#hovercycle

[irradiated-imp]

Vehicles

Sky Speeder One of the most common vehicles of the modern day. They are renowned for their speed, but also for their modifiability. No two Sky Speeders are exactly the same, with individuals often modifying their speeders for whatever they feel would be useful. There's a popular sport played on Sky Speeders, using a bamboo disk to score goals.

Sky Scooter Though not very fast, Sky Scooters are famous for their precise and versatile maneuverability. Though they aren't often used for transport in cities, many Archivists and Scholars in the Onu-Ifo Grand Archives and Ko-Ifo Knowledge Towers use them for transportation in their expansive working areas.

Air Board Speedy and impressive to watch, Air Boards are commonly used by Matoran and Agori seeking thrills. The rider is secured to the board through powerful magnets in its top plating. Like the Sky Speeder, they are very modular.

Boxxor A vast improvement of the original mechs designed by Nuparu to fight the Bohrok during their invasion of Mata Nui. Newer models have enhanced strength and speed, compared to the old models, as well as more dexterity in their graspers. They are mostly used by city guards, typically in one of the Ifos. Unfortunately Boxxor are often to expensive to buy and maintain for smaller towns and villages.

Modified versions of the Boxxor exist, equipped with different unique weapons or tools. Those found in Le-Oko have jump packs, Ga-Oko has air tanks and rebreathers, Onu-Oko have lights and modified graspers, Ta-Oko are often heat resistant and have rebreathers for use where necessary, Po-Oko have added armor plating, and Ko-Oko Boxxor have added insulation for warmth.

Additionally, Boxxor modified for non combat roles, such as construction, mining, or unloading goods, have been seen.

Hover Bike Similar to the Sky Speeder but intended for beings the size of Toa or Glatorian. They aren't seen very often.

[marlynnofmany]

Fun and Dangers with Hovercycles

When the spaceship is grounded for a mechanical checkup that most of the crew helps with, but your knowledge of alien tech is limited to “That button means go, right?” then there’s not much to do. I’d been stuck with cleaning duty on other similar overhauls, which was fair enough. But it sucked. So I was delighted today to find that Mur was giving the hovercycle a once-over in the cargo bay, and didn’t mind letting me help.

“Is it hard to ride?” I asked while he shone a flashlight into the fuel tank, standing on the tips of his tentacles to get a good look. “I’ve never actually gotten to.”

“I wouldn’t say so,” he replied. “The balancing function is top-notch, and the brakes are reliable.”

Paint sorted through the toolbox, organizing wrenches and whatever. “It’s a little high off the ground for my taste.” She craned her lizardy neck to look up at me. “But that may not bother you.”

“Probably not,” I said with a smile. “Can I try it? There’s never been a good chance before. It’s always in storage unless we need it for some rush delivery on the far side of a space station.”

Mur sighed and clicked off the light. “Yeah, and that’s usually my job these days. Mimi is a great rider, but he’s usually busy, and Coals is respectable but doesn’t like to…”

“I don’t like to either!” Paint exclaimed, holding a scaly hand to her chest. “He always has a better excuse!”

“Why don’t you like to?” I asked.

“Too fast, dangerous.” Paint shook her head. “I don’t like the pressure of urgent deliveries when a minor distraction could leave me and the package smeared across the scenery.”

“Okay, fair,” I said.

“It’s not that dangerous,” Mur said. “It won’t tip over, and the brakes have an impact sensor.”

“It feels that dangerous!” Paint insisted, lashing her tail and looking away.

I said, “I guess you can’t really drive slower without being late, huh?”

“Oh, some deliveries have plenty of time. But it’s still too high off the ground.”

“Can I try?” I asked again. “It really doesn’t sound that scary to me.”

“Sure, why not.” Mur tightened the fuel cap and consulted the checklist. “We’re almost done here.”

The rest of the checklist was quick. I helped by holding things and occasionally reaching with my long human arms, while Paint was in charge of the toolbox and unscrewing things with her claws.

“Annnd done!” Mur said as he finished the checklist with a flourish. “Let’s take it outside where you won’t crash into a wall.”

“I thought you said there were impact sensors for that,” I reminded him as he clambered into the seat.

“Eh, they’re not perfect.”

Paint hit the controls for the bay door, toolbox already set aside, and I followed as the hovercycle whirred quietly out onto the alien landing pad.

