So since Val said in the drawing video that he wishes Vox had tits so he could just suck on them all day....
Thinking about Val telling the R&D department to figure something out. It can't be That Much Harder than making different sets of genitalia for Vox to switch between, and he does have ports for nipples anyway, so why wouldn't they be able to make him a set of tits?
And of course he doesn't tell Vox, because he wants to surprise him with a prototype already prepared for them to try together. Nothing but absolute perfection will do for His Voxxy. He's down with the techs almost every day to give "constructive" criticism on everything- the size, the shape, the feel in his hands, the trigger and flow of the synthetic milk.
And, of course, Vox 100% knows the second Val had R&D start on it. He has every inch of Vee Tower under surveillance, and Valentino is one of his favorite people to watch. Even if he didn't, he has his eye on absolutely everything his company and employees are doing, and it would've taken less than an hour for him to notice a new project under way- especially one that commandeered his personal hardware upgrade and repair team away from working on a fix for his antenna.
And, of fucking course, Velvette also knows because Valentino asked her to design Vox new lingerie to wear when the tits are finished. She can't actually make it until the design is final if she wants it to fit properly, but that's not a problem- she's going to market the hell out of this line once all is said and done. Without mentioning who she designed it for, of course.
Heavily inspired by the 2009 film Redline but not a direct one to one. Future Bloodymary, but we'll see Simon later.
Ryland Grace thought that his racing days were behind him. Another chapter of his life closed. He was honestly happy that it was over. Sure it was fun: the speed, the thrill, the feeling of the wheel under his fingers, but he was better off now with a steady job that he loved and gaggles of kids to teach and inspire. It was good. He was good. His life was perfect as is.
Eva Stratt, apparently, did not get that memo.
Her introduction was quick and simple: Eva Stratt, head of Project: Hail Mary—Terra's front-runner for the Redline—and she wanted his racing expertise. Her presence was unexpected. She walked around the classroom like one would a museum. Observing the history the room held, from the desktop doodles to the solar system hanging from the ceiling.
Sol's star system seemed so small in the grand scheme of the universe, but he thought it was important that his kids knew where they came from. The galaxy was so vast now, so many new places to see and travel. Interplanetary communication had really taken off in the last millennia, he felt privileged to be born in a time where they could travel to other planets. To think that people used to believe that Terra was alone in the universe.
"Dr. Grace, you seem to think that I am asking you. I am not. I am telling you."
"Look I don't know what to tell you, I don't do that anymore," he stressed. "I'm a teacher. I ride a bike to work—I haven't even been behind a wheel in years."
"Then it is good I am not asking you to drive, am I? Dr. Grace you are one of the few people in the galaxy that managed to harness the energy of the Redline during the race and live to tell the tale. Other racers have a limited supply, but your car was rigged in a way that it could harness the material during, providing a constant supply of astrophage to consistently accelerate your car."
The Redline, also know as the Patrova Line in scientific circles, formed every twelve to fifteen years. Astrophage, the element that made up the Redline, was an amazing force of acceleration in its natural form that racers used to boost their rides. Every twelve to fifteen years though, the organism would harden and form a sturdy road throughout the galaxy, usually lasting up to four Terran days. Then the only astrophage available would be whatever you managed to harness before it solidified.
That was a neat bit of trial and error on his part. He theorized why the astrophage hardened and researched its molecular construct from previous races. He had spent all his free time designing and building prototypes to harness the hardened astrophage, not as easy at it seemed when the 'first' trial run was the actual race itself. It worked for a time, until it didn't.
"You seem to forget that same race also put me out of commission. I could have died—I should have died, for all intended rights, but I didn't. What I did was reckless and stupid, I am not risking my life just to win some race."
"That is easy to say when you almost won," she said sharply.
Almost won was a stretch. He had barley made it through the Yellowline by the skin of his teeth and had to rush through the repair job in time for the Redline. Almost made it sound like he came in second or third. Almost acts like he didn't do 8.5 consecutive cannon rolls during the middle of the race and trash not only his car but his spine. However, he was the only Terran that year and almost means a lot when you're the only one your species are rooting for.
Terra had competed in the Redline before of course, but none had done it with so little resources. Those drivers had sponsor and organizations backing their funding. People working round the clock to make sure the vehicle and its inhabitant were in top condition before every race. Ryland had what he referred to as audacity.
"Regardless," Stratt started, "your involvement will strictly be limited to the astrophage modification on our vehicles. We need every advantage we can get and you are currently our best chance."
"Wait, vehicles plural?"
"Yes, the Yellowline is almost complete and we are sure to continue into the finals. While the race is finishing, we will be modifying and testing our prototypes to prepare them for the Redline. We know what works right now, but we can make it better. You will make it better."
"Do you even know when the Redline will be usable?"
"My team estimates two weeks, three at most, before we can expect the race to begin. It is not much time to do the necessary testing, but you were harder to find then we originally expected."
Three weeks at most. That wasn't a big window at all. He couldn't imagine how much her team must have been working round the clock in preparation.
"Do I even get a choice?"
"Technically, yes. You can choose to work with me and my team to guarantee the success of our team, or you can decline our offer and you will be arrested for illegal street racing and use of false identities to evade law enforcement. I predict you will take the first option."
"What but—but that was years ago!"
"Colt Seavers, Holland March, Courtland Gentry, Sebastian Wilder—shall I go on?" She walks closer, eyes trailing down the papers in her hand to what he can only assume to be a long list of names. The corners of her mouth tilt upwards for a moment before settling into a blank expression, not a smile but the closest thing Ryland has seen since she's entered the room. "Driver was certainly an interesting choice for an alias."
