#no idea how “talking across dimensions and living out of phase with each other” would work within the context of infinity train's world

[br1ghtestlight]

these infinity train concepts being Real would have saved me </3

[anthropwashere]

deadfic: Bang Babies got nothin’ on the Ghost Kid

More deadfic for @goodintentionswipfest! There was a post circulating on here once upon a time riffing on how OP Danny is compared to regular superheroes, so here’s about 4k of a Static Shock/Danny Phantom crossover that didn’t end up going anywhere.

=

The first time they see him, he’s just a black and white streak that nearly knocks them both out of the sky.

“Who—what was that?” Static gapes once he’s regained his balance. Green data splashes across Gear’s visor, obscuring his own incredulous expression.

“No idea, but they just clocked 154 miles per hour.”

“Well the speed limit here is only 45. Wanna pull ‘em over?”

Gear snorts. “If we can catch ‘em, sure.”

But whoever or whatever it was is long gone. After a week with no other sightings of ‘Flash Noir’ as they call the stranger, they let it go. Whatever it is will turn up, or it won’t. So long as no one’s getting hurt by it, it’s not really their problem, right?

=

The second time they see him is a week after that, and he’s hovering over the school roof just… watching. Other people see him too, and they all point and stare at the figure all in stark black and white, a teenage boy from the waist up and a ribbon of black from the waist down. 

Virgil and Richie share a mutual look of relief. They’d started to think they’d imagined him, never mind what Backpack had recorded. But when they look up at the roof again the kid is gone.

=

The third time they see him, he’s just a black speck barely glimpsed in the streaky post-rain evening sky. They only realize it’s him—and that he’s there at all—because Backpack catches him on the edge of its radar. He’s too high up, way too high up. The air’s just too thin for normal people—or normal bang babies, for what that’s worth. They try to get as close as they can anyway, but he blinks out of existence long before they can make out any details.

=

The fourth time they see him, he’s got a minivan and a corolla balanced in each hand like gravity’s got better things to do than pay him any mind. He’s holding them by the bumpers. Gear promptly loses his mind trying to figure out the physics behind such a feat, so it’s only Static that sees the guy toss a grin their way as he sets the two vehicles down on a stretch of road aways away from the car accident he’d apparently saved them from joining.

The strange kid waves at the families he’d saved, then takes off before Static and Gear can get near him. Backpack helpfully informs Gear that this mysterious guy encroaching on their hero turf clocked 60 miles in two seconds flat.

=

The fifth time they see him, he’s waiting for them in the junkyard looking infuriatingly smug. Static and Gear gape, then jump for him. It’s been starting to feel like chasing a mirage, but this time the guy stays put.

“Relax,” he tells them with a laugh and a lazy grin. “I’m not a bad guy.”

This close they can see he’s not any older than they are. He’d look like any normal kid, except for the glowing green eyes and shock of white hair fluttering in a breeze that isn’t there. 

“Then why are you stalkin’ us?” Static challenges.

“I wouldn’t say ‘stalk,’” the guy replies, defensive. “I’ve just never seen any other superheroes before. I was curious, that’s all.”

“I guess you don’t watch the news much,” Gear says, unimpressed. “You can go a day without hearing about a super making headlines somewhere.”

The kid’s grin turns uneasy. “I’m, uh, not actually from around here. Superheroes are a bit thin on the ground, where I’m from.”

“And where’s that, the North Pole?” Static asks.

The kid rolls his eyes. “Through an interdimensional rift in space four blocks from here. Hang a right past the Lovecraft reference and straight on ‘til morning.”

Static and Gear share an exasperated look.

“Look, kid,” Gear begins heatedly, only to be cut off.

“Oh no, no fair. You guys look like you’re still in high school too, so cut it out with the ‘kid’ stuff. The name is Phantom.”

Gear huffs. “Fine, Phantom. Point is we appreciate the help. You’re doing good work. But the superhero thing’s dangerous. You can’t just, y’know, jump into it.”

As if the two of them hadn’t done just that. But, y’know. It felt right to warn the guy, at least.

“It’s not a matter of ‘if’ you’ll get hurt if you stick with it,” Static adds. “And, okay, you might be new in town, so maybe you don’t know, but the two of us have got Dakota covered just fine.”

Phantom rolls his eyes, bouncing into the air. Gravity really doesn’t pay him any mind at all. How does he fly? Telekinesis? He does it like he’s so used to it the switch from standing to hovering is as natural as breathing. “Trust me, this city’s a walk in the park compared to what I deal with. Forgive me for seeing a chance to lend a hand to a couple of kids who clearly needed the help.”

“Now wait a minute—”

He drifts higher. “Oh, and by the way, there’s a guy calling himself Hotstreak waiting for you on ice by the community center. You’re welcome.”

“Wait—!”

But he blinks out of sight just like his name would suggest he could. There’s a pause as they both stare stupidly at thin air, then Gear swears. “‘On ice?’ Don’t tell me he’s got ice powers too.”

Phantom does, in fact, have ice powers too. Talk about overkill.

=

The sixth time Phantom makes an appearance, Virgil Hawkins is eating dinner with his dad and sister. He happens to glance out the window only to see a pair of neon green eyes staring back at him. Virgil drops his glass, yelping when milk splashes his mostly empty plate and spills into his lap.

“What’s the matter with you?” His sister asks.

“Uh. I—nothing! Nothing at all! I just—remembered that I, uh. Book report! I left my book report at Richie’s and I need to go get it!”

“Can’t it wait until school tomorrow?” His dad asks.

“No—no, it can’t, because I, uh, I still need to type it up and—and it’s due first period!” 

He runs out of the kitchen and out the front door before either of them can yell at him to clean up the mess he’d made. He stands on the stoop, panting and trying not to panic, and Phantom swoops into view upside down with that smug grin on his face again.

“Well hey there, sparky,” he says.

Virgil thinks he maybe has a heart attack, a little bit, before he finds the strength to speak. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!” He yells in a furious stage whisper, grabbing the kid out of the air to drag him closer. “The first rule of superheroes is minding the secret identity thing, especially around family, and you just blew that right out of the water!”

Virgil’s hand goes briefly numb and Phantom slips out of his grasp. “I wouldn’t say ‘just,’” he replies, looking guilty.

Virgil’s gonna strangle him, he really is. “How long have you known who I am?”

“Wwwwwell, a couple weeks back I saw local heroes Static and Gear walk into an abandoned gas station and two normal teenagers walk out. I don’t know your real names and I didn’t know you lived here, I swear. I was just flying by and recognized your hair out of the corner of my eye. I swear,” he repeats hastily at Virgil’s murderous expression.

Virgil counts to five, then back down again, and is still just as pissed. “Fine. Okay. C’mon.”

He starts walking towards Richie’s house, because no way is he doing this on his own. Behind him Phantom asks, “Uh, where are you going?”

“We are going to R—Gear’s place. The three of us are gonna sort this out, and don’t you even think of pulling another one of your disappearing acts to get out of it!”

Phantom scoffs. “Oh yeah, because I’m so inconspicuous otherwise. Here, hold still.” He grabs Virgil’s shoulder and a chill washes over him. He startles, trying to pull away, but Phantom may as well have steel rebar for bones. Virgil looks down and yelps even louder than when he’d spilled milk all over himself; the ground has fallen away without even a rusty, trusty trash can lid underfoot. And speaking of feet, where are his feet?

“Augh, what? Whoa, no, let me go!”

“Quit squirming.”

Oh, no. He’s not getting the evil grunt orders fifty feet in the air. He grabs the hand he can’t see and sends a warning bolt. Phantom grunts, twitching. 

“Augh, easy sparky! Which way is Gear’s house?”

“How is this less inconspicuous you maniac? Put me down—and don’t drop me!”

“Oh, for—you’re invisible right now.” He looks up and there’s nobody above him, but he can hear Phantom all the same. “I pulled a disappearing act and brought you along. Seriously, man, I know I’ve been goofing off and setting you on edge, but I really didn’t mean to spy. You wanna talk to Gear about the blown cover thing—I really don’t know your names still, by the way—and I wanna come to an agreement.”

Virgil sighs. These bang babies all gotta stop being so crazy. But hey, at least this one doesn’t seem like he’s about to rob any banks. “Hang a right at this light.”

=

It is officially too weird to watch your own body reappear before your own eyes. Virgil shudders.

“First time with invisibility?” Phantom waggles his eyebrows. “How do you feel?”

“...Tingly. Warn me before you do that again, alright?”

“You just gave me blanket permission to do it again basically whenever, you realize that, right?” 

“Wh—I did not!”

Phantom rolls his eyes and phases through the roof. Seriously, there’s got to be a limit to how many spooky ooky poltergeist powers a guy can have, right? A moment later Virgil hears Richie yowling, and Phantom reappears with Richie in tow. He sets Richie down, gentle as you please, then promptly explodes.

Virgil recoils, blinking white light out of his vision. When he can see clearly again, Phantom is gone and there’s a regular teenager standing in his place, black-haired and fresh out of glowing green eyes. One forearm is bandaged from wrist to elbow.

“Wh-what?” Richie asks for the both of them.

The kid smiles, waving his uninjured hand. “Danny Fenton. It’s nice to see you without the visor.”

=

Turns out, Danny wasn’t kidding about being from a different dimension. He shows them the door he pops in and out of and everything. It’s an emergency exit of an old theater downtown, perfectly normal to Virgil’s eyes. Richie opens it. Rusty hinges squeal and Virgil can glimpse the vague suggestion of chairs in the dark.

“It only works if you’re focusing on the Ghost Zone,” Danny says.

“The what now?”

Richie shakes his head. “Oh no, no way. Please don’t tell me I’m talking to a dead guy.”

Danny laughs. “Nah, I’m basically as normal as either of you when I’m like this.”

Considering Virgil can do exactly as much damage as he can wearing his superhero gear, that’s not exactly comforting.

Danny nudges Richie aside, shuts the door and opens it up again. Just like that the theater’s interior is gone. There’s a hole in the world instead, bleeding radioactive green into the alleyway. There are hundreds—no, thousands—of violet doors floating in a green void that twists in dizzying shapes before his eyes. There’s no ground, no sky, it goes on forever in all directions.

“That—” Richie swallows. “That’s where you’re from?”

Danny shuts the door. Virgil tries to ignore the relief that makes jelly out of his knees, but dang, that really needed a better warning. “No, of course not. I’m from Earth, same as you. Just a, well, a slightly different one, I guess. A parallel one. That place is where ghosts come from. I only ended up here by mistake.”

“Take a left at the Lovecraft reference?” Virgil asks, rubbing his eyes. 

“Ha, pretty much. I was trying to escape the Lovecraft reference. That’s, uh, not what it’s name probably is? My friend Sam called it that and I can’t understand it, so, that’s kind of stuck. It’s got enough teeth to deserve being called ‘Lovecraft reference,’ anyway.”

“Sam?” Richie asks. “Is that someone else, uh, on your team?”

“It’s not really a team. She doesn’t have super powers or anything, if that’s what you mean.”

