#car has power over electronics

[gallusrostromegalus]

The Van Has Officially Declared It Spooky Season

---

I've got my parent's van for the week and it seems determined to establish my status as The Local Cryptid by terrorizing an innocent 7-11 clerk.

...I might need to back up a bit.

My mother is an eminently sensible woman who knows herself well, and when The Plauge hit, she knew she'd need some sort of mentally and physically engaging craft project to keep herself from going insane and massacring the local zoning and water management boards (even if they have it coming). So she and Dad acquired a utility van and converted it into a camper van because while they love camping, they're past the age where their joints and immune systems will tolerate sleeping on the cold ground in a nylon tent.

They did a terrific job of it and my mom taught herself woodworking and carpentry and now the van has it's own cabinets, fold-away dining table, and removable queen-sized bed with memory foam mattress. My Dad was already a computer engineer, but he learned the dark magics of automotive software and electronics to install after-market backup cameras, a media player that would take a terabyte hard drive and a solar-powered battery and outlet so they could wake up and just turn on the kettle and griddle for breakfast without having to exit the van into a cold morning on an empty stomach.

Truly, the height of Camping Luxury.

My parents are both in their mid-seventies and my primary life goal is to be at least half as cool and hale as they are when I get old.

Anyway, they take it out at least a dozen times a year and it works fabulously, but, being as I am on good terms with my parents and also finishing the process of moving house, I've been borrowing it to move large and cumbersome objects that will not fit in the back of my equally lovely but minuscule Honda hatchback.

It's a Great Van. Very easy and comfortable to drive. Stunningly good MPG for it's size. The best cruise control I've ever had in a car.

It's just also. Quirky. Mischievous, even.

---

If this van has a fault its that it bears the unfortunate affliction that all lightly used white utility vans have in that the combination of an utter lack of branding features and the large dent/scrape I accidentally put on it while trying to escape a Denny's last Thanksgiving means that this vehicle is one addition of a Badly Spray-Painted "FREE CANDY" on the side away from being the sort of vehicle you see in an edgy horror movie.

It's got the same issue that Doberman Dogs have where they look like the sort of creature that likes to snack on toddler's faces whilst actually having personalities made of marshmallow fluff. This vehicle is unnecessarily menacing and I think nothing short of an airbrushed Epic Van Wizard will correct this. People see this van pull up and lean over and squint suspiciously at me when the driver's side door opens, and then look moderately confused when, instead of Charles Manson, a small, potato-shaped creature with neon purple hair and a statistically unlikely assortment of dogs emerges.

My own two dogs, Herschel the Hanukkah Goblin/Corgi and Charleston Chew The Taco Dumpster Dog, Do Not Like The Van. Even with the bed in it, they have a tendency to slide and roll around in the back, and both WILL chew through dog saftey belts or other attempts to secure them in there.

On the other hand, my house mate's dog, an exceptionally tall standard poodle whom we lovingly call "The Creature", loves the Van because SHE wears her doggy seat-belt with only mild complaining and gets to sit up in the passenger seat like A People.

Also like A People, The Creature likes to stand and walk around on her hind legs. It doesn't hurt her and it's entirely voluntary, but every so often I will feel a hand on my arm and instead of my husband or friend, it's a canine that's taller than I am on her hind legs who wants to stare at my face with soulful, concerned eyes. The Creature's favorite thing is that she is exactly the right height for me to hold her arm in Genteel Fashion and walk around the pet food or hardware store with her like I'm a count escorting a debutante around a royal ball.

---

As it stands, I am set to inherit this vehicle whenever my Honda gives up the ghost, and I fully intend to paint an Epic Van Wizard on it when that time comes.

The other peculiarity of The Van is that while Dad did manage to successfully install all his after-market electronics, not all the electronics get along. Sometimes, they fight for Dominance. The Terabyte Music Player and the Backup Camera have a particularly contentious relationship, and turning on the music has about a 25% chance of turning on the backup camera as well, and turning on the Backup Camera is equally likely to turn on the music.

Firthermore, The Van has a favorite song.

I am not kidding that Dad filled an entire terabyte hard drive with music and the software to sort it via the radio controls, but of all the Early Boomer Dad Rock (Kingston Trio over The Eagles) and Irish Folk and Symphonies and the entire discography of Weird Al Yankovic, The Van's favorite song- The one it picks to play as victory music every time it beats the Backup Camera at their weird electronic game of rock-paper-scissors -is The Liberty Bell March by John Phillip Sousa.

You all know this song already.

...but in case you've forgotten the tune:

Yeah.

The Van's favorite song is the goddamn Monty Python's Flying Circus Theme Music.

It does not play this song at a normal volume.

Every time I turn on the Backup Camera and it manages to turn the music player on as well, The Van insists on absolutely blasting this nonsense on at the maximum volume it's physically capable of producing, which I know is loud enough to be heard from the Denver International Airport's Pickup zone when they Van decided to start playing it from the economy lot about half a mile away.

Perhaps it's The Van's way of honoring the aesthetic sensibilities and sonic enthusiasm of Mr. Sousa.

...I can't help but wonder if the purpose of an Epic Van Wizard is to control this sort of faerie-like malarkey, and channel these chaotic energies into things like Spell of Don't Break Down In Nevada or Enchantment Of Always Have Good Parking.

---

So last Friday the 13th, I get a call from my friend and housemate, at said airport.

It's roughly 11PM at night, and I have already retired for the evening. I am in the exact minimum of clothing required to be a decent housemate and not scandalize the neighbors should I happen to walk by a window. My feet are up. There is a cat in my lap and fictional British people murdering each other in highly inventive fashion on the tv. -But my friend has returned from her friend's wedding,and either American or United Airlines has managed to lose her luggage, including, among other valuable possessions, the keys to her car. ...So she cannot just drive home as originally planned.

There are, as luck would have it, her spare set of keys not eight feet from me.

Being a good and decent person, I agree to bring the spare keys to her so she may get home before daybreak and not spend a semester's worth of tuition on an uber across the greater Denver traffic jam.

Being also that she Loves Activities, and it's her mom we're going to pick up, I elect to take along The Creature.

I am primarily focused on remembering how to get to the airport and not leaving my friend's spare keys on the counter, so I throw on a pair of flip-flops, step outside, remember that it's AUTUMN and my minimal evening attire is not sufficient thermal protection, step back in, grab the first coat in the closet I lay hands on, pull it on, check that I have her keys again and leave.

The trip to the airport is largely unremarkable, save that it becomes necessary for me to put on sunglasses to drive, despite it being nearly the witching hour and almost entirely darker than the inside of a cow.

It's necessary because this blissful darkness of night is violently punctured by a startling number of cars that seem to have installed miniaturized but no less powerful lighthouse bulbs in where their headlights ought to go so the oncoming traffic and sports cars that insist on tailgating me in the slow lane alike illuminate the road and my mirrors with the kind of radiance I'd normally associate with the arrival of a Seraphim.

I arrive at the distant highly discounted airport car lot where my housemate is waiting, deeply apologetic. It's nothing. I say. Once I see that your car starts up, I'm gonna go to that 7-11 across the way that I parked in front of, get a slurpee or something and I'll see you at home.

While she is retrieving her vehicle (an equally eccentric but much more stately Subaru that is old enough to be elected to congress) I rifle through the loose change in the glove box and discover that I have exactly $6.66 in small bills and coins. The Subaru, continuing it's long voyage into vehicular immortality, immediately starts up.

Upon her return, we all remember that my friend had all her camping gear in the backseat of the car and there is no room for The Creature to ride home with her parent, so I again assure her it's nothing, and will just take The Creature into the 7-11 with me. She is trained as a service animal and needs the practice after the plague.

I wave my friend off and turn to enter the 7-11.

I promptly trip over the jutting back bumper of The Van and fall, cartoonishly, face-first onto the sidewalk.

Fortunately, I have a lot of practice falling on my face, and have learned not to throw my hands out but instead cover my face, so my unexpected self-inflicted attempted curb-stomping lightly scrapes my hairline and nothing else -my sunglasses even stay in place- and I get up and resume my quest for a slurpee.

It's well known that the airport is a lawless place, and the 7-11 across from the discounted airport parking at the stroke of midnight is no exception.

I know it's the stroke of Midnight because there's one of those Audubon society bird-call clocks that makes bird noises, and my arrival is heralded by the twittering call of a Summer Tanager. I am almost charmed enough by the unusual choice of chronological device to excuse the exorbitant Airport-adjacent mark-up of Slurpee prices. I stand at the machine for some time, trying to decide on a size for the price and guess what the fuck "Blue Lighting Blast" is supposed to taste like.

The Creature is being Very Polite but is somewhat agitated, I assume because she *just* saw her mother for the first time in three days and then she LEFT with no explanation, so The Creature is on her hind legs, staring woefully into my eyes, asking to be escorted around the 7-11. Even though that's not what she's not supposed to be doing, there's nobody else in here, so I let her hang off my arm and discuss various Slurpee Flavor options with her.

We eventually decide on an experiment in which I try a Small Blue Lightning Blast, and discover it tastes a bit like licking a nintendo cartridge but in a pleasantly satisfying way.

I go up to pay and realize something is amiss.

The Cashier is a young man staring at me with wide eyes, one had over the register and the other wrapped up in his rosary.

I look down at myself.

In my haste to reunite my friend with her spare keys and service animal, I had left the house in the following accoutrements:

Flip Flops. Not matching. It's below freezing outside. That last part is not particularly odd footwear for the weather in for Colorado, but it's an important detail for the rest of the ensemble.

Assorted scrapes, bruises, cuts and welts on my arms and legs that come with doing outdoor work and living in a house with three dogs and a fully-clawed cat that all want to be in my lap all the time. It's cold out, so vasoconstriction has pulled the blood away from my skin, a trait that served my ancestors well during the last Ice Age, but leaves me with pale skin to contrast the various wounds and I look like a corpse that fell out of the back of a pickup truck.

The black Bootyshorts with "CRYPTID" painted in bright red gothic font across my ass, that @theshitpostcalligrapher gave me for my wedding present.

A peculiar but extremely comfortable garment that straddles the line between "Lacy Camisole" and "Industrial-Strength Sports Bra" like the Ever Given straddling the Suez Canal. It is also Bright Red. with black accents.

The Jacket I had grabbed out of the closet, which is in fact, a black Velour Dinner Jacket.

The Tokyo-Ghoul inspired reusable anti-covid mask a friend made me with the set of Coyote Teeth.

My sunglasses, which are shaped like a Halloween Bat. The lenses are the wings and the body is the nose bridge. It is ALSO bright red.

A Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle that I have been audibly affectionately calling "Dear Creature" who is hanging off my arm like she's my Prom Date.

The Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle is ALSO dressed up in a black Dog Sweater that has white bones printed on it to look like its an X-ray jacket showing off her skeleton.

I look like I am taking my Very Fancy Werewolf Girlfriend to a particularly casual Dinner Party for Vampires, but the thing that's really selling it and probably alarming the kid the most is the fun accessory I acquired in the parking lot not five minutes earlier:

The "Small Scrape At my Hairline" is actually a painless but PROFUSELY bleeding head wound that I had somehow entirely failed to notice covering my face, neck, decolletage and magnificent cleavage with blood like a Tarantino Film Extra.

This does explain why The Creature has been delicately trying to use her bodyweight to push me down onto the floor for the last ten minutes. So I don't injure myself while we wait for the paramedics she hoped this kid called to arrive, you see.

The Creature has such a High and Naive Opinion of humanity.

I decide this social situation is already fucked, and the only way out is through, and with haste, before I start dripping on the floor.

"Hi there!" I say cheerfully, to indicate this is a visually alarming but not terribly serious situation. "Just a Small Slurpee!"

The Cashier has entered the relevant code into the register before I finish the sentence. His gaze flicks off me just long enough to look at the total, and he grips his Rosary harder.

$6.66

"Oh cool! I have exact change!" I say, taking the money out of my as-yet-unsanguined pocket without looking and slap it down on the counter. "You have a good night and be safe out there!" I wave, leaving.

I get in The Van, mortified, buckle The Creature up, and as I make to leave, I have to put it in reverse, which automatically turns on the backup Camera.

It also turns on the music player.

I make eye contact with the cashier as the dulcet tones of John Phillip Sousa boom from the van hard enough to make the windshield and the windows of the 7-11 rattle for the nine-and-a-half seconds I have to wait to be able to turn the volume back down. Not knowing what else to to, I give him a thumbs up, and leave.

Anyway, now I know what my Future Van Wizard has got to be dressed like, and what their familiar is.

---

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#Family Lore #Dogs #It's Halloween babey #friday the 13th #blood mention #I hope that kid had a good night and at least one of his friends believed him #Long post #Video

[missroki]

OFFICE CRUSH┊when choso kamo’s pretty coworker asks him out, he doesn’t ask questions. it’s no surprise that the quiet IT guy isn’t exactly gifted in the art of romance, but you seem more than capable of showing him the ropes.

content: black coded!female reader x choso, office au, 90s rom-com adjacent, alcohol, flirting (!!!), choso being awkward, car sex, reader has braids, terms used are baby and good girl, no obvious power dynamics, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex (pull out method), purposefully lowercase. word count: 3.5k

“are you busy tonight?”

a sudden pause in the typing of keys, pale hands hovering over a manilla colored keyboard. choso stops coding as if it would have helped him hear you better.

“…huh?”

you ask your coworker out on a late wednesday afternoon, rocking back and forth on your heels with your hands clasped behind your back. your eyes are bright and determined in a way that tells him you mean what you say… but, for a minute, choso can’t do anything more than stare.

he’d only seen you in passing in the office, the click of your black pumps recognized easily in the sea of heavy loafers and dress shoes. despite your choice in footwear, you were often moving.

never has the man seen you sitting from his place in the IT department. you were always walking, or more accurately strutting down the halls, looking straight down with a handful of files and notebooks; always busy.

there’s a slight shift in your face (as if you’re going to repeat what you said) but choso interjects. he heard you clearly enough the first time, he was just a man with social skills that left much to be desired.

he answers you, cursing the shake in his voice. "n-no… i don’t think so but... why?" maybe you had a virus on your computer? or perhaps you were in need of fresh eyes on your interim report? choso thinks that maybe you need a spare thumb drive or the key to the electronics closet. he thinks you are here for a favor, something transactional that will explain the soft, polite smile on your lips.

he is proven wrong when you move closer into his space and rest your bottom against his desk, clasped hands now resting on your lap. he tries his best to not stare at your stocking-clad thighs. he wonders how warm they would feel under his hands.