Ryland huffed, arms crossing over his chest. Definitely not his proudest moment but he was young and needed to go by something. He had enough sense not to use his real name, little good it's doing him now, but all the other racers had cool titles and he panicked. His mouth working faster then his brain and coming up with the redundant name. He had enough hazing back then going by Driver—thank you—and he certainly didn't need to hear any more of it now.
"We know who you are Dr. Grace, but we have not forgotten who you were. You work with us and your history disappears, then you can come back to this." She says, gesturing across the room.
His kid’s laughter is loud outside his window, excited to go home after a long day stuck inside. He grabs a beanbag from the desk beside him, absently passing it between his hands as he watches.
"One race?"
"One."
"For how long?"
"Until the Redline is complete."
He exhales, the fight draining from his shoulders as his options are laid out in front of him. It's a no-brainier.
"When do we leave?"
"A team will be taking you to your home to collect your things, you'll have 20 minutes to pack, then we'll be taking a shuttle to the Eridian System and begin. They will be hosting all of the drivers once the Yellowline is complete. Other teams are already on site working on their cars while we all wait for the Redline to stabilize."
"And I'm just working on the astrophage?" She hums in agreement. "Fine—fine, yes I'm in I'll work on your cars."
"Good. Welcome to the team Dr. Grace. We are all excited to see what you can do."
A sliver of light creeps between my lashes, insistent, forcing me to open my eyes.
The ceiling appears blurry for a few seconds, then takes shape.
My back is aching, a dull ache runs through my vertebrae, my neck is stiff, and my legs are numb.
I sit up slowly, rubbing my eyes, until I realise where I am: my living room.
I'm on the floor, which means I fell asleep here without even realising it.
I turn my head toward the record player: the record is still there, still, motionless. And I remain still, too, as I try to recover the pieces of a dream that is already slipping away like sand through my fingers.
I run a hand through my hair. My heart is pounding, too fast to be just a sudden awakening. But I tell myself it's normal, it always happens like this when dreams are so vivid they seem real, until I open my eyes again.
Roger.
His name immediately takes hold of my mind. It's absurd how the brain can construct entire stories, detailed worlds, people who breathe and look at you as if you were real, too.
London, 1971, him... everything was so real, so intense it was almost palpable.
On my hand, I feel something soft and warm rubbing against mine: Floyd.
He's sitting next to me, looking at me with the offended expression of someone who's been ignored for too long. Then he gives me a meaningful look, as if to tell me his breakfast is hours late. So I get up, pour his kibble into a bowl, and he rushes to eat it without even deigning to look at me.
I make my own breakfast, too, and while I wait for the milk to warm, I lean against the kitchen counter and close my eyes.
The images from the dream are still there, stubborn, too clear to have been invented. His voice, his smell, that way of looking at me that no one had ever done before.
I snap my eyes open.
Enough!
It was just a dream.
As vivid as it was, as beautiful as it was, it was nothing more than a cruel trick of my brain, which first gives you everything and then takes it all back.
I glance at the clock: 7:30. I have all the time I need to get ready calmly.
I eat breakfast without savouring anything, and after showering and getting dressed, I grab my keys and bag and leave the house.
Outside, the air is always the same: the traffic, the hurried footsteps, the overlapping voices.
No trace of 1971, no magic. Just the present imposing itself with its normality.
I drive to work with a weight on my back that I can't shake; I'm in a bad mood, and there's no real reason. Or maybe there is, but it's a reason I can't tell anyone.
In the office, the smell of paper and coffee greets me. Game boxes stacked on the walls, prototypes open on the tables. Everything is identical to yesterday. And the day before yesterday. And the day before that. The same monotonous, boring routine as always.
I mumble a few greetings to the colleagues I meet, and judging by their expressions, I think they've figured out I'm not in the mood for conversation today.
I sit at my desk and turn on my computer.
Today I have to finish translating the rules for a new game. My fingers move mechanically on the keyboard, but my mind is elsewhere. And no matter how hard I try not to think about it, my mind always returns there, to last night's dream, to something that unfortunately doesn't exist.
I work a bit, translate, reread, correct, the words flow before me like a raging river.
The day passes without leaving any trace, without anything special happening, and so evening arrives and I don't even notice.
I only realise it when someone appears at my door to wish me a good evening.
So I quickly turn everything off and leave too.
I return home tired, with that flat tiredness that has nothing dramatic about it.
I turn on the light, put down my bag and coat.
Floyd comes towards me, rubbing himself against my legs, and meows as if he hadn't seen me in weeks.
“Yeah, yeah I get it…. You're hungry.”
After taking care of him, I start cooking, even though I don't really feel like eating.
I just want to throw myself in bed and sleep. And possibly get a long, dreamless sleep.
While I'm preparing dinner, I hear a sharp sound behind me, like an insistent scratching.
I turn around: Floyd is half-hidden under the living room furniture, his tail wagging nervously. He's trying to grab something; maybe one of his toys ended up under there.
"What did you find?"
I walk over and bend down. I reach out to pull it out, and when I reach in, I feel something hard and flat.
I grab it.
When I pull it out, my breath catches.
It's a 45.
But not just any 45.
It's the 45 Roger gave me before we said goodbye; I'd recognise it anywhere.
I turn it over, and the handwritten title immediately confirms it.
No.
That’s impossible.
My hands start to shake, I remain still, with the record between my fingers.
Floyd looks at me as if annoyed, then loses interest and walks away.
But not me.
I can't take my eyes off this object that shouldn't exist.
He gave it to me.
He recorded it for me.
In the dream.
But it's here, real, cold against the palm of my hand.