“That’s right, you said superheroes are thin on the ground where you’re from,” Virgil says. “So I guess it’s just you dealing with the big and toothy?” 

“Basically, yeah. Not a lot of opportunity to do what I did to get my powers.”

“What’d you—”

Danny holds up both hands. “Nope, nuh-uh. You’ve got your secrets, I’ve got mine.”

=

The seventh time they see Phantom, they finally see him in proper action. Ebon’s gang has struck a bank—Virgil’s big mouth and bad luck strikes a home run, as usual—and by the time Static and Gear arrive on the scene they’ve stolen a truck and are two blocks from the bank. Talon is flying overhead, keeping an eye out for cops or goody-good superheroes, while the rest of the gang’s inside.

They don’t stop to see who’s hurt. They’d passed an ambulance on the way, and it’s not like either of them are good for more than getting the injured to emergency care. They take chase, and the armored truck doesn’t make it another block before Gear’s knocked Talon out of the sky and Static has netted the truck in a web of electricity. It’s heavy though, too heavy for him to do more than keep its tires squealing in place and hoping Gear can gimmick up something to slow it down a little more. Ebon’s smart though. He’s not gonna pick a fight here, and Static will burn himself out long before the tires do.

“Gear!” He yells desperately.

“Working on it!”

But it’s Phantom that swoops in from nowhere, soaring down in front of the truck. He, impossibly, lifts the wheels off the street one-handed. It’s enough help to let Static focus his attention on popping the wheels off before releasing his net. He sinks to his knees, disc wobbling dangerously beneath him, catching his breath.

“I—hate—armored trucks,” he wheezes.

“Static!” Phantom calls out, startled, which means breaktime is over. He stretches his hand out and ties Shiv up with a nearby stop sign before he gets to his feet again. Phantom’s rushed off to help Gear with Talon who’s back in the air, which just leaves Ebon to Static.

Ebon slides out of the truck, an inky, glowering smear. “Who’s the new guy?”

“Friend from out of town. Why, you feelin’ like we’re not bondin’ like we used to?”

Ebon doesn’t reply, just slaps Static away. The air gets knocked out of him and he lands in a sprawl halfway down the street. Before he can recover he hears Talon scream. He slams his hands to his ears reflexively, but luckily she wasn’t aiming at him. Not so luckily, Gear and Phantom hit asphalt a few yards away.

“You okay?” Static calls out.

“I hate when she does that,” Gear complains too loudly, shaking his head like a dog and looking nauseous. Yeah, Static hates it too. He’d take getting slapped around by Ebon over having his hearing scrambled any day. 

Phantom springs up quicker than either of them, grinning madly. “She wants a screaming match, huh?” 

Gear looks as aggrieved as Static feels. “Do not tell me you can do that too.”

Phantom’s grin widens, eyes blazing, as Talon rejoins Ebon and Shiv at the armored truck. Shiv must’ve cut himself free of the stop sign at some point. Static makes a mental note to use two stop signs next time. The three of them are hauling bags out of the back, clearly planning on Ebon’s easy getaway trick to get at least some of the cash they’d stolen.

Static gets to his feet, zapping his disc underfoot again as he considers a half dozen strategies to take them out and not liking any of them. Ebon’s always been too slippery; it’s likely he’ll get away no matter what—

A hand claps down on his shoulder. 

“Stay behind me,” Phantom says.

“What are you—”

But there’s no time to finish asking what because Phantom takes a deep breath and wails. There’s waves of concentric neon green energy bursting from his mouth, radiating out and down to Ebon’s gang. The armored car, down two tires, goes shrieking and sparking down the street. Two parked cars follow after, their windows shattering, their frames buckling. Ebon, Talon, and Shiv don’t even have time to grab at their ears; they go down like bowling pins, and don’t get up again.

The click of Phantom’s teeth when he finally stops wailing seems awfully loud. Static feels like he just walked out of a concert he’d been too near the speakers at for; his ears are ringing, his hands and feet are tingling, and his chest hurts vaguely. He swallows, looks back at Gear who’s just shaking his head a little. He looks at Phantom; the kid’s got beads of green on his forehead and he’s breathing hard.

“Sorry,” his voice cracks a little, “That one’s kinda hard to put a lid on.”

=

After sorting out things with the police—which Phantom vanished for, literally—they invite him back to the gas station for what is, in essence, dinner and an interrogation. Richie declares he’s had enough surprises and Virgil agrees. So they stop to grab a couple of pizzas and manhandle Danny to the gas station. Danny lets himself be manhandled with no shortage of eye rolling.

“Sit,” Richie orders, shoving a paper plate laden with three slices of pepperoni into Danny’s hands. “Explain.”

Danny sits obediently, raising his eyebrows like he’s trying not to grin. “Uh, explain what?”

“You! Your ridiculous collection of powers, where you come from, why you’re not strutting around your weird parallel Earth or whatever as Grand High Emperor of—of everything!”

Danny can’t help the grin. Virgil’s hiding one behind a can of soda too though, so he can’t judge. “Grand High—what? Do you have one of those here?”

“Danny.”

“C’mon. We agreed on no details, didn’t we? This wouldn’t even be a conversation we’d have if you were the ones coming to my city.”

“We agreed to that when it seemed like you were just another souped up Bang Baby,” Virgil cuts in, “but this is getting ridiculous. I’m not sure I like the idea of Superman’s ghost charging through Dakota any time he feels like it, especially since supers tend to bring their problems along with ‘em.”

“If you want me gone, I’ll leave. I was just trying to give you guys a hand when things were slow in Am—my city.”

“We never asked your overpowered butt for help in the first place!” Richie snaps.

Danny opens his mouth to snap something back but his phone goes off instead. He glares at them both as he pulls it out of his jeans pocket, flipping it open. His eyes widen at whatever the text reads, he fires off a quick reply, then drops his uneaten pizza on the table. “Look, here I am, going. All right?”

“Trouble in paradise?” Virgil quips.

Danny ignores it, but stops halfway to the door to look back over his shoulder. His eyes are bright green, which Virgil’s learning means more trouble than it’s worth. “You know what? How about you come visit Amity Park with me?”

=

The Ghost Zone is just as dizzying as Static thought it would be, and in no time at all he’s hopelessly lost and he has a monster of a headache. It’s like he’d put his face right up against a neon sign no matter where he looks; just bright green smears and the odd clutter of purple doors. “Man, you sure you’re not lost?”

Phantom throws a grin over his shoulder. “Relax, I’ve done this plenty of times.”

“Is it even safe for, uh, regular people to be here?” Richie asks nervously. “I’m getting some bizarre readings here that Backpack can’t make heads or tails of. I feel like I should have nabbed a HAZMAT suit too.”

“My parents and friends have been in and out of the Ghost Zone dozens of times, and they’re totally fine.”

“Radiation poisoning can take decades to affect people,” Gear points out.

“Eh, so maybe they’ll glow in the dark or something twenty years from now. Ectology is kind of in its infancy. Anyway, we’re here.”

There’s a circular hole of swirling green, lighter than the fog around them and suspended in a solid looking riveted steel frame. Phantom holds up one hand to stop them, sticking his head through. “We’re good,” he says when he’s popped back out. “C’mon.”

Gear and Static share one last nervous look before following after.

They find themselves in some kind of high-tech basement done all out in sleek chrome, like a mad scientist’s lab out of a Saturday morning cartoon. There are beakers and flasks bubbling with syrupy neon green stuff, barrels with CAUTION stamped on the sides, and the kind of tables that wouldn’t look out of place in a flashy investigation show morgue. Static breaks out in goosebumps and can’t even pretend to play it off on it being a little chilly in here. 

“My parents built the Ghost Portal,” Phantom says, pointing back at the circle of green light still swirling behind them. “But I’m the one who made it work.”

Seeing the Portal on this side makes Gear’s breath hitch, and Static breathes out a stunned, “Whoa.” It’s an octagon framed by fat black and yellow caution stripes, easily fifteen feet in diameter. The Portal itself is identical to how it appeared on the Ghost Zone’s side, a constant dizzying swirl of toxic greens staining the enormous lab like some kind of mutant aquarium.

“Is this thing open all the time?” Gear stutters. “How is your family not dead? Heck, the whole city? This thing’s pouring out energy on a—I need to invent a new scale to quantify these readings just so I can make sense of them!”

Phantom laughs, grabbing a chrome cylinder glittering with green designs. “Don’t worry about it, seriously. My mom would know if it was, like, properly dangerous. Now c’mon, I want you to meet a regular of mine.”

=

Two more teenagers are waiting for them outside an evacuated post office. The girl, white with a distinctly Goth taste in clothes, gives Phantom a look that plainly states she thinks he’s nuts. “You didn’t mention you’d be bringing them through,” she says flatly.

The guy, black with thick-rimmed glasses and dressed like he can’t decide if he’s going for ‘frequents Starbucks’ or ‘military surplus’, rolls his eyes and waves. “Hi, I’m Tucker. That’s Sam. Don’t mind her, she’s just pissed the Box Ghost got the jump on her.”

“The one time I leave the house without a Thermos,” she huffs, crossing her arms.

“Sorry about the wait.” Phantom says. “Guys, this is Static and Gear.”

“Charmed,” Static says automatically. Gear just grunts.

“Don’t need three guesses to guess who,” Tucker grins. “We can catch up later. You wanna do the honors, Danny?”

“Nah.” Phantom looks at Static and Gear, looking worryingly pleased. “I helped you out with the, what’s it, Ebon and Friends. Why don’t you take a crack at one of mine?”

[nikkoliferous]

Phase One: Thor

Since I was looking up my past live-blog of the novel and realising how annoying and repetitive reading through it all is because of my having structured it as a bunch of reblogs, I’ve decided to organize it all into one long-ass post instead. In case anyone else wants to read it in the future. Or in case I decide to re-read it. Because I’m hilarious. 😅

SO WITHOUT FURTHER ADO

My Hilarious Yet Wrathful Overview Of Phase One: Thor, Redux

—

If your son who’s to become king requires a babysitter to not screw it all up and also the idea of him being king is stressful enough to put you into a coma, maybe, uh… reconsider doing that? Just a thought.

But you see here why Odin was so deadset on Thor becoming king, despite him being ill-suited for the role. It’s not about what’s best for Asgard; it’s about personal legacy. Thor is Odin’s mini me, and Loki is very much not. There are places within the text where Odin laments Thor “lacking his father’s wisdom” (he’s definitely inherited your humility, though, Odin!), but he hopes for Thor to grow into a “wise king” like himself. Whereas he holds no such illusions (lol, pun) that Loki will ever take after him.

now with tag commentary! #this scene is in the script and both novelizations #(though in reading this novel seems to just be a more complete version of the junior novel? #idk i'm confused because they're supposedly written by different authors but so far the text is identical) #and it drives me insane each time i read it

“Haha, I’m a warmongering piece of shit, isn’t it funny?”