“well,” you start, “since you aren’t busy, we can go out for a drink, right?”

choso feels his nose twitch, watching as your gaze follows the birthmark on his nose. he realizes that you are waiting for a response and clears his throat.

“my brother might need me… he gets home from school pretty early nowadays.”

you smile and tilt your head. "yuuji, right? pink hair, high school student? big ball of sunshine?”

he blinks once, then twice. okay. “that would be him… how did you know that?”

you shift your hips to face him better, palm on the desk as you lean over to point at the lone personal item he has.

it’s a picture of choso and his brother, old and slightly blue at the edges from water damage. “he showed up once because he left his house key at home. you went down and brought him yours.”

admittedly, choso barely remembers this interaction. he curses his stomach for warming at the fact that you do. “oh.”

despite his lackluster response, your smile doesn’t waver, acrylic nails tapping against the surface that he works on everyday. it’s those gentle clicks that make his eyes shift downwards to where the sound is coming from, distracting him.

a holiday on his calendar mousepad is covered by your pink and red fingernails.

“you’re… interesting,” you offer as explanation, “and i want to spend time with you. is that alright?”

you’re beautiful, he thinks. beautiful in a way that he doesn’t see often; pretty brown skin and soft-looking braided hair. he wonders how long it takes you to twist the strands in such an intricate way. he wonders if it would be weird for him to ask.

choso hesitates, but eventually nods. “…i’m sure yuuji won’t miss me too much.” he concludes, the smallest of lop-sided grins on his face. “it’ll only be for a little while, right?”

you sit up and choso feels as if he can breathe again without your intoxicating scent so close to him. you dramatically cross a finger over your heart. 

“you’ll be home by ten. scout’s honor.”

choso is certain now of three things:

one, he likes strawberry daiquiris. two, he really likes drinking them with you. and three, you were most definitely not a girl scout.

he knows this because it is already eleven thirty pm and you have sneakily convinced him to stay longer than intended. after a few rounds you became alarmingly convincing.

even with choso’s clumsy coin fumbling and the obvious red flush of his face, your companion is positive that he is not drunk. you smile as your cloudy mind focuses on the pretty arch of his cupid's bow and the deep set of his tired eyes.

with warming alcohol in his system, choso finds himself loosening up more and more. his gaze wanders without fear of you noticing.

it doesn’t change the fact that you do.

his suit jacket is draped on your lap to cover your legs, your pink blouse curving along your chest so firmly that it’s hard to look away.

suddenly, you lean in to sip his drink (which confuses him since you have your own) and choso has to try his best to refrain from staring at your breasts as they press against the bar table. as the night has progressed you’ve gotten more bold, more touchy. he likes it. he likes you and the small hint of lipstick that stains his pink straw now.

you sit back up and wipe away the condensation from the hand that was holding the glass steady.

“is this a birthmark?” you ask with glassy eyes, a cold thumb moving up to caress the deep purple line on his nose bridge. choso is just drunk enough that his heart flutters and he doesn’t pass out on the spot.

“yes, i was born with it.” he pauses, thinking that you want him to elaborate. “yuuji used to joke and say they must have used a permanent marker to tell me apart from the other babies.”

you laugh and it’s a small thing but… choso can’t help but to grace you with a lazy smile. “it’s nice. makes you look more unique.” your thumb moves up to his dark circles, pressing gently into the skin. he feels warmth pool in his belly. the alcohol, he thinks. “i’m going to assume these are more man made?”

he nods, heart beating fast against his chest. your hand is gentle and your eyes are kind. choso wonders if you have always been so sweet, if the heavy burdens of adult life haven’t quite hit you in the same way they have him. is that weird? he won’t say that out loud. “yeah, i don’t get much sleep.”

“i’m definitely not helping with that.” you frown a little and choso thinks of every possible way he could make you smile again. “that’s no good. who’ll help yaga out when he falls for another pop up porn ad?”

he laughs at that, feels it deep in his stomach. you’re funny, choso thinks. you’re pretty. your lips look soft and he wants to kiss you.

“i think you’re more than capable–“

“hey, is that–? kamo-chan!”

a shrill voice comes from across the bar, onlookers (that are suspiciously all couples tonight) glancing over to get a glance at whoever was making a fuss. to choso’s horror, he sees a familiar head of long blue hair, a large smile that barely fits the face of the person wearing it.

behind him is a small group of people wearing the usual business casual with an assortment of red and pink items like… heart shaped headbands? he can tell by the way they stumble over that this is perhaps the second or third bar of the night.

“all these years of me trying to get you to come out and you only do it when she asks you to?” mahito pouts, an arm moving to rest around your shoulders. if you’re annoyed by his interruption, you don’t make it known. you smile easily and return his side hug.

choso wonders now if physical affection is something you give out freely. maybe he’d interpreted your earlier touches wrong, as something less than innocent.

he feels a blush rising to his cheeks and hopes you assume it is just the booze.

“maybe i’m just more convincing,” you tease, “i wanted to spend some time with one of our most valuable team members. working with a bum like you can really mess with my productivity.”

mahito gasps dramatically. “wow! i guess there must be love in the air then!” there’s a small sea of laughter that follows. choso begins to once again realize that it is not you two alone anymore, that your entire department has somehow managed to force their way into the imaginary bubble you’d built around each other.

someone suggests you all move to a booth and he feels his social battery deplete within seconds.

another hour passes before choso finally realizes that he is way in over his head. mahito has managed to simultaneously steal all of your attention and even some of choso’s as well.

he’s funnier than him, he thinks. even with his weird scarred skin and bony frame you seem to enjoy his company and the child-like way he downs shots of tequila as if they’re water. he licks salt from various places and you chuckle and smile affectionately, like he’s a puppy.

is that what you were into? guys who could talk to you for hours about nothing at all? choso doesn’t think he could ever be that man. he was awkward and somewhat insecure. you were well liked and that meant you’d be hard to keep entertained. it’s a role he isn’t sure he can fill for you.

everyone is laughing, including you. something about the department that choso would have no knowledge of.

trying his best to avoid knocking shoulders with anyone, the man removes himself from the suffocating booth, back aching from the way he had to twist at all times to fit in the space.

choso thinks he’s always been like that. taking up space; having to make himself smaller in order to fit where he didn’t belong to begin with.

his hands reach for his pockets, glancing down to make sure he didn’t leave his wallet. when he lifts his head, he finds that your eyes are on now him.

your face tells him that you’re a bit alarmed at his leaving but he doesn’t wait for you to announce it to everyone before he’s moving quickly to the back door.

the hinges creak loudly, the threshold slightly damp as he shuffles out. it’s raining, he realizes. a drizzle that quickly dampens his dark hair.

the flickering streetlight illuminates his old car, the path straight ahead as he makes his way across the barely lit alleyway. his mind is clearer than it was in the suffocating bar atmosphere, but it is still muffled by anxious thoughts.

it’s because of this that he doesn’t hear the click of high heels against wet pavement.

“choso!” you call out, a small huff in your voice as you abruptly stop behind him. he blinks hard to rid his eyes of water, turns around to find you holding something, his jacket. oh. “you’re leaving without saying goodbye?”

you look upset, concerned even. choso quickly takes his jacket from you so that he can use it to cover your head — not really thinking when he does it. you give him a curious look.

“your hair,” he explains, “it’ll get... wet out here.”

you roll your eyes playfully, walking closer until you are almost chest to chest. “i don’t care about that right now.” you hum, eyes trying desperately to meet his. he turns his head and you boldly grip his chin. your fingertips are so warm. “did i do something wrong? are you upset with me?”

he reaches a hand out to gently hold your wrist, thumb against your pulse point. “not upset, just thought you might want to end the night with people you know… i’m not good with groups.”

you think this over for a moment and nod. “yeah i… i should have guessed that, actually. you were probably overwhelmed. i’m sorry.”

“you don’t have to be…” he murmurs. “i just needed to get away and i didn’t want to ruin anyone’s night.”

you let go of his chin, both hands coming up to push his now soaked hair away from his face, the strands curl around his ears where your hands rest. without realizing, his touch has settled on your waist. you don’t seem to mind.

“i like you." you admit, brazenly. “i have for a while now.”

"i’m sorry." he responds instinctively, not really processing your confession at first. you really laugh at that and it makes his mind go numb for a moment. “i mean… i like you, too. a lot, actually.”

you smile and it’s so blindingly beautiful. how did he go without knowing you for so long? “i hoped so… i saw the way you were watching me earlier. i thought you were gonna kiss me a couple of times.”

something in his mind twitches, directly in the space next to mischief and only a step away from desire.

“did you want me to?”

you eyes widen just a fraction. now it is your turn to be flustered. choso finds himself relishing in that just a little. “…what?”

maybe a… lottle.

“did you… want me to kiss you?” his thumbs rubs gentle circles on your blouse covered tummy, the motion soothing and weirdly familiar. like the smell of a perfume that hits you with unknown nostalgia, the hint of someone from your past.

you lean in slightly, nose gently nudging his. “i still do.” you whisper, “would that be okay?”

your breathes mingle, barely an inch separating the two of you. choso finds himself laughing at the cheesiness of it all. 

you aren’t his first kiss, but he imagines that kissing in the rain will still be rom-com worthy.

“more than okay.” he murmurs.

his lips press to yours.

choso is certain now of three things:

one, he likes kissing you. two, he really likes kissing you. and three, your mouth is the best thing he has ever felt.

the backseat of his compact suv is just enough for you both to fit, your legs on either side of his hips as your hands explore his body. your tongue has managed to touch every inch of choso’s neck and chest, blushing red spots appearing on his soft pale skin.

your left hand traces over the mark on his ribs, large and expansive. he has to hold in a moan when you run your fingertips against it. “you’re so sensitive,” you hum, “are you nervous?”

he starts to unbutton your blouse, let’s his thumbs find your still covered nipples. he grazes his nail against the fabric, isolating the movement as you let out a soft gasp. “not nervous,” he responds. “i just really want you. you’re… gorgeous.”

you try to hide how much this affects you but choso can see it in the way your eyes soften at his praise. “thank you.” you breathe out, helping him by unclasping your bra and letting it fall to the ground with your already discarded stockings.

it barely hits the floor mat before choso’s mouth latches onto your chest, tongue swirling as his lips suck on the perky brown bud. your nails immediately tangle into his damp hair and your hips begin to grind on their own.

a hand reaches down between your legs and you whimper as your panties are forced to the side. “can i touch you?” he asks, lips trailing from one of your breasts to the other. “wanna make you feel good, need to get you ready for me.”

you nod with a giggle. “oh, yeah? you that big down there kamo-san?”

he is dead serious when he replies. “yes.”

choso’s fingers are long and your cunt lets him in with very little resistance. he’s glad to know his kisses made you melt for him so easily, a surge of confidence emerging. your thighs shift as you grind against his hand, the other against your back as your braids weave throughout his fingers. he’s careful not to tug, just feeling the smoothness of them against his skin.

“is this okay?” he asks, leaning in to press soft kisses to your neck.

you nod, relishing in the feeling of his surprisingly fit body beneath your hands. you would have never expected him to be so… strong and firm. you imagine him sweaty and panting, lifting weights over his head as you watch from the corner. your patience grows thin at the thought. you want him. now.

“choso,” you whimper, your plea immediately making him halt his movements. 

“are you okay? what’s wro-“ you silence him with your lips and lift your thighs so that his soaked fingers ease from your heat. your hand moves to tug down his slacks, the belt already unbuckled as you caress the obvious swell of his cock. his breath hitches as he goes to grip your waist. “s-shit, i see. you want me to– okay, i’ll give it to you.”

he allows you to pull out his cock and you gasp as it throbs and twitches against his stomach. it’s… huge. long and thick with a deeply flushed tip.

you stare at it so intently that your lover feels self conscious. “is it… okay?” he asks, watching your expression with curiosity.

you glance up at him and sense his worry, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “you’re perfect, choso. don’t worry. i’m just… surprised.”

he rubs your back tenderly, hoping to ease your concern. “i’ll go slow. i promise.”

when you ease down on him, choso has to fight the burning urge to immediately shoot his load. you’re just so tight and warm that it makes him dizzy. it’s only when you take him to the base that he holds you still. “i’ll let you get used to it first. then we can keep going. just stay still and i’ll—“

suddenly, you lift and slam back down on top of him. your movement is so sharp that choso chokes on his words, the fluttering of your pussy making him clench his abs to fight away his release.

he can barely think before your body is bouncing on top of him, your forehead pressing against his. you read his mind, seemingly. “don’t think,” you gasp out, “j-just fuck me, choso.” 

“i – oh fuck – i don’t want to hurt you.”

“you won’t, baby. i promise i can take it.” you move his hands from your waist to your ass, prompting him to squeeze at the soft flesh. “i can take it.”

his desire to treat you gently is not as strong as the pleasure he’s feeling, and soon choso is thrusting faster up into your cunt, gripping your ass to move you up and down.

“oh!” you cry out, perky breasts bouncing in his face with each hurried thrusts.

“shit.” he grits out, jaw clenched as he uses your pretty body. “take it,” choso whines, “fuckin’ take it.”

your pussy clenches at his words, panting and moaning against his mouth as your orgasm builds. “i-i think i’m gonna cum. c-choso i–“

one of his hands cup the back of your neck, his eyes not leaving yours as you spasm and twitch on his lap.