I reflected that this really was an ideal place to practice riding. Only a couple other ships were parked at the moment, some distance away, and the settlement was set far enough back that people wouldn’t be bothered by the noise and whatnot of landing spaceships. Everything else around us was dry, rolling ground, with hills in the distance and not so much as a cactus to dodge around.

“You twist this to go forward,” Mur said. “Turn it the other way for backward, or just a little to slow down. It’s pretty intuitive once you’re moving.”

“Just don’t twist it too far!” Paint said. “It can go really fast!”

“Right, I’ll be careful,” I said. “Do I steer by leaning or turning the handlebars?”

Mur gave me a few more pointers on the basics, with Paint adding cautionary tips, and soon enough they let me get on. It wasn’t really human-shaped like an Earth bike, but it was close.

“Okay, so I’ll just aim to go over that way, then circle back,” I said. “This way for forward, this way for backward?”

“Right,” Mur said, tentacle-walking up onto the ramp.

“Start gently!” Paint said as she scampered up beside him.

“Got it.” The motor was already on and burbling away, so I held on tight and gave the throttle a minuscule twist. The bike scooted forward.

With Mur and Paint offering encouragement behind me, I eased it out across the smooth ground with no trouble, giving a couple experimental leans to get a feel for the auto-balancing mechanism. It really was good. Then I sped up a little, and was honestly impressed with the stabilizing gyros or whatever. Even on sharp turns, I didn’t feel like I was in danger of being thrown off or skidding out of control, which was pretty great. I still had a traumatizing memory of bike-riding as a kid and running over a tin can that slid out from under me. But there would be no scraped-up arms today! This hoverbike knew what it was doing. I gave it some proper speed.

I zoomed over a couple low hills, laughing at the change in pitch while the hover engines adjusted to catching air. I spun in tight circles and a gradual curve, leaving a faint trail of dust behind me where the wind of my passing had kicked it up.

Then I got a look back at my coworkers on the ship’s ramp, and they were waving their hands urgently. I straightened out and looked around in alarm; was some local beastie or natural disaster right behind me?

Nope. Not unless it was invisible. Which I wasn’t ruling out.

I powered back toward the ship, worried now, and braked to a stop that felt pretty darn perfect for my first time out.

“ARE YOU OKAY?” Paint yelled, rushing over.

“Yeah, why?” I looked behind myself again.

“Wait, you weren’t out of control?” Mur demanded. “You were going that fast on purpose?”

“Uh, yeah? Should I not have?” I took in their worried faces. “It felt pretty safe. You’re right about the balance; that’s great.”

“WHAT?” Paint exclaimed while Mur laughed. “Why would you go that fast on purpose?”

“It’s fun?” I asked, shrugging. “I really didn’t think it was that big a deal. Do neither of you like going fast ever? I mean I can understand not wanting to worry about getting an urgent delivery there on time, but what about casual joyriding?”

The way Paint was sputtering for an answer and Mur wasn’t even trying to come up with one told me I’d stumbled into another unexpected bit of culture clash.

Paint finally settled on, “No, that is terrifying!”

Mur straightened up from where he’d collapsed into a puddle of tentacles and helpless laughter. “I’ve been doing all the time-crunch bike deliveries because I can hold on best! You’re doing the next one.”

“Okay,” I said, smiling a bit myself. “You know I thought you were trying to tell me there was something chasing me, right?”

Paint covered her eyes. “I can’t believe you flew over that big hill deliberately.”

“Oh, that was great!” I said. “I want to do that again. Can I?”

Paint spun to walk back up the ramp. “Have fun! I’ll tell whoever’s in the cockpit not to call for bandages unless you ask.”

Mur told her, “You should probably tell the captain about the roster change too.”

“On it!”

“Thanks,” I said. When Mur waved me forward, I zoomed back out into the desert for more joyriding. It really was fun. I made sure not to do anything reckless like standing up during a jump, as much as I wanted to. The crew in the cockpit was probably worried enough already.

I looked forward to the next urgent delivery, though.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

[pyxisastronautica]

W: ...I decided I would have a western style saddle and bridle, of course. Engraved brown leather with some green accents or decorations, and a green blanket with geometric patterns.

If anyone cares.

[tricksterly-conduct]

I'm trying to upload art again cause i have still been drawing, but i just don't do anything with it other than share with my friends. So i'm going to be uploading my Miraculous Ladybug au/redesign thing that i did a while back.

