#I should probably stop but I'll keep going for as long as there is fuel

[val-of-the-north]

[caffeinatedattorney]

Gilda doesn't get the chance to go out often and have fun at the same time.

Her costume sucks, no doubt about it. It's the sort of thing you put together on a rush so you don't just go on your everyday clothes to your friend's costume party, though, she kind of wishes she had something less shitty that made her unrecognizable, rather than an unfun version of herself. She dressed like Dorothy... or at least she's meant to be. Her dress isn't frilly enough to resemble it and her hair is doesnt look right for pigtails. She probably ressembles an used old barbie doll instead.

She nurses her drink. A mojito because she couldn't think of anything better and motivate herself to pay for it. It eases the headache of the festivities.

This is their day, isn't it?

She manages to find fresh air, walking out of the building where people who want to talk stay. Gilda isn't sure what she wants right now, to be fair.

All she feels is... grief.

This is her fifth halloween without Harvey Dent. Her friends knew she would need emotional support and in fact, attending the party had been Gilda's idea, just to shake things up in terms of distractions.

As she takes another sip of her drink, she hears someone behind her say 'Nice Two Face costume bro!' She rolls her eyes. Sadly, this isn't the first time someone has tried to make a joke about--

"Ma'am"

It's Harvey's voice, rough but his. Gilda turns around and she knows him enough to know he's not trying to be dressed as anything. He is just Two Face. Then again, maybe he believes he is already in costume and his life is a joke. Hilarious.

That said, Gilda finds herself tearing up.

"How are you, Harvey?" Gilda asks quietly, not fully facing him. It seemed like yesterday when she and Harvey attended a party as humpty and dumpty. Harvey always had a fascination with the atmosphere of the holiday, even when he didn't have a chance to celebrate and all days blurred into endless stressful work.

Harvey keeps his distance, she isn't sure if it's for her sake or his. "You look beautiful."

Gilda laughs, she wonders what motivated him to come, or how he found her. "I look terrible."

Harvey offers his hand quietly. He seems at a loss for words, mouth opening and closing without an utterance. The song changes to something slow and something in him shifts.

After a while, he says, "...May I have this dance?"

She wonders if it was part of his plan. She can't keep herself from uttering what she always wanted to express now that she has the chance, right before taking it. "You know i'll always love you, right?"

Harvey gives her a look, apologetic. He squeezes her hand. "Not the entirety of us."

Gilda raises an eyebrow as she guides Harvey inside to the dance floor. "Do I?"

It makes them visibly back off. Ah, so it's Harv. Harv squeezes her hand apologetically. "He said he's sorry."

Before they know it, they're on the dance floor, blending in with the guests. "He's tired," Harv whispers as they start to sway to the music.

After a while, long enough for Gilda to lose herself in the motions despite the grief, he says: "He taught me how you two dance," then he gives her a tight smile, crooked and different. "I'll be tonight's consolation prize."

Gilda feels relieved. On one hand this isn't some self loathing-fueled crusade to show Harvey hasn't forgotten about her. That said, she knows how... Harv and Harvey work and how there's no exact time frame Harvey will resurface. Harv should give himself a little credit. In a way, she's being comforted by Harv's hands. He's a familiar stranger.

She grins. "You are doing great. It took Harvey years to learn not to step on my feet."

Harv laughs, like a warm smoky cackle. "He's a dumbass."

Gilda twirls in Harv's hands. "... And you are not a consolation prize."

He hums, piercing gaze warm and voice crackly like wood, as they go back to their dancing. "You don't mind me?"

"I don't think we ever talked, and if you need a place to stay--"

Harv stops, he stares at Gilda for a few seconds. He doesn't try to convince her to drop the idea or starts arguing why he doesn't deserve it. In a way, she expects Harv to have his guns on him, ready to shoot anyone who tries Two Face. Ready to protect her.

Instead, Harv smirks. "Lead the way."

One message and two black and white monster movies later, Harv and Gilda have fallen asleep on the couch together. Gilda has changed into her pajamas and Harv into Harvey's old pajamas with the ugliest sweater he could find in Harvey's wardrobe. He loves it, by the way, because it is now his.

[autumnalternating]

HI I want to talk about the Keroro platoon mechas because I love how thoughtfully they're made and how they relate to their teams dynamic <3

VERY long post under the cut.

As you can see, the first Keroro mechs combine with Giroro being the bottom right leg, Dororo being bottom left, Kururu being left arm, Tamama being right, and Keroro being the head. This is what Kururu later refers to as Robot #1.

Later, when the mechs been destroyed and Shurara throws a tantrum, the team gets saved by what Kururu has dubbed Robot #2. Notice the changes here. Giroro is now the right arm, Kururu is now the right leg, and Tamama is the left arm.

This change is a big deal!

Your legs control your mobility. These, in a symbolic sense, are who I would imagine "carry" the team, or the rocks of the team, for lack of better words.

With robot #1, the base is Giroro and Dororo. Keroro's oldest friends, people he, in almost only a familiar sense, seems to be able to rely on. While all three seem to care about each other, these two are also most likely to shoot Keroro down.

Giroro because he hates when his plans are poorly crafted, and Dororo for refusing to participate in plans deemed too violent, among other things for both men. In relation to what that says about their characters, it almost implies Dororo and Giroro have to stop Keroro from walking into dumb shit. Very literally stopping him; ie controlling his mobility. In relation to Keroro, he uses their refusal as a reason why their plans never work out, ALSO putting the responsibility onto them as mobility.

With the younger duo, Tamama is, very fittingly, Keroro's right hand. Keroro and Tamama would probably like to believe Tamama is that loyal to him. Tamama gets to fuel his fantasy of being closer to the sergeant, and Keroro gets to have someone look up to him. To feel looked up too, in the very least. Kururu is his left hand, as the person who can make pretty much anything happen. I'm sure to Kururu, it'd also be beneficial to be seen as close to Keroro. They are the most loyal to him, in his eyes. Hands.

Now Robot #2 is built SPECIFICALLY to get them out of trouble. If Robot #1 is to represent how the team as it usually functions, Robot #2 is where they're most functional, or where they need to get.

I'll start out with Tamama. It's just a part of growing up that you learn your heroes are human. (He does this in the manga at least.) This doesn't mean he wants to leave him, though. Shown with him being his left hand instead of his right, it's good not to take everything Keroro says to heart, but that doesn't mean he wants to give up on him.

Giroro is his right hand. He's also the only one who is WHOLLY focused on invasion; the reason they're stuck on this planet in the first place. While they both go back and forth at each other all the time, Giroro would die for Keroro. He's trying to get him on the most fruitful path, even though he's harsh with how he goes about that.

Kururu is his left leg. He does more than the platoon has (willingly) acknowledged. He's pretty fucking needed in the case of invasion as a base, but also, he keeps tabs on everyone. He can track them down, finds and stops dangers before they even get to them. Don't get me wrong though, there's something interesting to consider that he moved further from his captains arms. This could represent everything he's kept hidden from the team.

I could say a million things about Dororo's place, mostly because I find it so like him. He didn't move. I'm not saying everyone should shut Keroro down, but Dororo is almost always in the right when he does it. Yes, he would be in a humans perspective to the invasion, but even with Keroro's feelings in mind he does his best to keep things fair. He doesn't take out his feelings over their past. They're both not perfect to each other of course, but Dororo is right where he needs to be. Which brings me to Keroro.

Keroro is the head. I know I've talked about him in relation to everyone else in this post, but there's a reason why you need to focus on that. How he see's the team and how the team gets along changes it's functionality, and as their leader, he needs to pay attention to both. He's pretty much in charge of both. How they see Keroro, how he allows them to see him, and how he see's them is placed right in front of us.

I could easily be reading into a mech that's clearly designed to be marketable, but I'd like to believe there's more to it than that. It's shows what work Keroro needs to do with his team. Tamama's misplaced idolization, finding understanding with Giroro, getting to know Kururu's everthing, and considering Dororo in general. And when it comes back to Keroro, it shows that his team won't give up on him. They just need to get a little closer.

Four sources, the whole robot change happens in episode 203.

I don't know if this is anything, but it meant enough to me to type this out at 2 am, so I'm posting it. Please let me know what you think and if there are any errors! Also, if this does seem like I'm reading to much into it, just know I will do it again

[goodluckclove]

What keeps me from writing: my own insecurity I guess. I can write random scenes that never go anywhere but I struggle writing complete stories because that's when my stupid goblin brain will hit the breaks and be like: hold on a second, this is nothing like what the writing books say. For some reason I get stupidly hung up on doing things the "right" way (aka what some professional writing person has said). I have to actively, mentally go against it and tell myself to write things the way I feel are right for me. And on the bad days I can't tell anymore if what I just wrote is good or bad because all I can hear in my head is: this not how you're supposed to do it. I like to think I'm getting better at it.

Hi, Lych. I'm so happy to see you. Will you maybe sit down with me for a second? I was trying to get some work done today but I can't stop thinking about this question so I figure something is telling me that it's important.

Let me see your writing books. Give me those blog posts and videos too. Wow, there's a lot here, isn't there? A lot of people seem to consider themselves authorities on writing. Some people who you know are very successful, and others who you've never seen or heard of before. And they all seem to be saying something different, don't they? Or maybe they'll reference each other like they're all strands in some grand dreamcatcher of professional acceptability.

Okay, we've looked at it for long enough. What I have right here is a large bottle of kerosene - you might want to stand back, actually. I'm going to go ahead and start spraying down all these rules and standards until they're nice and rankly damp. It might take a second.