“it’s okay. let go for me. i’ve got you, baby.”

you cum with a sharp gasp, unable to look away with his strong hand keeping you in place. “good girl,” he murmurs, “such a good girl… let me fuck you through it.”

your body slumps against his, but choso doesn’t stop his movements. his cock plunges in and out of your hole, stretching you out as your cum drips down to his heavy balls. he wants to cum in you, to fill you up with his load until it drips between your legs… but he knows he has to save it for another time.

his orgasm hits him like a tidal wave; sudden and breath taking as he spills his load between you two, coating both of your stomachs in a sticky layer of white.

you whimper as it quickly cools, giggling at the face choso makes when you grab his shirt to clean you both up. he looks like a cat, disgruntled and pouting. you shrug. “it’s your cum.”

he couldn’t argue with that.

it’s weirdly comfortable, the time after your encounter where you both tug on your clothes, minus choso’s christened white button up.

you tell him he looks better without it, fingertips grazing his abdomen teasingly. he has half the mind to take you again, but there would be more time to get to explore your body.

maybe if he played his cards right you’d let him taste you.

choso imagines that the always empty electronics closet will be a perfect location.

“hey,” you whisper, hand pushing his dark hair behind his ear.

choso lets out a hum, twisting his neck so that his lips press tenderly to your wrist “yeah?”

you smirk. “happy valentine’s day.”

… oh.

note: hello, this is an old fic of mine that i’ve re-written and given a new v-day flair. thanks for reading and happy (early) love day.

MISSROKI. all original work. do not plagiarize, translate, or repost. this includes feeding my work to ai apps and sites.

#‧₊˚ 🖇️ ۫ ⭒ — sorin writes. #choso x reader #choso x female reader #choso x black!reader #choso kamo x reader #choso smut #choso fluff #choso fanfiction #jjk x reader #jjk x female reader #jjk x black reader #jjk smut #jjk fluff #choso x you

[reasonsforhope]

"Heat stored underground in caverns can be set aside in Finland’s summer months to be re-used during frigid winters thanks to a state-of-the-art ‘seasonal energy’ storage facility.

Slated for construction this summer near Helsinki, it will be the largest in the world by all standards and contain enough thermal energy to heat a medium-sized city all winter.

Thermal exchange heating systems, like those built underground, or domestic heat pumps, are seen as the most effective way available of reducing the climate-impact of home heating and cooling.

Their function relies on natural forces or energy recycling to cool down or heat up water and then using it to radiate hot or cold energy into a dwelling.

In Vantaa, Finland’s fourth largest city neighboring the capital of Helsinki, the ambitious Varanto seasonal energy storage project plans to store cheap and environmental friendly waste heat from datacenters, cooling processes, and waste-to-energy assets in underground caverns where it can be used to heat buildings via the district heating network whenever it is needed.

In Finland and other Nordic countries, the heat consumption varies significantly between seasons. Heat consumption in the summertime is only about one-tenth of the peak load consumption during the cold winter months.

Varanto will utilize underground caverns equal in space to two Maddison Square Gardens—over a million cubic meters—filled with water heated by this waste heat and pressure that will allow the water to reach temperatures of up to 300 degrees Fahrenheit without the water boiling or evaporating.

“The world is undergoing a huge energy transition. Wind and solar power have become vital technologies in the transition from fossil fuels to clean energy,” says Vantaa Energy CEO Jukka Toivonen.

“The biggest challenge of the energy transition so far has been the inability to store these intermittent forms of energy for later use. Unfortunately, small-scale storage solutions, such as batteries or accumulators, are not sufficient; large, industrial-scale storage solutions are needed. Varanto is an excellent example of this, and we are happy to set an example for the rest of the world.” ...

“Two 60-MW electric boilers will be built in conjunction with Varanto,” adds Toivonen. “These boilers will be used to produce heat from renewable electricity when electricity is abundant and cheap. Our heat-producing system will work like a hybrid car: alternating between electricity and other forms of production, depending on what is most advantageous and efficient at the time.”

... Construction of the storage facility’s entrance is expected to start in summer 2024, while it could be operational as early as 2028."

-via Good News Network, April 12, 2024. Video via VantaanEnergia, March 10, 2024

#solarpunk #heat pump #renewable energy #heating #finland #energy transition #climate change #climate hope #good news #hope #helsinki #clean energy #Youtube

[penaltyboxboxbox]

i'm here for any breadcrumbs of ur android AU >:V

I ACTUALLY HAVE MORE THAN BREADCRUMBS......heres some backstory some lore its incomplete but yeah take what i have :)

COMPREHENSIVE ANDROID AU

Cars and Drivers essentially have a symbiotic relationship, the cars have been designed to require an android pilot, with their power units/batteries being linked into one another. While traditional safety concerns are not something to worry about, this link between the electronics of the car and the driver means that malfunctions and damage to the car can result in technical damage to the driver. For example, if the car's own power systems begin failing, it may begin leech too much power from its driver, spreading battery life too thinly and causing shutdown for them both. Plugging into the car essentially puts the driver into a hyper-powered state, the car becoming an extension of their body.

Drivers can accrue damage of course, and like with cars there is a limited amount of replacement parts allowed each season, with penalties being doled out if breached.

F100 models are the standard approved android for F1 Racing, replacing the previous F01 models in 2015. The androids themselves are developed by independent manufacturers, each offering specific strengths, focuses, and technologies- teams themselves are forbidden from android manufacturing, ensuring that there is still competition and markets for drivers. The main challenge for teams is to develop cars and software, and then finding android drivers most compatible with their teams systems.

When a team secures a driver, they are fitted with a new head component that visually denotes them as part of that team and also holds/runs any team specific programming, and is responsible for the main compatibility with the car. Android drivers physically cannot pilot other teams cars unless the corresponding head unit is installed.

Androids hold little personal autonomy in this world, and typically have lives very controlled by their teams, as they are as much of an asset as the cars. This may vary depending on manufacturer and team attitude/culture, with some allowing for more freedom of expression and relative "personhood" of their android drivers, but undoubtedly still will maintain a great deal of control.

LETS GET INTO THE DRIVERSSS

Charles: F100-R18 Model by Leclerc Engineering, running CL16 / A charming and quick model, it is rumored that his core programming, processing, and body itself were secretly developed by Ferrari associates rather than fully by an independent manufacturer. This has led to a bit of drama surrounding him, with people questioning the team's involvement in building an android from scratch specifically to drive their cars, but his success has not been dominant enough for people to make too much of a fuss. There has been very little data showing if Charles is compatible with non-ferrari tech, one of the few things that would disprove the rumors around him, but the team shows no signs of trying to part with him any time soon.

Carlos: F100-R15 Model by Sainz Company running CS55 / A unique model of the F100, developed off of the Sainz Company's highly successful RA7-CS model, developed for Rally driving. The RA7 was re-engineered to match specs of the standard F100, while retaining durability and adaptability aspects the RA7 was made famous for. A unique model on the track, he has faced constant skepticism for not being as well optimized.

Lance: F100-R17 Model by Lawrence Stroll, running LS18 / In contrast to other racing androids, Lance was developed with many components more traditional to companion androids, and is treated like a son by his developer, Lawrence Stroll. When not driving, Lance lives a very human life, and is the apple of his creator's eye, garnering them both criticism over Lance's belonging in such a cutthroat sport. He also faces similar scrutiny to Charles, in that Stroll owns the racing team, as well as individually developing driving androids. He continues to state that Lance was developed first as a son, only second as a racing driver, and his model has shown compatibility with other teams cars.

Fernando: F01-R02.WDC Model by FA Alonso Kart & Sports, running FA14 / An otherwise defunct model, Fernando is still running despite it all. New softwares that he should not be compatible with, upgraded parts that should not fit, he somehow manages to make work, and deliver consistent results.

This can be credited to a massive electronic overload during a crash in 2015, in which he suffered a complete system malfunction. He appeared to just need a reboot and recalibration, but the incident unknowingly released previously encrypted team information into Fernando's memory and bypassed/disarmed a number of obsolescence measures that had been placed on his model, allowing his internal AI and adaptive systems to essentially run free.

Logan: F100-R23 Model by Sergeant Manufacturing, running LS2 / The only American made model on the grid, which has faced some scrutiny, as the crossover from American motorsports to International has not yet been the smoothest. A very new and untested model as well, approved for F1 in 2023, he has not proven to be the most compatible with the current Williams car, frequently facing technical issues.

Oscar: F100-R23 Model by Webber Technologies, running OP81 / Oscar's model was developed under the Australian manufacturer Webber Technologies, basing his internal systems off their previously successful F01-R02. He faced controversy when entering the Mclaren team, as Webber Technologies had a long term testing deal with Alpine while developing their F100 and his accompanying OP81 programming. While it is insisted that procedures were properly followed when erasing proprietary Alpine information from the OP81 program, some are suspicious due to his high level of success upon entering the Mclaren. Some theorize something else entirely, that Webber had been secretly testing Mclaren software in the OP81 system for much longer than anticipated, and optimizing the android for their car specifically prior to signing.

#ask #android au

[vidavalor]

Lindsay isn't just Heaven. She's Lucifer.

Going to mention here that this has discussion of abuse, including sexual assault and PTSD and recovery, in case you do not wish to read further.

So, Maggie & Nina are blended parallels of Crowley & Aziraphale, right? They're each a bit of both of them. Story-wise, personality-wise, paralleling-wise, vibe-wise, etc., right? So then can we talk about how Lindsay isn't *just* representing Heaven's abusive relationship with Aziraphale but also then how a blended parallel means that Crowley has a Lindsay, too? And that the show seems to suggest pretty heavily that it's Lucifer/Satan?

S2: Crowley triggers a blackout in the area that brings down mobile phone networks in London, trapping Maggie & Nina in the coffee shop and keeping Lindsay from being able to reach Nina through an electronic device. When the connection is restored, Nina is overwhelmed by the torrent of abuse sent to her through that device and we get confirmation that Nina's partner is emotionally and verbally abusive. This mirrors...

S1: Crowley brings down every mobile phone network in London, which keeps him from reaching Aziraphale (his Maggie) for a time to tell him about the antichrist... but it *doesn't* keep his abusive partner from reaching him through an electronic device (his car radio) and then abusing him in a metaphorical-to-human-rape demonic assault. It's mind control. It's forcible and against Crowley's will. It's literally taking away his own sense of bodily autonomy and control of himself while he's driving (the epitome of navigating your own surroundings under your own power)-- and he's driving the car that is an extension of his consciousness, no less.

FWIW, this is *really* why Crowley has a complete meltdown over Aziraphale wanting to drive The Bentley in S2. It's a much more light-hearted group of scenes but the themes of a sense of autonomy for Crowley are still there. ("*We* don't have a car. The Bentley is *my* car.") Trusting Aziraphale to drive the car when Crowley can feel every bit of it and has no control over what Aziraphale is doing is analogous to a rape survivor with PTSD, who is now in a healthier relationship, having to learn how to trust that person enough to relinquish some control-- both in and out of bed-- to build a life with that someone. To be vulnerable around them and learn to trust that they can feel safe doing so and that everything will be okay. It takes time, no matter how much you trust your partner, and Crowley does trust Aziraphale.

See, Crowley? He's qualified.

#ineffable husbands #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #nina good omens #maggie good omens

[ragingbookdragon]

You're Feeling Ten For Ten

Task Force 141 x Reader (Actually Reader x Ghost if you look close enough) One-Shot

Word Count: 1.6K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: Hey I made a part two. Happy now? Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

The little breakroom is cozy, she decides as she plants her ass on the couch and props her legs on the other side. Cozy enough that she can already imagine some of her things here and there. A bag of Black Ivory coffee beans beside a La Marzocco Strada Electronic Paddle, a seventeenth century Persian rug, a Parsifal Round Fendi couch complete with a Metropolis coffee table, the ideas are endless, and she can’t help but begin to call in orders from her high end clients. It’s the center of her focus until a ringtone echoes from the coffee table and, her being who she is, reaches over and takes the iPhone, carefully looking over the contact.

Nannie Moira? Must be the Scots granny, she thinks and answers the phone.

“Hello!” she chirps politely and the response she gets is not one she expects.

John?

“I’ve been called quite a few things in my life, but ‘John’ has never been one of them.” She’s already pulling up the 141’s files, sliding to “John MacTavish” before she enters “Moira MacTavish” into a search bar. Of course, she comes up within the first ten searches and she smiles.

Oh, Christ, I thought I’d rung my ogha.

“Oh, you did, Missus Moira,” she answers. “I’m afraid John is out right now, but he left his phone and you seemed quite important, so why not answer?” she smiles. “John talks quite a bit about you Missus Moira.” Her eyes scan the newspaper articles from Stirling, Family of Five Killed In Massive Car Pile-Up, Leaves Boy, Two, Orphaned. “Best woman he knows, yes?”

Aye, my ogha, John. Raised the lad myself.

“Missus Moira—”

Call me Nannie Moira, darling. Any friend of John’s is a child o’ mine.

“Of course, Nannie Moira,” she smiles. “So, tell me more of John. He’s so tight-lipped about himself.”

Oh, I can talk for hours of my ogha. Did you know—

***

It’s a good half hour before the door to the break room opens and in piles four men who stop like deer in headlights as they take in the woman—they do not know—sitting on their couch, laughing as she answers, “Nannie Moira! You did not say that to Johnny’s girlfriend!” Whatever response she gets, they can tell it makes her laugh because she presses the back of her hand to her mouth.

Soap’s already headed her way at the mention of his grandmother; she bats at his hand when he tries to take the phone from her. “Oh, Nannie, I think John just got back, would you like to talk to him?” she holds out the phone expectingly and chastises, “Nannie’s very upset you didn’t call her last night.”

He takes the phone, “Nannie, are you alright?...well, yes, I know I didn’t call, I was—yes, Nannie…yes ma’am…I promise I will call you tomorrow night…I love you, Nannie.” He hangs up and glares down at her. “Congratulations, you’re invited to midnight mass on Christmas Eve.”

“Can’t wait,” she replies with a smirk and turns her gaze to Ghost. “Hi, Simon.”

“How,” he starts darkly and stalks towards her in slow, warning steps. “Did you get in here?”

She blinks owlishly at him. “Let’s see, I forged a key card, showed it to the enlisted at the gate, and you might want to actually enlighten them on who they should and should not let it, and walked right in.” she sniffs and tips her head to the air vent that they now notice is missing a covering. “Air vent was a little snug too.”

