#Somewhere in the World...There's Us || Location Classified

[brooklynislandgirl]

Advent Calendar || Day Six @therealgamble

"One day of coal versus three hundred sixty four days of fun, I'll go ahead and take my chances."

She can't help but chuckle. Not that she should be listening to him, they are, after all, sweeping for mines. That's her job. Listening in her way for the variations of energy from the magnetics in the metal. She's light enough after a little bit of judicious use of her powers not to detonate them and her ability to sense the common thread of quintessence in specific patterns, what she tells him is the life's blood of the universe. Brian lets her go on as she likes about these things and while she knows he understands all but the most obscure esoteric minutia, maybe even fantasises about having abilities too, he treats it as he would someone with extraordinary talent in marksmanship, someone who's an expert mechanic, someone who is a doctor. Sometimes he watches her when she's doing little things. Almost ordinary by her standards. But he's never come across as envious. And right now, she's glad for it. Just like she's glad that she's the canary in the mine so to speak. Command says they can lose her, or if she comes away with missing limbs, she can take care of it herself, given time. She doesn't want to take the risk with him. "Okay, but. If you did care, and you did believe? What would you ask for if you were on the Nice list?" His shrug warms her through. Then the smile and he gets on with wild fantasies. Room service in a five star hotel, a bevy of women ~she isn't jealous though she does make a face at him before she mops her brow despite the cold~ the food, the drink, the rest. He asks her the question in return and she shrugs and keeps planting flags for the EOD team that will follow after them. What he says sounds nice. The idea of lying on the golden sands of a beach somewhere with a giant fruity drink sounds good too. Maybe because regardless of the ever more fanciful details they add, she realises anywhere would be good so long as she's with him. A gruelling eighteen hours later, they both fall across their cots. For long moments neither one moves or even speak beyond a few well earned groans. She listens as his breath starts to deepen and she knows that he's on the edge of sleep. "Hey, Gamble," she manages. She's sure he's about to ignore her. "I got ya something. And no, it's not coal." He flips her the bird. She smiles. He'll find it in his boot in the morning.

[jiangwanyinscatmom]

Do you know why is 云深不知处 popularly translated as cloud recesses? As far as I know (by that I mean recesses), it makes no sense? Like what about recesses makes them unknown or deep

(Ngl when I first heard 云深不知处, I thought it was 云深不知出 and if you called some place that, no wonder someone would think you’d be trying to imprison them lol)

Hi there!

For context for others and the original poem this comes from first:

Traditional Hanzi:

1 松下問童子

2 言師採藥去

3 只在此山中

4 雲深不知處

Simplified Hanzi:

1 松下问童子

2 言师采药去

3 只在此山中

4 深不知处

Pinyin:

1 Sōngxià wèn tóngzǐ

2 yán shī cǎi yào qù

3 zhǐ zài cǐ shānzhōng

4 yún shēn bùzhī chù

English (Just gonna have to deal with my shoddy attempt):

1 Beneath the bow of pines, I asked a disciple

2 My Master has gone to gather herbs that grow wild, he said

3 Somewhere on these mountains

4 Hidden in the clouds unknown

And here we have chù and chū at the end of these sentences. Simplified 处, Trad. 處,. And 出 which is what areuils is speaking of! The character to classify a location a place (usually somewhere that's pretty official, think office, facilities departments, etc) as well as 出 being used to classify dramas and opera plays. The 处, 處, character also heavily denotes punishment and discipline. This makes it seem a lot more intimidating and nightmarish. For the teenage boy that Wei Wuxian was at the time, it kind of makes it a fun little word play of his expectations and early views of the Lans and Lan Wangji and his own wild imagination at times.

For the English choice that the original translator chose (ExR) I at least thought it was wanting to stick to the spirit of the ideal monk-like ambience the original poem was portraying and took some heavy liberties for an English audience to keep in mind that the Gusu Lan clan are heavily monastic in living and tradition and are also mysteriously ethereal and untouched by the world (like the master we never see on page). Recesses sounds more monastic and peaceful I suppose in English even if it's not linguistically similar in the slightest to the hanzi and denotes a pathway more so than the actual unknown of mountains.

I personally enjoy the shrouded steeps as one translation to go with, as you said the official English denotation lacks the feel of a lurking unknown that the boy in the poem seems worried over and still too immature himself to go in like his hermit master.

I was also not one to enjoy how 乱葬岗, Luànzàng Gǎng is translated as Burial Mounds, as that still feels far too respectful for it, even if meant ironically in English.

But the woes of translations eh? And that footnotes cannot be chapters in themselves for readers because it's all just so brilliant and wonderful to delve into.

[colderdrafts]

1: In the darkness

Underground visitor, gn reader x monster (male drider). Sfw. Next

It is not unusual to hear odd noises in the forest during dark nights.

Neither is it unusual to see shapes moving about in the silhouettes of the trees – your eyes adjusting, the shadow of a squirrel, the dark canopy above rustling in the cold wind. You’ve traversed this area before, yet not at this time, and the contrast is striking. Otherly.

After all, a dark forest is just that, something otherly to a daywalker such as yourself. People get lost in these forests, they say. Sometimes they don’t come back.

Superstitions and rumors, of course. The first thing you were warned of since moving to this area was its vast collection of make-believe.

The matted ground beneath your feet is full of shapes that you can’t make out, all blending together as your eyes desperately try to make sense of everything suddenly being colorless. If ‘dark’ can be classified as a color.

You jump in surprise when something snaps to your right, and you look only to find nothing. The branches of the trees are one blurry silhouette, and whatever is hiding in their shapes remain unknown to you.

You keep walking.

The path is muddied and slippery, a gentle rain caressing your face when a stray droplet finds its way under the hood of your jacket. Gentle you remind yourself, the rain is not here to hurt you or purposely slow you down. As many other things in this forest tonight, it’s simply there, with you.

You find your path home divides in two, and suddenly you have to make a choice – however you do not remember that your path home used to have such a choice. Have you taken a wrong turn somewhere?

You glance around the dark colors that dance around your vision, denying you clarity. Are you lost?

Left or right?

Or turn back?

You turn around, trying to trace back your steps, but the darkness closes around you and you don’t know where you are anymore.

The rain hits heavier now, your path still unclear. A rumbling in the sky above serves as a warning of something to come. You pull out your phone, trying to spare it as much of the pouring water as possible as you swipe to find a flashlight and navigation app, wet fingers uselessly sliding across the screen.

Finally, a small white light pierces the dark from your phone, but still offers no answers of your whereabouts as the navigation app seems to have trouble locating your position.

You keep walking. There must be a way out somewhere.

You can feel your pulse increasing now, you're straining to keep a steady pace and simultaneously keeping on your feet in the slippery path below. The rumblings in the sky above turns to glinting, the rain starts drumming heavier, and you’re slowly realizing this is a losing battle. The dark is total now, and, despite your phone providing a meager shine, you can barely see a hand in front of you, let alone the path you’re on. It’s dizzying, suffocating, and you fumble ahead blindly.

Your hand finds the bark of a tree. You rest your palm against it momentarily, grounding yourself. The world is still here.

Lightning strikes across the sky, and you yelp in surprise, the purplish tint momentarily blinding you and lighting up everything around you. The phone slips from your wet hands and vanishes somewhere in the underbrush.

In the fleeting moments of clear vision, you spot something new. Were those tall rocky formations there before? You must have gotten further off track than you thought.

You curse, leaning down to try and feel around for your phone - your hands brush against the branches of a bush, and the light is gone. It's no use. You can't find it.

You feel around and find another tree to steady yourself on, and head toward where you saw the rocks. If you can find some sort of alcove in between the wall of stone you might just be able to find a secure spot to wait out the storm. Your phone can wait until this passes. Hope reignited, you steady on, careful not to slip.

You palm soon finds the smooth surface of a boulder, and you start to feel around for some sort of opening.

Surely enough, a surprisingly large entrance deeper into the rock formation presents itself only moments later, and you sigh in relief, hauling yourself inside and out of the onslaught of rain.

You still can’t see a thing, but you shake off the worst of the water and stand there for a bit. There's an earthy scent hanging in the air, hinting at whatever entrance you've found goes deeper yet. You decide not to venture further for now, staring out in the murky darkness outside.

A few minutes pass. The rain thunders across the forest, and another blast of lightning divides the skies in blinding flash. You catch your breath, thankful for the small reprieve the rocky shelter has provided you.

But the noise deafens everything else, and you notice far too late that you’re not alone when you sense movement above you.

Something drops down in front of you and a rough push sends you to the floor.

“Not on my watch,” a harsh growling voice sounds, and you feel something heavy forcing you into the ground.

You immediately start struggling, luckily having landed on your back you kick up blindly into the air. You manage to hit whoever is bearing down on you, and they recoil with a hiss and you swear you hear something scuttling. There’s movement all around you, one, to, three, four – you lose count at the rapid sounds of clacking footsteps. You fumble around, palm closing around a stray rock and you hurl it at whatever is above you in a panic. It collides with a sharp clink, and something above you chitters angrily.

In the confusion you manage to turn over on your stomach, and get to your feet. You don’t waste a second before you start sprinting back out into the storm in favor of whatever you just encountered back in that cave.

The now howling winds are accompanied by the sound of rapid footsteps. You pray it’s the heavy rainfall playing a trick on your senses, though you’re severely disappointed mere seconds later as something narrowly strikes past the side of your head, and you know for sure that the thing has given chase.

You turn, and you’re sprinting blindly through the underbrush in an effort to shake them off.

“You think I’d let you get away with this?!” your pursuer roars through the storm, booming voice full of rage. “Get back here.”

You're not inclined to follow that order and grit your teeth, keeping up the pace.

Things change however, as you sense the hunter suddenly leave the ground behind you, and you hear its movement instead above you, using the trees to move about. You try and look up though the canopy conceals most of it. You do however catch a glimpse of an unusually large amount of long limbs moving about in the dark.

You stop dead in your tracks as it suddenly drops from above to land right in front of you, the large figure forcing you to make another turn to avoid getting snatched.

It returns to the canopy above.

Something crashes against the bark of a tree to your right, and you rapidly spin left.

It drops yet again, making you turn on your heels and dash the opposite direction.

After two more forced turns, you realize it’s not just hunting you anymore.

It’s herding you.

You don’t have time to think about where, because suddenly you fall face first into something soft and sticky, and immediately your limbs are immobilized. You flail around, but you only manage to entangle yourself further.

You let out a pitiful whine as the horror of the situation settles within you.

You're stuck.

The rain falls heavy, and for a moment you can only hear your own haggard breathing, adrenaline coursing through your body. The there’s another dull thud, and the sound of multiple footsteps coming closer. Right in front of you is a silhouette of something big coming out from the darkness. Multiple limbs protrudes from a crude lower body like that of a giant spider, though instead of a head you can just barely make out the shape of a humanoid torso.

