#including the mezzanine!!!!!!!

[annieisyourfavourite]

it's literally healing to get to sit down for a while. and yet my workplace does not seem to understand this basic Tenant

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

SFX Magazine Issue 372 - Designing Good Omens ❤ 😊

PRODUCTION DESIGNER MICHAEL RALPH REVEALS HOW THE SHOW’S CENTREPIECE SET, WHICKBER STREET, WAS GIVEN A DEVILISHLY CLEVER UPGRADE FOR THE SECOND SEASON

WORDS: DAVE GOLDER

Invisible Columns And Thin Walls “The new studio is Pyramid Studios in Bathgate – it used to be a furniture warehouse. And unfortunately – or fortunately, because I accept these things as not challenges but gifts – right down the middle of that studio are a series of upright columns. But you’ll never spot them on screen. I had to build them in and integrate them into the walls and still get the streets between them. And it worked.

“There’s all sorts of cheeky design values to those sets. Normally a set like this is double-skin. In other words, you do an interior wall and an exterior wall, with an airspace in between. But really, the only time a viewer notices that there’s that width is at the doors and the windows. So I cheated all that. I ended up with single walls everywhere. So the exterior wall is the interior wall, just painted. All I did was make the sash windows and entrances wider to give it some depth as you walked in.”

GOOD OMENS HAD A CHANGE of location for its second season, but hopefully you didn’t notice. Because Whickber Street in Soho upped sticks from an airfield in Hertfordshire to a furniture warehouse in Bathgate, Edinburgh. It’s the kind of nonsensical geographical shenanigans that could only make sense in the crazy world of film and TV, and production designer Michael Ralph was the man in charge of rebuilding and expanding the show’s vast central set. “I wish we could have built more in season one than we did,” says Ralph, whose previous work has included Primeval and Dickensian. “We built the ground floor of everything and the facades of all the shops. But we didn’t build anything higher than that, because we were out on an airfield in a very, very difficult terrain and weather conditions, so we really couldn’t go much higher. Visual effects created the upper levels.”

But with season two the set has gone to a whole other level… literally. “What happened was that the rest of the street became integrated into the series’s storyline,” explains Ralph. “So we needed a record shop, we needed a coffee shop that actually had an inside, we needed a magic shop, we needed the pub. To introduce those meant we had to change the street with a layout that works from a storylines point of view. In other words, things like someone standing at the counter in the record shop had to be able to eyeball somebody standing at the counter in the coffee shop. They had to be able to eyeball Aziraphale sitting in his office in the window of the bookshop. But the rest of it was a pleasure to do inside, because we could expand it and I could go up two storeys.”

For most of the set, which is around 80 metres long and 60 metres wide, the two storeys only applied to the shop frontages, but in the case of Aziraphale’s bookshop, it allowed Ralph to build the mezzanine level for real this time. According to Ralph it became one of the cast and crews’ favourite places to hang out during down time.

But while AZ Fell & Co has grown in height, it actually has a slightly smaller footprint because of the logistics of adapting it to the new studio.

“Everybody swore to me that no one would notice,” says Ralph wryly. “I walked onto it and instinctively knew there was a difference immediately, and they hated me for that. I have this innate sense about spatial awareness and an eye like a spirit level.

“It’s not a lot, though – I think we’ve lost maybe two and a half feet on the front wall internally. I think that there’s a couple of other smaller areas, but only I’d notice. So I can be really annoying to my guys, but only on those levels. Not on any other. They actually quite like me…”

Populating The Bookshop “The props in the new bookshop set were a flawless reproduction from the set decorator Bronwyn Franklin [who is also Ralph’s wife]. It was really the worst-case scenario after season one. She works off the concept art that I produce, but what she does is she adds so much more to the character of the set. She doesn’t buy anything she doesn’t love, or doesn’t fit the character.

“But the things she put a lot of work into finding for season one, they were pretty much one-offs. When we burnt the set down in the sixth episode, we lost a lot of props, many of which had been spotted and appreciated by the fans. So Bronwyn had to discover a new set decorating technique: forensic buying.

“She found it all – duplicates and replicas. It took ages. In that respect, the Covid delay was very helpful for Bron. There’s 7,000 books in there and there’s not one fake book. That’s mainly because… it’s a weird thing to say, but we wanted it to smell and feel like a bookshop to everybody that was in it, all the time.

“It affects everybody subliminally; it affects everybody’s performance – actors and crew – it raises the bar 15 to 20%. And the detail, you know… We love a lot of detail.”

(look at the description under this, they called him 'Azi' hehehehe :D <3)

Aziraphale’s Inspirational Correspondence “There’s not one single scrap of paper on Aziraphale’s desk that isn’t written specifically for Aziraphale. Every single piece is not just fodder that’s been shoved there, it has a purpose; it’s a letter of thanks, or an enquiry about a book or something.

“Michael Sheen is so submerged in his character he would get lost sitting at his own desk, reading his own correspondence between takes. I believe wholeheartedly that if you put that much care into every single piece of detail, on that desk and in that room, that everybody feels it, including the crew, and then they give that set the same respect it deserves.

“They also lift their game because they believe that they’re doing something of so much care and value. Really, it’s a domino effect of passion and care for what you’re producing.”

Alternative Music “My daughter Mickey is lead graphic designer [two of Ralph’s sons worked on the series too, one as a concept artist, the other in props]. They’re the ones that produced all of that handwritten work on the desk. She’s the one that took on the record shop and made up 80 band names so that we didn’t have to get copyright clearance from real bands. Then she produced records and sleeves that spanned 50, 60 years of their recordings, and all of the graphics on the walls.

“I remember Michael and Neil [Gaiman] getting lost following one band’s history on the wall, looking at their posters and albums desperately trying to find out whether they survived that emo period.”

It’s A Kind Of Magic One of the new shops in Whickber Street for season two was Will Goldstone’s Magic Shop, which is full of as many Easter eggs as off-the-shelf conjuring tricks, including a Matt Smith Doctor Who-style fez and a toy orang-utan that’s a nod to Discworld’s The Librarian. Ralph says that while the series is full of references to Gaiman, Pratchett and Doctor Who, Michael Sheen never complained about a lack of Masters Of Sex in-jokes. “He’d be the last person to make that sort of comment!”

Ralph also reveals that the magic shop counter was another one of his wife’s purchases, bought at a Glasgow reclamation yard.

The Anansi Boys Connection Ralph reveals that Good Omens season two used the state-of-the-art special effects tech Volume (famous for its use in The Mandalorian to create virtual backdrops) for just one sequence, but he will be using it extensively elsewhere on another Gaiman TV series being made for Prime Video.

“We used Volume on the opening sequence to create the creation of the universe. I was designing Anansi Boys in duality with this project, which seems an outrageously suicidal thing to do. But it was fantastic and Anansi Boys was all on Volume. So I designed for Volume on one show and not Volume on the other. The complexities and the psychology of both is different.”

[honey-tongued-devil]

↠The last drop tour

| Part 1 | | Part 2 | | Part 3 |

This tour is designed to provide those who need it with a complete map of the Last Drop, as well as to help me (and anyone reading my fanfiction, Everytime it Rains) clearly envision the spaces while reading. This tour is incredibly detailed, and I’ll explain both the location and what you’re looking at. Let’s just say I’ll be your personal tour guide! Enjoy!

↠FIRST PART, THE BAR

Let’s start with the entrance! The door is massive, asymmetrical in true Zaun style, made of stained glass and steel. To the right of the door is the Last Drop’s electric meter, while on the left stands the iconic, battered jukebox. In these photos, it looks especially worse for wear because they were taken after the fight between Vi and Sevika.

And we can finally turn around to take in the Last Drop in its entirety! For accuracy, I’ve included both a screenshot from “Jinx Fixes Everything” and an image from Nikolai Lebedev’s ArtStation portfolio.

There are about four fairly large round tables scattered across the central area of the room. The floor is herringbone wood, and the lighting is spread out. While I didn’t take the photos myself, the LED lights are dispersed across the ceiling. On the second floor, you can still spot a yellowish-greenish sign featuring the Last Drop’s symbol, and the “columns” are adorned with blue lights.

If you’re looking for warm lighting, the yellow neon lights and the ones behind the bar are switched on; the cooler lights are positioned along the side walls of the venue.

Before moving on to show you what’s around the main rectangle, I’d like to point out that the staircase to the left of the bar leads to the upper floor. Next to it is a small corridor that takes you to arcade machines and the pool table seen in several scenes.

"What’s on the sides of the rectangle? What do you mean?"

Yeah, I wasn’t sure how else to describe it, but while the public and chaotic section where people dance is the central rectangle, to the right and left of that area are two booths on each side. These booths have fixed tables and heavy curtains that can be closed to ensure maximum privacy.

This is where customers strike deals—we see it in Act 1 when the two Bilgewater pirates threaten Huck. Since the Last Drop came under Silco’s control, the first booth now displays pictures of him (and two other chembarons, though theirs are small and insignificant), commemorating the venue’s inauguration.

So, if you’re looking for privacy, this is the perfect spot.

But follow me—before I take you to Silco’s office, I’ll bring you to another place I’m sure none of you expected to see. Through the door to the right of the bar, there’s a small flat area, perfect for storing spare drinks, followed by a long staircase leading down. But first, we need to grab the key. Silco cared deeply about keeping this place intact, so it’s been locked up the entire time. In the meantime, take a look at the bar!

The key is nailed to one of the planks of the bar—it was necessary to stop here to retrieve it. But let’s not dawdle, down we go!

I know you’d never have guessed, but Silco was an extremely sentimental person. He decided not to touch the little room where Vander and his kids used to live. Instead, he locked it up and let it remain "sacred" in its own way. The room is very small and packed with stuff, so it’s hard to move around. You’ll have to settle for a quick glimpse. Let me jog your memory by reminding you that when Vander talks to Vi and sends Mylo and Claggor out of the room, the staircase Claggor sits on is the same one we just came down.

What do you say—shall we head back up? Taking the staircase on the left side of the bar, we arrive at the upper floor! At first glance, it’s just a mezzanine, as it aligns with the "public" rectangle of the bar below. To the left of the stairs, we have Silco’s office, which I’ll show you in detail another time. Over there, where you now see the barrels, is where, in my story, there’s a door leading to the upstairs area—currently Vander and the kids’ home. That door gets covered during event nights to prevent any troublemakers from wandering into their house. On the right, we have the DJ’s console and more tables for those who’d rather enjoy their drinks in peace than join the dance floor.

The reason I suggest you take a break and grab a drink before entering Silco's office is that there's really a lot to see. Here you’ll find my Masterlist, which includes both Part 1 and Part 2 of the tour.

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Massive Attack - Teardrop 1998

"Teardrop" is a song by English trip hop group Massive Attack. Vocals are performed by Scottish singer Elizabeth Fraser, former lead singer of Cocteau Twins, who also wrote the lyrics. It was released on 27 April 1998 as the second single from the group's third studio album, Mezzanine.

In the UK, "Teardrop" peaked at number 10, becoming the group's highest-charting single and only top-10 hit in their native country. It reached number one in Iceland and became a top-20 hit in Australia, Denmark, Ireland, and New Zealand.

The song has been featured in various television programmes, including as the opening theme for the medical drama series House.

"Teardrop" was first developed from a simple harpsichord riff picked out in the studio in April 1997. Andrew Vowles, the main songwriter of this song, originally sent the demo to Madonna as he wanted her to record the vocals (the band had previously worked with her on their 1995 reworking of the song "I Want You"). However, the two other band members Robert Del Naja and Grantley Marshall wanted Elizabeth Fraser of the Cocteau Twins to record the vocals, feeling her ethereal style suited the mournful melody and feel of the piece. Madonna was very keen to record the vocals, and was disappointed when the two-to-one vote went in Fraser's favour.

"Teardrop" received a total of 73,3% yes votes! Previous Massive Attack polls: #39 "Angel"

[rayroseu]

The Details on Malleus' Clubwear✨

⚠️messy and overblown analysis lol

also thanks to malleus, i now have little trivia about history of raincoats 💀

I feel like this card's details are so unexpected. I think everyone (me included) expected it to have a sculptor's outfit (I still want the sculptor outfit lol) or a researcher, but we overlook one fact about Malleus' club: his daily activity as a club member is just walking and sight seeing the gargoyles around the campus as told in his School Uniform card.

The crafting part and the researching are just consequence activities of observing the gargoyles, after all, as you admire these gargoyles for a long time, naturally of course, you would be interested in their history and be inspired to create them.

His club's name is Gargoyle Studies Club, and it seems like even the room of this club is heavy on research activities. When Malleus says that he also crafts the gargoyles, he seems to say it as like a little fun fact of the club, that its just a side activity. His "club room" seems to reflect that in his club, they do more reading than sculpting.

Mentioning this, it seems like Malleus' clubroom is the NRC library, in the distance, you can see the mezzanine is the same and the floating books and the lights are also alike. Because NRC library only has one picture used often, its interesting to see it in a different view. The closest we got from his clubroom is from Halloween. but in Malleus' clubwear its just devoid of decorations.

Additionally, since this is his clubroom, Library is also a place Malleus frequents. there's many instance where Malleus stays in the library.

