#cycler world

[saltavista]

[redsrooftopprincess]

Assassin, Part 3

Fem Reader x Raphael

Warning: graphic description of a bipolar crash (or, at least how I experience them) over this chapter and the next. Please take care of yourselves and don't read if you think it might trigger you. Much love to my fellow rapid-cyclers. 💚

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

After the storm of emotion had passed, Splinter sat with Raphael until the moon had crossed over the house, discussing the matter more calmly with his son. Eventually, Raphael felt stable enough to at least make it to bed.

The front steps groaned under his weight, and the paint flaked off the banister like snow in July, as he made his way up the front porch. Today had been a lot.

It had started out beautifully. The early morning mist held fast to the light of dawn as the five of you spent the morning setting everything up. Light swirled around your waist as you worked on place settings, and he was pulled to you.

He walked up behind you, just watching for a moment, affection blooming in his chest. You had ruined his life in the best possible way. Meeting you had brought up so many things he thought he'd let go of a long time ago. It made him hurt in ways he can't even begin to describe. And he is so very grateful.

You'd held each other, swimming in the golden light, and for just one moment he knew how it felt to hold sunlight in his arms.

Then, the ceremony.

Raphael reaches for the screen door handle and depresses the button, pulling it open. The hinges screech their usual protestations, and he cringes as the sound digs the exhaustion headache further into his skull.

That low had hit hard and he should have been expecting it. It'd been a minute since he got triggered like that, but you've always had a way of getting inside his head... You were so damn beautiful...

"Hey," you'd said, peeking around the door to the "boys room" where Casey and the guys were drinking waiting. "You guys almost ready?" When you stepped around and into the room, Raphael forgot how to breathe.

Perfectly coifed and painted in pin curls and neutral make up, and adorned with matching teardrop moissanites in your ears and around your neck (a pre-wedding gift from your brother), you looked like you'd stepped off the silver screen in 1940.

The silk of your floor length forest green dress flowed around you like ink in water, and the thin straps holding it up might as well have been non-existent. His eyes followed the curve of your neck down to your shoulder. His mouth watered and his mind wandered. He wondered what it would taste like. He looked away. Fuck's sake. Couldn't he just look at his beautiful friend in peace?

Minutes later, you'd slipped your arm through his as the two of you waited for your cue to walk down the aisle. A light dusting of pink bloomed in your cheeks when his arm had brushed against your silk covered breast, and your warmth radiated through contact. That warmth poured into his veins, and he felt something in his chest begin to spin.

It had been such a good week. Too good. And some part of him knew that. He'd drawn a deep breath, and exhaled, maintaining a mask of calm. He could feel the crash coming, and prayed he could at least make it to the other side of the wedding before it hit.

He'd spent the week in bliss, planning, packing, driving, and setting up his best friend's wedding with the most beautiful, sweet, smart, and sassy woman in the world. Now, he was going to pay for it.

Don't think about it. Don't think about where you are, or what this is, or that she's literally about to walk down an aisle with you. *Don't* think about it.

The awaited cue came and the two of you stepped out into the early evening light. He'd tried so hard not to look at you as you crossed the threshold, but it had been a lost cause from the beginning.

A Summer Goddess walked beside him. Skin full of golden sunlight, you'd caught his eye out of the corner of yours and your playful smile could have lit up the world. When three steps in the skirt of your dress fully bloomed to reveal a scandalous amout of leg from the slit three-quarters of the way up your thigh, he nearly tripped.

Every look, every brush of silk against his skin sent ripples through him, pushing the spinning in his chest faster. It was the longest twenty-five feet of his life.

When you reached the archway, you turned to him and your hand slid, feather light, down his arm into his. He gazed down at you and smiled.

He wanted to stop you. To pull back on your hand and pull you into him. To take his own and place it softly against your cheek, the other around your waist. He wanted to look into your eyes with every word he's choked down since the moment he met you. He wanted to slide his hand into your hair, tilt your head up, and capture your mouth with his.

This was the closest he would ever get.

With one last gentle squeeze, your hand slipped from his, and his fingers tingled from the loss of contact. You'd each walked to your respective places, and when the music changed over and Bride walked down the aisle, all eyes were on April.

Except his.

.....

Less a lover, more a fighter

But I'm tired of fighting to hold on

Got too many scars to hide them

So it's easier being on my own

But you

Shoot first, draw blood, before I know

Yeah you

One shot, one touch, and I let go

How did this happen?

My walls were up and

You moved without a sound

Never imagined, like an assassin

One look to me down

Assassin - Sultan + Shepherd

...

Tag list:

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll

[macgyvermedical]

Let's Talk ESRD and Dialysis

Have you thanked your kidneys today? Do you feel grateful when you pee? How about when you eat a little too much potassium or drink a little too much water, do you really enjoy feeling confident that your kidneys will just dispose of the excess?

If so, you probably know the alternative.

About 10% of the world's population has a condition called Chronic Kidney Disease, or CKD. About 2 million of those people are in End Stage Renal Disease (ESRD) and require dialysis or a kidney transplant to live.

Your kidneys are amazing things. They are two organs that sit outside of the sac that hold the rest of the abdominal organs, called the peritoneum. They take in blood from the body, determine the levels of electrolytes, water, and waste products in that blood, and remove the waste products and excess electrolytes and water.

They also have secondary tasks. They monitor the amount of red blood cells in your blood and send out hormones that entice the bone marrow to make more when we're low. They also monitor blood pressure and release hormones that raise that blood pressure when it gets low.

Lots of things can hurt the kidneys. For example, poorly controlled high blood pressure and poorly controlled diabetes are among the top reasons why kidneys fail. Additionally, being dehydrated while engaging in strenuous exercise or taking medications like ibuprofen or naproxen (any NSAIDs) can cause kidney damage.

We measure how well the kidneys are working via the Glomerular Filtration Rate, or GFR. This is a measure of (essentially) how much blood in milliliters the kidneys filter per minute. 90 or higher is normal, while a GFR of 15 or lower is considered ESRD.

So let's say someone has a GFR of less than 15 and the decision is made to start them on dialysis and put them on the kidney transplant list. What options do they have?

Well, they need to figure out if they want to do hemodialysis or peritoneal dialysis.

In hemodialysis, the patient is hooked up to a machine that runs their blood across a special membrane. On the other side of the membrane, a solution called dialysate draws excess water, electrolytes, and waste products from the blood. Hemodialysis is usually done at a dialysis center for 3-5 hours, 3 times per week.

Hemodialysis is better for patients who have either failed home peritoneal dialysis or can't or aren't comfortable with doing the technical part of the job by themself at home. There is also a social component, where dialysis is a chance to meet and interact with other people who are going through the same things they are.

People who undergo hemodialysis have to have some kind of "access", or a way for the blood to come out of their body, go through a machine, and go back into their body. For some people, this is a dialysis catheter that is inserted into the person's chest and looks like this:

It can also be a fistula. A fistula is the surgical connection between a vein and an artery in the arm or leg. Over time, this connection becomes large and rubbery, and each time dialysis is done, two needles (one to remove blood, and one to return it) are placed in the fistula. A fistula often looks like this:

In peritoneal dialysis, the patient instills the dialysate directly into the sac that holds their abdominal organs. The sac itself acts as the membrane, and dialysate draws the electrolytes, water, and waste directly through the sac wall. They then wait a certain number of hours, and drain the dialysate. This can be done manually by the patient during the day, or at night while the patient sleeps with a machine called an automatic cycler. Usually peritoneal dialysis is done every day, with 2-4 cycles of 4 hours per cycle.

People using peritoneal dialysis also need a form of access, but instead of it being to their blood stream, it is to their peritoneum. Here's what that looks like:

The catheter is placed surgically into the peritoneum, and stays there all the time, even in between dialysis sessions.

Someone using peritoneal dialysis has to be very careful when they are accessing their dialysis catheter. This is because the biggest problem with peritoneal dialysis is the risk of a life threatening infection called peritonitis. Someone who gets peritonitis too many times may need to switch to hemodialysis.

Here is what a manual exchange looks ilke:

Someone may choose to do peritoneal dialysis over hemodialysis because it affords more freedom to keep a job or do daily tasks like keeping house. People who do PD also don't have to find rides to the dialysis center. However, they do have to take on more of the responsibility for making sure they do treatments correctly and be able to keep accurate records of the treatments they give themselves. Peritoneal dialysis also tends to be less taxing on the body, and have fewer side effects than hemodialysis when done correctly.

[charlesoberonn]

You got any book recs? :)

I do!

The Ash and Sand trilogy by Richard Nell is a great and interesting dark fantasy series.

For fans of Sherlock Holmes and detective fiction in general I recommend some of James Lovegrove's Holmes books. Particularly The Stuff of Nightmares and The Thinking Engine.

Yahtzee Croshaw's (yes, that Yahtzee from Zero Punctuation) DEDA Files books are also great. Mystery/fantasy/comedy series about the world finding out about the existence of extradimensional deities and their effect on our world.

One of my favorite books of all time is a pretty old one, Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions by Edwin Abbott. It's about a 2-dimensional world of geometric shapes and it's got some of the best worldbuilding in any work of fiction.

The Conqueror's Saga by Kiersten White is a pretty unique romance/historical/family drama series about a female version of Vlad the Impaler.

The Bobiverse Trilogy by Dennis E. Taylor is also very fun (didn't like the fourth book tho). His Quantum Earth series is also good.

The Last Dance by Martin Shoemaker is a very engaging mystery/character exploration book about the captain of an Earth-Mars cycler ship (a ship that goes back and forth between the two planets).

The Chrysathamere Trilogy is a fantasy/military series about a pair of twins who go from being the children of a prostitute in a brothel to the top of an empire's political system.

The Wells of Sorcery series by Django Wexler is a fun series that reminds me a lot of Avatar in a good way, albeit much darker.

The Long Earth is a unique series about humanity discovering the existence of an infinite series of parallel universes and how they explore and settle these parallel Earths.

I also have a lot of non-fiction recommendations.

[ky-yk]

tears of the kingdom (ayj x f!reader)

genre: fluff || word count: 1.7k

author's note: two works in a day, who is she?? anyways my kitsch obsession gave birth to my jock yujin fixation and then this came about so i hope y'all enjoy mwamwa

"zelda...zelda...where is it?"

maybe there was a god up there because the sequel to one of your favorite games of all time, the legend of zelda: tears of the kingdom, happened to come out on the last day of your final exams of the year. you'd been skipping lunch since the game was announced so that you could pick up a copy for yourself on release day. and now here you were, scanning the wall of small titles against bright red spines looking for your well-deserved reward.

mumbling to yourself, your eyes repeatedly raked over the switch covers while debating with yourself whether you should cut your losses and just ask the lone worker by the counter. which you'd rather die than do -- the only person you'd want to be talking to is princess zelda, thank you very much.

a certain someone didn't get the memo, apparently.

"um, hey," you heard from beside you. everyone and their mother could recognize that voice anywhere.

"you're y/n, right? i'm yujin, we go to school together."

of course i know who you are, ahn yujin. resident quarterback, heartthrob, and obnoxious little sh--"oh yeah, that's me," you ended up saying.

don't get it twisted: you definitely saw the appeal if she just wasn't so. damn. loud. your morning would be perfect: birds chirping, wind blowing, and food digesting until you'd hear yujin and her cronies pass the halls making way too much noise for 6:30 in the morning.

"oh thank god, someone who can help me," she sighed in relief. your curiosity was piqued: why was yujin in a video game store at 9pm on a friday night when jang wonyoung was throwing a huge rager on the other side of town (whether or not you were invited is unimportant).

"you do know there's someone who gets paid to do that right over there, right?" you remarked with a raise of your eyebrow.

"i mean, i guess you're right, but i could say the same for you."

how long had she been standing there then?! and how did she notice that...

"touche."

she beamed, showing off her charming eye smile. "well, can you help me?"

"with...?" you asked apprehensively. if there was anything you were known for, it was for reading into things way too much. your friends would go to you last for anything because of how much time you spent directing every little happening. what if i'm being punk'd and the whole football team is outside ready to burst through with their cameras and--

"um, my friend sakura's birthday is coming up and i wanted to get her this game," she pulled up google and then showed you her phone. "you know it?"

lo and behold, there was the cover art for the very game you were looking for.

"oh yeah, i know it. i've been looking for it here too, actually, but it doesn't look like there's any on the shelves."

"huh," she remarked with a pout. cute--wait, what?

"i mean, we could try asking the guy over there? you know, the one who gets paid to look for it?" i asked, looking over to the tall and lanky boy who sat behind the counter who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else.

she chuckled. "well, i guess you're right."

on the short trip across the store, your mind would not. shut. up.

wait, she knows kkura-unnie? but her and kkura-unnie could not be farther from each other on the high school food chain. then again, anything is possible: this is a world where ahn yujin could act all shy and quiet, notice me talking to myself, and look like a puppy dressed in her varsity hoodie and cyclers instead of partying it up with the rest of the school.

"excuse me, do you have this game in stock?" she asked the boy -- whose name tag read 'felix' -- expectantly.

"hm, we've only got one copy left though," felix replied after checking the stack of switch games under the counter and placing the lone copy on it.

you and yujin looked at each other, eyes wide, and going through your own dilemmas.

"oh, really...?" you asked.

