#pacman record

[yellowmanula]

W kultowym sklepie Bikini Waxx Records

Jest to winylowy second shop opierający swój vibe o kulturę "diggowania" i szukania perełek, ja na tropie dubów i dubstepów oczywiście do mojej audycji Dubmachine

[kakushusband]

I am zzzzonked the fuck out eating a pickle. All I could think of was eheh, pinkle

[narcjsistx]

𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄! | itoshi rin x fem reader

part ten: arcade || BAND AU, A BIT AGED UP

plot: after your band's last concert, a few days after Rin's, an online competition arises about who is the best bassist. A whole new challenge is created by the new fandom who loves you, but people don't know that you and the bassist of Blue Lock haven't spoken in about 3 years since you broke up, when you were sixteen

01 : PRESENT, TODAY

characters presentation || last part || next part ; words: 0.9k

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!. you can find the other parts of the story by searching in the section dedicated to bllk

You still weren't completely convinced about this bet, not knowing Rin was about to arrive. How had he gone from ignoring you, almost completely, at the recording stage to asking you to gamble the concert date with a simple afternoon at the arcade?. You didn't know if Blue Lock knew anything, but ReAl knew absolutely nothing... what would happen if you lost?

You also didn't understand why he chose the arcade in particular. Well, actually you knew, but it had been years now, and he had admitted that he had changed completely compared to the Rin you knew. You had spent many afternoons locked in here, both with Sae and alone, when the bands hadn't yet been born. You were the poorest among the brothers, but while Sae never let you win, Rin did it on purpose; and you knew how much he hated losing. It was a special place for both, before the big breakup

"Hey" someone says, and you turn around recognizing the voice "Hey" you say greeting him, a little awkward and unsure of what to say, a feeling he's probably feeling now too "Shall we come in?" you ask, and he nods

The silence is replicated by the noise of the games in operation and by the words of the people, who in reality are not very many. It's a neighborhood arcade, it's never been so full, but you liked it that way at the time. Notice how some games you remembered have been removed, while others have been installed. But your favorite is still there, old and with dust, but there

“Do you want to start with something specific or…?” he says, and you think about it "How about we do the usual things we did as teens?" you ask, and he nods, making his way to an old pacman you two always used "Whoever wins here gets a point. Let's make it 3, okay?" he asks, and you nod, standing to the side of the game "Start"

The game begins, Rin concentrates like he did as a kid. It's almost funny to watch him struggle, like it's complicated. It reminds you a little of the face he always made when you were on the beach after Blue Lock rehearsals, but that's another story

“May I ask why you asked me this?” you ask, as he plays. He raises his gaze for a few seconds, then lowers it again to play "Another challenge between bass players would have been the last straw. This or another poll voted by people we don't even know, you decide" he says, and you roll your eyes in amusement "You have a point. In fact... you literally won. Lucky ass"

Rin relieves you, standing to the side while you start the game. Silence reigns supreme, but it's like there's so much you should talk about. Does Rin have a girlfriend?

"Isn't your girlfriend jealous?" you ask, and he doesn't even think about it "She's not" he says, but he seems a little perplexed by his own answer "You? Do you have a boyfriend that you're hiding from the public?" he asks, a little curious. He tries to hide it, but you've spent too much time with Rin Itoshi not to understand his intentions or ideas "No. Nothing is planned for now. I WON!"

“I understand" he says, sighing, but you don't know if it's a sigh of relief or not. You try to ignore it as you move on to the other game: Rin goes first, and again you finish in silence

"How's the band going?" you ask, and he hesitates a bit "We're fine. We work, the album just came out" he says "I know. I heard it" you say

You heard it, yes you heard it. And if it's true that he writes the songs, they all scream your name. Or maybe you're just making mental movies

"Good. With Sae?" he asks, and you know perfectly well that the brothers haven't spoken to each other for several years now "He's still my best friend. He's always there for me" you say, without even wanting to be offensive, but Rin seems to understand otherwise "At least one of the two Itoshi knows how to be close to you"

You are speechless, and Rin loses the game. If this was a dig, now you'll start too. Is he the one who put you in this situation, and he also pretends to look like the victim? or maybe you misunderstood what he meant?

Play your game in complete silence. You win, and Rin does nothing but observe you as you play and as you move towards the last game: you are tied, whoever wins this one wins the date. You start playing, and you win this game too. It's Rin's turn... and he wins too. And now?

"What do we do now?" you ask perplexed, alternating your gaze between the game and the boy, a short distance away from you. You see Rin thinking about something, but something tells you that he's not thinking about a solution, but something else; he's distracted, unusual for someone like him. Or perhaps this is also a part of his new being, who knows

You see him approaching, but you think it's to go and see the score of the game, to see who has scored more points between the two

But you find yourself randomly with his hand on your hip and his lips pressed to yours, in a kiss

TAGLIST: @x3nafix ; @kittenish0 ; @littlejapanesesightseeingtrip ; @pan-kojiwa ; @pookalicious-hq ; @kaz-0e ; @sof888a ; @chugging-bleach ; @matchablossomsss ; @lovelymeguru ; @thebestsetter ; @yamsverse ; @princesssae ; @yuukigyatgyat ; @azharyy ; @rwbie ; @bubybubsters ; @swagkittybear ; @syarc0re ; @rink1sser ; @frogsrules ; @hwaassaa ; @chuuyalvover

[beesmygod]

last night adam and i watched a video on youtube explaining which smash character have canonically played instruments and i got SOOOOO mad because she said pacman doesnt play an instrument WHEN WE ALL KNOW that in pacman 2 the new adventures, pacman goes into an instrument store and plays the piano and you can make him have a mental illness moment with the drums

this was recorded 12 years ago so its ass but you can clearly see his crime

[superblysubpar]

📻 “It’s your summertime magic, make me feel this way. Got me boo’d up. Girl, oh, you’re my world - baby girl my whole world. You feel like summertime, you took this heart of mine.”

Hawkins, Indiana: 80 degrees and sunny all summer long - perfect for falling in love. With a newly renovated downtown, there’s plenty of opportunities for stolen kisses, loud arguments over miscommunication, and grossly public displays of affection.

You’ll be able to visit Holland’s - the new record store and coffee shop where Robin can tell you why your taste in music is a bit pedestrian but she’ll make you a mean latte while she does. I hear when the sun goes down, her drink making skills get even better.

If you’re looking for something a bit more active, Hawkins now has it’s very own roller rink. There’s this grumpy employee, Eddie, but he’s all bark with no bite - you’ll have fun…for awhile.

And then of course, no hot day is complete without a Summer blockbuster! Steve will make sure the PacMan machine doesn’t eat your coins and your cherry slurpee never reaches lower than halfway down the cup, and on Wednesdays, you can watch him interact with all of the kids for free movies in the park - try not to melt like the popsicles he’s handing out.

*Set during the same summer. While you’re the reader in all of them, these are three separate stories. All will contain smut and therefore 18+ get out of here minors!

Strawberry Lipstick State Of Mind

robin buckley x fem!bi! reader | hidden relationship | the vibes

Love The Way You Look At Me

eddie munson x fem!reader | grumpy x sunshine | the vibes

If You're Wondering If I Want You To, I Want You To

steve harrington x fem!reader | best friends to lovers | the vibes

the key things to note about the stories - the warnings

the soundtrack of summer

the full playlists for each story can be found on their individual masterlists

the vibes

[emwritesstuff]

DYNAMO | Steve Rogers x Reader | part 7.

HYDRA has made their share of human experiments. You're just one of them. One of the least successful ones. One of the least functional ones. At least your life in the facility gave you a few things: unwavering resilience, cool(ish) superpowers and a great sense of humor. Steve Rogers would strongly disagree with that last one. A single chance encounter with him reluctantly brings you into the Avengers Compound, and you're determined to make his life as miserable as you can. Feeling's mutual.