I know, I know. I try to cut Asgard some slack for being such a militaristic culture because social changes happen slowly and when you live for thousands of years per generation, it makes sense that your views on things like war would be regressive. The text says Odin has ruled Asgard for tens of thousands of years (so much for taking Loki’s “give or take 5,000 years” line literally; sure, the Odinsleep would have extended Odin’s lifespan, but by that much? Idk).

Still, fuck Odin. Especially since he’ll eventually try to shame Loki for doing the same thing he’s fucking boasting about here. And on a much smaller scale too.

…is it, though?

I actually think Loki’s relationship with being the centre of attention is really interesting in its complexity and we don’t discuss it enough. I’ve said this before, but he strikes me as the sort of person who craves attention but also wouldn’t really know what to do with it if he had it. He craves it as a result of neglect, because he’s never been shown recognition or validation. This is why he seems to revel in it in Stuttgart, even in (or maybe especially in?) his brainwashed state. But he also frequently comes across as pretty introverted and has horrible self-esteem, so I think on another level, sustained, genuine attention would make him feel kind of uncomfortable. Loki seems to believe that in order to be loved or respected, he has to literally be Thor, though. And Thor has always been the centre of attention, so for Loki, attention is synonymous with respect.

I find Loki’s relationship with wanting attention especially fascinating because I too both crave and fear it. As a borderline, I need it. When no one is paying attention to me, I lose my sense of identity. I feel as though I literally cease to exist. It’s excruciatingly painful. And yet, I have no authentic sense of self; I’m just a chameleon, and the closer people get to me, the more likely it is they’ll see behind my mask. They’ll realise it’s all a show and that I’m actually no one. And then they’ll leave. I can’t help wondering if that’s how Loki feels sometimes too.

Wait, what? You mean goat. His horns are shaped like a goat’s. This is a ram: 

This is a goat:

This is Loki:

Do you see now? They’re like a goat. Not a ram. Not a cow. A GOAT.

This book was written before Ragnarok was a thing, so it may be unfair to connect the two, but it still seems worth noting that it was Thor who reduced Loki to being no more than a trickster to begin with. “You could be more,” my ass. Loki’s problem has never been that he was one-dimensional; it was always that the people in his life, including Thor, refused to see any other dimensions to him. Which makes those words particularly cruel—as if they aren’t cruel enough already, what with the physical torture and all. 

Always happy to have cause to point out that

Loki was on Thor clean-up duty their whole lives; he certainly was not trying to kill Thor.

People like to point to Loki’s attempted genocide of the Jötnar and attempted(-ish? lol) conquest of Earth as proof that he’s some kind of violent maniac. But in a little place I like to call reality, Loki was historically far less aggressive and bloodthirsty than his peers.

Question: why is one conqueror evil and the other is righteously entitled to ruling over the Nine Realms?

Asgardian exceptionalism FTW

I can’t even begin to imagine what would lead you to expect such a thing, Odin. 😂

Uh, ‘cause it is?? And also their planet is MELTING without it??

This is all only within the first two chapters, btw. Lmao

—

—

—

“Looking for answers,” my foot.

YOU WOULD THINK SO, WOULDN’T YOU??

#i mean unless you knew heimdall #he only commits treason on days that end in y

—

—

What’d I say? Thor clean-up dutyyyyy 

Just wanna remind everyone that this 

is why he’s smiling during this scene 

because it makes me laugh every time. 😂 

—

My heart breaks every time I remember that second excerpt because literally ALL OF IT happened to him when he survived falling through the wormhole. My poor boy. 😭

But also of note… Loki gets cold (and also does not like being cold). This interests me because 1) as many are aware, the prevalent headcanon that Loki has a low body temperature irritates me and 2) it possibly(?) lends weight to the theory that he may not be fully Jötun, whether by virtue of his birth or Odin’s spell.

Haha, look at this Feminist Icon™ trying to take credit for his female friend’s accomplishments! Truly inspiring. 

#for some reason the ragnarok lovers have somehow decided that thor is both a feminist and lesbian icon #whatever that means 🤷‍♀️ #and i'm still trying very hard to figure out why #is it literally just because he *says* he respects women or whatever in that dumb rambly conversation with valkyrie?

Ooh… you were so close to getting the point, Volstagg. So close. Take your tongue off Odin’s boot for just a couple minutes longer.

Also, the author just forgot the name of the Casket. How did this book get published? 😂

JUST LOOKING FOR ANSWERS, HUH?

Because fuck Loki, amirite? He, uh… he’s a prince too, you know.

Also… Fandral, you dweeb 😂

…am I reading too much into this, or did Odin just literally forget that Loki exists?

On the other hand, the author also seemed to forget Loki existed for most of this chapter, so who knows. 🤷‍♀️

lmao @ Jane immediately trying to convince herself she’s too rational to be attracted to a stranger 

Honestly, though, big mood. 

Just your periodic reminder that Thor’s sycophantic friends KNEW Loki was right and decided to throw him under the bus anyway. 

Just as I’ve always said: That was it. That was their ENTIRE rationale. That Loki *could* have done it, therefore he must have. Please tell me these people have nothing to do with Asgard’s justice system.

…lol, jk, Asgard has no justice system.

Ok, first of all, no.

Second: thank you, Fandral. You’re a self-absorbed cad, but also evidently Thor’s least stupid friend.

Thirdly, how…? First, it was, “Loki arranged all this because he’s jealous of Thor.” Now they’ve suddenly jumped all the way to, “All of Asgard is in danger.” What exactly does Sif think Loki is planning? He’s gonna, what… assassinate Odin and then sell Asgard to the Jötnar?

—

Please stop hurting me.

Just so there’s no confusion: this one sentence explains everything Loki did for the rest of the movie. It explains how a person who has been historically non-aggressive suddenly transforms into a warmonger. To prove himself a real Asgardian, like his brother and father and grandfather. 

—

…why did Odin fall into the Odinsleep in two completely different scenes in this book? I’m super confused.

Also, we really need to talk about how cruel it is of Marvel to keep forcing Loki to prove his loyalty again and again and again when he’s been doing so almost literally since we met him. And by “we need to talk about it”, I mean I need to tie Kevin Feige and co. to a chair and spend a minimum of five hours lecturing them on how poorly they understand their own fucking character.

Let’s just be clear here: they’re talking about Loki. They’re saying Loki, their LEGITIMATE king, is an enemy of Asgard, based on evidence so paper-thin it’s practically invisible. Just… please, let that sink in. Take a moment to appreciate how utterly fucked up that is. 

I’m sorry (not really), but Thor was so much funnier before Ragnarok.

This scene has always kind of bugged me. If Odin removed Thor’s powers, how come he can still control the weather? Confusing.

So what exactly was Thor’s plan anyway, before he realised he couldn’t lift Mjölnir? He was just gonna call on Heimdall to help him commit treason AGAIN, show up on Asgard against the expressed command of his king, and… Odin would just shrug and be like, “You got me, son! I guess I can’t keep you down. Welcome home!”?

…I mean, I guess that more or less is what happened in the end, but it’s hard to imagine it would have still gone down that way without all the stuff that happened with Loki. Idk.  

#look what i'm saying is... thor is not exactly a thinking person #no one on asgard is a thinking person #except loki but he's crazy now so he's also thinking somewhat poorly lol

Cool, Thor. Now imagine feeling that way for ONE THOUSAND YEARS and develop a little fucking empathy for your brother.

But you won’t.

You’ll brush off his feelings of worthlessness as “imagined slights”. 😒

Nice that somebody knows how the royal line of succession works, I guess… 

That sound you hear? Yeah, that’s just my heart breaking. NBD. 

First, they mislabelled it the Casket of Eternal Winters. Now it’s the Cask of Ancient Winters. Author must have been thirsty when they wrote this. Lol 

Look, not to nitpick, but this is not the recommended procedure when you see a storm that you don’t believe is of supernatural origin coming. I’m just saying. Lol 

Uh… ‘cause he is?? And your pals are committing treason AGAIN, Thor, so it technically is responding to a threat to Asgard. Just FYI.

Anyways, this is an important point that doesn’t get made often enough. People want to act like Loki illegally usurped the throne somehow, but even without the deleted scene that explicitly shows Frigga passing rulership to him (a scene which is, for some reason, entirely skipped over in this book, but whatever), understand this: Loki could not have controlled the Destroyer unless he was legitimately King of Asgard. The fact that he’s able to do so is irrefutable proof that his rulership is valid.

lmao you little shit

So… here’s my issue with this scene (and with Thor as a character): He always assumes that Loki’s acting out specifically to hurt him. That Loki’s entire life and thought process revolves around Thor. He does it in this scene, he does it in The Avengers… it’s just a chronic thing with Thor. Everything is viewed through the lens of Loki inexplicably hating him.

But that’s… just not accurate. Yes, Loki harbours a lot of jealousy towards Thor. But that’s not what’s happening in this scene. Loki is not trying to kill Thor here because he wants him dead; he’s doing it because Thor (and his friends) are getting in the way of Loki completing his ultimate goal. Loki tried to solve this problem non-violently, by lying about Odin being dead. It’s Thor’s friends who all but forced his hand by going behind his back and trying to bring Thor back to Asgard against Loki’s (and Odin’s!) direct orders.

For all the humility he’s learned in the past few days, this entire speech is still really all about Thor. About assuming that Loki’s doing this for personal reasons, because he holds a grudge against Thor for some unknown reason. This is implicit in his request to “take [my life] and end this.” It never even occurs to him that his friends are traitors to the Crown and Loki, as King of Asgard, is perhaps justified in pursuing them.

It also needs to be acknowledged that Thor’s apology here is hollow, even if it’s ultimately coming from his heart, because he has no idea what he’s apologising for. “Whatever I have done to wrong you” is not an apology. An apology addresses specific hurtful actions taken and commits to not repeating those mistakes in the future. Thor cannot commit to not repeating the hurtful things he’s done, because he doesn’t know what he’s done. Despite his best intentions, what Thor is doing here is actually kind of manipulative. He’s not addressing any substantive issue between the two of them; he’s just trying to talk Loki down. And it ultimately fails not because Loki doesn’t care or because he wants Thor dead, but because it doesn’t actually change anything.

Finally and only semi-relatedly, we should maybe at some point talk about the fact that Loki, who is stated to be a master tactician, has displayed a weird pattern of hardly ever being as lethal as he could be. He freezes Heimdall in place instead of killing him outright; he backhands Thor with the Destroyer instead of incinerating him; he, well… *gestures vaguely at almost the entirety of the first Avengers movie* Anytime the violence is even a little bit personal, he seems to hedge. Odd behaviour for somebody who’s supposedly super evil.

I’m sorry, I know I’ve pointed it out at least a hundred times before, but I just can’t encounter this scene in any form without taking a moment to appreciate how underrated and hilarious it is.

I also genuinely wonder how many Ragnarok stans who have accused me of having no sense of humour, have failed to laugh at moments like this one. Kinda feel like if you need to have the comedy spoonfed to you in the form of ass jokes, maybe you’re the one whose sense of humour is lacking. 🤷‍♀️

Let’s be super clear: this is not what happened. Loki did not betray Odin; he was betrayed by Odin. He did not open Asgard to its enemies; he attempted, misguidedly, to destroy Asgard’s enemies. And he most certainly did not commit suicide out of a sense of guilt.

