#no they don't know each-other other identities

[troglobite]

possibly annoying addition, apologies, but for anyone curious (not a judgment on op or posting the photos, bc point successfully made--adding on bc there's a cool link to add, mainly, and bc i think it's helpful to explain this sort of thing):

photos 2 and 3 are real. 2 i know for a fact, as it was done by this woman (which dope to know in case you want to commission her, or want to look into this skill yourself as a cheaper way to get the stained glass effect)

https://uk.pinterest.com/pin/329255422757544676/

3 turns up a few photos of the same exact window with the same details but from different angles, and with different items in the shelf. unclear on the source, but seems to be a real window--i think. https://www.instagram.com/artndetails/p/C5D8On7Lo-p/?img_index=3 could be a very elaborate fake/edit.

photo 1 i'm on the fence about, as i can't find a source for it and it's just been reposted to hell and back--BUT the details and lighting look symmetrical, logical, consistent, and legit enough.

the last 3 are all fake/AI generated. the grand staircase one has extremely odd details that don't remain consistent or logical and seems to be a bad dupe of a legit stained glass window in a grand staircase, and the last two have dozens and dozens of similar photos that turn up with the same color scheme, themes, angles, and lighting, but all slightly different--as though they've come from the same round of prompts put into an image generator.

as a note for telling which were real before i did reverse image searches to double check:

the molding on the floors and walls of the second photo were consistent and identical everywhere in the photo. the carpeting had texture and inconsistencies and shows real wear and tear on the steps, where ppl most often walk. the light shining through the windows onto the wall matches the windows as seen pretty much exactly. the bees plastered onto the walls are *all identical* as they're the same decal over and over again. someone pointed out the railing as an inconsistency--but they simply don't see how the poles connect to the steps. each one is offset slightly (so likely 2 per most steps), and the number of poles isn't meant to match the number of steps. the patterns on the poles themselves, and of the poles, is consistent and identical throughout. there's also the implication of railing on the lower level behind the railing that's visible.

the first photo seems most likely real to me because of its symmetrical nature, the real believable texture of the glass and lighting, and the logical consistency of what's seen through the glass--it looks like there's a front porch, a street, and someone's lawn across the way. this is also very similar to real stained glass that i've seen done, and it makes sense that it would be exactly identical on both sides, though with variations in color, even though it's in reverse--you work off of patterns for this stuff, so mirroring a pattern and reproducing it for the other half would be easy.

photo 3 i'm significantly less sure about, but finding multiple photos of this window with details--that don't look fake--being identical between each photo, even though they're at different times of day and from different angles leads me to believe it may be real. the view through the glass is difficult, but it looks like seriously frosted/texture glass looking out onto a courtyard. one of the photos has the top tulips look more orange, but unclear if that's just because of the lighting. as is, the only tells that it MIGHT be real without reverse image searching is the clear logical consistency of the lighting--the crystal lamp has refracted light mostly correctly, and the colors and shapes of the light through the window is also correct. the window pulls, knobs, and shelves are all the same from photo to photo, and everything seems to respond to the light in roughly the same way.

tells it may be fake: it's just a weird fucking design. lol the dog is miss a paw, it's much smaller, there's a really badly shaped white flower in the bottom right corner, there's no source, and it's a very plain white room that looks out on??? a courtyard maybe? it feels disjointed and weird. hard to tell on this one, and even harder because it's been reposted a lot, including the photos from other angles, so a source is hard to find.

i've already said, briefly, what's wrong with photo 4. the stair railing (the iron is in incomprehensible shapes that don't repeat), the molding and details on the wall (they should match, and they don't--e.g., there's an embellishment high up on the right side that appears nowhere else on any wall), the "tree" that's either visible through the window or part of the window's design, and the fuzzy lack of clarity of objects in any of the designs (stair railing, crest of the window, elements on the walls) are giveaways that it's fake.

photo 5--all the things i noted about the real photos is true in the reverse here. the light through the window makes no sense. it doesn't match what's in the window, and there's no tinted color coming through. the way the light hits the walls, period, makes no logistical sense--there's no clear source of light that would account for ALL the light as seen. what's seen through the window--which isn't frosted and should therefore be clear--is fuzzy and inconsistent and doesn't clearly show us what's outside, unlike the first photo. it might be a generic landscape that's sort of patchy. the wall textures are bizarre and not to scale and don't appear to be any logical wall material. the pink looks like plaster, but the wall underneath the sill looks like cork that's been significantly zoomed in on. additionally, the flowers do not look the same and do not look like one species of flower. the top flower also has an incorrect petal, and the top leaves blend into a weird swoosh shape.

photo 6 is harder and more subtle. the giveaways/suspicions here are partly bc i've seen several AI photos like this before. but mainly, the tells are an unclear source of light: there are multiple points of different brightness--the lights under the hood make no sense. are they yellow, as seen on the backsplash/wall, or are they white, as seen through the glass itself? and unclear consistency on the texture and opacity of the glass itself. additionally, there are knobs missing on the visible drawers and cabinets. the view out the window doesn't appear logical or real, and doesn't appear to match the level of light in the room. the tile pattern on the backsplash--while believable at first glance--is also asymmetrical in a pretty significant way. the rows of color on the right and left aren't the same width, and the shape at the top point isn't a clear shape or symbol. it should be a flower or fleur de lis or something, but it's asymmetrical and has wayward pieces of tile in a way that seems clumsy, for something that looks like it should be precise. the items on the counter also don't make sense--they don't really hold up to close inspection. the oven itself looks mostly fine, which makes sense since there are so many images to pull details from and they're pretty standard/similar across the board.

If I won the lottery I wouldn't tell anyone, but there would be signs.

[starmieknight]

Was thinking about Stan's habit of grabbing his chest when he's scared and then thought about what if he did end up having a heart attack or something after Ford came back. Like, he's been stressed for ages and now he's gotta worry about Ford potentially getting the kids into something dangerous like he did and where he's gonna go after the kids leave and what he's gonna do without the Shack.

Maybe it hits him in the middle of tour or something. Like, he's been feeling off all day and looks kinda ragged so maybe Soos is keeping close and sees him go down. At first, people think it's part of the tour or some typical Stan gag. And then he doesn't laugh or try to play it up for money. So the twins run down to the basement to get Ford.

He's kinda annoyed that his planning time's been interrupted by Stanley's antics, but the twins seem genuinely upset so he goes to check it out. And finds out Soos and Wendy called an ambulance and there really IS a problem. Then he kinda disconnects from the situation. Like, he's panicking internally but this isn't the first major medical situation he's been in. So he calmly gets the kids (Soos and Wendy included) into Stan's car and follows the ambulance to the hospital. He's the one wrangling the kids while they freak out and asking all the questions to the doctors and nurses about Stan's condition. He can't take time to worry about his brother because he's got a bunch of kids to reassure and they're all looking to him because he's the eldest person there. He's an old man with all the answers in the universe. If anyone can tell them Stan's gonna be okay, it's gonna be Mr. 12 PhDs.

Except... he doesn't.

He doesn't know anything about his brother's medical history past the age of seventeen. Dipper's the one to mention Stan's medication and Mabel knows his diet and Soos and Wendy know about his boxing hobby and work schedule. Ford has a hazy memory about Stan chewing his way out of a trunk once.

He starts thinking about how Stan's the only family he has left. Sure, the twins are there, but they don't really know each other. Shermie and his son are just over the state line in California, but they don't know who he is anymore. Stanley's been wearing his face for years and they never seemed to notice. His parents are dead. Fiddleford is 30 years in the wind.

Stanley's the only one who truly knows him. Knows about his deepest insecurities and childhood dreams. Who knows his favorite books and comic book heroes. About his first disastrous date and the kissing bot. About how badly things had gone for him and been at his doorstep only a couple of days after receiving a single postcard after 10 years of silence.

And Ford knows nothing of the man Stanley became. Stanley doesn't know how Ford has changed. How he's trying SO HARD to fix his mistakes.

And suddenly being so angry over some paltry little machine doesn't seem so important. Ford's the one who built a doomsday device.

He's still angry with Stanley taking his identity, but what does it matter if no one noticed? Sure, Stan got him a criminal record, but he made one of his own in the multiverse. Their family has always leaned to the gray side of the law.

And now they may never get the chance to know each other again. 40 years without each other and the pain of potentially losing Stanley cuts Stanford so deep he feels like he's the one dying.

So he sits in that cold hospital waiting room, four hysterical kids surrounding him, and wears a straight face while his world falls apart around him.

If you lose your parents, they call you an orphan.

If you lose your twin, they don't stop calling you a brother.

[bie-tch]

To be completely honest, I don't really think Kai will become a centipede monster. I knowww it's sad but my reason as to why is pretty agreeable I think.

Usually, whenever a character is transformed into a monster or just a non-human in general, it's always been about accepting and overcoming parts of yourself youd rather hide. When Zane was revealed to be a nindroid, he learned that the others would accept him as their brother no matter what, and soon enough, it became a strength for him. Literally, he gained his true potential shortly after. He no longer sees him being a nindroid separate to his identity. He went from Zane, a ninja, to Zane, the titanium ninja. He's still him, always will be, just shiny :)

When Jay was turned into a Venomari, it became a reflection of his insecurities, the parts of himself he tries to mask with flashy bravado and exaggerated stories, especially around Nya, who he had a massive crush on. It ended similarly to Zane, where Nya said he would accept him no matter what. Flaws and all. Knowing this, He was able to gain his true potential too. Realizing that being himself was far better than covering it up with glitter and foundation.

Then when Cole became a ghost, it was a tragedy. He no longer felt like himself, no longer saw himself as a person. Instead a living husk of his former glory. But, with the encouragement and unyielding support of his teammates, his family, he learned to accept this new body of his, as inhuman as it was. It symbolized trauma, and the strength it takes to see the good in every bad situation. It carries later into the show, where even though he's back to being a human, the scars are still there. They will never truly go away, but he learned to accept himself as himself, weird ghost scars and all.

Lloyd is the definition of grappling with identity. From being the son of Lord Garmadon, to becoming the legendary Green Ninja, then the ultimate Spinjitzu Master, then returning to simply being the Green Ninja, knowing hes half Oni half dragon, and ultimately just Lloyd? He carries many versions of himself, each with parts he struggles to accept. He’s the textbook case of change: from idolizing his father to fearing he’ll become him. It’s this internal conflict that makes it so hard for him to see himself as anything other than a ninja. While we see him begin to accept his identity later in the series, DR shows us that he still has some ways to go before he truly feels at home in his own skin.

Nya's transformation was also just.. unwanted, in my opinion. It was about doing everything you can to protect the ones you love, even if it hurts you. She's very similar to Kai in this regard, and it's very realistic that they share similar ideals when it comes to how they view their role in the team. Nya thought that merging with the sea was the only option, and faced with Jay unconscious after drowning, she had no choice. It was unwanted change, similar to Cole. This time, however, instead of Nya bringing herself back, it was the others who brought her back. It's a beautiful way to show that family will go through hell and beyond if it means protecting the ones you love.

