#patch vw

[joelswritingmistress]

Camp Crystal Lake: Chapter 1

Requested by @yellowjacketsbuzzbuzz

Joel Miller x f!reader (romance/horror)

Setting: Camp Crystal Lake

The reader is taking on the position of a camp counselor at the infamous Camp Crystal Lake. While she begins to enjoy her summer, even crushing on the camp director Joel, a killer lurks in the woods unbeknownst to anyone. 

Every town in North America has a ghost story. Some are well kept secrets, and others are so notorious that the sins of those tales have spread far and wide, to every dark corner of the earth. Crystal Lake was a sterling example of such a place. It had a typical sounding name, really, for a fresh body of water in the middle of the New England woods. But the stories surrounding the area were anything but typical.

As a young child, I remember hearing his name being said on the playgrounds at school. Jason. It didn’t take me long to insert myself into conversations in an attempt to hear the details of whatever version of the story the older kids were spreading. Back then it didn’t matter if they were fact or fiction. I stayed up late, wide eyed staring at every dark corner of my bedroom after hearing tales of Jason Voorhees. Now, at 22 years old and about to enter the summer as a counselor at Camp Crystal Lake, those distant, childish memories made me grin; though when my rusty, Jeep Wrangler bounced down the uneven road past the wooden Camp Crystal Lake sign, the hairs rose just a bit on the back of my neck.

“I thought you outgrew superstition,” I said quietly to myself as a song ended on my playlist, leaving me in a few extra seconds of silence to take in the wooded surroundings.

Jason Voorhees. The name still creeped everyone out. Yes, there had been a tragedy that happened decades earlier. Jason Voorhees was real; but after several attacks on counselors and residents alike, a boy named Tommy Jarvis managed to put Jason to rest permanently.

I shuddered and reminded myself that that was decades ago. I wasn’t even alive when it all happened. And this new camp wasn’t anywhere near the original location of the attacks on that Friday the 13th back in the 80’s.

I saw a pale yellow VW Bug parked up ahead next to a blue Ford pickup truck. On the opposite side of the truck was a Bronco with about as much rust as my Jeep. I began to wonder what my coworkers would be like. Would they be my age? Younger? Older? Local? I was about to find out.

I parked in the clearing beside the VW and stared out at the lake a few hundred yards away. There was a small beach with a towering, white lifeguard stand in the center and a wooden raft floating too not far from the patch of sand. If nothing else, it would be a great summer gig with a view. The campers wouldn’t be here for several weeks and I knew getting the place ready would call for some physical labor. I never minded hands-on work, and I was sure it would give us all time to bond.

When I exited the vehicle, a breeze hit me from the water and I shuddered, despite the temperatures nearing eighty degrees on the late June afternoon. My eyes scanned the trees on all sides and I suddenly wondered where everyone was. I let farfetched ‘what-ifs’ filter through my mind for a second before smirking to myself.

Grow up, I scolded myself lightheartedly. The imaginative part of me still enjoyed the folklore, no matter how juvenile it felt.

I popped open the back of the Jeep and reached in to grab my suitcase, an oversized gym bag and a backpack that housed the majority of my clothes. I had a few stray boxes with makeup and hair products, among other toiletries, though I decided I’d come back for them later.

Again, I took in my surroundings. For some reason I half-expected to see a group of young people out-and-about in the immediate area upon arrival. The silence was beginning to hit my psyche harder than I’d like to admit, and so I stared up at an oversized cabin with wooden paneling and headed in that direction.

A hammock swung empty on a giant front porch that was littered with chairs and small tables in between. Above them hung metal lighting fixtures, some of which were swinging in the summer breeze.

And then I heard a sound I could only compare to clicking. It was like a clock, almost. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

I set my suitcase down near the bottom step and shrugged the gym bag off my shoulder so it rested beside it, leaving my backpack on. And then I followed the sound.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

What is that?

I swallowed hard as the noise grew louder. It stopped for a second and then there was a louder noise. A faint bang. And then a pause. Another bang.

What the hell is that?

I rounded the side of the two-story cabin and peeked my head around to see if I could get a glimpse of whatever, or whoever, was responsible for the sound. Visions of Jason Voorhees and his menacing hockey mask left my mind immediately when the truth revealed itself.

A muscular man in a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows swung an ax, connecting with a giant log of wood. It split into two, sending little shards flying into the air. He wiped his forehead with his arm and then reached for another.

I wasn’t sure if I should tiptoe back to the front porch or interrupt him, but my mind was made up by default when he slowly turned in my direction. When he smiled beneath a mustache, I blushed and glanced at the open area of his chest where a few buttons were undone.

“Hello.” He gave a wave and wiped sweat off his forehead again before removing a pair of work gloves.

I raised my hand and swallowed hard. “Hi.”

The man approached and extended an arm in my direction. I stared down at his hand for a second before joining mine to his in a handshake. Our eyes met and I felt my eyebrows raise unwillingly.

“I’m Joel Miller,” he introduced himself, slightly out of breath. “I did the phone interview with you back in March and a second one in April. (Y/N), right?”

“Yeah.” I nodded and cleared my throat with a smile.

“I’m the camp director,” he informed me with a nod.

“Nice to meet you.” My hand was still in his and finally they parted.

Joel nodded in agreement. “I’m just finishing up here. I think we have one more person to arrive today before the rest come in the middle of the week. You can get yourself settled in whatever room is still available and I’ll be in in a few minutes.”

“Okay.” I nodded, “Thank you.”

“Thank you.”

When he smiled again I might as well have turned to stone. Who knew my boss for the summer would be such a.. hunk.

Well shit. It’s thirty seconds into the summer and I’m already crushing on my boss. I added, what a lovely predicament.

CLICK HERE FOR CHAPTER

@cattt777 @gissellec1

[marypsue]

Meet Ben

Girls, Ghosts, and Meathooks // Meet Riley

There was no ki ki ki, ma ma ma. That was the second thing Ben realised. No tempo-twisting piano line. No children’s voices raised in a creepy nursery rhyme. No violin strings shrieking, no synth echoing. No distinctive music at all.

It felt kind of like a rip-off.

He didn’t hurt anymore. That had been the first thing he’d realised. His face, his gut – the blinding, burning pain was gone. Ben couldn’t feel the injuries he’d been so sure would kill him, anymore.

He couldn’t feel much of anything, anymore.

The rain sheeting down through the trees all around didn’t chill him. He was barely aware of the drops battering his shoulders, soaking through his cutoff jean vest and favourite tee shirt – the one with the skull with a dagger through its eye sockets and a snake twisting around both lovingly hand-painted on the front – and plastering his carefully-teased tangle of bleached curls to his face and neck. The moaning wind seemed to blow right through him, without leaving any trace of its passing.

What he did feel, more strongly than anything physical, was almost a compulsion to start walking.

His feet didn’t start to hurt, as he trodded steadily and seemingly endlessly through the pitch-black woods, the lashing rain. His legs didn’t get tired. Every step felt as inevitable, as mechanical as the last. The woods and the rain didn’t grow any lighter, but he never had any doubts about where he was going. And the farther he went, the more he recognised the patch of forest he was trudging through. The more certain he was of his destination.

When the leak of light around the ill-fitted old wooden garage door gleamed yellowly between the trees, it only confirmed what he already knew.

The girl spooked when he stepped through the side door of the old garage, whirling to look directly at him. But there was something about the way she stared at the open door, banging in the wind, that told Ben she wasn’t seeing him even before she let out a nervous laugh. “Shit. Must’ve blown open.”

The boy left her side, hurrying past Ben to pull the side door shut on the wild night outside. He gave the handle two good tugs, the swollen wood shrieking against the frame as it jerked into place. Then he turned back toward the girl, a leering smile crossing his clean-cut, handsome face. “There. Now we won’t have any more interruptions.”

The girl returned his smile with a knowing one of her own, leaning back against the big rectangular shape standing under the canvas tarp in the middle of the garage, fingers brushing long, sleek brown hair back from the revealing neckline of the pretty sundress she wore. “Promise?”

The boy chuckled, a little, like he couldn’t believe his luck. “Not unless you want them to.”

The girl screwed up her face at him in a teasing frown, and then turned to pull the tarp down and reveal –

In the low yellow light of the single bulb dangling by its chain from the ceiling, Ben’s beloved 1966 VW van-turned-camper gleamed dustily. The skirls of airbrushed flame pouring from the open maw of the red dragon curled along its side door seemed to actually glow.

“Oh, my god,” the girl laughed, and the boy smacked the flat of one hand against her shoulder.

There was a too-familiar mocking note in his voice as he told her, “You just don’t appreciate fine art.”

“Hey,” Ben said, or tried to say. There was something strange about the word, a strange way it stuck in his throat, a thickness, a blurriness, in the way the sound fell on the air.

Both the girl and the boy ignored him like he wasn’t there.

“I appreciate a warm, dry place where neither of our parents are going to walk in,” the girl said, tugging on the handle of the sliding side door.

“How much you wanna bet this baby comes fully equipped with a mattress in the back?”

“I am not lying down naked on a mattress that mice have been colonising for the last thirty years.”

“Hey,” Ben tried again, even though it was strangely more difficult this time. “That’s mine.”

“Don’t try smoking anything you find back there, either,” the girl scolded, even as one of the boy’s hands found her waist, the other tugging up the hem of her skirt to reveal a smooth, tan expanse of thigh. “It’ll have lost its potency. If you’re lucky.”

“Like whatever loser drove this even smoked decent weed,” the boy said, dismissively, leaning down to kiss the girl’s neck.

A flash of the old familiar anger flared in Ben’s chest at the old familiar insult. The long gash that had slashed his stomach, the broken hinges of his jaw, pulsed with a sudden, blinding agony, swift enough to nearly knock him to his knees.

“ ‘Whatever loser’? You seriously don’t know the story?”

“The story? What is this, the first five minutes of a horror movie?”

The girl spun to face the boy, letting him pin her up against the side of Ben’s van. “This garage is on what used to be old Grover Adams’ land. They say this was Ben Adams’ van.”

“Yeah,” Ben said. “It is.”

Something was wrong. Beyond the way his words were coming out like he was trying to scream through Jell-o. Beyond the way the girl and the boy were still ignoring him like he wasn’t there. Beyond the way what he’d sworn were killing injuries, shattering his body, seemed to have vanished, leaving no trace of themselves or the blood that had ruined his favourite shirt, soaked the acid-wash of his jeans, splattered the dirty white of his beat-up Chuck Taylors. Beyond the way he could have sworn he’d been soaked to the skin from the rain still hammering the garage’s uninsulated wooden walls a minute ago, but now, looking down at himself, he was dry. Beyond the way that everything seemed to be on the other side of a thick sheet of plastic, keeping him from touching anything, feeling anything.