“I’ve half a mind to arrest you.”

“Oh, I can agree you do have half a mind. It’s why you’ve never managed to beat me in any fight we have.” She raises her hands like she’s waiting cuffs. “Go ahead. But if you arrest me, you won’t have a way to blow up that Syrian power plant you all are planning without leaving someone behind to make sure it does.”

That stops all of them and they stare at her, Price especially when he walks over. “You’re the woman Soap mentioned.” They all ignore how Ghost absolutely glowers at Soap who has now found the ceiling much more interesting. “How much do you know?”

“About the power plant or the mission?”

“All of it.”

She taps a pointer to her chin. “Well, that’s no fun to tell and not get rewarded. I’m not a good girl unless I get a reward, Captain Price,” she purrs and gazes at him. “In return for this information, I’m going to give you my file and you will strongly consider my…introduction, into the 141.”

“No, absolutely not,” Ghost gripes. “I am not working with you.”

“Oh, don’t hurt my feelings, Simon. We both know you and I work so well.”

“You are a killer.”

“I’m a murderer of very bad people, the same as you. So, I’d be careful waving that hypocrisy stick around—might end up with it too far up your ass.”

Ghost turns to Price. “Her name is Spades, she’s an international assassin responsible for taking out targets with the biggest bounties.”

“So, by technicality, I’m a bounty hunter,” she adds. “He’s right though, I do take out quite a few bounties. But believe it or not, the most scandalous thing about me is that I am a morally good assassin. I don’t kill good people. Only very, very, very bad people. Like the Guestroom Butcher.” She ignores the shocked stares. “God, I had to spend months in London before I got that guy. I hate London.”

“You—you killed the Guestroom Butcher?” the fourth man asks, and she peers at him.

“You must be Gaz. And yes, I did. His name was Albert Franklin. A physics teacher at a local secondary school who was a janitor part time. Spent years traveling to different guestrooms all over London to murder tourists. Such an odd man. He talked a lot before I killed him. Kept muttering something about his late wife being killed by tourists decades prior. Sad, but understandable as to why he targeted tourists.”

“And how do we know you killed him?” Gaz inquires.

“Well, my name isn’t Spades for a reason, dear,” she explains and looks at Simon. “Have my card still?” He wordlessly pulls it out and hands it to Gaz, who looks over it. “That’s my calling card. I leave it on bodies so that police know I was there. Look up the case on the internet. There’s a photo of my card.”

“How do you know someone didn’t forge this?”

“All my cards are made by hand, with gold inlay. Signed too. No one can forge my card. And no one in the business is foolish enough to get on my radar for pretending to be me. I’m one of the best there is for a reason.”

Price looks at her. “How do you know about the mission?”

“Simon forgets that he shouldn’t carry around information on a phone.”

“It was locked,” is all he replies when Price glares at him.

“Oh, it was, I unlocked it with a hacker’s bypass.” She clears her throat. “As for the mission…I know the logistics of what you’re planning. I know someone is going to have to stay behind to make sure the pressure in the facility gets high enough that it blows. I also have a bypass for that in which we don’t have to hold a funeral for someone here.”

They stare at her, watching, waiting.

She lifts a small plug, no bigger than a thumb. “This, is a kill-switch made by one of the scientists who helped build the power plant. When the Syrian government found out he was gay, they had him executed. Before that, he made this as insurance and sold it to the black market the United States frequents. I paid quite a pretty penny for it.”

“What’s it do?” Soap asks.

“This little plug will directly overload the system in fifteen minutes. There is no way to stop the overload once it’s been activated by this. That’s why it’s the kill-switch.” She rolls it in her fingers. “You insert this into the mainframe and in exactly fifteen minutes, you blow everything in a ten mile radius to kingdom come.” She smiles. “Only takes five to get out of the facility and to the rescue chopper. Ten minutes to get outside the blast radius.”

They’re silent and she knows she’s found her entrance point as she rises from the couch; their eyes follow her.

“I’ll be in my quarters. Simon, I chose the room between you and Gaz since it was vacant. Oh, and Captain Price, there’s going to be quite a few boxes being delivered to the base in the next two hours. If you would, have someone bring them to my room so I can set them up.” she gathers her things. “Also, if one of you, I’m hoping it’ll be Soap, can help me move out all that ugly military furniture from my quarters, I would appreciate it.”

She walks past them without a care in the world.

“Can’t believe you plebians live like this. What ever happened to having good furniture and a supported spinal column when you sleep?”

The door closes behind her and Simon’s the first to break the silence. “You’re just going to let her stay?”

Price glares at him. “The fuck am I supposed to do? She looks more prepared for our mission than we are right now.”

Ghost growls, legitimately growls, and says, “I cannot believe I have to fucking work with her.”

This, doesn’t stop Soap from raising his hand and asking, “Wait, so fraternization only works on folks in the military right?”

“SOAP, SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

#simon riley imagines #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader imagine #simon riley x reader imagines #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost imagine #ghost imagines #ghost x reader imagine #ghost x reader imagines #ghost x reader #ghost #141 x reader #141 #task force 141 x reader #task force 141 imagine #task force 141 imagines #task force 141 #141 imagines #141 imagine #captain john price #captain price #price #john price #john soap mactavish #john mactavish #soap #kyle gaz garrick

[justimajin]

The Profit & Love Statement » Pt. 19

↠ Pairing: Seokjin x Reader

↠ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst

↳ 3.2k / CEO AU

↠ Summary: Through hours of endless training and hard work, Kim Seokjin is finally the CEO of Kim Electronics. He has everything at his hands - status, money, power. He owes it all to you, his rigid and sarcastic mentor who overseed his entire training. But as he steps into the shoes of becoming the CEO, he can only wonder what it means for your relationship now.

↠ Warnings: so. much. fluff. (love is *indeed* in the air)

↠ Next Update: Tuesday, November 7 (series masterpost here)

You wait outside your apartment complex. 

The sun is luminous and shining brightly, the orange fall leaves descending down from trees. There’s a slight breeze in the air, making you tug your loose cardigan closer to your form. 

It’s the ideal day to go out, and the ideal day for a date. 

A sigh passes though your lips. It was just yesterday when Jin was holding onto your hands, confessing that he wanted to ask you out. While you were most definitely taken aback with his words – you weren’t entirely against the idea. 

You can’t pinpoint when it happened exactly, when the intern turned CEO seemingly became someone you knew you could lean on, someone you would look so genuinely forward to seeing. Because as hazy as it was, something just felt right when you had simply nodded, watching his expression contort into utter bliss at your response. 

Which is why you’re currently standing outside, eyes flickering occasionally over to your watch. You’re dressed in a bright yellow sundress – something Yuna had picked for you the moment you told her who you were going out with. You muse how it was incredibly amusing to watch your younger sister fuss all over you, attempting to make your hair look nice and throwing a white cardigan over your shoulders. 

Glancing down at your attire, the corner of your mouth tugs at how proud she would be. 

A couple of minutes pass by, and Jin shows up right on time with his car. 

The moment you catch sight of him, your stomach churns a bit. You know you shouldn’t be nervous, but there’s no telling the butterflies dancing in your stomach about that. 

Yanking the car door open, you slip into the passenger seat as he grins at you. 

“You look nice.” 

“Thanks.” You muse, leaning over to grab your seatbelt and buckling it. He’s dressed in a white t-shirt and black ripped jeans, a dark blue baseball cap resting on his head.

As he begins to reverse, you throw curious glances at him. 

“So, where are we going?” 

His mouth curves into a smile. “It’s a surprise.” 

You frown, mind swimming around with possibilities.

Your most likely guess is that he’ll take you to some kind of restaurant, or that he’ll want to explore around an area with a ton of them. But after twenty minutes spin away, there’s a hand planting right against your eyes. 

Your field of vision is completely cut off. “Jin!” 

“You can’t see it yet!” He chides, but you scoff. 

“I can close my eyes then!” You hear a faint ‘oh’ come from him and he releases you, resuming back to his driving. 

“Promise me you’ll keep them closed, Y/N.” He insists. 

“I will, I will.” You firmly state, hearing faint sounds of voices surround you. After a couple of minutes, the car abruptly stops and you hear Jin click off the engine. 

The door to your seat opens, and he grabs onto your hands, slowly helping you out. 

“Can I look now?” You probe, having no vision this entire time.

“Not yet.” You hear him lock the car, before your hands are being guided again. Taking small steps, the voices only get louder and louder until Jin stops you completely. 

“Okay, open them.” 

They flutter open and your jaw drops. 

Jin has a huge mischievous grin, his eyes twinkling. 

Because right in front of you, is a huge amusement park. 

“Come on, Y/N!” You don’t even have a chance to retort anything before Jin grabs onto your wrist, pulling you along. “Let’s go have some fun!” 

You follow along reluctantly. 

You didn’t realize how truly childish Jin is. 

His eyes are practically shimmering, taking all of his surroundings in one by one as he whips his head back and forth. He begins to construct a scheme on things to do and how long they’ll take for the entire day, marking everything eagerly down onto a brochure he retrieved. 

You, in the meanwhile, are caught up between observing him and trying to recall the last time you came to an amusement park. It seems like only yesterday when your parents took you and Yuna, when you were just entering middle school and the latter was a newborn. 

You hear Jin let out a loud yelp. 

Immediately swiveling around, his eyes are latched onto a specific stall and it’s not long before you’re being tugged along. 

“We need to go on this!” He gestures to one rollercoaster with too many loops that has your eyes doubling. 

You harshly gulp, “Jin, I-I don’t think…” 

“Trust me, it’ll be fun!” His hand laces with yours, an action you can’t even bring your attention to when he’s running over. The roller coaster thankfully has no line up, and you’re truthfully not so sure if that’s a good thing. 

Jin sits on your left side as you get buckled into the ride, hand still clasped with his. It begins to move slowly and you throw anxious looks at Jin, who only seems to be ecstatic that it’s starting. 

The first dip happens and you scream at the top of your lungs. 

Your heart is thudding against your chest and the wind is smacking against your face, body practically coursing with sheer fear. 

However within mere seconds, that fear morphs completely into something else. 

Your heart rate and blood pressure rises and all you can think about is how thrilling it actually is, savouring the way the wind whips through your hair and how the anticipation only builds as you go through the numerous loops. 

Once you get off, you can only stare at Jin in astonishment. 

“That was so much fun!” 

He brightly grins, “What I’d tell you?” 

“Let’s go on that one!” Now you clasp onto his hand, dragging him to another one. Jin instantly recognizes it as the infamous teacup ride. 

He smiles as he watches you wait in line, eagerly anticipating the ride as you watch others spin around. It’s a side to you that he hasn’t had the opportunity to see, one you would probably just dismiss as being childish. 

But when you grasp onto him and drag him over to one of the teacups, he’s just grateful to hop on with you. 

You spin around, squeals and giggles leaving you as all the teacups rotates. Jin has to hold onto his hat, the cap nearly disappearing with how fast you’re spinning the centerpiece around. 

Your laughter is contagious and it mixes with his own. 

Getting off the rides, you’re eager to try more – but Jin beats you to it. 

He practically loses his shit when he sees the giant Mario House. 

You loudly gasp, not knowing they had one. 

“We have to go!” You're pushing Jin towards it and laugh when he picks up on speed, practically sprinting over as you run behind. 

“Oh. My. God.” 

Jin is at the entrance, eyes wider than you’ve ever seen them. 

There’s Mario merchandise everywhere – to clothing, stationary and even snacks. 

Jin looks like a kid that’s been dropped off at a candy store. 

You watch as his eyes are darting everywhere, grabbing onto a giant Mario plushie and showing you in awe. You urge him to buy it, amongst other things he shows you, even the giant Mario cap he replaces the one he’s wearing with. 

You’re soon leaving, with Jin holding two bags that are bursting with different kinds of Mario merch and you trailing behind him, eating a bag full of Luigi themed chips. 

“Where to next, Captain?” 

He checks his brochure, mumbling underneath his breath, “We’ve done two roller coaster rides, gone to the Mario house…” 

“Can we go there?” You innocently inquire and Jin glances up. 

His smile drops. 

You’ve picked the haunted house, the place that wasn’t even on his list to begin with. 

“Uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He shifts his focus back to his brochure. 

“Why not?” You whine. 

“Y/N, there’s a guy with blood all over his face at the front.” 

“So?” It looked interesting, and you’ve truthfully never been to one. 

Jin doesn’t budge, not moving in the slightest. 

A pout forms on your lips. “Please?” 

Jin lets out a deep exhale. He knows the saying that love can turn you completely blind and to be quite honest, he hasn’t felt that statement more than right now, especially when your bright eyes flutter as you continue to pout. 

Sucking in a harsh breath, he prepares his heart and nods. “Okay, let’s go.” 

You instantly beam, your whole face lighting up. Jin fondly smiles at your reaction, but then the two of you get closer to the haunted house and it disappears altogether. 

The man at the front handing out tickets is dressed as a zombie, “T-Two tickets for the haunted house.” 

He hums, taking out wristbands for the two of you and putting it around your wrist. When he reaches down, the frantic man whispers in his ear. 

“Has anyone died going in here?” Jin truthfully ponders and the zombie grins. 

“A couple.” His heart drops and the man laughs, “Just kidding, it's completely safe and not really scary.” 

“T-Thanks, good to know.” You grasp onto his hand, leading him in. Immediately, the creepy music fills his ears, alongside the faint echoes of screaming voices. 

“Woah.” You mutter, glancing around the room to see hanging spider webs, splatters of blood, and fake skeleton bones littered everywhere. 

It almost looks too real and you’re impressed with the level of effort. 

Jin, on the other hand, wholeheartedly agrees with your statements, letting out a shriek when a spider web dangles too close above his head. 

“Are you okay?” You ask right away and Jin shakes his head, clinging to your side. 

“L-Let’s just keep going.” 

You enter more rooms, all with more intricate designs and including more props, like coffins and bats. You’re more intrigued than anything, but that’s when you realize there’s a visitor in the room. 

The man dressed as a vampire shouts a low ‘Boo!’, getting an unamused expression from you and a jolt out of Jin, before he resorts to hiding behind you as a shield. 