You stare from under your hood, mouth agape.

This is a nightmare. It has to be.

“Got you,” it snarls, stepping closer.

You struggle against your bindings, realizing now that it must be web, and that you have been herded right into a trap.

It watches you for a moment. “Don’t bother, filthy thief. You’re not going anywhere.”

Thief? You ponder, daring to glance up. One of its limbs heaves into the air, as if preparing to strike.

“W-wait!” you call out, squirming. “I didn’t -”

The limb halt slightly.

“It talks? First time I’ve heard that. Well good,” it steps closer, far too close, and leans down. A hand roughly grabs around your throat. You feel it glaring holes into the top of your head. “Maybe then the thief can tell me where it's hiding my eggs?”

“Eggs.?” you gag, straining. You feel tears prickling in the corner of your eyes. “I don’t – what eggs? Please-”

The hand around your neck tightens, efficiently cutting off your air flow. “Do not play games with me, you little - hm.”

There’s a pause where the grip suddenly lessens. You greedily heave in a shuddering breath and cough.

It shifts, crude legs stepping around you as it settles further down at your eye level, and another hand comes up against your neck, causing you to whimper. You feel its thumbs brushing against your throat.

“Warm.. no scales,” it ponders quietly. You shudder as you feel one of its hands slowly taking the hood of your jacket and lifting it back, revealing your face.

You can make out two sets of eyes gleaming in the dark, taking in your appearance. The other hand somewhat gently grabs your chin and moves you face side to side, as its eyes widen in surprise.

“A sentry?” it – he? blurts, hands immediately recoiling. “Blue moons – I am so, so sorry!”

His entire demeanor changes. He keeps low to the ground, legs folded back and humanoid arms awkwardly fidgeting in front of him.

“Silhouettes are so similar, trespassing my abode during a storm – I thought for sure-” he frantically waves his arms as he speaks, and then settles for crossing them as if he’s unsure where to put them.

You cough, just blearily staring at him while struggling to find words for a few seconds.

“I’m – what?” you stumble, relieved he apparently isn’t set on murdering you anymore, but this stark contrast to the vengeful predator you saw merely seconds ago has effectively thrown you off any sort of loop you could get on.

He starts pacing a bit, nervous. “Four limbs, nimble running styles, covered in fabric from head to toe-” he lists off, as if that should explain anything.

Lightning cracks the sky once again, and you get a glimpse of the being in front of you – the uncanny mixture where his humanoid torso meets the spider lower body is baffling your mind. Something about how he’s put together screams of something wrong, the chittering lower body somehow incomplete and yet completed by the torso above it. It doesn't make sense.

It shouldn’t be possible, yet here it is.

And currently he’s pacing back and forth on spindly legs as if he has a bunch of pent up energy he doesn't know where to utilize. “Chased down and trapped a sentry. Of all the asinine things-!”

You stare at him for a while as he berates himself. He rubs his face in frustration and finally returns his attention to you. He takes a deep breath, and when the spider leans down close again you recoil per reflex.

“Are you alright?” he asks, genuine concern in his voice.

“Let – let me go? Please?” you manage, straining against the webbing to put some distance between you and him.

He blinks. “Oh! Right, yes, of course! Hold still.”

It takes all of your mental fortitude not to scream when the legs of his lower body suddenly get way too close for comfort as he gets to work undoing your bindings, pedipalps keeping you balanced while the upper legs works to easily cut through the webbing, releasing you. He carefully lifts you out of the trap, and sets you on the ground before respectfully moving a few steps back.

You feel like a deer in headlights staring at this thing straight out of a nightmare just awkwardly standing in the pouring rain. Adrenaline is still kicking through your system. Thunder rumbles above.

You weigh your options. Is now a good time to run for it?

When he speaks again you flinch. “You must believe me, if I’d known I would never have – I’m sorry if I frightened you.”

If?

You genuinely thought you were going to die. He was mere seconds from gutting you like a fish. You just keep staring at him.

He fidgets uncomfortably. “I did, didn’t I?”

You don’t know what to say, so you just nod an affirmative.

He cringes, and distracts himself by observing the harsh surroundings, hands in front of his face presumably to keep hair out of it from the wind. “Storm will get worse. If you promise me you’ll assure your custodian I mean no quarrel, I can offer you a safe place to stay dry in my abode if you want?” he looks back at you. “As a way of apologizing.”

You blink. What the hell does that mean? Is he serious? After all that?

“Unless they’re somewhere nearby and you have somewhere else to go,” he continues. “But – seeing as you probably came looking for shelter in the first place, I’ll allow myself to assume that you don’t.”

This can't be real. This might just be a fever dream before death. You're still not sure a tree hasn't just fallen on you and you're currently bleeding out in a ditch somewhere.

“I don’t know where I am,” you croak. “I don’t – how did I get here?”

The spider gives you a somewhat pitying look, and slowly turns to the side. The way his legs move is oddly fascinating. “The middle of a storm is not a good place to find that out. Will you come along? I’ll help you answer that if I can.”

You don’t trust any of that for a second. Notwithstanding he could have killed you, you probably shouldn’t go with a complete stranger in any case at all, nightmarish creature or not.

You look at him wary. He’s started fidgeting a bit again, patiently waiting for your decision. He crouched a bit down, like he’s trying to make himself appear smaller. Nonthreatening.

It's not very efficient.

Though if he’d wanted you dead, you would be. You’re lacking options, you’re drenched to the bone and while the darkness is no longer as suffocating as before, you still have a hard time making out anything. Not to mention the storm getting stronger, for what you know, something even more sinister than the thing currently in front of you could be hiding out in the gloom, and you’d have no way to defend yourself.

This is a terrible idea.

But do you really have anything else you can do?

“I don’t trust you,” you say, and his form slightly falters. “But – you’re right. I’ll.. come along.”

It’s hard to tell in the dark, but his eyes somewhat widen and then scrunch up a bit. You think he’s smiling.

[darth-mortem]

This is a third chapter of my COD fic "At the Crossroads of the Worlds" translated by @g8se.

Task force "141" was sent to clean up a secret laboratory, the research of which was financed by states recognized as sponsors of terrorism. The soldiers broke into a bunker located in the Caucasus Mountains on the Russian-Georgian border. At first, everything went according to plan, but after the fighters split up, Ghost came across a strange room, the door of which locked automatically the moment he was inside. Without knowing it, Simon Riley had set off an experiment that had been brewing here for years, and now he would have to be very strong to finally return home.

First chapter | Second chapter

Chapter 3 of 6. 2,221 words.

Past character death, angst, action, secret lab, experiment, parallel worlds

August 16, 2016. Temporary base of TF 141. Iran. Zagros ridge. Coordinates classified. Experiment Status: Twenty-six hours after successful equipment launch. Vital signs of the subject are within norm. Reality LW414/2016.

“Ghost, wake up.” Captain Riley sighed deeply, recognizing the familiar voice of his younger double.

“We’ve arrived?” He rasped after waking up, rubbing his eyes through the openings in his mask.

“Yes,” MacTavish nodded, getting up. “Will ye help me take Roach to the medical?”

Ghost agreed, and they carried the injured soldier out of the landing compartment. Around them were several buildings, most of which looked quite neglected, and a large hangar with a rusty roof. Inside, a few vehicles and what seemed to be an APC. Once all the soldiers disembarked from the heli, the pilot began manoeuvring it into the hangar. Ghost glanced at him, and the pilot waved his hand before returning back to work.

“What is this place?” Captain Riley asked as they walked towards one of the buildings. “And where are we?”

“We’re in Iran,” Price said, lighting a cigarette. “It used to be a terrorist base. We cleared it, and it turns out we're the only living people left who know about this facility. So, this is our safe place.”

The soldiers repurposed one of the buildings for their needs. Supplies of food, ammunition, fuel, and some other equipment were stored in several rooms. A separate room was turned into an infirmary, and the wounded soldier was carried just there.

“I'll bandage him up and stay with him,” MacTavish said. “Just don't forget to call me when the food is ready.”

“Thank God you won't be the one cooking,” Lieutenant Riley snorted and was the first to leave the room.

Two captains followed him, and the younger Ghost suggested showing the older one around the base.

“Good idea,” Price replied and smiled. “Show him everything around here and help our new friend settle in somewhere. Maybe in your room while Roach is in the infirmary?”

“Sure,” Lieutenant Riley replied briefly. “And who will take care of the food?”

“I will,” Price said, “just need to check on our helicopter first. We took a bit of a beating, and the pilot had to fix everything before picking us up.”

They went their separate ways. The captain of 141 went back to the hangar, and Lieutenant Riley led his older double through the building. He explained where everything was stored, showed a room repurposed as a small kitchen, led to a room where the soldiers could spend time together, something like a recreation room, showed the shower, mentioning that there was artesian water from a well, but it was cold, to say the least – icy. Then Simon pointed to a door, saying that behind it was Price and Soap's room, and he opened it, making an inviting gesture with his hand.

The room was small but quite clean and tidy. There were a few metal shelves, a small table, a chair, and a bunk bed.

“Mine is the upper one,” the lieutenant said. “So, make yourself comfortable on the lower one. Wait a bit, I'll clear space for your gear.”

“Are there any outlets here?” the captain asked and smiled under his mask. “I need to charge something.”

They used a generator for power, and there were not many outlets in this room. So, Simon went somewhere and soon returned with an extension cord with four sockets. Then he began rearranging equipment to make room for the older Ghost's belongings but stopped, watching with curiosity what he was doing. Taking wires and adapters from his cargo pockets, Captain Riley began connecting them to the collimator sight on his assault rifle to some device on the end of his pistol, and to the thermal imager, which he had previously disconnected from his helmet.

“I just noticed how interesting your weapons are,” the lieutenant said, approaching the table. “What's all this?”

“Sit down, I'll show you,” the captain offered. “Come closer so the wire length is enough. This is a modified Beretta M92*. Lightweight frame, waterproof coating, and an eighteen-round magazine. Take it, try how it feels.”

The younger Ghost took the pistol, checked its weight, pulled and pushed back the magazine, then stood up and tried different stances and grips. Under the barrel, there was a flashlight and a Picatinny rail attached to the barrel, but it was empty. On the end, as Simon had noticed earlier, there was a device with a display, which currently showed a charging progress.

“What's this?” The lieutenant asked.

“Turn it on, you'll see,” the captain smiled.

On the side he’s found a small power button. The younger Ghost sat back, pressed it, and saw the message "Ammo" and the number "18" on the screen. Tilting it, he pulled out the drum, and the device immediately registered it.

“It counts your ammo, warns when you’re running low, and reminds you to reload,” the older Ghost smiled. “To me, it's a just a toy, but it helps young and inexperienced soldiers. Now, take the assault rifle.”

“Is this an M16?” the lieutenant put the pistol aside and took the weapon. “Not very comfortable, although the stock is adjusted to you, and you're twice my size.”