Why was his van so dusty? What had the girl been talking about, mice have been colonising for the last thirty years?

Where were his grandfather’s tools?

Whose things were these, the lawn forks and rakes and mower and snow shovels and sledgehammer and axe leaning up against the walls? What was that thing, with its bulky head of orange plastic and long arm ending in a black semicircle like a sheath? Who were these kids, who he’d never seen walking Holmwood High’s hallowed halls? Why were they here?

What did that girl mean, the story?

But it all suddenly seemed vague and unimportant when the boy looked uneasily up at the dark window of Ben’s van and asked, “Ben Adams? The Silent Killer?”

And when the girl nodded yes.

The wall of rage, the answering stabs of pain, rose through Ben like a tidal wave, washing him away. A part of him was dizzily amazed at how quickly, how thoroughly, it took him over, burned through the curious mechanical numbness that had driven him here, steadily through the woods, without feeling the cold or fatigue or what must remain of his injuries. Amazed, and a little afraid.

But mostly. Mostly, he was just furious.

It had been going on for as long as he could remember. As long as he and his family had lived in Holmwood. It had started before he’d been old enough to understand why, the other kids on the playground shunning him with hostile looks or taunting him with their parents’ judgments. Disgraceful trailer trash Cora Adams and her loser boyfriend’s bastard son had never been popular in Holmwood’s more rarefied circles, even before she’d run off with that vacuum cleaner salesman and the loser boyfriend had skipped town not ten days later, dumping the kid on Cora’s father.

Not that it was Ben’s parents’ fault alone that nobody liked him. Oh, no, the other kids had always made that abundantly clear. It was just their parents who hated him for who and what his mother and father were. Their wretched offspring hated him for much more important reasons, like how he dressed weird and out of date, or read too many comic books, or the wrong kind of comic books, or too many books, or the wrong kind of books, or looked at girls, or didn’t look at girls, or didn’t kill worms on the sidewalk after a rain, or did kill ants with a magnifying glass, or did, or said, or didn’t say, or didn’t do…

Oh, Ben had eventually found his own friends, outcasts and rejects just like himself, but it had been a hard-won victory. And nobody – especially not the well-dressed, well-heeled country club set like these two currently necking up against his van – had ever deigned to give him the chance to forget it.

And all of them – the kids and their parents both – all of them had just loved having him around to blame for all of their problems. They’d decided he was a delinquent, a bad seed, a loser before he’d ever had a chance to prove otherwise. They’d made up their minds about him, in the total absence of any evidence, and nothing he’d said or done had ever, ever convinced anyone of the truth. Sex, violence, drugs, rock and roll music in their good, Christian, God-fearing, Reagan-voting community? Must be that Adams brat. God knew he’d been behind every corrupt and corrupting thing that’d come into their community since before he was even born. God knew that he was the source of every evil, the font from which all bad things flow. Ben was pretty sure that some of the old bitches who ran the Sunday school were genuinely convinced he was the actual, literal Antichrist.

So maybe he’d played into it, a little. Maybe he’d taken whatever he could get, and delighted in pissing them all off with spooky clothes and loud music and – gasp – tabletop games. Maybe he’d flaunted his corrupting influence on their precious, not-really-so-innocent youth.

But. That they’d really gone so far – that they really thought he could – that they’d actually decided he could have done all of those awful, awful things to poor Leigh? To Grant, to one of his own best friends –

Even after Ben had died trying to protect people from the actual killer –

They’d decided it was him.

The spring he’d been thirteen, Ben had snuck into the theatre with a couple of other boys to watch Friday the 13th. Afterward, the others hadn’t been able to shut up about the split-second glimpse of Jeannine Taylor’s bare breasts. But for Ben, the movie had been a revelation in more ways than just the hormonal.

He felt, now, strangely like he had when the camera had put him behind Mrs. Voorhees’ eyes. Watching the camp counselors she planned to slaughter going innocently about their lives, kissing and laughing and joking around with each other without the faintest idea of the doom that dogged their every step, growing ever closer. In the theatre, part of him had wanted to call out to those kids, to warn them. But they weren’t real. They were there on the screen, a world away from him, unable to hear even if he screamed at the top of his lungs. And he was here, trapped behind the killer’s eyes, grateful it was impossible to warn the kids because he was half-sick with anticipation to see what horrible thing might happen to them next. Unable to change a thing that happened, to choose what ‘he’ did, to stop the hand that he saw as if it was his own from raising the hunting knife –

It wasn’t a hunting knife, this time, though.

And, unlike in the theatre, unlike out in the woods, Ben could feel the satiny varnish under his fingers as his hand closed over the contoured handle of the axe.

They’d all decided for him that he was a Satan-worshipping, drug-dealing, delinquent sex fiend destined for an early grave. And now they’d decided he was a killer.

Well. Fine.

He’d be the best damned killer Holmwood, Indiana had ever seen.

The girl gave a little shriek, pushing the boy off of her so she could leap away from the van when its engine suddenly roared to life. Its headlights blared on, casting Ben’s shadow, sharp and black and looming, across the garage door behind him. He couldn’t see it, standing facing the girl and the boy she was now clinging to in frozen terror, but he knew it was there.

Just like he knew the axe’s silhouette was rising in the shadow behind him as he hoisted it in both hands.

The stereo in the van burst to life, a screech of static resolving into the heavy, plodding, ominous guitar of Sabbath’s ‘Iron Man’. The only thought that managed to make it through the red fog filling Ben’s thoughts, as the boy pulled the girl back away from Ben and the girl opened her mouth to scream, was that there, at last, finally, was the music.

There was a shriek.

It took the sudden lash of rain against his back and the howl of wind tearing at his hair for Ben to realise it hadn’t come from the girl, but from the rusty sliding mechanism of the big garage door behind him.

He turned, slowly, the axe still raised.

And stopped, the rage draining out of him and swirling away into the puddle of rainwater now growing on the cracked concrete at his feet.

The girl standing framed in the movie-screen rectangle of the garage door, finely haloed by the way the headlights’ glow caught the splash of raindrops striking off her cornrowed hair and sweatshirt-clad shoulders, couldn’t have been more than sixteen. Her dark eyes flicked up to the axe Ben was still holding up, now starting to feel a little foolish, but she didn’t shrink back the way the other girl had. Instead, her eyes darted past Ben’s shoulder toward where the other girl and the boy must still be standing, and she jabbed her chin in a direction that Ben thought was toward the side door. A second later, he could hear the slap of shoes against concrete and the squeal of swollen wood against wood. They were forcing the side door open.

His hands squeezed, reflexively, against the handle of the axe.

That strange almost-compulsion, the sense that he should be following the kids even now bursting out through the side door and into the wild night, lodged restlessly between his lungs. But this time, Ben stood his ground. The feeling faded as he lowered the axe, staring at the thing the girl framed in the garage door was holding.

She took a step forward, into the shelter of the garage’s roof, as he let the axe slip between his fingers and clatter to the floor. As he reached out, instead, for his axe.

The van’s stereo hissed into static silence as the girl handed the guitar over to Ben, who took it almost reverently. Unlike his tee shirt, unlike his own body, it still showed all the scars of the battle they’d been through together. The neck was cracked almost to the headstock and snapped right in two near the body, hanging limply and pathetically by the two unbroken strings. The sleek black varnish of the body, as solid and satin-smooth under his fingers as the axe handle had been, was gouged right down to the pale wood beneath where it had briefly stopped the knife that had ended Grant’s life – and ultimately Ben’s, too. Holding it, as the girl stepped back and left it in his hands, Ben felt a tremor pass through him, like he’d always imagined an earthquake must feel.

The van’s headlights died, behind him, its engine sputtering out into silence.

“It is yours, right?” the girl in front of him said, her big, almost almond-shaped eyes fixed on his face. Studying him. Seeing him. “Ben?”

Ben turned his eyes back down to the pathetic corpse of his beloved Stratocaster.

The nod came slow and heavy. But it felt, for the first time since he’d realised he was awake in the woods and didn’t hurt anymore, like something he’d chosen to do.

“Hi, Ben,” the girl said, softly. Ben could still feel her eyes on his face. “I’m Riley.”

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

okay hear me out tho i'm gonna tell u this is sad and why

your bond with someone goes deeper than family? family is, unless something is really wrong between family members, supposed to be one of the instinctually strongest bonds humans have (like why mama bears are a thing lol - even to their unborn children! by default, they love their child even if said child isn't even out of the womb yet! also why toxic family relationships are so complicated, because "it's still my [family member]"). like, by default, there's a bond (usually between immediate family members, i.e. extended family is not necessarily by default depending on interaction and frequency of interacting).

that can change, but things have to happen for it to change. there have to be actions involved to put a strain on that relationship. someone has to do something to lessen the bond or to sever it entirely (i.e. if someone has a bad relationship with their family, it's almost always due to issues that popped up throughout their lives).

from what we know about claude's family, uhhhh... you know, yeah, i'd say his relationship to his entire family is pretty shitty. aside from having siblings who were making active assassination attempts on him when he was a child, his parents sure as shit didn't care enough to make him feel loved or to even bother really trying to protect him. they basically left him to fend for himself when he was "old enough" because he needed to know how to watch his own back, yadda yadda... but for a child they don't need to be learning how to survive that shit alone.

if he was nearly killed, his parents should have hugged him and cried out of fear and worry, but he was left to patch himself up and get back up. children shouldn't have to go through that (unless it's a special circumstance like their parents are dead/captive/missing/etc). claude thinks his bond with someone he just met basically a year ago is more important than family he's known his entire life.

also, just saying "now that we know each other" isn't a very high standard. you can know someone and still not truly be connected, but he's been so starved for bonds his entire life that just generally knowing a person feels more meaningful to him. that's not to discount the bond he's feeling, but that the way he phrases it makes it comes across as this is the best he's ever had. mind you, at this point byleth has mainly just been a teacher to him. there wasn't all that much bonding - especially where claude was concerned, because he didn't really open up to byleth for most of that year.

generally speaking i do dislike the way byleth is propped up so damn hard in vw at claude's constant expense, and i think this may have been one example among many, but i do also think it's a case of byleth just generally treating him better than what he's known. even when he came to fodlan, he wasn't trusted among the nobility and was still kind of on his own. he used byleth, disregarded byleth's feelings, and wasn't open about himself in any way with byleth for the majority of the year.