I’m not saying Loki did nothing wrong, nor am I saying he feels no regret for the lives he has taken. What I’m saying is there’s no indication that he believes he betrayed Odin or Asgard in the process. Which makes perfect sense, because he didn’t. Everything he tried to do was for Odin and Asgard. It was misguided and horrible, yes, but it can hardly be classified as a betrayal.

The insurmountable burden on Loki is not that he did terrible things, but that no matter what he does or how hard he tries, Odin will never look at him with anything but contempt. Consider once more these passages from the very beginning of the book, at Thor’s coronation:

—

Consider that this book goes to great pains to point out that Odin favours Thor because Thor is a warrior like him. And yet even when Loki embraces that, even when he acts more war-like than ever before, Odin rejects him— just as he always has.

There is a reason why this moment is the last time Loki will ever call Odin his father. Because he realises once and for all that, no, nothing he tries will ever be good enough; no, Odin won’t ever look at him with pride. That is Loki’s burden. That is why he lets go.

The epilogue is really just two pages of making me want to vomit. 

There’s your party where Thor and a certain subset of the fandom insist that Loki was mourned. There’s barely an indication here that anyone even perceives his demise as a negative thing.

“[Sif] could see Frigga thought [Loki was dead] as well” also contradicts the tie-in comic for TDW, so I don’t know what the author is on about there. Unlike the majority of Marvel comics, the tie-in comics are canon to the MCU, so it’s a bizarre statement to make.

COULD YOU SMEAR THE DEAD* ABUSE VICTIM A LITTLE HARDER, PLEASE? Fucking hell.

No matter how many times I encounter this scene, in whatever format, I still fail to become desensitized to how disgusting it is. I realise there’s a good chance that whatever version of events Thor has been told was twisted at best; but how you can look at a man whose son has just committed suicide under any circumstances and say there will never be a better father than that guy, is utterly beyond my capacity to understand.

And Odin’s “you’ve already made me proud” line just feels like extra salt in the wound because, again, Loki let go because he realized Odin would never say those words to him. And yet they come so damn easily when it’s Thor.

Fuck this entire family so much. I think I hate them more than Loki does. Sometimes I wonder what he would think about that. How he would react to knowing that not only is he actually loved, but that he’s so loved that people are genuinely furious at the way he’s been mistreated. That there are people who regularly devolve into full-on rants because they just can’t contain how much anger they have towards the people who hurt him. I think he’d have a hard time wrapping his head around that concept, tbh.

Anyways, to end on a not-completely-depressing note, I’m still waiting for someone at Marvel to explain how Loki knew what Thor said in this scene after plummeting into a wormhole. ‘Cause he references this conversation as Fauxdin at the end of TDW. So like… ?? Did he steal Odin’s memories before he erased them? Because that would be… kind of neat, actually. And very clever. Not entirely ethical, of course, but it’s Odin, so fuck ethics.

WELP, THAT’S IT. Thanks for following along with my dumbassery, hope you enjoyed yourselves. Lol

[scarlet--wiccan]

You can ignore this if you don’t have any thoughts but what your ideal new young avengers run look like? Who would be on the team, what would you even call it now that they’re all adults (except Cassie I guess?)

One of my favorite things about Young Avengers, which I think is often underplayed to the detriment of the characters, is that the team is routinely forced to operate outside of the law and against the wishes of their elders. In the core YA books, the kids are more often working in opposition to the Avengers rather than in cooperation. These are characters whose methods and motives are not usually aligned with those of the established superhero organizations, which is also reflected in many of their appearances beyond YA-- Strikeforce and Empyre are great examples, as are Cassie's adventures in Astonishing Ant-Man. This rebel element is often at odds with the fact that many of the characters admire the Avengers, or have close personal relationships with individual Avengers members. The dissonance becomes especially strong when Billy and Teddy, who have the most reason to distrust and resent them following Children's Crusade, are consistently characterized as Avengers fanboys.

That's not to say that I think the Young Avengers should, like, hate the old Avengers, but I do think that this tension is a key part of the series. The 2005 run was about a group of kids who stepped up, at a very young age, to do a job that wasn't getting done because the previous generation had failed, only to get shot down by the people who had failed them in the first place. It's about a group of kids grappling with complex and painful family histories, and, in many ways, they're foils to the Runaways, which is why I don't really like it when they play junior Avengers or emulate the traditional superhero team structure-- WCA was really fun, but I'm not going to pitch a second volume, you know? I much prefer them operating as an ad hoc group, mainly because they each come from different backgrounds, have different goals, and work in different fields. They're not people who work together because they're part of an organization, they're people who show up for each other because they're friends and they care about one another. That is, in my mind, a more effective approach to a team book with such disparate characters than what the typical Avengers title tries to do.

So, anyways, that's what I think makes Young Avengers special and it's why I think the book still has a place in the Marvel world. Pitching actual story ideas is hard now because Teddy and Billy are, apparently, living off-world and very busy being royalty. In my previous post, I outlined an older idea for a BillyTeddy ongoing series that could have easily functioned as a third volume of Young Avengers, but would require some editing to work in a post-Empyre world. The idea was for Billy and Teddy's apartment in New York to act as a base of operations for a revolving cast of their friends, who come and go over the course of various story arcs. The two of them are presumably living full-time in space now, but it's also been established that they're magically anchored to each other in a way that makes it easy for Billy to warp between New York and the throneship-- anywhere Teddy goes, Billy can instantly follow, and vice-versa, which means that the series could still use Earth as a main setting without pulling the royal couple out of their other storyline.

I'd love a Young Avengers/Runaways crossover set in space-- their previous crossovers mostly have to do with alien drama, after all, and I've been itching to get Xavin back on page. I'm very serious when I say that I want Xavin, Teddy and Noh to be best friends, and I think they'd be fun leads for a miniseries, or even the opening arc of a limited run that eventually folds in the other YA and Runaways characters. I'm imagining an extended version of the interstellar road trip from YA (2013). Maybe Teddy will recruit his two closest alien friends to go on a sensitive diplomatic mission where he can only bring a small party, but it turns out to be some kind of trap and they end up stranded somewhere and have to, like fight their way out of hostile territory and make their way back to the Alliance with no ship. Billy can reach Teddy, obviously, but he can't just warp the whole party home because the distance is too great or they're in an alternate dimension or something, so he rounds up a rescue party and Karolina insists on coming along because, I don't know, the Light Brigade is mixed up in this and she feels like it's her responsibility to help Xavin even though they haven't seen each other in years. Nico obviously comes along with her, and can help Billy with tracking spells.

I'd also like to see a YA book led by the series' most under-served characters-- Tommy, Eli, and Cassie. Building off of Cassie's capers in Ant-Man, I'd be very into a heist or espionage story about the three of them, probably joined by Kate because she'd add a lot of cohesion to the cast and is so well suited to this type of adventure. Maybe they're undercover, and they have to, like, fake-fight some of the other Young Avengers, but they all join forces once the misunderstanding is cleared up. I'm picturing a cold open where the whole first issue is made up of, like, security camera footage of three masked figures breaking into a high-tech vault at AIM or Roxxon, and they steal a bunch of weaponry and fight their way out through a bunch of goons, but then it's revealed that the whole thing was a distraction to cover up a fourth intruder who moves too fast for the cameras to track. At the end of the issue, it's revealed to the reader that the intruders are the Young Avengers, and the real prize was a computer holding the last backup of Jonas's AI. The rest of the first arc is about them trying to rebuild Jonas with help from Vee, but they have to keep it a secret from the Avengers because they're planning an even bigger heist against, like Kate's dad, and they need to keep the whole operation under wraps because he's got eyes and ears all over.

I'm not particularly eager for another fantasy story after CC and YA(2013), but I'd be into a cosmic-fantasy arc about America solving some sort of inter-dimensional crisis or chasing a villain across worlds with Tommy and Billy's help. I really want more development between America and Billy, but I also think that she'd be really funny friends with Tommy and I want to see more of him playing off of magic characters. Maybe Leah (the one from Earth-15513 that's living on Earth-616 now) receives a mysterious message from Loki and asks the Young Avengers to help her track them down. America and Billy volunteer and Tommy tags along. Along the way they end up discovering some sort of evil curse or spell and go on a quest through various dimensions in order to break it. In the end it turns out the whole thing was set up by Loki to manipulate them into defeating an evil alternate-universe Loki-- maybe the one from Leah's native dimension-- because Evil Loki had used an enchantment that made it impossible for 616-Loki to harm them, which includes allies who are knowingly fighting on Loki's behalf. Better yet, it's a proxy war, and Evil Loki has recruited pawns of their own-- including Sylvie and Lisa from the Young Masters! 616-Loki does come clean when the dust is settled and finally reconnects with the Young Avengers. Loki is glad that Leah found a way to escape her destiny, but they admit that they don't feel they've succeeded in breaking out of their own cycle, to which America and Billy are like "we've seen how far you've come, but you need to remember that people care about you and stop bailing on us when we actually want to talk it out with you," which Tommy backs up because, like, he's been that person. Friendship! Character arcs that don’t fizzle out when a book wraps in under twenty issue!

Anyways, if we got a third Young Avengers volume, I'd prefer a limited run with a cohesive story, but all of the ideas I just outlined would probably work better as smaller arcs in an ongoing series. I have a lot of ideas about tying up loose threads and continuing arcs that are already in motion, but I'm hesitant to plot out what the next big step in these characters' lives should be. I definitely think it's time to give Tommy and Cassie another shot at the spotlight, and I want Eli to come back with a new costume and codename.

At this phase, it's just really hard for me to land on any larger, deeper stories because I'm so unsure of what the next few years will look like for Billy and Teddy. There's also an America title that's been in production limbo since the pandemic started, and I feel like there's some kind of drama on the horizon between the Maximoffs and Krakoa which would theoretically impact the twins as well. I also anticipate editorial pushing for Kate in a Hawkeye book when the tv show comes out.

[muffintonic]

MY CATU LIVEBLOG

I did it for the crossover, so I thought i’d do it for the new movie (Phineas and Ferb the Movie: Candace Against the Universe, for those unaware of the acronym)! 

TLDR: 8/10 not canon, but surprisingly good nevertheless.

Good: character interactions, dialogue (hilarious), everyone was involved, nice use of Chekhov's guns, absolutely EPIC background music

Bad: off-model issues, animation kind of flash-esque at times, the color palette was more like MML than PnF (more saturated and oddly shaded with clashing colors), overly long gags/pacing problems, immersion-breaking/stereotypical sound effects sometimes, some OOC

Ahh, i've missed Candace's singing.

WAIT A SECOND, WHY DOES HER CHARACTER MODEL LOOK SO MEATY (her head shape is blobby, too)

Oh my god, the entire Hirano family a minute in....i'm living.