Labwear: I love how quiet the library is in the afternoon. You're welcome to join me there sometime, if you want to see what I mean. Halloween: I suppose I've no recourse but to scour each bookshelf one by one. .... I was gathering reference materials, and before I knew it, I was surrounded by this mountain of books. Dorm Uniform Vignette: No one came after two hours of sitting alone, so I headed towards the library and waited for an hour, before finally making my way to the Headmaster’s Office.

And on the opening of TWST, he was only seen in the Library. (The windows are the same and after this shot, Grim found Malleus sitting beside the window, the background there is the NRC library).

One more interesting thing about the room, there is a globe here which I think is a nice implication that Malleus is also interested in other countries architecture (as shown in his reaction in Silk City). This says that Malleus extends his interested in architecture outside of Europe, bcs he also likes seeing ruins and the history of fallen countries (Malleus Bloom Vignette). Gargoyles are only limited in mostly European settings but no matter what as long as the architecture is functional ig, He'll like them even if they had no gargoyles bcs he's intrigued by History in general.

(on 2nd picture) And this is what I was hyped about the room the most lol THERE'S FINALLY A CROW STATUE ILLUSTRATED FOR HIS CLUB 😭✨🙏

Malleus: Ones with features inspired by ravens are rare. This one is the only one I've ever laid eyes on, as it happens. Silver: I see a raven statue on this wall as well. Perhaps these gargoyles aren't so rare around here.

It seems that this gargoyle is still on the process of being made. I'd like to imagine Malleus is still crafting this and its beside many books bcs he's researching and referencing for its design. Like, he wants to craft a raven gargoyle accurate to the animal and its history.

Additionally, the shape being made looks similar to the raven statues around the Coloseum, but I think unlike these statues, Malleus intends to craft this as a gargoyle, bcs what he's crafting is a raven with an open mouth (for the rainsprout ig), not like these statues whose beaks are closed.

Now, to go about his outfit lol, I really really didn't expect the trench coat (which is literally his dorm uniform in different format lol) to make a comeback lol I thought his SSR are for him to wear different clothes alksdfjlkfd but he looks stylish and classic (true to his furniture style)

But like this is also a good joke where we know long coats always looks good with tall people (that's why he keeps wearing them) lol (Look, there's a reason why Lilia doesn't properly wear his trench coat properly, he knows this clothing is not made for little people lol)😂

OKAY I'm not a fashion history expert, and most that I'll ramble here are just quick searches, bcs I'm always intrigued at how insistent Diasomnia fashion is in being close with Military clothes. even Yana Toboso on 2020 Magical Archive says the Diasomnia uniform is based on military clothes.

mackintosh trench coat history

Obviously, TWST isn's accurate about it bcs they're trying to fit "a fantasy design." Regardless, I believe out of all the dorm uniforms, Diasomnia has the clearest vision of a certain time period (I think their fashion is mostly based on 19th-20th century Europe)

Both his dorm uniform and club wear are trench coat essentially. The wide lapel (the triangular collar), the belts on waist, the buttons/zipper on front, the long length of the skirt, its leather are similar features between them. Notably, trench coats was invented for military purposes, much like how Diasomnia clothes are meant to look like military uniforms.

But I think what sets his club wear outfit apart from his Uniform is the fact that his top has a draping around his sleeves. I feel like its a nice design to tell that his outfit here is specifically raincoat. The closest I could find that relates to 19th century is the Mackintosh, its basically the early invention of a waterproof clothing/raincoat.

Unlike a trench coat, mackintosh has one purpose; to shelter from rain, that's why in Malleus' clubwear he has no stuff hanging around his belt and outfit (accurate to the example of a mackintosh?) unlike his dorm uniform bcs this raincoat is apparently meant to be simple and minimalistic.

Its not like the trench coat which has to be multi-purpose. In his dorm uniform, Malleus has many things around his belt, its accurate to the purpose of a belt in trench coat so that a soldier can hang things on them.

Additionally. trench coat was developed from the mackintosh, which for me solidifies the fact that his dorm uniform and his clubwear really has parallel inspirations

That part of his outfit could also be just a cloak lol. But yh, despite the little "first invented raincoat" inspiration, I do still think clubwear outfit is more trench coat than anything lol, its the double breasted buttons there that convinces me

But its interesting for me, bcs these fashion aren't really "Maleficent-live action accurate." (I'm aware TWST doesnt just take inspiration from one source though) In the movie Maleficent, their fashion was more inspired with traditional clothes, like as faes/the Moors, I expected them as well to have these clothes that makes them look like willow trees to reference that they're more nature connected.

She doesn’t wear garments made of leather or velvet, because leather and velvet don’t fly. There’s nothing heavy. It’s all made of fabrics that are light and airy.

This was also said in the costume design of Maleficent (live action) and why she always wear loose dresses. I feel like costume design of Diasomnia took the opposite turn, probably bcs they want to highlight Diasomnia's importance to strength and this dorm's notable significance in war. (Coats like these basically was prevalent in World War garments).

Moving on, the umbrella lol IT'S CROWLEY'S CANE ALKFJDKLSD Okay no. the difference is that, Malleus' handle has a gargoyle, the reference is probably the gargoyles of Notre Dame (Glorious Masquerade sneak lol) While Crowley is the usual raven statue found in NRC.

I feel like there's smth deep that I want to explain here that a cane (Crowley) is more about providing a support (a cane is for walking support essentially) while an umbrella is more about providing shelter, which is quite accurate for Malleus since he's a person who consistently protects rather than support.

That aside, other than the trench coat, the umbrella was the cutest surprise 😭✨I was so focused at thinking about his outfit that I forgot what should be his weapon for his clubwear alksdfd An umbrella is a genius idea 😭✨

I'm convinced its an umbrella rather than a parasol because Gargoyles are meant to work against rainstorms. So Malleus probably uses this umbrella to observe the gargoyle directing the rainwater on the drains.

When Malleus first introduced the gargoyles on his school uniform, it was a clear day, he couldnt demonstrate a gargoyle working "in action" to Silver.

It's pretty cute to think that Malleus likes to stroll around the rain so that he can see the gargoyles "working hard to protect the buildings from erosion." 😭✨💞

Funny thing is, when Malleus got rained on in Silk City, he used a barrier so he can easily go out in the rain without an umbrella, just his magical barrier is enough.

But I think, he insists on using this umbrella bcs the design feels like it has some meaning (for me lol). The outside of the umbrella is blank while the gargoyle design is on the inside. When it rains hard, and you can see the edges of the umbrella dripping with rainwater, it creates this vision that the gargoyles inside it are directing the rainwater on the ground which probably fascinates Malleus, its like this umbrella is a portable roof with gargoyles lol

I think there are only two gargoyles on his umbrella, they're both dragons i guess, but one looks sharper while the other one is softer in features.

idk who this is supposed to mean, maybe its Meleanor and Levan- alkkfdklsfdlk

[a-killer-obsession]

OKAY I DID IT, I FIGURED OUT THE LAYOUT

Disclaimer: it seems like the size of the ship changes every time we see it, but the newest eps vs wano seem pretty consistent so I went with that and used Wire's height for scale

Floor layouts under the cut ✂️

Edit: you can find clearer/more detailed versions here

Layout based on the 31 member crew that Oda confirmed. I also took in to account that a significant portion of the members are fucking massive, so everything is bigger which matches the scale it's drawn in. Floors are approx 5m high with 2m wide doors in most places, which makes sense when a good portion of the crew are 3m tall.

Sorry about my handwritting lmao I'm so tired but I have serious brainworms and couldn't sleep

The specifics:

Kid's Floor

Of course he has his own floor

Quarters include his own private dining space which I imagine would also include a workdesk, bedroom with king sized bed and probably a couch, walk in closet, and bathroom definitely large enough for a massive tub

Workshop also has bathroom entrance for when he's feelin lazy

Ladder space in the middle goes straight through, this is so crew going to the castle deck don't access his floor

Commander's floor

Heat, Wire and Killer have their own rooms and a private lounge just for them and Kid

Heat and Wire share a large bathroom, definitely big enough for normal bath

Heat and Killer have king sized beds, Wire's bed is almost as wide as a king but mostly it's made especially long

Small decking that runs the whole way around, unspoken rule that crew aren't allowed there since windows peer into commander's rooms

Killer could probably fit a drumkit in his room 👀

Cannon Deck

We get peeks of this in the anime and in Oda's notes but they're fuzzy so I just did my best

Made a mistake tho, cannon platform should be whole way around back like a U shape to account for 3 cannons facing backwards, total 9 cannons

Theoretically this is where the helm should be so uh that's where I put it

Screenshots make it look like they also store a lot of other weapons here

Main deck

Forecastle includes navigation room with bookcases, central table, and desk for paperwork

Forecastle also has infirmary with two longer than normal beds to account for larger crewmates, and a desk for crew doctor to keep notes

Door between nav and infirmary cos Kid is lazy

Kitchen and pantry. Given the rooms are 5m from floor to ceiling I imagine that pantry would have a small mezzanine accessed by a ladder to take advantage of vertical space (and would be a sick place to nap)

Galley/dining hall contains 3 bench style tables, seating 10 large crewmates each, with one extra fancy chair at the end of one for Kid

Lower deck

Did my best to do some math to figure out how many larger than normal beds were required and decided on 6 bunks for 12 larger crewmates

Additional rooms for average sized crewmates include 4 rooms with 2 bunks each, and one room with 1 bunk, making for a total of 30 beds below deck. That means, counting the commanders for the 31, there are currently 3 empty beds, so a few rooms aren't complete full

Probably looks like fuck all space but its actually significant for a ship living quarters

According to google you only need 1 toilet per 10 people and 1 shower per 40 but that seems like BS. Bathroom has 4 large, accessible sized toilets, 4 showers, long benches down the center and a long counter with plenty of space and mirrors for makeup, given how many crewmates wear it

Also, storage room. Could be converted to extra room for another bunk

Hold

Access via ladder

4 cells. No toilets, you get a bucket ✌️ tbh might not even have beds but there's room for em anyway

Desk in case they need to keep an eye on prisoners

3 storage rooms, but i think one of these would actually be a torture room. Probably the one by the desk.

Mechanisms for power and water are probably in one of these rooms as well as a lot of materials for ship repairs

Also of note

Crows nest is definitely big enough for a bench, definitely big enough for... activities. Not as big as the Sunny's though I dont think a gym would fit, I think it'd be more likely that gym equipment is kept on the cannon deck

Idk if the mizzenmast is supposed to go all the way through but that physically can't happen with where the helm needs to be based on screenshots so ✌️

Crows nests are definitely access via climbing nets

Please absolutely feel free to use this as a reference for fanfictions, but I'd appreciate a shout out if you do 💖

[maybaankk]

⠀ roses n thorns ⠀⠀﹒⠀　a.h x reader

this work includes / may include : rossi!reader, age gap (8 years), reader was born in 1979, aaron was born in 1971, reader is heavily italian, reader works at the bau, angst, rude!aaron because hes a sucker and doesnt know how to come to terms that he likes Y/N, fluff at the end, canon typical violence, fem!afab reader, reader is literally a ball of sunshine, religion mentions.

summary : when Y/N Rossi joins the bau at the recommendation of her father; aaron hotchner cant possibly see past the fact that she is far too happy to be in this field.

wc: 11.2k

The first thing aaron hotchner notices about Y/N is the smile plastered on her face and the box of canolis’ in her hands as she greets her new coworkers; he stares from his office window, arms crossed over his chest.

When the girl makes a b-line for his office a heavy grumble leaves his chest, he expects her to barge right in, but instead; she knocks and waits there patiently, holding the box of canolis’ in her hands.

He answers the door and she looks up to meet his gaze, that same sickly sweet smile plastered on her face, it makes his stomach turn and his chest feels like thousands of thorns are encircling it; he had only ever felt this way about Haley, and that was when he was in private school.

“Ah! SSA Hotchner right? my father said you’re the boss of this place.. he also told me that you like his canoli recipe.. so i uh, prepared a box of them last night” She smiles, and he can recognise that heavy twinge of italian in her voice, much like he can her fathers.

“Yes. That’s me, and you’re Y/N Rossi, correct?” He grumbles, and she notices how uncomfortable he looks, her brain flooding with thoughts before she stops herself; she’s not even been in the building an hour and she’s already accidentally profiled her new boss.

“Yes sir, that’s me.. where should i place these?” She squeaks, almost nervously, the confidence she once carried herself with dissipating into nothing, the smile also dropping from her face, in exchange for a nervous bite of her lip.

“The break room fridge, agent. it’s down the mezzanine to the left.” His arms still crossed over his chest, his eyes scanning the woman in front of him; watching as she walks away.

“Thankyou sir, i’ll be on my way now, goodbye” She mutters, and he could wear he heard her voice crack as she left.

He starts to feel bad, but he can’t place his finger on why, but when you leave, the thorns in his chest slowly unwind themself, and he’s at ease once more.

In the roundtable room, you take your seat inbetween your father and your newfound friend Emily Prentiss, you engage in friendly chatter as everyone filters in; and eventually the brightly and beautifully dressed tech analyst, Penelope takes the remote, clicking it to show the photos of 4 men, all without their eyes and a cross carved into their left thighs.