"yeah, a bunch of people came to pick up some copies throughout the day."

"hm, alright. well, she'll take it," yujin said.

felix hummed in acknowledgement and scanned the game while you looked over at the girl in disbelief.

"but..."

"kkura-unnie's birthday isn't until sunday; i've got time. come on, felix is waiting for your payment."

you didn't even register him telling you the price because you were just staring at this girl. what in the...

"oh, i'm sorry. here you are," you said as you took out your weeks worth of allowance. yujin noticed your face scrunch up as you passed over $70 in cash to felix and couldn't suppress her little chuckle.

you both made your way out of the store with yujin holding the door open for you and the rest of the store to be met with a gust of cold, refreshing night air.

"are you sure you don't want this game? it might be hard to find tomorrow -- i mean, you saw how this was the last copy they had in stock..." you turned your body to face her, arms flailing about as you spoke. all you were met with was an easy smile from the star quarterback.

"don't sweat it, y/n. i saw that you really wanted it and besides, my presence is enough of a gift for kkura-unnie, don't you think? she'll understand," she replied cheekily, causing you to roll your eyes in response.

"anyways, i'll get going, bye yujin!"

"wait! do you need a ride home? it's pretty late, don't you think?"

"don't sweat it, yujinnie," you turned her words around on her. "my house isn't much farther from here."

"don't you live nearby wonyoungie?"

"yes...? how'd you know that?"

"i've been known to be observant," she replied nonchalantly.

"is that just code for 'stalker' or..."

"yah!" exasperated at the accusation, she hit your shoulder.

"i'm kidding, i'm kidding, god did you have to hit me?!"

her eyes went wide in worry. " i am so s--"

"stalker, violent, man, wait until the school hears the truth about their resident heartthrob," you joked, trying to ease her worries, which seems to have worked when you saw her shoulders relax and her trademark smile take over her features.

"anyways, let me give you a ride home. i was going to go over to wonyoung's anyways," she said.

"if you insist," you replied.

quietly, you both made your way over to her car. she opened the door for you before making her way over to the driver's side, the action making you raise your eyebrows before getting inside. she turned on the ignition and reminded you to put your seatbelt on.

"i'm not an idiot," you rolled your eyes.

"better safe than sorry, y/n. i wouldn't want your blood on my hands."

your eyes might as well have been seeing the back of your skull with how much you'd been rolling your eyes at the girl. when she heard the buckle click, she started making her way out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

around strangers, you were usually reserved. you pretty much just flew around the school like a ghost, doing your own things with no one minding you. it took a while for you to get talkative.

it took one night for ahn yujin. what can you say, the girl was interesting.

"i'm curious, how do you know kkura-unnie?"

"oh, we go to the same dance class every weekend."

she dances?! "you dance?!"

"is that so surprising?" she spared you a glance before focusing back on the road. she's got precious cargo after a--what?

"kinda, yeah. i'm learning a lot about you, ahn yujin."

"only good things, i'm hoping."

"very good things, yujinnie."

after talking about anything and everything, you realized she'd already pulled up to the front of your house.

"well, here you are."

"oh. alright," you replied, the disappointment evident in your tone. you were about to open the door when yujin spoke up.

"hey, i don't know about you, but i had a lot of fun, y/n. if you're down, do you wanna hang out again...?" she looked over at you like she was preparing for the worst.

all you gave her was a small smile. "i'd love to, yujinnie."

her entire face brightened up and then she grabbed a marker from her glove compartment. you just stared at her as she grabbed your hand and wrote her phone number down, your face heating up slowly but surely.

"text me, okay?"

"alright, yujinnie. go enjoy your party!" you said as you walked out and closed the door.

"and go enjoy your game, y/n. good night!" she called out and waited for you to go inside your house before driving off.

6 months later...

your morning could not have gotten any worse. you slept in, skipped breakfast, and it was raining like hell. the rowdy quarterbacks were basically drowned out by the storm.

which explains why you didn't notice her until you felt a heavy yet comforting jacket resting on your shoulders, followed by slender arms wrapping around your shoulders. you looked up and saw ahn yujin: star quarterback, quiet lover, and your heartthrob.

"hey," she looked down at you with an easy smile. you smiled back, although it looked a lot more like a grimace as your lips formed a thin line and your cheeks puffed up.

"i saw your messages. i brought you a croissant," she said while placing the paper bag on your desk.

"thank you, yujinnie," you said while wrapping your arms around her waist and tightening your hold on the girl. past y/n would be screaming, crying, throwing up at this, you thought to yourself. she hummed before leaving a soft kiss on the crown of your head.

"i'll go ahead, but i hope your morning gets better, love. are we still on for later?" she asked expectantly. you chuckled. "of course we are, yujinnie. go now!" you said as you playfully shoved her away. she ran off, but not without sparing you one last glance: the same one that got you hooked all those months ago.

"eh?! you're dating yujin-ah?!" you heard from beside you. your eyes went wide as sakura's unmistakeable voice finally settled in.

this'll be a long morning...

[fair-night-starry-tears]

Im high from seeing Disney speed storm. So let’s do a nice racing event for NRC vs all school event with a racing ring. Or do an underground race rink au

We got speeddemons, cyclers(motor cycles), and jet skates.

After every night, there’s always an underground race ring at an area that allowed the dangerous yet intense racing in the world. Students all over do this in the thrill of a race. There’s always a challenge for whose school is the best.

But for an school event. This race is an all across the world type where the dorm heads of the school have to work together for their respective school as a teamwork

Darling comments on how her old crew were on the race. They came second place with RSA/WAI at first. And have photos of her old team unhinged moments

@adrianasunderworld @mangacupcake @writing-heiress @the-weirdos-mind @skboba-stars @nproduction626 @rose-tea-and-strawberries @anxious-twisted-vampire

Taglines:

Race Around the World of Wonderland

Underground wonderland race

[elbiotipo]

Some quick notes on SPACE in the Biopunk World:

Earnest settlement of space began with the development of reusable rockets by the US and China in the 2030s, and later single-stage-to-orbit rockets by Brazil and Argentina in the 2050s. With proper infrastructure, soon trips to the Moon and space mining became commonplace.

The peak of space exploration was in the 2090s, when radiotelescopes found evidence of alien civilizations and manned expeditions were sent to Jupiter. It culminated with the opening of the Santos-Dumont space elevator in Brazil in 2096.

This golden age was cut short by World War 3 and the Ecocide. The destruction of space infrastructure generated a Kessler Syndrome that is still being cleaned up by the new UN. Most space projects have been suspended or with skeleton crews.

The US-EU and Sino-Russian programs are still around, but kind of obsolete. The main space powers are the UNASUR joint programs, India and East Africa.

Brazil has the largest space fleet, not surprising, since they have the only space elevator. The orbital city of Hy Braseal hosts most of international space infrastructure, including the UN's cleanup program (think the guys from Planetes). Brazil mantains bases all over the Solar System, and in fact Brazilian "icebreakers" supply bases that were isolated from the Kessler Syndrome.

The second largest space organization in the UNASUR is Tawantinsuyu. Buillt on a modernizing effort in the 2080s-90s, they own two Aldrin Cyclers that make the Earth-Mars trip. Notably, they never stopped their space program even at the height of the Ecocide; most of the growing population of Mars is of Andean descent (they're very much "Mars to Stay").

The third largest in the UNASUR is Argentina. Out of national pride and reliability concerns, they keep their own shuttle and space fleet. They also have the third largest asteroid mining program, behind China and Brasil (about 15% of Argentina's GDP).

Before the Ecocide, the space population (permanent and temporary) was reaching the tens of thousands. Now this is much reduced. There are other concerns rather than space exploration... but that might change.

Some major space milestones: Disovery of first alien biosphere (USA, 2030s) First men on Mars (USA, 2030s), Permanent Moon base (China, 2040s), Commercial space mining (USA, 2040s), First child born in space (China, 2059), first child born on Mars (USA, 2061), discovery of alien dyson spheres (2084, international telescope led by India), first space elevator (Brazil, 2096), manned mission to Jupiter (UNASUR, 2098), interstellar probe to Alpha Centauri (international, led by India, UNASUR and East Africa), manned mission to Saturn (UNASUR, 2113), WWIII, Ecocide and Kessler Disaster (2114-2123), reopening of the space elevator (2129)

[yuus-sentient-teddy]

The pleasant fragrance of roses followed them out into the waking world. Orange afternoon sunlight streaked across the ceiling and turned the crimson rose-patterned wallpaper a glinting marigold. Slowly, Yuu sat up, taking in that they were lying on one of Heartslabyul's wonky couches in the lounge. On the coffee table were the Ghost Camera equipped with its add-ons and their bag. Feeling a sudden jolt of worry, they carefully inspected the camera and dug through the contents of the bag. None of the photos seemed to be missing, but one of the special lenses were.

What were they doing before? Yuu's eyes wandered around the room. They remembered trying to take a picture of a candelabra when they heard someone coming. They escaped out a window and ran into the Rose Maze. At some point, while trying to find their way back, they realized one of the lenses was missing from the lens holder/cycler.

That's right. They had spent hours looking for it and must have fallen asleep. But then, who brought them to the couch?

"I was afraid you wouldn't wake up." Trey Clover strolled into the room, his usual small, polite smile on his face. "You slept pretty heavily and didn't even stir when some of the sophomores argued in here."

Yuu felt a lump in their throat, quietly watching Trey take a seat across from them. Everything in their body was telling them to run, to not trust him, but why? They never felt this this morning when he gave them an egg tart and he was never hostile towards them in the time the two of of them were acquainted. Carefully, they took in his face and found nothing betraying irritation nor stress. His body language was also laxed and he didn't fidget with his glasses.

They met his eyes again. Bright mustard even though, ironically, mustard was his least favorite food. They would have smiled at the story behind it if they didn't feel like they were approaching a monster's den. They continued peering into his eyes, wanting to know what lied within even as the unease grew. Then suddenly, a lightning bolt of fear paralyzed them in place.

They were just about to look away when Trey closed his eyes, brows scrunching and smile twisting in slight amusement and concern. "Prefect, are you okay? You've been staring at me without saying anything."

"Um--" Yuu's mind reeled from the unintentional scare and hoped it wasn't too obvious. "Yeah, sorry. Just groggy."

"I can understand that. By the way, Grim had come by earlier while you were sleeping and said to come back before dinner. He seemed pretty adament about that tuna cassarole."

"What time is it?" Thankful for the excuse to avoid eye contact, Yuu looked at the floating clock behind him. "Yeah, I better go soon."

As they were leaving, Trey called out to them. "You probably know this already, but be careful with where you photograph. Not everyone likes having their picture taken."

[houseofgeeks]

Paralympics Day 1 & 2 Recap

I am not able to watch as much as I did with the Olympics, because I have to work, so only one screen for me. But I have still watched quite a bit the last two days. I just forgot to post yesterday.

Day 1:

Day 1:

Watched Wheelchair Rugby (USA vs. CAN and DEN vs. FRA) USA/CAN game was stressful for me as a USA fan, the US was ahead for most of the game, but there was about 60 seconds where Canada was able to catch back up. The US was able to come out ahead at the end of this one. the DEN/FRA game was fun to watch because the French crowd was so into it! And seeing France end up winning was great.

Goalball - FRA vs. BRA (men's) - I really expected Brazil to just beat up on France in this one, but France really held their own until the last 2 minutes or so. It makes me interested to see how France fares against everyone else considering Brazil is world rank 1 and defending Olympic champion.

I also watched some swimming and track cycling including a heart breaking crash at the very beginning of a British cycler's time trial during the finals. :(

We ended the day with 25 Countries medaling and China at the top of the leader board.

Day 2:

Archery round of 32. So much rain. Got to watch the first head to head match of two armless archers in the Paralympics. Matt Stutzman had and amazing round. Considering the rain, there were some excellent shots.

Para Badminton: Watched a couple of games. Both very fun to watch, just round robin play still.

Boccia: Watched a match where the Japanese competitor was only using 5 balls, instead of 6 because apparently one of his balls did not pass pre play inspection. He ended up losing, but he still scored a couple rounds.

Sitting Volleyball: USA vs. CHN (women's): Had to go back and watch this even though I knew the results. The US had a good first set, but could just not recreate that afterwards losing 3-1. China looked so good, and had a couple of service runs that were amazing.

Table Tennis: GER vs. CHN (womens) Gold medal match. This one was close, and I really like that they only score to 11, best of 5. Feels a lot quicker than other net ball sports where they go to 21 or 25. It was a lot of back and forth, one team would come ahead and then the other team would catch up. But in the end it was China 3-1 for the victory.

There was a lot of track and field and swimming today that I'll have to catch up on later (gotta watch club throw and shot put for sure).

Medal table at the end of Day 2 sees China at the top, with GB in 2nd and Brazil in 3rd. France is sitting in 7th as the host country right now. 48 countries have medaled after day 2!

[boltslutters]

Are all your ocs robots in some way? Or I guess what species would you classify them as (for the non tf ones)? 

Nope! They might look like it, but a large portion of my ocs are anthro dragons because my writing started as a wof au and it'll cherish those roots goddamnit. And some of the more robotic ones too aren't man-made, so it's like a flavor of biological. As for species, 90% of them are made up for this world specifically. Of the ones in the image, the non-man-made-robot and organic/semi-organic species are:

Illizyka's species isn't named, but she's a void-corrupted creature that uses a metal body to be able to interact and operate in any world as sol pleases.