What does this all mean, however? Why do these transformations matter?

Well, here's an answer. Despite everything, despite the hardships, they all came out of it better. They came out of it having learned something positive about themselves, even though it scarred them tremendously. Think of it like a caterpillar. In order to transform into butterfly, they have to break down and rebuild. In the end, the transformations ended up becoming a reminder to stay strong and steadfast. And it's nice that everyone had a moment like that.

Weeelllll.... not everyone.

Kai is the only one who hasn’t undergone a non-human arc, and that’s surprising, considering he’s probably one of the first characters you'd expect to experience one. With his personality and tendency to hide things from others in fear of being shamed or shunned, an arc like that would benefit him. Right?

This is where monstrosity comes in I fear. And not in a good way.

I think this series will be contradicting what those arcs symbolized. I think it will become the opposite to what the other ninja experienced. I dont think Kai will turn into a centipede creature or just any monster in general. No, not really. And that might be confusing, because In order to survive the land of the monsters, you need to become one yourself, right?

But i still think Kai will be the only one not to undergo a non-human transformation. Not because it wont happen, but because he doesn't need to. In fact, I think it matches the others perfectly. Everyone in the team became a monster physically, but they stayed the same. Same likes, same hates, just with different colored skin or lack thereof. They didn't change, their views didn't change, their morals didn't change.

But Kais did.

And Kai is.

He is a monster.

Maybe not physically, maybe not literally,

But mentally. But his actions were.

And that's enough, isn't it?

[awionetka]

𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞! ➢

3, 2, 1, go! love and deepspace boys become street racers (while possibly romancing you in the process)...

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫: slight angst (?), drabble. street racer!Caleb x reader. they're estranged childhood friends with inconsistent communication, he's not abusive btw... bear with me on this one, there IS hope at the end of the tunnel!

𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫 / 𝐙𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞 / 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐥 / 𝐒𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬 / 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛

𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠…

➢ killing me; conan gray

➢ closer to you; jungkook, major lazer

➢ sour candy; lady gaga, blackpink

"...in the streets of Linkon City. Our experts agree that it has become a rather serious problem. Who is going to protect us from such dangerous activities when we don't even know who to look for?"

The evening discussion panel you'd turned on mixed with the vinyl record you put on in your bedroom, creating the perfect background noise for you current endeavours. Humming absentmindedly at Tara's words, you flipped through the pile of clothes growing dangerously with each rejected outfit.

"Yes. Well... It is best to remember that we, as Linkon citizens, are being thoroughly protected by police forces. We shouldn't act rashly here, especially when it comes to such important matters as illegal racing, oftentimes held purely for monetary gain. Such environments could be dangerous to those who have no experience in the matter. However, when it comes to the identities, there are a couple of things to look out for. Most racers have unique aliases and codenames, ones we can be wary of in our day to day lives. Some of the most infamous ones are, for example, Onyx, Orion, Malamute..."

You returned to the living room once again, this time wearing a different top, twisted phone cord trailing behind you like a puppy with attachment issues.

"I just don't know, Tara, this doesn't look... Ehh, I don't know." You sighed, holding up two skirts in front of you while your friend tried her best to advise you over the phone. "What's that? Oh, just the TV. Hold on, let me switch it off. Yeah, so, like I've been saying..."

Suddenly you paused, turning away to face your front door.

"You're here!" You smiled brightly, already halfway there, but then stopped abruptly at Tara's words. "Oh... I hope it's not another noise complaint..."

Not expecting much, since it was, in fact, a late Thursday evening in a building full of the elderly and families with young children, you took a half-hearted glance through the peephole.

But what you saw, who you saw, on the other side of the door, made your blood run cold.

"It's... It's..." you attempted to give Tara an explanation, but then the person standing in the corridor spoke up, voice muffled by the barrier between you.

"Hey, Pipsqueak..." He cleared his throat and you pressed your forehead to the door. "I... I came to talk. Yeah? I'm sorry about last time, it was never my intent to upset you."

"Well, too bad," you replied before you could stop yourself, already full of annoyance. "Because you did, Caleb. What do you want now?"

You didn't look through the eyehole again, you couldn't make yourself to do so. But you saw him in your mind, shoulders relaxing slowly at the sound of your voice, that you decided to respond to him, even like this, even angry.

"Just to talk. I couldn't call or text you for some time. I just want to... see how you're doing."

Still on the phone with Tara, you placed it carefully on the shelf next to you, not hanging up. Just in case.

"I'm doing fine," you quipped back, but your resolve had already begun to falter. You missed Caleb terribly, the tone of his voice, that roguish glint in his eyes. How he brought you cute keychains from his travels and let you crash at his place when you didn't want to be alone. How he held you in his arms when you cried, gentle and reassuring, yet still at some sort of distance. Even if shortly afterwards he didn't text you back for ten days.

"I'm– I'm glad, Pips." Pause, brief. Then, "Will you let me see you...? Just for a minute. Please."

You glanced over at your phone, laying screen up on the shelf. Tara had texted you, mindful not to make herself known by speaking up, and asked if you'd be okay. Biting your lip, you replied, promising to give her a call as soon as he leaves. You hoped that'd be soon. You hoped she'd come over soon too.

"Okay..." you muttered cautiously and then ended the call. "Just... give me a second."

Hurrying back to the living room, you grabbed one of the skirts that were thrown on the couch, hastily putting it on so Caleb wouldn't see you basically half-naked. He waited patiently until you opened the door for him and scooted to the side to let him pass.

"Hi," he muttered breathlessly, hands twitching at his sides as he took in your figure. "You... going anywhere? I hope I'm not an inconvenience."

There was a gentle smile on his lips, one you felt you hadn't seen for centuries. Aside from that, Caleb looked as Caleb-ish as ever; broad shoulders, bright, attentive eyes and messy hair, now slightly overgrown as you were always the one to cut it. His arm brushed yours when he entered your apartment and he tensed.

"No, it's fine." You closed the door behind him without locking it. Just in case... "So...? Are you going to tell me where the hell you were last time we were supposed to hang out?"

"Pipsqueak..."

A single laugh escaped your chest, more akin to a bark. "Don't 'Pipsqueak' me, Caleb. It's a simple question. I would like to hear a simple answer."

He leaned against the built-in closet, respecting your privacy and not moving from the spot by the entrance. As his head hit the wood with a dull thud, you noticed a wide stripe of gauze sneaking past the hem of his jacket, right at the base of his neck. If Caleb noticed you staring, he decided not to mention it.

"It's... not as simple as I'd like it to be." There was a certain amount of defiance in his voice, one you knew almost too well. "I can't– I couldn't contact you. The matter was out of my hands."

"Caleb, you stood me up!" you pointed out, refusing to meet his eyes, even when he slightly bent over in order to see you better. "Do you even know how long I waited for you back then? I've always known you were busy but this? And then you wouldn't answer my calls, wouldn't text me back? For a second I... I thought something had happened to you."

It seemed like your sudden confession made Caleb, in some wicked and unexplainable way, more upbeat than just mere seconds before. He reached out, but not even to touch you, just to hover. "I wish I could tell you more, so you wouldn't worry..."

"Worry?!" Now, that pissed you off. How would someone who clearly didn't give a damn about you make you worry for him? "You worry about yourself for once, Jesus fucking Christ. Where the hell were you, where you couldn't find two fucking minutes to send me a text?!"

"Pipsqueak–"

Waving him off, you stormed off into the living room, not wanting him to see how emotional it all made you. It took Caleb a moment to follow, quietly and cautiously, as though he was approaching a wild animal. The couch dipped slightly when he sat down at its edge.

"You used to be different," you whispered, more to yourself than to Caleb, really. "We used to be different. There wasn't a single thing we wouldn't talk about. You know there wasn't. And now... It feels like I don't even know you anymore, Caleb."

You looked up to face him, now wide eyed and tense as he stared back. A speck of dust flew in between you, illuminated by the cabinet lamp.

"I don't even know you."

There was a long moment of silence after that. Caleb appeared to be thinking about what to tell you and you, well, you were done talking. You couldn't keep wasting words on those who wouldn't give you any in return.

Suddenly he stood up, shoulders slumped forward, like a long forgotten puppet. Not even looking at you, let alone saying anything, he turned around yet again and made his way to the door.

You sighed. Deeply, unashamedly. With relief.

But then, just when you thought it would all end like this – with Caleb letting you have the last word. Leaving you behind, finally, for good.

He spoke.

Quietly, utterly devoid of emotion.

"I was in jail."

Your breath hitched. "I... I– W-What...?"

"They didn't have any usable evidence," he continued, still turned away, still at a distance (just in... case?). "So they let me go. I didn't want to call. You'd know. You'd know where it was coming from."

"Caleb..." You didn't even notice when you got up from the couch and walked close enough to feel the faint smell of gasoline lingering around him. "What have you done...?"

He glanced at you above his shoulder, smirking. "Don't worry 'bout it. Soon all of it will be gone. Everything will be just how it used to."

And before you could think of anything suitable enough for a reply, he left, closing the door behind him so delicately, you didn't even hear it click.

The air seemed hot that night, sticky. The fact that it was so horrendously crowded too, obviously didn't help and if it weren't for his height, Caleb wouldn't even have anything to breathe with.

He wanted to go home.

Real home, not the college dorms or even that cold, rigid apartment he was renting. You. He wanted, no, he needed to be where you were, see what you saw, hear what you heard. There wasn't a day he didn't spend cultivating the slightly blurred image of you he kept safely in his mind.

But what you told him just a few days before...

Caleb shook his head, as if to physically get rid of whatever resided inside of it at that time.

The past was just that – the past. For a reason, too. If he was to be present in your life still, he would have to earn his spot.

And he was willing to do anything for that to happen.

His racing team was almost finishing up, so Caleb decided to take a quick stroll through the garages. Being observant came naturally to him, so he oftentimes used those moments to spot his rivals' weakest points. That, plus the change of scenery helped him clear his mind, at least a little.

That night he would be up against five other drivers. Plenty of people to beat, but Caleb wasn't exactly a newbie, so he had calculated his chances as pretty high. High enough, he hoped at least. He was also competing with Sage and that was something he wasn't anticipating in the slightest.

Leaning against the garage doors, he observed, taking notice of anything out of the ordinary or potentially dangerous. Sage's Mitsubishi, a Toyoya, two Hondas. The last one was apparently a Mustang but Caleb was yet to see it with his own eyes, so he recoiled from making any rash assumptions. The crowd was vibrant and ever-present, adding to the unique flavour of Linkon's underground scene. There were also many teenagers, something Caleb had noted with confusion, as those who were underage had a way harder time getting in. And right next to a couple of school kids, stood a group of people not too much older, talking excitedly and trying to appear seasoned.