“These men were found in alleyways all over arkansas last week; the local PD didn’t think much of it until they got.. this letter” She pauses before a note on worn lined paper flashes up, an intricate rose stamped onto it.

You speak up, gesturing to the crosses on the men’s thighs; your father looking at you approvingly; “Those aren’t christian crosses.. they’re upside down those are petrine crosses, more recently dubbed the saint peters cross, it’s possible the killer believes he’s not high enough next to god to carve a christian cross; as peter crucified himself upside down because he believed he wasn’t as worthy as jesus..”

Hotch only stares as Spencer nods at youe statement, chiming in “Y/N is correct; he may believe that these killings are for god, and that they’re messages.”

And then penelope shows something else on screen; “Well.. it gets so much worse, my religious geniuses, because their eyes were found near them with bronze chains next to them..”

Hotch finally pipes up, asking the table for input and he rolls his eyes when you pipe up again.

“That’s similar to Jeremiah 39:7.. Zedekiah watched his sons be put to death and then his eyes were put out where he was bound with bronze chains and he was dragged to babylon..” You wince at the cold eyes of hotch as you look at Emily; she only shrugs her shoulders.

When you and Emily arrive at the latest crime scene of the victim, you lift the tape; stepping under it and holding it for your partner, you greet the local detective at the scene.

“Hello i’m Agent Y/N Rossi, and this is Agent Emily prentiss..” you smile, though it’s not as bright as the ones you extended to your coworkers, afterall you’re at the resting place of a victim.

“Detective Peter Warner, Fayetteville PD.” The slightly shorter man speaks as he shakes your hand.

“Do you know anything about who found the body, and when? we weren’t briefed on that..” Emily asks, and you nod, crouching down at one of the evidence cards, shifting one of the bronze chains, your eyes widening.

“Emily! cmere look, theres.. theres a- oh holy fuck!!” You jump when you realise what you had touched was a slab of skin, specifically with a rose tattoo on it.

“What?! oh what the.. is that the victims skin??” She crouches next to you, picking up the dirt and pebble covered flesh in her hands.

“Yeah- it it’s.. wait a second; let me call up the office real quick..” You mutter, stepping back to make a call as emily requests an ice bag.

“This is SSA Derek morgan, what’s poppin’ sweetcheeks?” His voice rings out, and you roll your eyes softly.

“Ha-ha Derek.. anyway, do you know if any slices of flesh where found at the crime scene.. or if any of the victims had rose tattoos?” You ask, looking back as Emily holds up the bag with the flesh in, you grimace.

“Uhh.. yeah; they all had rose tattoos.. why’d ya ask?” Derek chimes over the phone, you can hear the chatter of the department over the phone.

“Well me and Emily just found a piece of flesh from the victim, with a rose tattoo on it.. i believe this might mean something to the unsub, maybe something religious again.. we’ll be back at the station soon” You walk back over to Emily, sighing softly as you get back into the SUV.

Back at the station you lean over the files, biting your lip softly; staring at the tattoos of the victims, all cut off with a razor blade.

“Hey, papa can you come over here for a second?” You call out to your father, and it feels like recently everywhere your father goes that pertains to you and the case, Hotch follows.

“Which bible verse was about roses and brides.. was it Song of Solomon 2:1-2?” You mutter softly, tapping the end of your pen on your lip.

“Why yes Picolla Mia; it does.. the bride replies-”

“I am the rose of Sharon and lily of the valley..” You cut him off, immediately dialling up Penleope; your brows knitted together tightly as you exhale.

“Office of Unfettered Omniscience. Penelope Garcia is in. Speak, oh fortunate one.” Penelope Answers, and a small giggle escapes your mouth.

“Hiya penny it’s Y/N.. can you search the names of the wives of all four men for me?” You speak, hearing her hum in approval.

“Sunshine, I can run marriage certificates from here and still participate in simultaneous Tetris tournaments.” She hums, you snicker again.

“Okay.. are any of them named Sharon and Lily?” You ask, and Garcia gasps.

“Oh my god what a freaky coincidence.. yes- All of them are named Sharon and lily..” She sounds scared, and you look at the brooding figure of your boss behind you.

“and where they married for number’s with 1 & 2 in them?” Your voice quavers softly, writing it down quickly in your cursive handwriting.

“yes.. victim one- Hector Mariposa was married to Sharon Mariposa for 21 years.. victim two- Nikita Ivan was married to Lily Ivan for 12 years.. victim three- vitores fausto was married to Sharon Lily Fausto for 1 and 2 months at his time of death. and victim four- Abram Katz, to his wife Lily for 12 years..” She sounds like shes going to puke.

After 6 more gruellingly tension, religious and gore filled days you finally caught the unsub, Brian Vitores; a schizophrenic tattoo artist and ordained officiant.

He would tattoo the men he killed, and them weasel his way into the lives, and he had in turn ended up officiating their weddings, because he was close to them; at first it was a coincidence they all had rose tattoos and wives named Sharon and Lily, and their dates contained the numbers 1 and 2.

But when his religious psychosis began, he believed he should kill them for god, because only god would bless them with such wives.

On the plane back home, you slumped into your seat, staring at the roof as you hear Hotch over the other side of the plane, you frown softly as he seems so free and happy with the others.

You stand and pour yourself a glass of red wine, sitting back in your seat as you sip on it, starting to read your book with your headphones in.

And before you knew it, you had landed; you pick up your bags, but not before Hotch stops you, you look up at him, not with the same smile you once had during your first encounter.

“Agent Y/N, we need to talk about your workplace condcut. you cannot be laughing during such a serious moment, especially not in the middle of the station.” He says to you, and you feel tears well in your eyes, you dab them away subtly.

“Yes sir, I apologise.” You speak solomnly, and you push past him, walking to your car in the parking lot, quickly sliding into the seat, turning it on and beginning the drive home.

In your head you can’t tell yourself why your boss seems to dislike you so much, you can feel your phone buzzing in the cup holder, it’s JJ.

“Hiya JJ- i’m on my way home, what’s wrong?” You sigh, pulling up into the driveway of your home, locking your car as you sit and talk to JJ.

“We were going to invite you out for drinks, me and rest of the team but we couldn’t find you anywhere.. are you okay?” She asks, her voice concerned and confused.

“Y-yeah.. i just, had a bad encounter with Hotch on the plain, he uhm. doesn’t seem to like me all too much.” You whimper, tears smudging your mascara down your face.

“Yeah.. me, em and spence noticed that, i’m not sure what he’s doing at all.. i’m so sorry girl..” She say’s empathetically.

“I don’t know either, but he got quite angry that i laughed at how penelope answers her phone so i just left without a word..”

At your fathers house, it’s a pasta night and everyone from the BAU is gathered in the kitchen, you however already know how to cook this meal, and so you’re upstairs getting ready for the night.

You walk down the stairs, adorned in your designer attire, your hair curled, everyone’s eyes land on you as you pad over to stand next to Penleope.

By the time everyone has finished the pasta and a the glasses of whiskey and wine are flowing, you can only fees his eyes on you, and by his you mean aaron.

Being followed to the bathroom and cornered by him was also not on tonights bingo card but here he is, cornering you in a hallway.

“Listen Y/N you’re driving me crazy and i- i wanted to apologise for how horrible i’ve been toward you..” he mutters, his big hands moving to yours.

“It’s quite alright sir-” You mutter, desperately avoiding the eye contact he’s trying to engage in.

“Please, call me aaron..” He speaks, his voice softer now, he squeezes your hand gently too.

“I haven’t felt this way since i was a dumb teenager in private school.. and by this way i mean that i like you, Y/N Rossi.” He blurts out, and that makes you look at him now.

“I- i’m inclined to say i like you too, aaron.. you’re extremely handsome..” you admit, blush coating your face in a deep red tone.

“If you’ll allow me.. i’d like to take you on a date soon.. possibly wednesday, next week.” Aaron speaks, now holding your waist, his hands bigger than your waist by a long shot.

“Yes- i’d love to go on a date with you, Aaron.. wednesday sounds perfect.” You smile, and then it was set, you figured out why your boss hated you, he didn’t, he was just lovesick and confused.

Authors note: Hello my lovelies, this is my second fanfic in two days.. i’m finally out of writers block; so here’s something for my coworker enemies to lovers fans and my aaron fans :3

[alastor-simp]

Why? - Alastor X Powerful Fem Overlord Reader Part 1

❥Summary:The war with the Heaven was about to begin. The residents of the hotel plus the cannibal colony were ready. Alastor was at the ready, microphone stand in hand, as his eyes targeted his next prey, Adam.

❥Tags: Powerful overlord, Alastor vs Adam, Hazbin Hotel episode 8, spoilers, The Show Must Go On, Grim Reaper Demon, Death Demon, Adam is an a✪✪hole, Hell vs Heaven, Alastor fights adam. Reader is dark and mysterious, Hazbin Hotel Extermination.

❥Notes: This series is probably going to be 2 or 3 parts. I will decide later on. This is also going to my take on how episode 8 was, so don't be confused if some parts are different. Enjoy:)

*Character Background*

Y/N or Overlord name "Raven" is a grim reaper demon, and the only one that existed in Hell. She was human when she lived and worked in a morgue, until she was murdered heading back from work. Her body is shrouded in darkness, resembling a cloak. Her face resembles a skull, yet she still maintains her feminine appearance from when she was alive. She appears very dark and mysterious, but she is a kind soul and only acts when provoked. Her powers extend to necromancy, darkness manipulation, telekinesis, soul manipulation, and immortality. Similar to a grim reaper, her weapon is a large scythe. Her reasons for coming to the hotel were still unknown, but it appears she believes in redemption, as through her time in hell, she is aware some demons have arrived in hell for reasons that don't qualify as sins, so she remains at the hotel and provides support. Everyone at the hotel was unsure about her, but they soon consider her part of the hotel as time went by, including a certain deer demon.

(Found on Pinterest, credit to original artists)

**The Night before the extermination day- Alastors POV**

Alastor is walking, hands folded behind his back as he moves across the hotel's mezzanine. His crimson eyes gaze down on the other inhabitants of the hotel. Charlie and the others are all chatting amongst themselves, laughing and cheering for whats to come tomorrow. "Ah, the celebratory night before a courageous last stand. It's been a surprising thrill to witness these wayward souls find connection. Almost makes one sentimental, eh, Niffty?" Alastor smiles widely, before his eyes turn to Niffty, who is sitting next to him, smiling sweetly. "I really like them, Alastor. They let me put on roach puppet shows without booing!" Alastor chuckles at that answer, before leaning against the bar of the mezzanine. "Ah, an enjoyable collective to be around. I admit one could get accustomed." Alastor hated to admit it, but he enjoyed everyone's company in the hotel. True, he did clash with some of them, specifically Vaggie, but he slowly grew attached to them, though he prefers that to be kept a secret. A small object was then placed on his head, causing him to look up a bit. Niffty had placed a roach flower crown on his head, smiling while dubbing him "King Roach." Alastor leaned back, laughing at Niffty's antics. "Oh, to understand your twisted little mind! Both him and Niffty then started to maniacally laugh together, and then slowly calming down. Niffty then jumped off and zipped closer to the others, to join in the celebration, leaving Alastor alone.

**Your POV**

"Not going to join them, Alastor?" a soft voice spoke behind Alastor, causing him to turn around. You were standing behind him, clock shrouding your body, but leaving your face to be seen. Your skull like face was drew into a soft smile. "Sadly not, my dear! I fear my presence would dampen the mood!" He saw you give a small chuckle, before walking next to him, copying his position of him leaning against the bar. "You sure about that? You are part of this group, Alastor. Besides, you always try to be the life of the party for things like this." Alastor laughed outloud, before leaning against the bar as well. "Aww, trying to flatter me, my dear?" Alastor leaned a hand on his cheek, smirking at you. You just smiled back at him, stating you were just speaking the truth, before turning your head down to gaze at the others. Alastor copied you, the both of you standing next to each other in silence. Alastor then turned to look at you, eyes widen a bit to see you wearing a melancholic expression. "Something troubling you, my dear?" One of his hands, placed itself on your shoulder, giving you a sense of comfort. "Sigh...I'm just worried for tomorrow. Yes, the angels can be hurt and killed, but I'm still worried. Not only that, Adam possesses strong angelic power, and I know he is bound to be highly troublesome during the fight." Alastor threw his head back in laughter, "There is no need to fret, my dear. I will personally fight that poor excuse for an angel myself." Alastors powers surged for a bit, thinking of how exciting it would be to sink his claws and teeth into Adam. Turning your head, you gave a worried look. "Will you be okay?"

Alastor turned his head back towards you, raising an eyebrow. He noticed the gentle expression you wore, and he gave you a soft smile back. He had gotten close with you after a few weeks of you being in the hotel. He knew the power you possessed, but you never flaunted it or used it for personal gain. The more he spent with you, is when he got to see that behind that cloak and darkness was a soft kind soul. "I will be fine, my dear! I am the radio demon, as you know. No pathetic little angel is going to get the better of me, I assure you." He gave a kind smile, without his teeth showing. You still wore a worried expression before giving a smile back. You extended your hand out to Alastor, causing him to tilt his head at you in confusion. "Gimme your hand." Alastor hesitated a bit, and extended his hand out, appearing as if he was trying to give a handshake. You chuckled and grab his hand, interweaving your fingers together. This caused Alastor to tense a bit, seemingly not use to stuff like this. "I know how strong you are Alastor. But, if worse comes to worst, I will be there to help you. I promise." Alastor felt a tightness in his chest after you said that, he couldn't quite figure out why. He was going to say something again, but you had blended with your shadow and disappeared, leaving him alone.