Don't have much on this gal's species, but it's bug-like with a chitinous exoskeleton.

9H7R-A (Niesserae)'s species is the closest to organic machine I have. They are specifically lab-grown and designed to keep a highly mechanical and technically precise civilization running essentially forever.

I think this guy is mechanical, but he sure as shit doesn't stay that way for long.

Peyon is part of a race of mortals who compliment and worship their gods. They're small, mammalian, and are trait-dependent to which god/arcana they live in. Doll is their sentient doll based off an old sona of mine.

Don't remember this guy. Think their species is semi-mechanical

This guy is completely mechanical, but wasn't built by mankind, instead, by a self-sustaining mechanical race of quadrupeds I call Cyclers due to wheels they hold on their body magnetically. (there's actually lots of more ocs of this species, but they have distinct beaked snouts instead of strict triangle and I was not going to subject myself to more torture than I had too).

Rose, Thunder, & Torus are all members of a species of insanely powerful but insanely empathic species that runs the dominant governmental body of the main world. Torus was on a diplomatic mission, had too much of their old power and was too empathetic. Through accident, they became an amnesiac and through their empathetic powers, latched onto the memories and emotions of the local populous, and ended up believing they were a member of said species and would live on before someone figured out.

Killjoy, Toizon, Heron, Guziel, Datar, Banott, Stung, & Professor Tebya are all pat of a race known as Ermista or Ista depending on how badly I cringe at the name Ermista. They're a race of bug/bird-like bipeds who completely lack sexual dimorphism, live on a planet with a sun that hates them, and has a metamorphosis where they get their wings.

Of any race here, Ermista have the most lore and culture, such as most Ermista who live up north tend to live in small villages. Most know how to hand-weave fabric, as they make a flag they put into the ground to mark where they're cocooning (they go through metamorphosis unground), then carry that flag through the rest of their lives as a mark of identity and a sort of right of passage. They have different systems of magic and those systems interact differently with each other (although some are more fleshed out than others). They don't have a dominant sex and don't really exercise gender roles at all.

This one's a god. He could use a philosophy class about pain.

These two are creations of that god (called Paragons), designed to be perfect, never rot, and never suffer, and essentially lead the happy lives he never got to.

Ionize is also a member of that same species, just far, far into the future after Titatiaraum is dead and members of his perfect race have since either left, evolved, and otherwise altered.

I've almost forgotten everything but I do remember her species was pretty short compared to everyone else.

I'll save these because you mentioned them in another ask ;)

Another god, this one turned mortal willingly and got to watch his god-siblings tear themselves to shreds.

Part of a race of immortal beings that rot into animals, and grow back/heal into trees. I suppose this guy also needs to be included too

Yet another god, this sucker's puppeting a mechanical body though

Semnastica and Mourana are both members of the same species, Semnastica being male and Mourana being female. They're both quadrupeds and have powers because they hatched under blood moons because I made Semnastica when I was 14 at most. (I'm thinking about making these two's species (or Xulanium's) predecessors of the race Torus disguises as and later amnesias themselves into.

I THINK Salisun was supposed to be a fusion of a Cycler and something else organic, but he's also 90% aesthetic.

I've never figured out how to flesh out her species or Ouna herself, but they've got goo for hair and horns. That's coincidentally the only goo-species I've ever made. Huh.

Don't have many details on his species but they were somewhat civilized warrior-cats style and built little huts despite being quadruped.

No details on Mono, they're 100% aesthetic.

These two are the member of the same species and they're small and fluffy and have only one sex. They're also fluffy.

While Bypin is a pure machine, built by "man" and a full robot, I want to highlight them because they're one member of a race of centaur dragon tanks, who live on a planet in the same System as the Ermista, but closer to their hateful sun god that frequently sends down increasingly disturbing bird-angels to destroy all life on its planets (its planets are its children so its like fleas on your child). The race on that planet stays mostly underground until they developed the technology to remove their souls and place them in mechanical bodies they can use to fight back (Remizular is an example of a member of that race who was once organic, but later became tank (I lost their redesign that account deletion comes back to bite me in the ass)).

(Honestly, tank dragon centaurs are really cool FIGHT ME)

OKAY. I CAN'T ADD ANY MORE IMAGES SO THAT'S ALL YOU GET.

There are a few more species that don't have triangular faces and don't have characters in them as like, prey or purely animalistic species. I really need to focus on that side of it more wtf.

[autumnalwalker]

Empty Names - 22 - Leads

Author's Note: In which we get a recap of what Sullivan's been doing behind the scenes, get a glimpse of some of Road's issues, and witness Sullivan once again confidently make a bunch of incorrect inferences (mixed with a few correct ones) about the people around him. I though this was going to be another short chapter like Sullivan's tend to be, not so much. Too much exposition in the first scene perhaps, but with how long it's been and how scattered some information was, a recap felt useful. Will this is shorter than the utter monster of the previous chapter at least. All that said, there are few segments in this chapter where I really like how they came out. Wordcount: 11,191 Content Warnings: Insomnia. Lightly implied past substance abuse. Lightly implied past self-harm. Disassociation (or something akin to it anyway, please correct me if there's a better word). Invasion of privacy.

<-Previous Chapter Masterpost Next Chapter->

“Have you ever heard of orbital kinetic bombardment?”

Not a phrase a younger Sullivan would have expected to hear from a witch while inside a pocket dimension bound to the soul of an alchemist and fashioned to look like a blend of antique mansion and subterranean grotto.  The words taste too much of wires and screens to be spoken of in the same breath as magic.  And yet this is a witch who uses a (two decades outmoded) phone as a spellbook and catalyst, the contract for the pocket dimension was purchased at a (manifestation of an ideal) shopping mall, and the alchemist is currently busying himself with configuring a new (to him anyway) computer to synchronize timings on three thermal cyclers, seven centrifuges, and thirteen shakers and mixers of various kinds.  

At least the witch’s towering doll dresses the part of gothic faux-antique despite its master’s modern garb of blue jeans and a sweater.

Like it or not, the blending of magic and modern (para)tech is the way things are increasingly moving these days.  And accordingly Sullivan, born on a world where the steam engine had not yet been conceived, has adapted in the decades since arriving on this world with all its rapidly-changing wonders.  Adapted well enough to make up for his friend’s chronic technological incompatibilities.  It helps that he has ever had an appetite for novelty.

So, tasting of charged copper and glass fibers though they might be, the words come naturally to the Sullivan of today when he replies “Of course.  It’s when you put a satellite up in orbit and then have it drop something dense down onto the planet so it explodes on impact sheerly from mass and velocity.  Elegantly simple mass destruction.”  Sullivan’s ever-present smirk grows momentarily genuine at a memory.  “Carnette liked to call it ‘casting Meteor.’  Not that she needed a satellite when she could simply summon a rock into the atmosphere from the Oort Cloud.”

The witch - Morgan - adjusts her glasses.  “Huh, wasn’t expecting confirmation on the existence of the Oort Cloud today, but yes, that’s the gist of the concept.  Based on what I’ve been able to reconstruct over the past few days from the safehouse debris someone pulled a similar drop on us.”  She looks over to her arcane doll.  “Stella, if you would.”

The doll looks down at its master, gives a nod of affirmation, and then pale green light spills forth from its glassy eyes.  The light concentrates into a pair of rapidly scanning beams projecting out onto the sole corner of hardwood floor in the pocket dimension’s living room that isn’t occupied by lab equipment or the luxury furniture hastily shoved aside to make room for said equipment.  The beams of light from Stella’s eyes trace shapes in the air and coalesce into a holographic projection of a house about half Sullivan’s height.  Detailed brickwork emerges on the house’s surface and color creeps into the projection until it becomes an undeniably recognizable recreation of the now-destroyed safehouse.

“Leave it to a doll to make a dollhouse on demand,” Sullivan comments.

The projection of the house flickers and is replaced by a life-sized recording of Sullivan getting shot six times and then sent flying by a punch to the face.  Morgan coughs to cover a snicker and the projection flickers back to displaying the miniaturized house.  Stella rotates her wrist clockwise and the house explodes into a cloud of dust, leaving behind the illusion of a debris-filled crater stretching down into the floor.  Stella rotates her wrist counterclockwise and the explosion falls back in on itself until the house is restored.

“Before you ask,” Morgan says, “this is the recording Stella took of my reconstruction.  I’m not going to invoke extratemporal entities and weave psychometry-fed illusions more than I have to just because I want to review my results.”

“And here I was hoping for a show,” Sullivan purrs.

“Oh, we’ll give you one,” Morgan says.

More hand gestures from Stella and the house explodes again, this time in slow motion.

Morgan glances at Sullivan.  “Tell me when you catch it.”

The explosion rewinds.  The house is restored.  The house explodes, even more slowly this time.  Sullivan blinks through filters, sees nothing different, and concentrates harder on simply watching carefully.

The explosion rewinds in slow motion.  The cloud of dust condenses and draws back into un-disintegrated bricks.  Shattered glass melts back together in window panes.  Blasted shingles fall back into place.  Something flickers near the rooftop and Sullivan arches an eyebrow.

The house explodes once more, slower still.  It starts with a tiny patch of shingles dipping inward around a thin dark line and throwing up splinters.  It continues with the windows blowing outward; first the upper flow, then the ground floor.  It climaxes with the very foundations quaking and sending a ripple upward through the walls that converts the brickwork to compacted red powder stretched-out milliseconds before sending it all into the sky.

“Back it up to that dark streak impacting the rooftop,” Sullivan says.

Morgan grins.  “Good eye.”  

The three-dimensional recording rewinds once more, pauses, and zooms in on a glyph-covered grey metal rod hovering above the rooftop.  

“And there’s our culprit,” Morgan says.  “A single tungsten rod, one meter by one inch, inscribed with a standard perception filter enchantment, and accelerated to several times the speed of sound.  And as best as I can tell…”  The projection rewinds further, following the rod upwards until the house below is no longer rendered.  And then higher still until the rod disappears though a perfectly round, perfectly flat, one-sided opaque circle in the air.  “Not quite dropped from orbit, but launched through a downward-facing portal in the sky’s close enough.”

Sullivan lets out a low whistle.  “I’d call it an incredible reconstruction, but only in the sense that I hesitate to credit it.  This level of detail from a few handfuls of dust and a small stack of rubble?  It has to be at least seventy three-percent extrapolated guesswork filling in the blanks.  It simply isn’t done.”

“Nor are precision teleports across multiple astronomical units when even summons across multiple alternate universes would be more manageable” Stella’s hollow monotone counters, “and yet you do not hear us casting doubt on the supposed deeds of your dead wife.”

How dare this oversized plaything?  Sullivan turns away from it in dismissal and locks eyes with its master.

“You.  Are not.  The sorceress Bridgewood,” he says flatly.  “Do not think to compare yourself to her.”

To the witch’s credit, the terror on Morgan’s face scarcely outlasts her flinch and involuntary step backwards.  She recovers with a tilt of her head and adjustment of her glasses to catch the light and hide her eyes.

“So that’s what it takes to wipe that smirk off your face.” she says.  “Stella, you can stand down.”

Sullivan flicks his gaze back towards the doll and finds both it and the projected hologram gone.  He reflexively produces a knife, sidesteps, and turns to find the construct standing behind where he’d just been, eyes gone dark and full of stars.  Stella’s eyes fade back to glassy imitations of a human’s and it returns to its master’s side.

“But really, no disrespect here,” Morgan continues.  “I’ll admit the reconstruction has some extrapolative infill, but not as much as you seem to be imagining.  I’m sure the sorceress Bridgewood could have done better from less in half the time, but I think you’ll find that compared to anyone else, I am very good at what I do.”

Sullivan allows the spike of anger to ebb.  Really, what else did he expect from a witch calling herself Morgan?  Pretentious pretenders the lot of them.  Nothing he doesn’t know how to handle.  Nothing that should be able to get under his skin.

“Very well, but as impressive as this is, it still doesn't tell us anything we didn’t already know about who tried to kill Lachlan.  We already knew whoever it is has a large budget, access to high-end paratech, and is good with teleports.”

“But it wasn’t a teleport, it was a portal.  Portals can be passed back through.”

“If you’re implying your reconstruction was able to see back through…”

Morgan scoffs.  “Oh, I wish.  But if we could bait whoever it is to take a second shot at us, well, I know what to look for this time to grab and hold open and you’re a teleporting immortal bastard with a knife fetish.  I figure you can do the math on that one.”  

“An utterly unhinged plan.  I love it.  Nonetheless,” Sullivan adds while producing a manilla envelope from a pocket too small to have possibly held it, “it does pay to have some inkling of whose home one is about to invite oneself into.”

“If you already figured out who it was you could have led with that, you know,” Morgan admonishes while taking the envelope.

“Alas, these are only preliminary findings to narrow down the list of suspects.  Occupied though I’ve been these past few days with procuring this hideaway, forging you an alibi, and assisting my friend with unrelated cases, I have managed to put out some feelers to various sources of mine.  Enclosed, you’ll find photos and specifications of combat robot models and power armor suits, both publicly announced and otherwise, from the major paratech off-world importers and local manufacturers.”