They're wrong, you know. Anyone who gives you a step-by-step guide on any form of art and tells you it's the only way to do it is wrong. Structure isn't bad, per say. If you're a visual artist, it could help to learn traditional anatomy. If you're a filmmaker, you should...I mean, it would help to know how to use a camera. You should know how to use the tools you want to use to some extent, and YouTube tutorials could be pretty useful for that -

You know what? I think the fumes are getting to me. Would you mind helping me out? Here, I have another bottle. Catch.

For some reason there's a very terrible trend of new, unpublished, non-working writers feeling like they need to give advice in absolutes instead of sharing what works for them. There's a strange height of unsubstantiated confidence in people like this that always leaves me kind of befuddled - my example is always a woman I saw online who explained that every story needs a second act twist. That still bothers me.

But it's not really any better with famous and massively successful writers who release books on how to write. Not only does it create the dangerous unspoken narrative that if someone buys the book and follows every step they'll have a carbon-copy career, but I've found that once you write for long enough you forget a lot of the struggles that beginning writers have. I've been writing for fifteen years, and I no longer really remember what it feels like to struggle in a lot of profound ways that many do. I have doubts still. I'll commonly ask myself if what I write is actually any good at all. But it comes up way less often than it used to.

You're doing a really good job. I think that's probably enough fuel.

I think this is more of an issue with those who already have a predisposition for creativity, and by what you've posted on your blog I can see that you're a very skilled and impressive artist already. Your bronze Icarus was especially touching to me, both emotionally and in the sense that I just kind of wish that I could touch it. You express movement in a lot of subtle ways. It's really cool!

Maybe switching to writing feels like starting over. Like you have to get someone's permission before you can just start. Damn, my match broke.

Where was I? Oh, right.

You know how to read, don't you? You've read stories, or had stories read to you? If so, then that's your permission right there. If you make an effort to absorb a variety of stories from different perspectives, as well as engage in the world and people around you, as well as take time for introspection towards your own inner world...well, that's everything you need. From that point on you can go to workshops and get feedback or whatever, but that's not something you really have to worry about yet.

Now that I think about it, you might be better with a matchbook than I am. A sculptor much have steadier hands than someone like me. Ah, there! Fantastic.

You know where to go from here, my friend.

[msommers]

🥪📚🤝🎒 for Riya, Meredith and one more of your choosing!

what is this?? tabby answering prompts in a timely manner??? unheard of. (mwah mwah i'm giving u kisses ty ty) // yet another oc ask game

🥪 On a scale from ‘burns water’ to ‘5 course menu’ how well can your OC cook?

RIYA — after thinking on it for a minute, i think Riya might actually have some decent baseline cooking skills purely because i can see her dad as being a great cook and he would have loved having her join him in the kitchens on occasion. and tragically Riya would do anything to see him happy, even stooping so low as to making her own brunch 🙄 i mean incredibly basic though. like she can chop the vegetables, stir the pot, keep things from burning, blah blah. no actual technical skills or know-how. so on the scale we'll give her "could cook fantasy boxed mac and cheese but you don't want her to because she's gonna complain the entire time about having to do it herself when there are actual cooks around"

MEREDITH — that b.ridgerton scene of the siblings standing in front of the stove all “well i should not know how to turn it on” “and you think i should?” but it's Meredith and Fergus. and she stays that way for the rest of her privileged life. she has more important things to do than whip up a meal! let the staff do it!! that’s what they’re paid for smh. she's a "might burn your toast because she misjudged the heat" on the scale.

GREER — she can heat up something that you give her but not much more than that. Greer spent more time in the dungeons than on kitchen duty and i wish i was joking about that. on the scale she's a "let her prep all the ingredients and i'll do the rest"

📚 Your OC has to improvise a 10 minute lecture about a topic of their choosing. What do they choose?

RIYA — if she needs to select a “serious” topic, then she’s going off on a deep dive on the history of the Free Marches Grand Tourney. it would naturally include her penchant for adding unnecessary details and perhaps a little extra drama here and there, and it’d reach a point where you can tell she stopped her research after the past eight or so tourneys (she won the 32nd so. lmfao), but at least she’s accurate and knows what she’s talking about. if she thinks she can be a little silly?? 10 minute long fantasy tier ranking of all the current top smut books in Nevarra and why her favorite is obviously #1, the others can't compete.

MEREDITH — i wanted to give her a fun answer but if it’s improvised she’d want to fall back on things she’s knowledgeable on and probably thinks she Has to excel or she’s a failure, so she’d likely go for something boring like a brief synopsis on the past decade of Landsmeet councils or explaining the basic duties and expectations of Teyrnirs and their heads. if she's feeling frisky then maybe the latest Fereldan fashion trends and their improvements on previous designs.

GREER — if she can get away with it, predictable righteous rant on the history of Templar crimes in her Circle alone. if not?? i think she could manage to scramble together a coherent ramble about theory on strong emotions affecting a mage’s casting and mana. as somebody so fueled by rage and passion she's absolutely done the research.

🤝 Does your OC have someone they want at their side when they are scared? Who?

RIYA — many people bro, she's not afraid of turning to others for support. top of the head would honestly likely be her eldest brother, Regulus. he taught her how to be brave in the first place and she'd feel fucking invincible with him at her side tbh. next in line would be Bastian but :///

MEREDITH — it's kinda fucked up and weird to say but like. anybody who is more frightened than her. because they're somebody in need and that's when it's easiest for Meredith to bury her own fear so that she can take care of them, the damn noble hero she is. if we want an actual name here then it's obviously going to be Alistair. he's her shield 💚

GREER — i don't think so, no. she learned pretty early on that she was on her own for most of her battles and adjusted to not relying on anybody for support.

🎒 If your OC had to pick three things of all their belongings to keep, which would they chose?

RIYA — she's shaking crying throwing up as she picks them but: her father's handkerchief, the golden heart-shaped locket sent by her family, and the pair of Valdivia signet rings (they're a combined set to her fuck off she's taking both or lightning bolting you about it).

MEREDITH — the Cousland shield, her father's signet ring, her mother's dagger.

GREER — her staff, a handcrafted spellbook gifted by a former apprentice of hers, the sending crystal gifted to her by Dorian.

[grits-galraisedinthesouth]

Biden: non compos mentis

Joe Biden Gives an Impromptu Presser, and No One Can Figure Out What He's Talking About

Gives an Impromptu Presser, and No One Can Figure Out What He's Talking About

By Bonchie 6:08 PM on October 18, 2023

CNN

President Joe Biden flew to Israel to meet with PM Benjamin Netanyahu on Wednesday. Whether he should have is another question. 

During a joint appearance, the American president appeared extremely fatigued, almost unable to keep his eyes open at times. He slowly read his notes, head hung low, sometimes barely audible. Things didn't get any better later when Biden decided to tell an already debunked story about being in Israel during the 1967 war. After returning to the podium to speak again, the president then announced $100 million for Gaza, money that will no doubt end up in the hands of Hamas. 

Mercifully, this was a short trip, but Biden wasn't quite done. After boarding Air Force One, he decided to give an impromptu presser. Things did not go well. 

WATCH: Pres. Biden unexpectedly addresses reporters aboard Air Force One pic.twitter.com/CxeiNEcDR3

— Breaking911 (@Breaking911) October 18, 2023

I'd try to transcribe that, but I just don't have the patience. He keeps freezing up, staring blankly for uncomfortably long periods of time, and I have no idea what he is trying to say. In the beginning, he seems to be talking about school shootings but then starts talking about people who have been victimized and are seeking hope. Is he drawing some kind of comparison to the current situation between Israel and Hamas? 

In the background, you can see Secretary of State Antony Blinken looking down at the floor the entire time. I can only imagine what was going through his mind. 

I will give the president credit for one thing, though. This reporter's snotty question probably deserved this response.

"Do you think it was necessary for you to come here?"

BIDEN: "What do you think? I'll let you answer that." pic.twitter.com/c9XvKCeZ70

— RNC Research (@RNCResearch) October 18, 2023

When asked about the Palestinian Islamic Jihad rocket that fell short and struck a hospital parking lot in Gaza, Biden attempted to say the right thing, but he just couldn't quite get it out. Instead, he went to his old mainstay of stopping mid-explanation to say "well, anyway." 

REPORTER: "People ... don't necessarily believe you or the Israelis ... didn't have anything to do with" the Gaza hospital blast

BIDEN: "I can understand that" pic.twitter.com/OgNbm1UpM3

— RNC Research (@RNCResearch) October 18, 2023

Even though the reporter's question was biased, it was a softball ready to be hit out of the park. A competent president would have rattled off the litany of evidence that has been reviewed while citing the U.S. intelligence assessment that it was not Israel. Instead, Biden stumbles with his words, seeming unsure of anything that he's saying. The lack of confidence shown will only fuel conspiracy theories to the point that I'd imagine Israeli officials were thinking "Please stop helping." 

Twice, Karine Jean-Pierre jumped into the middle of Biden's answers, appearing to try to get him to end the press conference.

REPORTER: "You said you were very blunt with the Israelis on the need to get humanitarian aid to Gaza or what exactly?"

BIDEN: "On everything. Ha ha ha" pic.twitter.com/WvCHZ4VVWf

— RNC Research (@RNCResearch) October 18, 2023

REPORTER: "What about getting people out?"

BIDEN: "The answer is we're gonna get people out, but I'm not going into any detail with you now—"

KARINE JEAN-PIERRE: "Alright we gotta wrap up" pic.twitter.com/zlx5eMjqW2

— RNC Research (@RNCResearch) October 18, 2023

Finally, Biden did decide to end things. Unfortunately, he did it at the worst possible moment.