**Day of the Extermination- Alastor POV**

The fight between Heaven and Hell was about to commence. Everyone was gathered around the entrance of the hotel, wearing battle gear and holding weapons. A portal soon opened up in the sky, with Exorcists flying out of them, including Adam and Lute. Charlie and the other released a war-cry and began to battle the Angels. Alastor was standing on the roof of the hotel, smiling wickedly. "Let the slaughter begin. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Using his microphone, a large force field began to form around the hotel, providing protection for everyone, and preventing the angels from getting through. It was very effective in halting the angels advances as well as providing damage as the shield was able to sprout tentacles and kill some Exorcists. This, did not last long, as Adam as able to destroy the force field, allowing the hotel to be exposed once again.

Alastor glared at the Adam, as he saw him make his descent to the roof of the hotel and landing on it. "Adam! First man, next to die." Alastor continued to look on at Adam in front of him, looking unimpressed. Adam then asked who the fu✪✪ Alastor was. "Alastor. Pleasure to be meeting you, quite a pleasure. I'm about to end your fucking life." His microphone cane hit the ground, causing black tendrils to arise. Adam just snarked at Alastor: "Nice voice. Don't you know jazz is for PUSSIES!" Adam summons his guitar, and slashes away at the tentacles before approaching Alastor. Alastor stepped back, wagging his finger. "Ah ah ah!" Alastor was able to dodge Adams attacks, sending some of his tentacles at him. "You really think you can take me on? A mortal soul is no match for me, edge-lord." Adam yells back at Alastor. "You should know better than anyone what a soul can accomplish when they take charge of their own fate." Extending out his shadow, it formed a crack in the hotel roof, allowing one of Alastor's shadow monsters to punch him. Adam was now getting pissed off as he killed the shadow monster, with Alastor mocking his strength.

Adam kept swinging his guitar, with Alastor dodging them effectively. "You lack discipline, control, and worst-

His demon form had manifested, sending his shadow monsters to attack Adam and crawl all over him. Adam was sent flying upwards, as he stuttered on trying to insult Alastor back, making Alastor to laugh and swing him into the hotel sign with his tentacle "Ha ha ha! Poetry!" Adam was furious that he was getting bested by Alastor, swinging his guitar, causing a shockwave and yelling out, "I'm going to wipe that shit-eating grin off your face, CAUSE RADIO IS F✪✪✪ING DEAD!" Alastor looked around, surprised he was out of his demon form: "What just happened?" He then saw his microphone snapped in two, "Fuck!" Alastor then looked back up, then was sent flying back. Adam had managed to get closer, and swing his weapon at him, causing a large wound to form on Alastor's chest. Alastor was on his hands and knees, trying to get up, but failing to do so. Adam was much stronger then he realized. He needed to get out of there now, before Adam had the chance to hit him again. A heavy kick landed on his stomach, causing him to go flying back, and cough up some blood. Alastor leaned back, grasping on his chest to stop the wound, while staring at Adam with pure hatred in his eyes. "HAHAHA! Not so tough now, huh bit✪✪? Time to die!" Adam raised his guitar again ready to strike at Alastor again. Alastor was trying to manifest his powers to teleport, but he was far too weak! He shut his eyes, bracing for the impact. A loud CLANG was heard, causing Alastor to open his eyes, shocked to see you standing in front of him. Your large scythe was drawn, having swung against Adam's guitar, stopping the attack. "Get away from him!"

*TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 2**

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[hometoursandotherstuff]

Found an old post that hasn't sold - it's the Darth Vader House. It first went on the market in 2022. Since then, it's been alternately put up for rent and for sale, with no takers either way. Built in 1992 in Houston, TX the ultra modern style home has 4bds, 5ba, and priced at $3.75M.

Here's an aerial view of the main room.

In the sitting area there's an outline of neon.

The lighting changes color, so you can mix it up, trying different looks.

Off to the side, under the mezzanine, is a dining area.

The kitchen is in the middle and on the other side is the everyday dining area. Take special note of the floor- it has a sort of path all throughout the 1st level.

The kitchen has white counter tops w/jagged edges that resemble stone or ice.

Further down there's a counter to sit at. Do you see the jagged path on the floor?

Also, there's an informal seating area.

Here's a dangerous looking art feature. The lights also change color.

Toward the rear of the main floor, there's a home office in a separate room with a glass wall.

It also has a private entrance.

The main floor primary bedroom has doors to the patio and look at the "stairs."

The primary bedroom from above.

In the en-suite there's also an irregular tub surround.

The double staircases to the 2nd level.

View from the mezzanine that features glass barriers.

There's a sunny sitting room up here.

This bedroom has inner windows.

This bedroom is further down the hall.

And, this is the largest and most open room.

It's a suite that includes a separate sitting room.

I think that this could be the garage, b/c of the rubber flooring. Unless it's a rec room.

Here's the Darth Vader house with an ominous red glow.

There's a large lighted terrace on the 2nd level.

There's also a yard on the roof.

On the ground there's a large patio with a pool.

The home is on a .41 acre lot.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/3201-University-Blvd-Houston-TX-77005/27791943_zpid/?

[ckret2]

Chapter 36 of human Bill Cipher is on death row in the Mystery Shack and would rather not be, featuring: the author being pissed as hell after spending all day drawing eight pictures for a comic oh my god it really took all day, and then discovering that the Internet connection is so shitty the images won't upload, so y'all have to pretend that I included eight pictures here and cheer and clap and applaud for them.

Insert colorful pictures here. 💦 Use your imagination. 🚗 I'm so tired.

But more importantly: Mabel makes Bill do community service.

EDIT FEB 8: i finally got around to uploading the art lmao

I don't know why I thought all that effort was a good idea. Please appreciate the hell out of it.

####

Two blue- and orange-haired girls trailed after a pink-haired girl as she furiously stormed into the stark white control room. Each wore the same uniform—a skintight space suit with a pleated skirt and heart-shaped patches that matched their hair colors on their sleeves—but the pink-haired girl had taken off her helmet and ripped the patches off her sleeves. "Please, Momoko-chan," the blue-haired girl said, "don't do it. What if you make the director angry—?"

"That devil can't feel a human emotion like that," Momoko snapped, making the blue-haired girl gasp in horror. "I've made up my mind, Aoko-chan! Are you joining me or not?"

Aoko bit her lip, pressing one hand worriedly over her chest. "I can't."

"What about you, Orenjiko-chan?"

The orange-haired girl shook her head, her curly corkscrew locks bouncing inside her helmet.

"Fine! Then I'll just do it myself." Momoko stomped into the aisle between the computer consoles and looked up at a shadowy figure at a desk, overseeing the control center from a mezzanine level high above. "Hey, Director!" She threw her heart-shaped patches to the ground. "I quit!"

The shadowy figure didn't flinch. A cold, emotionless voice said, "Is that so."

"I've had enough of your lies! You told me my anger was just me tapping into the righteous fury I needed to protect humanity—but it isn't! These battles are... doing something to me!" She held her hands in front of her face, watching as they trembled. "Every time I'm on the battlefield, my berserker rage keeps getting stronger and stronger. The last time I lost control, I turned on my own friends and nearly killed..." She looked guiltily at the cast on Aoko's broken arm. "I won't do it again. I want out."

"It's too late for that." The director leaned forward into the light. A small floppy-eared albino bunny in a navy blue suit sat on the desk, the reflection on its sunglasses hiding its cruel pink eyes, its fuzzy white paws pressed together in front of its face. "We made a deal, Momoko-chan. I gave you your wish, and you gave us your heart." A wall lit up behind the bunny, displaying a dozen glass terrariums. Each one contained a live, beating human heart. "The battery we replaced your heart with must be running low. You'll need to recharge it, whether you want to or not."

Momoko flinched. She reached into a breast pocket and pulled out a heart-shaped crystal on a chain like she was retrieving a pocket watch. It faintly glowed a hot pink, but even as she looked at it, it faded closer and closer to black.

She frowned and stuffed the crystal back in her pocket. "Then I want to trade back."

"What?!"

"My heart for my wish."

"You can't," the bunny said. "That wish is the only thing protecting your friends! If I reverse it—"

"That's just it," Momoko said. "When I made that wish, I thought my friends needed me to protect them! But now, having fought alongside them..." She looked to Aoko, and then Orenjiko. "I know the truth. And it's that they never needed me to save them! They were always strong enough to save themselves. I just needed to have faith in them."

Aoko's eyes watered up. Orenjiko said, "Oh, Momoko-chan—"

The bunny pounded a soft paw on its desk, calling the girls' attention back. "When will you learn, child! Once you've made a choice, there's no way to undo it! None of your mistakes will ever be erased—and no matter how you grovel, God will not forgive you! So will you die in shame like a worm? Or will you shoulder the burden of your sins and carry on into the future?"

The bunny sat back and looked at a photo in a cracked picture frame on its desk. It showed another bunny in an apron with big golden hoop earrings, holding a tinier bunny that was sucking on a pacifier. A tear rolled down the bunny's fuzzy cheek, hidden from the girls behind its paws.

"We must all live with the consequences of our choices," the bunny said. "Now you must live with yours."

Aoko and Orenjiko frowned and looked away from the bunny, afraid to meet their director's steely gaze. Even Momoko's scowl wavered with doubt.

The bunny adjusted its sunglasses, reasserting its cool, detached demeanor. "The next angel attack will reach Retro Tokyo at midnight. And if I'm not mistaken, you have less than 24 hours until your batteries run dry. You'll need to be in your cockpits to recharge them. You might as well fight."

Aoko's shoulders sagged in defeat. Orenjiko murmured, "Yes, sir." They meekly crept out of the control center.

Only Momoko remained, glaring up at the director. It glared down, unmoved. Momoko grit her teeth and growled at it.

"Enough foolishness. You know what you have to do," the bunny said. "Get in the Fukuin robot, Momoko."

"Dang it!" She stamped her foot with an angry grunt and trudged out of the room.

The shot closed in on the bunny's face as it murmured, "Someday, you'll understand," and then the screen went black. The words Neon Crisis Revelations Angry Cute Girl: Annihilation! Episode 23: The Dark Heart of the White Rabbit! flashed on screen as the ending theme played.

Soos said, "If you ask me, that's one of this season's best episodes. It's often forgotten for the lack of spectacular mecha combat Annihilation is known for, but I find the emotionally-driven episodes give me more to think about later, and we couldn't have gotten this kind of character development out of Momoko in a more action-packed episode. Plus, it gave Director Bunbun some much-needed depth. It doesn't excuse its actions, but it explains them."

"This is exactly why Bunbun's my favorite character," Melody said. "It feels so bad for its mistakes, but all it knows how to do is double down on them. I just wanna give it a hug."

"As much as you want Bunbun to stand down, it's clear why it thinks it can't. It's a textbook example of the sunk cost fallacy," Ford said thoughtfully.

As the episode credits played, Fiddleford leaned over to whisper to Ford, "I think I might've figured out a way to synthesize that paradox element we're needing."

"Did you? Fiddleford, that's amazing—"

"Don't get too excited just yet, I only might've figured it. Usually, I'd want to run a lot more calculations to confirm it—but considering the dire circumstances, we might just need to run the experiment and see what happens."

Ford stared at him. "Skipping calculations? Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

"Heh! You hush. It ain't dangerous, I just don't know if it'll work. We'll have to pull a fast one on the universe."

Ford was dying to know what that meant; but before he could ask, the credits ended and Momoko's voice actor perkily announced, "Next time on Neon Crisis Revelations Angry Cute Girl: Annihilation!"

A school exploded. A bright orange combat mech as tall as a skyscraper exploded. A steel grey warship exploded.

Director Bunbun's voice said, "Remember, Momoko, your true enemy isn't the angels, but entropy itself. We are fighting to save the universe from a cold grave. If God wants to kill us, we'll just have to kill God first!"

A giant one-eyed mechanical angel spread out four white-hot arms and six wings with metal feathers like enormous knives. It threw back its inhuman head and trumpeted toward the heavens. And then it exploded.

Tate pointed at the exploding angel, pointed at his father, and said, "Don't even think about it, Dad."

"I wasn't! I ain't got enough beards to run all them arms." Between episodes, Fiddleford hissed to Ford, "I'll explain tomorrow. Come over with Stanley and Soos. I'll need all y'all's help to pull this off."

Ford nodded. He'd have to tell Stan in the morning. He just hoped whatever Fiddleford had in mind would work.

####

As soon as the vending machine opened, Ford could hear Mabel in the living room: "Checkmate! You owe me a soda."

"That's what yooou thiiink," Bill said, voice sing-song. "Congratulations on cornering my king's body double."

"Aw, man! I hate when you do that."

"Good luck finding him amongst all my pawns!"

They were up this early? Ford had thought he'd have to wake the kids. (He'd hoped he would get to them before Bill was up.) He leaned into the living room to see what they were up to.