Morgan flips through the contents of the envelope, eyebrow occasionally arching at tech specs and eyelids intermittently squinting at image details, but without any telltale glimmer of recognition.

“I’ll need to take a more in-depth look later,” she says, “but at a glance, none of this looks like what I saw in Lachlan’s memories.  Could this have been a government operation?”

“I have enough contacts in that field that I would have heard by now if something relevant were afoot, and even if it were, corporate contracting is the name of the game for weapons development, Backstage or not.”

“And no use running these by Lachlan to verify with that NDA geass on him.”

“Alas no indeed.  At best it would only irritate him and at worse it would signal our quarry that he’s still alive.  Better to maintain his good graces with reparations of new equipment and material for now should we require his cooperation later.”

The silence of consideration falls and catches on the whir and hum of lab equipment.  On the other side of the room, Lachlan busies himself with recreating formulae lost with his previous home while doing his best to ignore the stalled conversation.  Morgan adjusts her glasses and takes another look at a blurred photo of a half-assembled robot that was obviously taken illicitly.  Sullivan ponders how much more he would have had time to find by now if he’d left more of the information support for other jobs to Lacuna like he hired her to do.  Stella abruptly turns and begins walking away toward a sliding glass door.

“I am relocating this conversation to more comfortable environs,” the doll intones.

Sullivan shoots Morgan an inquiring look who meets with a shrug indicating that this is normal behavior before following the curiously headstrong construct outside.  

Or rather, what passes for outside in this diminutive pocket dimension, for beyond the sliding glass door and its surrounding facade of wooden paneling is a stone cavern with no exit.  A smooth-carved patio stretches to the edge of a self-sustaining aquaponics system cleverly disguised to look as if the fish-filled pools surrounded by rings of edible plants were natural formations within the rock.  The illusion is only slightly spoiled by the reflective strips lining the winding paths between the pools that catch the glow of the suspended orb lamps currently dimmed for their night cycle and the bioluminescent crustaceans that crawl the dark ceiling like false stars.

Stella takes a seat at a tall round bar table at the edge of the nearest pool and Sullivan and Morgan join it.  No, join her, Sullivan reminds himself begrudgingly.  Despite the stereotypically flat affect, he’s yet to find evidence contradicting Morgan’s claim of her doll’s personhood.  Curious given the notorious difficulty of constructs - be they digital or arcane - maintaining sapience while on the anchor world where magic is weakened and reality’s rules are stricter.  Could there be a ghost haunting that enchanted porcelain shell?  Or perhaps a familiar bond extending the mage’s soul into another vessel in a novel manner?  

He rubs the blue metal of his wedding band.  Carnette would love to take these two apart and see how they work if she were here.

“Now then,” Stella says, punctuating the resumption of discussion with a rolling clack of segmented fingers on ceramic tabletop.  “Let us review what we already know.  Consort of the sorceress Bridgewood, if you have left anything out, now would be the time to amend that gap.  We shall do the same.”

“Go on then,” Sullivan says.  “If I hear you’ve missed anything relevant, I’ll let you know.”

Stell nods in acknowledgement and begins.

“Roughly one year ago, Lachlan Whelan, alchemist and occupant of the planar lighthouse near the so-called Northwest Passage Crossover Point, was approached by unknown men wearing suits and sunglasses who coerced him into signing a geass-enforced contract allowing them to install an unknown paratech device in his lighthouse and stay silent about it.  In exchange, he received compensation in the form of money, alchemical supplies, and delivery services.  He made a point of not observing the deliveries, either in method or in the identity of any potential courier.  Relevantly, the Northwest Passage Crossover Point is notorious in certain circles as being a smuggling route for off-world contraband.  Approximately three months ago, the individual known as Road returned to this anchor world after an extended absence.  You mentioned they were following the trail of a stolen and smuggled artifact of some sort, yes?”

“That’s right,” Sullivan confirms.  “A device originating from Dorbreith allegedly capable of binding and controlling lesser deiform entities.  Small gods, if you prefer.  My friend lost the trail after getting here when the entire smuggling ring the artifact was getting trafficked through was wiped out overnight by an unknown third party who absconded with most of the contraband, including the artifact.  Whoever it was, they were thorough enough in scrubbing their tracks that Crossherd’s Department of Forensic Necromancy couldn’t even question the victims’ ghosts or divine anything from the smugglers’ ashes.”

“And that’s when Road recruited you and my niece,” Morgan says.

“Starting up their own little anchor world version of an adventurers’ guild is technically a separate project,” Sullivan corrects her.  “‘Tis something my friend was planning on doing eventually anyway.  Aside from a lucky coincidence with the first job, everything else Lacuna and the other two recruits have worked on has been unrelated.  As far as they know, I’m simply investigating where the dead dragon came from.  They haven’t been informed of the larger potential conspiracy, or that I’m currently working with you.”

“And I’d prefer it stay that way.  I should be the one to tell her that I’m in the know.  How long has she been Backstage?”

“Since just before she started transitioning.  Someone broke Masquerade and posted a summoning ritual for a feral demon with a flawed containment circle on mundane forums claiming it could give the ritual caster a new body.  You can thank my friend if you ever meet them for keeping her from getting eaten.  And for introducing her to her doctor in Crossherd.  Autogenesis has been rough on her, but you and I both know how effective Backstage medication and treatments can be.”

Sullivan examines the witch across from him as he talks about her niece.  The suppressed gasp.  The wide eyes.  The anxious neck rub.  Shock, yes, but guilt too.  Guilt that she wasn’t there for the one she cares about.  Guilt that she didn’t see what was wrong in time to help.  It’s an emotion Sullivan knows well, and well knows how to make into an asset.

“And no,” he continues, “she’s not doing any dangerous fieldwork you need to distract yourself with worry over.  We simply hired her to manage our website and communications equipment.  The most danger she’ll ever be in is burning herself on the office coffee machine trying to make hot chocolate.  ”

“And is she -”

“A mage?  Sadly no.  I believe she tried to take up witchcraft shortly after arriving Backstage, but had no potential for it.  She is a half-decent enchanter though and I’ve been providing her with the resources to practice that since hiring her.”

“I see.  Thank you.  For watching out for her,”  Morgan says.  She looks through Sullivan more than at him when she says it and he can practically hear the unspoken “where I failed to” in her voice.  As he intended.

“My pleasure,” he lilts.

“Returning to the matter at hand,” Stella says, “two months ago, the device in Lachlan’s lighthouse emitted a ‘pulse’ of unknown nature that corresponded with the simultaneous entry into the Northwest Passage Crossover Point of a Culescun living ship and a kaiju-class dragon of indeterminate origin, most likely Dorbreith or Mahta.  Neither the ship nor the dragon were equipped for inter-world travel, and thus the matter of the ship and the dragon’s head attempted to occupy the same space at the same time, killing the dragon instantly and wounding the living ship in the fusion.  A parasitic swarm then left the dragon’s corpse and devoured the majority of the living ship’s crew in the process of making it their new host.  Lachlan witnessed this from his lighthouse, had a moment of conscience and called upon Road to make a rescue attempt of any possible survivors.  

“After a day and a half of delays due to a severe storm and attempts to secure a suitable transport vessel, you and your team arrived on the scene with the assistance of one Captain Cabetha, a former smuggler from a non-anchor-world iteration of Earth, and rescued the sole surviving crewmember of the Culescun ship, along with one hundred twenty-eight passengers in stasis cocoons.  You did not make contact with Lachlan during the rescue operation.  

“That night, after all other parties had vacated the area and the dragon corpse had fully sunk beneath the surface of the water, pulling the Culescun ship down with it, you received a signal from a sensor attached to the perception filter ward around Lachlan’s lighthouse indicating twenty-three individuals sapient enough to interact with the ward cross its boundary.  Lachlan’s memory of the event perceived these entities as combat robots.  Three minutes later the lighthouse Lachlan vacated the premises via self-collapsing portal and destroyed the lighthouse behind him.  One minute later the intruding entities left the bounds of the perception filter ward and left via either teleportation or portal in a manner that left too little trace to follow to a point of origin.  One minute after that, you arrived on the scene and read the remnants of Lachlan’s escape portal, setting you on a chase that would last you the next month, due to, as you put it, ‘various distractions.’  These distractions included spending the next several days handing over the shipwrecked Culescuns to governmental organizations within Crossherd for return to their homeworld.  Is all of this accurate?”

“Yes,” Sullivan says, “except we also brought in an exiled flesh-shaper to un-cocoon everyone after the rescue before we handed them over for repatriation.”

“There’s an exiled Culescun flesh-shaper on this world?” Morgan exclaims.

“Oh yes, real standup guy.  Carnette, my friend, and I helped xem out after xe got in trouble for unauthorized shaping to save the lives of some cross-world travellers.  And we’ve stayed on good terms since.”

“Huh, could have used someone like that thirty years ago,” Morgan says.  “Was Lacuna able to talk to xem?”

“Oh the two of them got on marvelously.  Why she still looked the same the next day is beyond me.  Void knows I would have killed for the opportunity back when I was in her position.”

“I… I can think of a few reasons,” Morgan says.  “But I’m getting us off-topic again.  You were saying about the passengers?”

“During the rescue, I also retrieved most of the ship’s cargo, including the passengers’ belongings and one particular set of items of interest that I have not yet informed anyone other than my friend and the flesh-shaper about.  I lightly questioned all of the passengers after we woke them up from stasis and then performed some more enhanced interview techniques on the most suspicious of them in addition to the surviving crewmember and one of the deceased crewmembers, erasing their memories afterwards for, shall we say, humane reasons.  I haven’t told anyone else that part either, but given how readily you did what you had to with forcing yourself into Lachlan’s mind, I trust that you understand doing what needs done.”  Sullivan cocks his head and shows more teeth with his smile.  “Even if your dear niece wouldn’t.”

Morgan stares him down with comment.

“Anywhat,” Sullivan continues, “the passengers were simply wrong place wrong time, and the crew I got to talk too were too low level grunts to be included in anything conspiratorial, but the living one did recognize the items none of the passengers claimed.  They hadn’t been on the cargo manifest either and when he’d asked about them he was simply told to stop asking questions.”

“Another smuggling connection then?” Morgan posits.

“If it was, it wasn’t one that anyone on that ship expected to be leaving Culescu.  I showed our flesh-shaper the items in question afterward and xe identified them as dead and damaged equipment for linking together minds for gestalts or duplication.  Apparently that’s rare and valuable technology that even most people on Culescu know as little more than a rumor.  Needless to say, I left that part out of our report to the authorities in Crossherd and the equipment is sitting in a stasis vault in Bridgewood Manor to keep it from rotting any further.”

“Cutting edge flesh-shaped tech from an isolationist world with a strict policy against exports,” Morgan muses.  “You don’t think that could have been the point of this whole shipwreck mess, do you?  In those days where you dealing with the survivors, I was getting word from a merfolk community I have some connection with that a huge foreign biomass and a large number of invasive lamprey-like creatures had just gotten dumped into the ocean.  I spent weeks cleaning up that mess.  At first I figured that it was just some self-taught mage who had colossally screwed up a summoning, but when officials from Crossherd showed up demanding that I hand over any off-world biological material instead of destroying it like standard ecological contamination procedure it started to sink in just how weird the situation was.”

“And that’s when you started looking into Lachlan?”  Sullivan asks.

“Not Lachlan specifically, and for a good while there environmental and Masquerade protection took priority, weird government interference or no.  And it wasn’t like anyone was answering any of the questions I was asking.  Of course, now that I know it was a decaying Culescun ship that I was trying to keep benthic scavengers from mistaking for a whalefall and getting sick on, that makes sense.  Even if they weren’t directly involved, the powers that be in Crossherd get real nervous about anything related to Culescu.  Which explains why no one ever mentioned you and your team to me.”

“And the big burned out lighthouse nearby wasn’t an obvious clue to ask about?” Sullivan prods.

“As she said,” Stella replies, “the priority was on cleanup.  We didn’t get the chance to look into that until weeks after the fact.”

“And by that point the trail had long gone cold until you leaked his location to see who would show up looking for him,” Morgan adds. “And we all know how that turned out.”

“Yes,” Sullivan agrees.  “You two were watched and followed by means we still haven’t determined, we got Lachlan to partially violate his nondisclosure contract, and then someone opened a portal in the upper atmosphere and shot a magic equivalent of a railgun at us through it.  Or an actual railgun for all we know.  Then I did some research to give you that lovely envelope full of robots, while you played with some dirt to make an informative but not particularly revelatory presentation.  And now we’re recapping.  Did that all give you any new theories?”

“If you’re right that it’s not a government job, and the machines Lachlan saw don’t match anything any of the big paratech companies have, could it be a smaller operation?”  Morgan asks.  “Someone trying to carve themself a slice out of a competitive field by gathering resources that no one can legally report as missing and laying the groundwork for making a big entrance once they have a product ready.  Or even just a lone wolf actor playing mad scientist with experimental paratech.”

“The possibility had crossed my mind,” Sullivan admits, “but I had dismissed it.  Too much of this reeks of tight organization well-supplied with resources.”

“Does it really?” Morgan argues.  “One powerful enough mage and one exceptionally skilled paratech engineer could theoretically do this all on a budget while keeping up a surface level appearance of being something more.  Heck, the two could even be the same person!”

