#rifts new west

[megadamagefuckyou]

R.I.F.T.S New West looks like cowboys and robo horsies but honestly it should look like this.

Moebius

[thorsenmark]

If you cry because the sun has gone out of your life, your tears will prevent you from seeing the stars by Mark Stevens Via Flickr: If you cry because the sun has gone out of your life, your tears will prevent you from seeing the stars. Icelandic Proverbs A view looking to the northeast and night skies with the Milky Way overhead. This was while staying in a yurt at an Airbnb outside of Cortez, Colorado. With the clear night skies that evening, I was able to set up my Nikon D850 SLR camera on a tripod and then align it with the Milky Way. The rest was setting an ISO to capture as much light as I could without adding any noise, an appropriate shutter speed to avoid any streaks with the stars, and opening up the aperture to bring in as much light as I could for an image captured. I later used DxO PhotoLab 7 to perform post processing.

[danielnelsen]

current dilemma with my dai solo nightmare run:

im taking advantage of the golden nug so, since im still near the start of the game, i have strong enough armour to block pretty much any physical damage. mages (and demons) are still extremely dangerous and can kill me very quickly.

so...do i do in hushed whispers or champions of the just? i feel like in hushed whispers would be unbelievably difficult because of the mages, but if i do champions of the just then i'll be fighting a lot more mages for the rest of the game.

however, i'll be able to get better gear and abilities later, so i'll probably be better able to deal with mages later than i am now. plus, physical enemies will get stronger and my armour won't be as over-leveled so they'll be hurting me too.

im leaning towards doing champions of the just, but im genuinely asking for any thoughts anyone might have here.

[legionofmyth]

Rifts World Book 15: Spirit West - Adventure Ideas

🎲 Unleash your imagination in Rifts tabletop RPG! Discover thrilling 'Adventure Ideas for Rifts World Book 15: Spirit West.' Forge epic quests and explore the mystical frontier! #Rifts #TabletopRPG #SpiritWest #PalladiumBooks

Rifts Ultimate Edition Rifts First Edition Rifts World Book 15: Spirit West – [PDF]Unleash your imagination in Rifts tabletop RPG! Discover thrilling ‘Adventure Ideas for Rifts World Book 15: Spirit West.’ Forge epic quests and explore the mystical frontier! Explore the captivating world of Rifts with World Book 15: Spirit West by Palladium Books. Immerse yourself in a thrilling adventure set in…

[starttoday01]

Chance to Win a Prepaid Visa Gift Card for the New PS5

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[within-your-eyes-if]

Within Your Eyes Intro Post

DEMO [Last Updated June 22nd, 2024]

You are a Warden, a monster hunter who has come to the Kingdom of Auris which has become the forefront runner in it’s acceptance of magic and supernatural alike within the West Highlands. But when strange happenstances occur, you are called upon not just because of skill, but also because of your condition. A condition you’ve lied about for last 12 years.

Unearth the secrets that magic holds as a new form is discovered.

Befriend or romance those who attempt to worm through the cracks of the mask you wear. Or will you fight to keep them at arms length?

Regardless of where your journey takes you, your feathered friend will be at your side. As he always has been.

This story will be 18+ for the following reasons:

Explicit and erotic intimate scenes

Death, including of a child

Violence, blood and gore

Thoughts of suicide

Mentions of suicide

Self harm

Explicit language

Mental trauma

Horror elements

Feelings of being watched

NOTE: Your character will be pretending to have a disability (blindness), not because of a disorder but out of self preservation.

This list may be updated.

You are running away from your past. As you take a this new job, you're forced to confront it. What vices do you use to cope? Will you learn to rely on others or will your raven be your only source of comfort? Will you feel guilty for your lies? Yours will be a journey of self-forgiveness, or maybe you'll only fall deeper into despair.

Play as a man, woman, or non-binary. Gay, straight, or bi.

Plenty of customization options from physical appearance to clothes.

Φ Admos de Le Wren ─ Male | Draconian | Second-Born

Admos, the Dragon Lord of Auris, ascended to the throne following a devastating conflict with his father, bypassing his older brother's claim. This decision deepened the rift among his siblings. As he enters his fifth year as sovereign, Admos grapples with guilt and uncertainty about his role in the family's discord. Will you help him find clarity or fuel his doubts?

Φ Lyth/Lyari de Le Wren ─ Gender Selectable | Draconian | Tenth-Born

Ly took on the role of Viceroy/Vicereine in Auris and became their brother Admos's Right Hand, playing a vital part in the kingdom's recovery after a conflict with their father. However, an incident they triggered over a year and a half ago almost led to another war, casting doubt on their suitability for their position and their aid to their brother. Will you help Ly grapple with their past actions and uncertainties about their role as Viceroy/Vicereine, or will their internal conflicts remain unresolved?

Φ Leese/Lea van Laere ─ Gender Selectable | Human | Vampire

Born into nobility, Lee's life as the child of prominent figures in Lenia took an unexpected turn when they were turned into a vampire. Forced to leave their home, Lee now wrestles with their new identity, desperately seeking meaning in their existence and if it's worth maintaining.

Is Lee a monster consumed by instinct, or can you help them reclaim their humanity?

Φ Xiang Xiaowen/Xiaodan ─ Gender Selectable | Human

Xiao, an ambassador dispatched to Auris to aid the Dragon Lord in Council matters, fought hard to secure their role. Serving as an unofficial advisor, they frequently share insights to assist Admos. Yet their unwavering dedication to obtaining this position hints at a deeper motivation. Perhaps they will reveal it to you.

Φ Gabriel Duarte ─ Gender Selectable | Human

Assigned to you as an assistant of sorts, the recently knighted guard is searching for their place within the Order. Perhaps their new mission will set them on a path for glory, or sink them beneath the turmoils it takes to obtain.

Φ Hestia ─ She/They | Elf? | Witch

Even the most kind have their secrets.

Φ ???

Poly Routes: Lyth/Lyari and Gabriel | Leese/Lea and Gabriel | Xiaowen/Xiaodan and Hestia

Love Triangle: Admos and ???

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

FAQ

Romance Information Post

Ko-Fi

Tumblr Asks are disabled for the time being.

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WYE will always be free with chapters released once they are finished.

This is a planned trilogy.

Thank you for reading and for your support! ♥

[justhereforxreaders]

The Prince and the Dragon Rider - Part Two: Tempest

Jacaerys Velaryon x dragon rider!reader

Summary: Princess Rhaenyra leads you across the fortress of Dragonstone to reunite with your dragon but the journey becomes more complicated as the night goes on.

Warnings: mentions of blood

soundtrack

part one: the oath

part three: the dawn

part four: the test

part five: precipice

part six: pieces and players

part seven: the rift

The night you left the Pentosi coast, you had no idea what kind of life waited for you across the Narrow Sea but you knew it would be far better than the one you were leaving behind.

More than half of your lifetime and the whole of your dragon's had been spent on the run or hidden away in seaside caves. The known world held many dangers especially for a child. You learned far too quickly however, that your greatest danger was starvation. With no coin to your name and little strength to hunt, you were forced to travel along the coast, learning to fish for both you and your dragon. She had acquired such a taste for fish that even after she had taken flight, she still favored fish over livestock, choosing to scavenge upon fishing vessels.

Once she had grown too large to poach stealthily, she learned to dive below the water for larger prey, hunting what was drawn in by those same fishing boats. Even with this new hunting strategy, sightings of her dark shape beneath the surface could not be avoided, causing the two of you to travel with constant caution and haste.

When the cliffs of Dragonstone first became visible on the horizon, the setting sun was disappearing behind it, making it glow orange. After a full days ride over the sea, you had assumed it was another stop on your journey. Until you saw the dragons flying overhead.

Just their silhouettes upon the darkening sky was enough cause for alarm but your dragon showed no sign of distress at the appearance of her kin. She merely dove down to fly just above the dark waves. Her black scales with sporadic streaks of white were the perfect camouflage for the choppy twilight sea. After circling the island and exploring various coves, she landed in the water, you still clinging to her neck. She gave you a quick moment to prepare a deep breath before diving below the surface.

The salt water stung your eyes as you tried to track where she was taking you but with the sunlight quickly fading, there was no hope of distinguishing your surroundings. Giving up the vain effort, you closed your eyes tight, pressing your face to the back of her head to help you concentrate on holding your breath. Just as you were about to reach your limit, she breaks the surface of a pool within a large cavern. You gasp for air and she swims to the rocky ledge of your new home.

You now find yourself on the polar opposite of your cave; sitting on a plush bed, being served hot food, within the walls of the castle of Dragonstone. Even before setting out west from Asshai, nothing you had ever experienced was as luxurious as these modest commodities.

As you take one last bite of your meal, Princess Rhaenyra stands from her seat at the window and walks towards you.

"Are you ready to go?" She says with the slightest hint of annoyance.

The Princess had offered to take you to the dragonmont to reunite with your dragon after showing you to your chambers within the servants quarters. Though she began to mirror a similar level of exhaustion as your own, she insisted on escorting you herself, seeming very intent on laying eyes on your dragon.

You nod, mouth still full of food, and rise to meet her at the door.

Due to the lateness of the hour, the walk to the dragonmont is mostly silent. Footsteps on stone and the crackle of the torches held by the two kingsguard that escort you are the only sounds that fill the air. When your party approaches the massive doors carved into the mountain, you are met by a trio of people dressed in simple robes that block the path forward.

The Princess exchanges words with the leader of the three in that same foreign tongue as in the throne room. Though the words are completely indecipherable to you, their tone gives you cause to shuffle awkwardly. Both participants gesture towards you throughout the conversation, only furthering your discomfort. They thankfully come to some agreement and move aside for you to enter. All three robed figures watch you pass by with scrutiny before returning to their posts guarding the entrance.

Lacking the courage to endure another unfriendly face, you drop your head, lifting your gaze only enough to follow the hem of the Princess's gown that just barely grazes the ground behind her. It isn't until you pass through an archway and the temperature suddenly drops that you look up to see you have entered a large cave with a platform jutting out into the darkness. The lightning outside can be seen through a large opening to the far left of the platform. It is only after a bright flash from the storm that a dark shape is illuminated at the end of the stone formation.

The kingsguard draw their blades but Rhaenyra orders them to stand down. After her command echoes throughout the vast cavern, a voice calls out from the edge.

"Mother?" It asks, before uttering, "Dracarys."

You are relieved to find familiar sight of Vermax's green scales shimmering by the firelight he emits up into the empty air above. And just below the young green dragon, now fully illuminated by his fire, stands his rider. You take an involuntary step in the Prince's direction but are quickly stopped in your tracks by the authoritative voice of Rhaenyra.