“Well, not twice,” the captain smiled. “It's the MX25, based on the M16. Turn on the collimator sight and look around, tell me what you think. And tomorrow, we'll readjust all of this for you, and you’ll try it out.”

Curious, Simon did what his older double advised him. Looking through the sight, he saw a red dot, and then slowly moved the rifle in different directions. It turned out that the collimator sight also distinguishes thermal radiation, even through walls. The lieutenant saw red zones on the side where the generator and the kitchen were. Then he pulled out the magazine, made sure there was no cartridge in the chamber, and aimed the weapon at the older Ghost. His figure lit up in green and was outlined.

“Why are the generator and kitchen red, and you're green?” Simon asked.

“The sight detects obstacles between you and the target,” his older counterpart explained. “It can tell between moving and stationary targets, as well as living and non-living. However, when it comes to latter it’s somewhat limited.”

“This is very cool,” the lieutenant said and laid down the rifle. “What about knives? You love them too, right?”

“Naturally,” Captain Riley smiled under his mask and then unfastened tactical sheaths from his armour and handed one to his younger double.

While Simon examined the knife and played with it in his hand, checking the weight and balance, Ghost removed the chest rig and armour, stretching with satisfaction. Then came the turn of the knee pads and plates protecting the shins. The lieutenant watched with curiosity, and then, setting aside the knife, took one of these plates and raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“It's so light!” he said and, making sure the captain didn't mind, took his armour and weighed it in his hands. “Fucking hell, I would never believe this thing could take a direct shot from a short distance if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes! You probably have a huge bruise there.”

“Not at all,” Ghost smiled and stood up. “This is the latest development, a complex armoured composite material. It not only surpasses older armour plates in strength but also absorbs the impact force, spreading it evenly across the surface. And since we're on the topic, tell me, Simon, why were you there without your armour?”

Lieutenant didn't get a chance to respond. A knock echoed in the room, and a second later, Captain MacTavish appeared at the door.

“Roach woke up ‘n’ even managed tae stand up,” he reported. “And the food is ready, so put away yer toys and let's go ‘ave dinner.”

“Soap!” unexpectedly, the lieutenant got upset. “You can't talk like that to Captain Riley!”

MacTavish blinked and scratched his forehead before looking at the older Ghost and smiling at him.

“Right,” he said, “sorry, mate.”

Ghost waved it off, and all three of them went to the recreation room. Roach was already sitting on the old sofa by the table – pale, wrapped in bandages, but still alive. As Price, who was getting plates ready, said Sergeant Sanderson even made it here on his own two feet, just a bit leaning on Captain MacTavish.

“Soap told me about you,” Roach said in a weak voice, looking at the taller and bigger Ghost. “Said you saved me and Riley. So, thank you.”

“No need,” Captain Riley sat down, and the lieutenant settled next to him. “Tell me, guys, is the fact that you didn't have full gear has something to do with you being on the run?”

“Partly,” Price began serving canned meat and porridge onto plates. “We didn't expect such resistance, nor did we expect that bloody Shepherd would betray us.”

Ghost nodded and, receiving his portion and a cup of tea, took a fork and started eating. For a few minutes, everyone stayed silent, hungry and tired, and then Captain Riley realized that he didn't see the pilot here.

“He's not one o’ us,” Soap answered Ghost's question. “He owes us, so he helps out, but he stays oot of our business ‘n’ sleeps in the hangar. I brought ‘im food before calling ye ‘n’ Simon.”

There were no more questions, and the room fell silent again, interrupted only by the clatter of forks on plates. When dinner was finished, Soap, glancing at Price and seeing him nod, took a bottle filled with some murky liquid from the shelf. Everyone took a sip of their tea, and MacTavish poured something homemade and very unpleasant-tasting into the empty cups.

"Captain Riley showed me his weapons and gear," Simon said when everyone had finished drinking and caught their breath. "Ours doesn't even come close!"

The lieutenant began to talk about the weapon attachments and armour. Price lit a cigar, and Ghost noticed that this older and more serious Johnny was looking at his younger double with a slight but very gentle smile. No one interrupted Simon, and he told them everything, ending his speech by boasting that Captain Riley would let him try his assault rifle once all the high-tech gadgets were charged.

"You know what," Ghost said, looking at his younger counterpart, who, having finished, grabbed a cigarette from Soap and lit it, "I'll give it to you as a gift. I'll leave the charging cable; if you're careful, it will serve you until similar technologies appear in your world."

"Hold on, what aboot ye, going without a weapon?" Soap asked, leaning forward.

"Well," Ghost smiled faintly, and everyone saw it because the edge of his mask was still raised, "I don't think I'll stay with you for long. The reason why I ended up here int the first place was an experiment. And what's the point of an experiment if you can't find out the results? So, most likely, I'll somehow get back. But my gear can still help you. John, my armour will fit you. Roach, you lost your helmet in the mountains, so I'll give you mine. Captain, I see you haven't suffered a knee injury like Price from my world. I don't know if it's supposed to happen to you or if our worlds are completely different, but..."

"You have the same scar as me," Lieutenant Riley interrupted him, touching his lips.

"Exactly," Ghost nodded and looked at Price again. "So I'll give you knee pads and shin plates, and also my Beretta. The ammo in my weapon is standard, so you won't have a problem with that."

Soap wanted to receive his gift right now, so both Ghosts went to the room to bring everything. The soldiers of the 141 began to examine the weapons and try on the gear, and Captain Riley lit another cigarette, feeling that he had done the right thing. However, he couldn't dwell on it for too long because his younger double approached him, and the captain helped the lieutenant readjust all the moving parts of the MX25 stock to fit him.

It didn't take too long. After giving the guys and himself about fifteen minutes, Price stood up and ordered everyone to disperse and get ready for sleep. Everyone, except John, who still had to wash the dishes. While MacTavish was following this order, and Price himself led Roach back to the infirmary to check his bandages, both Ghosts quickly took a shower and returned to the room.

"Simon," Lieutenant called the captain, closing the door, "I also want to give you something. This is my knife. It's not as cool as yours, of course, but..."

"Thanks," Ghost took the knife, examined it, and raised his eyes to his younger counterpart. "Let's trade then, ‘cause how can you be left without a knife?"

For the next few minutes, they spent time attaching knives to their vests, and after that the lieutenant turned off the light and climbed onto his upper bunk. He heard the creaking below under the weight of the robust Captain Riley and quietly smiled under his balaclava.

"Goodnight, Simon," he said.

"And goodnight to you too," came the response from below, and the bunk creaked again as the captain settled in more comfortably.

Lieutenant Riley often suffered from terrible nightmares, but for some reason tonight, he was confident that he would sleep soundly until morning comes.

*All of Ghost's weapons from 2030 are fictional, but some features, such as the ammo counter, already exist in reality today.

[azems-familiar]

on Senator Sejan and that classified military intel

so i was working on a Jedi: survivor fic tonight and i got to thinking about Senator Sejan, the Senator for Utapau who Cal is stealing that intel from at the start of the game - the one who sets up the themes of collaboration to survive/protect people and the idea of choosing the lesser evil. which is a brilliantly-done setup, and everything in it holds up the rest of the game really well, so i started going - why would they never explain what's going on with that information?

from the holoprojection we see when Cal briefly takes a look, it looks like the intel Saw wanted was a list of Imperial military deployments and impending invasions across the galaxy - which is definitely incredibly sensitive, highly classified intelligence that a senator should not have been able to have access to, especially not on an unsecured location like his pleasure yacht, which is basically a glorified luxury landspeeder. it seemed like something incredibly weird for the writers to just... never acknowledge how unusual that is.

so then i get to thinking. it's not really hard to figure out how he could've gotten hold of that information - one thing that we know is that the military, the ISB, the Senate, all of them will have someone dirty, at some level. trading secrets for secrets, or credits, or some other nebulous favor, is probably fairly standard. while this is definitely a high-value thing to get his hands on, Sejan had enough accumulated power to entirely seal off a level of Coruscant and force it to quarantine, despite not being an actual member of Coruscanti planetary government. that leads us to the much more pressing questions of what the hell did Sejan want with that information, and why the hell did he have it on his yacht?

and i think i've found an answer that explains everything.

Sejan is Alliance (Rebellion).

timeline-wise, we're in 9 BBY, which i believe is post Partisan-Alliance split. we know the disparate rebel cells that will form beneath the Alliance's banner are currently being funded, in varying levels of secrecy and deniability, by the governments of the senators who make up the Alliance's leadership council (see: Leia and Bail involving themselves in getting ships and other materials to rebels). we know also that the cells mostly function via receiving information from Fulcrum - and she has to get that information somewhere. somewhere likely very high up. a list of current and future Imperial military deployments would be incredibly valuable to the budding rebellion. if Sejan was hoping to steal that information and then send it out, it makes sense that he'd smuggle it out onto a personal terminal he can control, that probably has his own encryptions - and we know that Fulcrum's encryptions are damn good.

but Lee, you say, Sejan is an Imperial collaborator whose planet hates him! that doesn't fit the profile at all! to which i say: doesn't it? the entire game is about how there are more ways to fight than just the obvious. about how sometimes survival is a rebellion in and of itself. about how fighting back, becoming a weapon, may just get more people killed in the end. the bitter Imperial collaborator is not only an excellent cover to wear - it could even be true. sometimes fighting back means throwing your lot in with the other side, and resisting in the quiet ways. not all worlds are powerful enough, wealthy enough, and Core enough to survive their governing figures being openly anti-Imperial like Alderaan. to win a war you have to be alive to fight, and beyond that, you have to have something left behind to be protect, something there to go back to, when it's all over. as for the bits where he's canonically tortured people - well. have to maintain an image somehow.

the game gives Sejan's reasoning for trying to capture Cal out from under the nose of the Inquisitorius as an attempt to gain favor with the Emperor, but i honestly don't buy that. a clever man (and Sejan has to be a clever man) would know that Palpatine does not appreciate being undermined, especially where the Jedi and the Sith are concerned. i suspect it was an attempt at actually being able to talk to Cal, in some kind of privacy, possibly to try and recruit him away from the Partisans?

which really just leaves the final piece of the puzzle as: why would Saw Gerrera send Cal to steal intel from someone he almost definitely knows is Alliance? and that's pretty easy. we know how Saw feels about the Alliance; of course he'd want to have data on Imperial military movements for himself. of course he'd believe that he could do more damage with it than the Alliance ever could. all he had to do was not tell Cal all the details, and it seems fairly clear to me considering the utter lack of contact Cal has from Saw that while he's a useful frontliner and diversionary force, he's not entrusted with the Partisans' inner workings. for good reason, too - Cal can't lie to save his life.

just some food for thought. but i find it interesting that Ninth Sister accuses Sejan of "consorting with traitors" and kills him without blinking, instead of listing out his actual, theoretically more important crime to the Empire (since it would be very obvious that he wasn't willingly with Cal) - stealing classified intel, locking down an entire level of the capital planet he has no real authority over, and trying to keep a Jedi prisoner away from the Inquisitorius. she doesn't accuse him of harboring a traitor - but consorting with them. to me that's an important distinction.