“Nice place you got here.” You point to the coffin on the ground, and the vampire mutters a small thanks as you leave, making you smile. 

Jin is practically glued to you, head attached to your shoulder as he lets you lead. You whirl around, having seen the majority of what you were curious about. 

“Jin, we can leave.” You whisper, “I’m serious, there’s nothing more I want to–” 

Your words are caught in your throat, a man dressed as a serial killer standing at the end of the hallway near the exit. He grins, before letting out a low groan and sludging his way towards you. 

Your heart thugs against your ribcage and you turn, tugging against Jin’s shirt, “Nevermind, we need to run!” 

He picks up the cue right away, interlacing your hands and sprinting as fast as he can. The man is on your toes, happy he’s gotten two victims. 

You reach a dead end and there’s no exit. Frantically looking around, he emerges and you let out a loud scream. 

“Hey!” Jin envelopes you immediately, waving his trembling finger against the man, “Back off!” 

The man stares at him unamused, before letting out a sigh and leaving with a mumble of ‘Man, couples are no fun.’ 

As he leaves, you touch your chest, attempting to calm your racing heart. 

Jin holds onto your shoulders, “Are you okay, Y/N?!” 

“Y-Yeah…just wasn’t expecting a s-serial killer to come out of the blue…” You sputter out. 

He stares at you intently. “I’m taking this as we leave?” 

“Yes, please.” That’s all he needs to haul you up, leading you out of the haunted house. You’re relieved to find sunshine immediately, your eyes gladly adjusting to the light. 

“Well, I’m glad that’s over.” Jin remarks and you nod. “Let’s go eat?” 

You grab onto his outstretched hand, letting him lead you to a nearby food stall. 

Turns out eating after getting scared shitless, is the absolute best. 

Jin drags you to a stall that’s selling waffles, coming with an assortment of toppings ranging from strawberries to whipped cream. You both place your orders swiftly and you muse at getting to eat some after so long, too accustomed to serving them previously with your waitress job. 

Unfortunately, Jin beats you to the bill. You don’t even have a moment to search through your wallet before he’s yanking out his credit card, sliding it over the cashier’s terminal. It earns protests from you, to which Jin just retorts with that he’s the one that wanted to take you out so you should just let him dote on you. 

Moments like that make you completely forget you’re on a date with the CEO. 

The waffle is placed within your hands and you dig in, the sweetness from the cream and sourness from the strawberries tasting all too good. You laugh when Jin takes a particularly big bite, practically stuffing his face with it. 

“That was amazing.” You exclaim, tossing out both of your empty plates. Jin hums from behind you, seemingly lost in thought. 

Swiveling around, a pair of orange cat ears land on your head. 

Jin snickers as you raise a curious brow, scrambling to grab his phone from his pocket. 

You smile unamused as he takes your picture, “You had to pick a cat?” 

“Yeah, it seemed to fit you the most.” He cheekily smiles as you roll your eyes at him. “Oh! Here.” 

He hands you a huge cat mask from the stall nearby, taking your cat ears off. You put on the mask with a sigh, watching him glance around before his eyes widen. 

“Found one!” He turns to you, “Ta-dah!” 

You burst out laughing. 

“What?” He whines, offended by your reaction. 

Yet, you can’t help it all, especially when he’s chosen a huge white alpaca mask for himself. 

“It’s just–” You wheeze, “It’s so you.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” He clasps onto your hands, bringing you closer to his mask. “Hey, I’m cute, right?” 

“Very cute.” You remark, causing him to beam. He takes out his phone, placing his hand on your shoulder to take a picture. You throw up a claw hand, attempting to mimic a cat that makes Jin laugh. 

“I’m definitely making this my wallpaper.” He taps on the screen and your eyes sweep around, before they enlarge dramatically. 

You’re tugging Jin within moments, entering into a photobooth station. 

“Quick, pose!” Tilting his head towards yours, the flash goes off. It nearly blinds the two of you, but the image of both of your masks gets captured and the machine’s rounds up for another photo. 

You hurriedly gesture for him to take the mask off and he immediately smiles, snaking his hand around your waist as the second flash goes off. 

The flashes go off twice more, one with a picture of you two doing weird faces and another, with Jin insisting that you look like you’re fawning over him, which you comedically attempt to do. 

Laughter spills from his lips. “I don’t think Yuna is the only good actor in the family, Y/N.” 

You lean over, attempting to look at the copy of the photos in his hand. The photo he refers to has your eyes extremely wide and filled with adoration, a dramatic hand covering your gasping mouth as you look at Jin, who pulls his most confident look. 

It draws a giggle out from you, before your eyes playfully snap over at him. 

“Who says I was acting?” 

Jin plays along. “You’re right, you were taking a picture with me after all.” 

“The most handsomest man ever.” You retort, causing a soft smile to grace his lips. 

“Come on.” He grasps onto your hand, “The day’s not over yet.” 

You happily accompany him with a grin. 

You start to lose track of exactly how many rides you’ve been on. 

Jin takes you on the more popular ones first, making an immediate beeline for them. It makes you laugh when he practically waves his arms frantically, grabbing the conductor’s attention instantly for tickets. There’s lines crossed off on his brochure with the amount of rides you’ve been on and soon, night falls and you’re brought to the last one of the day. 

The high view you have is expansive, the tinkering and dazzling lights illuminating the entire amusement park. Your eyes latch onto it, hands pressed against the window of the spindling ferris wheel. 

Jin watches you with a grin, smile only increasing when you twist around, finger pointing towards the first ride you were on as it starts to glow with its own fluorescent lights. 

Leaning back, he clears his throat. “Did you have fun today?” 

“Huh?” You’re too memorized, but you catch his voice and his words sink in. 

You separate from the window, knowing you would have the view for a good couple of minutes thanks to the slow motions of the wheel. 

“I had lots of fun.” You confirm, turning to him. “I wasn’t too sure of where you were going to take me, but I’m glad it was here.” 

The corner of his lips curls and he directs his gaze to the right side, staring at the lights. 

“We’re always at the office. I just wanted to take you somewhere you wouldn’t take yourself,” He glances at you sneakily, “A place where you could have a good time.” 

You catch on, “Of course, because I’m such a fun person, right?” 

“Surprisingly so.” He mutters a bit too dramatically. 

You shake your head at his antics, words laced with gratitude, “Thank you, though. I genuinely loved it.” 

His gaze connects with yours and you both smile fondly. 

Jin moves forward, his knees bumping into yours. His expression falls, a flicker of uncertainty spreading through. 

“Um, can I–” His confidence crumbles, something that has you alarmed. “I-I don’t know if this is going to be weird or anything, and I’d hate to make you uncomfortable in any wa–” 

You lean forward, intentful eyes surveying him. “What is it, Jin?” 

“Can I kiss you?” 

Your mouth falls slightly agape, smile fading. 

Jin immediately shakes his head, “Actually, you know what, forget I said anythin–” 

In a split second, your lips brush against his. It’s a bit too short and very sweet, so similar to how your entire date has felt like. 

Jin blinks wide-eyed at your actions, “I thought you’d never ask.” 

You back up with a mischievous grin, finding it lowkey adorable that all his confidence manages to flee in instances like this – but Jin doesn’t let you be the only one with the element of surprise. 

He’s pulling you forward again, planting his lips on yours. A hum of content escapes you, the butterflies in your stomach blooming. 

A few moments pass and the ride conductor halts your cart, undoing the lock before prying open the door. You and Jin both step out at the same time, faces flushed and fluctuating gazes meeting. 

You let out a giggle and Jin intertwines your fingers, exiting the ferris wheel. 

Heading back to the parking lot together, neither one of you lets go. 

#jin fanfic #bts jin ceo au #bts jin office au #bts jin fanfic #bts jin fluff #jin fluff #seokjin fluff #seokjin fanfic #kim seokjin fanfic #kim seokjin fluff #bts office au #bts ceo au #bts jin angst #jin angst #jin ceo au #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jin x reader #GEEZ #the amount of fluff in this #nearly gave me diabetes #but they're finally together!!

[catonator]

Funny heading to a blogpost on videogames that’s some sort of reference

Look, I already used the ctrl+alt+delete quote in a blogpost title. It’s February 2024, and it’s already a very wild year for gaming. We’ve had more layoffs than with the entirety of 2023, games shown off at events seem to be stagnating, interest in the art is waning. Youtube is filled with “modern gaming sucks” doomer blackpill videos. It’s a miserable time.

Is gaming just over?

Well, no. Of course not. The Sonic franchise has lingered for decades despite consistent failure. Games are more resilient than that.

Humanity’s relation to computing is still pretty fresh, and I’d say that despite the size and scale of a lot of it, we’re still going through major growing pains. Concepts like video games, the internet and special effects are still pretty new, despite being around for twice or thrice as long as most of the people reading this have been alive. Internal combustion engine -powered cars were invented in 1808, made mass produced in the 1910s, and even then it took until the 1950s for them to be common enough for the US government to bother designing cities around them. In the present day, many have come to resent the car-centric design mentality, even though the driving (no pun intended) factor behind them was mainly the same as with technology today: scientific and technological progression is unquestionably good, and therefore new and successful ideas should be pushed and relied upon as hard as possible. What could possibly go wrong?!

Video games are far from the only medium which is seeing similar problems. Movies have suffered greatly from a capeshit infestation, in which the abuse of VFX artists is valued over, you know, basics of good filmmaking, and the general public is clearly sick of it. On the internet, we’ve decided that megastructures like Twitter are better than forms of communication we’re good at, and it’s gone horribly wrong. We’re still learning the “do”s, “don’t”s and “who the fuck thought this was a good idea”s of tech.

Games as an artform are as alive as they ever were, but the sheer scale of the operations has grown to a point where nobody can really understand it. The numbers behind playerbases and the money traffic have so many zeroes that you can’t even fathom the number. Even if I used some metaphorical figure, like 20 000 cars. Shockingly, despite how console sales haven’t really increased in numbers (the top selling console of all time is still the PS2), most of the top-grossing games of all time are relatively recent. This implies that the behaviour of consumers has shifted from purchasing a variety of different kinds of games into purchasing fewer games of fewer different kinds. And I don’t think it’s a case of customers deciding to shift over naturally.

In the past decade or so, the gaming industry has decided sensible experiences are a way of the past, and the future is making games for debt and making back the money with horse armour and other garbage the general public doesn’t really want.

But we’ve seen this shit before. In the 90s, 3D was “the future”, and 2D pixel art or hand-drawn art in general seemed to go the way of the dodo for polygons and ““realism””. About a decade later, 2D art would see a resurgence and in some cases overtake the big lads in lasting impact. In the end, people crave personal stories, varying ideas, and interesting ways to tell them. Not much has changed since ancient Greeks, besides that the medium of storytelling has largely shifted from some guy standing on a stage, trying to explain another world, to electronic devices actually showing us the other worlds.

I think as we play out the Icarus stories in real time, we’ll also learn when boundaries are pushed too far, and the scale of the bullshit simply collapses in on itself. When that happens, the public is forced to step back and reevaluate the ways we thought were the future, and what really is better for all of us.

When a storm flattens a forest of dead, decrepit trees, the sun and rain can now reach the ground and cultivate a new generation of different plant life. Once hidden beneath the dead corpses, now able to grow and bloom in a way the old generation never could. You should just keep doing what you think is right. Now’s the time more than ever to be the backbone of a better industry, for many applications of tech, from games to communication. And it’s better, if the backbone comes from the grassroots, and isn’t defined by the megacorporations. Because those cunts will never learn from their failures.

#monthly blog #“montly” blog #video games #gamedev

[cloakedsparrow]

Devil May Cry Headcanon: Electronics

Demonic power messes up electronic devices, especially modern ones.

Most of the electronic disturbances so-called 'ghost hunters' attribute to spirits is actually caused by low-level demons. When the big ones come, there are issues for miles from wherever they crossed over to the human realm.

Fortuna, having a higher than average amount of demonic activity in the area and being uniquely aware of demons, have adapted by cutting out most electronics (the outside world figures it's just part of the cult's way of keeping the people from learning much about life away from the island). The Holy Order of the Sword also states that they're living more as Sparda did this way, so they consider it a win-win.

Dante, being a rare hybrid and dripping in demonic power, fucks up electronics wherever he goes. It's why he has a vintage refrigerator; an old, wired telephone; a retro jukebox that actually plays vinyls; and an old CRT television in his shop. It's also why they so often need repairs. His energy wears them out quicker, but the new stuff fries out as soon as he touches it. Sometimes even before.

One of the pizza places he favors has some old arcade machines. They hold up fine as ling as Dante doesn't actually touch them when he eats there. The owner once got a new model machine and it died as soon as Dante walked past it. Fortunately, the owner just thought he'd been right in thinking the old stuff lasts better and replaced it with another vintage cabinet.

Nero is very mechanically inclined, so he was able to get his headphones working in Fortuna, but he constantly had to work on them. His own demonic power kept growing throughout puberty, until he eventually couldn't use them after the Savior Incident. It's why he fixed up an old mini-jukebox for the Minotaurus. It's also why he built the radio-phone to use in it. A mobile branch wouldn't have worked if no one could reach him while he was working.

Nico had thought that as long as he never handled her cell phone, they'd be good, but it died from proximity when they were researching the order together.

Patty has long since learned to leave her phone at home or in her car when visiting Devil May Cry.

#Devil May Cry #headcanons #Capcom #Dante #Nero

[hirocimacruiser]

HKS ENGINE SYSTEM 5A-G

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The pinnacle of mechanical tune. HKS 5A-GEU Twin Cam

4A-GEU continues to make good progress on circuits and dirt roads around the country. HKS focused on this engine from the beginning of development and increased the bore to 1800cc. And now, we have completed 5A-GEU twin cam tuning as part of HKS System Technology. Newly developed poncam. Unique forged crankshaft. Solex twin carburetor specifications (race & dirt), etc. Levin, Trueno, and MR-2 developed into mecha tune pole sitters. The result is a remarkable increase in torque. It brings out the best of the accelerator work that only a twin cam can offer. Compatible with a wide range of specifications from street to race and dirt specifications. A new solo run has already begun.