"Jacaerys!" The Princess scolds, "What are you doing here?!"

Vermax takes flight from the ledge and retreats into the abyss while Jace makes his way towards the torch light. Once his is a few short paces away, he takes notice of your face and lets out a quiet gasp before sprinting to your side. When within arms reach, he moves seemingly to embrace you but becomes aware of the curious eyes that surround the two of you. He quickly adjusts his arm to place it on your shoulder instead.

"I am glad to see you," he gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze and leans down ever so slightly to make eye contact with you. His eyebrows knit together and his face becomes serious, trying to communicate a question you can’t quite perceive before he continues, "What are you doing here?"

Inadvertently repeating the same question his mother just asked of him. She steps toward the two of you to repeat her inquiry once more but you speak before she can form the words.

"We were told Tempest was here," your voice now heavy with dread.

"She was," Jace says quickly, trying to soothe your worry, "just briefly but she was here and did not appear to be injured."

"Where has she gone?" The Princess interjects.

Jace tears his gaze from you to answer his mother but his hand lingers on your shoulder.

"I don't know. She left in quite a hurry though so l assumed she went back..." he trails off, turning back to you, unsure of how much you have revealed to his mother. You nod, encouraging him to continue. "I think she went back to their cave to look for y/n."

"How far away are we from the stairs?" You ask hastily.

"The garden is on the other side of the castle grounds but the path should be clear enough to make it there quickly," Jacaerys assures you.

The pair of you turn to Princess Rhaenyra, who quirks a brow and Jace removes his hand from your shoulder.

"Let us make haste then," she declares as she walks towards the exit, cutting right between the Prince and yourself.

Jace opens his mouth to say something to you when Rhaenyra stops suddenly and calls over her shoulder,

"Jacaerys," she turns to the side, back facing you, "walk with me."

She begins walking and Jace gives you an apologetic glance before falling into step beside his mother. You spare one more hopeful look towards the shadows, listening closely for the beat of Tempest's wings, but to no avail. The kingsguard meant to be following behind the party lets out a quiet cough and gestures towards the others. You stride quickly to catch up to them and the kingsguard follows in suit. As you approach, you hear Rhaenyra begin speaking to her son.

"You're meant to be resting," she reprimands, almost playfully, "How did you get down here?"

"I snuck out while the guards changed," he chuckles, "They weren't exactly vigilant when they were told by the maesters I was deep asleep."

The Princess shakes her head and lets out a soft snicker.

"Oh," he jests, "as if you never snuck out to the dragonpit in the middle of the night."

A smile forms on your face as you watch the imposing mask of the Princess melt away as she laughs with her son. Jace had told you many stories of his family, the love he felt for them evident as he shared with you. Witnessing it firsthand, however, was even more heartwarming.

As the company draws near to the exit, a fourth figure now stands among the guards you had encountered on the way in. The figure stands facing away but turns as your footfalls grow louder.

"I wondered where everyone had disappeared to," murmurs the unmistakable voice of Daemon Targaryen. "I worried the little thief might have escaped with hostages."

Jace makes to charge forward but is halted my his mother's arm shooting out in front of him. The mask returns to Rhaenyra's face.

"Daemon," she admonishes, "this is y/n. They have sworn fealty to our house and will do so again in front of the council on the morrow." She lets her words hang in the air for a moment before continuing, "We are escorting them to their camp to make an introduction to their dragon if you wish to join us."

She strolls past him with Jacaerys in tow, leaving the two of you face to face once more. You watch him carefully as you stand rooted to the ground.

"Y/n," Rhaenyra calls without stopping her stride, "let us hurry if we are to achieve a reasonable amount of sleep before the sun greets us."

“After you,” Daemon smirks and gestures for you to walk ahead.

You nod and give him a wide berth as you trot up behind Rhaenyra and Jacaerys, letting out a quiet sigh once the Prince Consort is a comfortable distance away. Jace quickly peeks at you from the corner of his eye but continues forward without a word.

You are led along winding passages and corridors, losing all sense of direction until you pass through a large doorway and enter the open air. The ground still wet from the torrential rain but the clouds finally receding over the sea. As you enter the overgrown remnants of Aegon's garden you hear a faint cry emanating from below.

Jace looks back at you and reaches for a torch off the column nearby. He uses the fire from the kingsguard's torch to ignite his own before stepping forward to take the lead.

"This way," he commands and treks into the weeds.

The cry grows louder and your pace quickens, passing Rhaenyra and the kingsguard. The Prince leads you to a collection of black stone dragons at the edge of the garden. He stops next to one whose wings have been lost to the elements and hands the torch to you. As the others approach, he uncovers a distressed wooden hatch from beneath the tangled vines and throws it open to reveal a narrow stairway carved into the stone below.

With the door wide open, the cries echo from inside and without a second thought, you sprint down into the void. Jace calls after you and a perplexed commotion erupts as you leave them behind but your only thought is on reaching Tempest as fast as your legs can carry you.

With the speed you descend the spiral staircase, the torch struggles to stay lit. Its wavering light scarcely enough to illuminate your feet, which causes you to crumple to the ground when the stairs come to an abrupt end. The torch is thrown from your hand during the fall and finally fizzles out, leaving you in darkness.

Your hands and knees ache as you stand to regain your bearings and a warmth slowly spreads down your shins. Although you have traveled this path from the bottom of the stairs to your camp often enough with Jace, you know that a journey in the dark will likely lead to further injuries. Another cry from Tempest rings out from within the vast cavern and you wince. Despite the agonizing need to reach her as quick as possible, you steel yourself with a breath and wait for the others to catch up.

Thankfully, they wasted little time in following after you and after only a couple quiet moments the passage behind you is filled with the gentle glow of torchlight. Daemon and Jacaerys emerge first followed closely by Rhaenyra and only one of the kingsguard. The other likely standing guard atop the spiral steps. Jace breaks from Daemon and approaches you as you turn to face them.

“Y/n!” He calls, noticing the blood beginning to seep through your trousers, “What happened?”

“I just lost my footing,” you admit sheepishly, reaching down to pick up the extinguished torch and handing it back to Jace.

He spies the abrasions across your palms and offers you the same discreet look of concern from the dragonmont. You quickly hide your hands behind your back as Daemon saunters up to the two of you. He eyes you suspiciously before glancing around the small chamber.

“How did you find this place?” He questions as Rhaenyra steps forward to join the three of you.

“Luke and I discovered this staircase while running through the garden,” Jace answers on your behalf, “I didn’t explore any further into the cave until I saw y/n and Tempest dive below the water near the cliffs just outside.”

Rhaenyra and Daemon look back to you with curiosity until a roar from Tempest brings their attention towards the dark path ahead. The Princess turns to the remaining kingsguard and orders him to stand guard at the base of the steps. Daemon’s gaze returns to you however, a spark of recognition alight in his eyes.

Jace ignites his torch once again and steps between Daemon and you.

“Shall we?” He says to you with a smile as he turns his back to his great uncle, gesturing for you to walk beside him.

Rhaenyra steps into line behind the two of you, once again leaving Daemon at the rear. Tempest’s deafening roars leave little room for conversation as you and your friend expertly guide your guests down the dark stone path. The torchlight glitters atop various pools along the path, revealing the vast expanse of catacombs and caverns below their home. After rounding a corner the path funnels into a narrow crevice, only wide enough for a single person at a time. Your dragon’s cries now shaking the walls with their volume.

You and Jace face each other and he nods once.

“Go on ahead, we’ll be right behind you,” he assures with a small smile.

You return the smile and charge forward through the passage calling Tempest’s name. Her cries come to a stop when she hears your voice and the moment you stumble into the large chamber, you are met with her massive snout which you fall on top of in a tearful embrace.

She gently lifts you away from the wall and sets you down beside your belongings, rumbling beneath your weight.

“You’re alright,” you run your hands across her scales, “we’re alright.”

You slide off her nose and wipe the tears from your eyes just as Jace emerges from the crack in the far wall. Tempest turns and chirps at the familiar face but moves quickly to investigate when Rhaenyra and Daemon enter. A low grumble emits from her chest as she looks over the two newcomers. You run to stand between them but Rhaenyra speaks before you reach the other side.

“Lykiri, Tempest, lykiri.” Her tone is soothing but you can see uncertainty in the Princess’s eyes. She extends a hand into the open air between them.

Tempest lets out a huff and takes a deep breath, watching the Princess carefully with her golden eyes. You run up to the side of her large head and offer a reassuring touch but she continues to stare down the pair.

“Easy,” you coo, “these are our friends.”

You eye Daemon as the last word leaves your mouth, who is too entranced to notice. Tempest inches closer to allow Rhaenyra’s hand to touch her nose. Jacaerys reaches out to places his hand over his mother’s and Tempest closes her eyes. She pulls away and moves to her resting place near your camp, seemingly content with her investigation.

“I thought you said she hatched eight years ago,” Daemon continues to watch Tempest as she perches near the water’s edge, “how is she this large?”

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly, following his gaze, “I didn’t know she was considered so until I came here and met Vermax.”

“It’s possible she grew quickly to adapt during your journey.” Jace offers, slightly defensive, “She has flown leagues farther than Vermax or Syrax for that matter.”

Rhaenyra turns to you and places a hand on your shoulder.

“She’s beautiful,” she says earnestly.

Her compliment takes you off guard.

“Thank you, Princess.” You reply, your heart swelling with pride.

“We are lucky to have the both of you in our service.”

Your face drops as you are reminded of the oath you will swear before the lords come sunrise. The Princess eyes you carefully and you breathe deeply before meeting her gaze.

“The honor is mine.” You say with a bow, filling your words with as much enthusiasm as you can muster.

Seeing the unease in your face as you bow, she moves her hand to hold your chin.

“You are to be a dragonrider of House Targaryen, a title we have not bestowed upon anyone outside our own family. But my son believes you are worthy of it.”

You break the Princess’s gaze to find Jace’s eyes at the mention of him, only to find them already trained on your face. You are only able to meet his eyes for a moment before Rhaenyra brings your attention back to her with a stroke of her thumb across your jaw.

“I hope one day to share his confidence.” She releases your face, allowing you stand upright and she continues, looking around your meager camp, “Regardless, you shall be shown the same hospitality as the other members of our staff.”

You nod, speaking with more confidence, “I am grateful for the opportunity to earn your trust.”

“Gather your things and lets away.” The Princess commands turning towards the pathway back to the surface with Daemon and Jacaerys in tow.