Hmmm, the pyramid sports thing was from "Thanks But No Thanks," which is a Season 4 episode. In that episode, Vanessa is dating Monty, which only happened after "Minor Monogram" in Season 3. We know that Phineas and Ferb the Movie: Across the 2nd Dimension takes place in July after "Candace Loses Her Head" (since Doof's Drill-inator from that episode is scene in ATSD), but also before or around "Great Balls of Water" (since it's July in that episode) and definitely before "This is Your Backstory" (2D!Doof's advice to Doof is referenced)/"Road to Danville" (Phineas' trust gesture is referenced)/"Fly on the Wall" (the summer song gets referenced). LONG STORY SHORT: if ATSD took place in July, when the fridge does CATU take place if we're considering it canon?

Seriously, her off-modelness is super distracting to me. It was fine that she essentially had a triangle silhouette because she also had stick limbs, but giving her realistically meaty limbs makes me question why the rest of her is shaped like that. Bad.

That is some EPIC opening music!

Okay, the weird shading on that clown is also super distracting. PnF's design aesthetic is light and bright....I wonder if the MML people worked on this movie or something (which would also explain Candace's odd meatiness).

Why are all the lines so thick????? It looks like one of those low-budget toonboom or whatever animations Disney posts to YouTube.

Hmmmmm, Doof did the "evenly matched" thing in "Doofapus," too.

OH MY GOD, THE SATURATED COLORS + DARKNESS + THICK LINES ARE SOOOOOOOOO UGLYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY.

Bwahahahahaha, that pause when Candace is like "Actually, yes, WTF is it now?" is hilarious.

I like the detail of how all the kids' bikes are lying there in the driveway.

I would've just grabbed Linda's head and turned it at that point, honestly.

Linda is telling Candace calmly that she's exhausted...WHEN DOES THIS MOVIE TAKE PLACE?!!!!

Candace learns by "Sci-Fi Pie Fly" that she can take a break from busting to the betterment of her mental health sometimes....and that's a Season 3 episode. WHEN. DOES. THIS. MOVIE. TAKE. PLACE.

Ahh, i've missed Baljeet and Buford's banter. #oldmarriedcouple

Phineas is like "Candace wasn't having fun this summer? D:" but, like, if this movie takes place in the middle....they sure as heck didn't acknowledge it for the entire rest of the summer. HRGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, THIS IS WHY YOU CAN'T JUST RETROACTIVELY INSERT EVENTS IN THE MIDDLE OF A SERIES: WE KNOW HOW THE REST OF THE SUMMER/THEIR LIVES TURNED OUT.

Why is Perry's wrist communicator a square. It's a circle throughout the entire series.

Does Vanessa have a scooter license? Do you need a license to ride a scooter? She was complaining in "Vanessassary Roughness" that she was always riding on the back of Doof's scooter, so I assumed she didn't. We did learn in "Finding Mary McGuffin" that she knows how to drive/has her license in "This is Your Backstory," does that count?

WAIT, WHY IS VANESSA SO PINK???? SHE AND DOOF ARE SUPPOSED TO BE A DIFFERENT SHADE OF WHITE (more coffee-toned) FROM THE FLYNN-FLETCHERS. Goddang, I had always appreciated how even the white characters were all different shades from each other in PnF....what a letdown.

Mmmm, characters either willingly engage in diegetic music in this show ("Where's Pinky?"), or it's just an imagine spot/non-diegetic. "Why do I have a guitar?" is not something that should be said.

Hmmmmmmmm, Candace is faulting the universe.......in ATSD she's talking about the Mysterious Force.....HMMMMMMMMM.....

Sounds like that was what Vanessa used to stop her Evil Busting phase...nice. Also, i'm only ~7 minutes into this movie, but i've spent the last 30 minutes watching it.

Hey, astute observation! That's what I always say: Candace wants to bust her brothers both because their projects can get dangerous ("Happy Birthday Isabella"/"Picture This"/"The Great Indoors"/ATSD/etc), and because she feels overshadowed by them/that they can get away with more than her ("Gi-Ants"/"For Your Ice Only"/"Love at First Byte")!

OH MY GOD, SHE ACTUALLY SAID "...completely overshadowed by Phineas and Ferb?" HOLY VALIDATION BATMAN

Man, i've said it before about Vanessa's deconstruction of Doof's motivations in "Last Day of Summer," but she would make a great therapist or something. I hope she goes into Psychology in the future.

HMmmm, I do kind of wish it was with Stacy that she had this breakthrough with, considering how Stacy's been her best friend since they were 5 years old ("Phineas and Ferb Save Summer")/she's only known Vanessa since "Phineas and Ferb: Summer Belongs to You!" somewhere in June. Like, I get that Vanessa is more in-tune with psychological stuff like this and it makes sense, but i’m just a Stacy fan at heart

Oooh, she's even saying "breakthrough" and "healing!"

UGLY SHADING/SATURATION YET AGAIN (did I mention that the D.E.I. scooter is also the wrong color from how we've seen it before? because it is)

Bwuh, "What Do it Do?" all over again.

Okay, seriously, it looks like the giant thing is floating...where's the shadow under it?? THERE IS NONE.

BRO, THERE HAD BETTER BE MORE STACY IN THIS MOVIE. DON'T TELL ME SHE JUST GETS A CAMEO AT THE BEGINNING.

What did they make her? I want to know!

Ooooh, Candace's hands are way too small in that window shot. The off-modelness is so distracting.

AUGH, PHINEAS HAS A BABY HAND, TOO.

Haha, I love it when debris falls in with Perry when he goes to his lair.

Bwahaha, he's so done with Monogram

They use landlines ("Sipping with the Enemy") and physical files...don't try to tell me that PnF takes place later than 2012 I won't hear it.

NICE FILE PHOTO, CANDY

Wait, they have a whole alert-protocol thing about a host family member getting kidnapped by aliens, but it says to send the assigned agent on the mission??? In "Undercover Carl" and "Bullseye!" Monogram specifically didn't want Perry to get involved (in ATSD Perry was acting on his own), so ????????? Is it because he's their best agent or what?????

Some stuff is missing from Phineas and Ferb's room (on the walls).

GALACTIC WEB???? My first thought was the Galactic Kids Next Door

Haha, oh, these kids. Love little moments like these.

Why do characters always play with a ball when in jail/trapped? 2D!Candace did it in ATSD, too.

Why is that CGI so conspicuous. PnF used CGI sometimes, and it didn't look like butt. We're in 2020, people.

BWAHAHA, Vanessa!!

Ooh, they're bringing back Space Adventure! Now, we know that after "Not Phineas and Ferb" in Season 2 they say they're over it, but also that 9 episodes later in "Nerds of a Feather," Phineas and Ferb go to a convention/dress up from it. WHEN DOES THIS MOVIE TAKE PLACE.

Hmmm, cutaway gags like I remember MML doing...still too Family Guy for my tastes, especially with it being overly long. (I'm also not pleased with how Baljeet's half-lidded eyes goes straight across instead of bending over the curvature of his eye like what PnF usually does....the straight thing is also Family Guy/South Park's style. This does not bode well.)

WHOA, OFF-MODEL BALJEET ALERT!!!!! WHY IS HE SHORTER THAN PHINEAS AND WHY IS HIS ARM BENDING LIKE THAT!!!!

Bruh, Phineas thinking it's dangerous and not asking his friends to go seems OOC. Where was this attitude in "Meapless to Seattle?" In "Night of the Living Pharmacists?" In ANY OTHER dangerous scenario?

I do like how the kids are getting to go with them this time after missing out on ATSD.

NORM?!!!!!!!!!!!

PBBBFFFT, WHY DO YOU THINK GIVING THEM BUFORD WOULD APPEASE THEM

Hey, yeah, they've never made mistakes like this! What's going on?

Okay, seriously, in ATSD and NOTLP the kids don't know who Doof is. WHEN. MOVIE. Also, Doof's lab interior does have the correct items in it, but they're colored + shaded weirdly.

DOOF IS A VIRGO?!! Okay, that tracks with him being incompatible with Sagittarius people from "Love at First Byte."

Mmmm, the animation is definitely more on the "low budget YouTube shorts" level. The way Doof moves....

Yeah, gotta stick to your brand, bwaha!

OKAY, SERIOUSLY, THAT IS NOT THE SAME CHICKEN-REPLACE INATOR FROM "What a Croc!" GET THE GODDANG COLORS RIGHT JEEZ DID THESE PEOPLE NOT LOOK AT A SINGLE MODEL SHEET BEFORE MAKING THIS MOVIE

Bwahahahahahahaha, I missed Buford and Isabella's banter (and Buford is right: they might need a canoe...or maybe that's just my over-preparedness talking)!

Again: "Undercover Carl"/"Bullseye!"

Ah, Buford.

Wait a second, they didn't even have an introduction scene between Doof and the kids like they did in ATSD. *insert thinking emoji here*

Meh, D.E.I.'s been blown up worse before (the "Ask a Foolish Question" time comes to mind)

DOOF YOU ARE THE ADULT SUPERVISION!!!! GAH!!

Wait, what are you talking about Candace? I don't remember a voice automated translator being a thing in the Flynn-Fletcher household. If this is a crack at Alexa/Google Home or whatever, THEY HAVE NEVER BEEN SHOWN TO HAVE ONE OF THOSE IN ALL OF THE EPISODES OF PNF

They could have done a fireman slide, I guess...though maybe the friction would've made that a bad idea.

Okay, is everyone going to get mind-wiped at the end of this or what? Candace didn't even know Vanessa's last name or where she lived in "It's No Picnic," and they definitely didn't seem friendly enough in NOTLP considering all of these interactions. I'm going to count up all the "WHEN MOVIE" comments i've made by the end of this liveblog, and if it's 10+ i'm just going to say the movie is non-canon/just an OVA. I am enjoying it more than the MML crossover so far, so that's good, though.

Haha, oh, Candace. See, this is why she and Stacy are BFFs: same braincell (AKA Stacy's "Elementary My Dear Stacy"/"Put That Putter Away" moments).

OH, CANDACE. XD

OH, SNAP!!!

Ugh, okay, the "WHEN MOVIE" doesn't even matter anymore. Officially non-canon due to irreconcilable timeline a la MML post-2016 reference.

Yay, Isabella showing off her skills again! People tend to forget that she's also smart.

Go, Perry!!

Oh my god, the "unsung hero" being technically sung....good stuff

Oh my god, Perry, nooooo!! Someone save him!

Wait, did Doof purposefully put that platypus-sized spacesuit on the ship for Perry?!! Awwwwwwwww!!

HAHA, BUFORD

Oh my god, Vanessa, noooo!!! D: I bet the pods were sent back to where they came from/Vanessa should've been in the Earth pod.

Goddang, good thing that planet's got breathable air (not that that ever really gets addressed in PnF, haha).

Ah, okay, it took her to the planet the aliens are from. Weird.