Caleb smiled to himself.

A part of him wished hypocritically that cops would swarm the place that night, making a whole show of cuffing people left and right, just to make those who didn't belong stay away afterwards. It was horrible of Caleb to think that way, considering he had to start somewhere too, but in all honesty he didn't wish his life on anybody. So, in a way it was justified, at least to some extent.

The start of the race was approaching and Caleb was almost about to go back to his trusted Subaru, when two more people with colorful drinks in their hands joined the group he previously observed.

The guy was relatively tall, a little lanky and wore a hoodie with a giant bird on the back, a raven maybe, or a crow. His eyes would shine whenever he looked at the girl beside him and it was clear as day that he was waiting for the right moment to make a move. She was chatting, gesturing animatedly and making him laugh in the process. He bent down to hear better, resting his hand on her hip.

And the girl... The girl was you.

[onewit-torulethem-all]

*cracks knuckles*

Our watchwords here are Inaccessible and Uninteresting. What we're gonna do is build a group of monasteries far away from each other. Let's say five monasteries. The kind of places on mountains, on islands, deep in forests. The Amulet of the Dark Lord is going to a random one of these monasteries. Like, make four identical Amulets, put each into a box, mix up the boxes, and send them with the rest of the materials. The boxes are filled with rolls of rough flimsy toilet paper. (Why rough toilet paper? Because it's too important to throw out or leave on the side of the road, but not desirable enough to get used. It will be kept in case toilet paper runs out, but we will supply each monastery build site with a lot of much nicer toilet paper.) The boxes are each guarded by elite guards disguised as plain clothes builders among the rest of the workers - with two subgroups within each group of builders who don't know about each other. That way, if the corrupting force goes for one or both groups, they will be busy fighting each other long enough for cooler heads to notice and swoop in and stop it.

Then, we have each of those five toilet paper boxes put in the basement, under floorboards, with a few barrels of dried boring foods on the floor where they're hidden. It should be food appropriate to the region, but unappealing, and ideally heavy to move.

Then we invite all the builders to celebrations in an unrelated area, and we cast mind-altering spells on them that eliminate any knowledge of the toilet paper boxes.

Next, we start the monks on their religious journey. But here's the thing: monasteries attract former criminals seeking redemption, third sons of nobles with no lands to inherit, people who just got out of pyramid schemes, those types. These people will easily be corrupted. So how do we prevent this? Obviously, we have to introduce something that makes this religion unpopular, something no one would want to do to achieve spiritual enlightenment. No drinking doesn't work, some people don't like alcohol. Celibacy doesn't work, asexuals exist and are valid. My suggestion: practitioners of this religion must not scratch any physical itch they have. Head itchy? Don't scratch. Got a mosquito bite? Don't fucking scratch it.

Obviously, this religion will not get popular. We're hoping it dies out in ten, maybe twenty years. We help it along by sending tax collectors to both check in on the place and take whatever money or valuables the monasteries have.

Now we have five crumbling monasteries in ancient, forgotten parts of the world with no earthly goods in them, dedicated to the world's most boring and unappealing religion, and with no one in existence who remembers that there's a supply of bland and unappealing food in the basement, and under that supply of bland and unappealing food is a box, and in that box is a bunch of flimsy scratchy toilet paper, and under that flimsy scratchy toilet paper is an Amulet that has a one-in-five chance of having a Dark Lord in it.

Game, set, match.

Ok, ok, hypothetical. You and your party have sealed the great evil demonlord in an amulet.

You are a canny adventurer, and have heard many a tale of artifacts like these that end in tragedy, either from some corruptive force emanating from them or some dickhead finding where the thing was hidden and breaking the demonlord free.

You're going to be smarter than those chumps. What do you do to safeguard the amulet and keep the evil sealed for good?

[countbarov]

medieval times were silly times

As I am equal parts stalker and writer, I have observed the KCD fandom for some time, and I've again found something that raised some questions for me. And this time it's not about homosexuality (alone), but the perception of medieval times in media today, in contrast with what we know about medieval times

A common name given to this period is "the dark ages" (and, as an ESL speaker, it's a phenomenon unique to English as far as I'm aware; feel free to correct me). But with a name as dramatic as that comes the connotation that "the dark ages" were rife with conflict, famine, death, disease, and violence of all kinds. But that's not what "the dark ages" means, and this evocative language is very misleading

They were called "the dark ages" because we didn't have enough information on them. Thus "dark", as in, lacking clarity

And importantly, they WERE called the dark ages. They are NOT called the dark ages anymore. Because we have more information on them

One of the things that gets brought a lot in relation to all characters, really, is religion. And since KCD2 is still very new, I won't make any specific reference to events in the game, but I will use KCD1 examples to illustrate my point

Religion in the Czech Republic has always been an interesting subject. They're nominally Catholic, but their history as a conquered nation and vassal state to bigger empires has marred the subject. It's considered today to be a very atheist nation, but this is a slight misunderstanding. Many Czechs are believers, but won't follow institutional Catholicism

Due to being ordered to die in battle for the Catholic church repeatedly (and causing a revolt about it, which was violently squandered by Catholic forces), it's easy to understand why the Czech public would be less than enthusiastic about Catholicism. But there was, in the 15th century, an interesting man by the name of Jan Hus. A priest who sought to reform the church to more accurately represent the Czech approach to religion; a priest who was executed by the Catholic church

A priest we meet in KCD1, interestingly enough, whom Henry accompanies on a debauched weekend of revelry, culminating in a drunken speech performed by Henry as he pretends to be a priest

Not very puritan and devout of him, alongside Hans' constant visits to the brothel

Another sore topic in the common understanding of medieval times is homosexuality, and how it's thought of by contemporaries

Modern conceptions of homosexuality will have us identify as "gay/lesbian"; as people who ARE homosexual and feel homosexual attraction. But back then, homosexuality wasn't understood as something you were: it was something you did

As such, "BEING" a sinful little gay wasn't a thing. You were performing a sinful act, but you were not sinful by nature, because it wasn't understood as an intrinsic part of your identity

This doesn't change the fact that it wasn't a good or happy time to be gay. For Hans and Henry it would've been a scary, uncertain, extremely secretive part of their lives. Their love could not be freely expressed and had to remain hidden from the public eye. But that doesn't mean they were ashamed of it

I think it's more beautiful to see their relationship as something they're proud of and happy to fight for rather than a sore topic of discussion. They would've been excited to share each other's company, share with their closest allies, and share in private without fear

It needs to be said, also, that I am not trying to police how people enjoy media. I'm simply expressing that Hans and Henry don't necessarily fit the mould of a tragic gay relationship as we know them today, and it's more interesting for me to engage with media where it's at. Part of the reason KCD's gay romance is so important to me as a gay man is that, instead of shameful and painful, it's euphoric, and gay media NEEDS more gay euphoria

We deserve to be happy, and I'm delighted that media starts to represent us not as doomed, but blooming. We deserve better than that

[jungkoode]

5 SECONDS TO FREEDOM | prologue

˗ˏˋ debts unpaid ˎˊ˗

"In Tokyo's underground, there are only two currencies that matter—respect and reputation. When someone threatens to take both, you don't just race them. You destroy them."

next | index

⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 3.5k

content: street racing culture, debt collection, first meetings, midnight races, dangerous driving, Spanish endearments as provocation, the dynamics of Tokyo's underground scene, and your first defeat in nineteen months.

✧ author's note ✧

Soooo here we fucking go.

I've been obsessing over this story for months—I think we all know that lmaooo I think I posted the teaser like a couple months ago and I was devastated because it barely got 50 notes. But you know what, this was still in my head so I did write some drabbles—and I kind of shaped the prologue, which is what you’re gonna read below hahaha.

“But Kiki we just sent you 45 asks telling you to rest” AND I SAID SIKE??? No actually, I’m okay I promise! Usually writing different stories is what prevents me from burning out, because I get frustrated with the same storyline so it’s like… I write something else and my brain goes ‘yay thanks’. You know, ADHD—shiny new toy, mind dances to the music.

Anyways, so. I love this. I love this because as always I get to experiment with different personalities and psychological backgrounds and what I fucking love about these two is the masks they wear and how opposite they are. He’s cocky and arrogant, but in a different way FMU!jungkook is. She’s determined and ambitious, always pushing for more, but still very distinct from all my other Y/N’s because she’s handling different situations (you’ll see in later chapters).

And Hachiroku and Jaque aren't just racing personas—they're escapes. And what makes this delicious is that they're running from opposite lives. One from privilege, one from struggle. Both finding freedom in the same five seconds at the starting line.

And yes, the cars matter. They're not just vehicles; they're extensions of identity. The AE86 is legendary for a reason—not the most powerful, but perfectly balanced in the hands of someone who knows exactly what they're doing (sound familiar?). Meanwhile, the R34 Skyline is raw, unapologetic power held in check by someone who understands precisely when to unleash it.

AS ALWAYS—READ THE AUTHOR INTRO AND TW listed in the index post. This is a must before reading this story.

Fair warning: this isn't going to be a clean race. These characters are messy. They make decisions that will make you want to scream at them. They'll crash into each other's lives and leave debris everywhere, and the kind of attraction that feels like a guardrail giving way on a mountain pass.

But that's the point, isn't it? The most interesting stories happen in the dangerous curves.

So buckle up. We've got a long road ahead.

Ready? Light’s about to turn green.

Also. Notes for this one are pretty high, that’s intentional. Like I just wanted to post the prologue to have it out for a bit but I still need to work on the arcs and major plot points. So I don’t have the story fully shaped out for now, which is why I want this to rest and check for engagement and reactions. Seriously—don’t crash out, I know this one will take time and that’s absolutely my intention!

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

wattpad

Respect isn't given in Tokyo's underground—it's paid in cash or blood.

You roll the cherry lollipop against your teeth, counting seconds in your head like engine timing.

Two weeks. Fourteen days. Three hundred and thirty-six hours since you left Kalo and his overpriced Supra in your rearview on the Hakone downhill, his taillights disappearing around the corner while you took the perfect line through the hairpin that everyone else brakes too hard for.

It's nighttime at Daikoku.

You cross one leg over the other, letting your heeled boot dangle casually off the edge of your AE86's hood. The mini skirt wasn't a random choice. Neither was showing up without your racing gear.

Because tonight isn't about driving—it's about collecting.

"Kalo's nowhere to be seen," Maya says, leaning against your car's hood, arms crossed. "Dipped hard."

You don't bother looking at her, just shift the lollipop to the other side of your mouth with your tongue. The neon from nearby signs reflects off the polished black and white paint of your 86.

"What?" Maya catches your expression. "I'm just saying. Word is he's been avoiding this spot since you embarrassed him."

"While still flashing cash at that club in Roppongi," you add, voice flat. "Buying drinks for anyone who'll listen to his bullshit version of what happened on the mountain."