"Are Israelis operating within the rules of war that you talked about last week?"

BIDEN: "Good talking to you all"

*walks away* pic.twitter.com/yVlUN0ljdL

— RNC Research (@RNCResearch) October 18, 2023

If Biden were trying to whip up the pro-Hamas crowd, what would he have done differently in that situation? Once he was asked that question, he needed to answer it immediately and with conviction. To not do so was a gift to those who are attacking Israel with disinformation about how they are propagating their war against Hamas The fact that he chose that moment to walk away is just terrible optics.  

Pay close attention Biden's warning:

Israel will pay a heavy price

I was VERY blunt with Israel

they will be held accountable in ways that may seem unfair

you will lose credibility worldwide

[medicdoodles]

DRAtchet week 2022 Last Day: Free Space

(First Day)||(Day 12)||(Day 13)

The after math of their reunion, Deadlock is stuck patching Ratchet up. They use this time to decide whether or not they get back together.

"You really are worst than I am." Waking up to see Drift's face so close to him... it feels so natural. And if he currently couldn't tast the after burn of purging all his fuel, Ratchet thought he was dreaming.

"Most things are." After passing out in Deadlock's arm, the mech was stuck trying to patch him up as best he could. It was only now that he could help patch up anything Drift wasn't comfortable with. "Especially since you took the time to repair me." He greatly appreciates that and lets his em field express that.

"Of course..." Drift let's himself relax, although he can see heat form around his face. "I still care about you."

Stopping the patch work, Ratchet moves his face around so he his looking up directly at Drift. He wants to see his reaction when he says, "That's good to hear. You don't have to answer me now, but Drift. Being away from you has made me understand what exactly it was you did for me." Moves his hand to hold his again. "How much I didn't value your effort to keep our old relationship. And all I did was roll over when things were too hard."

"Ratchet- Sorry if you ever felt forced to do something for me."

"And I'm sorry that I made you feel worthless. I want to make it up to you." He moves his other hand to brush Drift's face. "Because I love you."

"Oh Ratch..." Drift is tries to stop himself from crying. "Oh Ratchet still, after all this time? Now you tell me?"

"Sorry it took me to long to realize." He moves their lips closer, but never moving to kiss him. "Now it's mine turn to wait for you, and I will wait, no matter how long it takes." He plays with his fingers, preparing himself for any answer. "And if you don't want to go back to what we were. I'll take that too."

"Of course I don't want what we had." Drift moves to kiss his hand. "We were destroying each other, and I want something better."

"Equal." The way his eyes light up at that declaration, there was true hope there.

"Yeah, equals." Now, mutually they move ein for a kiss. Drift tries to deepen his but pulled out immediately and hacks out his vents.

All he can do is laugh. "Sorry, I guess I should have mentioned that I'll probably taste like blood for a while."

"It's not so much the taste." He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Just a chunk of junk hit the back of my intake."

Both of them are smiling. Broken glass, armor and covered in dried up blood, they've never looked worse. However, it's been a long time since both of them have been this happy. "I wish I could take you out to eat. Just my luck the world ended before I could ask you out."

"Well I still have some fuel left we can share that instead." Here at the end of the world, with all the blood stains shattered around them. Nothing to see but gray dust the glow from their drinks. They both see something worth rebuilding.

---

I feel like I rushed the ending but also when I added more parts the fic started to waffle about. So sorry if I disappointed after waiting for so long.

[inposterumcumgaudio]

Poedit Cut/Unused Content: Haworth Labs

So the quest "Haworth Labs" was originally quite a bit different. Its sutitles are titled "Fun and Games" in Poedit and contains some cut eavesdroppers as well as conversations Arthur participates in that imply the structure of the quest involved more environmental storytelling and choice making based on it.

Basically, rather than immediately being recognized as an interloper as you are now, you'd be infiltrating Haworth Labs and pretending you worked there. You'd periodically be dragged into conversations with other workers and if you said the wrong thing, they could determine you were a spy and raise the alarm. It explains Arthur's objective note "I'll have to sweet talk my way past these check points if they spot me in here" for the first room after decontamination.

F_DL Do you smell burned motilene?

M_AH I always smell motilene. There's cracks in most of the pipes.

F_DL No, burned motilene. You don't think they mixed up the motilene and the methyltransferase?

M_AH How? One's a fuel and the other's a catalyst. One goes in the heating coil and the other goes in the reaction vat!

F_DL I heard Frankland saying motilene when he meant methyltransferase. I thought it was just a slip of the tongue, but with Dr. V swapping around all the precursors...

F_DL Could have been worse. What if they'd swapped it for the propanyl?

M_AH Do you want tell Dr. V?

F_DL Of course not! He'll tear my head off!

M_AH Well it's not going to be me. I like my job.

M Mr. Watt seems so upset. What if we got him a present?

PC How about a pinata? Uncle Jack did a whole episode on it.

F_M But Mr. Watt hates the Spanish. Ever since Gibraltar. Everybody knows that. You're an imposter! SPY! SPY!

PC He loves art. Maybe we could get him a painting of horses, or something.

M Oooh, my stomach's growling at the very thought of horses.

F I'm sort of worried about the tunnel rats. They haven't sung in a while.

"What? They just sort of squeak, don't they?"

F The Tunnel Rats! They came to serenade us -- who are you? A SPY! A SPY!

PC I hope they're not all gone on holiday. They were down to a duet, weren't they?

F If they're all gone, who's going to fix our pipes?

F_M I should have never left the flower store. I should never have taken this job.

F Calm down, for heaven's sake. You haven't worked at a flower shop in five years!

M Have you got roses? Oh, yes, long stem or short stem. Short stem, please. And would you like some greenery with that.

F Snap out of it! It's just another day on the job!

M_EF This place has gone to the dogs since that Boyle girl left.

F_DH Oh, she broke his heart, she did.

M_EF It's worse than that. I think she was checking his calculations.

F_DH And now they won't even let her in. Oh dear. No wonder things keep exploding.

And a bunch of stuff that didn't fit neatly into the above.

The fog smells ... sort of sweet. It's not cyanide, is it?

Cyanide smells like almonds. It's probably nitrous oxide. I'd still stay out of it. Unless you need dental work!

Righto. ...Who are you, again?

I'm Reg.

Reg! Of course! I didn't recognize you.

The dimethylamino-phenylpropanol has turned into a salt!

Yes, that's normal. We isolate it as an oxalate salt.

No wonder there was an explosion! At 57 Celsius, motilene's practically itching to burst into flames!

Stop it! Just stop it! you're driving me out of my mind!

The flunitrazepam seems to be ... on fire.

05 There's a fire extinguisher in the office.

F I'm sure Dr. Verloc will come up with a better formula!

F Stop it! Just stop it! you're driving me out of my mind!

F_MS You don't work here, do you? SPY! SPY!

F_3 Oh. That's all right then.

F_6 Right! Forgot about that.

F_M Who the hell are you? INTRUDER! INTRUDER!

F_MS You don't work here, do you? SPY! SPY!

M Who the hell are you? INTRUDER! INTRUDER!

M You're an imposter. SPY! SPY!

M It's not! It's not! They've changed the formulas! The new ones have never worked. And now they're exploding.

PC Well, that'll make it easier to bottle, then, won't it?

PC Oh, Christ, where are the gas masks!

PC Ah. The good doctor left his keycard. I can get into his storage room now.

PC Heavens! Hit the alarm!

Stubbs I do not drink alcohol, nor should you attempt to induce a constable to be derelict in his duty!

Stubbs is the white bobby, by the way, for the all the apparent Stubbs/Verloc shippers out there. You could try to bribe him at a point based on this line, but he would be immune to your bullshit.

Anyway, the reason I went looking for these in the first place is because every time I play this game for someone, they get hung up on the part of the cutscene by Verloc says to do whatever they did the last time and then says that no one should know that.

Which I still don't know what it is that no one should know, but if they had kept the information checkpoint part of the gameplay, then it would have created a cool narrative twist where you had to look around for clues and information in the factory all the way up so you would know what you were talking about and not arouse suspicion, only to know too much when you get to Verloc's white bobby.

I also think that more gameplay like this would have been helpful in teaching the player how to examine the world more deeply. There's not really many quests where the information you need in is the world rather than told or given to you, but the game does use environmental storytelling a lot to enrich the narrative, only to have a lot of players not even knowing to look.

[serendertothesquad]

Seren's Studies: Odd Squad UK -- "Oddtober the Thirteenth" Episode Followup, Part 2

It Takes Oddtober to Make the Thirteenth Go Right...or something. Mashing up titles is hard.

Let's continue below the break!

Oh God, these three villains' streaming recommendations must be off the fucking charts.

"She needs a hobby," says the man who wants to go sightseeing across the country in the span of a day and is probably so anti-streaming it hurts.

*claps four times* THASS' IT. THASS' TH' BITCH. THERE IT IS. WE GET A WHOLE GROUP OF SLEEP RIGHT HERE. THE WHOLE 'FECTA. THE WHOLE FIVE-FECTA.

Ahhhh Omar...keep playin' your classic one-hit wonder. At this rate if there's a Season 2/Season 5 and they bring him back we'll get a UK version of "In Your Dreams" and oh God I just made myself sick even thinking about that.

Cinema etiquette, this girl does not have.

I can't exactly say that this is a movie that was cobbled together in the span of a few minutes, because that's horseshit...but this is a movie not even Netflix would have in its own bargain bin.

*low groan through gritted teeth*

I kinda knew this was coming, but they had a chance to do a lobotomy on Opie while she was snoring away just before.

Ha...aha...heh...THAT'S WHERE THIS CLIP COMES FROM?????