(i made this post at 5 am, so if there's any errors or anything i didn't explain clearly enough, that's probably why. this came to me like an hour ago while i was trying to write fic. figured the fandom might find it interesting.)

[silverhallow]

Homeward bound

Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie Beckett

With a hint of Kate Sharma x Anthony Bridgerton

Modern Spies AU

Rated: G

Word count: 1.1k

Summary: a little follow on from A Spies Honour. Benedict (and Anthony) waiting patiently(ish) at the airport for their girlfriends to return from a mission that had gone a little array.

Author's Note: this is a little fluffy towards the end and it’s not really angsty just a fun little Drabble

Again thanks @ambitionspassionscoffee for the photo inspiration

Enjoy

Benedict stood frantically waiting for her, his legs and his entire body jingling with nerves as he waited at the airport terminal.

He both loved and hated their jobs, he loved it when they got to do jobs together but when they had to do jobs apart he honest to God, spent the time they were apart stressed out.

This time he wasn’t alone in his stress, Kate had been sent with Sophie on a mission. It required a pairing but as they had to infiltrate a female gang, he knew there was no way he’d be able to pull it off, even if he did look good in Drag.

But things hadn’t quite gone to plan, both he and Anthony had known there wouldn’t be much contact, but they would get some details, some information from their handlers, Lady Danbury, as the girls missions went on.

After saving the world from the deadly supervirus, they had all been recruited to be part of an elite team, doing off the book missions to help keep the country safe. Benedict and Anthony had done a few missions for Danbury before but never permanently but after seeing how they all handled Araminta’s terror organisation, Danbury wanted them all as a team.

They usually went as a foursome, or if they had to go in teams, it was Kate and Anthony and Sophie and Benedict, depending on what needed to be done.

But this time, it was Kate and Sophie for the first time working as a pair. They’d been confident, they used to run griffs as kids and had loads of little scenarios and between them they were unstoppable but something this time had gone wrong.

The girls lost contact with Lady Danbury and the team, they had no idea if they were safe, alive or kidnapped…

Anthony and Benedict had been frantic and had wanted to be sent over to find their girls but Lady Danbury denied them access, locking them out of all the classified material, the mission could not be compromised for their safety.

Their hacking skills left a lot to be desired and they’d asked Eloise and Hyacinth who’s skills rivalled Kate’s and Sophie’s but Lady Danbury had bribed them pretty good to keep them from helping their older brother, they’d been tasked with trying to aid Lady Danbury and just kept reassuring their brother’s that everything would be okay.

But two weeks turned into a month with no word on the girl’s safety and Benedict was growing frantic, Anthony was trying to demand updates as often as he could get them but it wasn’t forthcoming.

They had no idea if the girls were alive still, if the mission had been a success or not.

They knew the plan had changed, from the intel they been able to gather the gang had changed their targets and were looking to hit somewhere in the US but other than that they’d been unable to garner any additional information.

But after 6 long weeks, they finally got an update. Kate’s location tracker was back online, Sophie’s never came back on and Benedict was terrified it had meant she was gone forever but Kate managed to get an encrypted message through to Anthony, the details of the final attack, that Sophie was alive but was nursing a broken arm after they’d been ambushed by a war lord trying to get their hands on the very device they were trying to seize, which is why her tracker was gone, she’d had to cut it out of her arm when the leader of the gang had sent for the medics to set her bone, if they’d found it, she and Kate would have been executed immediately.

Danbury was able to send in a local team to prevent the attack from happening, the entire crew was caught and “arrested”, or least it seemed to be the case, Kate and Sophie were shown to be arrested along with the rest of the crew so not to give away their identities and put them in danger.

Both girls were transferred to a military hospital to undergo checks before they would be allowed to board a flight home.

Which is where Benedict and Anthony were now waiting, not so patiently, for the plane to come in.

It had been nearly 8 weeks since they’d seen their girlfriends, they had been sent on a last minute mission and their flight had landed an hour before they were due to land, Lady Danbury had offered them the chance to go and change as they were still in some of their military gear from their mission.

They watched as the American C-17 plane appeared in the air and started it’s descent towards the ground and Benedict grabbed Anthony’s arm “they’re here!”

“I know, get off me will you” he said, shoving his brother off him as he tried to make himself look smarter.

It took all of their patience not to go hurtling towards the plane the moment in came to a stop, they’d been warned not to get in the way and let them open the cargo hatch for the girls to disembark before making their way onto the tarmac but the moment the cargo ramp hit the floor they could see two figures making their way down the ramps, running at full speed.

Benedict didn’t even hear the resigned yells of “wait!” from the man behind him, he saw that streak of blonde hair and his feet took off.

He ran faster than he’d ever run in his life, “BEN!!!” He heard Sophie screech, he didn’t even see his brother and Kate collide next to him as he carried on running, Sophie wasn’t able to run as fast with her arm in a sling so Benedict got to her before she got him but she wrapped her arms around him as tightly as she could as she felt the tears burst forth as Benedict wrapped her in as tight but as gentle a hug as he could manage.

When they’d spoken before she left, both she and Kate had sustained bruised ribs, and a multitude of other bruises and wounds from the fights but her arm was what had fared worse off. “Never scare me like that again. I thought I’d lost you” he whispered into her ear as he clung to her, she was real, she was home.

“Never,” she whispered as she held onto him. “You’ll never lose me, it’ll take more than a gang of terrorists to take me away from you. It’s you and me forever remember”

Benedict just held onto her, revelling in the fact she was real, breathing her in, the scent he had missed for the last 8 weeks, she was home and she was safe and unable to help himself, unable to stop the question bubbling to the surface he placed a hand on her bruised cheek, kissed her temple and said the words that would make it all permanent, that would mean, forever…

“marry me”

[liebgotts-lovergirl]

Fire On Fire: Chapter 25

(Ch. 24) ... (Ch. 1)

II Gallery II Symbol Guide II

Summary: "Friendship isn't a big thing– it's a million little things."

A/N: Here it is, y'all! 💖

Taglist: @latibvles @softguarnere @brassknucklespeirs @mccall-muffin @lieutenant-speirs @emmythespacecowgirl @holdingforgeneralhugs @parajumpboots @hxad-ovxr-hxart @sleepisforcowards @indigo-luvers @ax-elcfucker-blog @chaosklutz @mads-weasley @vibing-away @eightysix-baby @ithinkabouttzu

Contemporary: November 20th, 1944. Resistance Safehouse, Signy-l’Abbaye, France.

She had been told that her confinement in the dilapidated cabin was for her own protection but Alix was almost certain that the real purpose was to drive her mad enough that even if she were to be captured, she’d have nothing useful to say. 

And it was working, the agent thought as she flipped aimlessly through Wuthering Heights for the umpteenth time. 

She was going to go out of her mind.

No one in the OSS knew where the leak had come from meaning that everyone was now under suspicion, so the only conceivable solution had been to tuck Alix away somewhere verifiably secure until the source was discovered. 

Her sole contact with the outside world came in the form of visits from Captain Nixon, who was the very picture of maladaptive coping mechanisms as he collapsed into a beaten-in armchair by the fireplace with a drink in-hand. 

"Any word on Jen– I mean, Agent Perrault?" Alix inquired hopefully but her handler shook his head.

"Not since the last time you asked. Sorry to say but I wouldn't get your hopes up." 

He gave a sympathetic grimace before reminding her gently,

"MIA usually means captured or dead." 

"'Usually'," Alix insisted doggedly. 

"But not always. There's still a chance she's alive somewhere, waiting it out." 

Her case officer's expression was strained but he said nothing, opting to take a swig of his drink instead of discouraging her any further. 

There was a beat of comfortable silence between the pair and Alix picked at the shoddy couch-cushions beneath her leg with a chipped nail. 

She desperately wanted to ask about Joe but she knew better. 

She would play it cool.

"So what'd I miss? How is everyone?" she inquired casually but her handler let out a snort.  

"You mean, how's 'Joey' ?"

One of the many downsides of being friendly with an intelligence officer, Alix thought ruefully: They Know Too Much. 

 "A loose cannon, that's how he is," Nixon answered himself before taking a gulp of what was undoubtedly whiskey in his flask. 

"He's worried as Hell about you and he's taking it out on anybody within arm's reach. Not to mention, he keeps trying to weasel SITREPs out of me like your status and location aren't strictly Classified." 

The captain shook his head with a grudging, mirthless smirk.

"Have to say, I admire his tenacity but I swear to Christ, I'm half-tempted to put a rush on your paperwork just so I can get some goddamn sleep and Dick can have his best interrogator back. Liebgott's no good to anybody like this and don't we all know it."

Joe was worried about her? 

Alix didn't know what to say. 

Why should he be? 

Shouldn't he be relieved that he didn't have to tie up their inconvenient affair with a neat little bow?

But her conflicted musings were interrupted by the crinkling of cardboard. 

Nonchalantly fishing a small, rectangular snack box out of his pocket, Nixon tossed it over to her with an exaggerated sigh of reluctance. 

“From Muck again,” he elaborated as she caught it, as if she didn’t already know. 

Skip had made it a habit of saving his fruit bars for her. He had told her case officer that it was because he was bored of apricot but Alix knew for a fact that was a lie.

It had started long before that.

╔══ •🖤🖤•🖤🖤•🖤🖤• ══╗

9 Months Ago: February 5th, 1944. Aldbourne, England.

“Hey Doc, is it normal to lose feeling in your legs?" Alix wheezed as she and the rest of the company made the final trudge up the hill to their makeshift campsite. 

"Because I think mine have died." 

“Lucky you,” Don groaned from behind her as he plopped down onto the dirt.

“Mine feel like they're on fire.”

"Mais ya, Pyro," Roe answered as he settled across from her on the ground, swiping some sweat off his forward with his sleeve. 

"We jus' did an all-night hike an' on empty stomachs, no less. Perfectly normal to feel numb, I reckon." 

"Enjoy it," Penkala advised as he took a seat on the empty patch of grass next to Eugene. 

"After the Charley horse I got in Mile 9, I'd welcome some numbness right about now."

From a little ways away, Alix saw Skip Muck– their other best friend– shifting from foot to foot anxiously as he waited in line to speak to Captain Sobel.

As the only NCO in their friend group, it was Skip's job to report their times on each excursion. 

Alix was reasonably confident in their speed– especially on nighttime hikes which were a lot less grueling than in the blistering heat of the day– but Muck always did his best to pad their times anyway to avoid anyone getting in trouble. 

That was just the sort of person he was and Alix was eternally grateful.