like, that's all it takes for his heart to be connected to someone? knowing someone for a year or so who doesn't want to kill him and is generally kind to him?

i know claude's upbringing as per his relationship with his parents (affection wise) wasn't as god awful as shinon fire emblem "my mother never hugged me" my love, but they definitely went well beyond "tough love" and it shows. :'(

a bond with someone can certainly be more than family, but most times if someone is on good terms with family, they would treat those relationships equally, i.e. not putting the friendship ahead of the family. that kind of things means someone has reason to not see them equally and that the family has done something (or they have done something, but in claude's case it's the family who did something) to make them feel trust toward someone else more.

the fact that claude's parents not only didn't give him enough love but actively did things to him (or supported it by not stopping it - yeah looking at you Tiana) probably really did put cracks in his trust and feelings with his family. like, with the information we have about his parents, i don't even know if they'd be sad if he was killed.

would they feel insulted that someone took the life of royalty? probably, yeah... but i don't know that they'd feel all that sad about it, regardless of what uwu three hopes wants us to think about claude being the favorite child, because if he is then that means the king is absolute trash to all his children. if that's how he treats his favorite child? like forget it, no wonder shahid grew up to be a pile of stinky horse dung.

posting this in 2023. still angry claude hasn't been properly hugged. vicious and feral that little baby boy claude was suffering and not getting hugs and snuggies and crawling around in blankets.

ima be honest with you, i don't really even remember his grandfather doing much of anything for him/with him/showing particular care and/or love toward him and his grandfather was still better to him than anyone else in his entire blood family.

[pan-fried-autism]

Lab Accident - Chapter 2

Characters: Swap!Leonid (@bowlerhatwearer), Mothgo (@sallychaosaura), The Swap Harris Family

Summary: Leonid starts properly investigating Ms. Mewtons dissappearance.

TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: smoking, implied child death

14 was the number displayed on the house.

Leonid, in his running Prius, stared out at the house before nodding sagely to himself.

14 [STREET NAME], he thought. This is the place.

He put the car into park and exited through the driver side door. He walked up to the house, taking in the scenery.

The house was a one story, and kind of small. The siding was painted a dark olive green, and the lawn seemed to be freshly mowed. Not completely mowed, though— there were still patches of over grown grass strewn throughout.

In the driveway was a grey VW Beetle. There was a dent by the front bumper, two strange dents on the top of the car above the driver side door, a small crack on the left rear view window, and— a little worryingly— a row of claw marks on the hood.

He walked up the small pathway connecting the front door to the driveway, passing by a large window. He took a look in, seeing counters, a sink, some dirty dishes, and a small view of a stove top— definitely the kitchen. Further into the house, he could see a table with four chairs.

Approaching the front door, Leonid noticed the small window it had. He couldn’t see through, though. Too dusty.

Finally, he knocked.

A voice rang from inside the house. “One moment!”

The voice was… a little odd sounding. He couldn’t put his finger on why.

Somewhat loud footsteps echoed up to the door, where it swung open…

… and a sight to behold stood staring down at him.

A very tall robot, at LEAST 7 feet, was cramped down in the doorway. The head was like a TV, only orange, and there were two things on the sides of her head with heart designs on them. She has antenna, too. Moths eyes were heterochromatic, one being orange and the other blue.

Mang was wearing a purple sweater, a dark purple skirt, and darker purple pants. She also had… wings? on her back? They were strange— they didn’t look metallic at all. They looked real.

One thing Leonid knew was real, though, was the tired expression on the robots face.

Leonid knew he was staring, gawking even, but... what else was he supposed to do? He'd never seen someone such as her before.

He managed to collect himself, though, and stood firmly before speaking.

"Good morning."

The robot stared at him, suspicion breaking through her tired haze.

"Good morning. Who are you?" moth replied.

Nikolai reached into his pocket and brought out his badge. "Leonid Aksakov, private investigator. I'd like to ask you some questions."

The tired expression turned into a sad one.

"... This is about Gremmy, isn't it?"

"Yes, if you're referring to Grementine Mewton."

"I am. I thought the police investigation already ended?"

"Well, an anonymous client claiming to be her friend has hired me."

Mothgo got a thoughtful expression on her face. She shook it off after a second and stepped to the side. "Come in."

And so he did.

The walls of the living room and dining room were a light blue in colour. Facing Leonid was a hallway, and on the left side of its entryway was a bookcase. To the left of that bookcase, against a different wall, was a faded yellow armchair with its own end table and lamp. Looking further to the other wall, he saw what he guessed was the heart of the living room-- a TV on a long stand, a coffee table, and an off white couch. All on a diagonal angle, for whatever reason. There was a small wooden cabinet on the ground, too.

Looking to his right, he saw the dining room table again. It was a bit small, only able to have four chairs.

One chair seemed pretty dusty.

The house, though nice, had a strange feeling about it. Like something was deeply wrong, and it couldn't comprehend what it was.

Mothgo sat down on the couch, and Leonid followed suit. He produced a small notepad and pencil from one of the pockets of his jacket.

"Before we begin, Miss, I understand there's another robot that lives here, too." he spoke.

"Yeah, M0u5e. She's over with the lady who rescued her all those months ago." she replied.

Leonid wrote that down.

"Okay, Ms... Mothgo. I have a few questions for you regarding Ms. Mewtons disappearance. I imagine you may have heard some of them before."

Mothgo shifted a bit in spot.

"... Maybe. But I'll answer your questions."

Leo nodded, and flipped a few pages back. He cleared his throat before he began.

"What was Ms. Mewton like?"

Mothgo looked down at her hands, a pained smile forming on mangs face.

"Gremmy is... She can be cold at first, but she can be really nice once she warms up! She's very kind and sweet! She took me in when I needed help."

Leonid wrote as she spoke. He began again.

"What is your relationship to, or with her?"

"She's my best friend! I care for her very much! I..." her hands shook a little. "I've been trying to fly around to look for her, but I also have to care for M0u5e and the house, and the job I took up when she di-disappeared... It-It's so much to do at once, and I'm just one person..."

"What job did you take up?" he asked, giving her a sympathetic look.

"It's at the- the pet store she worked at. I'm the mascot and security guard."

"Mm hmm."

He wrote this down as well.

"When did you see her last?"

"I last saw Grem on November 16, 2027 at noon. That's when she and M0u5e left."

Scribble scribble scribble.

"Did you know of her weekend plans?"

"Yes! She and M0u5e were going to the northern region to see her friend Nikolai.--" (A sudden cold feeling went through Leonids veins.) "I wanted to come, but couldn't because my wings don't do well with the cold. I... I wish I had just toughed it out. Maybe if I did (sniff)... she would still be here..."

Despite the horrible feeling Leonid had, he still reached over and gently patted Mothgo on the shoulder.

"None of this is your fault, Ms. Mothgo. Nobody would have expected her to go missing."

A tear fell from moths eye... screen eye thing, which she wiped away.

"Thank- thank you." she wavered out.

Leonid returned to writing.

"Now, finally; Do you know anybody who may wish ill on her?"

Mothgos demeanor changed in an instant. The sad expression upon mangs face/screen changed to one of contempt and anger.

"Yeah. A few people. One in particular." she spat out.

"His name is Jackson Harris, he's Grem's ex-boyfriend. He's fucking disgusting. He bothers Grem like every fucking week! She broke up with him in high school!... HIGH SCHOOL!! Talk about stalker behaviour! She made it clear she's not interested, but he still bothers her! If anyone did something with my Gremmy, it's him."

Leonid took many notes, making sure to put simple dashes for every time Mothgo swore. The amount of vitriol she held for Harris was almost... scary.

It gave him a bit of a lead, at least. That's twice somebody mentioned a Jack or Jackson in negative relation to Ms. Mewton.

He closed his notepad and put it back in his jacket as he stood up.

"Thank you for your time, Ms. Mothgo. Would you happen to know where he lives?" he inquired.

"Yeah, at least Grem did. She has it written down in case she ever needed to call the police."

Leonid couldn't help but grimace slightly as Mothgo speedwalked to the kitchen, returning after a second with a small slip of paper.

Looking over it thoroughly, he nodded once more and headed to the front door.

"Thank you again, Ms. Mothgo."

"Of course, Mr. Aksakov."

Leonid stepped through the doorway... before stopping a moment.

"Oh, there's just one more thing."

Leo hurried to his car, went through a few things, and returned to the house after a minute, an envelope in hand.

"Here." he handed it to the hybrid robot.

Mothgo carefully opened the envelope flap...

and found enclosed some money.

"You sound like you're in need of help. I hope this makes this easier, if only a little, and if only for a while."

Mothgo looked up and gave him a soft smile.

"Thanks!" she chirped at him.

Leonid nodded and turned around, but stopped just short of the doorway when he heard something from behind him.

"... Detective?"

He turned around, promptly being met with a pained expression. Mothgo spoke one more time to him.

"Please, find my friend. Please."

Leonid gave her a quick nod before leaving.

He went to his car and hopped in, starting it up before driving away. Thoughts swirled in his head.

That's two people who deeply cared for Grementine... three, perhaps, if I could talk to her assistant. Her friend seemed horribly stressed with her gone.

... I hope she's okay. I hope they'll both be okay.

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

Detective Aksakov parked his car. He got out, facing the house before him.

It was a two-story row house in a neighbourhood downtown. The white coat of paint on the siding seemed fresh, as did the blue paint on the gable of the roof. In the driveway was an orange Toyota brand minivan. There was a kiddy pool in the small front lawn as well, for whatever reason.

Leonid walked up to the front door, having to tread on the freshly mowed lawn, seeing as there was no pathway.

He approached the door, knocking swiftly. From inside, he could hear the very faint sound of a baby fussing, quickly drowned out by footsteps.

Alright, Mr. Harris, he thought. Let's see what you're li--

A woman answered the door.

She had the facial shape and ears of a hare, but not only did her nose more closely resemble that of some kind of ungulate, she had antlers sticking out of her head. Her fingers ended in small hooves, too. In her arms was a very small boy, looking to have just reached toddler age. He had tiny little horn buds on his head, longish ears, digitigrade legs, hooves, and big eyes. Big eyes that never looked away from Leo.

He could hear the baby fussing, too.

This took Leo off his guard for but a brief moment, though he very quickly tried to collect himself.