You tug at one of the layered chains around your neck, watching the crowd that's gathered tonight.

The usual suspects are here—wannabes with more money than skill taking photos of each other's cars, veterans huddled around hoods talking suspension setups, scouts looking for the next race.

Everyone except the one person who should be here with your money.

"So what's the plan?" Maya nudges your shoulder. "Just gonna sit here looking pretty until he magically appears?"

You roll your eyes. "Since when do I just sit and wait for anything?"

"Fair point." She grins that wolfish grin of hers. "So?"

"So I track his ass down." You twist the lollipop stick between your fingers. "He owes me fifty thousand yen. But more than that, he owes me the respect of paying up and admitting I smoked him fair and square."

Maya snorts, exactly as you expected. "Called it. Knew you wouldn't let this slide."

"It's not about the money." You straighten up, adjusting your cropped leather jacket. "It's about the principle. You lose a race, you pay your debts. That's how this works. You don't just disappear like some amateur who can't handle defeat."

"Especially not when he talked all that shit beforehand," Maya adds, picking at her black nail polish. "What was it he said again? Something about how no girl could ever handle his—"

"'No girl could handle my power on the downhill,'" you quote dryly. "Right before I passed him on the outside of that corner everyone brakes for."

The memory brings a slight smile to your face.

The shock in his eyes when you appeared in his side mirror where no car should have been able to fit.

The desperate overcorrection that sent him nearly scraping the guardrail while you smoothly accelerated away.

"Exactly." Maya pushes off your hood. "So what's the first move? Hit his usual spots?"

You pull the lollipop from your mouth with a pop. "Already did. Club Seventh in Roppongi. The garage where his uncle works in Setagaya. That ramen shop he's always at in Shibuya."

"Stalker much?" Maya raises an eyebrow.

"Thorough," you correct her. "There's a difference."

A brief silence falls between you as you both watch a metallic blue GT-R roll into the lot, bass thumping hard enough to vibrate the pavement.

Not Kalo's crowd—these guys run with the Yokohama crew.

"Kenji might know," you say finally, referring to your mutual friend who somehow knows everyone's business in Tokyo's racing scene. "He mentioned Kalo's been hanging around some new spot in Meguro the past week."

Maya pulls out her phone. "Want me to text him now?"

"Already did." You tap your boot against the bumper of your car. "He's supposed to meet us here in—" you check the time on your wrist "—fifteen minutes ago."

"Typical." Maya rolls her eyes. "That guy couldn't be on time if his life depended on it."

You're about to respond when you spot a familiar face weaving through the crowd. Kenji, with his signature sunglasses despite it being well past midnight, making his way toward you.

You straighten up slightly, not wanting to appear too eager for information.

"Ladies," he greets with that irritating smirk of his, adjusting his sunglasses even though there's absolutely no need. "Looking dangerous tonight, Y/N. Someone's not here to race."

"Just tell me what you know about Kalo," you say, cutting through his bullshit.

Kenji leans against your car without asking—a liberty you allow only because he's useful.

"Direct as always. That's what I like about you."

"Kenji," you warn, patience already wearing thin.

"Fine, fine." He holds up his hands in surrender. "Your boy's been hanging at this new garage in Meguro. Place called Midnight Rush. Trying to get in with that crew that runs the Wangan on weekends."

You raise an eyebrow. "The twins' territory? That's desperate even for him."

"After what you did to his reputation?" Kenji shrugs. "Man's gotta find somewhere to start over."

Maya laughs. "Not how this works. You don't just reset when you lose."

"Exactly." You shift your weight, boot heels clicking against the pavement. "So he's there tonight?"

"Should be. They're prepping for some big run tomorrow. Word is there's serious money changing hands. He's trying to buy his way in."

The conversation halts as the distinctive growl of an approaching engine cuts through the night.

Not just any engine—something with a tune you've never heard before.

Sharp. Aggressive. Perfectly balanced.

Heads turn as a midnight purple Skyline R34 GT-R glides into the parking area, before coming to a stop under the harsh parking lot lights.

"Who the hell is that?" Maya straightens up, suddenly alert.

Kenji's expression shifts from boredom to interest in an instant—a rare change for him. "New player. Goes by Jaque."

You study the car, assessing rather than admiring.

Aftermarket body kit, but tasteful. Custom wheels. The stance is aggressive but functional.

Whoever built this wasn't just throwing money at it—they knew exactly what they were doing.

"Jaque?" you repeat, keeping your voice neutral despite your curiosity. "What kind of name is that?"

"Latino guy. Showed up about a month ago." Kenji lowers his voice, shifting into the gossip mode he lives for. "Been cleaning up. Undefeated so far."

Your eyebrow rises slightly at that.

Undefeated is a bold claim in this scene.

"Never heard of him," Maya says, voicing what you're thinking.

"That's because he's been running mostly on the Wangan line. Outrunning cops, taking stupid risks. The kind of shit that gets you noticed fast." Kenji's eyes remain fixed on the car. "Word is he beat Hayato's record on the C1 loop last week."

That gets your attention, though you're careful not to show it.

Hayato's record has stood for three years.

This guy has broken it in a month.

Who the fuck is this?

Your question is answered when the driver's door opens, and the crowd's murmur intensifies. A figure emerges, oozing the confidence of someone who knows they belong anywhere they choose to be.

Not tall, but with a presence that fills the space around him. Dark hair, sharp jawline, and a smirk that suggests he's already three steps ahead of everyone else.

"He drives like he's got nothing to lose," Kenji adds, a note of genuine respect in his voice that you rarely hear. "Like he doesn't care if he crashes or dies. It's... I don’t know man. Something else."

You watch as the driver—Jaque, apparently—leans back against his Skyline, surveying the crowd like he's taking inventory.

His gaze sweeps across the parking lot, until it lands on your group.

Or more specifically, on you.

He gives you a small nod, as if acknowledging territory.

"Looks like you've got an admirer," Maya mutters, nudging your ribs.

You shrug, unimpressed. "Looks like another ego with a nice car."

But you don't look away, and neither does he. It's a standoff of sorts, neither willing to be the first to break eye contact.

You've played this game before with countless racers who thought they were hot shit.

You've never been the first to look away.

"Don't dismiss him so quickly," Kenji warns, surprising you. "I've seen him drive. I’m dead serious, it’s not normal."

"Nobody's unbeatable," you say, finally breaking the staring contest to look back at Kenji.

Just because you had to look back at Kenji.

"Maybe." Kenji shifts uncomfortably. "But this guy... he doesn't race like a normal person. It's like he's got some kind of death wish, but with the skill to back it up."

You scoff, though something about Kenji's tone—the genuine concern beneath his usual bullshit—gives you pause.

"Death wish or not, a car's a car, and physics is physics. There are rules to this game that nobody breaks."

Maya's watching you with that knowing look she gets when she can tell someone's gotten under your skin, even just a little.

"You want to find out, don't you?"

"I want to find Kalo and get my money," you correct her, though your eyes drift back to the Skyline against your will. "That's why we're here."

You scoff at Maya's knowing smirk, about to tell her to shut it when fragments of conversation float over from where the newcomer stands. One word cuts through the ambient noise of engines and chatter.

Kalo.

Your head snaps toward the source.

The Skyline guy—Jaque—leans against his car, talking to a small circle of racers. His hands move expressively as he speaks, gold bracelet catching the neon light.

"Kenji." You cut him off mid-sentence. "Who exactly is this guy talking to?"

Kenji follows your gaze. "Nobody important. Some Yokohama kids trying to get noticed." He adjusts those stupid sunglasses. "Why?"

"He just mentioned Kalo."

Maya straightens beside you. "You sure?"

No mistaking it. Not when you've been hunting that name for two weeks.

"Excuse me," you say, already moving.

Maya sighs behind you. "Here she goes again."

You don't look back. Your boots click purposefully across the pavement, moving slowly. Not rushing—you never rush. But determined.

Three guys surrounding Jaque glance up as you approach, their expressions shifting from interest to wariness. They know who you are.

He doesn't turn immediately. Keeps talking, voice carrying a rhythm unlike anything you've heard in Tokyo. An accent that doesn't belong here.

Only when you're close enough to count the stitches on his leather jacket does he acknowledge your presence.

And even then, it's just a partial turn. Forty-five degrees. Neck cradling slightly to look at you sideways.

Performative, if anything. Like he knew you were coming before you did.

You cross your arms, weight shifting to one hip. His mouth twitches upward at the corner, eyes traveling from your face down to your boots and back up again.

Not subtle about it at all.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this sight?" Velvet slides from his lips.

One eyebrow quirks upward, the slightest movement. His Japanese is fluent but different—consonants softened, vowels stretched in places they shouldn't be.

You narrow your eyes. "You mentioned Kalo. What do you know about him? What's your relationship?"

He studies you for two full seconds. Not answering. Just looking. Like he's trying to read something written in small print.

Then he chuckles, using two fingers to move a thin strand of dark hair that's fallen across his view. The movement is unnecessary. Theatrical. Done for effect.

"Why so serious, princesa?"

It’s Spanish, the last word. You know that much, know from the way the word rolls off his tongue, deliberate, inserted where it doesn't belong. Like he’s testing boundaries, hoping for a reaction.

"I asked you a question." You keep your voice unimpressed.

"And I asked you one too."

He turns to face you fully now, leaning back against his car with the casualness of someone who's never been afraid of anything.

"But since you came all this way... Kalo. The Supra guy, right? The one who races like he learned driving from a video game?"

The description is so accurate you almost smile.

Almost.

"I hear he owes someone money," he continues, watching your reaction carefully. "Someone who smoked him on the mountain course two weeks back. Embarrassed him so badly he's been hiding like a scared rabbit."

His three companions take subtle steps backward, no longer interested in being part of this conversation.

Smart.

Maya appears beside you, silent backup. Though her presence changes nothing in his demeanor.

"And how would you know about that?" you ask.

He shrugs one shoulder.

"People talk. I listen." His accent thickens when he adds, "Es lo que hago." (It’s what I do)

"Is that right?" You don't react to the Spanish. "Interesting that someone who just showed up knows so much about other people's business."

"I'm observant."

His eyes lock with yours.

"For example, I observe that you're not here to race tonight. That outfit? Those heels?" He clicks his tongue. "You're here to collect. To make a point."

Something cold slides down your spine. Not fear—you don't do fear. Something else.

Being read so easily isn't a sensation you're familiar with.

"What's your name again?" You ask it like you've already forgotten, though you haven't.

"Jaque." He says it with a slight emphasis on the second syllable. "And you're Y/N. The 86 driver who hasn't lost a mountain race in what, two years?"

"Nineteen months," Maya corrects automatically.

You shoot her a look.

Jaque's smile widens. "Nineteen months. Impressive."

"If you're done wasting my time," you say, turning slightly, "I have a debt to collect."

"From a guy who isn't here."