Bill and Mabel were sitting at the table, playing chess. He recognized some of Mabel's "fairy chess" pieces on the board. They were obviously well into their current game; each had claimed about half the other's pieces.

(It was eerie how much more Bill looked like Bill these days; he'd somehow found a top hat to add to his ensemble, and now when Ford saw him from behind—yellow hair blending into his yellow hoodie, with the eye on his hood laying flat on his back—for a split second, he nearly looked like himself again.)

Mabel waved. "Good morning, Grunkle Ford!" (Bill glanced back at Ford over his shoulder, and the illusion was shattered.) "You're up early!"

"Good morning. So are you." He nodded toward Bill with a disapproving frown. "You do know he cheats, right?"

Mabel gushed, "I know! It's so fun!"

"She's a worse cheat than I am," Bill announced proudly.

"It's not cheating when I do it, I'm a senator!" Mabel leaned across the table, snatched the top hat off Bill's head, and proudly set it on her own. "I can legalize anything I want!"

"Well oh-kay, Miss Senator." Bill stole the hat back. "We're still monarchists on this side of the board."

Ford took a few steps closer to inspect their game more closely. "Why are there sandwich cookies on the chessboard?"

Bill said, "Mabel's got the knights all cozy in the horse stable," he pointed at the "nest" Mabel had made by folding the bottom of her sweater up, "so I'm trying to coax mine back out with delicious treats."

"It'll never work!" Mabel crowed. "The horses are too cozy!"

"I'll get them eventually! Even the loneliest monkey goes to Wire Mother to feed!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Ford said, "He's referring to an important psychology experiment where baby monkeys were..." He caught sight of Bill's face, looking right at him and grinning oh so brightly, and mumbled, "Never mind." He cleared his throat. "Anyway—Mabel, when you've finished your game, could you head downstairs? I need to discuss something with you."

"Oh. Okay, sure," Mabel said, giving him a questioning look.

"How come?" Bill's exposed eye was locked onto Ford like a laser. "Is it about the Mysteries?"

The what? Before Ford could ask, Mabel quickly said, "I haven't told Bill anything about the Mysteries, I promise!" She winked at Ford.

Hmm. Ford looked at Bill and said coolly, "I don't think the Mysteries are any of your business, Cipher." He had no idea what game he'd just been roped into, but he was gratified by how quickly Bill scowled.

"I'll be back downstairs in a few minutes," Ford said; and then left to pass the same message on to Dipper and Stan.

####

Ford woke Dipper; told him, like he'd told Stan, not to go through the living room to reach the elevator so Bill wouldn't notice how many people were congregating downstairs; and then headed back down. Stan was out of bed by now, drinking coffee and still in his underwear as he spectated the chess game from the doorway. Stan nodded, "Morning."

"Morning." Ford paused to watch alongside him.

Over thirty years ago, Ford's chess games with Bill had been minor acts of psychological torture. In their first meeting, after flattering the dickens out of Ford's intelligence, Bill had set up a game of "interdimensional" chess; Ford had quickly figured out from Bill's moves that some rules of interdimensional chess were different from Earth's chess; and then, afraid of looking ignorant in front of this strange, friendly muse, Ford had decided to try to pick up the rules of interdimensional chess based on what Bill did rather than ask for an explanation.

The challenge of figuring out the new rules might have been fun, if he hadn't lived in fear of making a fool of himself in front of an interstellar angel. As it was, though, he constantly fell into traps he didn't know were there ("Rookie mistake, by using your bishop to check me you activated my wormhole!"); he never seemed to remember all the things the pieces could do ("Sure, I upgraded my queen to ricochet off the edges squares—I'm surprised you haven't yet!"); and more often than not, when he tried to emulate Bill's moves, Bill gently "reminded" him that it wasn't the right time or place for Ford to do that; and Ford, humiliated and sheepish, had "corrected" his error. He won rarely, but not often.

It took years for Ford to learn there was no such devil as "interdimensional chess." Bill had used the name as a ruse to make up whatever rules he wanted. And on top of that, Ford had it from several reliable sources that Bill wasn't even that good at chess.

Now here Bill was pulling the same con on Mabel with "fairy chess"—and when he tried to tell her it didn't matter that she'd taken out his (disguised) king because the queen was co-regent, she told him that her pieces had democratized and Bill couldn't win until he'd defeated all of them. He not only allowed her this rule; he actually seemed thrilled. Proud.

It was so different from the cordial, half-interested way he'd played chess with Ford.

Ford was sure Bill had just decided this was the best way to keep Mabel's attention; she would have seen secret rules as an unfair imbalance rather than a mental challenge, she had no doubt asked Bill to explain how "fairy chess" worked rather than stupidly tried to guess herself, and if she noticed her opponent was disinterested she'd probably lose interest too rather than try harder. Obviously, Bill had to handle Mabel differently than Ford.

But a small part of Ford wondered: if he'd ever looked Bill dead in the eye, moved a rook like it was a bishop, and confidently informed him that the board had slipped into a mirror universe—would Bill have laughed in delight and congratulated him on figuring out the game?

Stan nudged Ford. "Hey. You look like you could bite through a chair leg," he murmured. "Are you alright?"

Ford snapped, "No, of course I'm not."

Stan gave him a surprised look. "What?"

"What?" Ford shook his head. "Sorry—I misheard you. I thought you asked if I was jealous. Of course I'm not jealous; and yes, I'm alright." He cleared his throat. "What was I—? The study. Right." He clasped his hands behind his back and marched across the living room, nodded to Mabel as he passed, ignored Bill, and swept into the gift shop.

Stan stared after him, stared into the living room trying to figure out what the heck Ford could possibly be jealous over—Bill and Mabel were cracking up over a rook Mabel had turned upside-down and debating the mechanics of a reverse-gravity chess variant—then shook his head and headed back to the kitchen.

Mabel took out one of Bill's bishops and snuck two sandwich cookies off the board to eat without him noticing. He was only half focusing on the game now, distracted by the sound of the most beautiful word in the English language ringing in his head: jealous, jealous, jealous.

####

Stan was the first down, followed by Mabel—"Grunkle Ford, just so you know, I told Bill you gave me that clear pyramid because you inducted me into the Mysteries! He's been going cuckoo trying to find out what that means!"—and then Dipper, hair still disheveled from sleep. Ford nodded. "Good. Everyone's here."

"Great," Stan said, "now what's going on? What's with the whole cloak-and-dagger act?"

"Yesterday, Fiddleford informed me that he may be on the verge of a scientific breakthrough—but he needs some assistance. Stanley, he specifically said it's crucial that both of us and Soos help."

Stan groaned, rolling his eyes. "If this is another one of his cockamamie giant robots..." (Mabel laughed, "Cockamamie.")

"It isn't," Ford said seriously. "Soos is already prepared to go. But if the three of us are at the Northwest estate..."

Stan nodded in comprehension. "And Mrs. Ramirez is out visiting family today." He looked at Dipper and Mabel. "So it'll be just the two of you in the shack with the demon today."

Mabel nodded. Dipper frowned; he'd had an investigation he wanted to go on today. "So, this scientific breakthrough—is it...?"

Ford paused. "Too soon to tell. But, if everything goes stupendously well... it could be, yes."

"What are the odds of it going that well?" Stan asked.

"At a loose, uneducated guess? 20%. But I'd give only 20% odds that it will end in complete failure, too. Far more likely, what we do today will just bring us one step closer to... to." He shrugged. "To the end of everything."

There was a split second too long of silence as everyone tried not to look at Mabel to see how she took that. But she just nodded again.

Ford took in a deep breath and nodded. "So. Dipper, Mabel, you've got Soos's number in case of emergency," he said. "I know you've dealt with Bill yourselves a few times, but—are you both confident you can handle him entirely alone today?"

Stan laughed, breaking some of the tension in the room. "Of course they can handle him! Have you seen 'em? Mabel's got that monster doing anything she says!"

"Oh, come on," Mabel said, waving off the compliment but grinning. "I just get how he thinks, that's all."

"Yeah, and that makes you the only one!"

Dipper gritted his teeth. It stung that only Mabel was getting a vote of confidence—what, did they not think he could handle Bill, too? But he supposed he couldn't argue with it. Mabel was the expert on Bill. Dipper couldn't even have a full conversation with him without getting tangled up in weird haunting metaphors about caves and shadows.

Ford nudged Stan. "But they still need to keep their guard up around him." To Dipper and Mabel, he said, "Do not tell him we're gone, so he can't try to take advantage of the adults being missing. And don't leave him unsupervised. We should be back by dinner."

"Got it," Dipper said.

Mabel snapped off a salute and said, "You can count on us!"

####

Mabel burst into the living room, made a beeline for Bill lying down on the couch, and flung herself across his stomach. "Hey Bill! If you don't tell anyone that I told you that the adults are gone, I'll take you outside to do something fun!"

Bill grinned and tossed aside the Gold Chains For Old Men issue he'd picked up. "Deal!"

####

"This is such a bad idea," Dipper told Mabel as she collected buckets and towels. "You don't trust him that much, do you?"

"It's fine. We have an understanding now," Mabel said. "We speak the same language!"

Dipper grimaced. "I don't really think..."

From the entryway, Bill called, "Found the bracelets! They were hanging on the coat rack." He ducked into the kitchen, already wearing one half of the enchanted bracelets. "Ready?"

"Ready!" Mabel grabbed her half as she ran by, and they were out the door.

Dipper reluctantly followed.

####

On Summerween, some kids had gone at Stan's car with eggs, toilet paper, and—by the looks of the damage—probably also several rocks, keys, and the scratchiest branches they could find. Stan had already washed off what damage he could; but there were still some bits of egg stuck in the seams of the car, and the paint job was a tragic scraped-up disaster, capped off by the giant phrase "TRICK-OR-CHEATER" scratched across the driver's side doors.

Mabel led them to the car and set down her buckets. "Wait here, I've gotta get the hose."

Bill studied the contents of the buckets—cleaning brushes, towels, various liquid soaps. "So, what are we doing?" He emptied one bucket's supplies. "Adding to the damage?" He lifted the metal bucket over his head, prepared to throw it down on the car's hood.

"NOOO! BILL!"

He laughed, "I'm messing with you!" He set the bucket back down.

Mabel returned with a running hose and started filling the buckets. "Grunkle Stan was complaining about how hard it is to repair a classic car like this," she said. "So, I thought we could surprise him by fixing it while he's gone. And you can show everyone how much nicer you're getting by helping!"

"Aw, what?" Bill planted his hands on his hips. "You took me outside to do community service?"

"Bill." Mabel grabbed his arms. "I think it's really important that you show everyone how much nicer you're getting. Really."

Bill swallowed down the urge to scoff. "Sure—but by doing chores for Stan? I'll be nice, but I won't be boring."

"We can play with the hose, too!"

Bill thought that over. "Okay, I'm in." It was an opportunity to get some sunshine, at least.

"Good!" Mabel grinned evilly, lifted the hose, and sprayed it at Bill's face.

He ducked just in time for the stream to miss his head and knock off his hat (which Mabel had generously permitted Bill to hold onto, since she'd forgotten she owned it). He snatched up a brush and a towel like a sword and shield and backed away from Mabel. "Ha! You'll have to do better than that, kid! I can see every possible future branching out from this moment—you'll never land a surprise attack on me!"

"You can see the future, but can you see... this?" Mabel yanked on the hose. It pulled taut behind Bill's ankles.

He tripped, yelped, and landed on his back. "No," he said, staring at the sky. "Apparently I can't."

Mabel sprayed the hose in his face.

Within a couple of minutes, they were on opposite sides of the car, lobbing soggy soapy sponges and towels back and forth at each other—and, in the process, accidentally managing to get the car a tiny bit cleaner as their projectiles drizzled soap over it. Bill had thus far successfully dodged nearly all of Mabel's projectiles—his lower legs and sleeves were more soaked than the rest of him, and mainly from preparing his attacks—while Mabel was quickly drenched and accusing Bill of cheating. Waddles, who had been allowed outside (and, Bill noted, not required to wear a leash), elected not to join the battle, but was quite content to bask in the mud puddle expanding around the car.

And Dipper, meanwhile, sat on the porch, his journal open and ignored in his lap, glaring at Bill and Mabel, disapproving of this scene as hard as he could.

"Okay, truce!" Mabel shouted. "Time out! Pause! Sto—" A soaked towel landed on her face as Bill cackled. She pulled it off. "My bucket's empty, I've gotta refill it."

"You think I'd show mercy just for that?"

"Seriously, Bill!" She ran over to the porch with her bucket and hose.

"Coward!" Bill called; and then, bereft of any targets to attack, entertained himself by picking up a sponge and actually starting to clean the car.

Dipper leaned over toward Mabel. "This is such a bad idea," he muttered.

"No it's not, it's great. Look, he's already helping."

"I'm serious. His aim's getting too good, he could throw a bucket over the top of the car and knock you out or something—"

"But he won't," Mabel insisted.

"How do you know?"

"Because..." Mabel attempted to convey her knowledge by swinging her arms emphatically. "Because he won't, okay? Bill's gonna do community service today and nothing's gonna go wrong!"

Dipper glared toward Bill—just to see that he was looking straight at them, not even trying to hide that he was listening in. He flipped up his eye patch to wink at Dipper.

"Fine." Dipper slammed his journal shut and got to his feet. "But I'm not sticking around."