You are struck with a sudden sadness as you look back to Tempest and your belongings scattered around the only place you have called home for more than one night in over eight years.

“May I…” you call after Rhaenyra before she disappears through the narrow gap, “may I fly Tempest to the dragonmont? I cannot bear to leave her down here alone.”

“As you wish,” she grants, a surprising softness to her voice, “I shall send a kingsguard to meet you at the entrance.”

You smile with another small bow, sneaking one more glance in Jace’s direction before wading into the water. The salt stinging at the wounds on your knees and hands.

“Tempest,” you murmur and she leaps up to join you.

You swim to meet her in the deep pool and climb up to your perch behind her head.

“Until the morning,” you call over your shoulder at the trio upon the rocky shore, and they watch you and your dragon dive below the sea, leaving this cave together for the last time.

[dekus-fellow-crybaby]

Nightmare Fuel

Summary: After venturing into the woods and stumbling across a statue, Gravity Falls’ newest resident meets her worse nightmare...or maybe her scariest wet dream.

Requested by @fivvy

Warnings: NSFW. 18+ only. Minors DNI. DARK FIC! This fic contains darker themes such as manipulation, possession, violence, dub/con, and non/con! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK! Aged-up Characters, Bill x reader, Bipper x reader, slight Dipper x reader? (There's some tension), porn with plot, slight MabelxPacifica, asshole!Dipper, mind sex, mind break?, sex pollen-like symptoms?, supernatural elements, horror-like elements, fingering, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, revenge sex, choking, asphyxiation, accidental voyeurism. Lmk if I forgot anything! LAST WARNING! DARK ELEMENTS! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK AND NO MINORS!! AGES IN BIOS!! Seriously guys, it’s kinda messed up and I will block minors!

Word Count: 7.9 k

Gravity Falls. The town just west of weird. And your new home. When you were younger your family used to drive through the small, eccentric town on the way to visit family in Portland. Your parents just loved the scenic route, and the great nature of Gravity Falls was about as scenic as it got. You never stayed in the town long, but the curious corner of the world always drew you in. The people you would meet during your occasional diner stops or the stories you would hear piqued your interest. It drove you towards a love of writing and reading, just searching for vibrant characters that might match the town's local color. Which is why you decide to take a year off college and live amongst the people that initially stirred your curiosity.

Stepping off the bus, the sunlight speckles through the trees, the warmth dusting your cheeks, and you are welcomed back to the town of Gravity Falls. The scent of pine trees and maple surround you as you walk towards the town square, a suitcase rolling behind you. Checking the address on the post-it note in your hands, you make your way to the house on the edge of the woods: the Mystery Shack. It was probably more of a gamble than you should have taken to respond to the rooming ad for a place called the Mystery Shack, but it was the only available housing in the small town, so you'd just have to take your chances.

Skipping the town tour, you make your way to the tourist trap, but you take note of the town as you go. Everything seems perfectly normal. but you hoped that wouldn't remain the case. You needed something interesting to write about, something to spark a flame of inspiration in your head. So far, nothing but your new place of residence seems out of the ordinary. You make it to the Mystery Shack, surprised by the number of cars parked out front. A number of people come in and out of the house, most being led around by a dude in a suit, eyepatch, and fez. Walking closer to what you can only assume to be a tour group, you listen in on the man rifting off facts about the obviously fake attractions.

"And here we have the rock that looks like a face, dudes," the tour guide said.

"But is it a rock or is it a face?"

"No, dude, it's a rock that looks like a face," the tour guide sighs as if he got this question often. "It's-it's not an actual face." This only sparks more controversy for the guide, so you peacefully excuse yourself from the group, bypass the entrance for the indoor Mystery Museum, and trudge around to the backdoor. You're pleased to find no tourists there. From the window, you notice a few people filing around the room and you hope they were the actual residents of the house/tourist attraction. Knocking on the door, you are almost immediately met by a bubbly brunette answering with a brooding blond watching intently behind her.

"Uh, hi, I'm—"

"Are you our new roomie?!" She beams, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she ushers you in before you even give your answer. Once you’re in the room, you take in each of the girls' features. The brunette smiles at you excitedly, a pair of perfectly straight teeth flashing between glossy pink lips. Her curly hair tumbles down her back, the front of her bangs are held back by a dark pink headband which matches a pair of leggings she wore beneath a white tee with a multicolored shooting star on the front. The blond behind her has straight hair, straight-cut bangs brushing over her long, mascara-covered lashes, a light purple dusting of eyeshadow matching a purple jersey shirt with a white diamond on the front over a pair of black leggings along with a pair of big, white hooped earrings.

"Yeah, yes, hi," you breathed out, apprehension and shock in your tone as you’re pulled in. "Are you Mabel?"

"Actually...I'm your new roommate!" She squeals before deadpanning with a, “But yeah, my name is Mabel.” You can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm.

"Well, it's really nice to meet you, Mabel," you say genuinely, a sigh of relief passing your lips along with a giggle.

"This is Pacifica, my gf and our other roommate," Mabel introduces. The blond nods her head, not saying a word as Mabel does all the talking. "And my brother also lives here but he's kinda...busy right now. He's sorry he couldn't be here for the greeting party though!" You brush that off. "How about we give you the tour and then we can get to know each other."

She grabs one of your two bags as she leads you to your room: a dark space with a slanted ceiling, a stained-glass window in the far-left corner which offers a muted colored light, a furnace in the far right, a bed at the center of the left wall, and a closet to the left of the bed. It’s perfect for a shut-in writer such as yourself. Mabel tells you that the room used to belong to her Grunkle Stan who was travelling the seas with his brother, her Great Uncle Ford.

Dropping the bags onto the bed, the three of you made the rounds of the house. Mabel and Pacifica share the attic, Mabel saying she has sentimental attachment to the space. While walking through their home, Pacifica tells you how she had grown up as a rich only child. Her parents had fallen on a bit of "hard times" after her dad made a bad investment in some bonds and they had to sell their mansion to the town kook, Old Man McGucket, and, yes, that is how he prefers to be called. After living with her parents until she was legally able to leave, her now living with Mabel and her brother in the Mystery Shack was not only convenient but is also like a middle finger to her oppressive parents. You learn all of this before you even make it to the living room. You really like how talkative Mabel is. Her extrovert personality counteracts your quiet tendencies.

Coming to Mabel's twin brother's room—who you found out is named Mason but is nicknamed Dipper—it’s a mess. Dirty laundry, papers, and books all scattered over every surface. You barely notice the shape of the bed or couch underneath the piles of clothing and maps. The only thing that seems to be somewhat in order was the bookshelf. It’s stacked to the brim with books except for the top shelf, where only three books rest, all with their covers facing out. Each one is a deep blue, a drawing of a silver Pinetree overlayed with a golden Big Dipper constellation and underneath is printed golden numbers 1, 2, 3. They look like journals, though you had no idea what information could be handwritten there. You gather that he’s either a brainiac or a maniac, and neither tend to have very clean tendencies. But you aren’t one to judge, knowing you could get the same way in the midst of an inspired breakthrough. Your muse could work in mysterious and very annoying ways: ergo the entire reason for moving to Gravity Falls.

"Yeah, my brother tends to be a bit...hazardous when he gets in the work zone," Mabel explains sheepishly. "If it's not his room, it’s the basement that's a mess. Or both. Mostly both."

You’ve stayed relatively quiet the entirety of the tour but your curiosity itches at you brain, prompting an inquisitive, "What does your brother do?"

"Science research...of sorts," she answers through thin lips.

"Of sort?" Your brows scrunch together at the vague implication.

"Yeah, I'm not entirely sure the specifics of his work, just that he has a few Ph.D.'s," she shrugs, a nervous laugh bubbling in her throat, as if it wasn't a great feat to have multiple Ph.D.'s before the ripe age of twenty-four.

"Wow, that's...really impressive," you breath, not knowing exactly how to respond to her nonchalance over the subject.

"Yeah, proud of my bro-bro, just wish he would wash his clothes," she chuckles, faking(?) a grimace and pulling a laugh out of you and Pacifica.

The rest of the tour went on like this, sharing stories and taking cracks at one another, giving you an idea of the nature of the relationship between your new housemates. Mabel went on and on about how much the house means to them, and how much their great uncles mean to them as well. It’s really sweet, and you believe that you’ve found yourself some interesting characters to write about.

Mabel is really nice and, while Pacifica had a very hard exterior, you can see her softer side in the moments when she lets herself slip out of that tough exterior to laugh for Mabel. They both help you unpack quickly, even brightening up the space with a lamp Mabel had decorated herself—crystals hot glued to the base, refracting a cascade of rainbows around the room. You feel so welcomed already.

An ear-shattering bang shakes the house, dust drizzling from the ceiling and effectively startling you awake.

"Fuck!" A voice screams. You follow it with a heart-pounding urgency, leading you to the gift shop where smoke billows into the room. The vending machine swings open, and you startle, a small squeak leaping out of your throat. A figure emerge from the smoke, coughing and waving his arms with a cap in one hand to clear out the black cloud surrounding him. When the smog clears enough for you to get a good look at the man, the first thing you saw was the mop of curly brown hair, much like Mabel's, that is powdered with soot and debris. His pale skin is marred by the caking of dirt over his exposed arms and cheeks, yet the dark circles underneath his eyes were still prominent despite only being illuminated by the moonlight seeping in through glass windows. The dark grayish-green tee with a black question mark on the front was also frosted in a layer of powder. The red flannel tied around his waist seems relatively unscathed until he uses the material to wipe what is still on his face. His arms lifted to rub off the grime, showcasing the ink markings on his forearms. You can’t help but stare at him and the opened vending machine entrance, mouth hanging open at the scene. You wonder if you’re dreaming.

"Trying to catch flies, sunshine?" His deep voice rattles. You know he’s speaking to you despite him refusing to look your way.

"Excuse me?"

"No?" He smugly questions, the sarcasm dripping from his voice that is riddled with sleep deprivation and husky from his dust-coated throat. He finally looks over at you, allowing you to meet his chocolate brown eyes. "Then you should close your mouth." You wrinkle your nose at the snark of his tone. Before you can reply, the girls come down from the attic.

"Nice going, Dipstick, what did you blow up this time?" The blonde grumbles. You make a mental note to never wake the girl from her beauty sleep lest you receive the same venomous tone.

"None of your business, Pacifica," he sighs.

"I don't know why you're in such a piss mood when you were the one to wake everyone up at three in the morning, moron," she grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest and rolling her eyes so far back into her head that you’re sure she caught a glimpse of her brain.