God, my guess was way the fuck off.

Captain O has a chance to do the funniest thing, but she won't, because this episode won't go that far and she's not as fueled by anger as Oprah was.

This stupidity is crazy irritating, and I hate it, and it kills any momentum I would have had for this rip of an episode.

"Should we be in here?"

"Yes! No. No wait, yes! We're main characters, remember?"

"Oh...right."

draws the line at safety clothing

but...not at framed chessboards

You fucking hypocrite.

No, seriously, what stick up her ass does Orli have in this episode that she's going after every villain's jugulars for their likes? Not even Olympia, Otis and Oprah did that! I mean...they thought the ambassadors' likes were weird, but...they didn't outright insult them.

Omar, stop writing self-aware shit and just stick to your cry-for-help sleeping schtick. There are better ways to write Orli as being self-aware.

*long long sigh*

No, Omar, giving Opie karma by way of taking away her picnic blanket and using it as a gift is not viable either. She needs much bigger karma than that.

I see Orli's been hanging around Onom long enough to know The Art of the Lung-Bursting Gasp.

*deep inhale*

I just...fuck's sake, Opie, just say yes. Better yet, Ozzie, snatch it from her damn hands and book it.

Once again, lemme reiterate: they could just as easily lie and say they hate it.

But of course now is the end of the episode, so that's...not really possible. Gotta wrap shit up somehow.

Okay, this bit isn't funny. It was never funny. Repeating it over and over doesn't make it funny.

Yeeeeeah, happy Oddtober the Thirteenth!

Now go watch the original Oddtober episodes from 2015 and actually enjoy yourselves with much better content.

And your credits for this episode. I actually got Fluorescent Florie's name right, which I definitely wasn't expecting.

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

Overall...yeah...you can kinda see where this is going, huh? Blah blah "It Takes Goo" rip, blah blah it did this far better. To be fair, though, that episode did it first and did it far better. No stupidity that sends me into a blinding-white-hot rage, we actually get a little bit of lore, and we get an Oprah laugh that is so pure and innocent I can't help but smile. Oh yeah, and the whole...goo thing at the end...the innuendo...yeah. There's no innuendos found here, just the tainting of a punny name that was already used for something better 9 years ago and a complete and utter rip of a better episode that's one of the most blatant rips of the entire season. Like, "The B Team" levels of rip. And I hated my father "The B Team".

Load it into the cannon, fire it into the sun, and I'll see y'all for "Agent Overhill's Last Day" in (hopefully) a few days. Villain X be damned, I don't think I'll enjoy that one either.

Seren out!

[imsogayyippee]

favorite lyric from each mcr album?

oh that's. pretty hard to decide hold on

long ass post sooo ↓

so from bullets, some lines i really like are:

"and you must keep your soul like a secret in your throat" (vampires will never hurt you)

"Oh, how wrong we were to think that immortality meant never dying" (our lady of sorrows)

"with ice cold hands and grabs a hold of your heart/that's if you've still got one that's left inside that cave you call a chest" (skylines and turnstiles)

"i'd end my days with you in a hail of bullets" (demolition lovers)

"And after all the things we put each other through and/I would drive on to the end with you/a liquor store or two keeps the gas tank full and/I feel like there's nothing left to do/But prove myself to you and we'll keep it running" (demolition lovers)

"All we are, all we are/Is bullets, I mean this" (demolition lovers)

"As lead rains will pass on through our phantoms/Forever, forever/Like scarecrows that fuel this flame we're burning/Forever and ever/Know how much I want to show you you're the only one/Like a bed of roses, there's a dozen reasons in this gun" (demolition lovers)

from three cheers for sweet revenge:

"Can you hear me?/Are you near me?/Can we pretend to leave and then/We'll meet again/When both our cars collide" (helena)

"well, don't I look pretty walking down the street in the best damn dress I own?" (give 'em hell, kid)

"pain in my heart for your dying wish/I'll kiss your lips again, yeah" (you know what they do to guys like us in prison)

"pull the plug, but i'd like to learn your name/when holding on/oh, i hope you do the same" (the jetset life is gonna kill you)

"Preach all you want, but who's gonna save me?/I keep a gun in the book you gave me" (thank you for the venom)

"Don't stop if I fall and don't look back/Oh, baby, don't stop/Bury me and fade to black" (hang 'em high)

"when you go, just know that I will remember you/if living was the hardest part/we'll then one day be together/and in the end we'll fall apart/just like the leaves change in colors" (it's not a fashion statement, it's a fucking deathwish)

"And we'll love again, we'll laugh again, we'll cry again, and we'll dance again!/and it's better off this way, so much better off this way/I can't clean the blood off the sheets in my bed!/and never again, and never again/they gave us two shots to the back of the head/and we're all dead now" (i never told you what i do for a living)

from the black parade:

"you might wake up and notice you're someone you're not/if you look in the mirror and don't like what you see/you can find out first hand what it's like to be me" (the end.)

"and would you even turn to say i don't love you like i did yesterday" (i don't love you)

"tell me i'm an angel/take this to my grave/tell me i'm a bad man/kick me like a stray" (house of wolves)

"You should have raised a babygirl/I should have been a better son" (mama)

"and if you would call me your sweetheart/i'd maybe then sing you a song/but there's shit that i've done with this fuck of a gun/you would cry out your eyes all along" (mama)

"so shut your eyes/kiss me goodbye/and sleep/just sleep/the hardest part's the awful things that i've seen" (sleep)

"na, na, na, na, na, na, na (let's blow an artery) /na, na, na, na, na, na, na (get plastic surgery) /na, na, na, na, na, na, na /keep your apology, give us more detonation" (na na na)

"coming out of this place in a bullet's embrace" (bulletproof heart)

"are we still having fun?/are you holding the gun?" (planetary (GO!))

"they laugh, we don't think it's funny/if what you are is just what you own/what have you become when they take from you/almost everything?" (DESTROYA)

there's probably more but it's late and ive been writing this for like an hour LMAOOO im sorry 4 not answering before

[travelelrartemis]

what's your favorite type of starship and what are you currently flying around in?

Hi! Favourite type has a bit of a complicated answer! My all-time favourite dream ships are solar ships, but specifically I've been nonstop thinking about this absolutely gorgeous white one with a gold trim and crescent sail and double blade wings I caught a glimpse of flying out of a space station a while ago. I wasn't even looking to buy a ship, I just saw it for a split second flying out of the space station and shouted in pure shock so loud a group of Korvax ran up to me and tried to do some kind of emergency repair on my exosuit because they thought I was screamimg because my life support was failing. And I was dying. So if that means anything to you... well, it came back several hours later, and I got a better look at it. She was definitely a higher end class, good storage for a solar ship, even looked like the launch thrusters had recently been repaired and upgraded (though with what, I don't know). And the pulse engine looked damn close to brand new, but you could tell this wasn't a brand new ship! Just a very well maintained one!! And it's not just that they're stylish. They're just SO fuel efficient. It's almost scary seeing how big a difference a vesper sail makes on a ship's pulse drive compared to, quite literally, every single other ship you will ever pilot. Now I'm imagining how rarely I'd have to stock up on Tritium to get anywhere if only I had that ship. I can't. I have to stop. I'll be talking about it forever. I'll make myself sick talking about it. Does it sound like I'm being paid by a ship manufacturer? I promise you, I'm not!! I just really like this ship ok!!

And of course I was the most short on units I've ever been when I examined it a second time. Might not ever be able to buy it. Unless I can rope one of my friends into paying for it? I don't know! I have exactly one friend who makes a lot of money, or at least more than I currently do. And I don't think I'll be able to convince them to buy an entire solar ship for me, especially not one in such great condition, meaning it will be that much more expensive. sigh

(I would send a picture but I think I might've lost the pictures I took of it?? All I have are my written notes. sigh x2)

I guess my second favourite, more realistically obtained ship would be an explorer- I'm a traveller, after all! It would make sense that I should look for a ship specifically suited for better travelling. Perhaps one day I'll really start looking for one. Maybe I'll try and repair an old crashed one- I've helped others repair their ships, I think I'm quite skilled at it, ha. Ooh, maybe I could try and find a solar to repair?

As for what ship I currently have, I've had this beast of a hauler for a while now, which I'm more than happy with.

She looks a bit compact, but she's got excellent storage space, actually a bit better than some other certain haulers I've seen in and out of stations since I added a bit more available storage. Which, I definitely need that storage. Call it hoarding if you want, I like to call it sudden emergency collecting. My point is I keep a lot of miscellaneous things in my ship that I probably wouldn't be able to keep in any other ship. I suppose that's my only other legitimate reason for not buying a solar outside of money, I really do just need al that space. And physically, I could clear it out pretty easily, but not emotionally. Most of the old stuff in there are things that remind me of people I know. And, since I don't tend to keep to one base for very long, my ship is the best place for it! Also sometimes I sleep back there

Aaaah sorry for talking so long!! It's just a topic I care a lot about... I hope you understand, and also that I answered your question somewhere in that tangent? I also apologize if anything is misspelled. I'm very tired. Maybe I can go sleep in the back of my ship with all my stuff, like I was talking about

[waxwingsandheartstrings]

GAY CONTENT (I'm talking about my partners. long post)

starting with Denver because I'm thinking about him. unfortunately also the shortest section because I haven't been able to spend too much time with him as my boyfriend but we should change that. Denver call me (/hj. I wouldn't complain though....)

anyway. I already thought he was pretty before I even had a thing for him, but, I don't know, I guess I ended up feeling pretty fondly towards him. he's sweet when he wants to be (or when it's important) but also such a dumbass at other times and I love both. I want to spend more time with him so I can write more someday.. we should go on a silly little date somewhere. one of the main memories I have with him since getting together is rough sex, which I can DEFINITELY appreciate, but I want more domestic memories, too. maybe we can go do one of those fun fall activities... like a maze or something. I think that'd be nice.