Mabel gave him a surprised look. "Dipper? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong!" Just Mabel thinking washing a car would make Bill worthy of coming off of death row—which meant she wasn't taking the threat he posed seriously. Which apparently she didn't need to, because she understood him so well—everyone said so—while Dipper, official junior paranormal investigator, somehow wasn't the one who understood the alien demon, and now Mabel kept spending all her free time around Bill because they got each other so well—but Dipper didn't care. Why would he care? There was like a 20% chance Bill could be dead by the end of the day. Which wasn't big, but it was something. "I just don't wanna sit around watching you wash the car, okay?"

"Oh," Mabel said, shifting awkwardly. "You could help out?"

"No he can't!" Bill yelled.

Dipper ground his teeth and tried to ignore him. "I've got other stuff to do. I have a paranormal investigation to go on. It's what I wanted to do today until we got stuck on triangle-sitting duty. So if you're so sure you've got the situation under control, I can just go ahead and do that anyway." Under his breath, he muttered, "I thought we could do it together, but if you'd rather hang out with Bill..."

Mabel bristled. "Well—fine, then! I do have it under control. Thanks for noticing." A tad guardedly, she asked, "So... what's today's big investigation?"

Dipper hesitated, trying to decide how irritated he really was; but if Mabel had extended an olive branch, so should he. He flipped through his journal. "You know about all the recent nighttime burglaries?" He showed Mabel a page where he'd glued a printed-out photo of a long-legged, armless, ghostlike creature, and next to it paperclipped an article cut out from the Gravity Falls Gossiper. "Something's been stealing jeans from every clothing store in town. Based on the surveillance footage, I bet that it's a mysterious, little-known creature called—"

"The Fremont Nightwigglers?" Bill cut in. "Yeah, this is about the time of year their migratory route should take them through Oregon. You oughta check the dumpsters in town. They flock in parking lots at night, but during the day they tend to nest together in half-empty dumpsters."

Dipper stared at Bill.

"You're welcome!" Bill said.

Dipper couldn't even enjoy a good old-fashioned monster hunt without Bill stealing half the thrill of discovery. "Great," Dipper grumbled. He'd better get out of here—before Bill also spoiled what planet the Nightwigglers were from. "I'll see you later, Mabel." He trudged off to find his bike, angrily kicking a patch of grass as he went.

Mabel watched him go, half considering chasing after him.

And then Bill very carefully lobbed a soaking sponge straight at the back of her head.

Mabel squealed—"Bill!"—and charged back into battle.

####

It took them the better part of the morning to finish washing the car—in part because the growing mud puddle kept undoing their work. When they were done, Mabel stepped back and announced, "Okay, great work! Now it's time for... part two! Covering up the scratches." She whipped out two aerosol cans, "With spray paint!" She rattled the cans like underwhelming maracas. 

"Whoa, and you didn't even bring me safety goggles?"

Mabel stared at him. "Since when do you use safety anything?"

"I'm just saying. I'm not sure I trust you wielding spray paint near me."

Mabel thought it was still too soon to be cracking jokes about anything that happened in the Fearamid; but she punched his arm and said, "You'll be fine as long as you don't try to kill me. Here!" She handed him a third can.

He accepted it and shook it up. (Mabel felt like he was just doing it to hear the little ball rattling, too.) "So what's the plan?"

"Grunkle Stan said usually, car dents are... hammered out? Somehow?"

Bill nodded. "Intriguingly counterintuitive."

"But I don't know how to do that," Mabel said. "But! I saw this great makeup tutorial that explains contouring! You use makeup a little lighter and darker than your skin to make fake shadows so your face looks like a different shape!" She held up her cans next to Bill's; his was as near to the same color as the car as Mabel could find, while the other two were a bit lighter and darker. "So I thought, maybe we can use different shades of red to contour the dents and make them disappear? If we spray the shadowy parts with light red and spray the pokey-outie parts with dark red?"

Bill looked at the car thoughtfully. "Yeah, that makes perfect sense! I mean, what's 'three-dimensional' vision anyway?" He set his can on the ground so he could hold his arms out, forming a rectangle between his thumbs and forefingers, framing the car in between like it was a picture. "It's just a two-dimensional view that you take on faith is three-dimensional, because your mind's learned that highlights and shadows are the curvature being revealed by sunlight!"

Mabel had never considered that her vision of the world was a 2D view that looked 3D; but she had taken a lot of art classes, and the first lesson of a new art class was always drawing a circle and carefully shading it in pencil so that it looked like shadows being cast on a ball, so she kinda sorta figured she got it. "Yeah! Exactly like that."

"So you're absolutely right: shadowing the highlights and highlighting the shadows will just cancel out that curvature and make it look perfectly flat," Bill said. "You're an art genius, Shooting Star. We'll have this car looking good as new in no time."

####

Thirty minutes later, they had a scratched, dented car covered in terrible-looking mismatched blobs of red. They actually made the dents stand out more.

Mabel and Bill surveyed their masterpiece silently.

"I've figured out our problem," Bill said. "We forgot to account for Earth's rotation. As the planet turns, the sun casts shadows at different angles, so the dents' shadows will look slightly different."

"Ah. Yeah," Mabel said. "That's gotta be it."

"When I take over this town again, I'll freeze time and we can paint this thing properly."

Mabel wondered if there was a way to briefly freeze time with the time tape they'd confiscated, before quickly remembering exactly what she'd been trying to do when she'd started Weirdmageddon in the first place. "Let's come up with a plan that doesn't involve messing with the fabric of spacetime."

"Hm." Bill planted his hands on his hips thoughtfully. "I have a great idea. What if we cover up the dents with something cooler. Like—flames. Or lightning—"

Mabel gasped, "Or a wizard!"

Bill gave her a puzzled look. "Where are we going to find a wizard—? Oh, right, painting a wizard."

"Bill, that's perfect. We could give Grunkle Stan the airbrushed wizard van of his dreams!"

"Oooh. Oh yeah. I love that." Bill nodded appreciatively. "I've always thought Stanley was more of an 'airbrushed hot babe' guy, though."

"We can put a hot wizard babe on the other side," Mabel said. "And the wizard could be fighting a unicorn! Because that's awesome! And the unicorn probably deserves it. Grunkle Stan would totally fight a unicorn if he ever met one."

"I think we've got a plan."

They retrieved a wider variety of spray paint cans from inside the shack. Mabel took over the majority of the art duties—she was the only one of the two of them who could draw wizards or unicorns—and she left the little details (stars and lasers and so forth) to Bill. He got sidetracked several times drawing multiple copies of his own face around the battle scene, until Mabel pointed out Stan would get arrested driving around with those so they'd just have to cover them up.

Mabel had finished the first mural and was working on the hot wizard babe (it was riding a dolphin) when Bill called from the other side of the car, "Head's up, we're out of orange."

"That's the fourth color you've run out of. What are you doing?" Mabel circled around to the other side of the car to see his work. He'd added some graffiti across the windows in an alien alphabet—Mabel recognized some of the letters from when he'd left coded messages in Dipper's journal—and between the wizard and the unicorn...

Mabel wrinkled her nose. There was an immense multicolored blob stretching between the two figures, scribbled over multiple times in random patterns with every color they had. Well, now she knew why Bill was running out of colors. "Bill, what is that?"

"It's the wizard's magic rainbow laser! The one he's shooting at the unicorn."

"It's too many colors," Mabel said.

Bill gave her a shocked, deeply offended look. "Too many—? Who are you and what did you do with the real Mabel?"

"You can't use every color. For a laser like this, it's gotta be three or four colors."

"Unbelievable."

"And they need to be straight! If it's scribbled like that, it looks like a blob."

"It's more realistic that way! Wild magical powers don't go in a straight line—the more powerful it is, the more chaotic it gets!" Bill gestured insistently at the blob. "I'm doing a perspective thing, here—the colors layering over each other shows how they're all weaving together and wrapping around each other! See?"

Mabel studied the blob more closely. She shook her head. "Sorry Bill. It's just a mess."

Bill threw the empty orange can on the ground and flung his hands in the air. "I can't believe you of all people don't appreciate my art."

"The stars look nice," Mabel said. "And the alien text. It looks like magic wizard runes."

Bill grunted.

Maybe they needed a break. "I think we need to buy some replacement colors before we can finish," Mabel said.

"Yeah, sure," Bill said. "Pop open the car door for me, I can drive us to the hardware store—"

"Nope!" Mabel didn't trust him that much. "You're staying here. We'd get in too much trouble if anyone finds out I let you drive."

"You worry too much about getting in trouble," Bill said; but now that the conversation had moved on from the blob, he already sounded less irritated.

"Sorry, but you've gotta wait here while I get supplies. I'll just bike to the hardware store." She pointed at the house. "Back inside!"

Bill considered the command like he thought he had a choice in it; then nodded in approval. "Fine. Just help me get lunch outta the fridge before you go."

Surely he could find some way to entertain himself, all alone in the Mystery Shack, completely unsupervised.

####

(This chapter was a nonstop train of the most ridiculous scenes I could think of, I hope y'all enjoyed. If you did, I'd love a comment—some of my favorite jokes and character moments so far are in this chapter and I wanna know what y'all liked. Also after spending 9 hours on a comic my internet is too shitty for me to post I could really use some nice comments, thank you, I suffer so much for my art)

[famousinuniverse]

Immeuble Félix Potin, Paris, France: Building Built in 1904 by architect Paul Auscher, for the Félix Potin food company founded in 1844. That was the first store to be built of reinforced cement, the seven-storey building was built in the It was built in two years, and included the supply and supply stores. sale to the public, located in the two basements, on the ground floor and on the the mezzanine, with offices and living quarters above.. The 6th arrondissement of Paris is one of the 20 arrondissements of the capital city of France. Wikipedia

[leibal]

Union Street Residence is a minimal home located in Northcote, Australia, designed by Prior Barraclough. The Union Street Residence, an addition to a Northcote workers’ cottage, was designed for a retired couple seeking a smaller, city-centric home. The extension includes a ground floor kitchen, dining and living area, and a first-floor mezzanine study.

[mazarinememories]

About the Blog & the Author Behind It

The Blog:

This blog's primary focuses include: Star Trek (The Original Series and TOS films), the Spirk ship (Kirk/Spock), other variations of ships of the triumvirate (Spones, McKirk, and McSpirk), and anything regarding Leonard Nimoy, the actor who portrayed Spock in Star Trek: TOS.

The blog was created to showcase the blog author's creations and contributions to the Star Trek fandom (coming soon, I promise). It's also to record other important contributions to the fandom; such as artwork, fanfiction, music, zines, memes, edits, behind-the-scenes facts and photos, as well as TV show and movie screen caps and scenes.

The blog was first created on November 20, 2023, but not revamped until July 16, 2024 for the Star Trek fandom.

IMPORTANT NOTE: This blog occasionally features text and images that are NSFW, so minors be warned (you can still interact with me, but just be wary of any adult-themed content you might see on my blog). It's also not spoiler-free -- proceed with caution!

Reason for the URL:

Mazarine: being one of the names of the author of the blog, meaning "deep blue color".

Memories: the author has always had a fascination with psychology and memories. This is also a nod to the many decades of hard work, passion, and dedication from many of the cast, writers, filming crew, and fans who kept this series alive; the legacy of multiple forms of art left behind; and the inspiration of many people to pursue STEM careers and further the advancement of human society.

The words put together: the memories of the blog's author that give them a reason to live, to be strong, to be logical, to never give up despite the hardships of life, and to leave the world a better place than when they first entered it. The URL also has a nostalgic feel to it, as the series is a source of nostalgia for some.

The title:

Ad Astra Per Aspera is Latin for "through hardship to the stars". Not only is it a personal favorite motto of the blog's author, it's also a most fitting quote for Star Trek's philosophy.

Tag system:

#about mazarineasc: Anything about the author. ('About' on site.)

#mazzy's logs: The author's thoughts and experiences in the Trekkie fandom. ('Logs' on site.)

#mazzy's asks: Any asks sent to this blog or any asks the author sends to other blogs. ('Interactions' on site.)

#mazzy's oeuvre: Original work by Mazarine, including: fanart, fics, vids/edits, audio, etc. ('Oeuvre' on site.)

#mazzy's posts: Original posts by Mazarine. ('OG Posts' on site.)

And the author makes their entrance...

My name is Mazarine A.S.C. (Mazarine Alcine Severen-Cress). I also go by Mazz, Mazzy, Mazzy Star (like the band), and Masc. (Someone once called me 'Mezzanine' and I accept that too, I like Massive Attack.) I'm a fic writer as well as a fledgling vidder and archivist. I'm also an active participator of KiScon as well as their Discord server as of July 2024.

I'm 22 years old, genderfluid/nonbinary, and a certified lover of women and enbies. My preferred pronouns are they/them/theirs.

About my name: I chose this moniker to identify myself because I wanted a unique, debonair, gender-neutral name that had the same vibes as Yves Saint Laurent or Christian Dior (not that I shop those brands but it's to give you a good picture of what I was trying to go for).

The meanings of each name are as follows:

Mazarine: Deep blue color. Feminine and French origin. The hex code for the mazarine color is 273c76.

Alcine: Strong-willed. Gender-neutral and Greek origin. (I found it when trying to look for 'witchy' names.)