"Does Jake- (damnit) does Jack Harris live here?" he asked awkwardly.

The woman cocked her head at him.

"Who are ya?" she inquired back at him in a thick Midwest accident.

Leonid took out his badge once more.

"Leonid Aksakov, private investigator."

"Ah. Yer looking for my cousin."

"Right. Does he live here?"

"Nope. He moved out a few months ago, and my uncle John-- his dad-- let me and my crew move in. Good thing, too, we needed the space. He had a lot of weird..." she trailed off as she looked at the toddler in her arms. "... stuff in his house, for whatever reason."

Leo sighed a bit.

"Ah... do you know where he moved?"

"Nope. Dunno."

Oh.

"Well... can you maybe give me the address of his father?"

"Oh, sure! He and Aunt Tu live up in Hometon, in the Upper Hills section. 3 [STREET NAME] to be exact."

"Alright, thank you, Ms..."

"Paula Lopez."

"Ms. Lopez. One more thing, what do you mean by 'weird stuff?'"

"Lotta weird pictures of some chick. Threw em all out, they creeped the.... the uh, devil out of me. Now if you excuse me, one of my little ankle-biters needs some TLC. Bye, now!"

The little one in her arms waved at him as she closed the door.

Leo walked back to his car, thinking about Ms. Lopez's comments.

He had a lot of weird stuff... lotta weird pictures of some chick.

It gave him a sour feeling in his gut.

Maybe a little trip out of town may help him. A quick google search too-- hes seen the name Harris in clothing stores before. Who knows?

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

Geez, I can see why the area is called Upper Hills, Leonid thought as he drove up a road surrounded by large, fancy houses.

He was almost amazed at some of the things he saw-- fountains in the front yard, gated blocking the driveway, a small tennis court in front of one particularly grand house. It would be truly amazing if Leonid didn't feel looked down just by driving through.

Eventually, though, he pulled up to the Harris house.

Well... a little too big to be just a house. Thought only two stories, the house AND property were quite large. He could even see a second floor balcony! Didn't feel big enough to be a mansion though... he'd just stick with manor for now.

Water sprinkled lined the expansive front lawn, going off back and forth while Leo walked up the cobblestone path to the front door. A few small yet intricate marble fountains sat in front of the railing of the front porch, with its swinging bench and everything.

As he did, he took out a cigarette.

The driveway was something to write home about too-- there were four whole cars there. A very nice looking minivan, a Honda Civic, a blue Tesla Model Y, and to top it all of, a 2009 Honda S2000 CR. Leo had heard about those cars-- they cost nearly a quarter of a million dollars nowadays,

He didn't like it. He lit the cigarette in his hands as fast as he could.

He walked up the brick steps to the porch, taking note of the silver knocker on the door and the large window it was in the middle of. He couldn't exactly see through it, though-- the windows were stained glass.

Taking a puff from his cigarette, he took the knocker and gave it a good wringing, listening to the strangely clean sounding knock it produced.

He heard the footsteps approaching unusually fast. Perhaps Mr. Harris was nearby when he knocked. Ah, well, at least he didn't have to wait so long for hi--

The door opened. This time, he was not met by an adult.

Rather, a child. A young girl to be exact. She seemed to be a hare of some kind. She wore a long sleeved striped shirt and a denim skirt, and she looked up at Leo with her inquisitive eyes.

Leonid looked at the child with what he guess was a "deer in the headlights" look, not saying anything for a moment. He tried to compose himself once more, exhaling the cigarette smoke away from her direction before clearing his throat.

"Hello... are you John Harris?"

He had not composed himself properly.

The girl blinked at him. "Which John Harris? We have two." she replied.

Leo pinched the bridge of his nose, damning his stupid question before he took a breath and spoke again.

"... Whichever of the two is the father of John Harris." he explained, promptly taking another drag off his smoke.

This would prove to be a mistake when the girl was silent for a moment before turning around and calling out,

"DAD! There's a fancy man at the door and he wants you!"

Leonid nearly choked on the cigarette and went into a coughing fit while the girl scampered away. Luckily, it ended before another person appeared at the door.

He looked to be somewhere in his early 50s, and wore a fleece vest over a long sleeve button up shirt. He wore black slacks and loafers, and had a very expensive looking watch on his wrist. Unusual for a warm day in May.

The man cleared his throat.

"Good afternoon, sir. I'm John Harris Sr, the one you seek." he introduced himself, a haughty tone coating every inch of his voice. "What is your business?"

Leonid, already regretting coming here, took out his badge yet again.

"Leonid Aksakov, Private Investigator. I'm looking for your son... Jack Harris." he announced.

John put his thumb and finger up to his chin, stroking a little.

"A detective, are we?" the hare responded.

"... Well, I might as well let you in, sir. I'll have to ask that you cigarette, though."

"Of course, Mr. Harris."

The detective looked around, but found no ashtray. He looked up at John awkwardly, murmuring a little before coughing into his fist.

"Any place where I can extinguish it?" he muttered sheepishly.

John waved his hand dismissively.

"Just stamp it out on the doorstep. Our groundskeeper can take care of it later." With that, he walked back into the manor.

This guy had too much money, Leonid thought, though out loud he simply said "Alright, sir." He threw the cigarette on the ground and snuffed it out on the ground, before wiping his feet on their welcome mat and walking inside.

The walls were a creamy yellow colour with a dark oak trim, and a fancy hallway table with pictures and ceramic figurines. Throughout the entryway and hallway, paintings and photographs were hung upon the wall. There was an entryway to some sort of red room with the same trim.

Something told him they were rich.

As Leonid hung up his coat on the standing rack, John turned to him with a somewhat smug look on his face.

"Now, as you are a guest in our manor, we need to make you feel welcome. Tell me, do you like biscuits?"

Snob. Of course he offers me biscuits. He'll probably give me a cup of tea, too.

"Of course, that is a very generous and kind offer, Mr. Harris." Leonid replied out loud.

John clapped his hands happily.

"Perfect! I'll get my wife to put on some biscuits and tea for us, you go to the sitting room and I'll gather the family."

John darted down a hallway and into a doorway, giving Leonid some space to sigh and rant quietly to himself.

"Of course he asks his wife, why am I not surprised that Mr. Can't-Even-Tie-His-Shoes-By-Himself Harris orders his wife to do that for him?"

He started toward the sitting room, still ranting.

"... And NOW I get to meet his family. What is this, The Sound Of Music??? Well... at least maybe I get to find out more about Jack through this. Just act polite and friendly, and ask the right questions... then you're out of here. Hopefully that is soon."

Suddenly, Leo heard John talking to someone down the hall. The voice sounded like that of a young woman.

"Julie, get up from your chair! We have an important guest over."

"Dad, I'm working on an essay!"

"It can wait, Juliana. We must be polite."

"Ugh, FINE."

He couldn't help but sigh again.

"This is why I prefer when people come to my office, instead of doing field work... especially when it's guys like him..." he muttered.

His hand unconsciously reached for a cigarette. It stopped once he realized.

He already wanted to leave.

.....

A few minutes later, Leonid was sat in the sitting room.

The wood trim of the walls was now white in color, and the paint was a bright inviting yellow. He was sat on a white couch with a floral print. In front of him was a white coffee table covered in a silken tablecloth, and across from him in a chair was Mr. Harris.

There were other things too, of course-- on the wall to his left was a big white mantle-place holding many photographs and trinkets, along with a childs drawing taped to it. Next to that was a grandfather clock. On the wall to his left was a loveseat similar to the couch, and above that was a large amount of portraits.

He found his interest drawn to these. At the very top was a wedding photo and a large family photo. Below these was a series of photos forming a rectangular shape. The frames were interesting-- they contained two pictures instead of one. On the left side of each frame was a photo of a leveret, and on the right of each was what he guessed was a recent picture of each leveret. One only had a photo of the leveret for some reason. All in all, there were 12 people depicted. Next to the frame in the top right corner was a 13th picture of a leveret, though this one was lop-eared and french gray in fur colour.

Leonid's best guess was that these were his children. Definitely shocking to see, at first, but he figured he must have wanted a large, influential family. Still didn't make it any less surprising.

Other people were in the room, too.

To the left in front of the mantle-place was a miserable young woman slumped in a chair. He guessed she was the one John had been talking down to— he knew the look of someone who had been talked down to by their father. She kept shooting dirty looks at John, who either didn't notice or didn't care.

In an armchair next to John was a young man in a Supreme shirt typing on his phone.

Leaning against the right wall was a teenage boy in what he guessed was a basketball shirt and sports shorts. From the looks of it, he'd been practicing, as evidence by the Gatorade he was nursing.

On the loveseat was the young girl from before, though this time she was joined by a younger boy. He had a Bluey shirt on, and shorts held up by suspenders.

Both children were staring at him. He couldn't help but feel uneased.

He waved to them politely, unsure of what to do about them. Maybe John Sr. was gonna introduce them? Again, he wasn't sure. He didn't even know if he should say anything.

Luckily the problem solved itself when the little girl asked, "Are you a detective? Like on the TV?"

Leo breathed a sigh of relief and formulated a response.

"Well... yes, in a way... but my job is not as exciting as the television makes it appear to be. It involves a lot more paperwork."

The two children gave him a look of surprise and happiness, clearly in awe regardless of what he said.

"That's so cool..." the little boy marveled.

Leonid returned with a polite smile.

John piped up all of a sudden.

"I imagine you're wondering who the young people here are. They're my children, of course!"

"Oh, I see." Leo calmly replied, though he thought to himself 'As if I would have never guessed that. You literally told me i was going to meet them.' "You must be very proud of them."

John pointed at the people around Leonid as he replied, starting with the young woman. "This is Juliana, Johnathan (named for myself), Jacob, Jillian, and little Joey.

"They aren't all of my children, of course. You can see the others though, right above Jill and Joey."

Saying this, he gestured to the many photos Leo had seen earlier.

So I was right.

"Ah, thirteen wonderful children, I see!"

"Oh, just 12. The grey one is my grandson."

Leonid nodded in understanding.

"I see you have quite the large family... and that the branches of your tree have grown wide; but I should not expect anything else. I have, after all, heard about the famous Harris family. How an ancestor of yours founded a shoe factory that continues to this very day... together with the manufacturing and distribution of socks, a branch that was added later."

John sat up might and proud, snootier than anything.

"Yes, my great-grandfather Peter. I'm the current owner of the show factory, and will pass it down to my oldest and his family. I have many children with their own pursuits in success. Most of which have succeeded."