He pushes off his car, closing the distance between you by half a step. Not enough to be threatening. Just enough to make his presence unavoidable.

"And won't be. Not tonight," he adds.

"And you know that how?"

"Because I passed him on the expressway heading in the opposite direction. About twenty minutes ago." He taps his wrist where a watch would be. "Running scared, looked like."

You clench your jaw. If he's telling the truth, you've wasted your night. Another dead end in your hunt for the coward who owes you.

"So you just happened to recognize a stranger's car?" Maya asks, skepticism heavy in her voice.

"A white Supra with that terrible aftermarket body kit and the Rising Sun decal on the hood?" He makes a dismissive gesture. "Hard to miss. Hard to forget, unfortunately."

That description matches Kalo's car exactly; and the sick feeling in your stomach tells you he's not lying, as much as you'd like him to be.

"Well," you say, voice cooling by several degrees, "thanks for the information."

You turn to leave, disgusted at having your time wasted. First by Kalo's absence, now by this newcomer who clearly just wanted to get your attention. Another night, another waste.

"I'll pay you double what he owes you."

The words stop you mid-step.

You turn back slowly, measuring every movement.

"Excuse me?"

Jaque's expression hasn't changed, but something in his eyes has.

They’re gleaning.

"Fifty thousand yen, right? I'll make it a hundred." He says casually, like offering to buy a coffee. "If you beat me."

Maya makes a small sound beside you, something between a scoff and a laugh.

"And why would I race someone I don't know for money I don't need?"

You almost laugh. As if this is about the money. You were born into more yen than he’s ever seen—this is about respect. About principle. About owning your loss when someone beats you clean. No excuses. No saving face. Just bow your head and pay what you owe.

But he’s not done.

"Because you're curious." He says it like it's obvious. "Because you've been the best for nineteen months and you're bored. Because you want to know if I'm as good as they say."

"As good as who says?" You roll your eyes. "I've never heard of you before tonight."

"Then I must be doing something right." His smile shifts, becomes syrupy. "But if money doesn't motivate you, how about this—I win, I get to run with your crew. Race in your territory."

You can't help it—you laugh. Short and dismissive.

"That's not how this works. You don't just buy your way in." Your eyes flick to his car. "No matter how pretty your GT-R is."

"I'm not buying," he corrects, that accent slipping into his Japanese again. "I'm earning. Difference."

You narrow your eyes.

Maya leans close to your ear. "You're not seriously considering this?"

You should walk away. This guy is nobody. A newcomer with a nice car and too much confidence. The racing scene sees them every month. They come, they crash, they disappear.

But.

Something about the way he stands there, utterly certain of himself, gets under your skin.

Like he already knows your answer before you do.

And maybe it's the wasted night. Maybe it's two weeks of hunting Kalo with nothing to show for it. Maybe it's just the need to put someone in their place.

"One race," you hear yourself say.

Maya's head whips toward you in surprise.

"One race," you continue, "and when I win, you pay double what Kalo owes me, and you don't bother me again."

"And when I win," he counters, not missing a beat, "I race with your crew. Simple."

"If," you correct.

"When." He doesn't back down.

One calculated step closer brings his scent into focus. Leather, naturally, but beneath it something that doesn't compute. A scent that belongs to ryokan inns and meditation halls, not this arrogant foreigner.

Hinoki.

"You're awfully confident for someone who knows nothing about me or how I drive."

"And you're awfully defensive for someone who's supposedly unbeatable." His voice drops lower, meant for your ears only. "What are you afraid of, princesa?"

The Spanish word again. A barb. Challenging.

"Afraid?" You match his tone. "I'm trying to save you the embarrassment. And the money."

He laughs, so genuine that it catches you off guard. "So it's settled then. You and me. Tonight."

From the corner of your eye, you see Kenji approaching, drawn by the developing scene. Others are watching too.

Word travels fast in this world.

"Fine." You extend your hand, a formality in this world of verbal contracts. "My terms. My course."

He takes your hand. His grip is firm but not aggressive. Just right. His palm warm against yours.

"Your course," he agrees. "But I pick when."

You raise an eyebrow. "When, then?"

His smile widens, showing teeth. "Now."

Death has a rhythm.

Tonight, it sounds like Daddy Yankee.

The mountain is yours—every curve, every shadow, every inch of guardrail. You've memorized each crack in the asphalt like the lines on your palm.

Yet as you sit at the starting line, engine purring, the midnight purple Skyline beside you blasts "Gasolina" loud enough to vibrate your windows.

He's not even looking at the road.

Jaque's got hand on the wheel, the other tapping the window frame in rhythm.

Kenji stands between the cars, arms raised.

You grip your steering wheel tighter.

Focus. Calculate. This is your mountain. Your rules.

"Ready!" Kenji shouts.

You check your gauges, settle into position, drop your breath rate. Your 86 is an extension of your body.

"Set!"

Jaque turns to you—actually turns his head away from the road—and winks.

Winks.

What the fuck is his problem?

Your jaw clenches so hard you hear teeth grinding.

"GO!"

You snap into the first gear immediately, launching forward as your tires bite into asphalt. Perfect traction. Perfect release. Your 86 shoots ahead exactly as calculated, exactly as it always does.

The Skyline stays even.

First corner approaches—tight right-hander with a nasty camber that catches amateurs by surprise. You brake at the perfect moment, downshift, feel the weight transfer as you clip the apex.

Textbook. Flawless. The corner you've taken hundreds of times.

The Skyline mirrors you exactly, staying in your blind spot. The bass from his music is still thumping through the night air.

Second corner. Third. Fourth. Each attack perfect, each line immaculate. And still, he's there. Not gaining, not falling behind. Just... present. Like a shadow you can't shake.

"What the hell is this guy playing at?" You mutter, taking the next hairpin with a controlled aggression that should give you an advantage.

Should.

Doesn't.

The Skyline follows, its midnight paint swallowing the moonlight instead of reflecting it. Through the next three corners, it continues—you lead, he follows, neither gaining ground.

Until the straightaway.

The road opens up, and you floor it. The 86 responds instantly, pushing you back into your seat. This is where your lighter weight should shine.

But the Skyline surges forward, twin-turbo engine unleashing a growl that slices the night.

He passes you.

Not aggressively. Not dangerously.

Just... efficiently.

Like it's the most natural thing in the world.

For the first time in nineteen months, you're staring at someone else's taillights.

"No fucking way."

You push harder, finding speed you rarely tap into. The gap closes slightly on the approach to the next corner—a sharp left with a cliff drop on the outside.

No guardrail. No room for error.

Normal people brake early here.

Jaque, as it turns out, is not normal people.

You don't brake until the last possible microsecond, throwing the 86 into the corner. The tires scream, traction at its absolute limit. You can feel them searching for grip, dancing on the edge of adhesion.

You exit the corner a car length behind him.

"Come on!" You slam the gearshift, pushing for more.

The next section is technical—five corners in quick succession. Your territory.

It's where precision matters more than power.

You close the gap. Corner by corner, inch by inch. Three more and you're on his bumper. Close enough to see his fingers still tapping against the frame slightly to the rhythm.

The next hairpin is your chance. The inside line is risky—there's barely enough room—but it's your mountain.

You know exactly how much space you need.

You dive for the gap.

For one beautiful moment, you're alongside him. Equal. Your front bumper inches past his door.

Then he does something impossible.

Instead of defending the line—instead of doing what any rational driver would do—Jaque throws his car into a drift so aggressive it sends the back end swinging wide, nearly touching the guardrail.

The move creates an arc that cuts you off, forces you to brake or crash.

You brake.

The maneuver costs him speed, should give you another chance to pass on exit.

But before you can capitalize, he's already accelerating out of the drift, the Skyline's all-wheel drive finding traction where none should exist.

"What the actual—"

The move was insane. Suicidal. The kind of thing that ends with twisted metal and sirens.

And he pulled it off like he was parallel parking.

For the final stretch—three corners and the last straightaway—you throw caution aside. Push beyond limits you usually respect. The 86 responds, giving everything it has.

It's not enough.

The Skyline crosses the finish line two car lengths ahead. You slam your palm against the steering wheel.

The taste of defeat is metallic in your mouth, foreign and despised.

You bring the 86 to a hard stop, tires protesting at the sudden deceleration.

The music still pounds from his car. That same goddamn song.

You throw open your door, adrenaline and anger propelling you forward. The cool mountain air hits your flushed face as you storm toward his car.

Because that last move? It wasn't just reckless—it was deadly. The kind of stunt that gets people killed on these mountains.

Words build in your throat. Sharp words. Words about respect for the mountain and death wishes and arrogance.

His door swings open as you approach. The music blasts louder without the barrier of glass and metal. He slides out with that same casual grace you saw when he called you princesa, when he winked before accelerating.

And something stops the words in your throat.

He shakes his head slightly, dark hair falling across his eyes before he pushes it back with one smooth motion. His other hand remains on the Skyline's roof, some golden ring catching the moonlight.

When he turns to face you, there's no triumph in his expression. No arrogance.

Just... satisfaction.

Like he's found something he's been looking for.

His eyes meet yours across the short distance. That smile appears again—not the cocky smirk from earlier, but something more genuine. Lips curved just slightly at the corners.

"Thanks for the adrenaline rush, mami," he says, voice carrying over the pounding beat of Daddy Yankee.

You've never hated Spanish music more in your life.

goal: 500 notes

taglist: @cannotalwaysbenight @taevescence @itstoastsworld @somehowukook @stutixmaru @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @annyeongbitch7 @mar-lo-pap @mikrokookiex @minniejim @curse-of-art @cristy-101 @mellyyyyyyx @rpwprpwprpwprw @jkrailme @graydolan12

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© jungkoode 2025 no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[ceoandslutler]

do you have any idea what that stare rodney gave o!c's cane and shoes was about? i'm totally stumped on it and can't find anybody speaking about it unless i'm blind and my tl is bare cos i'm not following the right people, and i thought maybe i was related to sizing up sebas' efforts as a servant but i don't know... it's just a very condescending look period like why the side eye... ungaggggg...

AHHH I THINK I KNOW WHY

i have been thinking about it a lot recently actually.