I feel a strange sensation rising up through my chest. My heart beats so hard it almost hurts.
It wasn't a dream.
The record is still there, on the turntable, as if waiting. I feel a strange call coming from it, so instinctively I lift the needle.
It starts spinning again, like a silent invitation.
Involuntarily, a mischievous grin creeps onto my lips. And I know that nothing is truly over.
••@hexalianrebel-blackfeathers - I'm thinking #4 (Hide and Seek) with either Miguel or Doc Ock as the ler and our favorite Spider-Gang as lees.••
TickleTober Day 4 - Hide and Seek
~Okay, I’ve been so excited to write this one! I need to show the Ocks some more love, and I absolutely adore these two! This is stupidly long. I have no regrets. Thank you for requesting, and I hope you Enjoy!~
Lees: Miles, Pavitr, Gwen, Hobie
Lers: Otto Octavious (Alfred Molina), Olivia Octavious
Summary: When stranded in another alternate dimension, Otto is recruited by an unexpected variant of himself. Things get complicated when the Spider-Gang tries to stop their heist. Finding a heart, Otto offers an ulterior method to win against their young adversaries.
Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don’t like that, scroll away!!
Otto's life had been…well, interesting was a word for it. Just when he thought he was done being tossed from universe to universe, a random portal opened and yoinked him out of the current wrong dimension, leaving him lost once again.
The new world seemed…animated, in a sense. Otto definitely didn't fit the style, what with everyone’s 3D animationesque appearances. There was no way he could get around without being recognized as an anomaly, but he couldn’t very well stay where he was…
Before he could slip further into his thoughts, a small band bounced off his head and fell into an open robotic tentacle; he didn’t know it, but it was a Spider Society day pass. A woman’s voice called from above him, sounding eerily smug and conniving.
“Come with me, Octavious 96283. We have some pests to exterminate.”
-
“So…you built all of this alone? Without funding?” Otto looked around the small lab, wondering how on Earth the woman managed to construct such high-tech equipment by herself. It was in an abandoned office building, sure, but it was still a solid facility.
“Yes. It was a hindrance to use purely damaged technology and scrapped fragments from Alchemax sites, but I think I’ve created an adequate workspace.”
Otto would hardly stop at “adequate” to describe the place. There were monitors, a small dissection area, multiple glass test tubes with various liquids, and a research station; it’s a lab his teenage self would undoubtedly be envious of.
“You mentioned pests?” He tried to steer the conversation in a more manageable direction; maybe she’d help him get home if he fed into her plot.
“I did, yes. There have been more and more of these spider pests popping up since the creation of their little Society. After their mistake ruined my research, I figured I’d refocus my efforts on eliminating them all together, starting with unlocking the mechanics of their interdimensional travel.”
Olivia didn’t stop for a single second, flitting around her lab while she spoke. “I need your help with acquiring a few parts for my newest portal prototype. Just a simple heist, nothing too flashy.”
-
He should’ve known that was bullshit.
I mean, who actually told the truth when they said “just a simple” anything? Running through the bustling, animated city with thousands of dollars of technological advances in his arms. Olivia was a version of him, after all; he never told anyone the entirety of his plans.
Things went from bad to worse when he heard the tell-tale sound of web shooters firing.
“Damn those brats!” Olivia’s hiss put him more on edge than the possibility of being arrested. The spider he was most recently with was quite nice and empathetic, but he wasn’t sure how this universe’s protector carried themselves. Wait…did she say brats, plural?
“Drop the tech, tentacle heads!” A younger-sounding voice called out right before a ball of web fluid came flying at Otto’s face. He used a tentacle to catch it, but the mechanics of the triceps were immediately clogged.
The man got a closer look as the boy – probably, he wasn’t sure – approached: black suit, red details, thin frame, wide eye mask. Yeah, that kid definitely wasn’t old enough to be risking his life like that.
To his surprise, three more costumed teens – again, not a known fact, but they definitely seemed young – backed the black-clad spider up. The varying styles shocked him: ornate reds and blues, black and white with pops of color, and all-out punk outfit with the classic colors beneath. Yeah, they were definitely from different dimensions.
Olivia, on the other hand, sprang into action. She snapped a few lines of web that were shot her way, obviously used to fending off all four of them at once. Otto couldn’t help but wince as the ornate teen was whacked into the brick alley wall by one of her tentacles.
The one in white called out and ran to him – he assumed she was a girl, given her costume and intonation – while the punk charged Olivia. Otto was playing defense against the boy in black and red, trying not to hurt him.
While the man was putting up a pretty good fight, the black-and-red Spider-Man still managed to grab his duffle bag of stolen tech. Olivia started to shout at him to get it back before a small web smacked her in the face, covering her mouth. That enraged the woman to a new extent he hadn’t thought possible.
A lot of things fell into place for the man when Olivia lobbed a steel trash can at the lanky punk; they were fighting children, or at most very young adults.The rage in the woman’s eyes… Yeah, no.
Were the teens trying to arrest them and foil Olivia’s plan? Yes. Did that stop Otto from caring that they were probably minors who definitely shouldn’t be taking that many hard hits? Abso-fucking-lutely not.
Otto reached for the bag, hoping to get it away from the boy so they could just retreat. One of his tentacle claws managed to grab the boy's side, meaning to hold him still; what he hadn’t expected, however, was the boyish squeal that ripped from the black-clad spider’s throat.
In the midst of Otto’s surprise, the teen managed to slip out of the mechanical grip and…disappear? An invisibility power would have been incredibly helpful for the boy – that is, if the duffle he was carrying wasn’t still visible.