"I know that you, more than anyone, need your precious beauty sleep, Pacifica, but my lab is not any of your concern," Dipper snaps back.

"Shut up, Dipshit."

"Buy my silence then, rich bitch."

The tangible tension in the room surrounds the house residents as Pacifica's eye twitch and her nostrils flare. Pacifica, not wanting to put up with his attitude any longer at three in the morning, mumbles a quiet, "Whatever," and turns on her heel, heading back upstairs. You can’t help but admire the great restraint on her part.

"Mason, go to sleep," Mabel utters firmly, tiredly, pinching the bridge of her nose in annoyance as she speaks. "You're a dick when you haven't slept in a few days." He knows better than to talk back to Mabel when she calls him out like that, especially so when there is a significant lack of a nickname.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he groans, his hand dragging down his face, smearing black back onto the skin he'd just half-heartedly cleaned off.

"And you will apologize tomorrow." It’s not a question from Mabel, the no-nonsense tone leaving little room for debate.

"Yeah, I will," he mutters, followed by a nearly silent, "When Waddles learns to fly."

"Well, he already did," she argues, leaving you absolutely confused. "I'll see if I can't get her to apologize for the ‘dipshit’ comment but yours was worse so you have to make the first move."

"I know the drill, Mabel." She nods at his compliance, turning to you.

"I'm sorry that this is your first impression of my brother," she says sheepishly, though her tone scolds him still.

"This is the Ph.D. guy?" You choke out the inquiry softly towards Mabel, shock clear in your tone. She shrugs, nods, then goes off to find Pacifica.

"You must be the new roommate," he smiles then, though it’s more condescending than friendly. Despite that, he still holds out his hand for you to shake. "Nice to meet you. Stay out of my lab."

"Noted," you scoffs, taking his hand as if in a daze.

"Nice pjs," he smirks, instantly turning your cheeks red as you remember what you wore to bed. Nothing more than a thin T-shirt that barely covers your backside. You snatch your hand back from his hold. "Oh, and welcome to Gravity Falls."

Looking around, you take in the black-and-white space surrounding you. The trees still, despite the breeze grazing your skin; the birds hover in the air, wings wide spread; the wildlife turn their heads towards you yet don't move an inch otherwise. It’s like walking into a vintage photograph. Your mind wanders as your feet carry you deeper into the forest, following the gentle stream. The only color illuminating the monochrome forest is yourself and the image of a floating yellow-

"Mabel! I've said it once, I've said it a million times! I don't want any Mabel juice!" The sound of Pacifica's shrieking voice stirs you out of sleep, pulling you from the odd dream.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you walk into the den full of commotion. "What the hell is Mabel juice?" You ask sleepily, mid-yawn. You’re met with coos about how adorable the action was from Mabel, to which you blush and sheepishly wave off, already getting the sense that Mabel found cuteness in almost anything.

"Mabel juice!" Mabel announces proudly and far too loudly for so early in the morning. "A beverage of my own invention!" She shows off, presenting the drink in question that looked like a hot pink choking hazard. "Want some?"

"Hmm," you hum in thought at her hopeful intent. "Thank you, Mabel, but I think I'll stick with coffee. I do appreciate the offer though." She just shrugs, still beaming, and pours herself a glass. The sweet smell of pancakes wafts around the room as you sit at the kitchen table. "Something smells good."

"It's my ultra-chocolate-chip pancakes with sprinkles!" Mabel announces, sliding a plate over to Pacifica with a nicely decorated array of rainbow colors over a cloud of whipped cream in the shape of the Smiledip puppy.

"Wow, is this what breakfast is always like here?" You wonder aloud, Pacifica shrugs, hesitates in thought, and then nods.

"How many pancakes, Sunshine?" Mabel hums, the nickname falling easily from her lips. She obviously makes attachments very quickly.

"One, please," you say politely. Mabel is quick to oblige, whipping up similar masterpieces that look like a kitten judge, complete with chocolate syrup whiskers, a powdered sugar powdered wig, and a bacon gavel. "Mabel, this is really incredible." You can’t even remember the last time you had a hot breakfast. Or any breakfast for that matter. You didn't exactly practice a habit of self-care while taking your college courses...or any basic needs really like a regular eating schedule or exercise.

"Why thank you, Cutie-Patootie." You would respond if your mouth wasn't currently stuffed with the bacon gavel. "Sleep well?"

"For the most part." You nod slowly before your mind drifts back to the three a.m. incident. "Can I ask you something though?"

"Shoot."

"Is your brother always like that?" Pacifica snorts derivatively beside you, as if laughing at her own inside joke echoing in her head.

"Well, if you mean pushing the reasonable boundaries of his own health to finish his current hyper fixation…then yes," Mabel sighs, offering a sad smile. "But the bitchiness, no. He’s usually sweet, just sassy. But he tends to slip into bitchy mode when he hasn't gotten enough sleep…which now that I think about it is whenever he’s on the edge of a breakthrough…So to answer your question: yes."

"Hmm, that seems so stupid, though," you hum around a mouthful of the sugar drowned pancake bite.

"Pardon?" The voice comes from behind you, startling you with a bite of pastry cat judge halfway in your mouth. You would have choked if you'd taken a bigger bite. Turning your head, syrup almost dripping off your pouting bottom lip, you see Dipper. He obviously showered which was quite the improvement from last night. Now that his face is clean you can take notice of his features. You remember the big brown eyes but now, without the smudges of grease and grime on his forehead, you notice the pair of bushy eyebrows and fluffy curls that rest above those chocolate orbs. It looks like he hasn't shaved in a while, a shadow of scruff shading his chin. Instead of the question mark tee from last night, he’s wearing a dark blue sweater with the words "Disco Girl" in bubbled sky-blue font that reminds you of a 70s aesthetic mood board which he accompanies with a pair of grey sweats. You think it an odd outfit choice for the moody man in front of you, the juxtaposition boggling your mind. He cocks his head and raises a bushy brow in question when you take your time to answer.

"I mean, it just doesn't seem very productive," you shrug when you finally shallow the breakfast bite that was stuffing your mouth, the hypocrisy dripping off your words as much as the syrup. "When you don't get enough sleep your neuroreceptors lose their sensitivity to serotonin and norepinephrine which leads to impaired cognitive function. I thought you were supposed to be a genius or something." You mumble the last part while sipping on your cup of coffee. Pacifica snorts out of laugh, Mabel has to slap her hand over her mouth to cover the traitorous smile, and Dipper stares at you with his nose wrinkled and his brows drawn together, taking in your words and frowning at the implication.

"I'm going back to bed," he announces, immediately turning on his heel. “Save me a pancake gnome, Mabel!”

"Are you a science buff too, Sunshine?" Mabel asks once Dipper has turned the corner. Peering past the wall, you check to make sure he was really gone.

"Nope," you popped the 'p'. "I got that off a tv show. I just wanted to stump him." All three of you erupt in laughter.

"Okay, I’ve decided to like you," Pacifica giggles, leaning back in her chair and giving you an approving once over. "On a trail basis, of course. We’ll see how it goes."

"Honored," you chuckle.

"So, what’s the plan for the rest of the day?" Mabel asks. She turns the stove off, carrying over a plate with a llama pancake for Pacifica and her own her has a pancake shaped like a dolphin…with muscular arms instead of fins?

"Well, I wanted to check out the town a bit," you answer with a mouthful of the syrupy breakfast. "Maybe walk around the forest a bit…Any good landmarks to check out?”

"Want a tour guide?"

"Yeah, that’d be great, Mabel," you answer gratefully.

The three of you make a day of exploring the town. Mabel and Pacifica show off every aspect and share all the quirky attributes of the small town. Considering the size of the town, the tour doesn't take long. The last stop is Greasy's Diner where Pacifica works. The three of you eat lunch before Pacifica clocks into work. Mabel offers to walk with you back to the Mystery Shack before she goes back out to the craft shop for more knitting supplies. You politely decline, saying that you can find your way back on your own. You part ways and you take your own time strolling back to the house, taking the long way through the mysterious woods you've been itching to explore.

After living with the trio for a few weeks, you caught on to a few things. Mabel is a being of pure chaos, but she makes it work. She channels most of her energy into her creativity, her job consisting of running an Etsy shop selling knitted sweaters. Pacifica is actually a very chill person. She was rather reserved, and you'd catch her people watching often, especially when Mabel's friends Candy and Grenda would come over. She would often observe them with a small smile playing on her glossy lips. She seemed like the perfect balance for Mabel's wildness. And Dipper hates your guts. You're not sure why, but you frequently found him glaring at you. You're not sure what you did, but the guy always has an evil eye for you. Especially when you get back from your daily walks through the woods.

That's another thing about your time in Gravity Falls that seems odd to you. You're not sure why, but you're drawn to the wilderness. It's as if something in the forest was calling out to you.

Your mind wanders as your feet carry you deeper into the forest. Your surroundings blur and blend into the verdant brush or golden glow of the setting sun. You don't even realize how long you've been traveling until your limbs begin to ache and nothing around you is familiar anymore. You hear and see nothing resembling that of a human touch, only the steady thrum of the natural world you've stepped into. The final rays of the evening sun light your path as you venture further, a meager attempt to find your way back to civilization. However, you curiously find yourself stumbling upon a mossy mass of stone, and time seems to slow down the moment you do. The trees still, despite the breeze grazing your skin; the birds hover in the air, wings widespread; the wildlife turn their heads towards you yet don't move an inch otherwise. Coming closer, you see a scrawny statue arm reach out to you welcomingly. Your eyes travel over the attached body, the monument shaped like a personified pyramid. You tiptoe around the monolith, studying the odd artwork. A breeze sweeps over you, a shiver working its way down your spine. There's a sudden subtle tickle at the back of your brain and a slight paranoia settles across your skin. Your eyes find the granite gaze of the one-eyed creature, and goose bumps bloom over your flesh. You don't understand it, but you feel a simultaneous urge to flee as well as an overwhelming draw towards the inanimate figure. The contradiction creates a harsh turmoil within you, and you feel frozen, granting your surroundings the perfect opportunity to whisper advice into the wind. You can almost hear an audible "Run!" from the wood, but you can't bring yourself to follow the orders. Instead, your hand hesitantly reaches out to the outstretched hand, your fingers gingerly grasping the stone and wrapping your digits around the stony hand. However, just as your palm settles against the carved rock, fingers grip your wrist and yank you away, pulling you back into a hard chest. And suddenly, time is back on track. You're ripped from your daze as you're spun around to meet a pair of frantic chestnut eyes.