WHY DID RODNEY STARE AT CIEL IN CHAPTER 214?

the glaring is directed towards ciel's accessories, his shoes and his cane. not ciel himself.

every time these features specifically were focused on, it is to remind us ciel is a child. for example chapter 2, the old man calls ciel a child while delivering the cane.

his demeanour towards joker/doll completely changes once he's dressed. joker sardonically points out that ciel truly is a noble once ciel is dressed and acts like a noble and doll doesn't initially even believe o!ciel is lord phantomhive bc she's so used to his circus disguise.

elizabeth's big character moment in the campania points out o!ciel's attire as aiming to look older.

when he runs towards sebastian in the green witch arc, at the end of his run when he finally screams sebastian's name, he's adorned with...

his hat and heels (but no cane, he's running lol)

honestly? i think these panels are supposed to be showing us how these things make ciel who he is (his identity) for example art book 4 has these cool collages which represent sebastian and ciel.

o!ciel's includes his eyepatch (contract), his earrings (scars of that night- his ear was pierced to put a price on him), his ring (his family/role as watchdog), a teacup (ties in with the teapot on sebs side) and honey (symbolising his night terrors/on going trauma)... but there's also his cane, hat and shoes- all of which he has on right now in the story. it's interesting, while sebastian has his knife and fork, ciel doesn't have his gun. instead, it is his clothes—these are what he uses as "weapons" so to speak. with them, he appears older and visibly seen as nobility. his front to protect himself.

while for sebs it's his gloves (contract), his watch (which can symbolise a lot of things actually... mainly that his time as sebastian the butler is finite. eventually it will run out), his head butler pin (his role as butler, it used to be tanaka's and we know how important it is thanks to the murder arc), the teapot (maybe to match the teacup, he is serving the tea after all), a cat (akin to the honey on ciel's side, it is what brings him comfort, as seen by his response to see one after he was kicked out of the music hall by blavat)... and finally the knife and fork which are his weapons.

ciel's identity/weaponry/relationship with sebastian are intrinsically tied to the clothes he wears. rodney looking at it implies that he will challenge ciel's identity, weaken him or aim to cause the deterioration of his relationship/contract with sebastian.

other possible reasons is simply to show how much the hotel personalises the experience of each guest (by examining them closely), foreshadowing how creepy rodney will be towards o!ciel, etc...

OR HE COULD BE WONDERING WHY THEY'RE BRAND NEW!!!

sebastian ordered a full set!! unprovoked, without being asked to. it's a "i believe in you" moment, akin to the public school arc one:

sebastian always sends an order off to nina whenever he wants to express genuine support for ciel. but rodney doesn't know that. we also don't know how he managed to make good on the bill, he either used his own pocket money (which we know he has since he gave some to finny in one of the earlier chapters in volume 2, i believe)

or he managed to convince nina that o!ciel will pay her later (which is equally possible). whatever he did, he got a fugitive good-quality clothes from his usual tailor; rodney might be curious about that.

i hope this helped, anon 💜🩶

[4aceclover]

In my humble opinion I always thought that Sun Heart was Marc and Rain Piercer was Nathaniel

(I also love the ending and how they basically acknowledge and address how LGBTQ+ people are literally attacked for no good reason, (just because they love who they love or for merely existing). It's even worse because they're kids, so this was probably their first time ever dealing with something like this, because everyone around them has been so supportive. So to actively have to experience the hate LGBTQ+ people go through every day just for existing it must have been a real shock to them)

And to everyone out there saying that this was a bad idea I beg to differ, The only two people who can't know each other's identities are Ladybug and Cat Noir and as long as nobody on the outside of their team learns their identities they should be fine

(Remember Luka knows too.)

Everyone wants to say that this is very similar to ephemeral but do we all seem to conveniently forget that Alia and nino also share these kinds of secrets with one another. When they got their identities revealed Yes it was out of their control but when Alia became Rena Fertive she later on told nino the truth she didn't keep that secret from him

(Plus when Marinette has that conversation with Alia about telling nino about her second role she doesn't get angry at her she understands why she did it, she trusts her friends with these miraculouses you really think she didn't expect them to do something like this, Heck everyone knows Alix's identity even Lila herself)

This might seem bad on the surface but in reality this is not a bad thing for these two to do

The only reason why Nathaniel even reveals himself in the first place was because he didn't want Marc to worry about him, because he could tell based off that comment "I don't want you throwing yourself into danger for me cuz you're not a superhero" that he was worried and he didn't want to worry his boyfriend That's how you know they really love each other

Are you seriously going to tell me that Rose and Julica wouldn't have done the same thing or what about Ivan and Milan

It's not their fault as the story foreshadowed this ending anyway they shouldn't have to lose their powers because of their love after all the original ending was foreshadowing this ending the entire time

(I understand why people thought this was about Marinette Adrian but no this was about them)

They didn't make a mistake here I actually wholeheartedly agree with this choice of theirs. The only thing we should be concerned about isn't them revealing their identities but Lila taking an interest in Nathaniel in the first place because if she's taking an interest in one of our heroes (like Gabe did To Luka) then that's what we should be worried about not them revealing their identities this was going to happen sooner or later

As Rena Rouge and Carapace showed us if you truly love someone you don't hide these kinds of secrets from them

Today is a great day to be a fan of Marc and Nathaniel

[who-do-i-know-this-man]

since this is where I got all my trans manga recommendations I figure I'll post this here. It's my first impressions after reading 1 volume of each.

Skip and Loafer: Pretty standard slice of life but I feel it's really well done. Each of the characters have strong and distinct personalities without coming off like caricatures. It's very laid back, based off the first chapter one might expect that it will do the "protagonist is the least popular student ever" trope but the story is smart enough to know that that's dumb. I also feel like the way the story has social webs is really cool. Even just from one volume it is super clear that every character has their own circle of friends that overlap with each other character's to various degrees. I would recommend this if you like a well done chill slice of life.

Last Gender: I have mixed feelings on this one. It kinda feels like a similar set up to Our Dreams at Dusk, which is one of my favorite manga. Both focus around people of various queer identities who frequent a specific place. But while ODaD has the main character, who serves as both a point of view and a connecting throughline to make it feel like the story is still progressing as we shift focuses. Last Gender does not have this. You would think the lady on the cover would be that but at least in volume 1 she's one of the least focused on characters. Instead the POV is constantly shifting to whichever character is being focused on. Also while ODaD focuses on a character or two + the main character each volume, Last Gender switches the focused character each CHAPTER. It has this weird format where each chapter is basically a character being like "I'm [name] and I'm [queer identity] here is a perspective." And then they meet person two who gives a different perspective and then said person two becomes the focus of next chapter. This leads to it feeling like a barely connected short stories where none of them have time to flesh out. It also leaves the central location to feel less like the lived in place of real community we are told it is, and more a place for exactly two people to talk to each other at a time. I'll try at least 1 more volume but if it continues this format I don't think I'll read further.

Welcome Back Alice: This is an odd one. So it's basically a love triangle between the main character, the girl he has a crush on, and the trans character who is being welcomed back (who is oddly named Kei and not Alice). What makes this odd is the character of Kei, who is such an incredibly strong and proactive character that she completely dominated the story. Almost the entire thing after she is welcomed back is her literally grabbing characters by the arm, dragging them places, doing things at them, and said other characters reacting. Now this isn't bad, it makes Kei a VERY interesting character, but I do hope future volumes give other characters any chances to show off their own personalities.

Just Like Mona Lisa: First thing I wanna mention about this book is the art is simply incredible. The limited use of color is so unique and striking that I literally made a post about it on my main the second I started the book. As for the story, it's another love triangle. And I'm gonna say now that my opinion of the story will depend a LOT on the ending. Because the setup is the world of this story has people born genderless, but around 12 they pick on and their body accommodates. The main character however is 18 and is still genderless. But they are confessed to twice on the same day, by both a male and female friend. The thing that makes me so wary is that the way they frame it is that the love interests basically have to compete to forcefem and forcemasc the main character since both of them want a hetero relationship. Now I HOPE that the story will acknowledge this as a character flaw of both of them, and their arcs will be about accepting the MC for who they are, but as of finishing the first volume it's unclear if that's the writer's intention. (I also of course hope for a poly ending since that is always the objectively best way to resolve a love triangle plot but that I would be less upset by it not happening).

Requiem of The Rose King: A lot sure did happen. I think I understood about 70% of it, but I may be high balling that number. This one I absolutely will need more than 1 volume to have any opinion of, I'm just putting it here for completeness. I am curious where it goes tho.

X-Gender: Our first autobiography; and honestly I felt it wasn't the best. With autobiographies I feel like the best of them have a clear vision of what to conclude. This could be of a certain topic of a certain theme (For some masterwork of autobiography I can not recommend enough the work of Zerocalcare, he has a show called Tear Along The Dotted Line and it is amazing. It will give you an idea of what I mean.) X gender does not do this. It feels much more like the author wrote whatever story they could think of when they wrote each chapter. There is no connecting throughline. There's literally a whole chapter where out of nowhere the author just explains to you stuff about periods, which while informative was not necessary for anything this book was going on about. Like the individual stores are interesting but it honestly feels more like a curated diary or a blog than a book.

The Bride Was A Boy: See this one gets it right. The author went into this wanting to tell the story of her transition and relationship to her husband, and keeps the stuff told relevant so that it feels like a cohesive book. The art is also so adorable, I'm honestly so disappointed that this author doesn't seem to have any other book (at least in english) because her art is just so cute. It's also the only book that was only 1 volume so I can recommend this one with certainty since I've read the whole thing.

Overall I would like to thank all of you who recommend these to me. I'll read at least another volume or two of even the ones I didn't like the best to see if they can turn me around, but quite a few of these I feel like I'm probably going to read all the way through. (oh also I know not all of the one's recommend to me are here, in particular ones I plan on reading online. I have most of these on my reading list still but I'm going through the many books I have checked out from the library first, so if I waited to make this post until I read those it would take quite a while)

[colatheblacksheep]

interesting little things in 5.6 archon quest that i HAVE to talk about

I'M ON EXTREMELY HIGH ADRENALINE AFTER COMPLETING THE QUEST AND I DEFINITELY NEED TO GET IT OUT OF MY SYSTEM.

it felt too short and i just can't get enough of it. even though considering this is an interlude chapter, it's jam-packed with a LOT of things.

SPOILERS INCOMING!!! if you haven't played the quest, i HIGHLY RECOMMEND you play and experience it youself, it's worth it i promise

Mondstadt genuinely feels like family and home to me. that part where people from all over the city talked over the wind current during the fight? they feel real and alive, friendly and united. the emphasis of family throughout the quest too, with Diluc and Kaeya, Jean and Barbara and even Albedo with his...uhh...unique family, i love it.

i don't know why but seeing Sucrose speaks up in the trial is so satisfying to me that i freaking cheered when i saw her dialogue lol. she deserves more screentime.

now that we know more people who are aware of Venti's identity, i sort of want to see more teasing towards Venti from these people. that whole conversation with Dahlia and Venti? absolutely hilarious. and we get to see Venti being embarrassed or flustered.

Venti and Varka's interaction is also absolute gold. jokester for jokester dynamics. what do you mean Varka says he is being chased around by enemies and Venti replies with 'have fun with that'???

i love how when Alice mentions that she is going to be 'here right away', Jean's immediate reaction is like 'no wait, right here?? right now?? my office???'.

i didn't have much thought on Venti and Albedo interacting before but when it actually happens with them knowing each other's identity, it tickled something in my brain. watch as i write 2 more long posts on each of them separately cause they are the heaviest lore carry (which should have included Kaeya given his background, but it isn't relevant in this quest so...) in Mondstadt and probably the entire story really. i just love my mysterious and powerful boys ok?

speaking of mysterious and powerful boys, while his name was only brought up once, we all love seeing Wanderer being involved in another important archon quest.

now to the climax...