“Let’s say I’m willing to entertain the idea,” Sullivan croons.  “Convince me.”

“What do we really know about whoever is behind this?”  Morgan asks and then answers.  “While I’m not personally familiar with them, I know of at least four different spells that can kill people thoroughly enough that it doesn’t leave a ghost behind and messes up other methods of scrying past events in a locale.  A geass-enforced contract is easy enough to obtain for anyone who knows how to contact the fae or infernal entities and is good at negotiating.  Intimidating men in suits and sunglasses are a dime a dozen, and that’s assuming whoever’s behind all this didn’t just go buy a suit off the rack and deliver the contract and device to Lachlan themselves.”

“And the pulse device?  The robots?  The orbital kinetic bombardment?”

“Paratech’s not my field, but as I understand it, it’s not that hard to get individual parts if you know where to look.  The robots might be made from scratch in a garage or they might be decommissioned models that were refurbished and modified.  The number of them is a bit high, sure, but there are plenty of mages out there with extended lifespans and fortunes built up over a century or two.  Give me another fifty years and I’ll be one of them.  And while our hypothetical lone actor would have to be very good with portals, it’s not an unheard of level of skill, and accelerating an object to make it go fast enough to explode on impact is dead simple, just stupidly dangerous to try unassisted.”

“And everything you just said could also be true of a small arm of a larger organization that wants to maintain plausible deniability if they get caught,” Sullivan points out.

“I believe that is the point,” Stella says.  “If corporate security measures against espionage are proving too much of a barrier for you to find leads, then investigate the flow of component parts through smaller resource channels.  Of course,” she adds, “I am sure so obvious a methodology has already occurred to you.”

The doll’s perpetual monotone does little to hide the sarcasm, and the reaction on her witch’s face does even less.  Such an interestingly bold little familiar.  Or not so little given that she’s the only one here who’s feet reach the ground while seated around this bar table.  A reflection of its master’s will, surely.  What a shame that the techie’s branch of the family tree didn’t inherit any of her aunt’s spine.

“That still leaves us with the question of motive,” Sullivan says, sidestepping the barb while neither denying the soundness of the advice nor admitting that he’d overlooked it.

“We can figure that out later,” Morgan says, “but if we assume that both of the incidents that we know of were specifically targeted rather than coincidental, I can think of some scary combinations you could get up to with a god binder and a mind linker.”

*******

Sullivan’s friend is already waiting for him in the baroque parlour (as opposed to the neoclassical parlour or the nacreous parlour) when he makes his return to Bridgewood Manor that night.  As is Ashan.  The conversation passes by in a blur for Sullivan.  The news that his friend spent most of the past twenty-four hours in a warped domain of one of the eldritch drowns out whatever was said before and distracts from whatever is said after.

The recounting of Eris snapping herself out of a near autogenesis monster transformation so that she can relive childhood memories and fight her ex-girlfriend is far less important than scrutinizing his friend for signs of persona decay.  The tale of Ashan besting a fae liege’s champion in a duel barely registers through concern over what an entity whose very presence erodes rationality and sense of self might do to someone with his friend’s condition.  When the plan of transporting dangerous artifacts through smuggling routes as bait is floated, it is met with the barest acknowledgment of logistic viability, as he is too busy sorting out which of the subtle tells of exhaustion his friend is so good at hiding are due to mere sleep deprivation and which are from something more metaphysical.  The realization that his friend has told Ashan and the others about the wider conspiratorial scope of his investigations is nearly enough to fully snap his attention back to the ongoing conversation, but he is too caught up in the thought that suddenly bringing everyone fully into the fold might be a symptom of decline to even been properly irritated at not being consulted beforehand.  His own recounting of his most recent meeting with Morgan and plans discussed therein is uncharacteristically terse, unembellished, and coated in a veneer of impatience for the interloping young wizard to leave so he and his friend can talk in private, but he at least retains the presence of mind to omit the witch’s name and relation to Lacuna.

Finally, Sullivan resorts to putting on a mask crafted in the image of his genuine concern for his friend.

“Ashan, why don’t you head to bed?” Sullivan suggests.  “Speaking from experience, there aren’t many who can cross the Count of Curses and Dust and live to tell the tale, so I’d say you’ve earned a good night’s sleep.  I’ll send one of the manor staff up with something for that aging effect on your hand.”

“Thank you,” Ashan says, “but I am still wakeful enough to continue the conversation for a time yet.  This is far from the hardest a mission has pushed my capabilities.”

Sullivan constructs an endeared smile that anyone who didn’t know him would mistake for genuine.

“Good to hear.  Pushing yourself to your limit all the time without rest only wears you down.  But I think we’re just about done here anyway.  Any further planning can wait until muscles and the techie are around to give their two cents.”

“You make a fair point.  Very well then.  Road, Bridgewood, I bid the both of you a good night.”  After standing up from a gilded chair and executing a shallow bow punctuating both addresses, Ashan turns and glides down the dark hallways of Bridgewood Manor in the direction of a guest bedroom that is rapidly becoming a permanent dwelling.

Sullivan’s body no longer needs to breathe and hasn’t been physically capable of fatigue in years, but he unclenches his jaw and sighs in relief all the same at the young wizard’s departure.  A warm chuckle from the other end of the white tufted settee he’s been perched on the arm of draws his gaze back to his friend and a facial expression that’s heralded more headaches and fond memories than he can count.

“What?” he asks.

“You like him,” his friend observes.

“I can’t imagine what could have given you that impression.”

“That’s the second time you’ve told him to go to bed -”

“He’s a valuable asset whose health needs maintained.”

“- in a bed, in a room, in your home, which you didn’t kick him out of when the office opened like you said you would -”

“I’ve been too busy to get around to it.”

“- and you said it in a tone I’ve never heard you use with anyone but me and Carnette.”

Void Without.

“I just wanted him out of the way so we could talk in private,” Sullivan insists while sliding from armrest to seat.  “He doesn’t need to hear me asking how you’re holding together after an encounter with one of the eldritch.”

“Thanks for the concern, but I’m fine.  Really.”

“Even -”

“Even with my… being the way that I am, yes.  Just because we decided it’s best that I don’t consciously acknowledge it too much, that doesn’t mean I don’t take steps to manage it, and it turns out general safeguards against eldritch influence are good for general stability.”  Sullivan’s friend forces a laugh that would sound natural and unexhausted to any other listener.  “Honestly, I think I might try burning the silverkey incense more often.  That was the most… present… I’ve felt in a long while.”

“I’ll be sure to make sure you have a steady supply,” Sullivan says and makes a mental note to look into side effects of regular usage.  “But I must say, you caught me off guard when you informed me that you filled the kids in on everything.  I thought you were going to wait until we had something more concrete and they’d had more time to get used to working together.”

His friend affects a nonchalant shrug.  “I’d call people exploding a house with you in it for investigating pretty concrete, and the others have more than proven themselves by now.  Especially after… today… Or is it yesterday by now?” They drift off for a moment, voice dreamy before snapping back to the here and now.  “You know what I mean.  And besides, I told Eris about it before we dealt with the eldritch.”

“You might be right, but that’s not what you were thinking at the time, was it?”

“I…”

Sullivan slides closer on the sofa and gently puts a hand on his friend’s shoulder.  It’s gotten so much easier to do that since they acquired that symbiote jacket of theirs.

“I’m not mad,” he whispers, “and I’m not judging.  I could never be either, not towards you.  I’m only trying to figure out if I’m worrying too much right now.”

“You always worry too much about me.”

“Someone has to if you’re going to be the one to worry about everyone else in the world.”

“Right…  Anyway, Eris asked what you’ve been working on for the past two months because somehow she didn’t even know you were looking into what caused the dragon shipwreck.  I could have sworn we’d told everyone that right after opening the office and you bowed out of joining the rest of us on the haunted house mission that evening.”

“She’d stepped out of the room when I announced it,” Sullivan says.  “I figured at least one of you would fill her in.”

“Oh… I guess that must have slipped my mind too.  So, when she asked earlier today… no yesterday… wait, it’d be the day before by now…  What… day… is it?  It’s been a long one…”

“When Eris asked…” Sullivan softly prompts.

“Right!  When Eris couldn’t remember what I thought for sure I told her already, or at least told Ashan and Lacuna...  told someone anyway…  I… had a moment…”

“A moment?” Sullivan asks once it becomes apparent his friend isn’t picking the trailed thought back up on their own.

“I had a moment where I couldn’t remember at all what I’d said to who, so it all… came out at once.”  Their next pause is one of intensifying focus rather than the loss of it.  “That’s bad, isn’t it?”

“No, it's not bad,” Sullivan lies.  “You’ve just had a long few days, like you said.  That’s normal when people get tired.”

“But at least I remembered not to tell them about Morgan and Stella yet,” his friend says like a child trying to salvage a botched chore.  “When are we going to tell them?  With everyone involved now there’s not much point in keeping it secret, and Lacuna deserves to know she has a relative Backstage.”

“Morgan said she wanted to tell Lacuna herself, so you don’t need to worry about that right now.  I’ll handle the arrangements for their reunion when the time comes.”

“And I’m sure you’ll delay it until you can find the most dramatic possible moment,” his friend jokes.

“Will I now?”

“It’s what you do.  The one thing you like better than secrets and lies is a big reveal.”

“Or maybe I’ll just arrange things so that a dramatic reveal comes faster than you expect now that you’re onto me.”

“But now I’m going to expect that and you know I’ll expect that so you’ll delay but I’ll know that you’ll know that so you’ll accelerate, but you’ll know that I know that you know that I…”

“I know you’re tired.”

“I might be letting myself feel it a little without anyone else around.”

“Well, there’s nothing pressing tonight to keep you from getting some sleep.”

“Nothing but the usual.”

“The dreams?”

“And everything else that always needs done.  The dreams have been manageable.”

“Manageable with or without amnestics?”

“Without.  I’ve only needed them the one time since getting back to this anchor world.  And it was as low a dose as will still do anything, I promise.  Just enough to take the edge off after waking up in the middle of the night.”

“But you have been sleeping, right?”

Sullivan’s friend smiles a little too broadly.

“I’ve been getting a whole eight hours,” they claim.

Sullivan gives his friend a look practiced since their shared childhood.

“Per week,” his friend amends.

“When was the last time?”

“I took a nap after our call a few days ago to get some rest.  I… don’t think I actually fell asleep though.”

Sullivan closes his eyes, rubs his temples, and takes a deep breath as only one without lungs could manage.

“That’s it,” he says, “tonight you are getting a full night’s sleep for once in your life.  Where works best for you these days?”

His friend starts to protest but bites it off in response to another look from Sullivan.

“The aquatic drawing room.  The light and water help.”

“Aquatic drawing room it is,” Sullivan says as he rises to his feet and extends a hand.

His friend takes his hand and three tries to get up from the sofa.  Three wobbly steps later, they are leaning on his shoulder for support.  Now that the inhuman exhaustion has been acknowledged and allowed to be felt, it can now longer be denied or hidden.

“It’s not fair, you know,” his friend rambles while the two of them shamble down Bridgewood Manor’s labyrinthine hallways in a bubble of blue-white light from enchanted torches that light as they approach and extinguish as they pass by.  “Not fair that you don’t have to sleep when I still do.”

“It’s not so bad,” Sullivan says.  “It means that you’re still human enough for it.  And it means you can take a break every now and then.”

“You say that like you miss it.”

“Every now and then.”  All the time.  Human minds aren’t made for years of continuous uninterrupted consciousness.  “At least you don’t need as much as most people.  Just more than you’ve been getting.”

“You sure?  I think it’s like… the other thing.  I don’t feel tired if I don’t think about it, and there’s so much more I could be doing if I don’t.  So many more people I can help.  Do help?  Did help?  Have helped?  Would help?  Should help?  Help?  Help… help…”

Sullivan touches a finger to his friend’s lip to stop any more repetition of the syllable that’s lost its meaning.

“Letting yourself feel it will help with the other thing.  Real people get tired and sleep.”

“But you don’t sleep and you’re real.  You are real, aren��t you?”  Worry creeps into his friend’s tone.

“I’m real,” Sullivan reassures them, “but I’m not people, I’m a monster.”

His friend calms and chuckles.  “Heroes are supposed to slay monsters, you know?”  They joke with a poke to where Sullivan’s ribs should be.

“Not the ones they tame and take into battle with them,” he says.

The silence of two that have had a lifetime to say everything and are taking a breather before another round of saying it all again.

The seashell-and-wave-embossed doors to the aquatic drawing room are open when they arrive.  The only closed rooms in Bridgewood Manor are those currently occupied, those intentionally put out of mind, and those Sullivan is yet to figure out how to open.  Turning from the hallway to cross the threshold, footfalls morph from muffled paps on soft carpet, to sharp clacks on hard tile, to quiet whistles of softer sand.  The furniture here is carved from driftwood, salvaged from shipwrecks, hewn from abyssal vents.  Legs and armrests and backs are adorned with pearls, crusted with barnacles, inlaid with ichthyic fossils.  Upholstery is embroidered with sea beasts, sunken cities, deep-dwelling gods.  The seafloor stretches out in all directions, the floor-to-ceiling mural’s illusion played into rather than broken by the fractured stone archway over the door to the hall.  The stone arch once held a portal between worlds until it caused its builders’ civilization to drown beneath the waves.  Another one of Carnette’s decorative jokes to remind Sullivan of her absence.