AO3 | Masterlist | Playlist (coming soon!)

notes: There's more to your powers than you could have imagined. my biannual update, a large boy at least... do you guys still read this thing? (warnings: inaccurate science, brief mention of HYDRA shenanigans and minor injury) (7,411 words)

7: JOULE'S PRINCIPLE

After swinging your leg over the seat, you’re left with no other choice but to put your arms around his waist to hold on. The wind whipping around and the lapses in stability has you clinging to Steve against your better judgment, even though he’s a skilled rider and you doubt he’d get both of you into an accident.

Still, it’s enough to make you decide you’re definitely a car person.

Although you have to admit having an unobstructed view is great. You can see the entire city from the bridge you’re crossing, twinkling like it did in your imagination. It’s nice to know it does it justice. You now get why everyone loves this place so much, and you don’t regret being irresponsible one bit.

The bike is also pretty convenient. Steve zips through traffic, and soon enough the city views become a treeline and the Compound gates welcome you in.

“The lights are back on!” You say, loud enough for Steve to hear over the noise of the Harley— you’re not sure how much his super hearing can pick up.

His answer comes roughly in the same volume, as he drives you into the garage: “The maintenance guys got to it pretty quickly. No harm done, besides the temporary outage.”

“And Tony’s PacMan streak?” You ask, hopeful he’d say that was left intact too.

“…and Tony’s PacMan record streak.” This stupid video game will get you kicked out one day, you’re sure of it. Steve sighs as your shoulders fall, despite him looking way more amused at the situation than you are.

He has to help you with the helmet straps again, and you flinch from the cold feel of his fingertips. “Besides that, everything’s back to normal.” His touch makes you feel like you poked a live wire, or like when you zap yourself with your powers. “Are you—”

You shove the jacket into his chest the second Nat’s bleached-blonde head pokes inside the garage. Bruce follows right after her, and it makes you want to tease her about it, but the look on her face is so serious you decide against it.

“There you are! Bruce told us what happened during training. Are you okay?”

“He… told you. He told you everything?” You look over her shoulder at your doctor, and he shrugs apologetically.

“We were worried when you fucked off. Don’t do that again.”

You widen your eyes a little, then give her a sheepish look. “Sorry I stole your car.” Nat smiles.

“Don’t sweat it. It was smart you dumped it at the train station, actually. It has a tracker I can’t take out.” The way she says it makes you think that she can’t because she isn’t allowed to, not because she doesn’t know how. Natasha would know how.

You don’t mention that you were feeling way too queasy to drive her favorite BMW all the way to New York City, and that’s why you opted for the train; it’s likely not a very good idea, considering how cool she’s being about it all.

You’re not even sweating.

“You’re lucky Steve found your ass before we had to bring S.W.O.R.D. into the picture.”

“Yeah, I suppose it was lucky he was in town.”

“In town?” Bruce questions, and you look at him as the four of you leave the garage in direction of the Compound living area. “No, he said he was gonna find you himself—”

“Bruce.”

“—didn’t he ‘Tasha? Just took off on his Harley and–”

“Bruce!”

“…what?” Before you can finish turning to Rogers and question his previous statement, he’s already got the elevator half closed.

You glower at the metal doors. He was right about things being back to normal - here was evidence he is back to helicoptering you, watching your every step because of course he wouldn’t find you capable of staying out of trouble; and you are back to feeling the bitter taste of animosity on your tongue.

You suppose this your own fault. Maybe you should just accept you’re stuck in this place forever.

Steve lets out a big, slow breath as the elevator doors close, leaving Sparky and her pinched eyebrows on the floor below. It’s for the best. He wouldn’t have answers for her nor himself at the moment. The feel of her body, her legs, wrapped around him made him feel electrified without her using those powers of hers.

He sure wishes he had them as an excuse.

Bucky raises an eyebrow at him when the doors open again, welcoming him into their shared quarters.

“You’re back already. You found her?”

Steve nods, walking over to the kitchen and fetching a bottle of water. He’d found her alright, looking cold and distracted on the steps of the Brooklyn Museum.

“She good?”

He nods again. “Barely put up a fight.” He’s glad he acted fast and got to her before anyone else took notice, because that would be a whole lotta trouble and she was enough of it on a normal day.

The thought of a S.W.A.T team being sent, anything that seemed too much like an arrest, or in truth, anyone other than himself finding her made his skin crawl.

Maybe he was a control freak. She’d told him so herself, more than a few times now.

“No— I mean, is she good. Physically, mentally?”

Steve looks up from his water. Bucky’s empathy was not really a rare occurrence, but he’s surprised nonetheless. HYDRA is as much his enemy as it is Steve’s, and he figured that would be too big of a barrier for Bucky to cross. Apparently not.

“She’s good, Buck. All back to normal.”

Back to extensive training. Back to occasional missions. Back to mutual dislike, the image of her in his jacket already a hazy, surreal memory.

Shoved away like the jacket itself, the second Natasha had eyes on them. Normalcy.

Bucky nods, knowing as well as Steve that for people like them, and her, nothing was ever really normal.

“Try not being too hard on her tomorrow.”

“I’ll be moderately hard.” Steve shakes his head, biting the innerside of his lip to stop the chuckle that wants to come out. It’s such a stupid piece of humor.

That’s what she said, Rogers.

“I hate this,” You mutter to his broad back, and he turns to you briefly. Of course he wouldn’t slow down to keep up with your pace; his own fitness routine is more important than camaraderie, especially when you’re involved. “Three more laps.”

“What? It was two!”

“It’s three now,” Steve Rogers is a petty, insufferable little motherfucker.

Well, not actually little. It’s the principle.

“Screw you.”

You’re almost waiting for him to clap back with a “you did”, or maybe “language” but that is how you’d react. Definitely waiting for him to add another lap, or ten. He doesn’t do either, just keeps on running ahead of you.

It’s like nothing even happened.

You shake your shoulders and head like a dog does when it’s wet, as if the innuendos were water drops.

You’re not a fan of running. It’s hard for you to understand how people say they run to clear their heads, because your way to do that is taking a nap. Or several.

Taking advantage of the current distance between you and Rogers, you pause, your hands on your knees and lungs working quickly for more air. You’re surprised when he turns instead of going around to finish the lap.

“Keep up, Sparky.”

You groan, standing up with your hands on your hips and shoving a petulant finger to his chest. “Don’t call me that. I could fry you like a fish andrunright out of here. Make sure to use money this time—”

“Don’t.” He’s not looking at you. His eyes stare behind and above you, and when you turn Fury is watching you both. There’s another man with him, in a fancy military uniform that screams everything but friendly. “Just. Keep. Up.”

The urgency in Steve’s tone makes you frown. His gritted teeth. He hasn’t stopped staring at the other two.

Alrighty, then. “Three more laps?” He nods, and you resume your early morning run.

You’re both one lap in when you speak again. “Who’s that?”

“That’s General Hoss. He’s Chief Commander of the NSA.” He looks back to check if you’re following, but you aren’t, neither his pace nor the words. “National Security Agency?”

“So… he’s pest control.” You bite your lip when he agrees. “He’s here because of yesterday, isn’t he?”

“I’m guessing yes.” Frost seeps into your bones, the regret Steve wanted you to feel yesterday finally kicking in. Like he can read your mind, he continues.“I’ll talk to him when we’re done here. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“Who’s worried?” A humorless laugh leaves your lips. You keep on running. “Last one, Cap.”

He nods. “That’s the spirit,”

By the middle of the third and final lap, Bruce Banner is standing at the side of the track field, a clipboard on his hands. You stop when Rogers does, a little surprised he doesn’t make the doctor wait for you to finish your workout.