I didn't really intend to share this on my blog, but i feel like I might as well put these somewhere.

Putting this under a cut cause i'm about to yap

So i started with Ladybug and Chat Noir. I wasn't sure what I wanted to do with them at this point. At first they were going to be sonas, and then things got out of hand.

So this is sort of a space race au. Like, a mix of Ōban Star-Racers and Motorcity.

So every episode is basically Ladybug and Chat Noir racing for the miraculous to collect them. They have to travel through space and such to get to the next race. (btw this isn't Marinette and Adrien)

Ladybug is more akin to Batman in this. They don't talk often and when they do, it's usually to Chat Noir or the main villain. They use their Lucky Charm similar to those arcade games where you could use nitrous for a burst of speed or something else. Their earrings are also at the end of their antennae. Because i wanted more of a buggy look for them. They also have long nails to represent the tarsal claws that Ladybugs have.

Chat Noir doesn't have a vehicle. They just ride on the back of Ladybug's hovercycle and launch attacks while Ladybug drives. They're the chatty spider-man/catwoman figure. I wanted their Cataclysm to be more neon green like their eyes or the jewel on their chest. They can also shoot their cataclysm like a blue shell from Mario Kart.

Their reasons for teaming up is that they both want to keep the miraculous from falling into Hawkmoth's hands. However, there's of course backstory to it all.

[deaddove]

For the fic ask game: Silk Coffin: ↻ Esen's pov for the scene in which Esen and Ouyang ride on the same hovercycle and/or ♬ !

esen pov below 👇

ouyang is always furthest away when they are close like this, bodies molded together as they cut through the chilly night air, breathing in sync—and not breathing, when esen takes them up a little higher than a hovercycle really should go, zipping right over the low roof of the groundskeeping building. the soldiers on watchtower duty will recognize the kingfisher streak of him speeding towards the track and look the other way. together they lean hard into a last second swerve around a flagpole, and esen imagines he can feel the shape of ouyang’s smile against the back of his neck, like ouyang isn’t vigilantly guarding against unnecessary contact in that ridiculous, obstinate way of his.

his embrace is inexplicably devoid of the warmth that esen associates with holding another person, seeming instead to sap esen’s body heat while offering nothing in return. are all yin pilots like that? it’s been so long since esen’s held a woman he wasn’t actively fucking that he can’t remember. the arms around him are somehow business-like—though, for once, this isn’t business—and the fingers on the belt over his jacket make the muscles in his abdomen jump involuntarily. he is reminded of the startling sensation of icy hands against his bare stomach. the hands are tiny, belonging to a little boy who is helping him dress, who is withdrawing his too small, too cold hands and apologizing, sheepish.

behind him ouyang surprises him with a request: “do that again,” said into the shell of his ear, so esen takes them higher once more, and ouyang’s hands fist in the fabric of his vest. the winds bites, esen’s nostrils burn with it, but he thinks he could go all night like this, with only the echo of ouyang’s raspy laugh warming him.

ouyang stumbles into the shower and blasts himself with a torrent of cold water, desperate to wake, to wash esen out of him. the former he accomplishes, but the latter is futile.

once he’s returned fully to himself, he slumps against the wall, unbothered by the continuous spray pelting him. even filtered through the lens esen’s charitable affection, the memory of the sound of his own laughter is grating. he hates it as much as he wants to hate esen for drawing it out of him.

[spacetimesally]

Sally goes undercover and infiltrates a hovercycle gang in Neon Dome City, but a familiar face from flight school threatens to blow her cover in, "Racing for Pinks"

[nitewrighter]

can i request more sombra fanteractions? i looove the way you write her

Sombra: *hysterical laughing* You thought she was straight!?

Baptiste: I told you! I didn't want to assume!

Sombra: *sustained cackling laughter* With Cole!?

Baptiste: Look, they're both really into hovercycles, I didn't want to rule out a T4T thing or--

Sombra: *continued crazed laughter*

Baptiste: ...are you done?

Sombra: *gasping for breath, voice cracking, clearly on the verge of tears* I'm good... I-I'm goo-- AHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAAAHAHAHA!!!

----

Sombra: You know if you're not careful, Baptiste might just go riding off into the sunset with a certain cowboy.

LifeWeaver: Hm. An interesting development. Do you know if this hypothetical horse can seat three?

Sombra: *clearly caught off-guard by this* Eh--Ask him that, not me!