Cassie time

not my boyfriend but still a significant partner. honestly, at first, I hated him. okay, maybe hate is too much. I was jealous. he's everything I used to be and everything I wish I could be.. and, when I came back, everyone was asking about him. "where's Ghostbur?" "I miss Ghostbur". it just felt like shit. but then he came back and as much as I wanted to still be mad at him for replacing me, I just couldn't. look at him. he's too kind and he even cared enough to make sure I was talking to people when I felt it was easier to let everyone replace me with him again. even without being my partner, he's an integral part of me. we're the two halves of a man that used to be, and in loving him and him loving me, I like to think we're loving ourselves more, too.

the longest paragraph, Q

I am honest to god obsessed with him. great start, I know, but I can’t help it. I think I was into him from day one. initially, I couldn't stop staring at him, but he proved to be a great debate partner and he made me look forward to something. during Pogtopia, I don't know how he never grew to resent me. he was up there in terms of people I wanted to hate me. I didn't want him to miss me, but, well, we all know how that went. post revival, though, I was sure he did. I convinced myself that anyone would hate me, especially him, but I never stopped feeling like I needed him to keep going. I'll never know what it is about him that fuels me. I'm glad I was a dumbass and that I acted out to get his attention because he's one of the best things in my life. I wish I knew we were actually dating sooner, but I don't mind too much. I still got to cherish him either way. he was the first person I went into detail about limbo with. he's kissed every stitch and scar so many times that I can still remember the feeling, and he never held the same resentment for my body that I felt. he's held me through so many episodes and attacks and I can only hope that everything I've done for him is even a fraction of the same. I probably never would've gotten this far into recovery if he didn't do half of the stuff he did, and I owe him my life, but I'd happily give it to him anyway. I've never been too incredibly fond of myself (just content at best) but there's been so many times where he made me feel actually special. I've been thinking about it so much lately and I really do hope I get to marry him someday, even if it takes a while. if I can't, then that's okay, too, as long as he's mine.

[celestialmancer]

...The stuff below is all very negative emotional bullshit, running on low emotional filters because I can't keep things contained today & reached my fuckin gbreaking point i fucking guess.

Disconnected.

I've felt nothing but disconnected these past days from everything. Nevermind the stress flareups that have eaten me alive & especially got to me today amidst everything.

...

There's nothing but hurt. Anger seems to just have fully subsided & all that's left is the hurt that was fueling it. & I have not been able to stop feeling this kind of hurt for hours on end to where it's made me physically ill

I hate feeling anything. I hate feeling anything. I hate feeling anything. I hate feeling things so intensely.

Especially because this entire time, I'm constantly ripping myself apart telling myself I have no right to these feelings, these emotions

...

Finally letting spill how I've felt this entire time has come with nothing bu t anger at myself & regret, this feeling I'm being manipulative somehow in speaking why this whole ordeal has fucked with my own mental state. I keep telling myself I should have kept repressing it, maybe I should erase it, shove it all back under the fucking rug.

because it's all nonsensical bs, right? it's all me being irrational, it's all emotions that make no sense for me to feel. I'm just someone who overreacts, everything i've felt is nothing but an overreaction, i hav eno right to be this hurt, right. i ahve no right to still feel this kind of hurt, right.

i have no right to how i feel. i'm manipulative for feeling the way i did then & for still feeling the way i do. right.

that's what this is, right.

...

i can't stop ripping myself to shreds for daring to speak on how i feel in a private space about a certain situation, i can't stop invalidating myself up &down & ripping myself emotionally over & over again for daring to say anything, it feels like i should've never spilled the things in there that i'd been repressing on this for so long, like i should have never revealed the things that i felt about this shit that i contained for about a year, yet recent events that's happened that made EVERYTHING come back to hurt me again... All forced it out of me, & now I feel nothing but shame for daring to say anything.

because its humiliating i get this emotional, & i also never had a right to these emotions in the first goddamn fucking place, right. All the things I felt are just things in my head, its all me being delusional, it sall my delusions, im hurt over fuckign delusions, right, right, right, right, right

the things i experienced from them in the past are just in my head, right, just all me making shit up right. just me having no right to the way i feel because its all me overreacting to them & its all me being too much & i never had a right to feel hurt over them right.

there's a reason i shoved what i was going through under a rug & focused on everything else that was going on that was also hurtful, because this shit i speciically myself experienced & felt & went through, i have no righ t to feel the way i do & its all me being a whiny bitch right.

...

& Then there's the fact that amidst spilling i just get too emotional, & i know my emotions drive people away, i know they do, i know they do, i know they do

& maybe this is jus tme caught in a really really really negative spiral lately because i have been trying so hard to repress everything & not feel & just disconnect myself even further to where if eel nothing but its been unsuccessful & just only led to my grief ramping up & getting worse to a degree where nothing could stay within anymore & i just.

don't know.

im. very tired. i really am. i'll probably just... erase t his later, im stil

[raynebowrayne]

The earth is dying.

We probably didn't do it.

We probably won't be able to stop it.

We can stop it.

But we probably won't.

Everything we associate with global climate change is due to only one thing. The hole in the ozone layer.

We discovered it in the 1970s we heard all about it in the 80s and 90s but we stopped hearing about it in the new millenia. It doesn't even get a passing mention these days.

I want you to think of a soap bubble - like the kind you blow through a wand as a kid, a really big one.

Bigger.

Bigger.

The size of our ozone layer.

See all those swirls of color on the surface of the giant soap bubble? See how they're constantly in motion? That's our atmosphere. Those swirls of color are winds carrying moisture and chemicals and particulates all over the globe. Storms form when two large and powerful winds that are both heavy with moisture slam into each other in the atmosphere.

We found a giant hole in the soap bubble. Imagine blowing a soap bubble on a bubble wand very carefully so it doesn't blow off. Imagine blowing it really big. Bigger. Bigger - you get the picture? Now Imagine you stop blowing. What happens? The bubble shrinks, right?

So, what I'm saying is, we're spewing atmosphere into space. We have been for a long time. Thankfully, we're creating atmosphere at a pace that almost matches the speed at which we're spewing it. Almost. But not quite.

10,000 years ago the Sahara desert was lush and green and bursting with life.

25,000 years ago the American southwest was green and lush, too - Las Vegas back then was a lot like the Amazon rainforest is now.

We have to close the hole.

But the hole is the only thing stopping us from suffocating in all the pollution we're producing.

We're venting water into space. A small amount, yes. But water isn't a renewable resource. Not at the rate we're losing it.

We need to thicken the ozone layer to keep the planet from drying up but if we do that we and a lot of other species might die from pollution... we don't know how thick the ozone layer was before the hole formed... but it had to be thicker than it is.

We can create ozone - we can close the hole.

We can end the climate crisis and stabilize both the climate and the weather(for the most part). Imagine a world with no tornados, no hurricanes, no droughts, no blizzards... it's possible.

We have to end fossil fuels as an energy source. If we don't we will literally destroy the entire eco system and kill ourselves and millions of other species. The world will recover. It'll take a few million years - but it will recover. Our species won't be here to see it. Because if we don't end fossil fuels we'll choke the surface of the planet to death on pollution. Land, water - too polluted to grow most plants or support much life in the form of a very few species from which many new species will evolve by the time the ecosystem recovers from fossil fuel damage.

We can do it. We can end fossil fuels and begin healing the ozone layer. We can do it in the next 10 years with enough money invested in it.

It'd cost a few billion dollars to get started. Maybe 50 people on the planet could afford to pay for it out of their pocket and not really miss the cost of saving us all. Don't hold your breath waiting for one to step up.

How can one rich person save the world? By replacing fossil fuels with free energy. It's not a myth. It's entirely workable.

First you need a powerful magnet. I recommend a N52 or higher neodymium magnet. Make it 2 inches thick 4 inches tall and 8 inches long. It should be magnetized so that one of the 2x4 ends is positively and the other is negatively charged.

Take a ring of pure iron that is 5 inches tall, 1 - 2" thick, and has an inside diameter of about 10 inches and coat it in gold. Inside the inner portion of the ring you're going to place blocks of copper with a wire attachments on the ends, in place of traditional coils(I'll call these "coils" from here on out but they aren't really traditional coils). There should be 8 of these coils, and they should be 4 inches tall about an inch thick and 2 inches wide... it's not a bad idea to coat them in gold for longevity... they should be positioned so that they line up perfectly with the top and bottom of the 2x4 ends of the magnet and are about 1/2" from the top and bottom of the inside of the ring. They should be attached to the ring using a method to ensure maximum conductivity.

The magnet should have slightly rounded ends so that it fits inside this ring of coils and comes within a hair's breadth of touching them. It should be attached via a brace in the center of an axel so that it can spin perfectly centered inside the coils while not quite touching them. I'll call this metal ring, coil, and magnet on an axel device the "core" from here on out.

This axel with the magnet atrached to it should be driven by a 1 or 2 Kw e-bike type brushless electric motor.

The motor should be driven by a controller box, like an e-bike controller which should be powered by a 48v or higher lifepo4 battery with at least 100 to 200 amp hours capacity and a fairly fast charging speed.

By elevating the core and using a large gear on the axel we can use a small gear on the motor to give more torque and make it easier to prevent overheating the core or the motor.