HUMAN DURIN??? like i was already hella shocked when Albedo said that he is going to 'replace Dragonspine Durin with Mini Durin' but that whole cutscene where he utilised the entire Mondstadt city as his alchemy site??? the rune running across the entire city??? (with Timaeus and Sucrose rushing to investigate the work of their master which is so wholesome) his chant??? the peek at human Durin form at the end??? HOLY SHIT OF BARBATOS this whole thing is so cool and beautiful.

like like, the 2 shot where it zooms out on the entire Mondstadt city with golden light so bright even the fireworks cannot compare??? i am so in love with this cutscene i'm gonna rewatch it so many time and freaking laser beam it into my brain.

[mebis-rain-world-corner]

Within rain world's visual motifs, there's chains

Chains are present throughout the whole game as old remnants and possibly as part of machinery

However, there's places where they show to have a deeper meaning

Shaded "The True Anoited" Citadel, Holy Ground where memories are cherished, has an unique style of column that incorporates a chain motif

it can be better appreciated on the ruins immediately around the shoreline gate, where they're better iluminated

This pattern is also present on the cabinets

This motif runs older though, much much older

to the time of the Depths

A statue of a humanoid, in the classic stance of an echo, chest binded in chains

A head wrapped in chains, to the point of covering all features

...but with an X breaking the pattern, cutting through the chains

In a way, the progression of the higher levels of karma look more like cutting through a knot or a ring, a visual of breaking the cycle

this already gives in the meaning behind this motif: the chains are the cycle, binding the self to the carnal, ascension being the severing of the cycle to move freely above and beyond

Its entire memory is filled with a mantra repeated... 5061 times - and then a termination verse. It was worn as an amulet, probably together with many identical others forming a pattern on some garment. The repeating mantra is important because it symbolizes the cyclical nature of life and death, and the termination verse is a symbol for ascension above and beyond it. I don't know how familiar you are with the nature of life and death, but I imagine like all living creatures you have some intuitive knowledge? Then you know that death isn't the end - birth and death are connected to each other like a ring, or some say a spiral. Some say a spiral that in turn forms a ring. Some ramble in agonizing longevity. But the basis is agreed upon: like sleep like death, you wake up again - whether you want to or not. This is true for all living things, but some actually break the cycle. That doesn't apply to you or me though, you are too entangled in your animal struggles, and for me not breaking that cycle is an integral part of the design. Our mantras keep repeating.

"(...) and then a termination verse"

What is a chain if not a number of interlocked rings? The Shaded Citadel pattern even looks more like a double spiral, a double helix

The urges are also described as "binding"

fun fact one of the elements in an echo's design is called chains

it's the row of golden flakes bound to the legs

considering the depths statues, maybe part of the rituals in preparation for ascension included binding the body in chains, as a metaphor for the binding nature of the cycle, meant to dissolve in the void alongside the body as signifier of the liberation of the mind

[minzart]

Beggars can't be choosers (4)

Ao3 - Prev - Next

Decepticons & Reader(GN), Ravage & Reader(GN), Megatron & Reader(GN)

You find an "automatic" tank busted in the middle of the night, and as the good millitar Mechanic that you are, you fix it.

Or, the Decepticons don't have a trained doctor(yet), and you just volunteered as a substitute by their leaders' logic and standards

"Optimus Prime!?" Megatron roars as he paces around the main hagar

"Energon operation: half a failure" Soundwave speaks, holding with his hands Ravage, the feline minicon struggling to keep awake, bleeding energon "Base location: still secured"

"But by an inch Soundwave! By an inch! Have not one of you thought of calling for backup?!"

"It's not our fault that speedy here thought he could take on the Prime alone!" Rumble says gesturing to the Reflector trio and points accusatory at Skywarp

"You should keep your mouth shut! I didn't thought nothing!" The purple seeker stomps to were the minicon is and treatens to squash him

The purple bot jumps out of the way "oh yeah?! I remember you saying it would be an easy win!"

"You also said that! Don't play dumber than you already are!"

"You are stupid!"

"Silence!" A blast came between the arguing bots, both promptly shut up and formed position "what was your designed mission?"

"... locate Energon signature close by... sir" both answered quietly

"And once found, what was to be done?"

"Report"

"And what did you do?"

"... not... that?"

"You engaged in direct combat with the leader of the autobots! Exactly! Very good! And on top of that he chased you both for miles on miles because someone didn't check if they had been followed! Look what a briliant plan you two made"

As the tyrant voice grew in anger, Rumble hid behind Skywarp and the seeker started to frantically look around and coil in himself

"If it weren't for Thundercrackers patrol you both would have been captured or dead" He vents, a thin line of smoke floating around his helm "Starscream..."

The purple robots finally relax, Skywarp kicks Rumble "get off"

The red seeker vents to himself, and joins the middle of the hagar, preparing himself to what is to come, typical of the tyrant "yes Lord Mega-"

Megatron grabs the seeker firmilly by the troat "get your seeker under protocol"

He releases the flyer, and turns to Soundwave "get Ravage to the medical wing, and after, have a talk with your caccette"

"Yes Lord Megatron" the spy comander walks out, Rumble running behind him

The tell tale sound of a roar made the silver tyrant look up, Thundercracker has arrived and with him, you

....................................

The base was intact, for good or worse, you sigh, in relief of still being in a relative close place to familiar locations, if only you knew which direction the city was... Thundercracker made circles and circles before setting in a true route, making the travel double the leght than it should be, and making your anxiety worse

Entering the base was not better, the tension in everyone was clear as day, Frenzy ditched you, running pass Megatron and the seekers to who knows were, you step with caution, not sure if you even know wich direction is the medical wing... At least you hope you are supposed to stay there anyway...

You see three minicons, almost identical to each other, entering different paths, one notices you and waves, you wave back. Besides the silver tank, there was a purple and black seeker, being scolded relentlessly by the red one, Starscream you think was his name, something about recklessness and knowing ones place... ah, just like your job, feels like home already

Your name is called, and you are not the only one who jumps in attention, for a moment, silence reins in the makeshift hagar of the Decepticon base as Megatrons voice booms "you are required in the medical wing, go quickly"

You salute as reflex "yes sir"

And runs to the nearest hall "The other one human"

And imediatly you back away from said hall and runs to it's nearest counterpart, this time no-one calls you back

Are you panicking? Sure, was it because the life of a killing robot was in the line? Probably, did you know what you are supposed to do if push comes to shove? Fuck no, you don't, but your life is on the line, because, you bet all your hard earned money in this hypothesis, if this new patient dies you will go with it, so fake it till we make it

You miss your bed already

Finding the only frame without a door was easy enough, and as you push the heavy cloth out of the way to see who you will be dealing with, you are met with the quiet blue mech from the meeting room, his red visor snapping to attention, but he looked fine, who didn't was the relatively small, to Cybertronian standarts, mechanical panther in the metal table, smudges of blue all through it's body, the big one probably cleaned it while waiting for you

You look up at the metal table, and burrow your pride as you speak, survival first "help me get up, I'll take a look"

You distract yourself from the never wavering gaze by looking through your tools, leaving your bags in the corner, it did take some seconds for you to hear the giant mech bend down and grab you firmly

He puts you beside the panther, its red eyes shine noticing you, the mech growls, not very diferent from a lion, just more scratchy and mechanical, your survival instincts beg you to hide, freeze, but you power trough them, you can cry later, you can panic later

You notice leaking blue lines coming from the minicons' left arm, that place also being the one most clean and dented, with cautious steps you approach the beast, duct tape in hand, hammer in the other

The second you get close enough, the black mech tries to bite in your direction but is too weak to make actual fast movements. You still jump back from the sudden close of its mouth "I-I need to get closer to stop the leaking! I can see that some joints are also being obstructed by some dents, I am not here to harm you..."

The black mech still growls at you, then it stops momentarily, you hear the compress and de-compress of pressure, it sounds almost like a whine "please..."

You see two hands hold the black mech head, the blue guy apparently never left, you nod to him and start your work

Finding the leaking pipes was the easiest part, the panther was smaller than the other, like Rumble, so you had to bend yourself in some weird angles to be able to properly tie things togheter again, the hammering however... you couldn't do it gently. The feline mech jumped every once and while in response to you, but with the blue one holding it still, you were not harmed... only scratched here and then when it tried to move its arm around

Finally, the worst had passed, but your patient was still too... out of it, slowly you approached its neck, and spots a light coming from wires brushing agains each other, clearly snaped, you hum

"Do you have rubber?" You ask your temporary assistant, he slowly picks a black heavy cloth from the closest table and drops near you, with scissors you cut a small new little cloth to yourself, wrap it around your finger and pray it works

You still felt the burn, but at least you were not electrocuted alive, so hey, a win. Once you tape the two wires together again, you can feel the tension leaving the black mechs' body, the hums of the engine becoming quieter, slower, tired

When everything was done, you step back from your work, wondering how late it was, wondering how would your life be from now on... and as the blue mech scratches the black ones chin, as it purrs in content, a part of you can't help but think that this isn't so bad...

Taking advantage of the high height, you look around, and decide to make an improvised climbing rope, so at least if someone else comes putting others in this table, you can escalate there yourself

You work quietly, twisting left over wires and testing some equipment you saw around, many of shapes you never seen before, some familiar but bigger, your exploration is halted by a deep voice, said as trough a filter "Patient designation: Ravage"

You jump and look back at the duo, the blue mech still by the medical table, looking only at the black feline whose optics are closed, he picks the feline up, and whispers "transform"

And like a switch, Ravage contorts and clicks and molds, into a black and grey, big, very big, caccette... oh.

His chest plate pops open, and he puts Ravage inside, together with a familiar black and red caccette... that... must be the guy that would kill you if he discovered Rumble had come for a check-in, that... is Soundwave... who was also by Megatrons side in that meeting, who apparently is in command of the caccettes like Starscream is of the seekers...

Oh wow you could have fucked this up so easily. He finally exits the medical wing, and as he passes trough the curtain, you hear one last thing "Quality of work: lacking, however, adequate for now. Attention: appreciated"

And he leaves just like that, you are finally alone

.............................

You still feel the dryness of tears in your cheeks when you wake up, you check your phone, battery so low you know it will discharge the second you use it to anything other than check time, midnight, great

The rumbling sound that first registered in your ears hasn't stopped, loud, too loud to be just the base, was someone close? You toss the thin blanket you finally aquired aside, taking a minute to adjust your sight to the light again, and immediately notice the... visitor...

Megatron stands by the entrance of the medical wing, arms crossed and staring directly at you, face unreadable

".... hi?" You murmur, a yawn scaping you "how may I be of service?"