“You feeling okay? You look a little green,”

“Good morning to you too. Cap.” He says tiredly, but you’re proud of your joke regardless. Even Steve has a curl to his lip this time.

You’re wearing them all down, little by little.

“What can we do for you, Banner?”

“I’m going to need Sparky here at the lab.” You raise an eyebrow. The routine checkup is supposed to be on Monday. “Me and Tony have been analyzing your data and have a few theories about your powers being unstable.”

“Okay…” The thought of the two scientists turning you into their little project makes you feel a little uneasy.

Tony Stark specially.

“Oh great, you’re here. Why are you sweaty? It’s 7 a.m.”

You point back to Rogers with your thumb, then realized that not only there was a crowd, but also an audience to your personal shitshow. Of course Tony had to drag the spider kid into this.

“Mornin’ run.”

“Ew. No time for a shower though, lucky us. Come sit over here.” Stark ushers you to a chair, strapping your monitoring bracelets on.

“Do you plan on explaining what in the fuck you’re about to do to me?” Steve mutters a timid language, and you both glare at him. “Or at least what is it that you found out about my powers?”

He sighs and stops what he’s doing, as if you’re wasting his precious time. “What do you know about Joule’s Principle? Physics?”

“In short? Nothing.”

“Then there’s no point in explaining anything to you.”

You’re about to tell him to shove the laws of physics up his wormhole when Bruce turns from the computer he was typing on.

“Joule’s Principle is a theory about energy conversion. Basically, an electric current produces heat as it passes through a conductor,” Bruce pulls up a full body scan, your full body scan, the areas on your head, torso and hands colored deep red and orange. “This shows your body temperature spiking as your powers flare.”

“So…I am the conductor in this Joojoo…thing?”

“Joule’s Principle, my little genius. And from our observations the extreme overheating could be causing all of those gross side effects of yours. The dry cleaners were concerned about that, by that way— ”

“Just get to the point, Tony.” Steve is leaning casually on the doorframe, his eyes focused on your body scans.

Stark’s head whips in his direction. “Didn’t notice you were still here, ‘Merica.”

In all honesty, you hadn’t either.

“Anyway, the side effects- especially bad when you’re not feeding off a generator. So! Here’s a little gift for you, from me and my little elves Banner and Peter.”

You blink once. It’s a lot to digest, especially when Peter Parker is shoving a glass case on your hands, with a small glowing disc floating inside.

“Do you like it?!” He says, and you wish you could mirror his teenage nerd enthusiasm.

“Uh… sure? Very shiny. Is it gonna fix everything?”

“Yes! I mean, not exactly. Maybe?” It’s Tony’s turn to answer, and you look at Bruce for help. He gives you a sympathetic smile and nods, agreeing with his mad scientist colleague.

Great. “And you can match Mr. Stark!”

…great.

“Uh– match? Isn’t your thing basically a mini atomic bomb? How am I suppose to use this? Wait, isn’t yours inside your chest ? Where—”

“Whoa, whoa… slow down. It’s not an atomic bomb, it’s a fusion reactor. And it’s going on your suit.” You breathe out a sigh of relief, although maybe you shouldn’t. Rogers also seems relieved.

Of course it’s going on the suit.

They wouldn’t just carve a hole in your body…right? Right. You’re still coming down from that small panic when FRIDAY speaks out. Captain Rogers, General Hoss is waiting for you at the lobby.

The monitor bracelets on your wrists make sure to tell everyone about your heartbeat spiking up. Your eyes find Steve’s, his posture now stiff and imposing. The good old by-the-book Captain America everyone knows and loves.

“I’m on my way, FRIDAY.” Shit. Shit shit fucking shit—

You can only imagine how that meeting is going to go. You’re probably fucked.

Right?

Maybe you’re hallucinating, but you swear he mouths three words to you before leaving: I got you.

“Sparky, you need to breathe.”

You draw in a desperate breath, only now realizing your lungs were completely empty.

“What…what were you saying?”

“The fusion reactor is going to be installed on your suit, giving you essentially an endless energy source for you to feed off from. We noticed that your side effects are more intense when you don’t. While they might not go away completely, it might help.” You nod, it makes sense. Sort of.

“Wait— isn’t this nuclear energy? My thing is electricity, I don’t know if you noticed.”

“My Pac-Man machine surely did. Which brings us to our second point… I’ve never seen electricity put cracks on a concrete wall, babycakes.”

You shake your head, as you would if your ears were full of water.

There’s something you need to pick up from what they’re saying, but you’re not a science person like they are.

“Our main theory is that your powers are not simply manipulating electricity,” Bruce says, pulling up a screen with graphics you don’t understand. “But also converting it. We believe the electricity you converted into mechanical energy is what caused the damages to the wall. Which means you could probably do it the other way around—”

“Like a dynamo!” Peter pipes up, and he and Tony share a look.

It scares you almost as much as the outcome of General Hoss’ and Steve’s conversation.

“A what?”

“A dynamo is a type of old-school energy converting machine, like you but made of iron and magnets. It has a ring to it, don’t you think?” In your indignation, you don’t pay attention to the fact that Bruce is still explaining things.

“I’m not old-school. You have me confused with the other guy.”

“—So by analizing all this data your suit and the other tests picked up, well, it seemed natural that you could convert all other types of energy into each other. Thermal, electric, mechanical, nuclear, sound, the possibilities are—”

Endless. The potential is endless.

Dr. Hermann Steiner knew it all along.

The dots connect in your brain almost instantly: your words, your failsafe— it uncapped the ability to harness so much energy it took your powers to a whole other level. Giving HYDRA all of the control in their hands, turning you into a near-perfect, glass-domed weapon.

Until now. Maybe.

Something tells you that S.W.O.R.D is going to have a field day with this information.

What an absolutely insane week you’re having.

“I feel like this isn’t right.”

It takes Wanda a couple of seconds to answer. “Your knees are a little bent, but you’ll get there.”

Your body is folded awkwardly into the downwards dog position, the muscles at the back of your legs burning from the unfamiliar stretch. Wanda’s so good at it she puts Natasha to shame, and that one has never lost her ballerina skills.

“I’m not sure how this is supposed to be relaxing and therapeutic,”

“It helps if you focus more on your breathing than in complaining.” She grins at you, looking at little crazy from this angle.

“I’m not complaining. It’s just an— observation,” You’re slightly out of breath, and she laughs. Things have fallen into routine after General Hoss’ visit. You’re not entirely sure what the results of his conversation with Steve were, but it’s been four days since and besides the fittings with your improved suit and a promise of testing out Stark and Banner’s theory soon, not much has changed.

Beside the whole…Steve Rogers thing. You’ve barely seen him these days, since he has been leaving the Compound every single day and when he is home he makes sure to stay out of your way. And everyone else’s. You know you should be feeling elated, but for some reason it bothers you.

His constant hovering and nagging would be better than this. Probably.

Wanda announces it’s time for the reverse warrior position, and you swear you hear your joints creaking as you move into it.

“Speaking of observation,” You start now that your lungs have air in them and you can breathe again. “What’s going on with you and Vision?”

She opens her eyes slowly, tilting her head at you innocently. “Nothing’s going on. Me and Vis are just good friends.”

Her accent makes the words drag slightly, thickened as she does when she wants to play tough.

“Right. As good as Nat and Bruce, eh?” Wanda blushes, and you grin like the Cheshire cat. Bingo.

“I’ll trade that answer for one about you and Steve.” Your grin falls off your face at the same time hers grows.

“What makes you think there’s something with me and him? We’re not even good friends, and besides, he’s been avoiding me like the pla–”

“Us witches always know. Hi Steve!”