Jill, the little girl, butted in all of a sudden.

"Can I do the name thing, Dad?"

John Sr. smiled at her. "Only if our guest wants to see."

Both looked at him expectantly.

Leonid hadn't the faintest idea what she was talking about, but decided to reply with an "Oh, yes." It probably wouldn't be good to be rude to the young daughter of a man who makes enough money to look down at you simply by giving you food.

Cheerfully, Jill stood up on the love seat and started pointing at the photos, reciting what must have been an oft said phrase.

"Jack, Janet, James, Julie, Jenny Jared and Johnny, Jake and Jorge, Jill-- that's me, Judie-- she was my twin, and Joey!"

Leonid felt himself flinching internally at the was, and couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness. He didn't want the family to see this, though, so he smiled politely and nodded.

"Wonderful! All of them are great names."

He turned to John Sr. "I assume, Mr. Harris, that it was you who has chosen the names of your children... and/or had a say in it?"

"Well, yes, most of them. I did wish for them all to start with J, but of course my wife had a say in the matter."

Leonid nodded again, looking back at the pictures, whispering "What a fascinating family..."

His volume returned to normal as he spoke to John again.

"Mr. Harris," he began, "As you have already guessed, I have come for this visit for a specific reason: It is about your oldest son, who is Jack I presume? I will leave it up to you if you prefer your children remain here. Or if we should talk in private."

"I agree. I think it would be best if—“

John was interrupted by a woman entering the room.

She seemed to be the same age as John Sr, and wore a white turtleneck sweater with a knee-length chocolate brown skirt-- 'perhaps they aren't aware of the concept of heat?' Leo thought briefly-- and was a carrying a tray with biscuits, teacups, and a teapot.

She gave Leonid a friendly smile, greeting him with “Hello, sir.”

Leonid gave a smile back.

“Greetings! You are Mrs. Harris, I presume? I would like to thank you for your hospitality, and your biscuits and tea.”

She nodded, setting the tray down on the coffee table. The biscuits seemed to be half dipped in chocolate, and were in funny little oblong shapes. Jill and Joey immediately went for them.

“Yes, that’s me.” She confirmed. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

She grabbed a chair from the corner and pulled it next to John Sr, sitting down as he spoke to her.

“Not at all, my flame. Detective Aksakov has some questions for us regarding Jackson.” he crooned, putting his arm around her.

Petunia smiled and gave him a kiss, before pouring up some tea. She gave teacups to herself, Julie, John Sr, John Jr, and Leonid.

Leonid gave her a polite nod as he took a sip of the tea. It tasted something like white tea, but with a strange yet nice floral finish.

“The tea tastes wonderful… thank you. Now, Mr. and Mrs. Harris; due to a current investigation, I thought that Jack… Jackson could perhaps help me with some questions.

“I understand that you might be curious as to what this investigation is about, but I am afraid that I am not allowed to talk about it. My apologies; but—“ He looked at John Sr.— “You probably understand how it is with business and NDAs. In my field, it is like this as well. I wanted to talk to your son, but I was unfortunately unable to reach him. Given that you, as his parents, are his closest relatives, I thought you might perhaps know how I could reach him.”

John Sr nodded, replying “I understand perfectly. He’s QUITE far away, sir.”

Leonid raised an eyebrow curiously.

He sat up a bit, clapping his hands and looking around at his children in the room.

“Alright, children— leave. This is a private matter.” He announced firmly.

The Harris children got up saying various things— Leonid swore he heard Julie say “finally”— and soon, the three adults were alone in the room together.

"Is he currently on a business trip?" Leo asked once alone with them.

John chuckled a bit. "Oh, Gary hardly hosts any business trips these days. It's different; Jack moved."

"Moved... I do have to say, this does surprise me a bit... after all, from what I've heard, Jack worked in the... if I may say family business; so again, I do have to say it surprises me to hear this, Mr. Harris."

Leonid didn't EXACTLY hear. Jack was mentioned on the company website and the Wikipedia page. Best to act he knows and suspects nothing.

John curtly nodded. "Yes, it was strange for us, too. He said he 'needed a fresh start'. Perhaps he's looking to start his own branch of the business."

"We're looking to book a flight for next month to visit him. He said he'd have something nice to show us when he got there." Mrs. Harris added, before asking, "Would you care for a chocolate ladyfinger, Detective?"

"Of course. Thank you Mrs. Harris, that is very kind of you." he replied politely. He was having some thoughts regarding her addition, however.

'Hmm... this might have just gotten more interesting than I thought.'

Speaking out loud again, he said, "I see... you both must be very excited to see your son, right?"

"Yes, very excited. He never said what it WAS that he was going to show us, he wants it to remain a surprise." John replied quite matter of factly.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Harris picked up one of the ladyfingers and put it on a napkin before handing it to Leonid.

He looked at her. "Thank you." he said.

He took a bite of the biscuit-- it tasted almost exactly like sponge cake, save for the milk chocolate coating.

"Wonderful... absolutely wonderful, this biscuit... I am certain that Jackson has his reasons to keep this surprise a surprise... and wanting to wait before showing it to you." he remarked, nodding a bit.

Petunia gave him a proud smile, obviously taking pride in her lovely ladyfingers.

"You're welcome, detective! Though I still can't help but wonder what it is..." she queried.

"If he is keeping it this much of a secret, then I assume it is going to be very exciting." he suggested, taking another biscuit.

"Did you have any other questions?" John asked before sipping his tea.

Leonid hummed a bit and gave his answer. "Well, I wanted to talk with your son, but I guess that given how he has moved away, this is not possible. But thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Harris, for answering my questions and introducing me to your family; and thank you, Mrs. Harris, for the tea and biscuits."

John said nothing, before giving Leonid a little smirk.

"If you want, I can tell you where he is."

This made the detective sit up expectantly.

"You would? That... that is very kind of you, Mr. Harris. Thank you very much."

The middle aged man took a page of card stock out of his vest pocket, along with a fountain pen, and wrote something on it. Once done, he passed it to Leonid.

The detective took a look.

New AndaAnderville, British Columbia, Canada

Leonid couldn't help wrinkling his brow in confusion.

Canada... why did he move so far away?

Shaking his head, he simply put it in his pocket, before giving a slight yet genuine smile and talking again.

"Thank you, Mr. Harris, I can assure you that this helps me a lot. I am confident that when I meet your son, he'll be able to answer the question that I have. Thank you very much for your help."

"You're welcome, Detective Aksakov. Feel free to stay as long as you need to."

Leo finished his tea and second biscuit and got up, still smiling.

"Thank you for the kind offer, Mr. Harris, but I think I've taken enough of you and your family's valuable time. I don't want to take any more away from it." He admitted to them.

"You're welcome again, Detective Aksakov." Petunia said warmly.

"... and thank you for coming over!" her husband added.

Leonid got up and bowed. "Thank you for your kindness, Mr. and Mrs. Harris."

As the detective left the house, he was already thinking of his next move, and what it was gonna be.

First, though, he'd have to find the next flight to British Columbia.

[themummersfolly]

Octoboss content: chapter 2

This is posted on my AO3 under the title Highflyer, btw.

“460 cc’s, four stroke, air cooled.” The sun was down, and the woman sat cross-legged with the bikers at their campfire. “Machined up north, me pa’s design. Ain’t nobody can make an ultralight like he could.”

“How much guzzoline’s it drink?” Tyro wanted to know. Beside him, Sketch had gotten over his disappointment and leaned in, listening with interest.

“I don’t feed her straight guzzoline; mix it with oil. But she’ll drink a lot of things. I’ll pick up old cook oil from over at Bugtown, swap it for dry fish coming south and bullet lead coming north.”

“Where’s Bugtown?” VW asked, stirring the stewpot with a ladle. Tonight’s fare was made from lizards, mystery meat jerky, and the last of the crumbled up hardtack. The woman had contributed a packet of crusty-looking dried blobs; a lifetime in the Wasteland had taught the men not to question what they ate as long as it was food, and no one asked what they were. Huxley had tried one before they went in the pot and said it was sweet, that it would go well with the lizard.

“That way.” The woman pointed northeast. “About a day and a half flying. But there’s a big patch of salt between here and there. Don’t see nobody riding on it, so I don’t think you can cross it except by air.”

The Octoboss had taken off his helmet and leaned one elbow on it. “What kind of mileage you get?”

“She’ll go for about four hours on one tank of fuel. I can go longer if I glide and use thermals.”

He pondered this for a moment. “That what you were doing when you landed? Why we didn’t hear no motors?”

“Yeah. Can’t fly with a blown motor. So I switched it off and glided till I found a good spot to land.”

VW gave the pot another stir and lifted a ladleful out to sniff. “Think it’s done.”

It was a custom the Octoboss had established years ago: his point riders ate first, then any sick or wounded. Then the rest of his crew got their share. He himself ate last. Tonight, he nodded his head toward their guest.

“Let the lady eat first.”

She fished a tin cup out of her pack and held it out to receive the first ladleful. The others followed in their usual order, then he took the ladle from VW and filled his own cup. The following silence was broken only by slurping and by Brakeline swearing when he burned his mouth. Finally, when they had all licked the last of the grease from their fingers, the woman reached into her gear and pulled out a small round drum.

“You like music?”

“Know any metal rocks?” Huxley leaned forward. The old songs were a favorite in the Horde, and Dementus was known to reward anyone who could play a banger about fast cars, pretty women, and good times. It was a good way to cool tempers and get everyone’s engines revving together. The woman thumped her drum thoughtfully.

“How ‘bout Paradise City?”

The song was practically sacred to the bikers of the Wasteland. The woman’s voice rose over them, backed by her hand drum and the growl of the others singing along, then Tyro, who was the only one of the crew who could carry a tune in a bucket, took over with a couple lesser-known verses. Paradise City was followed by Highway To Hell, the Immigrant Song, and Manic Mechanic; the woman’s voice rose like a kite or rumbled like wheels on a good smooth road, and she belted out the words with the confidence of a History Man. When Huxley suggested a song she didn’t know, Tyro sang a few bars to give her the beat and she accompanied him on the drum while he sang Back In Black. As they wound down, she shifted to a slower beat and two songs they’d never heard before: one about hard work and choking chemicals, the other a wistful number about dreams and visions and rain. The Octoboss stretched out his long legs to the fire, watching her, as lost in the song as she was in the singing. The fire died down to embers; the last notes of the song drifted up with the sparks. Sketch and VW were already asleep; Huxley was curled up under Tyro’s arm, and Brakeline lay on his back, gazing up at the stars. Quietly, the woman tucked her drum into her pack. She glanced once at the Octoboss, then turned toward her plane. He rose to his feet as she did.