"What did you do?" he screams, shaking you by the shoulders. His face goes pale, deathly so, and the new ghostly shade causes the dusting of freckles over his nose and cheeks to drain along with his rosy completion. You unconsciously frown at that realization.

"What?" you mutter in a trance, your mind rousing slowly from the mental fog.

"What did you do?" he repeats in a panic, the desperation in his voice snapping you out of your stupor.

"Nothing!" you squeak out in defense.

"You don't touch this!" he wails in your face. "Don't ever touch this!"

"I won't!" you cry out, hands pushing at his shoulders and clawing at his fingers gripping painfully at your arms. His eyes are searching, scanning your face and person manically. Looking for what, you don't know. But he stares into your eyes as if expecting something new. Well, new to you, at least. You get the feeling that whatever he thinks he'll find swimming in your irises is something that he is plenty familiar with. When he seems satisfied enough, he pushes you away softly. Instead, he turns to gaze at the granite figure once more. A shaky hand cards through his curly bangs, showing off the constellation of freckles that were previously hidden. The movement nearly nudges his hat off his head, letting it rest haphazardly on his head. After a moment, it seems as though he settles the argument that has been playing out in his head. He grabs your bicep and starts dragging you back to the house, ignoring your protests.

When you make it back to the Mystery Shack, Dipper drags you through the attraction side of the house, stopping in front of a vending machine. He punches in a code before pushing you through the entrance that reveals itself. You're welcomed into a dark, dusty hallway lit only by a gas lantern. You then ride down in a creaking elevator, watching the numbers change through broken display glass. Once the metal elevator gate opens up again, another room is unveiled, and you soon realize that it's the basement laboratory, the one that he specifically, in no uncertain terms, told you to stay out of. You believe it was the first sentence he said to you, actually.

This room is by far more well-kept than his bedroom, but it also seems more lived in. There are contraptions, books, papers, and writing utensils scattered over every surface, but it at least seems like there is controlled chaos.

He maneuvers you to sit on an uncomfortable wooden stool in front of a wall of monitors and computer keyboards. You don't know why you've let him direct you so easily thus far, but you might be more afraid of what would happen if you resisted. He seemed so shaken, unstable even after you touched the statue.

You nearly jump out of your skin as you feel cold metal atop your scalp. You whip around to see Dipper attempting to fit a rusty colander with tubes sticking out of it over your head. You jump up finally, drawing a line in the sand.

"What the hell is going on?" You screech, a heaviness weighing on you as the fog is finally gone and you begin to understand the possible gravity of the situation.

"Relax," he sighs. "It's a cranium scanner. It's harmless. It's just meant to scan your thoughts."

You scoff. "Why do you need to do that? Why should I believe that's what you say it is? Why were you so freaked out about that statue? Why were you even there? Were you following me? You need to work on your communication because you just drag me down here and try to hook up some terrifying machine to me without my permission and without explaining and this is freaking me the fuck out!"

His jaw ticks with every word that quickly leaves your lips. Silently, he lifts the device to his head and fits it on his scalp. The moment he does the monitor comes to life. Green words dance across the screen and mumbles buzz from the speakers. You see and hear phrases like "Fuck, this girl is annoying...I need to run these tests...We have to hurry...gotta make sure he's not back...keep everyone safe, have to keep everyone safe...Man, I'm starving...When was the last time I did laundry?...Nah, that's a waste of time...Disco girllll, coming throughhhh, that girl is youuu...Shit, now that I look at her she's kinda cut—" He rips the machine off his head and clears his throat before shrugging his shoulders and waving his hands as if to say "I told you so" in a single motion. "See? Harmless. Now put this on."

You shake your head. "I still need an explanation."

He sighs out in frustration, taking the stool for himself as he runs a trembling hand over his exhausted features. "Look, this town...it's not normal, okay? There are things here...things that can't be explained...including that statue." You stare at him tentatively, noticing the way his fingers fidget together and his brow shines with sweat. "Just...do this and we will never speak of this again." You watch him for a moment, trying to gauge whether the knot in your stomach is intuition or just nerves over his odd behavior. You don't think you can trust him...but you feel like he needs this...whatever it is. And you hope that it'll calm his erratic behavior. Plus, you're a little amazed by the mindreading device, and you kind of want to know if it's accurate or not. You cautiously step forward, nodding minutely. He rises from the seat and allows you to take it. You do, wiggling around a bit to get comfortable on the incredibly irritating wood panels.

"Can I at least get a better chair?" you grumble.

He actually chuckles, a breath of relief leaving his lips as he nods. He drags an old, velvet-upholstered chair that sits next to a chess table. He smacks the cushion and allows a layer of dust previously caked on the fabric to fly into the air. You can live with it more than the splintering stool. You settle into the seat and allow Dipper to place the appliance on your head.

First comes the shock as all your thoughts are displayed on the monitor at a mile a minute, including the thoughts of your shock. Next comes the processing as you watch Dipper take a seat and start scribbling notes as he observes the monitors. You watch as every one of your thoughts is displayed and you begin to feel exposed as every one of your anxieties are advertised. Taking a deep breath, you let your eyes flutter close, trying your best to relax.

The next moment you open your eyes again something feels off. You scrunch your brow as you look around the room, trying to figure out what's different. Looking over to Dipper, you notice that he's stopped writing. Instead, he sits staring up at the screen. You miss how the screen no longer projects your every thought and only produces static. Your skin bubbles with pins and needles, a sudden chill filling your bones as Dipper remains unmoving with his chin resting on his intertwined fingers. You can't see his face and that alone unnerves you as the silence persists.

You hesitate to speak. "Dipper?"

His hands separate, palms placed flat on the keyboard top. Other than his arms moving, nothing else does. The anxiety is slowly pressing into your chest as you patiently wait for his next action or word. You're beginning to think you should run.

"Y'know," he starts. His voice sounds different, higher pitched, and echoing slightly. "The human mind is such a delicate thing...so fragile and easy to manipulate." He stands then but still doesn't face you. When he turns towards you slowly, his features backlit by the sinister green glow of the monitor, his movements are casual, and he leans back against the desktop with his arms crossed. You can see his eyes. They're different from the chocolate chip orbs that you saw before. Now his pupils consume the entirety of his irises, and it seems as if they're slanted like cat eyes. They almost glow yellow. They nearly remind you of...

He laughs suddenly, wobbily stalking towards you as he shakes his head mockingly. His voice morphs as he continues to make the maniacal sound. It becomes high and pitchy, echoing a shrill, unsettling quality in the sinister cackle that makes your stomach drop. "I mean, look at you! Look at how easy it was to lead you to this moment. You didn't even fight it!" Your hair stands on end at his words and your limbs tremble as you're reminded that you were worried that this would happen. Is it possible to tell yourself 'told you so'? "You just followed me through the woods. I didn't even have to trick you into taking my hand, you curious little thing!" You flinch as Dipper cages you between him and the seat, his face inches from yours as his eyes study you.

"What are you talking about?" You squeak out, your voice finally working once again. Now that he's so close, you know exactly where you've seen such odd eyes before. The statue in the woods.

"Ahh, there it is," he giggles. A hand comes up and grips your chin between his thumb and index. He shakes your head from side to side while pouting at you derisively. "Figure it out?"

"What—how?"

"Hmm, maybe not," he chuckles. He taps a finger into your temple slowly, but the gentle touch feels far more frightening to you, as if it's the calm right before the raging storm. "And here I thought you were a smart girl." His voice has morphed once again, two voices bleeding into one. You hear Dipper's voice being overtaken by that discordant tone that he laughed at you with. His eyes drag down your body then, a darkness seeming to seep into those unsettling ellipse pupils. "It's always odd to look through two eyes. Everything seems so much more...third dimensional. Much more graphic. For instance," his hand cups your throat, the touch so gentle and soft, but there was an obvious threat there, "if I squeeze, I'd be able to see your skin turn red and maybe even blue if I cut off your air for long enough." He absently chuckles, as if lost in the image of what he's imagining. He leans in closer, running his nose along your jaw. "I'd be able to see your veins popping out. Maybe I'd feel your windpipe crushing too." His eyes drift up to yours, as if only now remembering that you're there. He offers a smile that could possibly resemble something sweet, but it only turned your stomach. "Don't worry, Sunshine," he whispers, gently pecking your cheek, "that's not what I want."

"What do you want then?" you ask, your voice surprisingly harsh despite how your insides knot up and your throat feels as if it's closing up.

He chuckles, shaking his head as he pulls his gaze away from your temptingly delicate throat.

"Just saying hi to an old friend," he answers, releasing his hold on your neck and placing his hands on either side of your head. As he leans into you it's as if you're witnessing a real-life glitch as the man in front of you shifts from Dipper to a lanky, tan blonde. Wild locks peek out from a tiny top hat atop his head and sweep over his bangs that cover one of his eyes. He'd look like a normal person if he weren't wearing such a predatory grin that reminds you more of a monster instead of a man, the ethereal yellow glow that radiates off his skin, or the cracks at the edges of his face with a galaxy peeking through the unnatural jagged breaks of flesh. But just as quickly as the image of the new man appeared, it was replaced by Dipper once again. He wiggles his fingers in a small wave. "Isn't that right, Pine Tree?" He stares into your eyes but it's as if he's looking through you, instead. He's not talking to you.

Suddenly, his fingers clamp over the nape of your neck, the painful pressure causing your muscles to tense and you're at his mercy. He uses this to throw you towards the dusty couch along the wall. Now that you're out of his immediate vicinity you try to get up and run but he moves like lightning and he's over you in an instant.

"Sorry, Sunshine," he says as he swings a leg over yours, locking your body in place as it's trapped between his thighs. The image of his body continuously glitches from Dipper to the person you saw before. Your arms thrash as you squirm and kick and try to get away, but he pays no mind to your struggle, capturing your wrists easily in his grasp. His fingers dig into your skin as he grips your jaw painfully. "It's nothing personal. Well, not towards you, at least." He laughs as if he said something so funny, an inside joke only for him. "Actually, I should be thanking you. You freed me, your pretty little mind is going to be my new home. And in light of that, I think you deserve a little treat, huh?" Despite your struggle, the man easily held you down with a hand wrapped around your wrists. His other hand smooths down your sides, goosebumps raising in the wake of his touch. His fingers dig into your cheeks as he presses an open-mouthed kiss against your lips, his tongue slipping in and scavenging your mouth. And the taste of his tongue rubbing against yours is…intoxicating.