God, these kids need some proper training…
Despite his associate’s murderous rage, the punk seemed to have grabbed Olivia’s duffle as well. Behind him, Otto caught a glimpse of the ornate boy and white-clad spiders zipping up to a rooftop. Sensing that they were fighting a losing battle, the other two followed them up, duffles in hand.
“Damn it! I need those parts, or all of this will have been for nothing!” Olivia moved to charge after them, but the man held out a mechanical arm to stop her; her fiery glare was hard to ignore, but he did his best.
“Wait. I know they’ve been pains in the asses, but we can’t… Is there really a reason to truly harm them? You have to know that they’re hardly old enough to even consider doing what they do.” Otto spoke from his heart, hoping at least a fraction of his words would hit something human within the woman.
“What do you suggest we do then? Let them get away with hours of careful preparations and the keys to my plans?”
“I have a better idea. One that involves less…aggressive tactics. You’ll still get your revenge, of course.”
Olivia quirked a brow, eyes still trained on the rooftop the young heroes fled towards. The anger was still burning on her features, but a slight tweak of contemplation tugged at the corner of her mouth. “I’m listening, 96283. Make it fast.”
-
Welp, Miles was dead. Or rather, he was going to be dead very, very soon.
One Doc Ock was already hard enough to handle, but two? Even with his fellow spiders’ help, the teen doubted they’d be able to do much against the two forces. Retreat was one of their only smart options, but he could hear the thudding of mechanical claws behind him. The duffle bag in his arms seemed to weigh more by the second, burning with the knowledge that they’d be on his tail until he either forked it over or somehow managed to find enough time to portal out.
His friends scattered around him, fanning out in their practiced formation. They’d meet up behind a small bakery before portaling back to the Society. Unfortunately for Miles, that meant he had to find a way there by himself.
As Miles swung by an alley opening, a robotic tentacle shot out at him from the darkness. He managed to keep the duffle bag out of its grip, but the four synthetic claws closed around his chest in its tight grasp.
“GYAH- get off!” Miles’s heart sank as he watched the owner of the tentacle emerge, her cold eyes gleaming behind iridescent green lenses.
“Hello, little spider. I believe you have something of mine~” Olivia grabbed the duffle with her other tentacles, but Miles held strong; he did have super strength, after all.
“Fine. I’ll get that bag one way or another, you pest.”
Before he could wonder what kind of painful torture he’d endure, Miles felt the synthetic claws dig into his stomach. Caught off guard, he couldn’t help the giggly squeak that escaped him.
“GYEEhehe! Wh-whahahat?!” Miles wriggled and squirmed in the tentacle’s grip, the lenses on his mask wide and confused. It was almost cute, though Liv shoved that thought as far back in her mind as it would go; weakness wasn’t going to get her that tech.
“What? It’s pretty obvious: give me the bag, or I make this a lot worse for you. I don’t have anywhere to be, sweetie~” Liv teased him as she worked, trying to tug the bag out of his iron-like grip. She could’ve just ripped the bottom and taken the parts…but where’s the fun in that?
“D-dohohon’t cahall me thahahat!” Beneath his mask, Miles’s cheeks warmed with red. She was just trying to kill him a moment ago; why’d she switch to doing that?! He didn’t really want her trying to kill him either, but it was an insane jump!
“Thihis ihis stuhuhuhupid!”
“On the contrary, Spider-Man, I’d say this is quite informative. I get to learn all of your weak points in just a few minutes; I’d hardly call that stupid.”
As if to prove her point, Olivia dragged two of her free claws up the red marking on his suit, stopping right below his underarms. The shrill squeal the action received was utterly adorable.
Ugh, Otto got to me, didn’t he?
“NOHOHohohooo! Lehemme gohoho!” The teen clamped his arms to his sides, still somehow managing to hold on to the duffle. He was starting to wonder if it was even worth it… No, it was; the parts still needed to be returned, even if it meant sacrificing his dignity.
“As soon as you let go of my technology, Spider-Brat.” Okay, enough games; Liv wanted that duffle bag. Forcing his arms above his head, she sent two tentacles to claw at his armpits.
Miles was not proud of the sounds he made after that.
“NAHAHAHAHA! NOHOT THEHEHERE!” Miles’s mind nearly went blank from the intense sensations shooting through his nervous system. He released his hold on the duffle bag, trying to slam his arms down.
Olivia snatched up the bag, stopping her assault to securely wrap her tentacles around it. Miles was sort-of gently put down, curling into a ball on the alleyway pavement. What the hell…?
“Was that so hard?” She dangled the bag in front of his face, taunting him. Miles tried to get back up, but he was utterly exhausted; the best he could do was shoot a web, which missed Liv by around two feet.
“As much as I’d love to rub this in, I have places to be. Try to stay out of my way, little spider~” With that, she used her tentacles to scale the side of the alleyway, taking off on the rooftops. She had an annoyingly truthful variant to find.
Miles wanted to go after the woman, but he was spent; it would’ve endangered both himself and his team if he tried fighting in that state. Shakily getting to his feet, Miles made his way to the bakery.
Hopefully the others would fare better than he did.
-
Otto almost felt bad for the spider kid he was holding. It had barely been a minute, but the guy was absolutely losing it, snorting and laughing so loudly that Otto wondered if the one he was trying to bait had gone deaf. Where was that punk?
“Stop it! Let him go, tentacle head!” Gwen shouted and squirmed in the metal tentacle’s grasp, trying to get to Pav. He wasn’t injured when he got thrown, but she still didn’t want him to be getting…tortured? She had no idea what the villain was trying to accomplish, but she wasn’t about to watch her friend struggle without a fight.