All of it is awash in dancing caustic patterns of light from glowing corals reflected and refracted through the water suspended above.  The “surface” is just out of Sullivan’s reach if he stretches (as Carnette so enjoyed teasing him) and reaches a “depth” twice again that length before hitting the ceiling.  A single touch is all it would take to draw one off the floor and into the water above.  With Carnette gone, the water is no longer breathable, the marine simulacra float inanimate in the corners near the ceiling, and the surface occasionally ripples and drops a single salty tear to the sand and furniture below.  At least the crafting of the sand to never cling unwantedly remains effective.

“Couch or floor?” Sullivan asks his friend.

“Floor,” they say after a delayed processing of the question.

Sullivan helps his friend to a spot free from the ceiling’s tears and kneels down to help them from his shoulder to the floor.  He shifts to sitting on the floor leaning against the illusion-painted wall, one leg outstretched while the other makes an arch to rest arm on knee.  He looks down at his friend and asks “Need any help getting to sleep?”

His friend makes a small noise of affirmation.

“Once upon a time…” Sullivan begins.  He gets no further when he notices his friend make an expression he hesitates to place.  “What?”

“My first night back, you mentioned you had… something else that could help?  Could we… try that instead?”

Sullivan reminds himself that he doesn’t have a heart to break.  It mostly works.

“Of course,” he whispers.  Of all the off-hand comments for his friend’s inconstant memory to keep…

Sullivan produces a sewing needle pinched between thumb and forefinger.  It is gold with a core of bone and a tip of cold iron.  It is a gift fit for a princess.  It is the only thing he’s had longer than his friend.  He hasn’t held or looked at it since right after Carnette made him the way he is now.

Sullivan closes his lips around the tip of the needle.  He feels his tongue change inside his mouth.  He licks the needle to coat it with his venom.  That was the last change to what is left of his body that Carnette made, and one of the only such changes that were his idea.  This is the first time he’s been able to use it for its intended purpose.

Sullivan lets the tip of the needle cut his lip on the way out.  He can no longer bleed and the cut closes as fast as it opens.  Just as well.  The needle hasn’t tasted his blood since he met his friend, and for it to do so now would feel too much like an ending.  For the first time he wonders if he should have asked Carnette to let him keep his scars when she took them along with his wrinkles and grey hairs.

“This will let you sleep,” he says as light plays across the needle, “It will be deep and dreamless.  No getting trapped unable to wake up like with other sleep aids.  One prick on the finger and you’ll fall right under.”  

His friend stares at the needle.

“Just like the fairytale,” Sullivan adds with a smile that no one else has seen.  He had no reason for such soft sorrow with Carnette.

His friend nods.

“Would you like to do it, or me?” Sullivan asks.

His friend reaches out and takes the needle.

“Hold me?” they ask after a moment’s hesitation.

Sullivan moves to wrap his arms around his friend from behind and rests his head in the curve between shoulder and neck.

“Always,” he whispers.

His friend moves the tip of the needle held in one hand in the direction of the other.  Stops.  Tries again.  Shakes.  Tries again.  Freezes.  Looks down at their hands.

“What do my hands look like?” his friend whispers.  “Are my hands real?  Where are my hands?  How can I prick my finger if my hands aren’t real?”

Sullivan reminds himself that he doesn’t have a heart to break.  It would surely be pounding from fear otherwise.

“Shhh…shhh… It’s alright….  It’s alright, don’t overthink it,” he whispers back.  “Here, let me take care of it.”

“How can you tell where to hold me?”

“How could I not?  We’ve been together forever.  I know the shape of you without having to think about it.”

“What do I look like?”

“Like my best friend who is very tired but will feel much better after a good night’s sleep.  Now, are you ready?”

His friend nods.  “Stay with me?”

“Always.”

Sullivan reminds himself that he doesn’t have a heart to break.  It almost helps.

*******

The door to the office makes no sound as Sullivan slips inside.  Doors usually don’t make sounds when nobody touches them, so that is normal enough.  That which is beneath his skin ceases its writhing, space ceases its warping, and Sullivan takes a look around the darkened ground floor of the converted bed and breakfast.  

For a moment, he allows himself to see the place as the coffeehouse it was even before that.  The building and its family business were nearly as old as Carnette (relatively speaking) and she’d been a regular for over a century and a half.  Sullivan had been standing right… here, yes, here, behind where the counter used to be, when he first laid eyes on her in person.  He’d been pretending not to watch the door when she strode in, clad in a blue dress, broad red hat over curly red hair, and glasses with thick yellow lenses that hid the true color of her eyes.  He’d started working there a week before, with meticulously applied hair dye and makeup so that he could pass for the young college student he claimed to be.  She complimented him on getting her ludicrously specific order right on the first try and it was the foot in the door he’d hoped it would be for friendly conversation.  

The third time they met he felt confident enough to put his own special twist on the order to surprise her: A tasteless, odorless powder mixed in with the spread on her bagel and a drop of equally difficult to detect liquid in her drink.  Two substances that were harmless on their own but when broken down by stomach acid and mixed together would create a poison capable of negating a mage’s powers.  He’d followed her outside afterward under the pretense of being smitten with her and then attempted to stab her to death with an enchanted dagger out in the open on the sidewalk.

That particular job hadn’t even been about the money, he’d just wanted to see if he could kill the infamous sorceress Bridgewood and when he found out the one place she predictably frequented was a mundane coffeehouse with no Backstage connections where she’d have to risk breaking the Masquerade in order to use her powers, he had been arrogant enough to believe he could pull it off.  The poison had been less effective than anticipated, she’d been more subtle with her magic than her reputation suggested, and five minutes later he was half a continent away, lying in a puddle of his own blood, and holding a handwritten contracted written in that same liquid to kill whomever it was that hired him to assassinate her for triple their original pay offer.  She’d found the sheer audacity of the whole thing wonderfully entertaining and told him that if she’d be anyone else his plan would have worked. 

Thus began a courtship of increasingly elaborate and outlandish assassination attempts inevitably met by ever more novel methods of leaving him just barely alive.  

Sullivan opens his eyes that he hadn’t realized he’d closed.  Losing himself in fond reminiscence is the closest he gets to dreaming these days, but he reminds himself that he doesn’t have time for such indulgences right now.  It is hard though not to wonder if Carnette would have approved of what he’s done with the place.  If its last owner hadn’t changed his family business, would she still be here?  Or did she only refrain from spending a portion of her fortune to keep the coffeehouse as it was because she knew she didn’t have long for this world?  No way to know without asking her, and that day won’t be coming anytime soon.

But enough of that, he has investments to check up on before returning to his slumbering friend.

And speaking of slumbering friends, from where he’s standing he can spy Lacuna and Eris together on the living room couch, sharing a blanket and lit by the soft glow of a DVD logo bouncing around a black television screen.  Sullivan soundlessly walks over to get a better look at the intertwined pair and softly chuckles at the sight of the nearby open DVD case for some romantic comedy schlock.  Not the kind of sleeping together he’d been betting on the two of them getting up to, but perhaps it’s a step in that direction.

Thus amused, Sullivan turns his attention away from his sleeping employees and blinks through his filters.  The third most expensive part of the office’s renovations - behind only the pocket dimension basement and the paratech laboratory - was enchanting the entire property to record a heatmap of movements of anyone that enters that only he can see.  Floating threads and blotches of color appear for him throughout the office, varying in thickness and intensity with recency and repetition.  Each color corresponds to a different individual.  At a glance Sullivan can tell that most of the traffic on this floor goes directly from the front door to the basement and back out again, but Lacuna’s pink-flecked-black trail leads to the bedrooms upstairs more often than it leads outside and the pearl-white representing Ashan and the sea-teal leading away from Eris’s slumbering form have both spent quite some time lingering together in the kitchen.

Eris’s color surprises him.  He would have expected it to be closer to the crimson of  the other monster hunter currently residing upstairs.  The two recent sets of green lines also leading upstairs are curiously similar enough to one another that he almost wishes he’d paid more attention to Ashan’s recounting of his most recent adventure.  

There are no color trails representing Sullivan’s friend, but that’s to be expected.  Even if he had been holding out a vain hope for group interaction to coax out at least a faint proof of existence.

Downstairs, the hallway is a tangle of black, white, and teal that almost drowns out the faint traces of visiting clients.  The autodoc suite looks to have barely been touched, save for what looks to have been an extended stay of teal and black about a month ago.  The gymnasium’s sparring ring is covered in an unexpected swirl of teal and white that leaves Sullivan with questions on how such matches could possibly be going when only one of the participants is a mage.  Could it merely be practice for Ashan to keep physically fit without relying on magic?  More likely they’ve both simply been taking turns going up against Sullivan’s friend.

The laboratory and breakroom are so covered in floating black lines and blotches that Sullivan finds himself forced to clear his visual filters to make out the rooms themselves.  It seems that his earlier jokes about Lacuna playing mad scientist down here were more on target than he’d anticipated at the time, judging by how the heatmap is indicating she’s been effectively living in this laboratory for the past two months.

He struts over to the main computer terminal to take a look at what exactly she’s been up to down here.  He’d planned to make use of a hidden admin account he’d set up before handing everything over to her, but now it seems she hasn’t even bothered to password protect her login.  Sullivan tuts to himself at the shockingly naïve lack of security as he minimizes the open windows regarding simulation progress and test chamber results.  The juicy personal project details can wait until after he’s assessed how well she’s been doing the job he hired her for.

Sullivan goes through Lacuna’s bookmarks, tabs, email, and other messages to get an idea of her process of finding potential “missions” with which to keep his friend occupied.  Her divergence from the list of sites and forums he handed her on the first day to regularly check shows a promising modicum of initiative, although she could stand to be doing more on the supplemental detail gathering front.  If she’s going to be supporting his friend, then it's not enough for her to simply find people for them to help and situations for them to resolve; she needs to be doing research to know everything there is to know about whatever creatures or magical phenomena are involved or even tangentially related to the situation.

The fact that Lacuna apparently never went through the back issues of a certain Backstage newspaper masquerading as a mundane tabloid is particularly disappointing to Sullivan.  It was one of the original information sources he told her to familiarize herself with, and if she’d done so properly she would have seen that her aunt used to write articles for it.  Although in retrospect, perhaps that’s for the best.  Even if the whole team has been brought up to speed on Sullivan’s investigation, for the moment Lacuna’s likely to recognize her place as the weak link in the organization and stay safely here in her lab.  But if she were to realize just the sort of person her aunt is, then she might start pushing to do field work too, and Sullivan’s friend wouldn’t have the heart to tell her no.

Sullivan doesn’t think his friend will be able to take another weak teammate getting into an avoidable situation and dying.

He deletes the browser bookmark for the newspaper.

Just before finishing up invading the privacy of Lacuna’s browser and email history, he notices an unread email from RevaTech, the paratech company that bought out her previous employer.  The company she stole a copy of her project back from on her way out the door.  The email is an unsolicited offer for a job interview to come back and work for them.  Sullivan hovers over the button to delete it but changes his mind.  It’ll be more entertaining to watch for her reaction.

Sullivan moves on to going through Lacuna’s notes on the mission reports she’s been sending him and scrubbing through the records of the comm link cameras.  Some might call his checking to make sure there’s nothing she’s been leaving out paranoid, but paranoid is his default state with anyone working with his friend.  The only surprise is how accurate it all is.  Not even any editorializing.  The only truly noteworthy bit is a comment about his friend not showing up right on camera with a followup comment stating that she’s been informed that’s normal for them.  Judging by her notes, it seems she assumes it’s some kind of stealth charm, maybe a function of the symbiote jacket.  Sullivan knows it’s not.

Sullivan checks his golden pocketwatch and judges that he still has enough time left to at least skim the logs of the simulations, rituals, and enchantments that have been performed down her before he needs to head back to check on his friend.  The more he reads, the more he pieces together how the digitally accelerated and computer generated rituals work, and the more he gathers what she’s been using it for.  Pieces click into place for him.  The more he understands, the more fascinated he becomes.  And the more entertained.

Sullivan blink to a different filter from before and sees a swirling cacophony of white noise that he can practically hear through his eyeballs emanating from the shelves of enchanted laser-engraved charms and 3D printed talismans. He strides down to the stark white testing chamber, switches his vision back to the heatmap filter, and sees a rope of pink-flecked black threads enter from the laboratory and turn into a tangled rainbow mess in the center of the room.  He switches to a third filter, returns to the lab’s entrance, and takes a long hard look at the rows of refrigerated paratech server racks behind their glass wall.

He begins laughing.

“Oh techie,” he crows, “do you have any idea what you’re growing down here?”

Almost certainly not, but it’s going to be delicious to watch.

Sullivan collects himself from the entertainment of watching fools accidentally do what the wise can only dream of and checks the time again.  He heads upstairs.  There’s a slim chance that his friend will recover from his venom faster than most and it’s vitally important that he be there when they wake up.  And if they're still asleep, then he’ll take the time to read through the report of all the tomes Ashan has read in the Manor’s lesser library that he had the maintenance golems record for him.  It’s been said that research makes the wizard, so his choices of reading material should be able to tell Sullivan plenty.  And if he judges Ashan’s path of study wanting, he can see to it that certain choice volumes containing magic more likely to be helpful to his friend find themselves conveniently placed for the young wizard to find.