Wait, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, these aliens are weirdly humanoid!! What!! PnF was so good about that ("Out to Lauch"/"The Chronicles of Meap"/"Escape from Phineas Tower"/"Sci-Fi Pie Fly")!!

So they were sending out pods looking for a leader? Weird. Also, they already had Candace be the leader in "Gi-Ants"/"Unfair Science Fair Redux (Another Story)."

Wait, they're doing show-tunes, and pretty much only people who are Evil in PnF do that ("Phineas and Ferb Save Summer"/"The Klimpaloon Ultimatum"/most of Doof's songs). I bet they're going to sacrifice her because of a prophecy or something.

Okay, -1000 points for the Floss. I hate it so much. You know what you'd be flossing if you did that with real rope? POOP. GROSS. Bring back Baljeet dabbing if you're going to make a reference like that, dabbing is fun.

Okay, this song is officially going on for too long. I know the overly long gag thing is a Family Guy staple, too. U G H, leave that horribleness out of my wholesome cartoons, please. Goddang, the influence was even in WBB's movie, too (Panda's dead pose). The Horribleness Lovers are infiltrating the animation industry. (How do I know about the Horribleness if I don't watch Family Guy/South Park? From people making infoposts about how horrible they are + reading up on their wikias/watching YouTube analyses of them, of course. Knowledge is power, and you must know your enemy.)

Seriously, open the freaking door. All of these overly long gags are not only unfunny, they eat up the runtime. PnF has great pacing where it's not too fast (Wander Over Yonder was sometimes too fast), but spends enough time on the things that need it. Opening a door is not something that needs time, especially when it's following up an overly long song.

I bet they're going to extract the element from her or something.

I'M PARANOID, TOO

Wait, this lady (I didn't catch her name) seems to be their leader?? Is she abdicating?

So the aliens have a gender binary, too? Is that necessary? Would that be necessary?

Hmm, I know that Doof didn't realize how futile rotating the moon was in "The Doof Side of the Moon" and what a boat was in "Are You My Mummy?" but he tends to be smart about intricate science stuff. Like, the problem with his inators (he even says it himself in "Phineas and Ferb Save Summer") is that he executes them poorly, not that he's failing in other aspects. Like, is this is the same scientist that built a Re-Good inator solely from plane parts in "Where's Perry?"

That cutaway was not necessary.

BALJEET, NO. Also, is it in character for him to be so gung-ho about trying out this unprecedented maneuver? I know he does have a wild side, but it's not usually about science things/throwing things that require this much caution to the wind.

Wouldn't they pass out from the G-forces or whatever?

Wait, what was the point of that alien mammoth getting flung? I mean, I figured that was going to happen to their ship by the way it landed on the mushroom.

Haha, oh, Doof.

XDDDD Buford had better save the day, since he's the only one that doesn't register the ominous tone. If he doesn't that'd be such a waste of the gag.

Haha, Buford. Still my favorite kid. :')

Okay, I seriously can't hear anything this alien leader lady says. It's like she's whispering all her lines with a hoarse throat or half-mumbling parts of her sentences or something. I have my volume turned up, and it's not helping.

Gross. WAIT, ISN'T THAT LIKE WHAT THE CITIZENS OF THE CANDY KINGDOM DO FROM ADVENTURE TIME?

Wait, do they have a farming culture? They were doing something in a field right now.

Hmm, yeah, lots of non-humanoid alien species on this planet alone....did they NEED to make the kidnapper ones so humanoid?

Doof, you even said that there was no adult supervision earlier. XD Isabella's definitely more qualified to lead, considering she's a Fireside Girl Troop leader/her vast array of badges compared to Doof absolutely ruining the Tri-State Area in "Phineas and Ferb's Quantum Boogaloo" and not knowing what leadership entails in "The Beak"/"Last Day of Summer."

Haha, yeah, see! Whip out those badges.

HAHAHAHA, Oh, Doof. I can see him facing front in the card's photo, ahhh, frontal Doof.

DOOF!!! XDD

Oh my god, he took her hat. She looks like she's starting to get pissed....you never want to get on Isabella's bad side. XDD (She knows hapkido/jujitsu from NOTLP)

Oh my god, this song is amazing.

See, songs are okay to be long if they're dynamic: lots of movement between locations, varying camera angles, engaging lyrics, moves the plot forward, etc. Now this is PnF!

Baljeet, please. XD

Oh my god, poor Doof. Yowch! I hope his leg's not broken. D: He's certainly dragging it around like it is.

HAHA, I love how he just calmly zaps it!!! Nice (and a good example of the experience thing he was talking about earlier).

That chicken looks uncomfortably realistic for PnF's style (we've seen Agent C in "Traffic Cam Caper" before and a rooster in "Cheer Up Candace").

They got the farmer's hair color wrong. Interesting that they brought him and his wife back, though!

What's with the sudden cartoony sound effects for Doof falling??????? Bad.

Hmm, the audience seems like they're being mind-controlled.

It can't be the first time ever, since she was a star in "Flop Starz"/"Run Away Runway"/"Lights, Candace, Action!"/"Unfair Science Fair Redxux (Another Story)"/"Gi-Ants."

For a hot second I thought she was going to ask Candace to marry her or join her family or something.

I bet Vanessa is going to tame that alien dragon! Also, I hope they realize she's not on earth soon.

I bet the gift they made Candace at the beginning is going to change her mind about living it up on the alien planet.

Oh my GOD, Candace has shown repeatedly that she loves and cares about her little brothers. WELP, GOOD THING THIS MOVIE AIN'T CANON.

Like, seriously, if this movie was canon, there's no way the boys would ever drop the "Candace is unhappy" thing for the rest of the summer.

HAHA, LIKE I SAID: ISABELLA IS TO BE FEARED. XD Also, wasn't it Candace's fault since she sent them away?

"While I love ominous patch-related threats more than anyone--" *AHEM* "Right, apart from Ferb" BOYS, PLEASE. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

I'm getting flashbacks to Horde Prime inviting Glimmer to dinner. Also, I almost typed "Glitter" instead of Glimmer right now.

I bet she killed her brothers or had them mind-controlled or something.

Ooooooof, that's ominous.

Aw, Baljeet's so interested in joining Buford's gang.

Bwahaha, Doof looks so interested! I bet he's going to remember the stuff they're listing for later or something.

DID MONOGRAM JUST SAY DO NOT ENGAGE THE ALIENS BECAUSE OF AN INTER-GALACTIC TREATY?? IS THAT A LILO AND STITCH REFERENCE???? (probably not, but i've been getting into L&S again lately)

Meh, Buford and Baljeet survived being eaten by the worm from "One Good Turn." Those aliens will be fiiiiiiiiiiiiine. :P

Were those alien prisoners rebels or something? They have a hidden city, but they also seemed too scared to be rebels.

Oh my god, cubism.

Okay, so they're not rebels, per se, but they resist by....hiding and cowering. Sort of?

MMmmmyep, the show tunes tipped me off. So these guys got invaded by another alien species, huh? OOF, cordyceps vibes

So she needs Candace to be food for the spores or something?

Yep, she's using Candace as plant food.

Overly long gag again. :\\\\\\\\

Okay, so she didn't kill/mind-control them, but she did lock them up. I was right!

I don't know how their alien biology works, but humans can't eternally walk. Candace's legs would eventually get tired/become not able to move until the lactic acid she builds up wears off. She could also develop varicose veins or blood clots from all that standing. Bad move, aliens.

Yeah, Candace would never do something like that! Also, see: it was her fault they ended up on the prison shuttle, not Doof or Isabella's.

Bruh, the rest of the earth gang breathes CO2...did your scanners not pick up on that?

Oh my god, Candace, don't reveal information that could get earth invaded.

Wait, how was she keeping the mushroom alive before? Where did it come from?

Also, WHAT ABOUT VANESSA!!! SOMEONE SAVE VANESSA!!!

Wait, why was the alien lady holding onto the smaller alien's long moustache? Is he her pet?? CONFUSION

Ugh, they don't have to make every single thing a gag. PnF knew when to make moments real/dramatic. Grow a spine and live with the weight of emotional tension, movie.

ANOTHER OVERLY LONG GAG? No wonder this movie is so long.

Wait, is Shego the VA for the alien lady? The way she yelled sounded like Marlene, who has Shego's VA. I'm going to look this up later.

BWAHA, Vanessa hears the ominous tone, too!

I don't doubt that Doof will be able to cobble something together to get them back, but that honestly has nothing to do with "adulting" since Phineas and Ferb could probably do the same, and they're kids.

I absolutely love how Buford's still carrying that canoe everywhere.

YES!!! Haha, yes, Doof, Perry is your guardian angel (and emotional support animal). :')

I KNEW Vanessa was going to tame that dragon!!

Yeah, see, she never has that dragon again, so this movie is totally just an OVA.

OH MY GOD, PULLING A Chowder HERE, I SEE! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!

Yeah, you can see how off-model/pink Vanessa is right here where she's standing next to Doof. She's supposed to have his brown-tinged coloring (just look at any other time she’s next to him--”Finding Mary McGuffin”/”Minor Monogram”/NOTLP/”Hail Doofania!”/”A Real Boy”/etc).

Bwahahahaha, chicken selfie

Oh, yeah, that makes sense. What would happen if they killed the chicken? Does it only switch with alive chickens?

BWEHEHEHEHEHE

Though I don't like the particular scare chord they used when Doof holds up the Axe inator--very stereotypical/they could've composed a new version, like how Candace's leitmotif is technically Ring Around the Rosie, but different.

Aww, why not, Vanessa? It's your best bet home! Although, I guess it would be awkward considering Perry's right there....

I need to see a photo of the Lieutenant Baljeet's talking about here, for....reasons.

See, Baljeet's recklessness in this movie seems more like something Buford-i'm going to randomly mess with this ("Fly on the Wall")-Van Stomm would do

In "Nerds of a Feather" Baljeet cosplays as a Space Adventure character, so....

"You made another boat?! What've I been lugging this one around for?!" NICE, BUFORD, BWAHA

Wait, how on earth did that work? Can hunks of metal just allow something to fly like that? I admit to not knowing how planes work, but at least those have, like, engines and whatever.

WAIT A SECOND, I SPY MISHTI IN THAT MCFREAKING STADIUM CROWD!!! WHAT IS SHE DOING THERE!!! SHE'S NOT A NORMAL FILLER BACKGROUND CHARACTER!!

Stacy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I wonder if they meant to put her mom on the bleacher seat behind her, or if it's another Mishti case.

They spelled his name wrong: we saw in "Doof 101" that it's John P. Trystate (the elementary school is named after him)

Beh, nothing bad is ever supposed to happen to Roger, that's the whole point of his character. Bad.

Ah, Bujeet banter.

WHY IS ISABELLA'S ROBOT A CAT THING

They should've made something to kill the mushroom instead.

OH, JEREMY XD Wait, that didn't sound like Mitchel Musso. 

Was he just making those weapons because it's his hobby? Stacy did suggest a compound bow as a gift for him in "Vanessassary Roughness," and there's a bow on the counter

Buford and Isabella banter!