“Tentacle head? Really?” Otto smiled slightly, turning his focus on Gwen. Pav was still getting his stomach attacked, of course, but the claw on his neck left to go toy with her. “Here I thought you spiders were supposed to be funny.”
Gwen squirmed as she saw the tentacle coming towards her, but didn’t back down. It couldn’t be that bad, right? Pavitr’s stomach was just stupidly ticklish; she could tough it out until either Miles or Hobie arrived to help. Probably…
“N-NOHOHOHOT HEHER! PLEHEHEASE!” Pav did his best to try and save Gwen from his fate, but it really only made the older man chuckle. The kids were ridiculous; it was kind of adorable.
“Sorry kids, but your friend has something I need. Don’t worry; I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”
With that, the claw began squeezing at Gwen’s sides, her laughter soon joining Pavitr’s in the alley. Otto severely doubted the punk had gone very far; he just needed the boy to take the bait.
He wasn’t disappointed.
“OI! Drop ‘em, ya big sashimi!” Hobie swung into the mix, the second duffle bag hanging securely off his back. He slammed his boots into the tentacle holding Pav, causing it to drop the tired boy onto the ground. He holds up a shaky thumb before being waved away by Hobie.
“You kids and your octopus jokes.” Otto chuckled, watching his hostage stumble to his feet and swing away. The trust the kids had in each other was sweet, albeit a little optimistic.
“H-HOHOHOBIE! WHEHERE’S MIHILES?” Gwen continued to try and escape the tickly tentacle, but it was a lot harder than it looked; those things were strong. Hobie couldn’t help but roll his eyes at that. She’s being held hostage, and Miles is the thing she’s worried about?
“Ge’ your priorities straight, Gwendy!” Coming back around, Hobie fired off a barrage of webs, trying to jam the claws grabbing at him. It’s three against one, though; a claw managed to catch him by the wrist, yanking him up and into the air in front of Otto.
Hobie struggled in the tentacle’s grip as Gwen continued to laugh and kick at the one holding her. Otto knew his objective; he was just gonna goof off a bit before completing it.
“Now, I’m gonna need that duffle bag, kid.” Otto sent one of the tentacles out to try and grab the bag off his shoulders, but Hobie kicked at the biotech the moment it was in range. Fine by him; the hard way was so much more fun.
“Alright then. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, kiddo.” With that, he stepped forwards, squeezing the boy’s sides. Hobie tried to punch him, but one of his free tentacles came to hold the teen’s other wrist.
Hobue refused to giggle at first, just kicking his feet and trying to escape. When Otto reached his underarms, however, that dam practically exploded.
“GEHEHE’ OHOHOFFA MEHEHE!” Hobie thrashed about in the claws’ hold, his cheeks quickly heating up. Damn it, why’d he have to be so ticklish?!
“Wow. I mean, I wasn’t expecting my plan to fail, but you kids really are ticklish. It’s kinda adorable.” Otto teased them, willing the claw on Gwen’s sides to take things a little easier; he was mainly focused on Hobie.
“Shuhut uhuhup!” Gwen’s squeaky voice rang out beside him as she struggled. While she was grateful for the slight reprieve, Otto was still a villain. She was gonna escape and haul his strangely non-violent ass back to whatever dimension he came from.
It was at that inconvenient moment that Liv found Otto. I mean, it wasn’t hard; the sound of Hobie’s laughter and Gwen’s squeaks could be heard for at least half a mile.
“Seriously, 96283? Just keep him still.” Rolling her eyes, she went behind the squirmy teen and unbuckled the strap on the bag. It easily slipped off his back, falling straight into Liv’s arms. “Don’t mess around for too long. Those little menaces multiply.”
With that, she left Otto to his devices, getting away with the stolen goods. Hobie groaned, struggling against the claws to try and follow her. That struggle quickly changed focus when one of the wiggling claws moved behind his knees. He snorted, nose scrunching as a red hue burned on his face.
Okay, that was embarrassing. For once, he hoped Miles and Pav disregarded team protocol; they could really use some back-up.
Thankfully, those two could almost never listen.
A chunk of rubble slammed into the tentacle holding Gwen, causing it to reel back and drop her. A flash of red and blue scooped her up before she could hit the concrete.
Before Otto can react, a web ball smacks him in the face. He stumbles, the tentacles holding Hobie dropping him in favor of protecting their master. A black streak catches the tall teen, setting him down a safe distance away.
“T-toohok you lohohong enouhuhugh!” Hobie shouted after the other teen, struggling to recover from his rather silly predicament. Miles just stuck his tongue out at him before whirling on Otto.
Once Gwen was set safely aside to recover, Pavitr got back into the fray. He used his bangles and webs to sling-shot himself at the man, catching him in the chest and knocking him off balance. Miles followed suit, weaving around the tentacles to try and get as many shots in as possible.
Otto groaned, staggering as he tried to at least block the kids’ hits. He didn’t want to fight them, but…well, he did need to get back to his dimension.
“WAIT! Just- surrendering! I surrender!” Otto staggered backwards, holding his hands up defensively. Miles went to lunge again, but Pavitr grabbed his shoulder to stop him.
“Hey, hold on. He’s done.” For safety, the two webbed otto up, restraining his arms–organic and metal–before checking on the others.
Hobie, while winded, was okay; he didn’t seem too happy, though. “Whahat the fuck, Octavious? Seriously? Ticklin’?”
“Would you rather I have fought you by swinging hundred-pound metals at your heads?” Otto just smiled, apparently not that upset that he’d been caught.
“No, but…why?” Gwen walked over as well, still holding her sides; she played it off as crossing her arms. She scanned Otto with her watch, locating his universe; it was the newer, much more humane way they were returning the criminals to their dimensions.