He has just closed the door separating basement from ground floor behind him when he hears the creaky step on the staircase to the upper level signal someone’s descent.  Hanging back in the shadows, he watches a golden-haired woman kitted out in black leather and kevlar carry a long spear past the reception desk towards the front door.  She pauses for a moment to look at the still-sleeping Eris and Lacuna on the living room couch and Sullivan curses his angle of observation for not permitting him to see her expression.  He moves closer, behind the reception desk, and just at the edge of her peripheral vision.  Now is that jealousy on her face, or longing?  No, too bittersweet for either.  Parting sorrow sprinkled with regret and seasoned with just a dash of guilt.  Delectable.

“A little overdressed for grabbing a midnight snack from the kitchen, aren’t we?” Sullivan purrs.

The woman - Gretchen, Sullivan surmises from the little attention he paid earlier - slips a knife from her combat vest as she turns to face the man who had not been behind her a moment before.  Sullivan lifts a finger to casually push aside the blade hovering in front of his nose.

“Now, now, none of that,” he softly lilts.  “We wouldn’t want to wake your former paramour and your replacement, now would we?”

“Who are you?” Gretchen hisses.

“My, what lovely golden eyes you have.  The better to see me with, yes?  And such sharp teeth.  The better to eat me with, surely.”

Gretchen takes a long step back and lowers her spear between them.

“Oh, but wherever are my manners?  Sullivan Bridgewood, at my service.  I own this place.”  He leans closer over the reception desk.  “Now tell me, Gretchen, are your accommodations not to your liking?  There are no late checkout fees you know, so no need to go sneaking off like a thief in the night.”

“Oh, so you’re the asshole boss Eris mentioned.”

“Yes, I’m afraid muscles over there and I have been something of an oil and water combination.”

Gretchen stiffens at the nickname.  “Don’t call her that.”

“Oh?  Muscles?  I’ve found it perfectly apt.  Both a physical descriptor and summary of her utility and purpose.  What else can one want from a nickname?”

“E’s - Eris is… more than that.”

Sullivan leans closer still, resting his chin on interlaced fingers.  “Do tell.”

Gretchen scoffs and turns back toward the front door.  “I don’t owe you anything.”

“Or you could tell her directly if you prefer,” Sullivan says, no longer whispering.

Over on the couch, Lacua stirs at the sudden noise and Eris grunts at the shifting weight on her lap, but both remain asleep for the moment.  Gretchen freezes with her hand on the doorknob.  Sullivan smirks as she stands still, listening for a change in the sleepers’ breathing.

“Bastard,” she mutters.

“Only figuratively,” Sullivan whispers back.  “But not so much of one as to make you spill all those feelings you know you shouldn’t still have for someone you thought you were over.  Tell me but one worthwhile skill of hers that I’m underutilizing by employing her as meat shield and wrecking ball and I’ll let you walk out quietly.”

Gretchen glares at him.

“Admitting you can’t think of anything is also an option,” Sullivan hums.

“You know the monster hunters’ fifth fate?  Letting your identity, your sense of self, get so consumed by the love of the hunt that it kicks off an autogenesis cascade?  She brought me back from that.  Not pulling me back from the edge just in time, but actually brought me back after I’d willingly embraced it.  I had already changed and now I’m myself again.  That doesn’t happen.  Do you have any idea what it takes to call someone back like that?  What kind of person it takes?”

A face unrecognized in a mirror.  Years gone in an instant.  An empty shell.  Gaps filled in with fairytales.  Cries in the night.  Soft words in ears and gentle hands running through hair.  Reassurances of reality.  Proof offered of existence.  Activities curated to prevent cognitive dissonance.

Void Without, he’s an idiot.

Sullivan’s smirk fades.

“I do, believe it or not.  Thank you for the eye-opening reminder.  Truly.”

“You’re welcome,” Gretchen replies, wary of his sudden shift in disposition.

“Now, judging from personal experience, you’re not fully out of the woods yet, and you know it, but you don’t want to weigh down anyone you care about with it so you’re trying to distance yourself as quietly as possible.  I’ve seen firsthand how hard that can be.”

“You don’t know -”

“Yes.  I do.  And I also know enough to guess that you don’t have a plan beyond stepping out that door, so let me give you one.”  Sullivan places a calling card on the reception desk and taps on it.  “Go to this address in Crossherd before sunrise and ask for Lucinda.  Tell her Sullivan Prince sent you and explain your situation.  She’ll find you work that will be engaging without too much risk of sending you spiralling down again.  I’ve found by experience that finding something to put yourself into and care about is the best way to keep from losing yourself.”

Sullivan steps back and Gretchen cautiously approaches, picks up the calling card, and examines it.

“Why?” she asks.

Sullivan’s ever-bemused smirk returns, even more of an affectation than normal.

“I may be a bastard,” he trills as he walks around her and towards the door, “but I am still capable of a modicum of sympathy for fools in the same situations I’ve been through.  Oh, and one more thing.”  He stops at the door and jerks his head towards Eris.  “Unless you want to hurt her, at least leave a note before you disappear.”

That which is beneath Sullivan’s skin writhes, space warps, and he disappears, leaving Gretchen alone in the darkened room.

*******

To his relief, Sullivan’s friend is still asleep on the sandy floor when he returns to the aquatic drawing room.  The purple and green symbiote they wear has transformed itself from jacket to bedroll.

“Thanks for looking out for them,” Sullivan whispers to it as he settles down next to his friend.  He is still unsure whether the strange entity can even understand speech, but some sentiments are worth voicing anyway.

He closes his eyes and listens to his friend’s steady, peaceful, breathing and doesn’t think about what he would or wouldn’t see if he watched their sleeping face.  He knows he should send for the report on Ashan’s library usage rather than spend his time idle, but he procrastinates.  How many more nights like this will he get to have at his friend’s side?

The conversation with Gretchen and its implications turns over in his mind.  He’s never been able to find a worthy replacement for himself, and he’s just about given up on ever finding any one person fit for the job, but what if it were three people working together to take on his responsibilities?  One to do the information gathering and stay up to date on technology that rejects them, and two to share the joint burdens of following them into danger and recognizing when they need emotional support.  That was the whole reason he agreed to this ill-conceived enterprise, wasn’t it?  He hadn’t really believed in it working until now, but could it?  They haven’t gotten there yet, but could they?

Void Without, he hopes so.

His friend deserves someone better than him.

<-Previous Chapter Masterpost Next Chapter->

[eventstranspire]

"Hey, uh, it's me again."

"Hello Elaine," the robot says. "It's always a pleasure to see you again. I'm sorry the rest of the humans make you do this so often."

"Thanks, Miranda, it's fine," you say, avoiding contact with her kind eyes. "I'm one of the only ones who know how to drive the truck, and, uh, it's kind of good to chat with, y'know. Someone else."

She nods sympathetically. "I think I know what you mean. Us androids have kept our little hydroponic project going, of course, and we're happy to load your truck with some fresh veggies to keep you all going down there. But if you're not in too much of a hurry, I made something special that I'd like to show you." Still smiling, she beckons you to follow.

Baffled, you clump along in your envirosuit behind her lithe, artificial body. The two of you wind your way through the maze of dust and rubble that makes up most of the surface world. Miranda turns one last corner and looks back at you, shy. You catch up and see a small, sealed pod of a building, about the size of a small detached house from before the collapse. "Tada!" Miranda says.

"What is this?" you ask, following her inside. The exterior door seals behind you. You hear air cyclers exchanging the outside air, a spritz of detox cleansing the outside of your suit and Miranda's body.

"Check your suit's readings," Miranda says, standing close to you to check the dials herself.

"It's... breathable in here," you exclaim. "It's got lower contaminant levels than the Community, even!"

Miranda helps you out of your suit, servos whirring as her hands deftly unzip and unbuckle your crinkling shell. You find yourself blushing in your underlayers as she shows you around a suite of rooms filled with decorative plants, comfortable furniture, soft lighting, and quintuple-layered transparent aluminum windows.

"If you want, you can tell them it was hard to negotiate for supplies with the androids this time. Maybe tell them you needed to stay all night, bartering," Miranda suggests.

You chuckle, sitting next to her on the luxurious cushions. "What do we even have to offer? Biological samples? Bodily fluids?"

She quirks an eyebrow. "That's very forward of you, but I was thinking of starting with a movie."

"Oh. OH!" you reply. She takes your hand, her polymer palm soft and warm against yours. You feel your blush rising all the way from your chest, up your neck. "I do think... negotiations might be slow this time..."

The underground society known as the Community, the last known surviving humans on Earth, are facing a serious resource crisis. In order to survive, they must make a grim decision, one person must leave each year. You got the least amount of votes. You must now go up to the unlivable surface.

[cyclecraze]

Best Bicycle for City Life: 5 Top Picks for 2024

City life comes with its own set of challenges and out of all of them, moving about is among the most difficult task. The challenge increases if you are running low on time. In such cases, investing in a good bicycle can go a long way as it provides a simpler solution. Whether it is getting to work, doing some chores or going out for a ride, with the right bike, everything becomes simpler. With the increase in traffic, pollution along with the need for exercise people have turned towards cycling. It’s the new trend in the cities and makes sense if we look towards the future.

But imagine being in a city and not being able to find the perfect city bike that caters to all of your needs. If one thinks about their troubles when biking in a city, they think about comfort, versatility, durability and lastly style. As an imported bicycles dealer in India, Cyclocraze is well aware of the concerns and bike demands as they provide a variety of bicycles that appeal to city riders.

Lets take a look at 5 of the best bicycles that will make your city more fun in 2024 while also being easy to use and running smoothly. The world is changing and so is the technology, make sure to keep up.

Criteria for Selection

Before we go into detail as to what are our top picks, let us first detail the factors we took into consideration when choosing the best bikes for commuting:

1. Comfort and Ergonomics

Incorporating comfort features enhances the bike commuting experience in a city. If your commute to work requires long travel or short hops, the best option is to get a bike specifically designed for comfort. The presence of adjustable seat, suitable handlebars and a well built bike should be able to have you respectfully riding throughout the day.

2. Construction and Material

Given that urban riding comes with bumps, curbs, and potholes, the one major setback are the city roads. Hence when choosing a bike for city riding, one of the concerns that top the list is durability. In order to provide comfort while being durable for daily routine, we have selected bikes which have been constructed with aluminum and steel.

3. Ability to carry around and storage capabilities

One problem that most cities have is the lack of sufficient storing space, compact bikes that are easier to store are very useful especially when storing in apartments, offices, or taking them on public transport. We have tried to minimize this issue by including foldable bikes in our selection.

4. Price Range

Although quality is of utmost priority, placement matters for a vast majority of cyclers in the urban setup. Our selections span various price ranges, ensuring that budgetary considerations do not compromise on key features.

5. Accessories and Features

New urban cycles come integrated with a number of attachments that improve the overall experience associated with riding. Built-in lights to make riding in the dark safer, racks to carry groceries, and other such attachments make commuting easier and more seamless, and the bikes we evaluated had it.

Top Picks

1. Urban Rider 3000

The Urban Rider 3000 is a perfect option for anyone who wants a commutation bike that is reliable and versatile for urban use. The riding bicycle has an aluminum frame that makes this cyclist’s bike lightweight yet extremely strong, thus making it easy to ride on plains as well on the bumps of the urban city.

Features:

Urban Rider 3000, An Amazing Commuter Bike for City / Urban Riders, Available on Cyclocraze. The Urban Rider 3000 is professional’s choice for premium urban riding and commuting. Cyclocraze is known for being India’s importer bicycle specialist and urban cycling enthusiast for being the first of its kind.

2. City Commuter Pro

As the name suggests, the City Commuter Pro is specifically designed for the people who use the bike in the city, it comes with a multi-speed gear system which is perfect for riding in varied terrains starting from riding on an absolutely flat paved road to riding on a roads which are inclined and requires a bit more effort to cycle on. Another brilliant feature is puncture resistant tires which mean you can ride around without having to worry if you're going to tomorrow cycle being stranded. The last standout feature is the rear rack which allows you to take extra bags or even passenger.

Features:

If you want to ensure that you're getting a sturdy and reliable bicycle for your daily city rides then the City Commuter Pro is the perfect model for you. You can order it online cycle store and wait for it to be delivered to your desired location.

3. Foldable City Bike X

Space is at a premium in city centers and finding a storage-friendly bike gets tough. Bearing this in mind, The Foldable City Bike X is made with portability in mind. It employs a quick-release folding mechanism to help you save space while storing it in your office or apartment. This small bike is easy to use and aids commuters in enjoying their ride during the day without compromising on seating comfort or performance.

• Features:

If you are searching for a high performance foldable bike, then the Foldable City Bike X will do you justice.

4. Electric city cruiser

This model is one of the best in terms of effortless and modern biking. Its range is between 10 to 50 mile and its battery makes the thinking of cycling meaningless. Its design will make you incredibly stylish and the built in locking system gives you security for your bikes in case you are not riding them.

Features:

This electric city bike is available on our online cycle store and being an imported bicycle dealer in India, we make sure that you get nothing but the best bicycles.