It’s like the sweetest of ambrosia seeping into your tastebuds. You feel like you should be fighting more, struggling harder against the man's advances. You feel the way your veins fill with ice at the realization of what he is planning to do. But your mind feels foggy, your movements sluggish and out of your control; the same way you felt while walking in the woods. Your mind is only consumed by the taste of his lips and how it fills your every being. You need more. Your skin feels hot, burning but in the best ways possible. The feeling slowly begins to thaw the ice in your bloodstream as his touch lights your nerves. You vaguely hear the light chuckle in his voice as your lids flutter halfway and you focus on the featherlike trail his fingertips left over your skin.

You open your mouth, but no words leave your lips, and that shrill laugh rings out again.

"See?" he coos, a mixture of Dipper and the other high-pitched voice resonating through the small room. "So easy." His hand releases your wrists, but your limbs stay in place, unmoving even with their newfound freedom. His thumbs knead into your sides as they slip underneath your shirt, slowly rolling the fabric up your body. "Bet Pinetree is squirming in his seat right now. Better give him a show, huh, Sunshine?" Despite every alarm bell in the back of your mind going off, you find yourself agreeing with the strange entity, knowing nothing but the need for more, more, more. His lips curl up into a sinister smirk as he watches the confusion etch into your brows but you do nothing to stop him.

His shirt is ripped over his head in an instant, displaying Dipper’s pale skin and the curly brown hair of his happy trail before his image shift into a mirage of the other man. Golden brick-like tattoo lines and crack of glowing galaxies along his body mar the perfectly tan skin of the unfamiliar man. And the glitches stop, you notice. He is no longer Dipper. He is only the fabricated personified image of the statue in the woods.

Dark fingers the look like they were dipped in ink and absorbed up to his elbows drag over your frame, cutting away each scrap of clothing covering your body. They fall away so smoothly, as if they were merely delicates drapes just waiting for a breeze to brush them away in a gentle sigh. You want to move your hands and cover yourself but you can’t bring your limbs to listen. They belong to him now. All of you belongs to him now. And the smirk on his face tells you he knows that.

"Wish I had a real body to truly enjoy this, y'know?" He murmurs, gaze hungrily roving over you. He unhurriedly brings himself to lay on the couch chest down between your legs, the dark tendrils of his hands curling below your hips as his head nuzzles into the side of one of your plush thighs. His hair is soft, you notice. Softer than any earthly object. And you are choosing to focus all of your attention on that fact rather than the hungrily look he gives you. "But taste is more of a mental construct, isn’t it? I don’t need a real tongue to thoroughly enjoy a meal." It’s the only warning you receive before a devilish tongue is ravishing your inner walls. Despite his initial nonchalance, he moves quickly to pick you apart with only one muscle. Your eyes flutter shut at the pleasure but just as q uickly, a fist closes around your throat and your eyelids fly open once again. "Eyes on me." And you listen, keeping your eyes on the golden iris trained in you as your jaw drops open in a silent scream while he brings you to completion under his skilled tongue. You don’t make a sound until his hand claps down in your thigh, signaling the need for an audible response to your climax. You oblige, letting a high-pitched moan escape your lips. He looks satisfied enough as he comes off of you with a wolffish grin.

You keep your eyes trained on him as he leans over you once again, as if you are incapable of closing them again. You’re not entirely sure if that inability is because of your own will or because of his command. Either way, you watch as the man hovers over you, causing you to jerk when his cock surprisingly taps your sensitive entrance. You look down then, watching the angry red, mushroom head sliding between your folds. Your body seems conflicted, trying both to get away from the friction and seeking to catch the bulbous tip on your weeping opening. You realize that he’s teasing you, however. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know that he won’t do anything until you beg for it. He wants you to beg for it.

You listen to his sinister chuckle, the maddening sound bouncing inside your head…or are you both already inside your head…?

"Oh, you figured it out, Sunshine!" He chuckles in that echoing voice of his. "Now you know what I want, so do it." Your mouth opens without your permission but no words escape. "Oh, c’mon, Sunshine. I know you want it too…just give in."

"Please," the word is barely audible as it escapes your lips, but he hears it, perking up at the sound.

"Please what?"

"Please…please fuck me!" You can’t keep the whine out of your voice as you finally plead for what this has all been building up to. You don’t know this man—Creature? Ethereal being?—or what kind of spell he put on you. All you know is that you need it. Everything will be better once you feel his cock pummeling in and out of you. And that’s exactly what he does, plunging into you the second the last syllable leaves your lips.

The stretch is painful and you aren’t sure if the scream you release is because of the pain of his dick tearing through you or the pleasurable drag you feel on your inner walls. It’s like you want to scream, cry, push him out, but you can’t. You can only take it, take it, take it, just as he orders you to while he snaps his hips into you. You realize that you are crying, but again, you have no idea if the tears are from the wonderful stimulation or the searing shame of this moment. And somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder if Dipper knows. You ask yourself what he thinks of you in this moment and if you even care when you’re being speared on a fat cock.

Again that demented laughter rings in your ears, reminding you of the demon you’ve officially sold your soul to that’s treating your body like his personal property. Maybe that’s his now too, along with your sanity. You can’t seem to say much besides moans and whines and pleas for something you’re not sure you want.

"Oh, I really wish you could see her face right now, Pinetree," he giggles, as if talking to himself. "You’d fucking love it. I know I do." He chuckles then, like he made an inside joke before his hand curls around your throat and makes sure your eyes are on him solely. And he speaks but not to you, to something he’s looking at through you. "But I really wish I could see your face right now. You getting off on this, Little Dipper? I bet you are. Freaks like you and me, we gotta enjoy these little moments when we get them." His grip tightens on your throat then and the panic sets in again. Whatever it was that lulled you into a false state of complacency is gone. You feel the oxygen struggling to fill your lungs as his hips snap faster in and out of you, his lanky fingers bullying your button as you’re starting to swim in asphyxiation.

There’s a twinkle in his eye that was never there before as he watches you struggle. You realize that his sadistic demon is getting off more on torturing you than he has this entire time. The smile that spreads across his face is one you know will haunt your very being. And you hate yourself as his digits circling your clit brings you to release just as your vision blackens at the edges. You barely register the warmth flooding your insides as you’re finally allowed to close your eyes.

You wake again with a start, your body shooting up in the chair again, the odd helmet once again gracing your crown. Your eyes land on Dipper whose back is turned to you and you wander if the nightmare is only restarting again. But when he turns around, you see the dark dusting of color on his cheeks and know that this isn’t the demon you just dealt with. But if the boner in his jeans is anything to go by, you do know that he watched the whole thing.

Dipper clears his throat, awkwardly shifting as he faces you, his hands fruitlessly hovering over his crotch and his eyes refusing to meet yours. "Umm," he squeaks. "I think we need to talk."

[probablyasocialecologist]

Since he took office as prime minister a second time in 2009, that same Netanyahu developed and advanced a destructive, warped political doctrine that held that strengthening Hamas at the expense of the Palestinian Authority would be good for Israel. The purpose of the doctrine was to perpetuate the rift between Hamas in Gaza and the Palestinian Authority in the West Bank. That would preserve the diplomatic paralysis and forever remove the “danger” of negotiations with the Palestinians over the partition of Israel into two states – on the argument that the Palestinian Authority doesn’t represent all the Palestinians.

[...]

Between 2012 and 2018, Netanyahu gave Qatar approval to transfer a cumulative sum of about a billion dollars to Gaza, at least half of which reached Hamas, including its military wing. According to the Jerusalem Post, in a private meeting with members of his Likud party on March 11, 2019, Netanyahu explained the reckless step as follows: The money transfer is part of the strategy to divide the Palestinians in Gaza and the West Bank. Anyone who opposes the establishment of a Palestinian state needs to support the transfer of the money from Qatar to Hamas. In that way, we will foil the establishment of a Palestinian state (as reported in former cabinet member Haim Ramon’s Hebrew-language book “Neged Haruach”, p. 417). In an interview with the Ynet news website on May 5, 2019, Netanyahu associate Gershon Hacohen, a major general in reserves, said, “We need to tell the truth. Netanyahu’s strategy is to prevent the option of two states, so he is turning Hamas into his closest partner. Openly Hamas is an enemy. Covertly, it’s an ally.”

[qierxing]

Legends

A/N: No one look at me. Yes I’ve fallen into the OP hole in 2023 to the point where I’ve started reading the manga….a little piece to warm up writing if you so will....

Yan!Dracule Mihawk x Reader “I miss you more than I remember you.”

—

You heard him before you saw him.

That is to say, you heard the sounds of men yelling and then the muffled sounds of groans and thuds, followed by the creak of the bar seat next to you. You don’t have to even turn your head to see who it is. No one else has such a dramatic entrance. 

There’s only silence as the singular poor barmaid who looks on pensively to the customer next to you; analyzing whether he was a threat or not enough to be served. You sigh and ask for the nicest wine they have. The barmaid’s eyes only squint in confusion before ducking into the shabby backrooms.

“Is picking fights a hobby of yours?” 

Dracule 'Hawk Eyes’ Mihawk has always been like that for as long as you can remember. He never liked to speak first, not if it meant you would break the ice first with your probing. It’s become a habit to be the one to first greet him before he deigns it worth explaining himself.

“They were in the way, even after I had warned them.” The response is curt with no interest. 

You don’t doubt his words, but Mihawk can be…overwhelming in a sense. It’s why no one has yet to challenge him in his position for the years you’ve known him. At least no one with self preservation.

The barmaid slides your order over, and Mihawk catches it with ease and a dismissive nod. He barely gives the chipped glass a second glance before taking a generous sip. You have to wonder how he came to find you here, in this dingy little bar all the way out in the East Blue. It was hard to send letters or any kind of message that could reach him; that wasn’t through a transponder snail that you could get ahold of in the nearest port town. The last time you heard from him, a scruffy slums boy relayed to you he would be heading to the Grand Line due to an interesting turn of events. 

It’s been a week since then, and you’ve long left that island. Seeing as how he’s here now, makes you wonder if the boy simply lied to you out of a desire to exaggerate. Only the foolish and brave venture to those waters, and even Mihawk, for all his otherworldly strength, couldn’t have sailed through so fast. 

���So, what brings you here?” You shake your glass of rum, ice clinking like a little tune. It’s not in both of your natures to beat around the bush, and you’re sure Mihawk had a reason for appearing here. “Last minute preparations before you get to the Grand Line?”

He closes his eyes and chuckles, startling you a bit. “You could say that.” 

You could count on your fingers the times you saw him truly, genuinely smile. A pit of unease begins to grow in your chest. You’re not sure if you want to pry further to find the answer to your question.