You whip your head in the direction she’s looking, fast enough to rival a horror movie. Wanda’s giggling as you stare at the empty doorway, and you roll your eyes.

“You’re the worst.”

“You started it.” She says, standing beside you to correct your posture. “Come on, deep breath. Remember the mantra?”

You glare at her while you say “Om” , elongating the O instead of addressing her first comment.

The both of you finally get to sit in a comfortable silence, after the many torturous positions you attempt to twist your body into. You have to concentrate to keep your eyes closed and not hyper alert to your surroundings.

She’s so much better at it than you are it’s almost funny, despite her insisting every time that you’ve been doing better and should keep practicing.

Not that you’re planning on giving up your joint yoga sessions anytime soon.

Wanda Maximoff is probably the most welcoming and understanding out of all of your housemates, with endless patience for dealing with your moods as if they were her own. From what you knew, she’d been in a similar position as you are now. Maybe that was why.

Maybe she was just good.

You weren’t asking about Vision simply out of curiosity: although a part of it was, you needed to know if a stern conversation with him would be necessary.

After nearly three months, she was one of the only you could confidently call your friend, besides Nat. It was… a strange feeling, still.

“Hello, Stark.”

“Fuck off. You can’t get me with that one anymore,” You call Wanda out humorously, eliciting a laugh out of her.

“I thought Yoga was supposed to make you zen,” Tony Stark’s actual voice startles you, making you jump.

He’s standing at the previously empty doorway, hands on his hips as he stares at you as if you’re wasting his precious time. You make a face at him, raising your shoulders in question, and he rolls his eyes.

“You’re late.”

“Late for what?”

“For the suit’s first real test drive, Tiny Taser. I had FRIDAY call you fifteen minutes ago!” He says, urging you to your feet.

“We can’t hear FRIDAY from here. I blocked all noises out… for zen purposes,” Wanda pipes up, and you barely have time to fight against his antics and shoot her an apologetic look as he ushers you out of the room and through the endless Compound corridors.

You end up in a glorified broom closet, with Tony reinforcing that you have 30 seconds to change into the suit or he’s making you do this on your underwear.

Alas, you’ve changed, you’re about 10% zen, and you have an audience. Natasha waves at you from behind the tempered glass where Tony is also going for safety purposes. Bruce appears behind her with a clipboard in hand.

You see Nick Fury and Rhodes at the back of the elevated platform as well, making you wonder if Netflix isn’t on today or something.

Oh, and let’s not forget Peter Parker.

They’ve place a bunch of different things on the floor for you: an array of lamps and electronic devices; heavy metal objects, like oversized dumbbells. Barrels, some empty, some filled with firewood. A chair, very thoughtful of them.

“What do I do with this shit?”

Tony Stark comes to the center of the window, leaning over a small microphone.

“You’re so sweet, aren’t you? So delicate. You can start by–” Tony is eager to get his experiment going, but someone interrupts him, though you can’t make out who or what they said. “He’s the man’s little lapdog for the week and we get held up because of that? There’s no time to lose, Romanoff.”

“Should I do some tricks?” You say, making your fingers sparkle with lightning. No one seems to be amused.

You shrug, taking to repeating your HYDRA words quietly, falling into the familiar empty head space. The best way to get precise results, since you’d be using them during missions too.

You’re more than halfway finished when the door to the test room opens and slams closed, heavy footsteps following. Steve Rogers - or better yet, Captain America - strides in, fully clad in his own tactical suit. The vintage one. “I’m here– sorry I’m late.”

As if you needed any extra pressure. Fuck me.

“What’s with the costume? Hoss made you do a kid’s birthday party?” Stark quips, and you would’ve laughed if not for the present circumstances.

“Don’t start, Tony.”

Change of momentum with change of time. Noether-Theorem.

Hail HYDRA.

You really wish that last sentence wasn’t part of it.

“Alright, Sparky. Now that we’re all here, let’s get this show going.” You nod, watching as Rogers climbs up the metal steps to join the others. “We want you to focus on using the reactor on your suit as your main source of energy. I put some stuff for you to play with there, start with your usual party trick first. Anything else, Dr. Banner?”

“If you feel anything out of the ordinary just stop immediately. We have your wrist monitors functioning at all times too.”

You can see that Rogers is saying something to them, crossing his arms against his chest.

“Yeah, yeah. Take it easy, your safety is most important. I thought that went without saying,” Tony says through the speakers.

You take a deep breath, trying to concentrate on the task and not on the group watching you. It should be nerve-wracking but it’s not, thanks to how your programming works: the energy flows from the arc reactor down to your palms, lighting up the special seams of your suit in the process.

You almost miss the feel of the electricity inside you, running on the surface of your skin instead. It’s like being under a cold shower.

With little effort you make the lamps that were displayed light up, picking up a small one and holding it in your palms until the thin glass bursts.

“Sparky? Everything good?”

“Yeah.” You don’t look up, although a voice at the back of your head says you should be protesting over the rampant use of the nickname.

You move on to the other electronics, satisfied as they all power up one by one. It was easy enough, something you could do with or without a special suit. Your usual symptoms are nowhere to be found however: a very promising result.

“Let’s tackle the other stuff now. Maybe thermal energy? The barrel in front of you has wood, try getting a fire going.”

You walk over to where Tony suggested, staring at the wood. A fire? How on earth– you’re flabbergasted they’re just letting you play and figure things out, even in this very controlled environment, when it clicks.

It might be cheating, but if you zap the wood hard enough a fire could spark.

And it does. Your lips curl as the woods begin to burn, heating up your extended hand. Heat. You can feel it on your palm, scorching instead of the familiar coldness. If the arc-reactor is a source… what isn’t?

The potential is endless.

You push your hand further into the barrel. The fire is close enough to blister skin, but you barely feel it; all you care about is the new type of energy flowing towards you as the flames roar.

It’s enough to make you stumble backwards, your palms red and burnt, eyes dry and wide. Your body feels unbearably hot. It’s not as easy to control as you expected, probably because it’s so new, leaving you to release it all at once against whatever is on the way.

The thing you classified as a large dumbbell is knocked down as your blast strikes, rolling away. The other empty barrel crashes against the concrete wall.

Half melted.

You look down at your hands. Your temple is starting to hurt, but only a little bit. “Bruce, how’s my levels?”

“…surprisingly within range.”

This time, you turn your eyes towards the audience behind the glass. You probably look deranged, wide-eyed and grinning. Steve Rogers’ eyebrows are so close to one another they look like a singular line, and if it wasn’t for the glass he’d lean off the rail and fall into your little playground.

All this attention on you, as if he hadn’t spent the past few days pretending you didn’t exist. Typical.

Not that you care.

Nat comes up to him, touching his arm and saying something in his ear. His attention shifts from you to her, and you look away.

He didn’t have to be here, did he? You wish he’d gotten caught at whatever schmoozing to General Hoss he was doing before this.

You huff through your nose, cursing your programming for not being exactly thorough with keeping your feelings at bay. The more you used it, the more loopholes you found; if someone was able to elicit a strong enough emotion out of you, it was able to slip through the cracks of the flimsy mental armor. Rogers was one of those people. Natasha too if she picked her words right.

Maybe it was the lack of rewiring your brains every time you used it, like HYDRA used to do. It was extensive and painful, much more taxing than what you do now to come down from the programming. You are definetely not reminiscing that part.

Von Strucker could stay dead and buried.

If you could not use it at all, you wouldn’t. Fury’s presence in the training room is enough evidence of how much you have to.

“Now that’s a Dynamo if I’ve ever seen one. Right, Peter?” Tony says on the intercoms, and you look back to see Peter Parker enthusiastically putting both his thumbs up.

You groan. “No. I don’t need a superhero nickname, Stark.”