----

Sombra: You know, you can just tell me if you're just messing with everyone with all that 'ant on the ceiling' or 'fairyland' talk. I can keep up the bit.

Sigma: Ah, but can the mind truly be measured purely by observing behavior and biochemistry? When memories distort themselves like photos of photos, when dreams spin new emotions into existence? How can I measure the power the others have on me by their assumptions of me?

Sombra: Okay, okay. Schrodinger's cat situation, I can respect that.

----

Sombra: So... what are you and Max up to, now?

Doomfist: *chuckle* I love how you ask things like that like you don't already know.

Sombra: Let me rephrase that: What do you think Max is up to, and maybe I can tell you what he's really up to.

Doomfist: Or maybe you want to figure out what I'm really up to so you can go tell Max?

Sombra: Eh. Depends on which of you pays better.

----

Sigma: You are a good friend, Miss Colomar.

Sombra: *suddenly deadly serious* Where did you hear that name?

Sigma: *blankly* What name?

Sombra: hmmm..

[overheard-at-star-command]

Buzz: You're receiving a ticket for having three people on a hovercycle. Torque: Craters. NOS-4-A2: *growls* XL: Wait, three? Buzz: Yep. XL: DARKMATTER FELL OFF!

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

Perfect Paradise Ch.25: Yeung Hoi Tin Wai Ngo Jeui Nang Leung...

Summary: Allowing the sea and sky to give me strength...

-----------------------

The wooden sword hit Hugo on the left shoulder. Pain flaring from the point of contact. "Ow!" He swung his own practice sword in the direction of his opponent. Only to slice through air.

"Don't concentrate. Focus. Hearing your opponent's breathing should be as effortless as, well, breathing," Leonardo instructed.

Hugo struck towards the sound of his voice. Swords clashing, then he was gone. Swinging wide in an attempt to hit Leo while he retreated. Only to get struck on his forearm for his efforts. He pulled back with a hiss of pain, raising his guard again.

"Don't overextend yourself. It leaves you open to counterattack."

Hugo slashed at Leo's voice again but it was a feint. He heard the air swish against Leo's sword and turned at the last moment. Their weapons sliding against each other. Hugo felt where Leonardo stood from the pressure against his grip. He grinned, "Got y-"

His stomach lurched and a flat surface collided with his side. "... Owww!" Hugo complained from the floor.

"If you surprise your enemy don't hesitate. They certainly won't." Leo clapped his hands and the lights came back on.

Hugo removed his blindfold, taking Leo's offered hand. "This would be so much easier if we could train our senses to get super sonar. Like Daredevil!"

Leo grinned, counting the steps to the training rack where he left the practice sword, his white cane leaning against it. "That only works in comic books."

Hugo sighed. "Yeah."

"You've picked up the basics quickly though. I'm surprised you blocked that last strike." Leo turned to him. His eyes were clear but they could only see shapes and movement in bright light.

"Master Splinter says I'm a natural." Hugo only knew the sapient rat for two days but his opinion of Hugo was already important to him. Something about Master Splinter made Hugo feel safe.

"Don't let it go to your head," Leo teased. "Mikey's also a natural... Don't tell him I said that."

Hugo didn't quite get it but he had the feeling this was a warning to keep up his training. "Got it."

Raphael burst into the room. "Leo! We got trouble!"

Instantly Leonardo grabbed his cane and made sure his holographic projector was still on his wrist. "What's the situation?"

"A hovercraft full of LexCorp goons is heading for the Professor's Island. Mikey's already on the way. Get Donnie out of his lab at O'Neal Tech."

They rushed to the indoor docks where the on brand vehicles waited. Raph heading to the Shell Sub. "The Turtle Cab should take you through the tunnels the fastest."

"Let's hope Donnie fixed the guidance systems!" Leo practically flew towards the supped up taxi. The gate disguised as a wall already opening.

Hugo ran up to Raph as he boarded the sub. "What should I do?"

"Stay here!" And with that Raph closed the hatch. Submerging into the Central Park Reservoir.

Hugo stared at the bubbling water as the brothers took off. A gleam of metal caught his eye. It was a hovercycle stylized with the same green shells as Donatello's other toys. A sign hung over it's handles that read Hovershell Prototype Mark II Do Not Touch (That Means You Mikey).

A smirk crossed Hugo's face as he pulled out his Nigerian multitool.