5A-GEU TWIN CAM TUNING PRICE LIST.

FUEL COMPUTER

This F-con is an ideal microcomputer control system that constantly detects the engine load condition and adjusts the appropriate amount of fuel injection.

F-con set price ¥78,800

SLD Speed ​​Limit Defensor

Attached to computer-controlled vehicles. Disables the limiter, which normally operates at 180km/h. Wiring can be done with just one touch. HKS electronic parts are compatible with a wide range of vehicles, from normal cars to tuned cars.

Standard price ¥14,800

TWIN POWER

This is the latest high-performance ignition tuning part that combines two functions: CDI, which is the most advanced of current ignition systems, and full transistor ignition.

This is an ideal ignition system that provides good starting performance, appropriate ignition over the entire range, and extended response, with no power loss.

Standard price ¥58.000

HKS

HKS Sales Co., Ltd. Address: 418-02 Phone [phone] Kamisuide, Fujinomiya City, Shizuoka Prefecture If you would like the 1984 edition of the HKS All Catalog, please pay 4,500 yen by registered mail and the listed products. If you would like to receive materials, please enclose the product name, materials, and request ticket, and send it to HKS Sales at the above address.

#HKS 5A-G #5A-G #4A-GE #HKS #JDM

[things-about-cars-in-posts]

So, there's many of you now. I know we're in the How Sweet It Is Not To Know Follower Counts website and I do cherish that, but still, more people than ever in my life clicked a button that in some capacity says "I care what this dork has to tell me" and I want to acknowledge and celebrate that - especially now that this growth seems to have settled into its rhythm.

Spot when @identifying-cars-in-posts reblogged my pinned, lol.

So, for my 100th post, I felt like celebrating our love for reaching round numbers. And little in the automotive world represents it more iconically than what reigned supreme above all cars in the 1980s.

Porsche started out as an engineering firm, whose most notable contract was what would become known as the Volkswagen Beetle (and boy what a story that is). The first car of its own was the 356 seen below - a sporty body laid over Beetle underpinnings and thus still mostly made by Volkswagen. But by God, they were going to run with that recipe and perfect it 'til the sun burst.

Meanwhile, in England, a chap called Colin Chapman decides the next of his company's track cars will actually be drivable on the street, to need no trailer to go race. Thus the Lotus Seven is born and sold in kit, which avoids high taxes on the exporting of cars to the US (but those taxes would have remained had they been sold with assembly manuals… so they were sold with disassembly manuals for you to read backwards. No, seriously.).

The Porsche 356 kept getting less and less Volkswagen and more and more Porsche until in 1964, the year of the Beatles, the year of the Stones, the stone-age Beetle was left behind for good with the Porsche 911 (seen below), a blank-canvas take on the same recipe of an air-cooled rear boxer engine powering the rear wheels of a squished-Beetle-shaped sportscar. 'Twas good.

In 1973, Lotus was doing pretty well for itself. The Seven's whole 2500 sales had carried it through producing a number of other models, and a few were even in production concurrently - a lineup! Exciting stuff! Well, that and an F1 team so successful its Wikipedia page features the section "Domination in the 60s and '70s". The exciting opportunity to move upmarket, with bigger models with AC and automatics and all that bougie shit, pushed them to move away from the image of scruffy old kit car makers, ceding the Seven's production to the last two dealers that sold it, main one being Caterham Cars.

The 911 headed into the 80s old enough to drive, and Porsche's plans considered it at the end of the line, with staff already mourning it. But then the yankee at his third week as CEO saw those plans (which to Germans are basically scripture), said "to hell with that" and extended that line off the chart. Literally. He went to the lead engineer's office and physically took a marker at a development chart. They all secretly liked that.

Still, it was clear the game was changing - intercoolers, all wheel drive, active suspension... how hard could the 911 layout go if it didn't stick to its simple air-cooled roots? Well, Porsche resolved to find out by filling it with the cusp of automotive advancements and then some. And I do mean filling - a chassis that didn't even need space for a radiator was suddenly tasked with storing it, two turbos, two intercoolers, and a good half dozen oil pumps.

Yeah good luck with that, buddy. Oh, and materials? The body was kevlar, the frame was aluminium, the floor was Nomex (ever even heard of Nomex???), the wheels were magnesium and the spokes were hollow!!!! You could blow into the spokes!!! And don't get me started on the technology! Variable height, an all-wheel-drive system that distributed torque at will, electronics galore... As you may be able to guess, development was… complex.

At one point a test driver was doing 180km/h (112mph) to go get the car un-on-fire-d, and that's just one of the plenty horror stories. Hell, work started in 1983 to create a car for Group B and took so long that when said rally series died in 1986, production was just starting. Not that development would stop at the start of production, either - the first cars just got updated when the owners took them in for their service. (Can't blame them, I fix wording in weeks-old posts...) But however long it took, the resulting Porsche 959 answered the originating question "How hard can this chassis go?" with a resounding "Hard and then some".

It was comfortable and refined enough to be driven every day, but so capable it extended the limits of the concept of production car. Put it this way: it reached car people's favorite round number, 100km/h (to yankee doodles, 60mph) in 3.6 seconds. The second fastest production car did so in 4.6. That's one second of margin in a race that ends in five. Oh, and if you want to put it another way: the 959 was the first production car to ever surpass 300km/h, let alone come 1 shy of the mythical 200mph (322km/h).

Meanwhile, the handful of chaps at Caterham was still producing the Caterham Seven. It's the Lotus Seven (specifically the third revision, from 1968), but I guess in '83 the engine changed. We were saying?

They couldn't sell the 959 stateside for lack of crash test data, and America's ban on importing foreign cars under 25 years of age had no exception. That is, until Bill Gates wanted a 959 so bad he spent 13 years getting an exception passed. That's how hot this car is.

And yet, this record-breaking, boundary-pushing, master-of-all-trades hypercar sits atop the 80s automotive landscape engulfed in shadow. But how? Why? Because it failed to contend with the greatest automotive headache: humans. It was planted, practical, reliable, predictable - docile, domesticated, amicable. Perfect. But these are not meant to be cars, they're meant to be posters. And you don't get posters of what is perfect, but of what excites you. And what excites us is the visceral, the raw, the uncompromising - the wild, the feral, the dangerous. And, of course, reaching round numbers. What excites us is a lot more like the first production car to break 200mph, the Ferrari F40.

Remember how the 959 was being developed for Group B racing and then the series died? Well, Ferrari got screwed over too, with the 288 GTO Evoluzione they were developing (seen here to the right of the base 288 GTO) suddenly having no reason to be.

The lead engineer then asked Enzo Ferrari to let him turn that weekend project (literally, they couldn't spend work week time on it) into a road car to celebrate their 40 years. Enzo, nearing the end of his days, thought "Ah, what the hell, let's leave with a bang", so they set off to build what would become the anti-959. Not anti as in response, but as in antithesis. Where the 959 was an attempt to modernize the noisy, unrefined, old-school 911 -to make a supercar "tested for everyday usability to the most strenuous standards", by Porsche's words- the F40 was a reaction to, per Ferrari's words, "customers saying Ferraris were becoming too plush and comfortable": "nothing but sheer performance. Not a laboratory for the future, as the 959 is. Not Star Wars."

To exemplify: left is the 959 - note the leather and electric seats, right is the F40, note the string you open the door with.

The F40 was noisy, crashy, torrid, and the turbo lag painstakingly smoothed out in the 959 here kicked you in the back like a locked door. It would rip your head off the moment it sensed you didn't know what you were doing. But it was more exciting - to look at, to hear, to drive. And that's what won people over - including the buyers, which were near four times as many as Porsche's despite the price tag being double.

Had the 959 lost then? Well, not quite. Enter the 959 S. Doing away with much of the 959's luxuries, like adjustable suspension, electric windows, AC, central locking, and even backsea- wait, the 959 had BACKSEATS???? Holy FUCK why does no one talk about that??? Take the family on a trip to 300kphville! I was saying. They schlapped some bigger turbos on too and power went from 444hp right past the F40's 470hp to a healthy 508, that propelled it over what any roadgoing F40 ever managed at 211mph, or 339km/h. Presumably for bragging rights.

And I want to stress, these were titans clashing here. This was leagues beyond what other production cars could even comprehend. Again, the 959 hit 100km/h in 3.6 seconds. The F40 held a record by taking less than 16 seconds to go from 0 to 160km/h(100mph) and back to 0. This was witnessing superhumans fighting through the clouds.

And then in 1992, the two chaps that 'developed' Caterhams (i.e. banged new ones together in the shed) told the chap they worked for "Hey, let's make one that's really barebones and fast", rang up their ol' mate (and ex-F1 racer) Jonathan Palmer to ask to lend a hand, and bought some of the 250hp engine that powered the Vauxhall (British for Opel) Cavalier GSi in the British Touring Car Championship.

Thus, the Caterham Seven Jonathan Palmer Evolution - a raw, uncomfortable, uncompromising beast that went fast as all fuck. Now, if you don't know Sevens you may think "Ah, so just like the F40, what with its handcrank windows and the string to open the doorlatch and all". And to illustrate how far off that is: in the Seven the windows were sown on and you latched the door yourself with a button.

And that's the standard version which had windows and doors. The JPE didn't.

The JPE had a carbon tub you were meant to call a seat, the controls, a rev counter and a tach that didn't even bother with speed under 30mph, and fuck you. And this one is not even as barebones as it gets: this one is painted.

So while the F40 went from 1,250kg (2760lb) to 1370kg (3020lb) when adjusted to comply with US regulations and the 959 went from 1450kg (3200lb) to the lightweight S version's 1350kg (2975lb), the Seven JPE weighed 1170. As in 1170lb. 530kg. Read that again if you need to, but it had about half the power of those two and considerably less than half the car to move. And so, in January 1993, this thing -this '50s coffin with a Vauxhall engine banged together by one guy in a shed- took the Guinness World Record for fastest car to 100km/h with a time of 3.46 seconds - and the 0-160km/h-0 record with 13.1 seconds. Close your eyes and picture that.

Yet the Seven JPE is hardly known to anyone but the most hardcore of enthusiasts, and owned by barely four dozens of 'em. So did it, perhaps, ultimately lose? Not at all. In fact, none of these cars did.

Every 959 cost Porsche twice what they sold it for, but the project proved the 911's layout could stand the test of time, and its development gave Porsche technologies it gradually infused into the 911 keeping it relevant, competitive, and most importantly alive to this day.

And I think we can safely say that when Enzo Ferrari died in 1988, a year after the F40's launch, his wish to leave with a bang was perfectly fulfilled - so much so that the F40 is commonly regarded as the peak of his legacy.

And the JPE was simply the greatest Seven ever - the most raw, thrilling, pure automotive experience the streets had ever witnessed. If driving a fast car was like biking down a hill, the Seven JPE was skydiving. Hell, it was the cover car of éX-Driver, an anime about a team using old-school sportscars to rescue haywire autonomous vehicles!

Not that culturally relevant but MAN was it cool as a kid. I need to hang those damn posters one of these days. I was saying.

These are three success stories in three radically different ways. Because, as much as I've made this post all about the numbers, sometimes it's not about that. Sometimes it's about making a show, leaving a mark, being spectacular. Sometimes it's about pushing yourself to achievements you can take pride and inspiration from. Sometimes it's simply about having fun seeing just how far you can really go. Sometimes it's about deciding what you want to be and make a new favorite version of yourself, that is the best it can be at what you care the most about. And for some that may result in less popularity or success or impact or legacy than others, but those are just some of the things you can work towards. It can be okay to just work towards having a blast. Hell, those madmen at Caterham used to stay after work to build themselves track cars, race them the next day and put ‘em back in the workshop after racing them, and the company survived to this day. Because, yes, they're still around - and their new lineup topper gets to 100 in 2.8. Windshield still optional. Well, at least there's headrests now. And a wider version, for the concrete possibility that you physically don't fit.

Never change, Caterham, because you certainly never have.

Links in blue are posts of mine explaining the words in question - if you liked this post, you might like those!

#this was meant to also celebrate 300 followers #i am just that slow at writing stuff #porsche 356 #porsche 911 #porsche 959 s #ferrari 288 evoluzione #ferrari f40 #lotus seven #caterham seven jpe #vauxhall cavalier gsi #round numbers

[earhartsease]

some things most abled people don't get about wheelchairs are

1) if someone's using a wheelchair for most/all of the day, the wheelchair needs to be custom fit or it does terrible damage to your body

2) and that means they're expensive - like minimum £3k and up up upwards expensive (a custom fit powerchair can cost £20k) - mine has powered wheels and the chair and wheels together were £7.5k, and it took me a year to save up and sell stuff and fundraise to get it, and another year to raise the money for the powered wheels once I realised I couldn't push myself unaided

3) these kinds of wheelchairs are not mass produced - and being made to measure means you can have to wait up to a couple of months for a new chair to arrive (or for a repaired chair to come back)

4) and wheelchairs wear out - like cars or bikes or any form of transport that takes a hammering over time, eventually the frame or the axles or the electronics give out

so if you're dependent on your wheelchair to be able to go out or do anything at all, you have to be thinking ahead and somehow saving up for when your wheelchair needs repairing/replacing, or hoping for grants and fundraising to get you there come the time (a decreasing likelihood in these times of fucked economy when everyone's belts are tighter)

I'm partly mentioning all this because in some countries (like the US) if you're disabled and on state benefits, you can't have more than a certain amount of money saved up (an amount that wouldn't cover a new wheelchair) - but I'm partly writing this to help abled people understand what a financial trap we're in as wheelchair users, dependent on small companies who manufacture our chairs, needing to plan in advance to replace our chairs every few years, depending on how hard they get worked, and it's not like when you don't have a car but you can walk or get public transport - for most of us, without our wheelchair we can't function and may just be stuck in bed

it's very unusual these days to be able to get mobility aids paid for by the state even in countries that used to do this - here in the UK many doctors still haven't caught up with how impossible it is to get help from the NHS or the government towards our mobility now (as compared to just a few years ago), and doctors frown on us for getting hold of our own wheelchair, they can treat us like we'd bought pescription meds online, like if the wheelchair wasn't Officially Sanctioned then we obviously don't really need one and so on

I guess I'm wanting to say: be mindful of how important and hard-won our wheelchairs are, treat them and us with respect, and perhaps be prepared to help your wheelie friends find funds towards a new chair when the need arises please

edit: I wanted to add that of course loads of people who need better wheelchairs are stuck using whatever they can afford, and they equally need support and respect

#mobility aids #wheelchairs

[ghostscrown]

Randomly written ramble about LiS2 endings alert ;-; (that was initially about the Redemption ending only but then I extended it to all of the endings lmao)

The fact that, in order to get the Redemption ending, Daniel needs to have a good moral. That means not, or barely, doing anything wrong for the whole game. So when you get this ending, Sean didn't kill or hurt anyone, didn't steal anything, did absolutely nothing wrong except when he literally didn't have a choice – and the wrong things are like. Working illegally because he was homeless, running away because he was wrongly accused of murder and stealing a car because he needed to find his missing 9 years old brother. This is literally the path where you do the less wrong things in the whole game. But Sean still gets to spend 15 YEARS in jail because he was accused of a murder he didn't commit, but he didn't want to tell the truth about the accident to protect Daniel.