“But it’s great!” Peter says.

“Too late sugarplum, you already got business cards on the way.”

“Try not to fog the glass, Rogers.” Natasha’s voice calls out on his ear, and Steves snaps out of the trance he was in.

You and that wild smile of yours, with powers just as untamed. The sight filled him with a foreign pride. It worried him immensely.

“Her vitals might be regular but she has to be more careful,” He reinforces, turning to Bruce and ignoring Nat for a second. She raises one eyebrow. Steve shrugs.

He hadn’t missed the blisters forming on the skin of your palms, something you’d feel only later but his super-soldier vision had picked up.

S.W.O.R.D was already more interested in you than he’d like, and you’ve been pushing yourself hard enough. He doesn’t want you to find out where your breaking point is.

Instinct tells him that HYDRA still having vestigial roots inside your head is what’s keeping you from harnessing your powers fully, despite the immediate effects of the programming. He can tell when you’re under the spell, his eyes finding indifference instead of a passionate hatred inside your gaze.

With abilities like these, it could all go to shit if you’re not in control. The guys in suits wouldn’t hesitate in retiring a malfunctioning S.W. on the Raft.

Sentient Weapon. Asset.

The thought makes him cringe.

“We won’t let anything bad happen to her,” Natasha whispers, and he tightens his fists against the rail. It’s a silent agreement. He’d guaranteed General Hoss your record would be set straight and that he’d oversee it personally. Control freak. He was paying that vow with cashed in favors and his dignity. This damned old suit was proof enough. Itchy, too.

The outcome of that morning turns out to be unbelievably positive, even with the stupid new nickname. You’re eager to keep finding out what you can do with your powers — S.W.O.R.D is eager to have you on the field, putting them to good use. Which in hindsight it’s quite stupid of them.

The mission had gone to shit. It had been an intelligently laid trap, with an empty warehouse building stuffed to the brim with explosives, the HYDRA rats long gone from there, resulting in the side of the building being blown to smithereens. No one was dead, which was the most important thing, but you saw ambulances speeding by as you boarded the Quinjet. The media arrived before they could, transmitting the failure live. So much for no casualties. No one felt like saying anything, not even you, ears still ringing from the blast and trying to make sense of the sight in front of you. Steve Rogers, with his shoulders hanging in defeat. His hair looks powdery from the soot and cement that littered the air.

You’re sure yours is the same way. He shares a look with you, but it feels like a question, so you tear your gaze away, whatever had been locked away slowly rising to the surface as you recite your words in reverse order. You can’t handle another half hour in this emotional limbo; you’ll just have to deal with the comedown in this noisy flying tin can instead of your quiet bathroom.

You wonder if any of it could’ve been avoided. How did none of you see this coming? It looked too easy. Too good to be true.In a whim, you used your powers to keep you all from being buried under the rubble. Rogers, Romanoff, Wilson, yourself.

But if you hadn’t deflected the blast, those neighboring buildings wouldn’t be affected. Cars crashed on the streets trying to avoid the falling concrete.

You’re the getting the hang of it, sure, but it can be either too much or too little especially working with anything that isn’t electricity.

Despite it all, the worst of it that you’ve seen was a man with a broken leg and a poor Lexus that was already on it’s last breath anyways. You’re unsure about the extent of the material damage.

It’s New Jersey’s fault for being so damn crammed, Nat says, and you want to laugh. It’s her way of assuring you everything would be okay, and you focus on the part of you that believes her.

Despite it all, everyone is alive.

One thing is certain: for the good side and the bad, it’s all your fault.

There are reporters climbing over themselves once the Quinjet lands, and Steve makes his way down first; they all also nearly climb over him too, shooting questions out so fast you can’t keep up.

His broad back basically shields you from them, almost intentionally, which is great because you suddenly can’t breathe and your surroundings are feeling too tight. Damned programming that only works when it wants.

When a stray reporter finally notices you, Sam and Nat are already grabbing your shoulders and towing you away from the crowd.

“We left him behind,” You croak once the three of you are inside the elevator and you catch a glimpse of Steve’s now straightened posture, nothing like the one on the flight back. Nat squeezes your arm in a comforting gesture, but then you look at her and see some dried blood on the side of her face. Bright red as her hair used to be.“He’ll be fine. The news channels love him,” She sighs. “At least more than they do us.”

You’re quite aware of that; you’ve seen some snippets of his interviews on YouTube. He’s always dressed sharp, not a hair out of place. The gleaming smile of America’s greatest hero.

Tony has the TV on when you arrive to the communal living room, Roger’s appearance miles away from that mental image, except for the way he always carries himself at times like these: composed, with a gentle demeanor and attentive eyes.

You hate the diplomatic part of this job.

Despite Stark’s protests, you sink on the expensive leather couch, not having the will to do anything else. Your chest feels tighter, your throat dry; is this what guilt feels like?

Someone could’ve died today.

Either way, it’s your fault.

Steve Rogers moves on to another reporter from another news channel and the one that’s on the TV begins recounting this morning’s incident.

The cameras did you dirty; everything the news got from you is a blurry picture of your face. Your eyes have more white in them than usual, and you could probably benefit from a hairbrush and nose job. Your stance is akin to a cornered wild animal, almost.

You’re not like him at all.

Rogers is back on the screen, speaking into a microphone even though there’s at least three others near his face. You don’t really register the words.

Just accident and comes with the job.

His eyebrow twitches for a single second, but it’s enough to take you back to your shared look on the Quinjet.

“Hey. You really need to go shower before Tony hoses you down right here.”

Natasha’s voice sounds distant from your left - your ear is still ringing slightly, but it’s enough to pull you out of your flat-screen induced trance.

“Yeah— yeah, okay. I’m going.” You get up, but it’s hard not to look at TV again now that they’re showing the aftermath of today’s mission.

Avengers leave warehouse destroyed at Union City: 2 surrounding buildings suffered severe structural damage.

5 people are hospitalized. 8 units have been evacuated.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it too much, okay?” From the right, her voice is somehow distant too - but you can’t blame the explosion this time. “We’ve made worse mistakes. And yours saved all our asses.”

It’s hard to focus on the bright side when you are the accident that comes with the job.

“I don’t think Fox News would love that statement, Romanoff.”

“That’s why Steve does the interviews. He’s good at keeping the peace,” You finally manage to look at Natasha. Her face and hair are clean now; hair wet, a very large T-shirt that definitely does not belong to her hanging from her shoulders. “and they like him more than they do us anyway.”

“‘Cause they think they own him,” You roll your eyes. “and he’s too good to tell them to fuck off.“

Steve’s pleasant façade is back on the screen, and it makes you feel a little sick.

“Wow, you’re starting to sound like you care about him,”

You glare at her, an incredulous noise coming out of your mouth, and you think you might actually be sick. “I’m gonna go shower.”

“Good.” She laughs, and you don’t bother turning as you make your way to your room. “I won’t tell him, you know?”

“Fuck you!”

Natasha laughs harder.

You come out of your bedroom at least an hour later to a quiet, dim-lit floor. Your feet make little sound as you pad towards the kitchen you share with Wanda and Nat, and you don’t bother turning any more lights on besides the one inside the fridge.

You’re like a raccoon this time of the night, hungry for any kind of trashy snack you could get your hands on; it doesn’t help that you tried to speed up the coming down process of your powers and it made your stomach reject its contents.

With your head inside the refrigerator you almost don’t hear the sound of the elevator doors closing shut, and the heavy steps that followed - almost.

Steve Rogers is back at last.

His shoulders are slumped, hair and uniform still grimy from earlier. His face is the worst of all, with dark circles, droopy eyelids and smeared soot from where he probably rubbed it countless times during the press conference.