(continued on AO3)

[no-1-rosalind-lang-apologist]

“while getting some peace and quiet in the farthest place he could go on his hovercycle”

😃🔫

[altairtalisman]

Random Info On Zeki

- His MBTI is ISTJ-A

- He's left-handed

- He doesn't require sleep, but sleeps for six hours as he wants to rest

- He only gets angry when protecting people he cares for as well as when strangers talk about how much good Ilias did for Ratein without acknowledging the lives lost during the fall of the Mekalza Empire

- He doesn't have a favourite season

- His parents died during the fall of the Mekalza Empire

- His name is to showcase the Turkish inspiration

- His signature song is Hell On Your Doorstep from The Count Of Monte Carlo

- He's always 45 minutes early

- Beings assume that he gets into fights often due to his scars, which is false as he gained his scars from accidents while repairing hovercycles as a teenager and during the fall of the Mekalza Empire

- He used to smoke in his teens and early adulthood, but stopped after his late wife told him that she hated anyone who smokes. He hasn't smoked since then

- He's actually married to Thomas and has the ring to prove it, but doesn't wear it as it gets in the way at work and during competition

- In a Real World AU, he's from Türkiye

- In a Real World AU, he's 39 and owns a successful automobile repair shop

[marlynnofmany]

Handy Tools

For some people, an afternoon spent blasting across a desert on a hoverbike with the passenger behind them wrapping tentacles around their waist would be a charming date. For me, it was a work day, and our delivery was about to be late.

I yelled over the wind, “Am I going too fast for you?”

Mur’s voice was muffled against my shirt. “I’m just glad I don’t have to steer at these speeds. Keep going.”

I went faster. Now that I’d been officially trained on the hoverbike, I was going to enjoy every opportunity to use it. Especially since it turned out that most of my coworkers didn’t actually like seeing the scenery flash past at breakneck speeds, with the wind in their hair (or lack thereof).

Their loss. I caught some air going over a low sand dune, and allowed myself a whoop of joy. Mur didn’t hold on any tighter, but that was because he had all his other tentacles suctioned onto the bike. Nobody stays in their seat like a Strongarm who’s properly motivated. He reminded me of cats I’d known who spent trips to the vet with their claws sunk into whichever soft surface was in reach. All that was missing was the yowling.

A gust of wind buffeted us sideways, but the bike’s auto-balance function kept it upright. With a thought for how much I would have liked that kind of technology in my childhood bicycle, I steered us back on track toward the distant buildings on the edge of the desert. The plan had been for our client to come meet us at the spaceport, but something had come up on their end, and they still needed the package in a hurry. Luckily for all involved, it fit in the storage compartment of our courier ship’s speedy little hovercycle. And I was happy to deliver it at high speed to a building that the ship couldn’t land near.

Eventually we’d be weaving through city streets and I’ve have to slow down. All the more reason to make up time with the high speeds now.

But of course it couldn’t be that easy. As I crested another rise, a herd of small things on the ground swarmed toward us out of nowhere.

I swerved hard, but no luck; there were far too many to avoid. With the wind behind them, they flowed under the hoverbike and onto its lower parts, where a bunch of the round little whatevers stuck fast.

The bike coasted to a stop, despite my efforts to urge it faster. The rest of the things ghosted merrily away, looking more like inanimate objects blown by the wind than like living creatures. Dozens of them were stuck to the bike.

Mur swore loudly in his own language, a series of rippling pops that sounded like someone going to town on a bunch of birthday balloons. Which seemed pretty appropriate, actually.

“What are these?” I asked, turning off the engine. They looked like little sand-beige balloons with leaves at the bottom. Were they plants?

They were.

“A muddy problem is what they are,” Mur said, loosening his tentacles and opening the storage compartment. “Seed pods famous around here for gumming up electronics by getting stuck where they shouldn’t. You can’t just pull ‘em off; you have to pop them.”

I got to my feet, careful to keep my legs away from the things. “Are they dangerous to touch?”

Mur climbed halfway into the storage compartment, digging with his tentacles around the package. “No. Just hard to puncture. Where is the toolkit?”

I had a sudden memory of our ship’s mechanic saying something about borrowing it while I was talking to the captain about the delivery. Uh oh. “I think we left before Mimi put it back.”

With an angry tentacle slap against the bike, Mur dug faster. “There’s got to be something pointy in here. Maybe in the medkit?”