I like the detail of Candace's hair being disheveled and her socks drooping after walking all this time

Aww, does she feel guilty? :(

She does. Again, this movie can't be canon, because they don't acknowledge what she's saying for the rest of the summer and this kind of breakdown would definitely leave a mark on her.

AHA, I knew that gift would come into play!

Aww, that's a cute mug! Also, good on Candace for not drinking coffee!

HMMM, OKAY, SO THE SIBLING HUG FROM "Phineas and Ferb Get Busted," WHICH WAS PERRY'S DREAM, IS ON THAT PROJECTION OF THEIR NICE MOMENTS. TOLD YA: NOT CANON.

Haha, nice @ the new gelatin memory. It aligns nicely with the various things Candace has done offscreen that Phineas and Ferb get a kick out of (getting her face caught in the dishwasher, getting tangled in the clothesline, etc)

The exploding thing is technically a step forward, but, again, the real issue is killing that mushroom. Also, are Doof and Co. still stuck??

"Why does that sound like her name?" "I dunno." BOYS

STACY...JEREMY...LARPING.....Aww, don't be ashamed, Jeremy! Candace does Ducky Momo cosplay, and she accepted your dance deficiency in "Nerdy Dancin'!" I have to say, I love it when Stacy and Jeremy are on the same side, since Candace was sidelining Stacy in favor of spending time with Jeremy for a while (to the point where "Canderemy" happened).

Mmm, I notice a trend in cartoons lately about applying psychology to things. Amphibia, SPOP, Steven Universe...it's nice to get kids used to the idea that introspection is healthy.

DID SHE JUST DIE

Okay, did they just...fly from another planet? The gang went beyond light speed to get back home....there's atmosphere issues....they didn't even bother to try and have them salvage the space suits from the inator even though characters in PnF can't survive in space/always have to wear a space suit (Doof even puffed up in "Out to Launch" when he stuck his head outside without a helmet on, and Perry made sure to put a helmet on him when he was going spaceward in "The Doof Side of the Moon")?

Oooh, okay, furthest chicken. Nice.

Aww, the dragon's shielding them! Reminds me of How to Train Your Dragon when Toothless was protecting Hiccup from the flames

WOW, that is an EPIC remix of Perry's theme music!!! Holy crud, there's not as much background music as usual in this movie, but the music that is there goes HARD.

Bwahaha, to quote Maui: "The chicken lives!"

Oh my god, Baljeet really likes petting zoos? Also, I guess the farmer's last name is McDonald??

Beverly Hills + Beverly Hills adjacent...why XD

The chicken still lives!!

Okay, so she's alive.

Ah, so that’s why the mammoth got flung.

Aw, I wish Jeremy and Stacy had had more of an action scene after gearing up.

Okay, see, this lesson she's learned? How if this movie was canon, none of the rest of the summer would have been possible? MMmmmmmmmyeah.

Wait, so the American police are just taking the aliens?? No special forces or anything?? They're ALIENS.

LAWRENCE, DON'T TOUCH THAT!!

OH MY GOSH!!!!!!!!!! I WAS NOT EXPECTING THAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Welp, it took me 5 hours to watch this 1 hr 24 min movie...wowza. I forgot to write it when they occurred, but I didn’t like that the alien lady’s blinking had a sound effect in that one scene or that they used the Wilhelm scream during the final battle. I do wish there’d been more Perry and Doof interactions + some more Stacy, but what we did get was good. There were some pacing problems (too much alien screentime), but the excellent interactions between the PnF gang made up for them. Also, I genuinely laughed at at least two handfuls of moments! Anyway: a good movie!! I'm shocked--i'm so picky, and I haven't liked anything since "Last Day of Summer!" I mean, it's definitely an OVA/not canon, but still!! Solid 8/10.

[realm-sweet-realm]

Like it Never Happened, chapter 1: Welcome Back

Sorry this is late. I don’t know if this is going to be a one-off or if there will be more. Either way, I hope you enjoy this post-ink hell Samsie story.

---

Susie’s first day back in the real world had gone so well. After she’d tumbled out of the ink machine, which had been moved into a government research facility after Henry Stein had escaped their dimension and alerted the authorities, she’d been greeted by the researchers there. A worker on site had helped connect her to her nearest living relative and arranged her to meet with a lawyer in roughly the same area a few days later- as one might imagine, many strange legal and practical difficulties are bound to pop up when one is assumed dead for nearly twenty years. After that, she’d a long trip back to her sister, who had welcomed her with tear-filled eyes and open arms. She’d gotten to pet her sister’s German Shepard and eat real food for the first time in ages. After she’d settled into the guest room, there was only one decision left for Susie to make, and she thought she was ready. Taking a deep breath, she dialed the number that the woman at the research lab had given her. She’d been told that the man it belonged to wasn’t sure if she’d want to talk, but had wanted to give her the option.

“Hello?” a voice answered. Was that how Sammy had sounded before his inking? Susie couldn’t remember.

“Hello, is this Sammy Lawrence?”

“Yes, and this is?”

“Susie Campbell. The woman who revived me gave me your number. She said that you wanted to speak with me, but only if I was willing to. So… what is it, Sammy?”

“I just wanted to see how you were doing. I sent the same message to Jack, too, and a few others that I knew before everything happened. I guess after being their leader for so long, it just felt weird to suddenly be out and be told that it was in someone else’s hands.”

Susie blushed. “Oh.”

“What? What is it?”

“Sorry, I guess I was just jumping to conclusions. I thought that you might’ve given me this number because you wanted… I don’t know- forgiveness, or…” the thought honestly seemed to silly to say aloud now. And Susie wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to see him- lord knew what a tangled ball of emotions that was- but, she did sort of want him to want to see her.

A slightly irritable tone crept into Sammy’s warm voice. “I’m not begging you for forgiveness. Same way I’m not blaming you for- well, you know. Point is, let’s leave that world behind us.”

“Okay. Sorry, I kind of only got out this morning.” She paused. “Do you ever see any of the others, Sammy? Do you still talk?”

“Not really. I still talk to some of my cult members over the phone, but they’ve all kind of scattered to the winds. Where are you living right now?”

Finally, an indication that he wanted to see her! “I’m about an hour from New York City. I’m living with my sister right now. Of course, I’m going to try and get a job and my own place as soon as possible, but yeah, for now I’m here.”

“That’s wonderful. I’m living in New York. So… would you be willing to see me? Not as a date- just as an ex-ink creature to ex-ink creature sort of thing.”

“That sounds perfect.”

“So, tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

So, the next day, Susie found herself in New York City, waiting in a Café for Sammy to arrive. This was exciting, and a little nerve-wracking. Would they get along as though nothing had happened? Would she scared and wary around him, just as she had been between her transformation into Alice and her imprisonment? She hadn’t noticed it until she was back in the bustling city, but she had gotten awfully jumpy- like a part of her hadn’t realized that death wasn’t lurking around each corner anymore. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too obvious to Sammy. And then- would Sammy be different as well?

Finally, Sammy arrived. He looked just about the same as he always had- the scientists had really done a good job at reconstructing their bodies. The fact that they’d neglected to put details like pores or veins on their skin made them look either like wax figures or like airbrushed models, depending on who you asked.

“Hey. Enjoying being human again?” Sammy asked, sitting down across from her.

“Sure beats the alternative. So, how long have you been out?”

“Thirty-two days. Oh my God, are they still handing out those, ‘your new body’ brochures?”

Susie laughed. “The ones that are half like one of those books you give kids who are goin’ through puberty and half like an ad for a super-realistic doll? Yep. I bought us some scones, by the way.”

Sammy took one and thanked her. “I never thought of them that way, but that hits the nail on the head. ‘Make sure to wash properly! Your hair and skin are like real!’ Yeah. Sure they are. Real enough, though.”

“And I just love the fact that they decided to give me a pulse, but only on my left wrist. I mean, what- did they think that I’d complain if I couldn’t check my ‘heartrate’?”

“Wait, you have a pulse?”

“Oh, is that new?”

“I guess. I wouldn’t spend an extra month in the studio for it, that’s for sure!”

Susie laughed. “Oh my God. So someone did complain about it!”

Sammy laughed a little as well. “So, do you have anything that you always told yourself that you’d do the second you were out of that place?”

“Well, we had some plants in my area of the studio. They were the same colour as everything else, of course- and they felt like paper. Only living thing that I wasn’t destroying and they only made the place feel deader. I told myself that if I ever got out, I’d never take living things for granted again.”

Sammy smiled. “Yeah. I was a lot like that, too. Well, it’s your first day out. Want to go appreciate some living things?”

Susie heartily agreed to the idea, and so as soon as the two of them were finished with their scones, Sammy led her to a greenhouse. Susie loved it. There were flowering plants in every possible colour. Sammy ended up buying her one that she could keep in her room- a beautiful purple flowering plant called a “Gloxinia.” For a moment, the two of them could have almost forgotten that anything had happened, and for Sammy that was rare. It seemed to Sammy that almost everything was aesthetically different now, and he had never quite shaken off the feeling that he was some kind of time traveller. With Susie here now, though, gushing over stuff like she used to, he almost wanted to kiss her and ask her if she wanted to see Kings Row at one of the new fancy in-colour theatres.

After walking Susie to the bus stop, she’d stopped and looked back at him, as though considering giving him a kiss. Sammy hadn’t stopped her. Maybe, he thought, he should have.

He couldn’t base their relationship on the lie that nothing had happened. Something had happened. And Sammy felt it the moment her bus had taken off. He’d heard something- he wasn’t sure what- that reminded him of the Projectionist’s roar and stumbled away in fear so quickly that he nearly ran into oncoming traffic. He was used to that kind of thing by now, and was able to take a few deep breaths and calm down, the only consequence of his outburst being a few strange looks. It hadn’t been that way when he’d only been out a few days. Something had happened. And if Susie hadn’t felt it yet, she would.

It would be nice if they could support each other through this. But their relationship had been so flimsy back in the 1930s. Could it even survive while they were both battling demons? Not unless it was much stronger than it was back then. And Sammy was tempted to just let things keep going in the direction they were going, to let things sort themselves out. Things would not be as picture perfect as this… (is it still called a first date when you were dating decades ago and never really broke up so much as betrayed each other horribly and became bitter enemies who did horrible violent things to each other while under the influence of a supernatural substance which is no longer in the picture?) outing, moreso than it was for all relationships compared to their honeymoon phase- that was for sure. But, if they were both enjoying it, what was the harm? They were different people now. Maybe they could make it work.

[kibfpatiyxparagpsiqa]

right. added that, and it’s literally just completely done now.

enjoy.

Danny has to admit, it's fun to hang around as Phantom. Even if it gives people opportunity to shoot at him, walking places just doesn't have the same feel as flying. And it doesn't get everyone to shoot at him. A lot of citizens, young ones especially, just think he's pretty cool. When he isn't invisible, they're the ones most likely to try to talk to him. And unlike, say, the ones who yell, Danny's willing to have a conversation. "Yo, Danny Phantom!" And Danny's over there in seconds, his legs quickly reforming as he stands before them. "Hey."