“I’ll walk you back.”

The silence of the desert seemed almost benevolent in the wake of her singing. The moon was full tonight, and he studied her as they walked down the slope.

“You got some pipes on you. Like a bird.” They were almost to the plane. She glanced up at him, quizzical, and he fumbled a little. “Not a crow, I mean, something nicer…” Something he hadn’t heard since he was young, and had never learned the name of.

“A lark.” She caught the fumbled thought and tossed it back to him. “’Least that’s what we say back home.”

“Yeah. Lark.”

She returned his gaze, didn’t look away, didn’t flinch. The derringer was in the thigh pocket of her coveralls; she had crossed her arms, tucking her fingers into her armpits. He took as step towards her. She didn’t step back.

“That was a slick move you pulled back there.” His voice was low, appreciative.

“What, pulling a gun on you?”

“Pick the one the others look to and cap him. You knew they’d back down.”

“I figured you’d stop ‘em. Or else I’d give a good accounting of myself on the way out.”

“They’ve got my back. Or my front, as the case may be.”

“They gonna leave me alone?”

“They will. I told ‘em not to bother you.”

“You got a lot of faith in your boys.”

Something almost like a smile pulled at his mouth. “Yeah.” She was a full foot shorter than him; if they stood toe-to-toe, he could rest his chin on top of her head. He was tempted to try, just to see how far her fearlessness went. Instead he broke the moment off and turned back to his camp. “Watch out for camel spiders. They’re bad around here.”

“Yeah. You too.”

He couldn’t resist one last look over his shoulder, at the plane, at its pilot. “G’night, Lark.”

[ruporas]

ur VWs reduce me to a wet beast who howls pathetically, writhing in a wet patch on the floor created by tears.

ur tdov mashwood also made me explode i very very very very very very much love it so so so much its so cool wen u both mash and vash the wood

IT'S KILLING ME I GET THIS ASK IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE PREVIOUS ONE DGMKSGMSKDD first hand experience on figuring out what the maturity labels are like. thank you for sending me this and THANK YOU FOR YOUR KIND AND ENCOURAGING WORDS! i'm glad(?) i can inflict those emotions with my silly silly vashwoods

and hehe i'm glad a lot of people enjoy that tdov mashwood piece... they are all just so very trans to me and it makes me happy to see a piece of myself reflecting in my favorite characters. drew it for myself mainly but very very happy to see others connecting or also just enjoying trans hcs or just generally liking the piece itself!

THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS !!! and thank you for the image, u have no idea how much that img can mean to me

[kits-ships]

💕 — canon-can-fight-me

this is my first time writing a good chunk of olive's story down so forgive me if its jumbled <3 im about to go ham

olive lives in ~1970 america and graduated with a major in botany and a minor in culinary arts. prior to her travels in the tardis, she lived in a little vw bus with a kitten named celeste! she doesn't have a very good relationship with her family as she didnt live up to their expectations, which is why she travels so often!

she met the doctor after a protest went very wrong. she'd been on her old college campus (just four months after graduating) and had joined friends in a protest against the war- expecting to just peacefully sit around and talk as others gave speeches. but, like other protests at the time, things went wrong very quickly and olive soon found herself in a field alone, with a horrible pain in her shoulder. this was when some goofy looking man came up to her and began asking some very odd questions. "what year is it? where are we?" had olive not been too shocked to move, she probably wouldve looked at him like he was... well, an alien.

despite her usual fear of men, this stranger seemed very different. whether it was the way he spoke, how he moved around, or by the way he dressed, something about him allowed her to calm down and she allowed him to patch up the wound in her shoulder. she'd even showed him her lil vw bus once she felt better and the doctor got to meet lil celeste! watching the kitten play with his scarf is what helped olive finally conclude that this guy probably wasn't going to kill her and she used this opportunity to more formally introduce herself to him.

as they spoke, the doctor began to pepper in little details about not being a human, travelling through time, and his ship- the tardis! but, since it was the seventies, olive wasnt entirely sure if he was just pulling her leg or if he was high off of something. nevertheless, she wanted to be polite to the man who had just rescued her and followed him to the little police box. that was when she realized that, damn, this guy *is* an alien!

from there, they began to travel about- olive eventually meeting sarah jane, harry, and the brigadier during their adventures. though she preferred to travel through the decades on earth, olive often found that her knowledge of plants came in handy on alien planets! whether it was to identify something useful or harmful, she was always so intrigued to learn more about the universe. despite this though, her favorite thing to learn about was always the doctor!

she related very closely to his story of leaving all the stuffy timelords behind on gallifrey to explore the universe. after all, she'd left her parent's home to never return as they hated her love for music, parties, drugs, etc. they also wanted her to be an accountant, which olive thought sounded awful!!

later into their journey, they found themselves wandering about ancient rome together. the doctor was pointing out landmarks, describing the colosseum, and the different buildings dedicated to the gods. eventually, though, a priest approached them, brought them to the temple of venus, and excitedly gave them a bottle of wine! the doctor eventually figured that the man saw olive in her flower crown and flowy robes and had wrongfully assumed she was in wedding attire- but neither of them would say no to free wine!! u could say it was either the wrong or right day to wear orange depending on how u look at it.

after beginning to help themselves to the wine, olive quickly discovered that 1.) the romans made some strong wine and 2.) alcohol didn't have much of an effect on timelords! so, after getting a bit of bread and olive oil to dip it in, they returned to the tardis to snack. long story short, olive the lightweight ended up announcing how cute she thought the doctor was before prompting him to close his eyes so that she could kiss him. by then, the doctor was like "haha ok maybe u should go to bed ur drunk" but olive didnt want to- she wanted to stay up with her favorite timelord and compliment him more!! he eventually got her to sleep though- worried that she was just speaking drunken nonsense. olive, however, had been entirely honest that night and woke up a horrible, blushing mess. much to the doctor's delight, though, she bashfully admitted that everything she said was true and, if it was okay, she'd very much like to kiss him again.

long after their relationship began, closer to the end of his regeneration, olive was thinking about how leela married a timelord on gallifrey and was like, damn. i want that. and so she got that!! it was a little wedding bc olive is a bit intimidated by the timelords, but she got to see leela and romana again and was happy she got her cute timelord husband!

shortly after that, olive decided to stop traveling the universe, but she didn't want to return to the seventies! there was far too many serial killers and so much war. so, with the doctors help, she decided to hop a bit forward in time and settled on ~2014. olive then upgraded to an rv, planted her own garden, and runs a little bakery somewhere in the countryside of maine! she still has occasional adventures with the doctor, though, and he visits her as often as he can! sure, he may be booked for two centuries, but that's nothing compared to his lifespan. the time war does put a dent in their time together but <3 you know.

the only last thing i know is that she has some kind of sonic device that connects to his screwdriver in case of emergencies. i haven't decided what it is yet, but all i can think of is a lil key fob !!

[oh-dameron]

Monkey D Luffy is the only wizard PI in the Chicago phonebook.

Luffy's magic is almost entirely around physical augmentation. He's developed a signature technique that lets him stretch his body. He can't explain how he does it, and no-one else has the faintest idea how he's doing it. Luffy has vast stores of mana and willpower but his fine control isn't great. When he gets involved in a case the only things you can be sure of are that he'll win, and that the property damage will be ludicrous.

Zoro is the Knights of the Cross. All three of them (overacheiver). Technically he never gets lost, but only because he never really knows where he is to begin with: he just walks in a direction, gets on any bus or plane that presents itself, and Providence delivers him wherever he's supposed to be. It's not often the destination he had in mind when he set out, but there generally ends up being a fight so it all works out.

Nami is a wizard who never joined the White Council. She's an elementalist with specialties in air and water, and while she doesn't have Luffy's vast reserves of mana her control is a lot more precise. Once she got away from evil wizard Arlong Du Morne's mind control she set to travelling the Never-Never, mapping new pathways and shortcuts through the dream world. When she isn't travelling she lives in the Chicago house her mother left to her. She is deeply involved in the paranormal community, and works hard to protect her people from magical threats. She is Luffy's first phonecall whenever anything happens and does most of the actual detective-ing.

Usopp has six or more side-hustles instead of a regular job, including graphic design, freelance paranormal reporting, and providing endless mechanical repairs for Luffy's clapped-out VW Beetle (the car was originally blue but half the panels have been replaced. There is a bobblehead sheep ornament on the dashboard). He has no innate ability for magic, but he's worked out gadgets that let him use it anyway: goggles to let him see spellcasting, a skateboard that runs on mana dials, a sligshot that fires arcane bullets. He helped Nami upgrade her wand and in return she graciously lets him house-sit for a reduced rate when she's out of town and run a workshop out of her garage (Usopp says he should be paid for watering her plants. Nami claims he's squatting and owes her rent. Usopp says you can't tell tenants to sleep in the garage the one week in four you are home. This argument has been ongoing for serveral years at this point).

Sanji hit a rough patch after he distanced himself from his birth family (again): he ended up crashing on the ratty sofa in Luffy's one-bedroom basement apartment for far too long (thoroughly foiling Usopp's plans to have a regular alternate crashpad for that one week in four). The White Court vampires have backed off for now: Reiju is a lot easier to deal with than Judge, though if anything she's even more dangerous. It's not easy being a semi-reformed incubus, but it's been better since Sanji's started working as a stylist, flitting around beautiful women all day and sustaining himself through the intimacy of the salon. He'd rather be back working as a chef at the Baratie, but as much love as he puts into the food he can't draw nourishment from it. He's slowly starving, but his code won't allow him to feed on unwilling people.

Chopper is a reindeer were-human. He's working as a medical examiner for now because he's just not used to humans enough to pretend to be one full-time. Also, he's too young for living patients to take him seriously just yet. He likes cotton candy and polka music (he does not like being complimented, bastard!).

Robin is The Archive: a magical repository of all human knowledge. The construct resides in a human and is passed down from mother to daughter. Twenty years ago The White Council determined that The Archive presented a threat and assassinated the previous Archive, passing the sum of all human knowledge to an eight-year old. They have hunted Robin ever since in an attempt to finish the job.