While he pulled that out and sifted through the bandages, I got a closer look at the seed pods. They reminded me of pufferfish: a little spiky, and rubbery when I poked one. Oddly enough, it didn’t stick to my finger, just the bike. Seeds rattled inside.

Further pop-swearing told me there wasn’t anything particularly sharp in the tiny medkit. Mur shut it with a snap and looked around at the desert. “See any sticks?”

I did not. “There’s probably something at the town, but that’s a bit of a walk. Are you sure we can’t just rip them open? Are they toxic to bite?”

“Definitely don’t bite them,” Mur said. “I’ve heard stories of what those seeds can do to a digestive system.”

“By hand, though?” I tried to pinch one, but it was like trying to tear open an over-inflated kickball. Thin material, just without enough give to dig my fingers in. A pushpin would have done it. I kept trying anyway. “I see what you mean.”

Mur started tugging at various parts of the hoverbike. “And of course we can’t take off a sharp metal bit without tools either. And neither of us have claws. What around here is pointy?”

“Well, I almost have claws,” I said, looking at my fingernails. “Maybe I could bite one into a point. Or actually—” The nail on my middle finger was the longest. I dug a thumbnail into the corner and ripped the end off, then handed the tiny crescent to Mur. “Is this sharp enough?”

“What’s this?” He took it in his tentacle, surprised.

“Fingernail,” I said, waggling my fingers. “Mine are soft enough to tear off pretty easily. It’ll grow back.”

Mur blinked in surprise but didn’t comment. He just grasped it firmly with his most dexterous tentacle, and popped a seedpod with it.

“Hooray!” I said as seeds rained down and the pod deflated. To my surprise, it promptly detached from the bike as well.

“We might just be on time after all.” Mur started popping with a vengeance, swarming over the bike to get everything within reach.

I sacrificed another fingernail — ring finger this time — and joined in. Between my long arms and his maneuverability, we soon had all of the troublesome things collapsing onto the sandy ground.

I wondered briefly about the biology at work; maybe the outer surface of the pods would decompose into nutrients for the seeds. But then Mur was climbing back onto the seat, and we had other things to worry about.

“I’m going to make sure that toolkit goes back where it belongs the moment we get back,” Mur said. He opened the storage compartment and dropped the fingernail inside. “Keeping these, though. Gimme the other one.”

I handed it over with a smile and got back into place while he shut the compartment. The bike started as if there had never been anything wrong. I was a bit curious about that too, but figured it was something for Mimi to figure out when he gave the bike a checkup later.

After we delivered our package, that is. I kicked it into high gear, and with Mur holding on for dear life, I blasted off across the desert once again. The wind in my hair felt great.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[void-botanist]

Trick r treat :)

A treat for you, anon! I haven't really talked about Spinder's sisters (the non-adoptive ones) so here's a speed round of them:

Sierra: 65, taught Spinder to sew, has a shifter husband and adopted kids, dour, "they can have a little bullshit. as a treat"

Teagan: 63, Cady and Martin's mom, widow, mischievous, "I HAD to change my last name. now my initials are TIT"

Nieram: 62, Spinder's adoptive mom, has five other kids, gentle, "how about the two of you stop looking at each other. then we won't have any problems"

Iris: 58, fueled Spinder's hovercycle interests (mostly via her wife), also has adopted shifter kids, goofball, "you just gotta hit 'em with the puppy dog eyes"

🎃come get a treat…or a trick!🎃

Nicea taglist: @kahvilahuhut @malloen8c @outpost51 @writernopal @athenswrites

[fwwerabtry]

They have fucking hovercycles? That's SICK

[albertbutyoucancallmebert]

Uh... Haha I think I lost Bert? I went to check on him this morning and he wasn't in the office I lent him... He seems to have taken down most of his lab equipment and his hovercycle isn't here, sooo... Guess he left! Without his phone! Don’t know where he went off to. There's your update. Don't forget to brush twice a day!

-👄

[uniasus]

fic rec! 6K Blindshipping, SF AU

Summary: Atem is a college dropout stuck in a dead-end job in the middle of nowhere. He’s long since given up on moving forward in his life, but he meets someone who gives him a push anyway.

Comments: I love the vibes of this. The place Atem works is a liminal space - full of dead tech and no people. But just as it services a dying world, it's also the launch of Atem's new life. And the tech - Yugi using magic to mod his hovercycle - is also this lovely mix of time and space. I really want Atem to join the Friendship Gang after this one-shot.