“I would like to hang out more, but I’m going to start traveling to the West Blue tomorrow afternoon,” you start carefully, attempting to casually rift through your bag so as to not look awkward. “We can have breakfast together in the morning. I’m sure you have some exciting news for me to pen.”

Gold ringed pupils watch as you slide a good amount of berry over the counter. The barmaid gratefully snatches it, and quickly scuttles to the backroom, no doubt to stash it away to make sure it was safe. When you dare to meet his eyes again, it held a strange gleam that made you feel terribly small. Not unlike a rabbit who knew they were being stalked by something much, much bigger.

“Yes, breakfast does sound nice.” A silence follows that casual statement, and you’re left squirming at the unspoken sentiment behind it. It’s not a dismissal. Mihawk never minced words before, and for him to leave you hanging like this never bodes well. Such honors were usually left to his unfortunate victims who managed to get away with their lives after trying to provoke him. Pleasantries meant nothing to a pirate like Mihawk, much to the chagrin of the navy who hoped their alliance would serve as a leash and collar for him. 

“Then, I should get going. See you tomorrow?” You turn, hoping that was enough to signal the end of the conversation, but the man downs his glass of shoddy wine with surprising elegance and follows your action. 

“Where are you sleeping?” 

You’ve dealt with people who don’t know how to take a hint. This was not asked out of ignorance—Mihawk is the furthest thing from a nosy citizen trying to dig too deep. You feign a joking laugh. “How could a high and mighty warlord lower himself to a shoddy inn for the night?” 

“You know such things don’t mean anything to me.” That is true. You’ve seen it firsthand. He’s sometimes kinder than expected. Most pirates love to boast about their feats and dreams, and while it makes your job easier, you have to wonder about how much truth was in those drunken outbursts. Shanks, for one, often tested that theory.

“Yes, but I don’t think it’ll be very comfortable.” You’re not lying. You swear you saw a mouse scrabble through the floorboards of the room and the bed itself was just a step above a wooden frame and some boxes to make the mattress. “You’re better off finding another place, honestly.”

Mihawk’s eyes pierce through you. Before you can even think of bolting, your upper arm is encircled by his grip, locking you in place.

“I suggest you don’t try to run, dear.” The pet name makes you gag. “You know better than that.”

“I don’t need a reminder,” you mutter bitterly. “And why are you insisting on torturing me?”

“Torture? I’m simply picking up something I need before leaving. I thought I'd told you this already.” Your blood runs cold at his amused reply. 

“You can’t! I already booked my ticket out–”

“I can and will, dear,” he cuts you off brusquely with an apathetic air that makes you bristle, “Exchanges can always be cut and those can always be renegotiated. Surely, you know this best.”

It’s not false. It was not him, but his red-haired companion that you sought out to interview that fateful day. Ambition for the greatest story led you to that infamous pirate emperor, but it was curiosity that had you turning to his quiet friend. How shameless of him to bring up the past now.

“And why should I come with you?” You hiss through gritted teeth. His grip is unshakable and ironclad, tight enough to make you feel a painful ache. “There’s no interesting news with you at this moment.”

He tilts his head, eyes still boring through you, as if to try to pick apart your thoughts. “If you’re not satisfied, I could always tear this bar down. That should be enough of a headline for you to work with, no?”

Your mouth dries immediately at the threat in his words. There’s still that poor barmaid in the back. A sleeping drunk in the corner of the tavern. But Mihawk wouldn’t give up so easily even if you decide that their lives weren’t enough for yours. Even if tonight ended in a fire, he would continue to stalk after you until you’re left crawling to get away.

“Fine.” You look away and he lets go, thankfully, only to encircle a hand around your shoulders.

“Good. Lead the way, then.”

[zvaigzdelasas]

US Threats led to rupture of vital military ties, Nigerien leader says - WaPo

A crucial military relationship between the United States and its closest West African ally, the country of Niger, ruptured this spring after a visiting U.S. official made threats during last-ditch negotiations over whether American troops based there would be allowed to remain, according to the country’s prime minister.

In an exclusive interview, Prime Minister Ali Mahaman Lamine Zeine put the blame for the breakdown squarely on the United States, accusing American officials of trying to dictate which countries Niger could partner with and failing to justify the U.S. troop presence, now scheduled to end in the coming months. Niger has been central to efforts to contain a growing Islamist insurgency in West Africa.

The rift between the former allies has created an opportunity for Russia, which has moved quickly to deepen its relationship with Niger, dispatching troops to the capital, Niamey, last month to train the Nigerien military and supplying a new air defense system. Russian and U.S. troops now occupy opposite ends of an air base.

After a military coup d’état ousted Niger’s democratically elected president last year, the United States froze security support as required by U.S. law and paused counterterrorism activities, which had involved intelligence gathering on regional militant activities from a massive drone base in the country’s north. The United States has kept more than 1,000 military personnel in place while negotiating with Niger over their status and urging the junta to begin restoring democracy.

“The Americans stayed on our soil, doing nothing while the terrorists killed people and burned towns,” Zeine said. “It is not a sign of friendship to come on our soil but let the terrorists attack us. We have seen what the United States will do to defend its allies, because we have seen Ukraine and Israel.”

Niger’s insistence that American troops depart culminated in the U.S. announcement last month that it would withdraw them. The pullout, which two U.S. officials said would begin in coming months, represents a significant setback for the Biden administration and will force it to reconfigure its strategy for countering Islamist extremists in the volatile Sahel region.

Though tense discussions between U.S. and Nigerien officials have been previously reported, Zeine’s remarks revealed the extent of the disconnect between the two countries. While the Americans were pressing their counterparts over democracy and their relations with other countries, Niger was asking for additional military equipment and what it considered a more equitable relationship between the two forces, according to his account. He also revealed just how exasperated the Nigeriens had become with the United States.

Relations with the United States have been strained since the junta took power, appointing Zeine, an economist, as prime minister two weeks later. The U.S. government condemned the coup and called for the release of President Mohamed Bazoum, who was put under house arrest.

Zeine said leaders of Niger’s new government, known as the National Council for Safeguarding the Homeland, or by its French initials CNSP, were bewildered that the United States had frozen military support while insisting on keeping the troops in the country without justifying their continued presence. The American response in the wake of Niger’s coup contrasted sharply with that of other nations, including Russia, Turkey and the United Arab Emirates, he said, which have welcomed the new Nigerien leaders with “open arms.”

He said the Nigerien leaders took particular umbrage at remarks by Molly Phee, the State Department’s top official for African affairs, who he said had urged the government during a March visit to Niamey to refrain from engaging with Iran and Russia in ways objectionable to Washington if Niger wanted to continue its security relationship with the United States. He also said Phee had further threatened sanctions if Niger pursued a deal to sell uranium to Iran.

“When she finished, I said, ‘Madame, I am going to summarize in two points what you have said,’” recounted Zeine, who has led negotiations with the United States. “First, you have come here to threaten us in our country. That is unacceptable. And you have come here to tell us with whom we can have relationships, which is also unacceptable. And you have done it all with a condescending tone and a lack of respect.”[...]

Since 2012, the United States has maintained a military presence in Niger, with most U.S. personnel stationed at the Agadez drone base, which cost about $110 million to build. That base has been “impactful” for counterterrorism efforts across the region, said Gen. Michael E. Langley, who heads U.S. military operations in Africa. In an interview earlier this year, Langley warned that the U.S. losing its footprint in Niger would “degrade our ability to do active watching and warning, including for homeland defense.”[...]

When Phee first arrived in Niger in December, Zeine said, he showed her photographs of Nigeriens waving American flags during protests against France, Niger’s former colonial power. While protesters set fires and smashed windows at the French Embassy, he noted, they left the U.S. Embassy untouched.

“Nigeriens were saying, ‘Americans are our friends, they will help us this time to annihilate the terrorists,’” said Zeine. “But there was radio silence.” He added that Niger would have not looked to Russia and other countries for help if the United States had responded to requests for more support, including for planes, drones and an air defense system.[...]

Although Niger is insisting that the U.S. military leave, Zeine said that his government wants to continue economic and diplomatic relations with the United States and that “no Nigerien considers the United States as the enemy.” He said he told Phee and Campbell that Niger would rather have American investors than soldiers.

“If American investors arrived, we would give them what they wanted,” he recounted telling the States Department officials. “We have uranium. We have oil. We have lithium. Come, invest. It is all we want.”

14 May 24

[000marie198]

It's done. Phew *passes out* here, please accept this little prologue, I've planned a multichapter for this.

Here's my entry to Nine Tailed Travel Guide Through the Multiverse. Juuuust short of time running out. Takes place in Synergy Au

.

.

Unsynched

The sea lit up in a thunderous white flash, lightning striking the mountaineous waves with vengeance, their turbulent surface swallowing million tiny craters and being struck by million more.

Rain fell in torrents, bulleting streams of water speeding downward lit by the blinding flashes every few seconds. Wind screamed and wailed as it hunted within the deadly storm, one of the bigger ones this area had seen since the Rift.

At the edges of a secluded shore, the rumbles of thunder sounded muffled inside a locked up facility, the safety of reinforced hangers and labs failing to hide the chill caused by nature’s wrath. Even as the world slept peacefully, most of the staff was on high alert. That included the operators dutifully running continuous scans at their respective stations.

A large computer set up at the radar control station began to beep in alert, one of its monitors displaying a red dot pinging offshore over the regional map. The agent stationed by it reached for the controls, slipping a headset over his ears to report what the monitor displayed.

“Commander, we've picked up on an energy anamoly fifteen miles west.”

“Another beast?” The gruff voice on the other end inquired almost immediately.

“Negative,” the agent responded, “this signature does not match the one given off by the Breachers.”

There was a pause on the other end, likely due to the other consulting about their next course of action, before another voice crackled through the comm links.

“We are at Hanger 5, prepared for deployment. Allow clearance for investigation.”

“Commander?” The agent prompted for confirmation.

“Send off The Tempest,” the first voice ordered. “We cannot take any chances.”

“Affirmative.”

An intensifying hum sounded from Hanger 5 as mechanisms powered up and the reinforced gates slowly rose, the icy claws of the storm reaching in with a vengeance.

……….....................................

Expecting to appear on solid ground as he had the past few times he walked into a new world, Nine hadn't anticipated the portal to deposit him thirty feet high, in the middle of the ocean.

A startled yelp escaped him, quickly turning into terrified scream as rain, wind and lightning blinded his senses, flashes preceding blasts of thunder that shook him to the core.

The world was an earthquake and he was at its epicenter.