The blond mimed dramatically shooting himself with his finger-gun as he waited for the unfortunately long-winded Mike Ranney to finish handing in his group's times and she let out a small giggle behind her hand.  

"Wonder if he'll be done by noon," Don snickered, voicing her own thoughts and Alix shrugged.

"We can dream," she joked as she began to unbox her breakfast unit. "But I'm too famished to wait any longer." 

"Agreed," Alex Penkala chimed in and the usual bartering began. 

"Hey Penk, I'll trade you my Pork & Eggs for your cereal bar," Alix piped up hopefully but the brown-haired trooper sat forward and squinted, his green eyes skeptically taking in Alix's offering.

"That's what that's s'posed to be?" he asked, seeming genuinely horrified. "Are you sure?" 

The Italian's weak nod was the only confirmation he needed to cement his decision.

"Nie, sorry," Penkala answered, partially in Polish and partially in English. 

Alix sighed but at least he had the decency to look somewhat apologetic. 

"Maybe another day?" he added as the spy turned to the friend seated on her left side. 

"What about you, Mal? Pork and eggs for half your biscuits?" she offered but Don jokingly shielded his crackers in response. 

"Fat chance," the redhead quipped. "These are getting drenched in coffee, soon as it's done."

"I'll remember this the next time you ask me for a Wrigley's," Alix teased before turning to the medic across the way, whose dark blue eyes were already fixed on her. 

"How about you, Gene? Up for a trade?"

She held up the tin with a hopeful smile so the medic could view the breakfast ration within but he shook his head apologetically. 

"Uh…'fraid I gotta pass on that," he responded, shooting her a sympathetic grimace as he eyed the tin. 

"It don' look fit for human consumption."

Roe wasn't wrong. 

The medic's prepackaged block of oatmeal had to be soaked in water from his canteen until it was an almost slop-like consistency the color of wet cement but it still looked better than the culinary monstrosity sitting before her in her own tin. 

Using her fork as a poking stick, Alix lightly prodded the chalky egg yolk, hoping to find an angle at which it might at least look a little bit appetizing but found none.

The blocks of pork were so solid that she could hardly get her fork through them and she found herself thinking wistfully of home. 

When she was home for breaks in Chestnut Hill, Penny would make the most incredible Irish breakfast known to man every morning – the fluffiest golden eggs, the most mouthwatering sausage accompanied by the scent of sizzling bacon and bread so fresh that you could hear the melodious crackle of the crust. 

Just the thought of it was making her stomach growl but her musings were interrupted when Doc Roe reached out from across the way and plunked 4 of his 8 biscuits onto her tray with a shy smile. 

"Ya can have 'em for free though, if ya want 'em, che– er, Pyro," he corrected quickly with an awkward cough before adding, "Hope they help." 

Alix beamed back at him. 

"Gene, you're a real peach, do you know that?" 

The tips of the medic's ears turned bright pink and he replied with a "De Rien" so soft that she barely heard it. 

Taking a bite of one of the biscuits, Alix let out a sudden yelp of pain as one of her molars connected with the rock-solid bread. 

"Cazzo! I think it chipped my tooth!"

"That's why you soak 'em first, genius," a familiar voice bubbled from behind her and Alix turned to greet her other best friend. 

"Well well, look what the cat finally dragged in," she remarked playfully as she scooted to make room for Skip in their little circle. 

"Christ, Skipper, did you get lost?" Don piped up in-between mouthfuls of soggy cracker.

"Nope, can't afford to," the blond replied with his trademark glowing grin and unflagging positivity, even as he settled cross-legged into the dirt. 

"Somebody's gotta keep you two outta the nuthouse." 

Eagerly pulling his breakfast unit onto his lap, Skip began sorting through the goods and Alix peeked over his shoulder.

It seemed like that day, only Skip had anything actually worth eating: a Dromedary Bar.

As he slowly peeled back the cellophane, the blond took a second to admire the tropical fruit concoction in his hands and Alix's stomach rumbled enviously. 

"Hungry?" he inquired as he began to worm the bar out of its packaging and Alix sighed wistfully. 

"Starving." 

Flicking out his pocketknife, the blond sawed the bar into two neat halves before scarfing his portion down and gallantly offering the second to his friend.

"You're a saint, Skipper," she proclaimed with a grateful grin as she eagerly wolfed down her half of the sweet treat. 

"Nah," he chuckled modestly, wiping his juice-stained hands off on his ODs. "Just looking out for family."  

“Bon Dieu,” Eugene had marveled from his seat across from them, shaking his head in quiet bemusement at the pair who had both already finished their sections of the bar. 

“Remind me not to let y’all near my mama’s beignets when she send 'em!”

That had been the moment when Joe passed by. 

It had started off innocuous enough, just another paratrooper admiring the scenery with his friends, those beautiful russet eyes roving the English landscape around them when they met hers and Alix’s heart thudded in her chest.

The electricity of the unspoken seemed to crackle in the air between them like a lightning storm, so much heat in one glance that it made her cheeks flush like a wild rose. 

For a brief second, a conflicted expression flashed across his face and Alix remembered the thought in her mind clear as day: 

Two months. 

It had been two months.

Joe looked as if he wanted to say something but before he could get it out, one of his best friends– Popeye, she remembered– had distracted him, babbling on and on about their future return to civilization in the coming days. 

Alix had never seen Joe appear less enthused. As he was being led away to where the rest of his friends were sitting, he took one last look over his shoulder at her, as if trying to commit her features to memory, as if gathering strength to stay away.

But why?

Two months, Alix remembered thinking sadly as she had watched the handsome paratrooper disappear. It had been two months since-

╚══ •🖤🖤•🖤🖤•🖤🖤• ══╝

The sound of snapping fingers dragged Alix from her memories like a vaudeville cane and when she looked up, she glimpsed a half-concerned, half-amused Lewis Nixon staring back at her from his spot in the armchair.

"Welcome back," he remarked and Alix let out a snort of derision, shrugging off his bemusement as she silently grappled with her thoughts.

Why did the memory of seeing Joe all those months ago make her brain burn? Why did that cryptic phrase echo in her mind: Two months. Two months since what?!

Shaking her head to clear it, the spy focused instead on lifting the ration box's lid and delicately unwrapping the cellophane in her lap.

“Jesus Christ, Nix, nice of you to save me some," she commented dryly, inspecting the remains of a crumbled chocolate bar with a cocked eyebrow.  

“Consider it repayment for making me your goddamn mailman,” Nixon deadpanned and Alix rolled her eyes. 

“Well if I was allowed outside, I wouldn’t have to have a mailman, now would I?”

“Not this again,” the intelligence officer groaned, holding up his hands in an exaggerated display of helplessness.

"I'm sorry I said anything!" 

But it was too late; the floodgates had opened and Alix was already launching into her spiel. 

“Nix, it’s been weeks,” she griped, slamming a free hand onto the moth-eaten sofa cushion beside her for emphasis. 

“I can’t take much more of this shit! I’m tired of twiddling my fucking thumbs while there’s a war going on out there!” 

“You’re preaching to the choir," her case officer said dryly, picking at a twig stuck to his fatigues. 

"As soon as your new cover's been backstopped, you'll be the second to know, I swear. So give it a rest, okay?" 

A beat of silence ensued and Alix wished fervently that she'd been allowed a radio so she could listen to music. 

But alas, a radio signal was too dangerous.

There was no swing jazz on Earth that was worth being found by the Gestapo.

"Have you heard anything about my next assignment?" she probed curiously and the flicker of recognition in his eyes told her he had. 

"That's 'Need To Know'," he replied evasively, casting a glance onto the worn-in floorboards. "And you don't, not yet." 

Alix huffed impatiently and strained to reach the knife set by her shoulder on the side-table.

Flexing her fingers around the grip, she gave it a leisurely throw just behind Nixon's shoulder at the faded red target on the wall with a THWACK causing him to duck in alarm.

"God, Runt, could you not do that please?" her handler snapped as Alix sent another sailing over his shoulder, the blade whizzing through the air and sinking into the target with another THWACK! 

"It's unsettling."

"Is it?" Alix cocked an eyebrow with a smirk, flinging her last knife at the target, the sharp metal sinking into the center with one final, satisfying THWACK! 

"My apologies." 

"You don't sound very sorry," Captain Nixon grumbled. "But you're going to be in a minute."

Digging into the canvas rucksack he'd placed on the floor earlier, the officer retrieved a hefty stack of paperwork and handed them over the coffee table to her.

"More notes, to be typed into complete reports by 8:00 tomorrow morning. And that's an order." 

"Enjoy it while it lasts, Nix," Alix commented sardonically over her shoulder, as she rose from the sofa and crossed to the faded black typewriter resting on the kitchen table.

"They can't keep me cooped up here forever. Soon, you'll have to type up your own fucking notes when I'm in the field again." 

"Well you're not there yet, hotshot," Nixon snorted derisively, the corners of his lips quirking up into a grudging smirk. 

"So get to work.

[random-iz-stuff]

hey irken culture headcanon person here again. for the specificity i just kinda really want a master doc of headcanons on iz although mainly i’d also like to know ur headcanons on like ethnicities of irkens, if you get what i’m saying. like one of my headcanons for irkens is that they’re bug-based. so different types will classify as different races, like a roach-based irken would be a different race than a moth-based irken and then the species of said bug would count as ethnicity cause a bunch of different irkens probably live on a bunch or different planets cuz invading and all that and im turning off anon cause i need to write abt this on my tumblr and just like share it with the world cause im actually getting somewhere in this au okay IM DONE TALKING

My version of irkens are rather different compared to that.

Because my versions of Irkens don’t have differing types and don’t really HAVE different ethnicities in their culture, at least not anymore. They’ve all been either merged into one singular “Irken” ethnicity or destroyed, both accidentally and on purpose.

I say accidentally because the Irken race has a LOT of destructive wars and culture destroying moments in its past, especially one known as The Unity War, which was a massive nuclear war that almost wiped out the entire Irken race as a whole and ended with all of Irk uniting under a single government that would quickly become the Irken Empire we know today, and on purpose because the Empire went out of its way to destroy, assimilate and merge as many ethnic groups and cultures as possible into one singular ethnic group for control reasons. It’s easier to control a population if said population is made up of one singular group of people instead of many.

Combine that with the fact that all planets with smeeteries on them (Irk may be the Empire’s capital and the planet that makes the MOST smeets, but it’s not the only planet where Irkens are born) are located deep within Irken territory and rather close together on a cosmic scale and you don’t have many (or any) purely Irken ethnicities apart from the basic Irken one.

However, there are many differing sub-cultures within the Empire. They all connect back to the Irken Empire and it’s one ethnicity and culture and share those core values of the Empire with the Empire always coming first, making them sub-cultures of the main Empire culture instead of real cultures of their own, but they do exist and they can be found all through the Empire.