Eyebrows scrunched up in surprise, as if he wasn’t expecting to run into you.

“You look like shit,”

He breathes out a tired laugh. You half expect him to say it back to you. He doesn’t. “I know. I just wanted some water before I go fix all of—this,”

It’s something logical, really - you’re the one closest to the fridge, so you pour him a glass. You’re not gonna overthink that.

“The news people were here this whole time?” He hums in response, downing the glass of water like Tony Stark would do with a shot of tequila.

“CBS just left a few minutes ago.”

You’re also not gonna overthink about the way he looks at you when you take the glass from him and fill it up again. He drinks it slower this time.

“They’re pieces of shit.” “They’re part of this job. We do ours, and they do theirs.”

“It’s still bullshit.”He chuckles, shaking his head. “Yeah, I suppose it is.”

For once you’re more focused on your nightly snack - tortilla chips and a queso dip you pulled out from the back of the fridge - than Steve’s presence at your side. You’re waiting for him to just to go upstairs without another word.

“How are you feeling?”

It’s so quiet after you can hear your heartbeat speeding.

You meticulously scoop the still cold queso with a tortilla chip before turning to answer. “Me? I’m fine,” He’s assessing you with his eyes, and you regret not covering up more. You pop the chip into your mouth. “Just hungry.’

“Are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Steve sighs. “I know what you’re doing.”

You scowl.

“Yeah? What am I doing, Rogers?”

“Answering my questions with questions,” He says, running a hand through his dirty hair. “I know you’re using your HYDRA words during missions. During training.”

“So? It’s not like it’s a secret.”

You can tell he’s becoming irritated. Good.

“I know it’s taking a toll on you. Coming down from it, and everything else.” You frown, trying to square up to when he steps closer. “I just— I think you should stop using them.”

“No.”

“Maybe I can talk to Shuri and she can—”

“Really? You want to deprogram me? My powers are already out of control as it is, and you want to remove the one thing that gives me the slightest edge over them?” You nearly snarl, and he closes his eyes.

Neither of you are in the best headspace for this conversation.

You’ve seen the headlines. If that’s what they think of you semi-functional, you wonder what it would be like if you’re not.“Nothing that comes from HYDRA can be for your sake, Bucky is getting be—”“I am not Bucky.” You huff, and you want to throw something at him. And here you thought he was starting to accept you.

“I know. You— are you gonna let me finish?”“No. I’m fine like this—“

“Fine? You’re everything but,” You stare up at him, breaths quickening, waiting to hear him make clear how he thought you weren’t good enough. “You think I don’t know about how frequent your migraines are? About the morphine? The nosebleeds, the nausea, all of it?”

“So what? They’re not as bad with the new suit.”

“And the programming? Reliving that shit, again and again? You can’t convince me you’re tough enough to not let it bother you.”

“I am tough. I am HYDRA scum, am I not? Maybe I’m reminiscing,”Steve scoffs. “You can lie to everyone else. Not to me.”You breathe out through your nose, closing your eyes to fight off your annoyance. You try to remember he took one for the team today, with the press.“It’s fine. I’m finally being useful during missions, just like everyone always wanted—”

“Not at that cost. You don’t need to be useful—”

“Really? Because as far as I know, the only reason I’m still here is to be functional. An asset. This was the deal from the start, do you think anything but that will be enough?”

“It’s enough for me.”

You blink. It feels like the blood has drained from where it had rushed into your head, leaving it empty, your hands clammy. This night has taken such a wild turn you will need at least a couple days to process it fully. Steve and you are standing very close now, so much that your field of vision is nearly entirely filled of him. If you stood on your tiptoes your foreheads would be touching, even if you don’t remember stepping any closer. He looks the way you feel - exhausted.

“Has it ever crossed your mind, Steve, that my failsafe is there for a reason? What if I’m even worse without it?” You say quietly, voicing the fear at last.

“I don’t believe that for a second.” The way he says it makes you want to be a pathological optimistic like him.“Just… think about it, okay?”

It takes you a second, but you nod anyways. He squeezes your arms gently, and you only now notice he’s had his hand cradling your elbows ever since you were within reach.

“What about you?” Your question seems to catch him off-guard, and he tilts his head. “How are you feeling, I mean.”

If you moved your hands just a little, you’d be touching his chest.

“I’m—I’m fine. I’m good.”“Are you sure?”

Steve’s hand is still on your arms, his thumbs caressing your skin like you’re the one that needs comfort. Not that you don’t… but it doesn’t matter either way.

“I do this all the time.” You decide you’ll have to be content with his answer, even if his body language is telling you what his words aren’t. His eyes are soft like you’ve never seen before; at least not directed at you.There’s other things to be concerned about, however: the heat from his hands and the way he looks at you making your knees weak.

He’s so damn close.

“You really need a shower, good lord. You smell like wet dog.”

He lets out a breath. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m going now.” Steve says, letting go of you and stepping back, just a little. “G’night.”

He opens his mouth like he wants to say something else.

“‘Night, Steve.”

You’ll never tell a soul about the urge you just had to smother yourself in his arms, and how your queso and chips were forgotten on the kitchen counter as you scurried back to your room.

[melsimps]

Hey so it is like,,, six in the morning rn and I am having thoughts,,,,

Anyway, what if... Ralph Bohner podcast? Like, yk how DC has those podcasts? Yeah, I'm talking something like that.

And it's like, three 20 minute long episodes of Ralph/Evan Peters bullshitting on the mic and rambling nonsense, plus him trying to hype up his one-man show.

And the jokes? You could do one where he's like, "Okay, so for this episode, I really TRIED to get a special guest, but, uh..."

[Sound bite: him trying to talk to multiple heroes, recorded outside on a shitty dictaphone. He tries to get Dr. Strange, tries to talk with Thor, and various other magic based heroes]

"...no luck"

Also, he talks about his time in the hex, and his experiences. And how to deal with witches (coming with sources like, "according to [xyz] by [author mcauthorson], it is [abc]".

All the while, he says things that maaaaybe don't add up for Ralph. Like, he mixes up birthdays and birth years, but maybe that could be because of his witsec shit. Or, maybe...

"I lived in my Mom's basement until I was 27" "I can beat pacman in, like... seconds" "my dad is a total fucking asshole"

And in the last episode, he says something like, "if I had a nickel for every time some magic redhead fucked with my brain, I'd have two nickels. Wait... two? Yeah... Wanda, and... and..."

And then a glitchy/staticy sound. And then:-

"Peter-?" An unfamiliar voice. "What are you doing in there?"

"Hm? Oh, sorry, Jean, I was just, uh... doesn't matter, not important..."

And then the recording ends.

[kaonarvna]

We've had the frogs for a month or so now——they're doing well, eating well, pooping well. We keep crickets and dubias now, and they eat them both happily, for the most part.

One of the frogs hates the tongs, so I often have to pop on a glove to offer bugs by hand. One of them croaks to recordings of other frogs, and to a song that has pacman "wakawakawaka" sounds in it. That frog has also developed little nuptial pads. We've got at least one boy.

The crickets seem to recognise me. They hide under the egg cartons as soon as I enter the room. They don't do the same for my spouse, who doesn't feed the frogs at the moment. They seem to know that I'm the reason their numbers go down every other day. I try not to feel bad about the fear they show towards me. I am, after all, presenting them straight to the mouths of predators. They know. They're little, but they're not dumb.