Your voice snaps the tyrant out of his thinking "a check-up is in order"

He walks to the corner of the room that you have named "main alt-mode check in area", transforming again in the silver tank you first met... two days... almost three ago... you survived 2 whole days in this mess

"You may proceed to the leaking pipe first" his voice echoes from the tank "I expect discretion with whatever you find in me... doctor"

You nod, picking your backpack up "of course"

Getting inside your patient was familiar, now his engines are far louder than before, likely because he isn't almost passing out, his voice far more firm than that night, lights more potent

Crawling to his engine, you fiund the leaking pipe, the duct tape stretched, forming small gaps that are accumulating drops of energon, but also something strange is happening, in the sides of the tape, it's almost seamlessly transitioning to the metal of the tube

Inspecting closer you see the metal slowly taking over the tape, like vines or... veins. You tap the middle of the makeshift band-aind, it's as you expect, malleable, then you slowly make you way to the corners, tap over metal, but slowly, the tape texture changes to a more solid one, until you finally finish your inspection and it's only metal

"It's growing back" You murmur "like a human tissue... amazing"

"Something you would like to share?" You jump, forgetting briefly that this tank was, in fact, alive

"It's looking good!" You answer, and start to fix the leaking again "it did streech a bit too much, and could potentialy be riped apart again, my hipotesis is because whatever you are made off is far more streechier than human materials, but!"

You finish your work and tapping gently the tube "It looks like it can be used as healing aids, you are growing back the original... metal? Skin? Tissue? Whatever you call it, using the tape as a bridge and guide, that's amazing, haven't seen anything like it"

"Of course you haven't" you can hear the smug amusement in the warlords tone "Cybertronian biology seems to be too advanced for you fleshies to even think about"

You roll your eyes, making you way back out of the tank, still, his pride isn't without its merit, what more is diferent yet similar in your species you wonder...

"I recommend you stop transforming too often" you get out of him, hearing the now familiar sound of mass displacement "give time for your own body to permanently fix the inssue"

"So human material can be used as healing aids by Cybertronians..." Megatron sits against the wall, the scene is strange for you, he looks tired, yet he keeps talking "you are correct that mass displacement might interfere with the healing process, they are far too stiff to keep up with living metal"

The silver mech continues rambling, voice far softer than you have heard before, you don't dare to sit besides him, but you do lean in the nearest wall, waiting for his orders or comand, your eyes dropping every so offten

"But better temporary impaired, than dead" his eyes are fixed in nothing "the normal reabilitation time of a critical replaced part os usualy mere cycles, how long do you think it would take for my body to implement this new material into itself without risk?"

You jump into attention, shaking your head of its sleepiness "huh? ... I... am not sure.... usualy, for human standards, we heal in months after a cyrurgy? This is complete new territory, maybe a check-up every so often to make sure it's still going well is recommended?"

He nods, satisfied with your answer "then it's decided"

Megatron calls your name and continues "you work at a millitar facility near were you found me yes?"

You freeze, then remember you were the one to tecnicaly imply that by your "conversation" in your first metting "yes...?"

"A mechanic, part of the test prototype and regular concert of warmachines, I have a job for you"

You hold your breath, doing your best to no tremble under his red gaze "you, are to misdirect a small portion of your recieving shipment of parts, not always, but every so offten, so that we can still have a consistent suply of spare parts"

He smiles, sharp and crooked, you almost screams how the fuck are you supposed to do that imediatly, but bites your tongue in time, waiting for the warlord to finish

"And tend to whatever soldier I send your way for their check-up" you see him open his arm plate, tiping something and a hologram appears above it, he is taking notes in a language you have never seen "it would also be easier since they would be in alt-form and you would have all the equipment necessary for a better assessment, even an unassuming team... do you have a communication device?"

Too shocked with the reality that this massive robot has a functional hologram program in his arm you just take out your phone and hand it to his extended hand

With more gentleness than you would expect, he places the device inside his arm, a purple glow coming from there, then he lowers his arm to your level "take it, we may now reach you when necessary"

You reach inside, and your phone looks the same, battery still low, then a ping shows up

[Comunication test - 01:26:77 - °°/°°/°°/M.R - D.C: Megatron ]

"M.R?"

"Metal Rein"

"D.C... Direct Communicator?"

"Precisely, it's working, good, Shockwave will be please"

You hum, not daring to ask who that is, you would meet everyone eventually anyways... you still don't know if it's a good thing

[lilolilyr]

For @duckprintspress' May Trope Mayhem prompt 5: 'inherited blessing or curse', a Leverage continuation of the ficlet I wrote for the prompt 'Bachelor Auction', maybe read that first! <1k, G, no warnings apply.

~

Parker knows that she's supposed to pay attention to the auction, but it's hard, okay! There are so many diamond earrings and silver bracelets and expensive watches and ohh, is that a real ruby on the necklace of that -

Ah, it's Eliot on stage now, except Hardison has made a fake identity for him of course. Just like with the hummingbirds! Well, except the identity probably didn't belong to anyone in the first place. At least Parker doesn't think they need to get rid of the body of whoever was supposed to be auctioned off instead of Eliot.

Parker pays a bit of attention during the bidding, helping Sophie drive up the price until some woman near the front of the stage gets Eliot for ten thousand dollars. Parker understands wanting Eliot, he's really good at what he does and he's looking good up on the stage, but not good enough to pay ten thousand dollars for, he's not even doing anything up there, just kind of standing there and staring, and the woman who bought him doesn't even know anything about how good Eliot is at his job, so it can't be that. Maybe she's the grifter they're looking for? If so, they'll know soon enough.

While they wait for the other men to get auctioned off, Parker gets sidetracked again by all of the jewelry she could be stealing. And alright, so maybe she's still not entirely focused on the stage when Hardison is up, and he has to tell her to keep bidding a couple times until she remembers to do that. It's not her fault that she isn't looking at Hardison, she can look at him pretty much any time, and she can only steal the necklace the woman in front of her is wearing right now -

Still, Parker gets into another bidding war, and finally Hardison is auctioned off for even more money than Eliot.

~~~

Parker is on her own again a bit after that, of course leaving in her ear piece and vaguely listening to the others talking to their dates or bickering with each other, Sophie seems a bit jealous of Nate flirting with some other woman, maybe that's why Sophie thought Parker would also be jealous of Hardison flirting with someone else? People tend to think that other people will do the same thing they're doing, Parker has noticed.

She's not jealous of the woman with Hardison, though. The girl doesn't look bad she supposes, but she also seems kind of boring. All of the rich people at the auction seem kind of boring, actually. Like their personality is 'money'. And no, Parker doesn't think that that makes them comparable to her, because her personality isn't money, it's theft, and also a bunch of other things maybe. Is it because they've all always been rich? Maybe if you don't have to steal your gold and precious jewels, if you grow up always having them, you don't appreciate the shiny things for how shiny they are.

Parker lifts a bracelet off of a lady sipping champagne and smiles as she lets the little golden chain disappear inside her dress. She definitely appreciates the shiny. A shame the others on her team don't tend to, they could have so much fun robbing everyone in this place instead of looking for some runaway murder bride!

~

Part 2 of ? • more Leverage by me • prompt me!

Edit: part 3 is up! • Reblogs appreciated :)

I don't have a Leverage tag list yet, let me know if you want me to @ you when I post more!

[antivanplumage]

What is your Rook's relationship with Davrin?

they're very close friends and allies - they did flirt around a bit, but when davrin asked if it was going anywhere, nero got cold feet and had to concede.

What do they like about him?

words and banter tend to flow easily between the two. they flirt with each other for fun, not expecting anything to come of it. davrin is nothing like the other wardens nero's heard of before: he's charming, he's down to earth, he's honest when he can and is clear about what he can't.

What do Rook and Davrin enjoy doing together?

they're both hunters of different kinds, as an assassin and a monster hunter. davrin likes to take them out on hunts, and nero likes to show him what an assassin's route through a city would be.

What do they advise him to do with the griffons?

nero tells him to leave them in arlathan. they still trust the wardens very little - davrin is an exception, in their eyes.

Do they think Davrin should reconnect with his clan?

nero is very disconnected from both their elven identity and the idea of family, so the idea's never even crossed their mind.

Did Rook choose Davrin to lead the distraction team on Tearstone Island? Why or why not?

they chose harding - it had nothing to do with their faith in davrin's abilities, just an unwavering belief that harding would be better equipped to get this job done.

Lastly, if you want, write a unique banter between Davrin and your Rook!

nero: Davrin! Think fast. You've been shot by an arrow coated in poison. You're already starting to feel sluggish and weak, and if you cannot find the right antidote, you're certain you will be paralyzed. What's the poison?

davrin: Soldier's Bane, right?

Nero: Good, good!

Davrin: You know, that isn't as effective on Wardens. One of the ingredients only works so well because of the taint.

Nero: Hah. I will have to keep that in mind, dear Warden.

extra: zevwarden worldstate banter

Davrin: They say one of the Crows were hired to kill the last two Wardens in Ferelden during the Fifth Blight. Would they really do that?

Nero: Yes. Don't listen to what Lucanis has been selling you - to most Crows, coin is coin.

Davrin: So, say you weren't involved in this, and someone hired you to take me out? You'd do it?

Nero: Yes, I suppose I would. A Crow doesn't fail a contract.

Davrin: I notice one did.

Nero: Shall I fall into your arms and run away with you, instead? No, I wouldn't be so weak. Apologies.

Davrin [ to himself, mostly ] : Sometimes, I forget you're worse than Lucanis...

Rook Intro Hour: Davrin

Good morning, everyone! As you may or may not already know, #DavrinWeek2025 is coming up from May 19th - May 25th, hosted by @datvcompanionweeks !

To celebrate, today's Intro Hour will be centered around Davrin!

How it works: I ask you a question about your Rook(s) and you answer it with as much brevity or verbosity as you desire. The easiest way for me to keep track of everyone is for you to reblog this post and add your answer, although you can also mention me in a separate post, if you want! You can do this whenever you want, and I’ll reblog it + add some comments! There’s no time limit— if you want to do the older ones, they are collected here! (The post is updated on Fridays!)

*Please be aware that if you rb RIH to a community WITHOUT rbing to your blog first, I CANNOT rb and comment. If you want me to comment, please put the post on YOUR BLOG first. Thanks!

Today's Question(s): What is your Rook's relationship with Davrin? What do they like about him? What do Rook and Davrin enjoy doing together? What do they advise him to do with the griffons? Do they think Davrin should reconnect with his clan? Did Rook choose Davrin to lead the distraction team on Tearstone Island? Why or why not? Lastly, if you want, write a unique banter between Davrin and your Rook!

Have fun, and be creative!

[gnomewithalaptop]

Rereading the Our Worlds at War tie-in again and God I miss their friendship every day