Many things can affect the sub-culture of an area. What other races exist nearby, the general use of that area to the Empire, the presence of other sub-cultures, etc.

Starting with that first thing, “What other races exist nearby”. I can’t find the exact post, but I mentioned in a different ask about Irken romance and courting stuff that Irkens don’t have actual courting rituals or traditions of their own because their own culture related to love and romance has been completely obliterated over time, so they tend to borrow the traditions of other races they encounter and use those instead. It’s the same thing for Irken sub-cultures, but on a larger scale. They have no purely Irken cultures besides the singular one, so many Irken systems located near the systems of other races will borrow some of the the cultures and beliefs of that other race and incorporate it into their own sub-culture.

Due to Irkens and Vortians being really friendly with one another until rather recently with Miyuki’s death and Spork blaming said death on the Vortians because she died in a Vortian Scientific Station, Vortians had a rather large influence on many Irken sub-cultures, with Vortian elements being present in many of them. But it’s not just Vortians that have their cultures borrowed from and incorporated into an Irken sub-culture of some kind. Basically any race besides the Meekrob can and have had elements of their cultures borrowed by Irkens.

This also affects religion. Surprisingly enough, the Irken Empire doesn’t really have many rules against religions. As long as the Irken puts their loyalty to the Tallest and the Empire as a whole first and doesn’t let their beliefs get in the way of efficiency (and the religion in question doesn’t go against the cultural rules and traditions revolving around Irken hands because that will ALWAYS go first), the Irken is free to worship whoever or whatever they want. The Empire CAN get involved if they deem it necessary, but they rarely if ever do.

The closest thing the Irken Empire has to an official religion is worshiping the Tallest themselves, and that doesn’t often get in the way of other religions that worship actual deities. If anything, it helps the Tallest remain popular because religions Irkens will often find ways to fit the Tallest into the religion they worship by themselves like believing that the Tallest are appointed or chosen by the top god of that religion or something like that.

Invaders and other Irken jobs that involve a lot of travelling also help in this regard, as they go all over the galaxy and experience a lot of different cultures and often intentionally or not bring elements of those cultures back with them when they go back to Irken territory.

Secondly, what the area is used for. A system populated by a lot of scientists and scientific stations will have a very different look and feel compared to a system filled with military stuff. And that affects the local sub-culture by quite a lot. A military-heavy area is more likely to borrow and copy the cultures and beliefs of a more militaristic and strength based culture, a science-heavy area would naturally gravitate towards more science based cultures and be more interested in those beliefs, etc.

Thirdly, interactions with other sub-cultures. Sub-cultures, like regular cultures, change over time, borrowing and incorporating new elements, dropping older things that no longer work, merging with other, similar sub-cultures, new sub-cultures splitting off from older ones, the like.

The Empire itself also keeps a close eye on all of its many sub-cultures, getting involved whenever it believes that one of them is getting too far away from the Empire’s core values. It’s very rare that this happens, but whenever the Empire decides to crack down on a particular sub-culture for whatever reason, that sub-culture and everything similar to it is doomed, often being completely destroyed or at least reduced to just a few members in a matter of weeks.

[playedbetter]

Acker's Multiverse Classification System

Elias created an unofficial classification system for the multiverse to classify universes based off of factors such as danger level, tech level, and the presence of things like magic. Both Elias and Leah use this system, and it will also be generally used on the blog.

Brief note: Spawning refers to where a hopper will appear in a universe, usually it will be the equivalent of where they entered a gate, which typically is just directly on the other side of the gate. However in universes where the action is happening far away from where the spawn point world be, or that a direct equivalent doesn't exist, it will spawn the hopper at a place equivalent in spirit.

Elements inspired by @chaosmultiverse

Danger Level

Class 0-A: No danger at all besides from environmental obstacles such as water or cliffs. The universe might be post apocalyptic with ruins of civilization present. Fauna is extremely limited and there is no sapient life in the universe. Life is sustainable here due to ability to get supplies through some means native to the universe.

Class 0-B: As above but life is unsustainable due to a lack of native supplies. These are more likely to have no complex fauna at all and extremely limited flora.

Class 1: Danger is extremely limited, but possible to encounter. Fauna and flora are likely pretty normal. Sapient life can be present, even in great numbers. Powers might be present but aren't strong or the full applications of them never used. This includes universes such as most toddlers cartoon universes and some children's, post apocalyptic with some survivors who have banded together, and slice of life aus.

Class 2: Danger is present but not overwhelming. Most universes similar real life life fall under this class. Powers are more likely to be present but still are rather limited. This includes universes such as most realistic universes, historical universes, some fantasy and sci-fi universes.

Class 3: Danger is difficult to avoid but not overwhelming. Powers are far more likely to be present in these universes. Fauna and flora start to get more dangerous. Minor apocalypses may be in their starting days or immediate aftermath or beyond. This includes many superhero universes, fantasy and sci-fi universes, and historical world war era universes.

Class 4: Danger is impossible to avoid or overwhelming in some way. Powers are highly likely in these universes. This includes universes in nuclear war, universes with eldrich conspiracies, apocalyptic universes, and some superhero universes.

Class 5: Danger is impossible to avoid and overwhelming. These worlds are nearly certain to become class 0 universes at some point once life has been wiped out. This includes universes with extreme apocalypses, worst case scenario nuclear war or powered war, post arrival eldrich universes, and universes near the end of their existence.

Class X (theoretical only): Entering these universes result in instant death, or near instant enough that escape is impossible. This includes universes where the spawn location is somewhere like the sun, there are no planets with a survivable atmosphere, all human life immediately ceases to exist, etc. Currently these universes are only theorized to exist as neither Elias or Leah have attempted to enter one, and haven't accidentally.

Class Z (theoretical only): Universes that do not kill instantly, but that are impossible to escape. This includes universes that instantly remove any and all powers a person has, ones with no surfaces to draw on or material to construct with (or universes lacking any form of door if lacking equipment), and ones that remove a person’s soul immediately. Currently these universes are only theorized to exist as neither Elias or Leah have attempted to enter one, and haven't accidentally.

Class Null: Universes that don't exist. These are extremely rare, but do exist (or well, not exist) such as universes Leah or Elias do not have, have not, and will never exist in. This also is used to refer to universes they try to enter with impossible specifications such as if trying to encounter the version of the other they know and then other specifications don't match the universe the other is in. Trying to enter these universes results in the hopper getting booted to the void.

Tech Level

Alpha: No tech at all to stone age.

Beta: Bronze age to iron age.

Gamma: Medieval to age of sail.

Delta: Industrial revolution.

Epsilon: Mechanized age.

Zeta: Nuclear age.

Theta: Technology equal to 21st century earth.

Iota: Technology feasible in the next fifty-hundred years.

Kappa: Full sci-fi but grounded in some present science or feasible scenarios.

Omega: Advanced technology beyond what is considered ever possible.

Extras

Magik: Some form of magic is present in the universe.

Powered: Powers not obtained through magic is present in n the universe.

Xeno-1: Humans don't exist or are not a dominant species, instead there is a different sapient dominant lifeform.

Xeno-2: Humans co-exist with other sapient life, possibly multiple species or just one other.

Regressed-(tech level): While their tech level is higher most of that tech is unusable for one reason or another, and besides from some choice things, they operate at this lower tech level.

Terra: The spawning planet is not earth, and earth may not exist.

Screwy (Leah only): Universes that Elias has significantly changed in some way, such as removing or adding people.

Eli territory (Leah only): Universes that Elias frequently is in and exerts a claim on.

Leah territory (Elias only): Universes that Leah frequently is in and exerts a claim on.

Examples

Since this is such a dense read here's a few examples of the system in use.

DC Prime Earth: A class 3 iota magik powered xeno-2 earth.

Star Wars: A class 3 omega xeno-2 terra.

Dragon Age: A class 3 gamma magik powered xeno-2 terra.

Payday: A class 4 theta magik earth. Would be misidentified as a class 2 theta earth.

John Wick: A class 2 theta earth.

The Walking Dead: A class 4 theta regressed-epsilon earth.

[first-impressions-gaming]

Citizen Sleeper

Developed by Jump Over the Age

Published by Fellow Traveller

Release Date 2022

Tested on Xbox Series X

MSRP 19,99 USD

“Nothing comes free Sleeper, remember that.” -Sabine

That’s the mic drop moment in Citizen Sleeper, Sabine, who is a doctor in Bright Market, is not talking about a dystopia in a far away galaxy or time. Citizen Sleeper is set in a futuristic time and in a spacecraft in the galaxy, yet every single detail and character is relatable by us. Right now and then, in this moment.

Before diving into the game, I’ve read somewhere that “Citizen Sleeper is Disco Elysium set in space” and seen this game recommended in Disco Elysium’s subreddit, personally I would not go so far to suggest that this game is equivalent of Disco Elysium in any aspect. The scope and frame are really appealing, that’s for sure, and as a Disco Elysium worshipper, this game can find an audience, majority of whom have played Disco Elysium before. Most noticeable likening is the dialogue window, conversation is displayed on the right side of the screen and you select choice-based dialogues basically. The second one is that the game puts forward that this is a (post)-capitalist world and we witness the life and background of characters are scarred by everything suıch a world brings. Some characters are more willingly talking about their past compared to others and we can read between the lines even when they are not explicitly talking but giving us glances of their past. 

At the beginning we find ourselves in a scrapyard in a spaceship, we awake and Dragos, the seeming owner of the makeshift scrapyard, greets (well, ‘greet’ is a generous verb, more like ‘hey, you are finally awake, uh’) us with fatigue and disdain. We are trying to get our head around what did happen, when did happen and how much time has passed since we were conscious. We do not remember onboarding on this spaceship, and where are our mates? Why are we completely alone and a total stranger to his ship, named Eye?

We are directly interacting with the world through the map as a point-and-click game, the spaceship being the whole map. Navigating through the locations and finding your way is not difficult, since it is completely text-based. I will raise my suggestions and feedback about the map in the next paragraphs.

You get to track one active mission, which will be marked and tracked with a yellow icon, popping up on the location to direct you. Of course you can progress multiple missions simultaneously, not tracking a mission does not mean that you cannot progress it. There are missions such as “Find a Doctor”, “Investigate the Wreckage”, “Gain access to a specific location” etc, though the map is not that huge, it is not that easy to pinpoint where to look always, let’s say for a particular person, item or a place without help. For instance, your very first mission is named “Survive” and you have to find a doctor because as a Sleeper you need to obtain a special medicine to properly function, and the game directs us to Bright Market, and once we success at talking to the locale, the location to the doctor unlocks on our map. These types of “go to the location and complete a side-mission to reach to the main person/location” missions are commonplace. 