[savefrog]

Please Im begging you listen to this god awful licensed pacman song

[likeapriceless-wine]

The Lotus Casino

This is a continuation of the last C.J thing I wrote!! Forgive the uncreative name lol

⚠️ heavy sa, alcohol, and abusive parents tw. I'll put a warning before the sa as well if you want to read up to that point

@cabin-12-resident-daddy-issues @dawn-lovelace @dionysus-god-of-all-things-wine

Las Vegas, 1989

C.J had never been so grateful for pocket money

It'd been two days now since his mother kicked him out onto the streets of Vegas, and he was living on benches and convenience store snacks

His stomach grumbled and he only had a couple bucks left, and dark clouds were starting to cover the sky

Just his luck. He was barely scratching the surface on getting the hang of this whole street rat thing, and it was going to rain

He didn't know if he should call the cops or not. If he did they'd probably take him back to his family, who no doubt all hated him by now

He knew his mother would tell his father and siblings what he'd done. In fact, she'd probably play it up so that they all thought he'd done something far worse than kissing with that boy

And even if he wanted to call the police, he wasn't about to waste his ever diminishing food money on a payphone call

He wandered around, his eyes perpetually puffy from all his crying the past few days

And eventually he saw his salvation, a casino

They let kids in those places, right? It was a building with a roof, and probably food, and if he knew one thing it's that his mother would have his head for ever stepping foot in a casino

That being said, it was perfect

He could hear music blaring as he walked up to the door. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open and was immediately blasted with music so loud he almost took his hearing aids out

'All I know is that to me, you look like you're lots of fun'

'Open up your lovin' arms, watch out here I come'

He stepped inside, letting the door swing closed behind him. People were dancing and drinking, playing video games and having the times of their lives

He saw a woman in what looked like a 1920s flapper dress, dancing her heart out as the radio chanted a near hypnotic chorus of 'you spin me right round baby, right round, like a record baby round round round round'

His mouth was agape as lights flashed and music blared, and a girl a little younger than him ran by, her skirt flowing behind her as she was closely followed by an even younger boy who was yelling "Bianca! Slow down!"

The array of video games caught his eye, and so that's where he went first

By the time he'd beat a few rounds of a pacman game his head felt fuzzy. He moved onto the next game, then the next, and the next after that

He was damn good at this, but he was starting to feel...weird, to say the least. His brain felt foggy, like he was just waking up from a really good nap

He looked over at the pacman game. Had he played that already? Some other kid was working on beating a level on it now, and he wanted to give them a pointer, but for some reason he couldn't remember what he wanted to say

He decided to walk around some more, and hopefully clear his head. He was horribly confused by the time he reached a bar, where he sat down at a barstool

He didn't feel good, and he needed to sit down and shake some sense into himself

"Your name is Cooper, but you like to be called C.J" he whispered to himself, the way he always did when he was convincing himself that a scary dream or some horrible monster he saw out of the corner of his eye wasn't real "You're fourteen years old, and you're safe"

Was he really safe, though?

Just as he was reciting his little affirmations, the bartender handed him a drink

He was so consumed in his thoughts that he didn't even think before chugging it, wincing at the taste

Gods, what had come over him?

But, it didn't stop him from doing it again minutes later, when he'd forgotten that he'd already chugged one

He got up from the stool, stumbling a little as he tried to walk away. He was dizzy as hell, and he hadn't realized how gross his stomach felt until now

Soon, the combination of the lotus and the alcohol took him over, and he couldn't remember why he was here, or what he was doing

He wound up playing the same video games over and over, walking around the casino in giggling fits as everything was funny to him in this state

The effects of the lotus were like nothing he'd ever felt before. He probably wouldn't be able to tell you his own name if you asked him, and he didn't recognize songs on the radio that he'd heard a million times

Days, months, and years were passing outside the casino, but time was a blur to C.J. He had no idea how long he'd been in here, or who he was, or where he was from

It was already the mid 90s the first time he met some odd man

(Author's note!! Please click away now if you don't want to read the sa bit of this story)

He said his name was Hermes, and that he was a god, and C.J thought that was hilarious. C.J was hardly listening to any of the shit this guy was saying, and barely conscious enough to form words of his own, but he knew he didn't really like the way he was being touched

He opened his mouth to protest, but instead his head spun and everything went dark. He woke up in a different part of the casino, propped up at the wall next to the door that lead to the men's bathroom

Suddenly he felt more conscious than he had in years. He looked down and his shorts were unbuttoned, and he felt gross and used, like he was covered in dirty handprints that he couldn't wash away

But then the lotus in the air wore his memories away, and he obliviously smiled as music blared and people laughed and danced

And years passed, and people came and went from the casino

He heard a young boy run by and yell "Bianca!", and it almost sounded familiar

Almost

[alter-soup]

ALSO!!!! It’s the newly formed SAUSAGE here! This is for a FRIEND!!! Can we have a 2D that’s GAY and CANON RELATED???!!! THANK YOU!!!!!!!

Also!!!! It’s the newly formed Sausage here! This is for a friend!!! Can we have a 2D that’s gay and canon related???!!! Thank you!!!!!!!

-Sausage, plain text provided by Sam/Mike🏁.

(https://gorillaz.fandom.com/wiki/2-D).

Name(s) - 2-D/2D, Ren, Apollo, Stuart

Pronouns- he/him

Suggested Neopronouns- now/now, pop/pops, :P/:P, pac/pacman/pacmans, rec/record

Gender(s)- Male

Suggested Xenogenders- SillyMusicGender, Trinketgender, Musicbodiment

Orientation- Gay

Age- 40-46 or ageless

Species- Human

Source- Gorillaz

Role(s)- Emotional Processor, Addiction Holder

Kins- Corgi, Roman goose

Personality traits/details- Caring, kind, cheerful, somewhat naive

Likes- Electronics, comfy clothing, friends, roller skating, sunny weather, traveling, decorating rooms/office spaces, punk/post-punk music, eggs, games

Dislikes- Reckless drivers, being lied to, forgetting to do things

Sign Off- 🪩🛼

Extra details- Always kinda just dresses like he's either going golfing or to a nightclub but the nightclub had children there for some reason… - can get tired easily but will still try his best to help out

Faceclaim-

[drstonetrivia]

Chapter 213 Trivia (Part 1)

I guess things were going too well for too long..?

Gen's drawing of Senku here was probably inspired by very early chapter cover images. I don't know why else he'd be holding an exploding container.

We've now got three interpretations of Whyman: the generic one, Luna's, and now Gen's.

I like how Gen's has arms and legs coming out of the skull!

Finally! The Kingdom of Science can watch Dr. Stone together!

As long as someone animates it…

Kenjiro Takayanagi of Shizuoka University is considered one of the main pioneers of television, succeeding in displaying the character イ (i) on his Braun tube display in Dec 1926. Over the next few years, he improved the image allowing more detailed images such as human faces.

By 1939, Japan's first television station began broadcasting from NHK (Japan Broadcasting Corporation). After the war, Takayanagi Sensei's work was used as a foundation for other televisions and related industries around the world.

If everyone thought working on a second cell phone after they'd spent months making one was bad, they're not ready to hear about what they'll need to make for television broadcasts. (Senku also never changes...)

I didn't realize how big their other boat was. I guess things made in the USA really are bigger?

The Perseus not being the biggest ship anymore makes me a little sad :(

SAL 9000 is a reference to HAL 9000, the AI antagonist from Space Odyssey. It stands for "Heuristically programmed ALgorithmic computer", so in this case it might be "Senku programmed" or even "Sai programmed"!

The "NES" (actually the Famicom again, both in the drawing and Sai's comment in the Japanese version) and SAL 9000 don't have the exact same specifications:

SAL 9000 is specialized for math operations and thus has a longer word length (16 bits vs 8) which allows more significant figures in the numbers. They've also got more RAM (SAL has 16 kB while the NES has 2).

The downside is that because they used parametrons, their clock speed (how fast they can do calculations) is slower than if they'd used transistors.

The large amount of ROM they've also got could imply that they have several built-in programs. Xeno's work, perhaps?