The coils should be attached to wires that connect them to a voltage regulator/transformer that can regulate the wild electricity produced by the core and transform it into a 50 or 60ghz 120 or 240v feed...whatever matches the local power feed for the region its intended to be used in.

If my calculations are correct that whole set up: the core, the motor, the battery, the transformer box( I call all of that in one device my "generator") should produce enough electricity to run at least 1 to 5 houses, depending on their size and what not, without ever having a brown out moment. If tied to the grid all excess power can be shunted down the line and used for things like traffic signals and street lights. If every house has this as it's energy source and we scale this up a bit to match the needs of any building... any car, any ship, any train, any jet even... we can end fossil fuels.

To keep the battery charged the charger should be able to charge it at its maximum safe charge speed, which will make it so the battery can keep powering the motor while it charges. Side note: program the charger to only kick on when the battery reaches 10 - 25% capacity and kicks off at 100% to extend the life of the battery.(the charger plugs right into any outlet and should be left plugged in at all times.)

So why would it take billions? To set up the manufacturing centers and start producing these on a massive scale.

Sell them for 3 - 5x overhead until the cost of setting everything up is recouped then drop it to 2x overhead, flat, and you'd be a trillionaire before you died of old age if you're under 60 now - even if you split the profits with me.

The problem is that replacing fossil fuels only solves the choking to death on pollution issue, it doesn't solve the ozone issue.

That's the expensive part.

You'd need to use this generator to power ozone generators. You'd need to build a network of steel towers across a huge swath of Antarctica, right in the center where noting lives or roams. Imagine the Eiffel Tower, but instead of that iconic rotunda thing at the top, imagine a giant steel toilet brush made of rebar. Now pack those towers together in such a way that when you add massive amounts of electricity to those rebar bristles they spark off of each other - basically creating an ocean of lightning a hundred or more feet off the ground. Of course, each tower would require its own generator or bank of generators and it/they would need to be inside a structure (built between the base feet of the tower) that's not easily damaged by cold - fireproof helps, too.

Ozone is formed by electrical discharge in air. The only way to make enough to patch up the hole in the ozone layer and rethicken the ozone layer in time to prevent catastrophe is to create this massive field of lightning generating towers.

If you want to save the world build the generators, build the towers, end fossil fuels, generate ozone.

I've worked on this problem since I was a kid - over 30 years now. I don't have the money to build my generator. I have no choice but to give it away like this because I'll never have the money to build it. But we need it.

Our planet IS dying. We didn't cause it, I don't think, but we can fix it.

My generator, one rich person, and a whole lot of steel can save the planet.

If you've got the money, build it.

Save us.

Get even filthy-rich-er.

I'll answer any questions you have about any part of the device, just message me.

I'm giving up my life's work and every dream I ever had, right here and right now, in this post - in hopes that somehow, someday, someone will build the generator and the lightning field and save the world.

[unseededtoast]

Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Part Twelve

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!

"Don't take another step."

Someone nudging my shoulder wakes me from my sleep. I lazily blink my eyes open and see Joel staring down at me with his chocolate brown eyes. He probably either found something, or it's time to keep walking. Either way, my time on this mattress is coming to a sad close, and I wish I could stay here forever. My limbs stretch out before I get up, soaking in one last moment on the soft bed.

Joel moves out of my way as I get up and put my bag on my back. He picks his up as well and opens the camper door for me. The day is hot, the air is sticky with humidity.

"Follow me." He says and walks ahead of me, leading me further into the campground. Joel has some unusual pep in his step, and it's getting my hopes up that he found something good.

The rest of the campground is desolate, it's probably been abandoned for a decade now. It's almost like a time capsule, everything is exactly where it was left ten years ago. There are children's bicycles left, tents that have been blown over, and remnants of happy memories everywhere I look. Once upon a time, this place would have been a lovely destination for a weekend getaway.

The campers become less densely packed as he keeps walking deeper into the woods.

"I thought you said you weren't going far." I call him on his lie. His shoulders shrug in front of me.

"I guess it's all a matter of perspective." He refutes and I let out a short laugh.

"I'll have to keep that in mind." I say as we pass a rusted out truck.

We walk a few more paces until I see a blue pickup truck sitting out by itself. It looks a little out of place, like it should be back towards the front where most of the campers are. Joel comes to a stop in front of it and lightly smacks his hand on the hood. I'll admit, it's one of the nicest looking cars I've seen in a while. The rust is at a minimum, it still has all the doors and windows. In my eyes, this truck is on par with a Rolls Royce.

"Does it work?" I ask before my hopes get too high. This truck could need parts before it runs. And if that's the case, who knows how long we'll be here searching for them.

"It runs, we just need some gas." He says and I nod. I knew we couldn't get lucky enough to find a car without any sort of issue to deal with.

"Okay, then let's find some gas." I say, hopeful that in this campground there's fuel stored somewhere. Sure, it's frustrating that our trip is being delayed, but the thought of finally having a car offsets any negativity about searching for gas.

The two of us split up, each taking one side of the campground to make the most of our time. I start at the front and decide to make my way back towards the truck. I search through the unlocked campers and cars left to rot, finding nothing of real use in the front. In the back half of the campground I find a gas container with a quarter tank, it's better than nothing. Other than that, I don't find anything.

Joel and I reconvene at the truck after thoroughly searching. It seems his search was more fruitful, he's got two full containers in his hands.

"Where'd you find all that?" I'm not sure how he got so lucky. He just shrugs,

"Was just layin' around." He opens the gas cap of the truck and pours the gas into it. Hopefully this gets us a few hundred miles at least.

I watch as he tosses the empty gas can aside and climbs into the driver's seat. He rubs his hands together excitedly before turning the key in the ignition. The truck makes a few clicking sounds before it finally roars to life with a deep growl. It's music to my ears and I can't keep the wide smile off my face.

"I can't believe it." My voice is awestruck as I climb into the passenger side. The seats are faux leather and the air in here is quite stale and stuffy. Joel begins navigating back to the road as I roll the windows down and let my arm hang out the window.

He drives us out of the campground and we're back en route. The wind whips my hair around in the truck and my eyes close as I take in the feeling. It's been so long since I can remember enjoying driving with the windows down. We drive for miles as I soak in the almost forgotten feeling.

Opening my eyes, I look over to Joel, who has a small smirk on his face. His eyes glance from the road over to me before flicking back to the road. I roll the window halfway up, the air becoming a little much.

"Thought you fell asleep over there." He says. I shake my head and try to tame my hair from the wind.

"No, I slept pretty well. I think we can count that as a five star hotel." I flip down the mirror attached to the visor on the ceiling and use it to part my hair the correct way before glancing over to Joel. He just shakes his head with the same smirk on his face, and then we fall back into our usual silence.

Deciding I can use this time for something other than looking out of the window, I grab my bag and unzip it, grabbing the map. It's torn around the edges from wear, but is still intact enough that it won't disintegrate if it gets folded the wrong way. My eyes find the spot where we just passed through, marked with the star. The stars must mean other groups, so we'll want to avoid those in the future.

I look ahead in our route to see what we'll be coming up on. The next group we should be crossing paths with are the Fireflies. It'll be interesting to see what happens when we get to that point. I know both Joel and I dislike them, but they're also involved in the slaughter of children in QZs. For that reason alone I want to seek them out, just to see if there's any information we can get from them.

But then again, if Joel was there when Marlene died, other people might know about that and it might complicate things. I heavily sigh as I weigh the pros and cons of finding them.

Then again, Joel doesn't have to go with me to seek them out. He's more than welcome to keep going and if he wants, we can meet back up after I'm done. One way or another I know I need to find them, and I need to see for myself the extent of their involvement with the T group. In my mind, there's more to lose from not finding them and not getting every ounce of information that I possibly can. From my estimate, if we keep driving for the rest of the day, we should reach them by tomorrow afternoon. That's assuming we don't run into any obstacles.

I fold the map back up and put it inside my bag and my fingers find the two scraps of paper I found in the fire back near Boston. The word "immune" strikes me, and my thumb runs over the ink. What could this mean? What context was it written in? Does it even have anything to do with this?

Surely it has to, it was among other vital pieces of information like the note and the map. But why would they burn this letter and not the rest?

Joel glances over to see what I'm holding and his eyebrows draw tightly together. He reads the word on the scorched paper and his eyes trail up to meet mine. His jaw sets and he swallows hard. It reminds me of the night we spent in the little suburban home, how he went over all the evidence.

"What is it?" My mouth blurts out before I can stop myself. I have to know why he's acting this way about the evidence. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his hand grab the steering wheel more tightly and his knuckles turn white. But his face relaxes and he shakes his head,

"Nothin'." His subpar answer lingers in the air between us. I have a gut feeling he's not telling the entire truth, and it's really starting to get under my skin.

"It's not nothing. What do you know?" I ask him, my voice firm. My eyes scan over his face for any clues, but his demeanor is cool and collected, save for his death grip on the steering wheel.

"I don't know anything." His voice is deep and has a tone of finality, urging me not to continue on. I bite my tongue before I begin accusing him of things I'm not even sure of and look back out the window.

An anxious feeling creeps up my spine as I try to rationalize why he would want to keep information away from me. It's plain as day now that he definitely knows something, and it has to be centered around this one scribbled word. He reacted to it back in the suburbs, and he reacted to it again just now.

If he's willing to go out of his way to save me not once, but twice, and is sincere enough to keep his word about tagging along until Omaha, then what could possibly be so classified that he won't tell me? It just doesn't make sense. And in that moment, the man who once made me feel safe, makes me feel uneasy. Maybe I wrongfully placed my trust in him too soon.