The game runs on a couple of mechanics, with which you can get familiar quickly: first there’s real-time interactions, where you deal with dice (the amount of dice that you will receive a day depends upon your energy level and you need your medicine to keep up your energy which decrease daily), cyro (currency) or other components (such as classified info, data that you can harvest by hacking and trade them), and there is cycle-based interactions (cycle means ‘day’), it is crucial that you check cycle-based actions each cycle for example you hack into Harvenga’s server and three cycles need to pass before you obtain any info or you need to wait at least a few cycles to receive your medicine from the doctor.

As previously mentioned, you receive dice each cycle, and the number of them depends upon your energy level, yet the numbers on dice are random, you may get low numbers such as 1 or 2 or high ones like 5 or 6. Of course 1 and 2 do not put you in a disadvantaged position all the time, when you are hacking into the servers you are requested to put dice with 1 or 2. So, getting high numbers would not guarantee you a successful cycle necessarily. 

Now I’ll expand upon missions, there’re always multiple active missions and with your limited dice you cannot expect from yourself to complete each mission, the game essentially presents you various missions and it is up to your choice how to progress your story. The story takes turns and you meet new characters as you complete missions and makes choices during dialogues. For instance, I frequented Overlook Bar a couple of times, then you meet the owner, Tala, who offers you a job at the bar, and after working there four times (by spending dice), your relationship with her gets closer, then you can help Tala build a distillery for the bar. 

The freedom in progression allows the gameplay to be non-linear and each player’s story would branch our in a unique way naturally. On the other hand, I got a bit stressed thinking and calculating in which mission I should favour, especially when I was running low on dice. This un-guided story progression did make me anxious, I wanted to know whether I was making smart choices and not wasting my time on dead-end missions. There’re some missions that would go hand in hand, when you complete them one after the other the progression takes pace. If you are not paying attention that much, it makes you feel you are not getting anywhere.

Character designs are top-notch, maybe it would not do the justice, still they can be described as anime-like. In case of environments, it is such a step-back compared to character designs. We never get a chance to see environments in person. We view the spacecraft as a map, and we don’t see the places physically when we visit them, therefore the overall design looks generic and uninspired. I would love to see Feng’s hideout, Tala’s bar closely. The thing is that obviously the developers put lots of effort into character design, I mean they look and feel original and sophisticated, but did not design any environment, or it was a more of afterthought. Perhaps this part of development got cut from the budget. We are experiencing the ‘environment’ through text-based narration and descriptions. I anticipated that we would see the environment in the background when we visit a location.

Citizen Sleeper will take you on a journey where you get to meet unfamiliar faces, strangers, both hostile and friendly, you will be a part of their world, and they yours. This title is one of my favourite text-based games of all time, simply put. 

[charcherry-weekly]

Charcherry Weekly - Issue 226

Hello everyone, Mage of Light Nick Card here. I am well fed and ready to give the news!

Parked at Park

Early this week, there was a soft opening of the Park station, located near the site of The Park (which is still closed down). This massive station is just as large, if not larger than it was when it directly served The Park's patrons. Your Dear Newsletter writer got a potential invitation to check it out and write a report about it, but unfortunately I just wasn't up to it this week, despite journalistic duty. I still have a number of human limits, unfortunately. Maybe next week will prove to be less difficult for me to grapple with. Regardless however, it is open for interchanges in particular. Park Station is slated to be apart of the Loop Line, which is still in the works.

One Who Seeks The Light

Early this week, your dear newsletter writer got in contact with a very curious troll. Her name will not be published for privacy concerns. She had managed to make her way onto a train going off-world and eventually ended up somewhere safe. I have been offering her advice, as she is eager to learn about the outside world beyond Neo Alternia. Details will not be provided, but she has managed to prove herself as an ally to the dungeon crashers through use of her technical skills, of her own volition. That being said, if anyone harms even one hair on her head, I will not hesitate to track any harmful actors down. Further potential action beyond that will not be published.

Friendsgiving

On thursday, Brae Emit held her annual friendsgiving harvest feast. Many of her friends and family attended the get-together. A great deal of different dishes were offered, a few of them brought in by various guests. At some point, Rogue of Heart Charles ended up cleaning the solar panels on the roof, it is unknown if this was out of gratitude or anxiety. It was a relatively laid-back event, with not much of note that occurred during that time. Everyone went home with ample leftovers, as is the tradition every year. Personally I enjoyed my time there this year, and I look forward to future events there.

Black Friday

The day after friendsgiving, a great deal of businesses all ran sales at the same time, many in preparation for Frogmas, which is somehow almost as commercialized as christmas. The conflicts however, are reportedly just as, if not more ridiculous. I do wonder if there's any Dawnsring talent scouts out and about at the Spaceport Mall recently, because its practically a maul over there.

In other news, a number of corporate websites, including at least one that had been running a sale lately, have reported being hacked and defaced by an unknown hacker, often with the reported webpages being replaced with public service announcements about the targeted company's unethical practices. Further details are still being investigated.

Classified ads

Rail engineers wanted! Contact theUnderground for details.

Do you need therapy? Have you been impacted by the cosmic creation game in some manner? Do you have weird problems that likely have supernatural factors? Contact Dr. Winters at 555-555-0125 to schedule an appointment.

Professional Chaositter at your service! Please contact Fluff the Chinchilla at 555-555-0084 for inquiries.

Do you want to get something extra special for your special someone this holiday season? Come visit Chawishe Market for a wider variety of artisan goods! Do note that credits are not accepted directly, they will first need to be converted to gold pieces at the trade checkpoint on the way to the city from Desertia Town. (disclaimer: travel at your own risk, the road between the Mystic Gateway and the city itself has been known to attract thieves and dangerous creatures. Escort services are available by request if needed. No, you cannot bring your futuristic economy-breaking device through customs, please stop asking.)

Do you want an ad here? Contact lavenderSiren to get an ad for whatever. If you don’t write it yourself, you risk the newsletter writer writing it instead, do be warned.

This week’s known market stands in Desertia Town:

DTA train ticket stand

Katie’s potion stand (Not available to plitlanders due to regulations, available to all others however)

shinyjiggly pokesnacks stand (also has a Unity Village location!)

Rubber shark stand

Rolling pin stand

Bike helmet stand

Haircare product stand

Thermometer stand

Goods Warehouse: - adamantine (1 lb.) (300 gp) - 1 square yard of cloth (1 sp) - 1 pound of copper (1 sp)

Traditional Shop: - Pot, Iron (2 gp) - Chair, folding (2 gp) - Rope, silk (50 ft.) (10 gp) - Field survival guide (20 gp) - Blanket (5 sp)

That probably covers everything. I had forgotten to mention last week that the egg hatched and the pokemon is a spritzee! I have yet to come up with a name for the cute little pink bird looking creature. Its highly likely that one of the parents is Smelly the Aromatisse. Other than that, I've been working on this absolute slog of a cutscene that takes place in a slow moving line. It still needs a lot of cleanup, but I've got the structure put together, at very least. I'm hoping to finish this chapter this week and then move onto some in-between scenes. Goodnight everybody! https://letssosl.boards.net/thread/464/charcherry-weekly-issue-226

[limitlessrecyclings]

The Best Kept Secrets About Paper Shredding Services Melbourne

Effective waste management stands out more than it could have before in today's world where information security becomes more vital than ever before. From household to corporate entities, no one wants sensitive documents scattered somewhere without being destroyed, whether from a law or from other regulatory aspects or protecting your personal and corporate information from the wrong eyes. Paper shredding services have emerged to be a crucial solution in Melbourne. Let's get the best-kept secrets about paper shredding services Melbourne and make well-informed decisions.

Paper Shredding Services in Melbourne: A Glimpse

Basically, paper shredding in Melbourne provide the shredding of confidential documents so as to ensure that there is no unauthorized access. The companies normally offer on-site and off-site shredding solutions for the customers so that they can select a service that best fits their needs. The company will provide services for all ranges of needs-from small businesses that may have few paper shredding needs to larger corporations that require big archives.

Secret 1: Not All Shredding Services Are Created Equal

While hunting for shredding services Melbourne, the most important thing is not everyone does equal reliability and safety while doing the job. Some need research on certifications in how they comply with other industries. Look for some service providers that follow the principles set by organizations like National Association for Information Destruction, or NAID for short. These give out their certifications to confirm their firm sticks to best practices-especially concerning sensitive information. Ask them the type of shredders they use because high-security shredders are important for securing classified documents.

Secret 2: Environmental Benefits of Shredding

Many people tend to forget that shredding services in Melbourne have an environmental benefit. After shredding, most of the waste paper is recycled instead of being sent to landfills. This will not only reduce carbon footprints but also contribute to a circular economy. A reputable waste management company would ensure that besides shredding your documents safely, the shreds are also handled in an environment-friendly manner through E-Waste recycling. This will imply that choosing the shredding service not only ensures you will safeguard your information but also the environmentally conscious practices.

Secret 3: On-Site vs. Off-Site Shredding

When choosing which service you should opt for, on-site or off-site shredding, you need to know what both services mean between the two. On-site shredding involves the shredding truck coming to your location, and you can actually see the process happening in real time. This will give you some peace of mind, especially if the documents are sensitive. Off-site shredding would involve picking up your documents and taking them to a secure facility. This is the more economical option for bulk shredding, but one has to have trust in the service provider. Determine the sensitivity level of your files in terms of determining which service is the best for you.

Secret 4: Shredding Scheduled Services

Many Melbourne shredding services provide scheduled shredding services, a somewhat underutilized resource. Scheduled shredding enables companies to arrange regular pickups, meaning documents are shredded methodically and not kept on site any longer than is necessary, as would happen with an ad-hoc collection when a large amount of paper accumulates. Scheduled services not only ensure time-sensitive documents do not linger onsite, thereby reducing the threat they pose, but they also help save time and other resources. Scheduling may ensure better compliance with privacy legislation and internal company policies.

Secret 5: Document Retrieval Services

Some other not-so-popular service that shredding services in Melbourne may provide is document retrieval and management. Sometimes after shredding, companies would require their historical documents for audit or legal purposes. Saving time and business interest through a complete solution service would save you a lot of headache. They can organize and identify what needs to be kept within compliance requirements so that the shredding company does not end up doing something against your business legal parameters.

Secret 6: E-Waste Solutions Complementary to Shredding Services

With technology moving forward, the E-Waste solutions are also seen to advance and are thus considered in addition to paper shredding. Most of the shredding companies in Melbourne have broadened their services to include secure destruction of electronic devices such as hard drives and other storage media. This dual approach is very essential since sensitive information may reside on digital formats, and without proper shredding, it remains vulnerable. Identify an organization that can provide overall destruction services to ensure all types of sensitive data will be destroyed confidentially.

Secret 7: Compliance with Australian Privacy Laws

Privacy laws in Australia dictate that businesses appropriate measures to protect private information. A reliable paper shredding service in Melbourne may play a crucial role. Several shredding companies know these legal requirements and may provide supporting documentation stating proper shredding practices have been followed. This documentation is critical during a compliance audit and can also protect against liabilities stemming from data breaches.