CRT screens only reach a maximum diagonal length of around 40 inches (~101 cm), as a larger screen needs a larger tube, and the thickness of the glass increases with size to handle the vacuum without shattering making it very unwieldy with the added weight and thus not worth manufacturing for sale.

Senku's here is obviously much, much bigger. Possibly even world record; the biggest CRT screens made were 61 inches (~152 cm) on the diagonal.

SAL 9000 has both air and water cooling, probably used depending on what's better for individual parts. Normally you only need one or the other.

It'd be good if they could get the carbonated water maker in there and ferment some alcohol faster too using the computer's heat…

SAL 9000 also has 3 phase power like modern power transmission. They're AC power sources, phase shifted by 120° so that at any point in time, their sum is 0. The advantage to this is that you don't need return lines for the current, so you can use half as many cables.

The games shown are inspired by Tetris (featuring Ishigami Village and Roppongi!), Pacman, a combination game of Gyruss and Tempest, then another combination game of Galaga and Asteroids.

The transmission towers can only be headed towards the dam, so we have an approximate direction for where that is! There's a few rivers nearby in modern Tokyo, but over 3,700 years they've probably changed a lot.

(Next part)

[etes-secrecy-post]

Hi, before I explain my post, I want to say something important.

• What you see my blog has become a major overhaul. And despite the changes, I decided that my 2nd account will be now my artwork blog with a secret twist.

⚠️NEW RULE! (W/ BIGGER TEXT!)⚠️

⚠️ SO PLEASE DO NOT SHARE MY 2nd ACCOUNT TO EVERYONE! THIS SECRECY BLOG OF MINE IS FOR CLOSES FRIENDS ONLY!⚠️

• AND FOR MY CLOSES FRIENDS, DON’T REBLOG IT. INSTEAD, JUST COPY MY LINK AND PASTE IT ON YOUR TUMBLR POST! JUST BE SURE THE IMAGE WILL BE REMOVED AND THE ONLY LEFT WAS THE TEXT.

⚠️ SHARING LINKS, LIKE POSTS, REBLOG POSTS, STEALING MY SNAPSHOT PHOTOS/RECORDED VIDEOS/ARTWORKS (a.k.a. ART THIEVES) OR PLAGIARIZING FROM UNKNOWN TUMBLR STRANGERS WILL IMMEDIATELY BE BLOCKED, RIGHT AWAY!⚠️

😡 WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT EVER LIKED & REBLOG MY SECRET POST! THIS IS FOR MY SECRET FRIENDS ONLY, NOT YOU! 😡

Okay? Capiche? Make sense? Good, now back to the post…↓

#OnThisDay: Nov 24th, 2014

Title: CHEERING FOR PACQUIAO

Well, another 'Pacquiao' related artwork by ME. 🙂🥊🎨🖼️ As I said before, I used to be a "Pacquiao supporter", in my early years of childhood until January 2019, which is my last said related artwork.

• So, for this November throwback installment, MuruKir and the Speedster Twins (Spot 🐶🏎️ & Riya 🐰🏎️) cheering at Manny Pacquiao 🇵🇭🥊faces Algieri Hungry 🇺🇸🇦🇷🥊 for the WBO World Welterweight title. The so called "PacMan" (which is his nickname, and not to be confused with the yellow hungry video game icon, "Pac-Man") lands Algieri 6-times, until the referee declares K.O. and Pacquiao successfully defended his WBO title. Yeah, what a moment for the former Filipino boxer unlike his previous opponent, which you should check it out. 👇🙂

Previous: • SAD by Pacquiao's LOSE (Jun 11th, 2012)

MuruKir (Kirby OC), and the Speedster Twins (Spot & Riya) - created by ME!

[idril-la-wiccan]

Tagged by @toastypastry.

I think the silliest headcanon I've ever had (or at least that I can think of from the top of my head) is about Pacman and the Ghostly Adventures.

I headcanon that Zac (Pacster's father) can play the recorder like The Legend™.

I'll attempt to tag :

@hajacrmainblog What's your favorite fandom inside joke ?

@grey-spark What headcanon do you have that you love the most ?

[spyeriasecret]

9???

tell a story about my childhood. hmmmmm. HAVE I TOLD THE POOL OF WORMS HERE???? I DONT THINK I HAVE

okay this is the story of my first EVER recorded dream and i remember it vividly. i had a dream journal because of sharkboy and lavagirl at like four or five

so in my state capital there is a mall. which is more like a civic center. and i went often enough to memorize the layout. in my dream i was there. and there was a giant pit in the floor. in my dream journal, and i shit you not, i called it the Pool of Worms

in the Pool of Worms, there were just a few colored worms at the bottom that squiggled around. i was looking at this from the escalator high above and mom said “dont go down there”. i took this opportunity to jump

and according to what i drew, i landed in what i can best describe as the family guy death pose. and all the worms wriggled up to me and i died like pacman does when he gets hit by the ghosts. later my mom went to the local grocery store and bought a cardboard cutout of me because she was so sad. the end. thank you for your quesiion!

[brutish-impulse]

Sega Genesis Game Pads and the Mode Button

I had a Sega Mega Drive (aka Genesis) as a kid, and also a 6-button game pad. Actually still have, but I haven't used them in forever.

The 6-button controller has shoulder-button labeled "MODE" and I only learned what it's for recently. When you hold it down while starting the console, it will disable the extra buttons and act like an old 3-button controller. Ok, that's pretty boring. The interesting part is why I didn't need to know that.

3-Button Controller

Basically, the 6-button pad Just Works because the 3-button pad already had one button too many. The controller uses a connector with 9 pins. One pin each for power and ground leaves you with 7, but it has 8 inputs: UP, DOWN, LEFT, RIGHT, A, B, C, START.

To solve this, the controller contains a multiplexer. By setting the voltage on one of the pins, the console can select which inputs it wants the controller to report.

When voltage on the select pin is LOW, the controller indicates that it is present (so you can distinguish "no controller connected" from "no buttons pressed") and reports the state of the inputs UP, DOWN, A, START.

When voltage on the select pin is HIGH, the controller reports UP, DOWN (again), LEFT, RIGHT, B, C.

This makes it backwards-compatible with Sega's earlier console Master System, with B and C corresponding to buttons 1 and 2 on the MS controller, and A and START doing nothing.

The way a 3-button game normally interacts with the controller is that for each frame, the game briefly sets the select pin LOW, records the inputs, then sets it back to HIGH and records the rest. These are then the inputs for that frame. This is also called a pulse.

6-Button Controller

Instead of a multiplexer, the 6-button controller has a microcontroller that counts the number of pulses received. For the first two pulses, it behaves like a 3-button controller. Also, the counter resets after not receiving a pulse for 1.5 ms. That way, a 3-button game running at 60 fps that reads the controller once per frame will only see the behavior that it expects. Unfortunately, a small number of 3-button games don't behave this way (Ms Pacman for example), so that's why the MODE button is needed.

A 6-button-aware game interacts with the controller by rapidly pulsing it three times every frame. When the select pin is set LOW for the third time, a 6-button controller will indicate that it is in fact a 6-button controller. If a game isn't 6-button-aware and somehow gets the controller in this state, this looks as if you're pressing UP and DOWN simultaneously, so that's where the problems start.

When the pin is set to HIGH again, the controller reports the X, Y, Z and MODE inputs. So you can also use the MODE button as a normal game button. Only a handful of games do this though, and some of them only for cheat codes. (I actually happen to own one of them: Vectorman)

I just thought this is very hacky and also really cool! I wonder if I could manage to read out my old controllers with an Arduino or something!

Sources

"Sega Six Button Controller Hardware Info" by Charles Rosenberg

"How To Read Sega Controllers" by Jon Thyssel

Sega Retro page