His heartrate sped up as he fell. Loud beats thudding through his veins mirrored the thunder’s claps like symphonic war drums. Pupils shrunk into pinpricks and something buzzed across his fur, skin, flesh– every single cell.

Adrenaline.

He was familiar with adrenaline. With its fight or flight instincts.

He had honed them for years to choose fight. With practice and struggle, pain and blood, a lifetime of suffering. Nine squeezed his eyes shut and let them take over, trusting them to keep him safe.

Seven metal tails clicked apart and spun, two organic ones joining them and the kit slammed to a halt midair, the harsh shift in momentum barely shocking him. Black waves below and grey clouds above sandwiched the wind and rain that tried to push him down but he held on, though barely.

Raising an arm to block the droplets, Nine squinted through the shower, flinching as more strikes lit the stormy horizon. He needed to find someplace to land. Now. Being in the air increased the risk of his metallic appendages attracting lightning.

Just stabilizing while hovering in same place was difficult enough, if he couldn't find land soon- he pressed his lips, glancing down at the MTC- he'd have no choice but to leave this universe unexplored.

For the first time in many multiverse adventures, he wished Sonic and Tails would show up. He had internally complained about it before but he could really use some help right now.

Well, no matter, if they couldn't find him, he'll do it himself. A harsh gust pushed at him from the side, Nine grunting as his tails strained to fight against it. Right, he'll try to find them after he was sheltered and not under the mercy of a heavy storm.

Reaching for his yellow handheld, he turned mid air so his back was to the rain’s direction, shielding his front just enough for him to huddle over the device and activate its wave scanner, trying to find a satellite signal he could hack.

In any other case, he would've shot down the thought immediately, considering he's been through universes where such technology didn't even exist, but Nine had checked the readings of this particular world before deciding to teleport here. It seemed to be advanced in technology just as much, if not more, than New Yoke. And it had a strangely strong reading, similar to the fixed Green Hill did compared to the other shatter spaces. He'd looked forward to exploring it.

If only he hadn't ended up in the middle of the storm.

“C'mon, work,” Nine muttered with frustration as the device took longer than it usually did to pick up a signal, the weather hindrance still playing its part.

Finally, it pinged with an alert, the fox not taking another moment to jump on the frequency, launching codes to bypass firewalls and access the available GPS and maps. As he pulled up the one which showed his location, he paused, brows furrowing up in confusion.

“What?”

The live map had his coordinates, which made sense considering he connected through the database, but it also showed location of another signal, heading straight towards him.

He felt the air trmeor with a deep rumbling thud, it's sound blending with the storm’s so well, he hadn't realized it could have a different source.

Nine froze, his fur pricking up as another rumbling thud sounded, louder. Closer. The lightning that would accompany the thunder impossibly staying static, not flashing off within milliseconds.

Nine was not alone.

He held his breath as waves rose like curtains, a deep groan vibrating the moist air like whales’ songs after a last thunderous thud. Glaring beams shone down at his back, framing his sharp shadow flickering with the waves as he hovered with his handheld gripped tight, the other signal blinking right behind his own.

Swallowing back his growing fear, Nine turned around, finding himself face to face with a gigantuan mech’s dark visor, piercing beams from its shoulder pads focused directly upon Nine.

.......

To be continued in Unsynched

[bobbimorses]

Real reasson about Clint and Bobbi's divorce? I tough because Bobbi cheated on him, but not sure

absolutely not! i think that misunderstanding is likely from the end of the mockingbird solo in 2016, which decided to go ahead and try to retcon a very key event. let's get into it...

in west coast avengers, the whole team time travels to the old west. their time machine is broken and can only travel backwards. while trying to time travel back further, the phantom rider punches bobbi and takes her off the machine, separating her from the team (in space and time)

phantom rider takes bobbi to his cave and concocts a drug to convince her she's his wife

eventually, the two-gun kid (cowboy friend of hawkeye) tracks them down and is able to snap bobbi out of her drugged stupor. she realizes the extent of coercion that's occurred. clint is trapped in ancient egypt (and also dying), so he's not around for what comes next; during a showdown with bobbi, phantom rider falls off a ledge.

because fuck this guy, bobbi makes her choice: that is, choose to do nothing.

phantom rider's spirit actually just gets reincarnated when he dies, which bobbi admittedly didn't know about at the time, but fuck that guy.

when clint and bobbi are finally reunited, she doesn't divulge the sexual assault that occurred. several issues later, phantom rider's spirit in the present tells clint bobbi killed him and doesn't say why (bc fuck that guy). in what is notoriously the most dickish response (and writing) possible, clint goes "that's not what he said!!!!!!!" when bobbi tries to tell clint why she let phantom rider drop (bc, again, fuck that guy). and so, a rift is born.

clint's whole motto is "avengers don't kill," so his contentions are: you killed someone, you lied by omission, you betrayed my trust by not telling me. bobbi's are: that doesn't count as killing, that guy was a rapist, you are being a shitty husband. also fuck that guy.

the ensuing issues are a bunch of "pick a side" bullshit with the team and squabbling. which was ridiculous. clint's stance was so ridiculous that while all their acid and strife in west coast avengers continued, clint and bobbi would constantly be trying to reconcile and acting tenderly toward each other in concurrent issues of solo avengers. bc other writers thought "yeah fuck that guy."

so that's why they broke up. but also they didn't bc they got back together? but also they didn't get back together bc that was a skrull. but that wasn't supposed to be a skrull at the time and was only one retroactively. but then they got back together anyway. i digress.

ANYWAYS this brings us to mockingbird #8 (2016), which attempts to retcon all that in a way i can only describe as insulting. first of all, phantom rider's described as an ex of bobbi's, which is a terrible start.

then this happens:

yeah. whether the writer was trying to retcon the reasoning behind the divorce, bobbi having been sexually assaulted, or whatever aspect of the entire storyline, what instead comes across is that the writer decided "woman who survived sexual assault and asserted her agency in letting perpetrator die" should be "so like, bobbi cheated on clint, bc she makes her own decisions!" while we have panels of a man drugging her. ???? the only way you could potentially reconcile this is bobbi is lying to phantom rider to get him to fuck off (bc fuck that guy), but as i mentioned, she also calls him her "ex" in her internal monologue earlier in this very same issue, so that definitely didn't seem to be the writer's intention. sooo. we should all collectively ignore this retcon attempt.

there's also the added complication of whether their divorce was finalized during west coast avengers what with bobbi being presumed dead but then not dead, and then clint actually dying and then undying and then dying and then undying again, bobbi confirming they were divorced in new avengers reunion, but then hawkeye v4 later having clint sign divorce papers...but that's not the crux of the issue at hand. leave that for a wills and trusts probate hypo.

SO in summary: not really. if you found this obnoxiously long, enjoy this even longer text post i once made summarizing their relationship, kind of!

[legionofmyth]

Rifts World Book 15: Spirit West - New O.C.C.s and Abilities

🎲 Unleash new possibilities in Rifts tabletop RPG! Dive into 'New Occupational Character Classes (O.C.C.) in Rifts World Book 15: Spirit West.' Expand your adventures! #Rifts #TabletopRPG #SpiritWest #PalladiumBooks

Rifts Ultimate Edition Rifts First Edition Rifts World Book 15: Spirit West – [PDF]Unleash new possibilities in Rifts tabletop RPG! Dive into ‘New Occupational Character Classes (O.C.C.) in Rifts World Book 15: Spirit West.’ Expand your adventures! Explore the captivating world of Rifts with World Book 15: Spirit West by Palladium Books. Immerse yourself in a thrilling adventure set in the wild,…

[tmae3114]

Okay, so, locations of new Fissures:

The Deadlands (uh oh! there's still a Rift open there too!)

in that big swath of land in the west of the Land of Dragons that we don't currently know the name of (that's pretty close to Greenguard, could be troublesome)

Off the coast of Maar (should we. be concerned about the ocean?)

in the middle of Volkenraand (maybe we get to go there next Book?)

TWO OF THEM in the Bald Mountains (*points at the Magesterium* Do Not.)

[o-craven-canto]

Four scenarios for the formation of the next Pangea-like supercontinent, between 200 and 250 million years after our time. (Sources: "The next supercontinent", Stephen Battersby, 2017; "Back to the future: Testing different scenarios for the next supercontinent gathering", Davies et al., 2018)

In all these scenarios, for the next 50 million years or so Africa keeps crawling north, pushing against the southern edge of Eurasia until the Mediterranean disappears, replaced by a colossal mountain range.

1. Novopangea. The current trends continue: the Atlantic keeps growing from the mid-Atlantic ridge, and the Pacific keeps shrinking, its crust consumed by the subduction zones of the Ring of Fire and fueling the volcanoes of Japan and Peru. Africa breaks along the Great Rift, sending an eastern continent out into the Indian Ocean until it collides with Australasia. As the Pacific disappears around its one-billionth birthday, North America merges back-to-back with East Asia, trapping Australia and Antarctica in the middle.

2. Pangea Ultima or Proxima. As Atlantic crust grows older, it finally gives way, and the small subduction zones on the eastern coast of the Americas join into a massive trench. The Atlantic starts closing once again. The new subduction also splits Antarctica in two pieces, with the eastern half entering the Indian Ocean. The continents rejoin in a configuration similar to the original Pangea, although the Old World -- with which Africa and Australia are solidly fused -- rotates so that Africa wedges between the Americas. The remains of the Atlantic and Indian ocean form a Mediterranean-like inland sea.

3. Amasia. The eastern subduction zone of the Americas only opens partially, causing them to rotate. Both the Atlantic and the Pacific remain open, except for the far north of the Pacific. What closes is the Arctic Ocean, as all continents converge northward, without much changing their shape. Australia pushes hard against Northeast Asia, merging fully with it. The exception is Antarctica which remains at the South Pole, surrounded by a massive circumplanetary ridge from which all new crust is produced and by a narrower subduction ring that will raise volcanoes all around its coast.

4. Aurica. This time, both the Atlantic and the Pacific close up. The dominant ocean is a completely new one: Eurasia tears in two along the Indus valley and the rift of Lake Baikal, with the western half travelling west, and the eastern half (with Australia) east, until they both collide with North America on its opposite sides. For a while, the Ring of Fire is an Atlantic phenomenon. South America is similarly crushed between Antarctica and Africa.

In any case, eventually new rifts will form, and the new supercontinent will also shatter like Pangea once did (and before that, Rodinia), producing new continents of unrecognizable shape.

Video: Novopangea

Video: Pangea Ultima

Video: Amasia

Video: Aurica