Secret 8: Cost-Effective Shredding Services from Professionals

On the other hand, though I thought that maybe initially, professional shredding services would cost more than an office shredder, the reality is mixed. Professional shredding services in Melbourne can be very cost-effective in the long run. It will save time and administrative costs of in-house shredding and avoid the need to purchase high-security shredding machines regularly, equipment maintenance, and waste disposal logistics.

At its core, mysteries surrounding Melbourne paper shredding services present a world of benefits beyond the destruction of paper products. In effect, the services form an integral part of ensuring the safety of sensitive information and compliance with laws regarding privacy, while they promote sustainability and specific needs through E-Waste solutions and document retrieval.

Make the research before getting the service provider. Learn about the services they give you, how they maintain security over your information, and if the services can work for you. You'll be not only keeping your information safe but doing good to the environment while staying in line. Searching for shredding services in Melbourne can save you some secrets as you make a better choice to be safer, more sustainable, and efficient.

[theuntoldoriginsoftheportmafia]

Part Ⅳ The Port Mafia - Chapter 2.4

⏲ Miles To Go ⏲

1,134 Words

It's been a month and there still has been no one found in all of Japan that comes close to touching Ranpo's olympian intelligence.

'No matter, there is still the rest of the world.' Fukuzawa sighs, shaking away the fatigue as he continues to pour over lists of the world's most intelligent. Results from trivia competitions, chess and maths tournaments, memory challenges and more. No one is good enough.

Normally he'd have mafia grunts do this type of work, but this is personal. No one else knows exactly what Ranpo needs and all affairs relating to the third mafia executive are classified anyhow.

Just as the man's eyes start to close again he spots something sticking up from the bottom of the pile. It looks different from the other perfectly white papers.

He pulls it out, careful so as not to rip it.

'What's this, a newspaper clipping? And it's American? How odd.'

He presses it against the desk with his palm to flatten it. The paper's name says it's located somewhere called Boston, and the headline reads:

"Incredible Young Author Solves Murder That Stumped Police For Years, In Three Days!"

This headline is the first thing in the pile to truly intrigue Fukuzawa. He checks the date, it's only a week old.

"How on earth did a week-old newspaper, from America of all places, get here?" he mutters to himself. The only response he gets is the soft mewing of the calico cat at his feet. Elise insisted that they just had to take the poor animal off the streets. Fukuzawa thought it looked to be doing just fine, it wasn't scrawny and its coat was glossy, but Mori couldn't deny Elise's wishes.

He reads the article, written by a woman named Gloria Montressor.

"Early Thursday morning, 19-year-old Edgar Allan Poe, the son of late Elizabeth Hopkins Poe -nee Arnold, and David Poe Jr, the founder of Usher Publishing House, sought out the local 12th police precinct for help in searching for his lost racoon, Karl. While there, he happened to see some of the evidence for the formerly ongoing Iceman serial murder case. 

In exchange for finding the lost mammal, he offered to assist the police officers. At first, they were reluctant, but now they're glad they accepted. It took the incredible young writer only three days to solve the case and track down the culprit, an ability user by the name of Robert Frost. 

It turned out that Frost, who appeared by all accounts to be your friendly local elder, had ever since his early twenties, been luring victims to his poetry reading and then using his time extension ability "Miles To Go Before I Sleep" to lock victims in the basement of his estate and torture them. When faced with arrest the 88-year-old, ended his own life with a gun he had in his home. His victims were all found in various states of harm, but by far the most curious thing was that, according to IDs and driver's licences found in the basement, and medical tests, every victim is far younger than they should be. 

Authorities guess that the nature of Frost's ability is to slow down time and trap victims in this slowed time. They assume it is also the reason for the slow progression of the infections in their wounds. This may have spared their lives, but they will never recover these lost years. Many mourn the loss of pets and loved ones and wonder how they will ever reconnect with friends or return to their previous careers.

The hero of our story, the young Mr Poe commented that it was only fair he used his great intellect to help out, since it would hardly be any trouble for him and the police helped him reunite with his furry companion. He seemed in quite a hurry to be off and refused to offer more citing that he had to return to work on his next great mystery novel.

Thanks to this incredible boy, we can all feel a little safer, even as the threat of ability users becomes a growing concern."

'Oh, this is promising. He seems to have the same type of intelligence as Ranpo, and he writes mystery novels. He's perfect. He solved it in only three days, well, that's nowhere as fast as Ranpo, but this is as close as anyone has gotten. I ought to buy some of these novels for Ranpo. Yes, I'll do that.'

Fukuzawa can feel sleep overtaking him and decides to wait until the first thing the next morning.

-

Ever the early riser, Fukuzawa is up at 5:00 AM and having nothing urgent to do he begins the search for the novels. With the internet these days, he should be able to find them without much effort at all, not to say he wouldn't search the ends of the earth to find his son a friend.

He frowns when he doesn't find them on the Usher Publishing House website. Why wouldn't his own father's publishing company carry his son's books, dead or not?

He tries again searching: "Edgar Allan Poe novels"

Another website comes up, it's clearly a much smaller company. The banner says Rue Morgue Publishing. On the right side is a grainy, pixelated graphic of a black cat scratching digital claw marks on the screen and on the left is a raven, the gif blinking and letting out a silent caw every few seconds. 

'This looks like some type of website where one would buy illegal things. Is this the dark web?' Fukuzawa thinks.

But sure enough, all of the teenaged author's books are available here, and for reasonable prices. The site claims that these novels will leave even the most erudite readers stumped until the very last detail of the solution is revealed. Fukuzawa buys a copy of each of the three novels.

'I wonder if his gift applies to fictional mysteries as well? If not this will be a nice challenge. It should entertain him for a while . . . but he's so used to knowing everything. I hope it won't be distressing for him.'

-

Pleased with himself, Fukuzawa returns to his usual routine with his morning workout.

He's only startled out of his concentration when a large weight settles on his back. He manages one more push-up before surrendering and sinking back down.

Ougai doesn't get up. "There's an incident that needs our attention."

"Well, I can hardly give any attention to anything with you sitting on me, now can I?"

"Oh, was I sitting on you, I must have forgotten! How rude of me!" the mafia leader teases, standing and extending his hand to his partner.

"Yes, very rude."

Elise mimes falling over dead. "Dying" with a dramatic, "Ugh!"

"Can this issue wait until after I freshen up?"

"I could tell you as you do,"

"That works just as well." Yukichi shakes his head as his partner falls into step beside him.

[amischiefofdeets]

JIM MORIARTY

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CHARACTER SUMMARY

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Former account: StorySpinningSpidcr Jim Moriarty is a name you never want to hear, the man is a monster hellbent on destruction for his own amusement. Unlike Sherlock, when he is bored he begins to tear the world apart rather than focusing that in on himself, toying with people as though their lives are meaningless - which they are, to him at least. Note: I will NOT soften by Jim for others consumption. He is a dangerous villain who is incapable of love and care, seeing people only as objects, though some more useful and less replaceable than others. Do not expect any muse to be treated otherwise unless it is some kind of act to benefit him.

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MUSE DETAILS

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Name: James Moriarty Nicknames: Jim, M Race: Human Born: October 7th Age: 36 Height: 5'8 Gender: Male Sexuality: Gay Location: [CLASSIFIED] Occupation: Consulting Criminal Abilities: Genius-Level Intellect, Master Tactician, Master Manipulator, Expert Intimidator, Expert Deceiver, Expert Networker.

Scars: N/A Tattoos: N/A Alignment: Chaotic Evil Goals: Cause as much chaos as possible, avoid being bored Hobbies: Creating chaos, starting conflicts, destroying things, anything that stops him being bored. Mental state: Cold, unfeeling and distant. He has forever been incapable of real attachment, this doesn't bother him at all. Disabilities: N/A Reputation: People know him as M, a criminal mastermind who is untouchable to most. If people know him personally then generally he's seen as a cold unhinged psychopath who just enjoys making chaos. Family: [UNKNOWN]

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VERSES

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#STAYING ALIVE - AU set post season 3.

This is where my Jim diverges from canon, as he returns to ensure his favourite toy isn't taken away from him for good. If anyone is going to kill Sherlock Holmes, it's going to be him.

#CROWNED - Set from Season 1 until the end of Season 2.

This verse is entirely canon to the show, set while Jim is working as a 'consulting criminal'. Do not be mistaken, he certainly loves to toy with Sherlock Holmes but that is not his only focus, he is pulling many strings for his own amusement. People may vaguely know who Jim is depending on where this is in canon (due to his very public trial), though keep in mind that he's not likely to stop and play nice with some stranger approaching him for no reason.

#BEGINNING - Set during Jim's childhood.

This verse is during Jim's childhood/young teen years. He may or may not be intent on becoming a criminal in his future depending on whether a particular thread is set before or after the death of Carl Powers. Please keep in mind that he's not likely to open up about his lack of empathy or such things unless he TRULY trusts you character, which isn't an easy task.

#DANCING - Completely set apart from canon.

Jim is not AS bad as his canon counterpart, not entirely lacking guilt but certainly not a good man by any stretch of the imagination. He runs the Criminal underworld, punishing or killing criminals that step outside his very strict boundaries. In this verse he doesn't target innocent people (though some are certainly caught in his web on occasion), his work is entirely focused on the criminal underworld. -- He adores leaving dead criminals for a certain Consulting detective to find.

#TIMELY - Victorian era AU.

This Moriarty is somewhere between what we know from the old stories and the Jim we love from BBC Sherlock, he's a professor in public and maintains a good reputation while directing the criminal underworld in secret. He isn't likely to be his usual manic self in full view of the world, he'll act like a proper gentleman when necessary but that slips away when it is time for business. While based on the mind-palace version of Jim from the abominable bride, this verse is based on the notion that it was real (and thus Jim didn't blow his head off in Sherlock's lounge).

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TAGS

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[asrtron]

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[thailandzipcode]

LATEST THAILAND POSTAL CODE 2023

WHAT IS THE POSTAL CODE IN THAILAND

Thailand Zip codes are regulated by the Universal Postal Union as well as Global Zip Code. Postal codes in Thailand has five digit numbers like as Vietnam Postal Code. The first two digits of the postal code denote the province or special administrative area, while the last 3 digits represent the post office within the province.

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Thailand lies in the western piece of Indochina, somewhere in the range of 97 and 105 degrees east, and extending from 5 degrees to 20 degrees north from the equator. Lying entirely inside the Jungle of Capricorn in the Northern Side of the equator, Thailand is lined by Myanmar toward the west and northwest, by Laos toward the north, and east, and by Cambodia toward the southeast. The southern area of Thailand lies on the Bay of Thailand, while the long isthmus of the landmass lies on the Bay of Thailand in the east and the Andaman Ocean and Malacca Waterway toward the west.

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