This is the ending where he gets 15 years of his youth stolen from him when he didn't do anything wrong. Pure injustice from the beggining to the end. I'm not joking when I tell you the Redemption ending makes me cry even more than the Lone Wolf one. Because like. The Lone Wolf one. He dies. After a while I can get over it, like... I know he dies in this one, already cried about it a couple of times, now I'm used to this ending. But the Redemption one ? Seeing the cutscene makes me cry every single time, no matter how many times I watch it.

It's just so sad because. Daniel still has a chance to get a normal life again, but if he does, he'll never be truly happy since Sean is in jail – and in the Parting Way ending, he'll be watched by autorities for his whole life since they know about his powers so it's not even a normal life. But Sean ? He just can't ever have a normal life ever again. It's prison, death, or leaving forever.

And like. In every ending, you can see they have regrets. "What if we had another ending". That's why I don't really like when people try to force their favorite ending into being "the best one", "the true one" or "the only right one" because it's literally not. They're going to regret it anyway. They seem sad in all of the endings. It's not like the other LiS where you can see the characters are confident in their final choices. Sean and Daniel aren't. In any of the endings. Especially Daniel, as we can see. He looks sad about his own choices anyway.

Lone Wolf ? "What if I listened to Sean and surrended. He would still be alive."

Redemption ? "What if we didn't surrender. We would live in Mexico together and Sean wouldn't be traumatised after having 15 years of his life taken away for nothing."

Parting Ways ? "What if I didn't jumped out of the car. I would be with Sean right now instead of never seeing him again. I wouldn't have to wear an electronic bracelet for the rest of my life."

Blood Brothers ? "What if we surrended. I would have a normal life right now. Seeing Chris and my grandparents and my mom again."

Like. To me personally, Redemption and Lone Wolf are the worst possible outcomes, and Blood Brothers is my favorite. But really, these are only personal preferences about what YOU would want in this situation, because all of the endings are bad endings anyway. Their lives are fucked up forever because random events with random people led to random accidents, and nothing can change that ever since they can't just go back in time – genius parralel to the first game. And that's just how life goes.

This game destroys me fr

#life is strange #lis #lis2 #life is strange 2 #ramble #sean diaz #daniel diaz

[kuroecchy]

the pic in the list are not mine, I just found the pics from pinterest

English is not my first language and no beta.

fair warning the theme i chose for my october prompts are completly randome so I have nothing planned for any of them.

Day 2 - Guardian

It started after that fight. Tony was sure it was gonna hit him, he had no time to dodge. So when he closed his eyes, reading himself for the upcoming pain… Well, let's just say he was confused when nothing happened.

When he opened his eyes expecting to see something, anything. There was nothing. It’s as if there was nothing aimed at him in the first place.

Dumbfounded, Tony flew down from the sky and dismissed it as him being tired.

After that his luck seems to take a nosedive but somehow he always ends up fine.

The day after that incident, Rhodey had invited him to go on a jog.

They ran around the park. It was rather uneventful; it was a simple jog while talking about random things.

What was eventful was when they were on their way back. They decided to buy some food first at the other side of the road.

They of course waited until the stop sign turned green to cross the road but a car who had not hit their break fast enough skidded to them.

They raised their hands to their face (or at least the engineer did) in a futile attempt to protect themselves.

But then… the noise of the car was behind them. Tony quickly looked and the car that had been about to hit them was now behind them driving away.

The hero once again felt dumbfounded.

He looked at his best friend only to be given a shrug.

There was nothing he could do about it if Rhodey didn't see it there's no point thinking it over. Unless he (JARVIS) hack into the security cameras.

So he dismissed it once more.

After that, strange things kept on happening.

At first it was simple things such as when he fell asleep at his workbench he would wake up with a blanket on top of him.

He has asked as unlikely as it is, whether Pepper of Rhodey had been the one who had done it (Pepper would simply wake him up and get him to his own bed, Rhodey would do a similar thing).

They both had said no. Although for some reason the female had this knowing glint in her eyes when he asked. He decided not to ask about it.

Then it started to escalate into more suspicious things. For example, he had spilled coffee on his desk so he went out to get it cleaned only to come back with it already cleaned.

He asked JARVIS about it and his AI had simply responded with it disappearing on its own.

After that Tony has a suspicion on what's been happening around him lately. And because of said suspicions he decided on letting it be for now.

It was 2 weeks later (2 weeks of bad luck and needing someone to save him) that he finally saw it with his own eyes.

It was late at night at the tower. He had been awake for more than 48 hours. The only rest he took were small power naps (He had fallen asleep for a few minutes before forcing himself to wake up).

So it wasn’t really a surprise when he had started to stumble around the penthouse half asleep searching for the coffee machine (or was he searching for food?).

He forgot that he had some electronics that he hadn’t cleaned up from last time he was tinkering with them in the common room. So of course his brain that's been running on nothing but his will power decided that it was too much to notice them in front of him.

He tripped.

Honestly at this point, the sleep deprived man was welcoming the floor, ready to fall asleep on the cold floor.

Instead he fell onto the open arms of a tall man. The hold was strong. Well maybe not the grip but the way the arm hugged tight on to him his body relaxed on their hold.

The engineer’s brain tried hard to think about who the mystery person was, he didn’t have the energy to look up to the other’s face.

So tired at first, the other was wearing fabric that’s hard to the skin and he could feel the slight tremors from the other’s hands.

The next thing he noticed was the smell, the man (he’s pretty sure that they are a man at this point) Had the smell of incense clinging to his clothing and the aroma or calming tea mixed with it.

Tony knew that based on these descriptions he’s supposed to already be able to already guess who his savior is but his brain simply didn’t want to give him the answer.

It took a familiar baritone voice for him to realize who it was, “I think It’s time to go to bed.”

He could hear the fond smile coming from each of those words.

He smiled on the others arms and muffled, “Stranger danger.”

The sorcerer huffed and decided to teleport them to his room. He put the smaller man down on the bed and spoke fondly, “Alright, off to bet with you.”

“You're no fun, Stephen.” he pouted but otherwise did as told. He crawled up to the middle of the bed and positioned himself comfortably.

Stephen had chosen to sit by the foot of Tony’s bed to make sure the other actually slept.

Tony on the other hand had started to drift off.

“Guess you’re the one that’s been protecting me…” he mumbled

“My own secret guardian…” and with that Tony went to the world of dreams, leaving Stephen a blushing mess on the foot of his bed.

~ The End ~

did i write this instead of sleeping? yes i did

apologies for any mistakes im supposed to be asleep when i was writing this

#ironstrange #stephen x tony #tony stark #tony x stephen #stephen strange #fanfic #october #writing prompts #protective stephen strange #tony stark has a heart #doctor stephen strange #stephen strange has a heart #marvel #marvel mcu #iron man #ironman #doctor strange #mcu fandom #mcu #mcu fanfiction #i don't know how to tag

[race-week]

for someone who has a hard time understanding almost everything when it comes to power units, can you explain what all the components do and how they work? also since the season is longer this year, is there any change to the power unites components?

Okay, there’s six components to the power units

Internal Combustion Engine (ICE)

Turbocharger (TC)

Motor Generator Unit-Kinetic (MGU-K)

Motor Generator Unit-Heat (MGU-H)

Energy Store (ES)

Control Electronics (CE)

The ICE is the most significant part, fuel and air are mixed and ignited, same way it happens in a road car.

The Turbocharger manages air density to generate extra engine power, hence why at races where the track is at a higher altitude the Turbo has to work harder and you often get weird noises from it

Then there’s the two motors, first is Motor Generator Unit-Kinetic (MGU-K), which harnesses kinetic energy when the car is braking, and later one is Motor Generator Unit-Heat (MGU-H), which is connected to the turbocharger and harnesses excess heat energy from the exhaust. This is then converted into electrical energy.

The fifth part of the power unit is Energy Store (essentially a battery), which as the name suggests stores electric energy that has been generated by the MGU-H and MGU-K. Eventually, all five elements are controlled by the final element, which is called Control Electronics (CE), as the name suggests it is the CPU (Central Processing Unit) of an F1 engine.

Over the course of the 2023 season, a driver may use no more than four ICEs, MGU-Hs, MGU-Ks and turbochargers, two energy stores and control electronics, and eight of each of the four elements that make up a set of exhaust systems

#al’s asks

[theoddcatlady]

There’s a Seam in Everything

Seven years ago I met the girl who could find the seams.

“You’ve got to see what Dani can do.”  

I let myself be dragged across the park, passed the swings and to the big oak tree, where a girl with long black hair sat with a pile of books beside her. She looked up at the small crowd of fellow children surrounding her, sighed, and set down her book.

“Can I help you?”  

My best friend at the time, Jacob, beamed and plopped a stuffed bear on her lap. “Do the thing! Luca hasn’t seen you do it yet!” He said.  

Dani looked at me and my gaze immediately went to my shoes. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” I murmured, feeling embarrassed about all the fuss my friend was causing.

Jacob scoffed and crossed his arms. “You don’t even know what she does yet! Come on Dani, show him!”

“I don’t mind showing you,” She said before picking up the bear. She brushed her fingers against its face and she smiled before she took her middle finger and ran it from the top of its head to its tummy. Like she’d taken a sharp knife to it, the bear split open, revealing white stuffing and the red heart that had been stuffed in there when Jacob got it. She lifted it up to show it to all of us, before plopping it back on her lap and running her finger along the tear. When she pulled her hand away, the bear was whole again, like she’d never ripped it open.  

Jacob scooped the bear back up and turned to me. “Cool, right?” He asked.

I shrugged. “I dunno. I guess?” I said, knowing I probably looked less that convinced.

Dani smiled then and got to her feet. “Okay. What do you want to see the inside of?” She asked.  

I glanced around the playground before pointing to the swing set. “That. Can you cut that with your finger?” I asked. I might’ve only been a kid, but I was definitely not convinced by just cloth.  

Dani nodded and walked over, the crowd of kids following her in awe. She patted the chain of the pink swing before her finger sliced right through one of the links. The chain came free and then she proceeded to slice open the plastic of the seat. She picked up the mangled swing, spinning around to show how it really wasn’t attached at all, before she reattached it. All with the touch of her finger.

Now that convinced me. I probably looked like an idiot, just standing there with my jaw dropped while everyone else just clapped. “How do you do that?” I asked in wonder.

Dani shuffled her feet, a small smile on her lips. “Everything has a seam I can pop open. I can do it to anything,” She admitted.  

I dug through my pockets and managed to pull out my 3DS. “Can you open this up?” I asked.

For the rest of the afternoon, Dani demonstrated her unique and bizarre powers to us. She did open up my 3DS, showing off all the electronics inside, and once she fixed it back up it booted up just like nothing had happened. She opened up a Rubix Cube, part of a branch, the monkey bars, whatever we asked she would demonstrate. Only if no adults were close though, one of the other kids suggested she open up one of the cars in the parking lot and she refused.  

One by one we all went home for dinner until it was just me and Dani. I was pretty awkward at that age, so we just stood in silence for an uncomfortably long time before I finally piped up with the question on my mind:

“What do you want to open up?”  

She stared at me in surprise for a bit before she shrugged. “I… I don’t know. I don’t really do it for myself anymore. I just do it so everyone else likes me,” She said.  

I plopped down on the ground and pulled out my 3DS. “I don’t have to be home for a while longer, my parents are working late. Want to play some games with me?” I asked.

I don’t think anyone really asked Dani to do something with them before that didn’t involve her cutting some random object open. But she slowly nodded and sat beside me, and until it got dark we played games. I probably would’ve stayed out longer if the red light signifying red battery didn’t start glaring at us.  

“I’ll come back and play with you tomorrow, okay?” I said, sticking it in my pocket.

Dani was grinning from ear to ear, her smile filled with joy. “I’d really like that, Luca,” She said.

That summer I spent a lot of time in the park. Of course it was fun watching Dani cut open whatever object we brought her, but it was more fun just…. Talking with her. She was a really nice girl, after all, just quiet. There were several times I’d be playing my 3DS while she’d watch and she’d end up falling asleep on my shoulder. She told me most nights she spent wandering around her home rather than sleeping. She never slept well.

Then one day I came to the park while it was raining. I had the stomach ache of a lifetime but I wanted to see Dani. And she was there, as always. The rain was more of a mist in the air rather than a downpour, but I was more than glad to take a seat under the tree.  

Dani, of course, immediately picked up that something was off. “What’s wrong? You don’t look so good,” She asked, pulling her knees up to her chest.

“Stomach ache. Mom said there’s a flu going around, so don’t get too close,” I said.

“What, or you’ll barf all over me?” Dani giggled before something clicked in that head of hers. “… Luca, you know when you asked me earlier this summer what I’d really want to open the seam of?”  

I nodded.

“I lied… I… Kinda want…” She blushed a little and murmured the next sentence so quietly I could barely make it out.