Severen: Stern, severe, austere. Masculine and Latin origin.

Cress: From atop of the hill. Gender-neutral and French origin.

I like to think that when the names are put together, it means: "The stern witch from atop the deep blue hill."

My profile picture is a cropped image of one of the pictures displayed in the New York Times article regarding the death of Leonard Nimoy. (Note: the article is paywalled.)

About Mazarine the Trekkie

How Mazarine Got Into Star Trek:

I was first introduced to Star Trek like many other people have been: their relative putting on a few episodes of The Original Series or The Next Generation on TV during childhood and watching in awe as the characters solved problems in a futuristic time on a weird and wonky planet and learning a lot about themselves along the way.

I didn't truly pursue an interest in Star Trek until 2020, however. But months before I started watching the series, I stumbled upon an interesting fanvid... that's right: "Closer". Because I had no clue what exactly it all meant ("What if they never returned to Vulcan in time?" and all the spicy clips of two men going at it), I was very confused, but fascinated! I was already quite interested in mlm and yaoi content and had harbored such interests for years before encountering that video. I didn't know at all that Kirk and Spock were shipped, let alone of how much of a legacy and impact it had left.

It wasn't until the night of September 1, 2020 (I theorize that's the exact date), that I started watching TOS. I'm someone who prefers to watch in release order because I believe that's the best way to understand a franchise. This was back when Netflix carried all of the Star Trek shows and movies. It was in the midst of the pandemic and I was starting college. I had plenty of time on my hands apart from online schooling and freelance work, so why not start watching shows and movies I had been meaning to try? I decided to start with Star Trek. I was in my living room and I found The Original Series, and selected the very first episode: "The Cage". I found it cerebral, but interesting; I kept watching despite how cheesy the 60s production value was.

Never in my life had I seen a single show from the 60s at that time, except for The Twilight Zone. The production style was completely new to me: it was colorful, the sounds were softer than today's TV shows, and it had so much more dialogue. It was engaging even for my bad attention span. The writing of the characters was so intricate and life-like, it was no wonder the show caused such a mania and cult following.

I mostly used it as background noise whenever I did work, chores, or creating art. I was still able to pick up what was going on thanks to the frequency of the show's dialogue. In time, Spock and his suave ways began to grow on me. I noticed the way Kirk and Spock interacted with each other and began taking a liking to their friendship. Eventually, I began shipping them a little bit.

One night, I was doing some scrapbooking and I had Star Trek on. Dr. McCoy was voicing his concerns about Spock to Captain Kirk and Nurse Chapel was running out of Spock's room while he was yelling at her. The Vulcan stormed out, and his face looked so angry. I snapped my head up from my journal and my eyes were instantly glued to the screen. Now this, I HAD to watch.

My art abandoned, I watched with great interest as Spock reluctantly explained to his commanding officer that he needed to take an early leave because of a fatal condition that came every seven years and could only be satiated via coitus. I gazed with anticipation as T'Pau approached, as T'Pring declared Kal-if-fee, and when Kirk was then made to battle his first officer and best friend to the death. I leered at the screen as they fought, their theatrical movements and bodies rolling in the sand putting me in a trance. Kirk's shirt tears in a place I had no idea I needed to see. I watched in horror as Spock eventually, and inevitably, delivered the final fatal blow.

"Well, what the fuck are they gonna do now? Kirk is dead!" I thought to myself.

T'Pau bade him Live Long and Prosper. Spock forlornly responded, "I shall do neither."

My heart palpitated with an indescribable feeling upon hearing that. In sickbay, Spock was about to relinquish his authority, then I smiled like an idiot as Kirk came up right behind him.

"Don't you think you better check with me first?"

"Captain... Jim!"

And thus, a trekkie is born.

I literally GASPED out loud, hands covering my mouth, eyes going wide as saucers. He smiled. He fucking smiled. And a real smile this time -- not one caused by drugs or one of those slight smiles of amusement! A real, motherfucking smile! Oh, it was beautiful. Thank you so much, Nimoy!

The episode concluded with McCoy's sarcastic remark, and I'm left sitting in my chair giggling like crazy. Spock became my favorite character that night; and Nimoy, my most favorite actor of all time.

A moment later, it hit me like a truck: the "Closer" video! My eyes went wide as I suddenly remembered the video and then I pieced the puzzle together.

"I ship it." I whispered happily to myself.

Then, came the falling down the rabbit hole: the 3 AM fanfiction readings, the hours of perusing Tumblr blogs, hunting down rare Star Trek paraphernalia, cosplaying, discovering KiScon, and eventually joining the KiScon Discord server and making a lot of wonderful friends there, on Twitter, and Tumblr. Now I'm here, writing this About Me page to pin at the top so you can groan at how long this is. Thanks for putting up with me.

The show gave me a sense of optimism during the heavy turmoil of 2020 as it did for those in the 60s. Like many others, it inspired me to get into STEM, so I changed my course of study years after starting college and began teaching myself statistics, programming, and medicine.

I love being a Trekkie. I love that the fandom still persists to this day despite it dwindling, but I thank the internet for keeping it alive and well and warmly welcoming new people with open arms. I enjoyed watching my brother get into Star Trek, and now we can't stop quoting the original films to each other. The impact it has even to this day is timeless and unreplicable. It's art in itself. Gene Roddenberry claimed he was no guru, but it doesn't take anything less than a genius to create what he did.

Favorites:

Character: Spock (TOS version)

Show in the series: The Original Series

Films: The Motion Picture, V: The Final Frontier

Favorite episodes: "Amok Time" (S2E1), "I, Mudd" (S2E8), "The Corbomite Maneuver" (S1E10), "The Menagerie" (S1E12/13), and "Assignment: Earth" (S2, E26)

Ship pairing: Spirk (Kirk x Spock, or K/S, or "The Premise")

Show tropes: the way Kirk looks at Spock, Spock and Bones bickering

Fanfic tropes: old married Spirk, pon farr, domestic life (living together in San Francisco or the flop in "The City on the Edge of Forever")

Quote: "Logic clearly dictates that the needs of the many far outweigh the needs of the few." "Or the one." "You are my superior officer. You are also my friend. I have been and always shall be yours." (The Wrath of Khan)

Scenes of all time: When Spock Realizes Kirk Isn't Dead, Spock Motivates Kirk to Take Command, Spock's Arrival on the Enterprise, This Simple Feeling, It Gives Me Emotional Security

Favorite fanart: I Shall Do Neither by Nox Zaiden

Favorite fanfiction: And Filled With Tomorrows by Android_And_Ale (Pairing: Kirk/Spock, Rated: E, Words: 5,886, Published: March 22, 2024)

About Mazarine Themselves:

Interests:

Star Trek: TOS

Wong Kar Wai films

Portishead (90s band formed in England)

60s gogo dancers

Geisha and maiko (Japanese culture)

Psychology and mental health

Art history

LGBTQIA+ history

Writing (poetry, plays, and fanfics)

Documentaries/docuseries of literally anything

Favorite Things:

Colors: mazarine blue, sky blue, indigo, lavender, mauve, jade green, seafoam green, ivory, black, and vermillion

Singers/Bands: Portishead, Fleetwoood Mac, Björk, Massive Attack, Mazzy Star, Röyksopp, Daft Punk, The Flaming Lips, David Bowie, Garbage, Nirvana, The xx

Song: "Glory Box" (Portishead, 1994)

Music Genres: house, trip-hop, electronica, jazz, classic rock, industrial, k-pop, alternative/indie, lofi, vaporwave, 60s garage rock, and anything 70s, 80s, and 90s.

Actors: Leonard Nimoy, Michelle Reis, Winona Ryder, Angelina Jolie, Lauren Bacall

Authors: Franz Kafka, Sylvia Plath, Margaret Atwood, V.E. Schwab, Oscar Wilde, Edgar Allen Poe

Films: Fallen Angels (Wong Kar Wai, 1995), Frances Ha (Noah Baumbach, 2013), 2001: A Space Odyssey (Stanley Kubrick, 1968), American Graffiti (George Lucas, 1973), World of Tomorrow (Don Hertzfeldt, 2015), Deathwatch (Vic Morrow, 1965)

TV Shows: Star Trek (TOS), Arrested Development, Parks and Rec, Nathan For You, Community, Better Call Saul, The Sopranos, Squid Game, The Good Place

Directors: Don Hertzfeldt, Wong Kar Wai

Art: Ballet Rehearsal on Stage (Edgar Degas, 1874), The Brooch. Eva Mudocci (Edvard Munch, 1903), Fireflies on the Water (Yayoi Kusama, 2002), Composition with Red, Blue, and Yellow (Piet Mondrian, 1930)

Interesting Facts About Me:

My astrological signs are Aries Sun, Pisces Moon, and Taurus Ascendant.

I'm an INTJ-T on the MBTI scale. (I know the history of it, but I still found it interesting.)

My ancestral research has linked me to Irish and Scottish druids, as well as Nordic vikings. It's quite funny, because their blood now resides in an anxious shut-in obsessed with a fictional show.

My hobbies include writing, poetry, journaling (regular journaling and bullet journaling), listening to music, learning languages (currently Japanese, Mandarin, and Arabic), collecting CDs, reading fanfiction, doodling, and people-watching.

My ultimate goals in life: to become a psychiatrist, a published author, a playwright; to live in Massachusetts, travel the world, and see every Star Trek show and film.

I'm older Gen Z, born in 2002.

I have maladaptive daydreaming disorder (MDD).

I own a first edition copy of Killing Time by Della Van Hise and a signed copy of Leonard Nimoy's autobiography I Am Spock.

My Socials:

Linktree

Discord: mazarinememories (Please, feel free to friend me there! I love making new Trekkie friends and just any new friends in general. I think I'm pretty cool.)

Email (for artistic inquiries): mazarine.asc @ gmail.com

By all means, friends: be well to each other. Live long, and prosper.

Ad astra per aspera.

[techav]

Revisiting Wrap030 Disk Access

I have more ideas for projects than time or budget to work on them. Already this year I've gone completely through the design process for two new large homebrew projects that are currently too large for my project budget, plus a few small ones I never got around to ordering. So rather than spend more than I should taking on a new project, I decided to revisit an existing one.

It's been over a year since I last worked on the original Wrap030 project — my old stack-of-boards MC68030 system. Its current configuration includes the main board with CPU, ROM, RAM, UART, & glue logic; a hand-wired breakout board to add a second UART; a custom video output board; and a mezzanine board with FPU and provision for an IDE disk that is not yet working. It has been functional in this configuration since last February.

My goal for this project from the beginning was to build something capable of running a proper operating system, like Unix System V or Linux. To do that though, I'm going to need to get disk access working.

I had started on disk access, but didn't quite have it functional when I turned my focus to integrating all of boards into the single Wrap030-ATX motherboard. I had added IDE cycles to the CPLD on the mezzanine board, and had added a few rough drafts of disk functions to my ROM. I set the project aside when I realized my function for checking dish presence was reporting a disk was present when there wasn't one.

I have worked with IDE before — my original 68000 project had an IDE port on it. I had gotten that project to the point where I could read a sector of data from the disk, but never could wrap my head around how to actually navigate even a simple file system like FAT16. It was this code that I had adapted for Wrap030, so when it didn't work, I assumed it was a problem with my logic.

Turns out I had just inadvertently clobbered a register in the disk check function. The logic worked just fine. I was able to write a couple quick BASIC programs to read a sector of data and even run code from the boot sector.

My assembly function for reading data from disk however was still not working.

I tried rewriting it.

I tried rewriting it in C instead of assembly.

I tried again, and again, and again. I added delays and loops and print statements and everything I could think of. I scoured datasheets, read though all the different release versions of the ATA specification, ported code from other projects, looked at every example of reading from an IDE disk I could find.

No matter what I did, I always got the same result.

This did not make any sense. Reading from an IDE disk involves setting up the sector address, the number of sectors to transfer, sending a read command, and then reading the IDE data port 256 times per sector. Each time the data port is read, the disk will give another 16-bit word of data. But for some reason, all I was getting was the first word of data returned 256 times.

There is nothing in the specification to explain this.

I knew there was nothing wrong with my logic, because I could read the data just fine with my BASIC program or by manually poking the right addresses using the monitor. Maybe there was some edge case affecting timing when running in assembly, but even adding delay loops and print statements didn't have any effect.

I reached out for help. I got great feedback on my read functions and my timing and how IDE and CompactFlash cards worked, but still could not solve this problem.

But then @ZephyrZ80 noticed something —

I had shared my code and was explaining that I had added some extra NOP instructions to enforce minimum time between IDE access cycles in PIO-0 mode. At 25MHz with cache enabled, the 68030 can complete an instruction in as little as 80ns, so a few NOPs would ensure enough time elapsed between cycles.

With cache enabled.

… cache enabled.

… cache.

The 68030 has 256 bytes of data cache. My disk read function is running in a tight loop that only really hits a few addresses; not nearly enough to invalidate and flush the entire 256 bytes of cache. The CPU does have a cache inhibit signal to use with peripherals that return new data on subsequent access to the same address, but it turns out I was only asserting it when accessing the UART on the main board.

It's a simple enough hypothesis to test. When I initially added support in my ROM for enabling cache at startup, I included user functions for enabling and disabling cache.