5. The Classic Single Speed Bike

Those who prefer simple commuting options mostly choose classic single-speed bikes. Weighing considerably less, this bike is extremely convenient and fast moving across the city. It is well able to accommodate less hilly regions and is easier to maintain as compared to complicated gear systems.

Features:

For riders who want a dependable bike with less added features for everyday use, The Classic Single Speed Cyclist is the most obvious option.

Conclusion

Selecting an appropriate bike plays an important part in aiding commuters with their ease and comfort in cycling through busy parts of town. For the more casual riders looking for lightweight mountain bikes, bicycle folding bikes for easier carriage, or even electrical powered bicycles for stress free commutes, there is something for everyone based on our recommendations.

Cyclocraze has a wide selection of bicycles designed for every type of need, including custom made cycles, and imported bicycles. We are an imported bicycle dealer in India that speaks true to their word in terms of having the best bikes to use in cities. Check out our online cycle store and get yourself the perfect ride for 2024!

[allencherer-blog]

5 Common Questions From Beginner Cyclers

[carnelianwings]

Went to BCS Sacramento, did well on Day 1 (by my standards), and shockingly well on Day 2.

Tucking the rest behind the cut, I’m going to assume my opponents (especially from Day 2) aren’t here (because whoooooo boy I was seeing salt on Twitter due to how I got the wins - totally legal by the rules, it was just 95% luck 😅)

Day 1 was Standard, which is the usual format I play the most of these days (since we usually have enough for shop tournament), so with 435 people I just hoped for “going positive” and calling it a day. Which I did, with a 4-3 result on Lianorn. Highlights included hitting the full combo with the insane double Rosarium Fairy + Luster Impact + Magnolia Order, set up via Vivace Persona > Gun Cycler RC skill > Broccolly on place > draw into second Fairy. Also completely broke a Luticia player on Round 7 when they did Luticia Persona restand … when I had an absolutely massive hand to defend it all.

Day 2 though …

First opponent was clearly me just getting paired well over my head against a previous BCS Champion and Worlds player, so literally “Oh shit I just got paired into this absolute tryhard, one of the best players in the game, and all I can do is pray I built this Narukami deck well enough and to the luck gods I will see what I need to win.” I knew this because you can set banners for your BushiNavi profile, and this guy had the Worlds 2023 participant banner so basically I had a “… oh fuck I just got Round 1 paired into someone who’s the equivalent of a Top 100 player in Vanguard Zero”-moment.

But the funny thing about that situation is I’ve had that happen to me in Vanguard Zero before not once, but more like a dozen times, especially when I was grinding for a rank reward alt art I really liked (Starcall Trumpeter, Thing Saver, Percival, Altmile, and Blaster Blade Exceed seasons all come to mind) so I was like “Wait. I’ve done this before. And I’ve won before when it happened, by staying calm, remembering my plays, and having a bit of luck on my side. I can do this.”

So I did that. And oh boy did the luck come through - I take first, find my G3s for the Zorras History Collection Stride, boom, third check, Dragveda comes through. Push to 4, force out some PGs, double triple drive gives me the cards I need to survive the clap back, opponent leaves a G2 with Resist on the board (hoping to stop V-Chou-Oh restand). Reride Sweep Command, take my 3rd Accel II circle, throw down Meteor Flare to kill the Resist, retire it, Stride Exterminate for 6 attacks at +20k to front row for game.

Round 2 I lose to Granblue - that was a brickfest on my part, went 2nd, had to G Assist Turn 1 for a G1, couldn’t find a single Vanquisher for the Stunverse-Zorras double Stride play, ran out of Soul because I couldn’t find a reride, couldn’t do Exterminate or even just Stunverse. Which I freely accepted - it’s a risk I was taking by running only 8 G1 units in that deck, 1 of which is a 1-of Honoly.

Round 3, I somehow get paired into another more experienced player - I knew this, because this guy shows up, all business, zero small talk, no playmat, just sits down and sets up, 100% methodically. All he says before we start is “Yeah this deck has some ratio issues”, and all I say is “Yeah, mine does too” followed by a “good luck” right before we start the match (I consider it common courtesy just from my old chess club days). Turns out it’s Dimension Police, probably Dailiner, and I’m like sweating. Deck does 2 and only 2 things: make huge-ass Vanguard columns, and Sentinel crush. I’m Narukami. I can get the big hand, but I’m not necessarily built for dealing with that kind of offensive output. But I’m spared - opponent mega-bricks on Turn 1, rides the 6k Commander Laurel for G1, fails G-Assist on G2, gets wrecked by my Zorras Stride on Turn 3, he finds a G2 and Rides up but by that point it’s too late. Second Stride Exterminate, opponent defends with the -2 crit off a heal guard … except I drive check crit (goes to Esperaridea, I almost always throw it on him), blank, and … Dragveda. At which point it was game over because I throw power to Esperaridea, restand Exterminate, attack again for another triple drive. (Actually funny that round because my opponent was like “Wait Esperaridea restand is 1/Turn?” and I confirm it is, but on the inside I’m like “… it’s heavily used in Standard in Shiranui and basically in every P-Narukami deck but you didn’t know that while being this tryhard about this game?”)

Round 4 I get demolished by Bermuda Highlander … which I kind of expected to happen because while I get a lot of practice into it, I have a hard time building enough hand fast enough to deal with all the multi-attacks but at least I did kind of make my opponent work for it.

Round 5 I get matched against this mega salty (disrespectful) guy who just kept complaining about how he was stuck down here (X-2 bracket at this point) while his friends were at the tables higher up than him, wouldn’t stop complaining about it, and was like “I didn’t bring a Standard deck with me for side events so I can’t drop”. Then has the gall to say, after I defensive 6th damage OT (Dragveda bless you thank you for saving my ass) he was all “unless I see defensive OT I’m dead this turn, so I may as well flip the top card over and see” as I’m getting ready to discard for Exterminate Stride and I tell him he can if he wants to but we can’t continue after if he does. He flips heal, followed by OT, flips them both back over and says “let’s play it out” and I refuse (was about to call a judge on this guy too).

This is why I refuse to give up until 6th damage hits damage zone, because had he flipped heal-OT I would’ve lost on the following turn (I just didn’t have the hand for it). I’ve also pulled heal-OT (or vice versa) at locals twice before (hilariously against the same player both times - he still remembers it 😂) so I know while it’s unlikely it’s possible, especially with a deck that can compress (like Granblue).

Round 6, I got the default win after my opponent no showed (I got confirmation my opponent dropped after pairings went up, so I can only assume my opponent was friends with someone else I’d played earlier that day and knew they were getting paired into a very lucky Narukami player and didn’t want to play it out).

Round 7 was actually the most back and forth match I had all day, Chaos-Messiah, actually went “… oh shit” internally after I won dice roll and chose first. Opponent survived double Exterminate, went into Integral Messiah to force me to shuffle hand back into deck (hilariously enough I think that ended up helping me in the long run), but passed turn on a board. I’d managed to get a Stride crit back into hand off the draw 5 (along with 2 heal guards and Dragveda), so I Stunversed him to recover some hand. Survived the next turn (Dragveda saved my ass again as a 50k shield), went into V Max despite having only 1 CB for game despite having GB8 already at the start of the turn - I didn’t want to go into GB8 because that would’ve meant Binding both of my Esperarideas on the board (and they’d been putting in work forcing my opponent to guard and giving me 5 attacks/turn). I had to scramble all of my knowledge from playing against our Chaos Breaker main at locals (a match up I’m 0-2 against, because I kept decking out against it) to keep up with my opponent, and in the end he decked himself out when I managed to land a hit when he had just 2 cards left in deck. Most stressful game all day, and my opponent making me shuffle back my encyclopedia of a hand with Integral Messiah actually made it so I’d have more cards than him in deck.

Then I learned X-2 had a shot at Top 16 and I was like “Uhhhh what????” but I ended up bubbling out on tie breakers and didn’t make it - not that it mattered because, uhhhh holy shit??????? 5-2 at my first solo tournament??? When the last time I played this deck I had a personal 2-5 for BSF Ontario TriReg??? At the format that has the highest burden of knowledge for card interactions and pool?????? And all I had to go off of was just … whatever I remembered from the anime, from playing Vanguard Zero (which changed some card effects) and whatever I got to see at my very small locals???

Also my favorite “spice tech from Standard” Meteor Flare keeps coming up - the +10k for no opponent rear guards comes up absurdly often (most people just try to clear board to avoid letting me bind their stuff) and the Continuous ability deny actually came up today. I’d originally put it in when Bushi changed how Resist worked, so I teched in 2 copies just so I could shut off Resist because it’s typically a Continuous ability the rear guard grants itself.

All in all, a rather fun experience, made a new friend, said we’d meet up again at Pasadena. Said friend was like “Damn you’ve inspired me to play Premium now” when he learned this was my first solo tournament after doing BSF Ontario with 2 others from my locals. Also actually felt validated in that deck choice and that “Yeah, I really can do this as a player making the jump from Vanguard Zero to physical TCG and the skills I learned from Zero are still relevant and valuable.”

Also as for winning off OT not once, but twice? It’s a card in the game that you can only run one of, if you see it great, if you don’t, well, that’s the way the cookie crumbles. I do find it kind of amusing both times it was against a Star/Brandt Gate deck, because I know if it had been the other way around they would’ve been like “Welp sucks to be you” because Eldobreath is just as good as Dragveda for how easily it can just win you the game right then and there, and is largely considered to be one of the two best OTs in the game (the other being, of course, Dragveda). Card games in general, whether it’s a TCG like Vanguard or a regular card game like poker or blackjack, have always had an element of chance involved, and part of that has always been risk assessment. If I have the means to guard a Vanguard drive check and I choose not to, I (personally) accept that if the consequence is my opponent sees their “I Win” button, and I lose because they flipped it, then the fault lies not with my opponent, but myself. And that, in my opinion, is a skill, and I think it’s a skill lot of people don’t realize is a part of the game.

[semcoinfratechworld]

Understanding Battery Testing Parameters with Neware Battery Testing System

Understanding battery testing parameters is crucial for ensuring the safety and performance of lithium-ion batteries. Neware Technology Limited, a prominent manufacturer of battery testing systems, offers a range of sophisticated testing machines designed to meet various industry standards. This article explores the key parameters involved in battery testing using Neware Machine, specifically focusing on their capabilities and applications.

Overview of Neware Battery Testing Systems

Neware has been a significant player in battery testing since its founding in 1998. The company specializes in developing reliable and cost-effective battery cyclers, analyzers, and testers for various battery types, including lithium-ion, nickel-metal hydride (NiMH), and nickel-cadmium (NiCd) batteries. Their systems are widely used in research, development, and quality control across multiple sectors, including electric vehicles (EVs) and consumer electronics.

Key Features of Neware Battery Testers

Neware’s battery testing systems, such as the BTS4000 and BTS9000 models, are equipped with advanced features that facilitate comprehensive testing:

Multi-channel Testing: Each model can handle multiple channels independently, allowing simultaneous testing of different batteries or configurations. This is essential for efficiency in research and production environments.

Programmable Testing Parameters: Users can set various parameters such as voltage, current, and time for each test. This flexibility enables precise control over testing conditions, which is vital for accurate performance evaluation.

Dynamic Internal Resistance Measurement: Neware Battery Testing Machine includes built-in pulse sources that allow for the measurement of a battery’s internal resistance, an important factor in assessing battery health and performance.

Data Analysis Tools: The BTSDA (Battery Testing System Data Analysis) software bundled with Neware systems provides powerful data processing capabilities, enabling users to visualize and analyze testing results effectively. This software can export data in various formats, making it easier to integrate with other analysis tools.

Important Battery Testing Parameters

Battery testing encompasses several critical parameters that ensure the battery’s safety, performance, and compliance with international standards:

1. Charge and Discharge Cycles

Testing the charge and discharge cycles is fundamental in evaluating a battery’s capacity and longevity. Neware Battery Testing System enables users to perform these cycles under controlled conditions, allowing for the assessment of cycle life and performance degradation over time.

2. Temperature Cycling

Temperature cycling tests are essential for understanding how batteries perform under varying thermal conditions. Neware Testing Machine can simulate different temperatures to evaluate the battery’s thermal stability and performance in real-world applications.

3. Overcharge and Forced Discharge Tests

These tests assess the battery’s safety under extreme conditions. Neware Battery Testing Machine can conduct overcharge tests to ensure that batteries can handle excess voltage without failure. Similarly, forced discharge tests evaluate how batteries respond when discharged beyond their rated capacity.

4. Compliance with Standards

Neware battery testers are designed to comply with various international standards, including IEC 62133, UN 38.3, and UL 1642. These standards outline safety and performance requirements for lithium-ion batteries, ensuring that products meet regulatory requirements for transportation and use.

Conclusion

Neware battery testing systems provide comprehensive solutions for evaluating lithium-ion batteries. By understanding and utilizing the key testing parameters offered by Neware, manufacturers, and researchers can ensure their batteries meet safety standards and perform reliably in various applications. With a commitment to innovation and quality, Neware continues to lead the way in battery testing technology, supporting the growing demand for safe and efficient energy storage solutions. As a leading battery manufacturing equipment supplier, Neware Battery Tester India offers top-tier Neware Machines to customers worldwide.