“You’re all children, are you not? I figured it wouldn’t be too out of the ordinary.”
All four of them froze at that, sharing one quick “oh shit” look. How did he know? It was literally the first time any of them had seen him; what tipped him off?
“Hey, calm down. I’m ready to go home, not guess at secret identities.” Otto’s tone was strangely paternal, though the group chose to ignore that fact.
“I…whatever. C’mon, guys.” Gwen ushered the villain forward, dissolving the webs right as he stepped through the glowing orange portal.
After a moment of healthy silence to process whatever the hell just happened, Pav broke the silence.
“Well…that was eventful.” He chuckled as Hobie shoved his shoulder, happy to break the tension. Hobie used his watch to make a portal to his universe, tugging the joyful boy in to go watch bad movies and forget about the silly mission.
Miles took a few tentative side-steps towards Gwen, hoping to dissolve some of the awkwardness around her as well.
“Ya know…I don’t need to be home for a good few hours. We could go check out that new record shop in my universe, if you’re up for it…?”
“...alright. Can we get shakes afterwards too?”
“Yeah, no problem. Vinyl and peanut butter fudge await us.”
“Await us?”
“We’re doin’ a Shakespeare analysis, gimme a break!”
-
Oliva set down her duffles of parts, satisfied with how the day went. Sure, her variant was captured and relocated, but she got what she needed out of him. With the tech they’d managed to scrounge up, her plans were perfectly viable.
While getting the pieces organized, Liv couldn’t help but think back on the heist. One of her tentacles had a small glitch; she’d need to run a few diagnostics to see what went wrong.
She also thought about the hellions that tried to ruin her plans yet again. The method Otto implemented to subdue them, while ridiculous, had been surprisingly effective. The supposed teens’ laughter had been rather…well, adorable, for a lack of better words.
When he caught her reflection in the screen, she saw a smile, of all things, greeting her. It was a weakness, finding joy in such frivolous matters. Damn that variant and his infectious ideals!
Still, he was right; it was much easier to tickle them instead of fight.
I grew up when it was still a normal thing in the US to be able to bike unattended to school. I'm glad to see that tide is slowly starting to turn, but there's still a lot of work to do with making our streets safe for people outside of SUVs with worse sight lines than an M1 Abrams tank, but that's not what I wanted to talk about today.
No, I wanted to talk to y'all about that second meme instead, and what it's like keeping a 50 year old bike going, and when to bite the bullet and say "Yeah, it's gotta be new bike day"
So what is that 11.5kg, oversteep geared monstrosity of a bike shaped object I've been lugging around south eastern Michigan and northern Delaware these last 4 years?
Well, if you've been checking the alt text, it came out of one of Bridgestone's factories some time around 1973-1975, originally it weighed in a fair bit more, just tipping 15kg after I had initially gotten it back in working condition. As badged and labeled, it's a C. Itoh, and like a lot of the direct to consumer or in this case, drop ship import bike shop bikes of today, has some awkward English that gives you no name, but a little smile. In this case, the down tube reads "Tested Performance Bicycle with Precision Mechanism"
In all fairness, save the brakes it came with, I've got no complaints about the Shimano parts bins that were raided in out fitting them in stock form, and was with its weird and unique lug method that told me what this bike was: A Bridgestone Kabuki Skyway R/T
But how has it held up?
Well, as a lover of all things old and ratty, my relationship with this lovely machine has been all over the place. It's my first drop bar bike, I put more miles on it over the last 4 years than I had any bike since I was in the loosing side of a hit & run over a decade ago. But I also never got on as well as I could with the geometry it has, largely due to what parts it had on it, and that pain in the ass & the knees & the wrists & the shoulders & the neck that not being able to afford to have done or even understand the principles of bike fit.
So it wasn't Your fit, but how did it ride?
It rode fine, if weird. In original kit, albeit with ancient pads, a definitely contaminated rotor, and pitted hard chromed steel rims, it felt similar to any era bike that had survived with only tires, cables, and a chain once a decade or two for maintenance. The longer any gear set, bearing, or bushing goes with neglect the more expensive the repair bill gets.
Removing the toasted bottom bracket was an entire ordeal but at least the threads of the shell were fine and put up no fight in comparison to the cotter pins. I'd also mentioned that the rim brake calipers I replaced the original brakes with were period correct and can be end user refurbished. I'll try and update with pictures when I find them in a separate post just on that style of brake caliper, but Dia-Compe has some common bushing and pin sizes that they use in both some of their brake levers and some of their brake calipers. This allowed me, thanks to access to a 3d printer, to prototype replacement bushings. Seeing as I clocked something like 1,000 outside km over the last 3 years since I did the brakes? I'd say they worked.
Wred, that's how it was to maintain, not how it was to ride...?
Right, right, sorry, ADHD is a double bladed lightsaber. There were 3ish set ups I had for it:
Stock 52/40, 5x14-32 with stem shifters and Kenda vintage touring 27x1-1/8 tires
Summer 53/39, 7x11-28 with downtube shifters and Panaracer touring 700x28c tires
Winter/Gravel 53/39, 7x14-34 with downtube shifters and Kenda cyclocross 700x35c tires
Comparing them to the test rides of more contemporary bikes in each class, the funky construction of the straight wall steel being swedged into aluminum lugs combined with the slack seat tube, high rake fork, and long, slender rear stays make it feel soft, uncomfortably so even, in a nervous and uncomfortable way that the personally cramped, chasing the front end position that I never quite enjoyed on flat bar mountain or upright cruiser bikes. While a fully steel bike of the era, so long as the rust hasn't gotten to it too badly will have a lot of the same geometry based ride feel characteristics, a sweat lug, fillet brazed, or welded steel frame won't suffer from the main failing the frame as a whole is, ignoring how poor the primitive mechanical disc brake system is.