Brook is a Spirit of Air and Intellect bound to a real human skull. He is Luffy's tutor in all things arcane. Likes: panties, dirty books, music, the internet. Dislikes: sunlight, ghosts, being bound to a skull. When the situation calls for it Luffy can attatch the skull to a dummy skeleton and Brook can pilot it around like a body. The skeleton is eight feet tall (it was from Home Depot) and he still has a skull for a face, so it's not an everyday thing ("I'll wear an afro wig, a top hat, a purple suit and sunglasses! No-one will notice my face, not that I have a face for them to notice! Yohohoho!"). Luffy always lets him pick the music.

I'm not sure about Franky, Jimbe, Vivi (Summer Lady?) or Yamato, though I have Thoughts about Svartalves, Formorians, and Kincaid.

Luffy is not popular with the Marines White Council of Wizards, but having a powerful grandfather high up in the organisation helps. The old man can't stand politics, but he's strong enough that the others can't just ignore his opinion.

Monkey D Dragon is busy at the Outer Gates.

The Order of the Blackened Denarius is led by Rob Lucci.

Gecko Moria was leading the Black Court vampires but shit has kind of gone sideways for them ever since they went all-in on summoning the Last Titan (whose ass Luffy kicked).

There are no confirmed members of the Black Council, but lbr it's Blackbeard and crew.

Whitebeard is Vadderung, which makes Marco and Ace Valkyries (you're welcome) I guess and Ace could be an Einherjaren but that's less fun

Shanks is the Leansidhe.

Law is Marcone (sorry I don't make the rules). unless Crocodile is Marcone. Hmm, both? Either?

Kaido was the head of the Red Court of Vampires, but good luck finding any of them to ask how that's going. He's also an Actual Dragon sometimes called Ferrovax.

There's an incredibly powerful guy who doesn't have a crew and just hangs out in his big gothic castle by himself: Drakul Mihawk (that's it he's just the same guy, down to adopting the remains of the Black Court).

[hell0mega]

it's so funny to be in an environment that typically hosts people with money when you are not and haven't ever been someone with money. because the people there really do treat you better.

i needed a new car and thankfully my grandfather was willing to help by giving us the 3k for the deposit. that's the only reason why i was able to get a decent (used) car. while we were doing the final paperwork, our salesman and his supervisor rushed over to us and told us something happened to the car and he needed to make sure we were okay with it before we finished signing

so we were expecting the worst, obviously, because he looked terrified (because he thought he was about to lose his commission, surely). we walk up to the car in the garage and he explains that the garage door has been faulty and so it closed on top of the back of the car. and we were like oh no! thinking this thing got crushed

but then he shows us that the back light and a little bit of the roof got cracked. and we were like oh. and he was like, we can fix it don't worry, and we were like oh! and then he said it may take an hour and we went OH.

we went from thinking we weren't going to get my perfect car at all, to thinking the body got damaged, to thinking we'd have to wait a few days, to knowing there'd be some superficial patching and a light replacement and we'd be driving out of there in 90 minutes.

for comparison, we drove there in a 2000 vw with water damage, a rotted sunroof visor (from the water damage), completely replaced electrical system (from the water damage), torn seats, duct tape holding the bumper on, and a broken radio system. we got a quote from the place in case we wanted to offset the cost by trading it in, and when the salesman pulled up the "$1.00" in the system, he thought there was a mistake. and we were like actually no that seems about right. a dollar.

[embroidery-pro]

Transportation Embroidery Machine Designs

Discover Our Collection of Transportation Embroidery Machine Designs:

From Classic Cars to Modern Planes

Embroidery enthusiasts and crafters, buckle up! We're about to take you on a journey through our exciting collection of transportation embroidery machine designs. Whether you're a fan of vintage automobiles, sleek motorcycles, majestic ships, or soaring aircraft, our diverse range of patterns will inspire you to create stunning projects that celebrate the world of transportation. The Allure of Transportation-Themed Embroidery Transportation has always captured the human imagination. From the first wheel to the latest spacecraft, modes of travel have shaped our history, culture, and dreams. It's no wonder that transportation-themed embroidery designs are so popular among crafters of all skill levels. These intricate patterns allow you to add a touch of nostalgia, adventure, or technical precision to your embroidery projects. Whether you're personalizing a denim jacket with a classic car motif, creating a nautical-themed throw pillow, or embellishing a child's backpack with colorful trains, our transportation designs offer endless possibilities for creative expression. Exploring Our Transportation Design Categories - Automotive Designs: A Drive Down Memory Lane Our automotive embroidery designs feature a wide array of vehicles that will appeal to car enthusiasts of all ages. From meticulously detailed vintage cars to sleek modern sports cars, you'll find patterns that capture the essence of automotive history and innovation. Popular designs in this category include: - Classic American muscle cars - Elegant European luxury vehicles - Rugged off-road trucks and SUVs - Quirky vintage VW Beetles and microcars These designs are perfect for personalizing mechanic's uniforms, creating unique car club merchandise, or adding a retro touch to home decor items. Link to the Transportation Designs  - Motorcycle Embroidery: Feel the Freedom of the Open Road For those who love the thrill of two-wheeled adventures, our motorcycle embroidery designs offer a range of options to suit every taste. From vintage choppers to modern sport bikes, these patterns capture the spirit of freedom and rebellion associated with motorcycle culture. Some of our most popular motorcycle designs include: - Classic Harley-Davidson silhouettes - Sleek racing motorcycles - Vintage café racers - Adventure touring bikes These designs are ideal for customizing leather jackets, creating unique patches for riding gear, or adding a rebellious touch to everyday items like tote bags or phone cases. Link to the Transportation Designs  - Nautical and Maritime Designs: Set Sail for Creative Waters Our collection of nautical and maritime embroidery designs allows you to bring the romance of the sea to your projects. From majestic sailing ships to modern cruise liners, these patterns evoke the adventure and mystery of ocean voyages. Highlights of our maritime design collection include: - Tall ships with billowing sails - Lighthouses and coastal scenes - Anchors and nautical symbols - Modern yachts and speedboats These designs are perfect for adding a nautical touch to home decor, creating themed apparel for sailing enthusiasts, or embellishing beach accessories. Link to the Transportation Designs  - Aviation Embroidery: Let Your Imagination Take Flight For those who dream of soaring through the clouds, our aviation embroidery designs offer a range of options that celebrate the miracle of flight. From early biplanes to modern jets, these patterns capture the technical precision and romance of aviation. Popular designs in our aviation collection include: - Vintage propeller planes - Modern commercial airliners - Military aircraft - Hot air balloons and blimps These designs are ideal for personalizing pilot uniforms, creating aviation-themed gifts, or adding a touch of wanderlust to travel accessories. Link to the Transportation Designs  - Train and Railway Designs: All Aboard for Embroidery Fun Train enthusiasts will love our collection of railway-themed embroidery designs. From steam locomotives to bullet trains, these patterns capture the nostalgia and excitement of rail travel. Highlights of our train design collection include: - Classic steam engines - Modern high-speed trains - Charming railway stations - Detailed train components like wheels and signals Link to the Transportation Designs  These designs are perfect for creating themed quilts, personalizing conductor uniforms, or adding a touch of vintage charm to home decor items. These designs are ideal for creating unique science-themed apparel, personalizing items for space enthusiasts, or adding an otherworldly touch to children's room decor. Tips for Working with Transportation Embroidery Designs - Choose the right fabric: Transportation designs often feature intricate details, so select a stable fabric that can support the stitch count without puckering or distorting. - Use appropriate stabilizers: Depending on the complexity of the design and the fabric you're using, you may need to experiment with different types of stabilizers to achieve the best results. - Consider color choices: While many transportation designs look great in realistic colors, don't be afraid to get creative with unexpected color combinations for a more artistic or whimsical effect. - Scale designs appropriately: Make sure to resize designs to fit your project, keeping in mind that some very detailed patterns may not scale down well without losing clarity. - Experiment with thread types: Metallic threads can add a realistic shine to vehicle details, while variegated threads can create interesting effects for backgrounds or scenic elements. Inspiring Project Ideas - Create a transportation-themed quilt using a variety of vehicle designs. - Personalize denim jackets or vests with patches featuring different modes of transportation. - Design unique pillowcases for a child's room, each featuring a different vehicle. - Embroider a series of vintage travel posters featuring various modes of transportation. - Create custom luggage tags or travel accessories with aviation or cruise ship designs. Conclusion: Your Journey Through Transportation Embroidery Begins Here Our collection of transportation embroidery machine designs offers a ticket to endless creative possibilities. Whether you're a seasoned embroiderer or just starting your crafting journey, these patterns provide the perfect way to celebrate the history, innovation, and romance of human transportation. From the ground to the sea to the sky and beyond, our designs capture the essence of movement and adventure. So, fire up your embroidery machine, choose your favorite design, and let your creativity hit the open road. The only limit is your imagination! Link to the Transportation Designs  Read the full article

[losergendered]

may I request:

a gender related to autumn leaves, dewdrops, black & brown feathers, waves splashing on rocks, metallic fabric, ancient busts, old libraries, woven baskets, barrels, and forests.

a gender related to labrador retrievers, UFOs, forgotten forest paths, curiosity, recording anomalies, patched duffel bags, cryptid academia and the colour #4a6d41.

a xenogender related to rat terriers, Godzilla, this image (https://assets.wfcdn.com/im/00704797/resize-h800-w800%5Ecompr-r85/2139/213913034/Eileithyia+Illustration+For+Hipsters+Style+On+Canvas+by+Fighter_Francevna+Graphic+Art.jpg), and being a Space Oddity.

a xenogender connected to pink tamagotchi, bath bombs, takashi murakami sunflowers, lucky charms marshmallows, and usahana.

a neogender connected to pink bat wings, cute chainsaws, the demonia shaker 60 baby pink boots, goth makeup, black nails, white huskies, and the quote ”i'm not that innocent”.

a gender related to hyenas, ‘peace and love’, the 1967 VW Bus, constellations, orange tulips, smooth jazz, and the image (https://www.oldcountrystorefabrics.com/images/fabrics/32329tn500.jpg).

a twistute gender related to sheet ghosts, witch familiars, peaceful flower meadows, Magna Doodle boards, abandoned playgrounds, cluttered post-it notes, laundromats, and tamagotchi.

a gender related to watermelon slices, Dennis the Menace, red electric guitars, stop signs, black cats, bloody bandages, delinquency, and the colors #030713 & #c6020c.

a chaokleine gender related to rebellion, pyromania (dumpster fires), skateboarding, subway trains, fooling around, being a dumb teen, and the quote, “i was born with an insatiable appetite for destruction", and edgy punk aesthetics.

a oracrystular gender connected to crystal balls, purple night skies, blackberry tarts, planet sculptures, and butterflies.

a gender related to venus fly traps, emerald tree boas, re-agent from The Re-Animator, skulls & crossbones, danger signs, indoor gardens, & gas masks.

a gender related to the colours black & white, subliminal messages, hypnosis, mystery, and TV static.

a gender related to xolo dogs, phases of the moon, Monster Energy, dinosaur skulls, demon horns, cryptids, and monster claws.