… It was cache all along.

Now I need to add some way to inhibit cache while accessing the IDE port, and then I can move on to trying to use the disk for loading programs.

[synoddiane]

Books I read in 2024, and awards

This includes some but not all novellas and webfic, based on a vague sense of how booklike they felt to me. Webcomics, manga, and graphic novels aren't included, even when they're really long ones.

In chronological order of when I finished reading them (ordering them by when I started reading them would be fairly different):

China Mountain Zhang, by Maureen F. McHugh

Cleveland Quixotic, by Bavitz

Summer Fun, by Jeanne Thornton

We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves, by Karen Joy Fowler

The Feminine Mystique, by Betty Friedan

The Haunting of Hill House, by Shirley Jackson

The Summer Prince, by Alaya Dawn Johnson

The Unraveling, by Benjamin Rosenbaum

The Employees, by Olga Ravn

The Past Is Red, by Catherynne M. Valente

OKPsyche, by Alan DeNiro

We Have Always Lived in the Castle, by Shirley Jackson

The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System (volume 1), by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu

Trouble the Saints, by Alaya Dawn Johnson

The Gameshouse, by Claire North

Lyorn, by Steven Brust

Ethan of Athos, by Lois McMaster Bujold

Ella Minnow Pea, by Mark Dunn

The Two Doctors Górski, by Isaac R. Fellman

Her Voice Is a Backwards Record, by Ozy Brennan

The Box: How the Shipping Container Made the World Smaller and the World Economy Bigger, by Marc Levinson

Brothers in Arms, by Lois McMaster Bujold

The Mezzanine, by Nicholson Baker

Checkpoint, by Nicholson Baker

The Hands of the Emperor, by Victoria Goddard

Being Seen: One Deafblind Woman's Fight to End Ableism, by Elsa Sjunneson

A Psalm for the Wild-Built, by Becky Chambers

Lolita, by Vladimir Nabokov

Spinning Silver, by Naomi Novik

Derring-Do for Beginners, by Victoria Goddard

Pale Fire, by Vladimir Nabokov

House of Leaves, by Mark Z. Danielewski

The Wish List, by Eoin Colfer

The Memory Theater, by Karin Tidbeck

Tell Me I'm Worthless, by Alison Rumfitt

Three Eight One, by Aliya Whiteley

Bone Dance, by Emma Bull

Mirror Dance, by Lois McMaster Bujold

The Amulet of Samarkand, by Jonathan Stroud

Watership Down, by Richard Adams

Komarr, by Lois McMaster Bujold

A Civil Campaign, by Lois McMaster Bujold

Hexarchate Stories, by Yoon Ha Lee

Downbelow Station, by C.J. Cherryh

The Man in the High Castle, by Philip K. Dick

Awards:

Most Clone Shenanigans: Mirror Dance, by Lois McMaster Bujold Runner-up: Brothers in Arms, by Lois McMaster Bujold

Book I Most Obviously Should Have Read a Long Time Ago: House of Leaves, by Mark Z. Danielewski Runner-up: Pale Fire, by Vladimir Nabokov

Most Uses of the Opening of The Haunting of Hill House: Tell Me I'm Worthless, by Alison Rumfitt Runner-up: The Haunting of Hill House, by Shirley Jackson

Hardest to Recommend Without Spoiling It: We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves, by Karen Joy Fowler Runner-up: The Employees, by Olga Ravn

Most Constrained: Ella Minnow Pea, by Mark Dunn Runner-up: Three Eight One, by Aliya Whiteley

Best Mosaic Novel: China Mountain Zhang, by Maureen F. McHugh Runner-up: The Man in the High Castle, by Philip K. Dick

Most Serious About Games: The Gameshouse Runner-up: Hexarchate Stories, by Yoon Ha Lee

Best Weird Gender Planet: The Unraveling, by Benjamin Rosenbaum Runner-up: Ethan of Athos, by Lois McMaster Bujold

Most Fascinated with Containers: The Box: How the Shipping Container Made the World Smaller and the World Economy Bigger, by Marc Levinson Runner-up: The Mezzanine, by Nicholson Baker

There were so many strong candidates for Least Reliable Narrator that I was unable to pick any one of them out as the winner.

[pareidoliaonthemove]

A Little Revenge

It had been intended as an escape from whatever doom was poised over his head.

Snorkelling or diving, even doing an inspection of Tracy Island’s underwater environs in Thunderbird Four was Gordon’s favourite way to avoid irate brothers, or, god forbid, grandmother or sister. Once Scott and Dad had gotten over their reflexive panic of ‘Gordon’s in the ocean; sharks are in the ocean. Oh-mi-god, Gordon’s gonna be eaten by a shark’, Gordon had more or less been left to roam their marine backyard at will, provided he took a variety of safety equipment and checked in at regular intervals with John on Thunderbird Five.

So when Gordon had announced he was going to spend the morning snorkelling on the northern reef, he hadn’t expected anyone to join him.

That his companion was Virgil was of particular concern.

His immediate older brother was a competent diver (Gordon had made sure everyone was safe in the water), and he did take an interest in the marine environment – although it usually took the form of raiding whatever footage Gordon had taken on his explorations and inspections for inspiration for new paintings or music. So it wasn’t totally unprecedented.

What worried Gordon was the fact that a week earlier, he had … miscalculated a prank designed to loosen up Virgil’s nerves (which the man could have used as musical instrument – probably a cello, given his size). Instead of a cute little brightly coloured foam volcano fizzing cheerfully from a tiny paint tin, it had somehow fermented into a seemingly never-ending explosive geyser hurling massive globs of foam throughout the lounge. And given Virgil’s preferred perch on the mezzanine, the fountain had an extra height advantage. It managed to coat liberal portions of the photovoltaic glass ceiling, only to then rain down onto everything below.

Of course, Alan had quickly dobbed Gordon in, playing Judas to save his own scrawny neck, and Eos had happily provided the film evidence. John evidently busy reviewing footage to ensure his own possessions were prank free.

An alarmingly magenta hued Scott had informed Gordon that Gordon would personally clean up all traces of the mess, with his toothbrush and tongue if he made one – just one, Gordon! – sound of protest.

Virgil had contented himself with collecting up his ruined canvas and disappearing to parts unknown, leaving his ruined boots at the edge of the contamination. His clothes had appeared in the laundry with everyone else’s, but the man himself didn’t put in an appearance until breakfast the next morning.

And Gordon had been walking on eggshells ever since. It had taken three days, working around rescues, to restore the lounge to its original colour scheme, and hoping Scott’s inspection wouldn't include free climbing the rock walls to ensure that the portions of the rough-hewn mountain not visible from the ground levels were cleaned.

And Virgil hadn’t said a word.

Well, not about the incident.

Scott raged, Grandma lectured, John threatened, Alan ‘duded’, Kayo’s mere presence threatened Gordon to even think about putting a foot out of line and Brains was, inevitably, oblivious to the whole affair. While Virgil … carried on as if nothing had happened.

Gordon wasn’t fooled, as calm and easy-going as Virgil was, there was no way he was going to let what had happened go without extracting revenge.

And Virgil was of the school of thought that held that revenge should be swift and proportional to the crime. So for it to have been a week since the ‘incident’ with no payback … it was uncharacteristic. And worrying.

So to say Gordon was nervous was an understatement.

So if Gordon spent rather longer than usual checking over Virgil’s gear before they got in the small boat to head around to the north of the Island, it was understandable. After all, he was going to be on the exact opposite side of the island from the rest of his family, with the one person who was currently out for his blood.

Other than the Hood.

And the Mechanic – man, did he have a thing about wrecking Gordon’s pride and joy!

And not to forget Parker.

And Sherbet.

But Virgil didn’t have anything sinister – like, for instance a length of chain, a large anchor and gallons of fish guts and blood for tying up aquanauts and enticing sharks to eat them. Just his regulation snorkelling gear, and his large semi-robotic underwater camera.

Gordon relaxed slightly. Virgil had been fiddling with upgrades to the camera rig recently, and obviously wanted to test out his current pet project.

So it was a somewhat more relaxed Gordon that steered the little electric motorboat out of the boat-house cavern and around the island, mooring the aptly named ‘Squids Getaway’ to the buoy fifty metres out from the edge of the reef.

One last check over of their gear, a quick reminder of the plan for the dive, and a mandatory status report to John, and they were over the side and into the water.

Gordon immediately headed shorewards to the reef, while Virgil spent a minute fussing over his camera, but he soon overtook Gordon, hitching a ride on the rig as it zizzed along to commence the path Virgil had programmed into it.

Gordon quickly caught up, pride refusing to let a brother beat him in the water, especially when said brother cheated, but quickly lost himself in his inspection of the reef, and the census he had planned on conducting.

It all quickly settled comfortably, Virgil cruised idly among the corals, popping up to the surface to breathe more frequently that Gordon needed to. All that muscle mass his brother sported might be a godsend on a rescue, but it was a liability underwater. But he quickly descended again and resumed his consideration of the reef, carefully not touching anything.

Gordon kept an eye out for Virgil, as he knew Virgil was keeping an eye out for him. The only problem that seemed to be occurring was Virgil’s dratted camera seemed to be following him, bursting into his peripheral vision from behind him with an annoying frequency. As Virgil meandered closer to him, Gordon reached out to tap his shoulder and flourished his divers slate at him. “Keep camera clear. Nearly bumps into me,” scrawled on it.

Virgil peered at the slate, flushed and signed ‘Sorry’, before pulling up his control unit and tapping at buttons. The camera immediately altered course, heading out into deeper water, before circling back around to Virgil’s side.

Gordon signed back ‘Thanks’, and ‘Carry on’, before returning to his census of the reef’s inhabitants. At first, it seemed to be going well, but gradually Gordon noticed that the various reef fishes seemed less shy than normal. Gordon thought it was curious, but decided that the inhabitants of this section of reef had become accustomed to his presence – after all, he had been focusing on this particular sector lately.

But then the fishes seemed to be crowding him, swarming around his head, darting in at him and then back again. In and out, in and out, the waters around his face and head seemed to have become a marine merry-go-round, fish darted in at his head, backed off away, and then joined a cue to come back to what appeared to be designated points to dart back at his head.

Gordon frowned. This was feeding behaviour. But what were they eating?

Gordon twisted in the water, looking for something behind him, but there was nothing there, just the ever increasing school of various fish.

He didn’t see the hāpuku coming.

The meter-long fish lunged into the school, mouth agape, and engulfed a largish fish in the crowd. As the hāpuku continued on its way, it slid past Gordon’s nose, as he turned his head to identify the large block of movement in his peripheral vision. It’s powerful tail slapped the snorkel out of his mouth, sending it spiralling down towards the seafloor.

Gordon grabbed at it, missed, and kicked immediately up for the surface.

Virgil surfaced a couple of dozen feet from him, his camera rig bobbing up beside him. Gordon immediately struck out towards him, quickly covering the distance.

“Did you get that?! Tell me you got that!” Gordon’s excitement was palpable.

“The groper slapping you upside the head? Yeah, I got that.”

Gordon frowned. “New Zealand waters, Virg. It’s hāpuku, not groper. Or wreckfish.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Cultural sensitivity.”

Virgil blinked. “Oh. Right.” He frowned. “Has that happened before?”

“Lost my snorkel? Hundreds of times. You know I buy them by the crate.”

“No, all the fish …” Virgil gestured a circle around his head.

Gordon frowned. “No,” he admitted. “That was weird. That was feeding behaviour, but what were they eating?” He ran a hand through his hair in confusion.

And brought his hand back in front of his face, staring at the greasy yellow goo that liberally coated his fingers. “What?”

He brought his hand to his face and sniffed, then incredulously stuck his tongue out and licked at the substance.

“Is this … spray cheese?” Gordon stared at Virgil in perplexity. His other hand reached back, and encountered more of the same.

Virgil grinned, his camera rose higher in the water, and tilted upwards. A second later a jet of spray cheese shot at Gordon’s face, hitting him square between the eyes.

Gordon’s jaw dropped, and he was in danger of taking on a lungful of seawater.

Virgil smirked. “Yup.”

“You …”

“Yup.”

“The camera …”

“Yup.”

Gordon stared, treading water as gobs of spray cheese dripped off his face.

Virgil edged closer to him, and put extra energy into his treading water, lifting him higher out of the water to loom over Gordon, his eyebrows creased into an ominous frown.

“A little taste of what will happen to you if you ever – repeat ever – mess with my paints again, Gordon. Understand me?”

Gordon gulped. “Yes, Virgil. I understand perfectly.”

“Good.” Virgil smirked. “I think it’s time we went home, don’t you?”

Gordon nodded, his eyes wide as he stared at his immediate older brother. Damn, Virgil could be scary when he wanted to.

Gordon more than agreed he had to get home.

He had some booby traps to defuse.

Before Virgil went back into his studio.

Notes:

I saw a throwaway line somewhere about feeding reef fish with ‘cheez whiz’. A couple of days later I thought, I bet Gordon would stick that on someone’s hair. And then I thought again ...

The standard disclaimers, I do not own Thunderbirds, either the TOS or CGI Series. (Although I do own copies on DVD.)

I do not do this for money, but for my own (in)sanity and entertainment.