One thing I always loved about steel as a kit was the balance between zippy spring and lumbering sag that really told a fast bike from a slow bike, and a lot of it came from that combination of where the bottom bracket was compared to the wheel base and the rider. No matter where I put myself unless I was bolt upright with swallow bars, those long, slender, 435mm chain stays with the soft aluminum bottom bracket were never particularly confidence inspiring at moderate speeds (20-30km/h).
Great for slow cycling, but after 4 years, literally dragging it from my partners parents barn, knowing how old it was, it still hurt to find something in particular.
Last winter was nasty, saying Good-Bye is hard
When I did my spring maintenance this year I spotted some worrisome signs that this frame needed to be retired, though, so most of this years rides were indoor because I just couldn't trust this frame outdoors, and if something happened at least I was at home in case of emergency.
4 years of ownership, it's going up as wall art with the tag "Do not ride"
I suppose, this is the perfect time to polish of this post, at least. Maybe leave you with the question of what to do next, because having a bike to get around on is great, but do you stick with second hand, hit up the box store or drop shipper, support your local big brand bike store or local co-op? If you follow me over on Bsky you might already know which way I went already, but we'll walk through my personal shopping process at least now that we know, time for at least new (to me) frame day. Ta-ta~<3
i finally finished tng. i started tng & tos years ago — a lot of people say the first season of every star trek show is bad and i'm inclined to disagree, but i did get stuck in the first season of both shows for a very long time. i'm still only on season two of tos. i mostly appreciate it in the historical sense, both in the sci-fi storytelling and as a piece of tv history, but i don't find the stories that compelling and the pacing is so slow.
i've been trying to watch mostly in release order so i started deep space 9 after "chain of command." i'm on season four now and i'm very invested in it (good to see my man worf again). i have not started voyager yet because i flew right past the point where it aired. voyager aired after "past tense" and i went completely insane after those two episodes and not for any of the reasons you would think.
in the episode some of the main characters accidentally travel back in time to 2024. written in 1995, it's a speculative look at the near future (which is now my near past). it's a projection of what the world could look like if we don't address certain social issues — like how we treat the mentally ill, the poor, and the undocumented — there's a definite focus on class disparity and in this vision of the future the lower classes are hidden away so the wealthy don't have to think about them. it's worse than the current situation in america, but only just barely. (also worse is relative)
i was completely pulled into the story. then came a scene toward the end of the first part, where kira and o'brien are getting ready for their time travel rescue mission and kira comes out in this vest:
and i was like "i think that's crochet!" i completely missed the resolution to the second episode, and four more episodes, as i searched for a pattern/any information i could find on this vest.
the vest has completely taken over my life. i haven't found any patterns based on it. i found a blog that suggests different stitches that would make a similar vest — and with more research i think i've actually found the right stitch pattern — but i don't really have the skills to take a stitch and turn it into a vest. so i found a few vest patterns that are similar in shape, so i can get an idea of how i would constuct it. i've finished one prototype (i'm blocking it now but the picture is pre-blocking)
i'm planning my first full cosplay for comic con this year (i would say i've done a sort of disneybound version of cosplay in the past). full cosplay with the caveat that i probably won't do nose ridges. i don't even wear regular makeup so i don't think i'm going to manage to apply prosthetics (with makeup over it) by myself. i am looking at buying some bajoran earrings though.
i want to use thinner yarn on the final project and i just bought some really nice yarn from a local shop. i'll probably do another protoype with some scrap yarn before i start working on the real thing. i'm even going to do a guage swatch with the nice yarn so i can properly construct this thing instead of going off vibes and hoping for the best.
I watched the trailer for Poppy Playtime and made some theories. So let's go because I don't have anything important to do right now.
-> this house
As many people have mentioned, you can notice a Poppy doll statue on top of the house. Which makes us think that this would be the doll's house. but at first impression, I thought it was the place where the children slept.
because as we see later, the children's painting is in a place that looks a lot like a house. but to be honest, I believe that this house is an attempt to make children deluded, simulating a scenario with houses and trees so that they feel good, and feel as if they were outside. when in reality they are not.
but this house could also be a place focused on poppy, as she was probably recognized at daycare.
but I believe in two possibilities. The first is that this house is the same one where we have this room, with messy beds, objects thrown on the floor and a mysterious hole in the floor. The second possibility is the same as I mentioned before. The house is an attempt to simulate the outside of the factory, to give children a feeling of relief and comfort. Since drawings of trees and clouds are not enough to convince them.
but I truly believe that this house is just the resting place. because it makes more sense.
-> dead toys
I didn't see anyone talking about it. So I decided to give my opinion on this thing.
and well, at first, I thought about the possibility of this thing being prototype 1006, as it contains several toys together. But upon closer inspection, I realized that this is just a sculpture, or a kind of temple. As a tribute, you know? And by the random way this is constructed, I believe this had been done by catnap himself, as a tribute or meeting point for 1006.
Because it's worth remembering that experiment 1006 is seen and worshiped as a god by catnap.
And I confess that this is my only guess about these dead toys. Because to me this really felt like a tribute made by catnap himself to show his adoration for 1006. But I'm not good at making theories, so forgive me if it seems weak.
-> that smilling critter (?)
ok ok, I confess that I was very moved by this scene. Because you can see this is a bigger body, more specifically a smiling critter. And if you look closely, the ears are the same as the dogday. So I started thinking about the possibility of this character being dogday.