Quietly, I place the scrap of paper back in my bag and zip it up. The bag now rests in my lap and I crane my neck even more so that I can't even see him out of my peripheral vision. My heart thumps in my chest and I try to calm myself. Wild thoughts run rampant in my mind with theories about what's going on, but not one theory is able to check every box of the situation.

As the day goes on, the trip continues to pass in silence. After hours of mulling over my theories, I still can't settle on anything that makes total sense. Everything about his behavior is paradoxical to me. Until I can figure it out, I think it's best if I keep my distance and and keep my mouth shut. He already knows a fair bit about me, but I know practically nothing about him. There's a power imbalance here and that adds to my uneasiness.

Our silence is now filled with tension once more, and my nervously tapping foot is the only thing that fills the quiet cab of the truck. The sun has set and the headlights of this truck are very dim. Truthfully, it's probably dangerous to be driving with such dim lights but I don't care. I just want this truck to get us as far as possible.

Unfortunately, he doesn't keep driving through the night. No, he finds a rest area off the highway and stops at it, pulling the truck over the curb and into the woods for cover. As soon as the truck is put into park I get out and sling my bag over one shoulder. My feet can't carry me fast enough as I make my way to one of the small buildings.

I duck behind one and revel in the feeling of being alone, being away from the suffocating silence and tension. My chest deflates with a sigh and I turn my attention towards the dark sky, dotted with bright stars. For a few moments my problems melt away, it's just me and the wide open sky. My fingers wrap around the gold chain around my neck as I gaze at the stars, hoping that somehow the right answer will come to me. Should I stay with Joel? Should I go on my own? I just don't know.

I don't have enough time to dwell on it as I hear Joel's footsteps crunching in the woods next to me. Fixing my posture, I bend over and make it look like I was tying the laces of my boot and not debating whether or not I should take off. As casually as I can, I look up through my eyelashes and see Joel coming out of the woods in front of me, logs tucked underneath one of his arms. He looks at me quizzically, and I think quick to excuse my hightailing.

"Sorry I um, I just had to go." I say, implying that I ran off for the bathroom. He nods his head once and then clears his throat.

"Was thinkin' we could build a fire out here." He gestures to the sidewalk that borders the woods. Like last night, there's a risk to it, but it's not a detrimental one, at least I don't think.

"Yeah, that's fine." I say and stand up from my kneeling position. He walks in front of me, his shoulders tight with tension and I'm not entirely sure it's from hauling firewood.

I stay a few feet back as Joel constructs the fire, much like he did last night. He does it with an expertise that shows how long he's been out here for. Leaning against a nearby tree I chew on my fingernails, my brain unable to let me be calm. Joel lights the fire and he takes a seat on the plush grass, stretching out.

"I can take watch tonight." He offers. While the offer is nice, I don't know if I'll be able to sleep. There are several reasons why I should trust him by now, but there's also one major reason why I can't. I shake my head, turning down his offer.

"That's okay, I'm not even really tired. Plus you drove all day." My lie comes quick and smooth. He looks up at me, and I worry he's going to see through my facade. He shrugs his shoulders,

"Doesn't bother me." His voice sounds sincere and I wish I could accept his offer as easily as I did last night.

"I might stay up and plan a little." This isn't the entire truth, but it's not a complete lie either.

"Plan for what?" His brown eyes are illuminated by the fire. Nervousness crawls over my skin.

"Um, just, just for our next stop." I say, deciding that this conversation has to happen eventually.

"What stop is that?" He readjusts his position on the ground so he can look at me easier.

"The Fireflies. We're going to run into them next." I flatly state, waiting for his reaction. Joel's eyebrows shoot up,

"Thought you hated the Fireflies?" His voice is gruff and he sounds irritated. My head nods, agreeing with him.

"I do. And as much as I hate to admit it, I have to talk to them. You saw, their emblem was on that letter. They're involved in this and I can't just pass it up." I feel slightly more confident. He huffs with annoyance and I try to keep my facial expression under control, he can't know how apprehensive I am right now.

"Damn Fireflies." Is all he says, and I think I was hoping for more insight. I decide to leave the conversation there, not wanting to tread on rough waters with him again.

Eventually I take a seat on the grass across the way from Joel. The fire's smoke burns my lungs each time I inhale, but I don't mind it. My thoughts are too occupied with my own internal conflict.

Am I overreacting about what happened earlier? After all, this is the same man who helped me over the barricade, saved me from the perverted men in the town, and insisted he stay with me until Omaha. If his intentions with me were foul, he's had plenty of time to act and he hasn't. But there's something about how defensive he got that's concerning.

My repeating thoughts are interrupted as I hear twigs breaking in the woods behind me. My hand reaches for the curved blade and I'm on my feet in the blink of an eye. There's a shadow moving in the trees, I see it coming closer. Joel stands by my side and pushes me behind him slightly, a knife in his hand as well.

"Don't take another step." Joel's voice threatens. The footsteps stop. It's not an infected. My head turns from side to side to watch for anyone else that may be tagging along with his person.

"I'm just passing through." A manly voice calls back and the footsteps resume. My grip on my knife gets tighter, ready to use it if things go sideways.

"Walk towards me with your hands up." Joel demands. Through the darkness I see the man's hands fly up in surrender and he takes slow steps towards us. I back up so that the man can come to the light, so we can see his face.

He's a young kid, maybe early twenties. His hair is all disheveled, clothes tattered and torn. There's a fear in his eyes as he steps out towards us, like he's never been in this situation before. Raised high above his head, his hands tremble.

"Sit on the ground and cross your ankles." Joel instructs, knife still at the ready. Quickly, the young man nods his head and follows Joel's instructions. I put my knife away, seeing as how Joel has this covered apparently.

"Who are you?" Is Joel's next demand. The kid's eyes raise to meet his.

"Name's Tate." His voice cracks as he talks. From his perspective, Joel has to be terrifying. He's a large man with a knife, of course he's going to be scary. And I'll admit deep down he scares me too.

"What're you doin' out here?" Joel's form is rigid and tense.

"Like I said I'm just passing through." The kid's wide eyes turn to me and Joel snaps his fingers.

"Don't look at her, eyes stay right here." Joel points to his face. The boy nods his head and tears his gaze off of me. The kid's nervousness causes him to keep blabbering.

"I swear man. I'm headed to Pittsburgh. I've got family out that way." Joel shifts his weight, refusing to lower his weapon.

"Pittsburgh is full of raiders and hunters." The kid swallows hard at Joel's words and a look of exasperation comes over him.

"What? No, no that can't be right. How do you know?" Joel sighs and adjusts his knife in his hand.

"Went through there a while ago. Checkpoint's been abandoned. I can almost guarantee that your people aren't there anymore for one reason or another." The kid looks down from Joel's face and I think he might get sick.

I look over what the young man has on him and see that he's travelling suspiciously light. In fact, I don't even see a bag anywhere. If he's travelling all the way to Pittsburgh with nothing but the clothes on his back, he has to be trying to evade something, or someone. Finding my voice, I speak up.

"Where's your stuff at?" Both Joel and Tate look over to me. Joel looks angry and Tate looks confused. Tate's mouth hangs open for a few seconds as he digests the question.

"This is all I have." He confirms my thoughts, which makes me even more curious about why he's out here.

"You're travelling to Pittsburgh with no supplies?" My voice is obviously skeptical. This could be some sort of trap for all we know. Tate's head nods.

"I didn't have a choice. The Fireflies are losing their damn minds, everyone's trying to take charge and it's a mess." His voice seems to calm down as he speaks to me.

"How many are left?" I ask, hoping that there's enough there that someone is bound to know something. Tate shrugs his shoulders.

"I don't know, maybe thirty, maybe less by now." His voice trails off at the end of his sentence and he glances back to Joel, who has not stopped staring him down.

If Tate is fleeing from the Fireflies, he might be more likely to spill what he knows. After all, if he has no loyalty he doesn't have to worry about covering for anyone. Within seconds I'm fishing out the pieces of paper from my bag and I bring them over to Tate. The documents are fanned out in my hands and I sit beside him, letting him look over the materials. His eyes scan over them, reading the instruction note twice.

"What do you know about this?" My voice is low and somber. Tate's eyes meet mine,

"I don't know. This looks like serious shit though. I wasn't high ranking enough to know about stuff like that. No, I was the one who they sent out to kill infected and to be people's bodyguards. But if you get to their base, I'm willing to bet Trevor knows something." His words seem genuine, and I pack all the documents back into my bag.

"Trevor." I confirm and he nods his head. It seems like he's being honest, lies usually aren't that thorough. Standing from my spot beside Tate, I walk to Joel and meet his hard gaze.

"I think we should let him go." I whisper so Tate can't hear. Something tells me that Joel doesn't want him making it out of here alive, but I don't think Tate is going to be any sort of threat to us. Joel's eyes bounce between me and Tate, looking uncertain.

"What if he's lyin'?" Joel asks and I sigh.

"I don't think he is. Look at him, he's scared. Doesn't seem the type to hurt others." I glance over my shoulder at the skinny kid sitting with his ankles still crossed.

"Fine. You can let him go, but you're taking watch if you do." Joel grumbles and brushes past me. I roll my eyes at him before I turn around to meet Tate once more.

"Get out of here." I say, kicking the side of his shoe.

"Really? You're going to let me go?" He sounds shocked, and I nod my head and gesture for him to get going. Tate scrambles to his feet and takes off through the woods again without another word. I hope he finds whoever it is he's searching for, poor kid.

I watch him until I can't see or hear him anymore, and then take a seat across from Joel at the fire once more. He's obviously angry, but I don't care that much. In a passive-aggressive protest, he's turned his back to me to sleep, and I try to make myself comfortable on the sidewalk for another long night of keeping watch.