“I kinda wanna see if a person has a seam.”

I responded by wiggling out of my t-shirt. “Sure! Maybe you can see what’s wrong with my stomach!” I said. I know, what kind of dumb ass move is that, but I was a kid and what kid isn’t a little curious about what goes on inside them?

Dani clearly didn’t expect my enthusiastic consent, but she did a little dance in place before glancing around. “No one else is out here, but let’s go behind the bushes. Just in case,” She said.

Excitement brimming between the two of us, we hid behind the bushes as I laid down on the ground, staring up at the gray sky. It was peaceful back here. “Okay, just start checking,” I said.

Dani knelt above me and her cold fingers ran over my chest. I tried not to squirm since I was so ticklish. For several quiet seconds I just laid there, wondering when she’d start. “You can start whenever,” I said, thinking she was losing courage.

“I’ve already started…”

I glanced down and sure enough, she had. I hadn’t felt a thing but my skin over my torso had been opened right up, cut down from the top of my sternum to below my belly button. Skin, muscle and ribs were just pulled open and to the sides so Dani could dig around in my guts. She slit open my stomach and I saw remnants of digested food, the pancakes I’d had for breakfast. She sealed that back up quickly so nothing was disturbed as she proceeded to run her fingers through my intestines.

“That’s so cool,” I whispered, afraid if someone caught us now the little spell she had over me would be broken. “I’m not even bleeding.”  

It was true, there was not a single blood drop lost. Nothing seemed desperate to pop out of me either. It was just… there. I could see my heart beating, my lungs inflating and deflating with each level breath. I should’ve been afraid, but I wasn’t. I was just fascinated to see what was going on inside of my body.

“There’s something wrong.”  

Dani scowled as she continued to prod and then I felt a bit of hot pain. “Careful!” I hissed.

“Sorry! I don’t really know how, but I think something’s really wrong in here. Hold still, I’m putting you back together.”  

I stayed still as she finished zipping up my chest. I sat up and poked at my chest as if I expected my seam to burst open and everything to come spilling out all at once. “What do you mean, something’s wrong?”  

Dani shrugged. “I don’t know. I really don’t. I just looked around in there and something doesn’t feel right to me. Go talk to your mom, I think she needs to take you to the doctor. Did you really not feel anything? When I cut your seam?”  

I shook my head and got to my feet, grimacing as that pain from my gut flared up. “Not a thing. You’re awesome, Dani. I’m gonna go home now though,” I said.

“Please hurry.”

I went home and somehow managed to nag my mom long enough into taking me to the doctor’s office about my stomach ache. Course, I’m sure you guessed by now it wasn’t just a stomach ache. Appendicitis. Luckily it was all taken out before anything bad happened, but I was bedridden for two weeks.

When I was finally well enough to play, I couldn’t find Dani at the park. Asking around revealed she hadn’t been back since that rainy day.  

She was gone. And she didn’t come back into my life until the beginning of this school year.  

I barely recognized her at first. I’m not really a tall guy, but even compared to your average guy Dani was practically a tree. She cut her hair short and she’d grown up, but I saw her face and I knew.

“Dani!”  

I ran up to her and nearly plowed her over in my eagerness to get to her. Dani nearly jumped out of her skin as she looked down at me, then she realized who I was. “Luca? Is that you?” She asked.

I nodded eagerly, probably looking like an idiot. “Yes! Oh my god, Dani, you’re tall!” I said.

When she smiled, I felt like I was a kid in the park, all over again. “… And you’re still Luca. I’m so glad… I’m so glad to see you,” She said before giving me a quick hug. “Do you have lunch next period? We can talk then, catch up?”

I barely touched my food because I was just too excited to talk to Dani. She was on the girl’s basketball team, was already saving up money for college in a few years. She wanted to be a vet. Meanwhile all I did was join the school’s anime club and still have no idea what I want to do for a living, but she still listened.

We didn’t talk about seams. It was a silent agreement between us not to. I knew it happened, it wasn’t something I made up. But the seams were something from childhood. We didn’t need to open them up again… well, we didn’t. Until Dani was hit by a car and left to die by the side of the road.  

I only heard about it the following morning, one of her team members actually tracked me down to tell me. Apparently I was the only person outside of the team that was really friends with her. Dani always worked late, and while she was walking home some drunk joyriders plowed her over. She was found hours later, somehow still alive, and taken to the hospital.  

Several bones including both legs and one arm were broken. Ribs cracked. She was concussed and she lost a lot of blood. She’d be okay in the end, but there was a lot of recovery ahead of her.

I nearly cried the first time I visited her in the hospital. Gratefully she was sleeping at the time so she didn’t hear me sniffling, but I left her a card. It was sitting in her lap when I visited her the next day, and she was awake. But along with her body, her heart had been broken too.  

“… I’m never going to play basketball again.”

“Don’t say that,” I tried to soothe her.

Dani snorted. “Even if I can walk again, I’ll never walk without a limp. And running will be flat out. It’s not a big deal.” The way she shuddered when she said ‘not a big deal’ gave away quickly that it was, in fact, a big deal.

I held her hand and she squeezed her eyes tight as she struggled not to cry. “I don’t know… what to do. They have no fucking idea who hit me, I just know it was a black truck. That’s all. They ruined my life, and they’re not even going to pay for it,” She said.  

“… Dani, do you remember the seams?”  

Dani jolted like I’d hit her with a bolt of electricity. “What about seams?” She asked cautiously.

I pulled up my shirt to show off my appendectomy scar. “You were right that day. About what was wrong. I might be dead by now if you didn’t find my seam and look inside. I remember them, but do you?”  

“I’ve never forgotten.” Her good hand stroked mine and I watched as the skin split over the back of my hand. Another touch and it sealed right back up, good as new. “It’s… it’s why I want to be a vet. You know how animals I could save with my gift?

“That’s amazing,” I said, flexing my hand. “That day in the park. You didn’t come back after that.”

Dani nodded. “I… I scared myself a bit, after I cut you open. And when you didn’t come back the next day I started having nightmares that your chest exploded and all your organs slid out of you. I couldn’t want to go to the park if you weren’t there, anyway.” Her brow furrowed. “Why are you bringing this up now? I can’t heal myself, I can only close a seam I opened.”

I swallowed before leaning in close and lowering my voice. “… Does opening a seam have to be painless?” I asked.

It took a second for Dani to get it, but she shook her head. “It can hurt as much as I want it to,” She said, her gaze turning cold.

“Then leave the rest to me. You work on getting better, and I promise I’m going to find out who did this to you.”

It did take months to track them down. But I got help- the girl’s basketball team. They want to help Dani, and all I said was I was going to get her justice. They put their feelers out, and we got something.  

Cory. I never really knew Cory, he ran in a different crowd. But he had a black truck, drunk like a fiend, and rumor had it he bragged to a few close friends that he ‘ran over that goth bitch’. AKA my friend, Dani.  

My first initial instinct was to just go up and punch him in the face, but I knew that wouldn’t work. I’d just get expelled. So I did the next best thing. I knew Cory was a shitty student, and we take the same bus to school. I waited until I heard him bitching about struggling with last night’s math homework, and then I turned around.

“Hey man, if you need a bit of help, I can double check your work. Fill in all the right answers if you missed any.”

He looked baffled but handed me the paper. I did my best not to cringe at how god awful his handwriting was, but I corrected his work and handed it back just as we got to school.  

The next day Cory slung his arm around my shoulders and said, “Pal, buddy, I got a hundred percent on that last assignment. I think this is the start of something beautiful.” 

I smiled back at him. “I think it is,” I replied.

So yes, for the last month I became Cory’s personal slave. I finished his homework and in return he was somewhat nice to me. He also blabbed, a lot, and it was so hard not to just wreck his face when he told me about the night he ran over ‘the goth’.

But I just thought of Dani in physical therapy, doing her damn best to walk again, and I just smiled and laughed.  

I got the names of the two other guys in his car, his closest friends Jay and Thomas. I waited. The waiting was the hardest part, and I’m pretty sure my own grades slid a bit while I was doing both Cory’s homework and my own. But it was all worth it for tonight.  

Because tonight Cory and his friends were at a party, and I swung by at around midnight to see them stumbling out of the house, laughing their drunk asses off. I rolled down my window and called out their names, offering them a ride. They’d no doubt get pulled over in their condition, and hey, I had some more booze in my car. They could keep the party going in the back seat.  

Me, I was just the ass kissing nerd that had been doing Cory’s homework for the past month. They never even considered that I drugged the beers I so happily handed to them in the backseat. One by one they passed out, and I went onto phase three of my plan.  

I’d planned ahead. I’d let three members of the basketball team know that the kind of justice I was looking for wasn’t by getting them arrested and have them serve a nothing sentence while Dani was going to struggle for so much longer with the injuries they gave her. I knew these three would go with it.

They’d set up the perfect place. A basement in an abandoned building. I was impressed by how much effort they put into it, plastic was rolled over the floor and part of the walls, there was a pile of zip ties and three chairs set up in the center of the room. The hard part was dragging their unconscious asses down there, by the time I got the last one down there I was sweating like a pig.  

But oh, it was all worth it when I brought Dani there and she saw all three of them, tied up and just starting to stir.

She softly gasped as she looked between them. “And you’re sure these are the guys?” She asked quietly.

I nodded and gestured to them. “Do whatever you want,” I said.  

Dani grinned ear to ear before she walked up to them. Cory was the first to really come to, his eyes fluttering and he groaned before saying, “How much did I drink last night?”  

“Too much,” Dani chirped, pacing back and forth in front of her prey.

That woke him right up. Cory’s head shot up and all the blood rushed out of his face as he recognized the girl in front of him, still walking with a crutch to support herself. He of course, immediately tried to play dumb. “Do I know you? Cuz I’ve dated a lot of girls so I can’t really keep track of them-”

Dani slugged him across the face. “I’m the girl you ran over with your truck,” She said, still smiling.

Jay and Thomas had woken up from their beauty sleep by this time, Cory spat out a mouthful of blood before looking up and smirking at Dani. “Sorry, don’t remember you,” He said, smugness oozing out of the creep.

Dani circled around the trio of hungover morons, watching how Jay flinched every time he heard the sound of her crutch hitting the ground. “I think he remembers,” She hummed before she paused in front of Jay.

Jay swallowed before glancing over at the others. “No. I don’t,” He mumbled.

Dani cocked her head to the side before she lifted up her hand. She waggled her fingers and then caressed the middle one right up his jawline and over his cheekbone.  

Jay barely realized that his cheek was hanging from a last inch of connecting flesh before Dani just grabbed it and ripped it right off. Jay screamed at the top of his lungs, blood pouring down his mangled face and down his neck. I could see his teeth and gums.  

The others looked on in horrified silence as Dani dropped the piece of flesh onto the plastic. “Let’s fucking try again! Do you remember now?”  

“Yes!” Jay wailed, tears sprouting at the corners of his eyes. “Shit! It wasn’t me dr-driving, it was Cory! I thought we’d just hit a deer or something, but in the morning we heard about you! I wanted to tell someone, I swear, but they wouldn’t let me! I’m so sorry! I’m so fucking sorry!”

Dani hummed and nodded as Jay continued to babble his desperate apologies. “I believe you. So you won’t suffer any longer,” She said right before she drew her finger right across Jay’s neck.  

So much blood poured down the front of his shirt, a waterfall of blood splattering against the plastic as Jay’s head lolled down. He certainly didn’t suffer, he was dead in minutes. And all during those minutes, Thomas and Cory were screaming in terror, any of Cory’s smugness had vanished when Dani ripped open his friend’s face and cut his throat.  

Dani turned her murderous stare onto the other two, still smiling from ear to ear. Thomas glanced down at her hand and realized it first. “Where’s… where’s your knife?” He stammered.  

All she did was raise her hand into the air and waggle her fingers. “These are my knives. I’ve always been a bit special,” She carefully avoided the blood puddle as she limped over to Thomas, “And even though I’ll probably never play basketball or have my full mobility again… you can’t take away my gift to find the seam in everything.”  

With just a brush of her fingers she sliced through Thomas’ jersey, and although he begged for his life she just slowly dragged her hand from his stomach up to his collarbone while he howled in agony. Watching his skin just split by her touch was mesmerizing, the cut so precise it was like a surgeon’s scalpel. Another slice over the gut and everything just… spilled out. This was nothing like letting her find my seam in childhood, where everything just stayed perfectly still. I never knew how really long the intestines were until I watched them plop on the floor, still twitching and alive.  

Thomas stared in horror at his disemboweled guts until Dani dove her hand into his chest and I heard the loudest squish. Thomas’ eyes rolled back and he almost immediately expired. Dani pulled out the remnants of his heart before throwing it on the ground.

Cory was crying now, snot dribbling down his lips as he pulled frantically at his zip ties. “Please… it was an accident… It was just an accident, you crazy bitch!” He yelped as she trotted in front of him.

Dani had been smiling until Cory called her a crazy bitch. The smile dropped and she sighed, crossing her reddened arms across her chest. “Was it an accident that you drove drunk? Was it an accident that you just drove away, didn’t even attempt to call 911? Was it an accident you’ve spent all your time up until now laughing about running me over? Maybe I am a crazy bitch. Maybe I am. But if I’m crazy, then you’re a downright sociopath. And odds are you’ll kill someone else the next time an ‘accident’ happens.”  

She knelt down to his level and flicked his nose, watching the tip go flying off and sticking to the wall. Cory crossed his eyes to see the damage and promptly pissed himself, I could see the stain in his jeans.  

“Hey Coryyyy,” Dani giggled, her smile returning and bordering on maniacal, “You ever hear of a torture called death by a thousand cuts?”  

I’m just taking a break, Cory and Dani are still in the basement. Last I saw him though he barely even looked like a person anymore- she’d removed his nose, lips, ears, and eyelids. He’s bald, cuts covering his entire scalp. Dozens of surgical cuts are decorating his arms, legs, torso… and he’s still alive, staring unblinkingly, someplace past begging and tears.

But she’s not going to let him die just yet. After all, she’s been suffering for months because of that accident.  

He can take a few days before she finally lets him go.

#my stories