But I believe that dogday will not be as close to a catnap as in the series, since the characters can be enemies during the game.
And I'm pretty sure it was Catnap who chained Dogday up, probably because he didn't agree with his plans, or didn't think it was right to hurt the other toys or follow the 1006.
and remember the voice saying "Catnap. The prototype is your god. And this is what he does to heretics."? The scene cuts to the smiling critter in a cage, proving that catnap traps and tortures those he considers heretics ( as is the case with dogday. And I believe that's why he's caged ).
-> dogday
I tried comparing some images, I noticed that these appear to be the same character.
and yes, this may seem stupid or pointless. But take a good look at his appearance. The ears are identical, the body appears to be incomplete, as it does not appear to have legs ( as can be seen in both images ). And he still has handcuffs on his wrists ( and the dogday in the first image is tied to the handcuffs ).
and well, focusing on this scene where dogday chases us through the tube, I started to wonder if he's really chasing us, or if he's actually following us after being freed from the handcuffs. But since I haven't reached a conclusion, I have three guesses.
first: dogday is chasing us, following catnap's orders to attack us. For the catnap itself threatens the smiling critters into working for him.
second: dogday is our friend, and he is following us after being freed by the player ( that is, he is on our side and will help us ). and will probably be the toy responsible for attacking and stopping Catnap at the end of the game.
third: catnap is controlling dogday, that's why he's chasing us like an animal.
and I believe in all three theories. but some people said that catnap has a cult following where all the smiling critters love the prototype, and that dogday is the only one that doesn't follow that idea. This is why catnap are your enemy.
and also, there is a possibility that the red gas has a different effect on smilling critters, making them violent. and maybe that's why dogday is acting like this ( and this feeds into the theory that dogday is naturally calm ).
and this may not be important, but I noticed that this creature's hands are identical to dogday's hands in the second image.
and I believe the character in this image is dead ( and you can see the blood on his hands, as well as catnap on the floor, which would indicate that catnap killed him ).
and this makes more sense if we look at the sentence above them.
-> poppy and kissy missy
Well, from what I understand, both are on the player's side. and this is clear from the second chapter. but I confess that seeing Poppy and Kissy Missy together made me very happy. because this is proving that the two are on the same side, and perhaps following the same plans.
and looking closely at the image, you can see a kind of flashlight in Poppy's hand. and also, kissy missy seems to be holding something. perhaps her own arm is injured after struggling with a toy, or she is just holding an object.
random observation: the graphics are much prettier. especially in Poppy's appearance, as the doll seems to have more details in the hair region. and kissy missy looks different in a good and cute way
-> catnap
he walks like a real cat...that's freaking amazing and scary!!
Before this trailer was released, I imagined that Catnap would walk on two legs. but he walks like an ordinary cat, using his front and back paws. and that's not a bad thing, it's a really interesting way to show the character. mainly because he moves so calmly.
and so far we have no confirmation that catnap can talk ( and believe me, the fact that he can't talk makes the character even scarier. Because imagine that thing staring at you without saying a single word ).
and I'm not going to lie, I'm captivated by his bigger body shape. because look closely at his legs, it's as if the bones are crooked when being stretched.
and as a last guess, it would be interesting if the catnap increased in size in front of the player. because I'm sure it's not a pleasant scene, especially since he must squirm in the process.
-> phrases in red
I don't know if anyone has already talked about this. but I believe that these phrases in red are said by catnap
and an interesting detail is that the words increase in size as they appear on the screen.
Hi hello I hope this isn’t a weird ask but I’m someone that loves bookbinding and also has a graphic design degree and I’ve formatted books and such (even binded a fanfic I love for personal keeps) and I saw your post about the Second Head book you made.
First of all: absolutely gorgeous formatting and color usage and overall book design, it’s SO good and I’m actually so sad that I can’t have a copy of it but I totally understand why of course.
Second of all: do you have any images of the process you took in making the book itself like the formatting and the physical creation? It’s just so gorgeous and I love to see the process people go through with book binding, and this is just such a unique style I’m so curious!!!
Did you create this book design yourself and went through iterations before deciding this open-double-door format was best, or did you find some tutorial online for a cover like that? Did you format the pages in indesign or another program? How did you get the text block so uniform on the edge, like do you have a text block butting machine??? I have so many questions… also by the way I love the meaning behind the book, I’m the same way where I’ve noticed that phrase used in so many fics and I found it charming that so many people happen to fall into similar phrasing, like we all share something.
Have a great day!!!
To your first point, thank you for your kind words.
To your second, I posted Some process and postmortem pics to this Tumblr but not very many. It was a hairy build and I felt like I was just barely holding on. But I do have a much more in depth process for a couple other books starting here.
I like little surprises in book covers and, for this one, I knew I wanted the idea of a second head 'appearing' when closed. I do a lot of bullshitting in the design phase, not sure what I can and can't do, and the faux-French door seemed the most achievable. I made a previous book with a much more simple magnetic closure, as a proof of concept, so I had experience with how far I could push the magnets. And I think I got That idea from a store-bound journal or something? It all seemed straightforward, looking at the design in my vector program, but I should have done Considerably more half-size prototypes. Some pretty massive mistakes made it to final and that's rough.
I use LibreOffice for text block layout. My text is very perfunctory, I'm ashamed to say (if you aren't familiar, Renegade Guild is always great for looks). I used a Print-On-Demand for the block itself, which I can't, in good conscience, recommend for most cases. It's shit construction and bad paper but it allows for stress-free decorative experimentation with the physical block itself. You can T-E-L-L where my interest lies in a build.
I would very much like to see your bookbinding.
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