_ 🌖☄️ anon!!

all are posted!

[the-firebird69]

It's making a note that the warthog looks different than the hog and the teeth are different it says this looks like a warthog and it is the hog looks like a big huge pig he said he can make the face gigantic and the body in the back it's huge and fill up half the patch that's how you know it's the size of the tires and the bike it just looks impressive

Mac Daddy

They're making tons of these right now it's a solution they're making the Baja car and the Polaris are out in Can-Am and you know what they tested them and they fly you would not believe it they might be making the humbug out of the VW it has more than the Polaris and they're going to make a humbug that's a Baja version and this is taking off finally

Thor Freya

Olympus

[artcalledgames]

The Games Ratchet and Clank From a tree jump scare 5 O’nights It was all from Patch Adam’s Robin Williams A real comic Not living now Sorry, Bill Jay Jim Jim Are you color blind Or money blind It’s a Patch Adam’s movie A P A A pay attention Do you see the green in color Besides the Money if American Wait WTF I solved the riddled Deep fake Hello hi low VW some made song Sung by In some words It gave some thoughts?

[semi-imaginary-place]

fe3h nonsense from reddit

Aymr is similar to the Hero's Relics in that all of them were made by the Agarthans from the bodies of the Children of the Goddess. Aymr is their newest experiment in creating powerful weapons, you can think of the Heros Relics as earlier experiments or prototypes. So Aymr doesn't really follow the one-to one rules of the Relics, as you play the other routes and dlc you'll see more of this. As you learn in SS Rhea has been giving out blood and creststone fragments quite often so I assume the Agarthans stole some at some point . Balthus, and Yuri's crest weapons are similarly not consider Relics but share the same icon color and look of the dragony bones. There's also the dark Relics that show up in VW. The sacred crest weapons the Children of the Goddess made themselves so they aren't cursed like the Agarthan made ones, they even heal every turn. Stuff like Staff of Caedues or Sword of Moralta.

3 Hopes really would have sold better if it was also a trpg instead of a musou. (And if it was wasn't half finished.

Felix wants to go brawling. Edelgard and Hilda want wyvern. Catherine also wants brawling and she got robbed. Gender locked classes ROBBED us of gremory Linhardt and warmaster Hilda. But yeah I keep thinking of ways fe3h could have been improved and Catherine could have gotten grappler and had thunderbrand the reward for her paralogue. Like most of the other relics are paralogue locked. We keep joking that wyvern fixes everyone. On maddening Catherine like most sword users fall off but unlike Felix (war master) or Yuri (sniper), Catherine doesn't have an immediate good option. Her stats mean she's never a bad unit in a physical class but especially in late game she doesn't really shine. Yeah I would have preferred the church units could be recruited at at least the same time on all routes and then just leave on CF. I mean Flayn already does that.

Duscar in CF: Probably absorbed into the Empire system which is actually probably better than their fate under Faerghus. Edelgard cares about merit and action, not background. So at least under her direct supervision Duscar people wouldn't be discriminated in employment or promotion. She's instating new leaders in a lot of regions and honestly a lot of Faerghus nobles are the exact sort she hates so there's a good chance she'd kick Kleinman to the curb. Now she also not the type to install a Duscar leader to the region just because they're from Duscar they'd have to prove themselves to her.

Hilda is a very kind person. She hides it behind her laziness but she's genuinely very warm and compassionate so Edelgard's war and more harsh methods are in direct opposition to who Hilda is as a person. In general most "retainer) characters like Dedue and Hubert can't be recruited outside of their route. Hilda is the exception since she and Claude are just getting to know each other. Mercedes, Ashe, and Marianne all have suffered greatly on a personal level from the crest and nobility system. Alois's prime objective is loyalty to Byleth no matter what path they choose. Additionally Alois is haunted by the people the Church has had him kill.

Yeah the people who say get hit+20 on everyone and armor knight on everyone don't understand the concepts of efficiency and opportunity cost. Uncanny blow is great on mages since magic suck at EP in this game. Bow users (deadeye + +2 bow range + +1 bow range hehe) are the only ones I ever put hit +20 on. Axe users I'm using combat arts and smash on every turn. And if I need to patch up hit on anyone I equip a different battalion.

[chambercommercedaily]

Update 64 - Exxon, Fighting For You! 

In recent years, ExxonMobil has made significant efforts to shift its primarily hydrocarbon-based industry towards renewable energy sources. This includes their acquisition of the Australian Algae Patch and collaborations with Vitol, BMW, and VW to advance the use of biofuel in their engines. RHS is also involved, with the aforementioned companies supporting RHS's upcoming initiative https://docs.google.com/document/d/1SvxRd6NjyEgcpx6fhPbKFVJHI77Fsk-Bjw2dt8vrg2o/edit

[eobdtooluk-blog]

2023 Foxflash ECU Programmer Feedback: Read/ Write/Checksum OK

Here is the newest customer feedback about Foxflash ECU Chip Tuning Tool.

edc15 P+ BENCH Flash & eeprom Start

EDC15C3 (bench)– from Renault Laguna/ Read/Write OK

EDC15C13 (bench) — from Espace IV/ Read/ Write OK

EDC15C4 Full Flash R/W OK – obd-bench with 12v

edc15c13 renault BENCH Flash&eeprom Start

EDC16C1 E+F R/W OK – bench ok.

EDC16C9 bench R/W OK

EDC16C10 Read ok, Write ok, Checksum

Edc16c31 bmw bench r/w ok chck ok

EDC16CP31 BENCH DPF OFF R/W PERFECT

EDC16C3 R/W OBD CHECK OK

EDC16CP33 R/W OBD CHK INJCODE OK

Edc16c34 program disable while uploading, reads ok.

edc16u34. it worked reading and writing bench

EDC16CP35 READ/WRITE OK

EDC16C34 R/W OK Hardcut added & Car started perfectly psa

Edc16c39 can Read and write ok with obd Opel zafira B 1.9cdti 150cv

Edc16c39 fiat ducato obd R/W checksum ok

edc17c06 bmw BENCH, Read ok, Write ok, Checksum ok, car starts

edc17c08 bench ok

Edc17cp20 vag bench r/w ok chck okEcd17c70 obd ok

Edc17cp20, VR ok, write ok vw t6

Esc16c60 bench ok password unlock

EDC17CP01 V6 CDI Sprinter r/w ok bench

EDC7C3 bench r/w ok man bench

EDC17CP06 E+F R/W OK – bench

Edc17cp09 read/write ok chk ok

EDC17C10 Read ok, write OK, checksum ok bench

EDC17C11 bench R/W OK

EDC17Cp39 on Freelander 2 obd read write chk ok

EDC17C41_TC1797_ Bench bed written ok bmw

Edc17cv41 r/w cks ok.

edc17c42 bench R/W ok

Edc17cp44 bench read and write ok

EDC17CP45 BMW X6 D40 bench reading ok

edc17cp45 – “reading” (it is VR) via OBD. No file on DB but ID is working

Edc17c46 R/W bench OK!

edc17c50 TC 1797 BENCH r/w OK Mod Stage 1 with Display Calibration

EDC17CP54 on bench r/w all fine and easy. Cheksum with Winols.

Edc17c56 read ok Bench

edc17c59 BENCH Read ok, write OK, checksum ok opel

edc17c60 psa bench r/w ok

EDC17C64 bench R/W OK

Edc17c66 Mercedes r/w ok bench

Edc17c69 Iveco bench r/w ok chck ok

EDC17C79 Jeep Grand Cherokee full RW include checksum works OK

Edc17c84 r/w ok bench

EDC17C84 Opel vivaro 2018 with system adblue. with module 71

Delphi DCM3.5 R/W OK in JTAG

Dcm6.1 ford(psa) obd r/w ok chck ok

Dcm 6.2 obd ok

DCM6.2V Audi A3 2017 VR/Write ok

Dcm 7.1 boot ok

Crd2 Mercedes not work- read obd WRITE OBD FAIL- r/w ok by jtag

CRD3.10 Full bench read/write (flash+eprom) + auto checksum

Simos 8.10  obd  or boot car not start ecu problem

MEV17.4.2 READ MOD WRITE

ME 7.5 Full R/W , Stage1 all OK

Me7.6.2 opel bench r/w chck ok

ME7.6.3 Bench reading ok

MED9.1 bench R/W OK

medc17 bench R/W ok

MED17.2.5 R/W Ok Seam’s like a stable & Reliable tool, very Internet dependant.

Med 17.5.5 VW Scirocco 1.4 TSI 160CV Bench R/W – OK!

Med 17.7.7 Mercedes r/w ok bench

ME 17.9.6 read flash + eeprom ok

PCR2.1 Read MCU ID, ,Bench mode R/W, Online Patch unlock OBD, Checksum

MD1CP001 MB W213 2018y R/W OK , checksum calculated from the original file.

MD1CP014 bench r/w ok

MD1CS004 read + write OK audi

md1cs003 psa bench ok

Md1cs006 renault r/w ok bench

Mg1cs201 r/w bench ok

Mg1cs003 r/w bench ok

SID201 via OBD, success EGR OFF, read/write + checksum ok

sid206 obd read/write ok

Sid208 r/w ok

SID211 OBD OBDFORD TRANSIT ok

SID 305 tricore 1766 Micro Read/Write Boot Mode ok STG 1 DPF, EGR, DTC OFF.

SID310 READ PASSWORD, READ FLASH,READ EEPPROM, DTC OFF, FLASH WRITE, CHECKSUM

Sid803A PSA full system Clone done. Read in 15min, Write in 15min, Car Start

SID807 evo obd read ok, write mod ok. CHK MANUAL, program did not ask if it should correct or not

PCR2.1 obd vr/unlock/w ok

E83 full mode R/W dtc off, CS ok with ori file

E97 full system R/W ok

E98 bench r/w ok

MB175800 Denso Works Perfectly:)

FoxFlash Read & Write ECU Feedback: Success or Failure