A.Journal

Checks

823 checks

Medium

It's been scrubbed clean more than once, to banish graffiti, paste, grime.

Formidable

There is a difference -- you brush against it, but all too light, too quick.

Formidable

This is bullshit.

Heroic

Feel which card is better.

Medium

Dust gathers on everything. This place has been preserved exactly as it was once left -- months or even years ago.

Medium

Her smile cracks the skin of her lower lip.

Medium

She pants slightly from the effort of extended speech.

Medium

She whispers 'sorry' to the machine.

Challenging

Her massive sweater moves in a way which suggests a shrug happened underneath it.

Easy

Your hair is drenched in sweat.

Easy

She bows her head so that you can't see her tears fall, but you still see them land. The cosmonaut shines with grief.

Trivial

Your fingertips itch with anticipated pleasure.

Easy

The heavily applied paint gives off a petroleum smell that sticks to the back of your mouth.

Trivial

You can hear someone singing, faintly. Not quite loud enough to catch the lyrics.

Medium

Ahead of you -- there.

Trivial

Most of those journals look cheap. Pulp-adjacent, really. They probably feel cheap too.

Medium

Once you're done with the sections here, you'll want to go through those big, unsorted piles too. Could be something premium in there.

Medium

Images aren't enough. You need to get hands-on -- rolling around, biting, giggling.

Medium

Feel for the most expensive magazine.

Medium

The faintly sweet smell of old paper, tinged with an unpleasant hint of mildew.

Medium

A pained intensity in his lowered voice that strains his vocal chords.

Challenging

Beneath the pleated folds of his trousers stirs something fleshy and horrible.

Easy

His only source of relief is the sweat seeping into the fabric of his wind-whipped collar.

Medium

Shortness of breath. Pale, sweaty complexion. Nosebleeds. Symptoms of hypertension.

Easy

His tie is loose, beads of sweat glint off his neck. A desperate odour emanates off him.

Easy

A resonant thud. Heavy bottom glass on desktop.

Easy

You hear her breath so clearly that you feel its phantom on your neck. As far away as ever, and somehow within reach.

Easy

She makes a sound halfway between a laugh and a sigh.

Trivial

Goosebumps rise on your neck.

Medium

You throb at her words. Your heart dances, your nipples ache.

Easy

Adoration in every hit.

Medium

For a second, you see a third eyehole open in his bag. But then it goes.

Challenging

A scent below the perceptual threshold, something the animal that is your body can smell even if you cannot.

Easy

Small creaks as he sways.

Medium

Blood drips from his mouth to his eye.

Easy

The coat's distinctive colour flashes a face within your mind.

Medium

You can almost hear the phone ringing throughout Bagman's studio, reverberating off the empty plastic cups and audio equipment.

Easy

You didn't see anything resembling a 'tank' down there, unless there are sub-levels yet to uncover...

Medium

The dishes she hands you are hot, clean, and faintly lemon scented.

Challenging

A pleasant little shiver as they pop against the edges.

Medium

Your heart flutters, races. This is scary -- awesome!

Medium

You can still feel hard edges against you, even as your mind splits into pieces.

Formidable

Your heart hollows. Just a thumping muscle where the feeling should be.

Easy

She keeps glancing at those dirty dishes; you could offer to help while she explains.

Medium

A steady crowd noise drifts over from that direction.

Challenging

Gentle heat on your skin, coconut liqueur on your tongue. He's onto something...

Medium

Smells like rubber bands, hardly vegetal. It is also very obviously dry.

Medium

Astounding. Must've been harvested just a few days ago.

Legendary

His right pant pocket creases around something narrow and weighty. A switchblade.

Easy

Keeping it quiet wouldn't go amiss.