Part Thirteen

[theunexpectedexpectations]

The next morning Freya woke up feeling a little different, a little more inspired. Sure she can mourn her mother, but she can still try to make life fun. Besides she wasn't sure how long she could even keep up the charade for that type of mentality has never been for Freya.

She looked at her clothes and felt the need for something *different*. She dug into the closet and was sure she brought her scarf.

"Found it!" she whispered, throwing it around her neck. She slid her skirt on and tucked in her favorite green shirt. She brushed her hair and buckled her sandals. Freya looked in the mirror and smiled, she actually liked the little combo she put together. She skipped out of her room and was stopped by her father.

"Heya, Freya, where are you skipping to?" he sang.

"If you must know I have to get in touch with my mind reading skills so I can find fairies. I have to fine tune it to their wavelengths." she answered.

"Heh," Ezequiel half laugh because she probably was going to talk to fairies and there wasn't much he could or should do to stop it, "So do you want some pancakes to fuel the mind or what sounds good?"

"It *has* to be fruit or a vegetable, they don't eat anything else!" Freya always talked like she actually knew the answer and at this point, Ezequiel didn't need much convincing.

"Why don't we pick some fresh fruit from the garden? Make a nice little fruit salad?" he asked.

Loving the idea she quickly races him outside, "We need strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, and blackberries!" she declared.

Ezequiel followed close behind, smiling. He was just happy to see Freya finally acting normal since Sig's disappearance. Freya normally did tend the garden and she loved fruits. After a little bit of picking Ezequiel grabbed their full bowl and brought it inside.

"I'll whip this up really quick, then you can get to your mind reading training." he teased.

After their breakfast Freya went out to the garden area because apparently the flowers and plants help you with trying to find the right frequency.

She sat down on the grass and tried clearing her mind. She looked around the area, it really is nice out here though. 'It may be far, but it feels alright out here' she thought. The flowers, the trees, it all made Freya feel at home. She even grew comfortable having no friends. She closed her eyes.

She felt herself relaxing and a sense of calm about the things that have been happening lately. She knew she couldn't control them, she tried to focus on what she wanted to do, which was talk to fairies. She tried to think about the frequency that a fairy may be on. And focused on it. She felt time melting away and could hear a faint ringing noise it started getting a little more higher pitched.

"Spray under the bed!" a small voice whispered.

Freya listened some more and waited.

"Spray! They are watching!" the small voice sounded worried this time.

Freya opened her eyes and walked towards the side door. Throwing the door open she yelled, "Dad!"

Sitting there reading his book he jumped at her sudden intrusion. "Jesu- what Freya?" he said sighing in relief that it was her.

"They told me that I need to spray under the bed. They said 'They're watching'." she said very matter-of-factly.

"Spray under the.." he sighed and smiled, "Alright, I'll spray under the bed, but only if we can make some cookies tonight after."

She smiled brightly, "Absolutely!"

He stood up and walked to the kitchen, to his surprise there was a bottle labeled "Bug" Spray, but on the packaging he read that it "Get's rid of those pesky, hidden monsters in just 2 sprays!"

He walked to her room and sprayed the bottle on her bed. After he sprayed he swore he heard something let out a gasp. His skin crawled.

'What the hell *is* under her bed?' he thought.

Just in that moment a shadow ran out the window, if he hadn't been watching he would have missed it. Stepping backward he realized he was going to need help from the Queen, maybe shield their cottage.

His mouth was dry out of fear though, the thought of that thing living under his daughters bed for how long now? He brought the bottle back into the kitchen.

"Is it done?" she asked curiously.

"Why don't you tell me?" Ezequiel answered.

Freya popped up and walked to the bedroom hesitantly.

She walked to her bed and investigated it.

"Oh!" she said "Much better!" hopping into the bed and getting comfortable immediately. She looked back up at him and asked, "So what are thinking?? Chocolate chip, snickerdoodles?"

"I was thinking maybe gooey butter cookies?" he responded.

"Sounds like a plan!" she popped back up to her feet and walked past him. "Are you coming?" she asked.

He was watching her out of confusion and curiosity. 'How did she know?' he thought. 'If she only knew the truth..'.

"Yes, I'm coming." he said.

After they made their cookies, and Freya had her bath, Ezequiel let her stay up and watch her movie he got her. He cleaned up the kitchen a bit and looked up to see Freya fast asleep on the couch. Glancing at the clock he read the time.

10:45 pm

'Alright, I need to change and meet Speio.' he thought to himself.

Ezequiel peered down at his wristwatch.

11:30

'At least I'm early for once, I bet Sig would be impressed- if only she was here to see.' he thought to himself. 'It's amazing that this spot is a gateway for the Realm. It's right next to this cottage, too, awfully convenient. I guess Sig always knew where it was though. Sig was always prepared.. her disappearance doesn't make sense, if she could plan all this out how could she not prepare for getting kidnapped?'

"You really do not listen for anything when you are deep in thought." a voice spoke from behind.

Jumping at the sudden interruption, Ezequiel turns to see Speio.

"Look, I'm just trying to figure all this out still, and could you stop popping in like that? You could give someone a heart attack!" Ezequiel said still trying to catch his breath from the scare.

Speio smiled, "I suppose you're right with all the events happening lately, but I did say your name three times before."

Ezequiel looked at Speio, but had no excuse for his lack of hearing.

"Alright, wise guy, where are we going?" Ezequiel asked.

"Well what I have here are numbers. I cannot read them though, which is what the Queen has been trying to decipher, but we are unfamiliar with the sequence." Speio handed him a leathery brown sheet that read a set of coordinates. Ezequiel grabbed the sheet from him and stared at them.

"These are coordinates." he said pulling his phone out.

"And why would you need a little black mirror tha-" Speio stopped as the phone spoke over him.

"In 300 feet turn right." the phone yelled out.

"You have a *talking* black mirror? How does she fit in there?" he asked.

Ezequiel was humored by this, "You know if you guys watch us, how do you not know what a phone is?"

"I'm familiar that a phone does what our telekinesis is possible of doing, and that it connects you all somehow, but I did not know little people lived in them!" Speio said still looking at the device in confusion.

Ezequiel laughed at him, "Come on are we going to find Sig?" taking off in a full sprint. 'I want to see Sig. I have to find her.' he thought.

"You know just because you have the talking black mirror doesn't mean you can fun off without me!" Speio called from behind.

Regardless of what Speio had to say Ezequiel was on a mission at this point. He just laughed and looked at the time they would arrive.

1:47 am

'Geez.. it's going to be a long trip.' he thought to himself.

They ran and ran, it's a good thing Ezequiel was already fit enough for this kind of a run otherwise he'd be completely winded.

"Rerouting.." the phone yelled.

Ezequiel stopped in his tracks, "Wait, what? No!"

"Rerouting.." the phone shouted again.

"What does she mean? Did she forget where we are going?" Speio asked.

"I don't know," Ezequiel said getting frustrated, "Apparently I have no bars here."

"Bars?" Speio looked confused.

Ezequiel getting impatient didn't have time to explain it all to him.

"You know how it was classified to tell me about how you guys tell time? This is kind of a similar thing." he said staring at the phone just hoping it would blip.

Speio watched him desperately trying to fix it, he looked around and leaned his head back. Taking a deep breath in he closed eyes, suddenly he darted off, "Over here!"

"Wait! Speio wait! What if someone sees you?" Ezequiel said chasing him.

Finally catching up to him, Ezequiel came across a rather defeated looking Speio.

"I don't understand.. She was just here." Speio complained, "If my magic was strong enough, I would have been able to find her tonight."

"What do you mean?" Ezequiel asked.

"I can only use so much.. and I have not trained enough to have it mastered, but it will take me at least five human years to do it now." he sighed.

"Well, I don't know much about your world, Speio, but what I do know is: you have given me more hope and relief these past few months than I could have ever done alone." Ezequiel said trying his best to comfort the hybrid elf.

"It is just.. Sig was my friend, too, Ezequiel," Speio said, "I want to rescue her as you do, but I am unsure of how to help now."

"You knew Sigrid?" Ezequiel asked confused as to why he never mentioned it before.

"We grew up along side eachother. She and I practiced Nature Magic together in the Realm's forests." Speio explained.

"Why did you not bring this up before, Speio?" he asked.

"Because it was classified. You have clearance to hear this information now." Speio still looking like a kicked puppy, Ezequiel knew he had to try to comfort him.

"You know how Sig was then. You know the attempt to save her would be more than enough to make her happy. You also know she would have said 'I told you so.'" Ezequiel said.

Speio was smiling at him, "She would also have given me a hard time for coming here."

Ezequiel didn't know what Speio meant, "What do you mean by that exactly?" he asked.

"I am really forbidden to come here. I just wanted to help you and rescue Sigrid, I wish to be on the Queens good side." Speio answered.

"So then what if someone *would* have seen you?" Ezequiel asked getting worried, but also noting that Speio had interest in the Queen.

"Ah Humans I am not worried about, they cannot see me as they wouldn't believe it. But beings from other realms could be lurking, that would pose a problem." he answered.

"Speio, as much as I appreciate your help and willingness to find Sig, don't do anything that would get yourself into trouble either.." Ezequiel said, "Also if you want to be on the Queens good side, not coming here while she doesn't know probably isn't the best way to go about that."

Speio connecting the dots, "You are right, Ezequiel.. I'm sorry, I should not have inserted myself."

Ezequiel patted his back, "It's okay, but we should head back. I need sleep and you have to make sure the Queen doesn't catch you." he said laughing.

Speio smiled back. "You're right."