The person who'd called seems suddenly less willing to talk. Danny's used to people being afraid by now, though it's still weird, but even weirder is the times like now when they aren't afraid but starstruck. Someone else wearing a bandanna around their neck picks up. "Hi. Our friend's in the hospital right now." "Sorry." "Nah, you take more hits than all of us combined. But like, she drew you this thing, to thank you, but she didn't think you'd see it. However, Luke here was gonna show you. Luke, phone." Luke, still tongue-tied, unlocks and hands over his phone. The kid scrolls through the photos on the phone. Recently, the people in town are trying to really show their appreciation for Danny. He thinks it might be because of some recent visitors, one of which Danny found out was a ghost, nonhostile guy who still travelled with is friends. The whole group talked about what it's like for ghosts, how recognition and generosity matter. Danny still has their phone number. The kid finds what they're looking for. Danny holds the phone carefully as he looks at the picture. They're admonishing Luke for his terrible folder structures. It's a really sick picture. If Danny were at all willing to risk his cell number getting out, he'd ask them to text it to him. He really likes the particular pose and lighting, and they got his face exactly right, just like a mirror. Well, mirrors half of the time. But the shapes are the same! He grins at Luke while he hands the phone back. "Dude, that's so sweet! Do you like, think she'd let me see the actual physical one?" Luke has found his voice! "Yeah! Terry would actually love that. It's in her art folder, we brought it to the hospital room... not sure when or if you can visit." "Dude, just tell me when. Flag me down sometime, just, yeah. I'll bring my phone, get my own picture." "Awesome." The two other kids with them, at this point, are still messing around, but noticeably less than they were before he came over. When one notices he might leave, they walk over, and the last friend follows. "Uh, Phantom?" "Yeah?" "Can I get a picture of your logo?" "Sure. Why?" The kid swipes open their phone and he stands on the ground in front of them while they snap a photo. "D, P, oh. Never seen it this close before. Right, I'm making a collage of superheroes, and I thought, wait. I should add a real superhero who lives here! Any preference on who you're next to?" "Depends. Marvel or DC?" "More obscure heroes from both." Danny thinks about it. It's been a while since he's thought about this much. Real superheroics have kind of monopolized his focus for a while now. "Hmm. You got Captain Marvel on there?" "Yeah I do! I mean, she shouldn't be obscure. That's kind of the theme here. Too underrated." Danny nods. "These poor unfortunate souls. But yeah, I love the space origins." "Ha, what planet are you from?" "Not a planet... Aliens are cool, but there's a portal to an actual other dimension in your hometown, which is equally cool and also real." The kid can't refute that. His friend, bored, tries to throw an orange slice at him. He misses, but Danny catches it in his mouth. The formerly-bored friend turns out to be a vicious meanie. "You just can't dodge anything, can you. Are you always trying to eat what your enemies throw at you?" Danny is hurt, truly. He puts his hand over his heart and makes his best wide-eyed expression of sorrow. "Gasp. After all I do for you specifically, eating all those explosive blasts before you can, this is the thanks I get. Throw an orange at yourself, why don't you. Maybe you should practice dodging." The kid throws a whole orange this time, which Danny catches in his hand before peeling. "Oh, delicious inciendiary pain." He debates trying to hit himself in the chest and just grow another mouth there, before realizing that's horrifying. He just eats more orange slices. "So like. Ghosts can eat?" The kid with the bandanna seems curious. Danny shrugs. "I don't know. Ghosts can at least taste." He really doesn't know. Danny isn't quite a ghost. "Do you like to?" "Don't get the chance much. But sure, rather taste sweeter stuff than active plasma." He shoots a look at the orange kid, who has an orange in each hand now. Is that why their pockets are so full? They throw the oranges fast enough he reflexively goes intangible. He hears them hit the road behind him, then salutes the other kids and takes his leave. -----(can anybody tell me how to add lines proper?) It's gotten out really quickly that ghosts can eat. Not a lot of incidents involving that have happened, so Danny blames the sudden awareness everybody has of that on the internet. And a couple people are spreading the word that offerings to spirits are appreciated greatly, Danny's pretty sure those people also follow the web log of those paranormal investigators with the ghost. People have started asking if he'd like to share food they have on hand. Danny feels awkward, because he does already eat food at his own house, because he is alive. But then, the people might do that anyways if they knew that? They're trying to show their appreciation. And it's not like he couldn't just avoid their offers if he wanted, easily! Nobody's exactly chasing him down for this, just asking, when they have opportunities. He really does appreciate it too. Most everything tastes better when it's from someone whose life you've saved, or their wellbeing or family member or just their car. So Danny does usually accept whenever people offer to buy him things, or share what they have. Sure, he eats at home, but then sometimes he's pulled away before he can eat breakfast, or dinner, or anything. When people approach him at those times, he really doesn't even want to argue. So he doesn't.

Some of his older fans make similar offerings, but from meals they made through their own efforts. Those ones are also sweet. He's heard of the taste of victory, but the taste of gratitude is great. Danny likes knowing that people appreciate what he does, however they show it, and this is more convenient than all the cards he has in a locked box in his mattress, along with the other gifts, which he finds harder and harder to hide. He vastly appreciates the art, but his parents wouldn't really get this interest as anything other than suspicious. So the food is a welcome gift, even if returning containers to the right people can be difficult. He likes the sweets, but he actually likes salty things better, and after someone asks him about preferences a lot of people get interested. It's not a large percentage of the population, more those who especially like him and who are interested in cooking and baking, but a lot more people are starting conversations with him as Phantom than ever did before. He feels more appreciated. Some people yell at him because they dislike him, but gifts like these feel more tangible, like they outweigh that, even if people already cheered for him. And again, really convenient if he misses his planned meals. Danny's a fan. ------- Rhys is popping gum across the table while Jill continues talking about the annoyance of spices. Blah blah why does everyone use like no spices blah. Benjamin's late again, but as he dashes in and skids into the booth, the mess that is his clothes says it was probably under extenuating circumstances. "Did you forget your backpack?" Rhys swirls their drink with their straw. "Oh, oh crud it's probably still under there." He puts his head in his hands, and Jill pats his head in sympathy for whatever happened. "It must not have phased with me..." Jill shifts her legs like the restless shark she is. "Phased? There was an attack?" "Seems reasonable. Sure, it wasn't on the news, but at this point that's no surprise. There's barely a consensus on how many there are in a week, but too many to fit with regular news." Rhys sticks their gum to an empty wrapper. "But yeah. Why were you getting phased through anything, Benj?" "Um. Phantom. He saved me, I was caught in a collapse, a building was just. Fell." "Shit Benj, are you okay?" Jill's holding onto Benjamin now, like to keep him safe. "You didn't have to come here, do you need medical attention?" Benjamin shakes his head. "It wasn't dangerous! Just, dusty, and I couldn't get out. I'm glad Phantom heard me, though, my mobile wasn't working." "You sure you're okay Benny?" "Yeah. I think my clothes have it worse than I do. And my poor backpack." "F." Rhys leans against the wall, stretching their feet across the booth's bench. "This probably doesn't do you much of a favor in the long run, though. I mean, you thought that crush was bad before? Phantom just carried you out of a building. Tell me, Benj, did he take you by the hand, was it bridal-style?" "Hey Rhys? Shut up in those blue jeans." "Shut up in those blue jorts." Jill cracks a grin. "Shut up 'cause it's blue Jill." They do a mock-bow toward Jill, before Benjamin keeps talking. "All jokes aside, I really wanna thank him somehow. Uh, Phantom. Do you guys have any ideas? Because I don't think my skills in the area of writing are gonna be much help." "Au contraire Benj, I'm sure it'll be excellent help impressing your new boyfriend." "Shut up, I mean it." Jill looks at Rhys, and Rhys shuts up. "Uh, a bunch of people are like giving him food... Do you think he'd appreciate that? I could help, I kind of want to, you're my friend and I'm glad he saved you." She goes very quiet, like she already thinks it was stupid to even suggest. Rhys shrugs, but is smiling. "Sure, if you think he'll have your taste in extra-spicy." "Okay, I am NOT saying that everything needs to fucking BURN, but SOME PEOPLE are WEAK, and spices are meant to be USED and not in INFINITESIMALS," "Come on Rhys he's a ghost, we could probably put tylotoxin in it and he'd thank us. He'd thank us anyway, because Jill is fantastic at this and her idea was excellent." "Oh, cool. Thanks." Rhys shoots up, their face lighting up. "Oh my god, dudes, we should so totally actually do that though." "UH, it was just an example," "I'm not sure where we would get tylo," Rhys hits their hands on the table. "No, guys. He loves jokes, he loves MORBID jokes, he IS a ghost and he'd totally survive it! And again, he'd think it was so funny. All Benji's idea, of course. I'm so proud of you I could die." "Are you sure it won't do anything?" "I mean, he gets tossed around all the time and heals up quick. And this is *poison*, the type that works on *humans*. And if you're so unsure we can add a non-fatal amount, just in case he wants a kiss after." Benjamin nods slowly. Jill is already on board. "Alright but really, where are we going to get tylotoxin?"

---------- Danny had been liking the recent trend of tangible appreciation, but. Damn it all. He didn't have much right to feel betrayed, since he'd let his guard down. Nobody could have done this before anyway. He'd practically enabled them. He was still feeling pretty freaking angry at whoever had poisoned him. He doesn't know exactly who that was, though, since he's not sure when exactly they did it. -- The night he noticed it, he was just going home in the evening. It had a good chance to be one of those nights with no attacks to present issues, especially given that it was summer. He was walking instead of flying home, mainly out of preference, but started feeling tired enough to change his mind. After getting home and landing in his room, he was all prepared to wait another hour or so for ghostly latecomers, and yet so very, very ready to go to sleep. As soon as he turned human, though, he abruptly doubled over. It was a very abrupt, intense pain, and although he managed to get up when the shock wore off, it showed no signs of lessening. He pushed his shoes off and lied on his bed, grabbing for his phone. He couldn't tell where it was coming from. As he dialed for Tucker, he tried to think about the most recent attack, or the one before that. He didn't remember any wounds. Could it have been poison? "Danny, what's up." "Tucker, hey, uh." Tucker was already sighing over the phone. "You have a problem then?" "Don't know what would give you that idea..." "You always do this, man." His tone made it sound like Danny should know what exactly "this" was. "Besides, I'd hope you aren't calling about anything that could wait at this hour." "Okay fine. ...This hurts, like, a lot." Danny felt very tired, now, and his attempts to sit up weren't doing so hot. "Shit, man. What happened?" "I don't know. I think it's poison, some kind. Started hurting when I got home... When I was human." "What? That's not... Hmmm." Tucker sets his phone down. Probably checking something-or-other. Danny was feeling worse by the second. It hurt a lot, and it hit him that he might want to leave his house. He didn't think he could make it through an interaction with anyone here. Of course, he also felt like he didn't have the energy to get up and leave. Man, at least he wasn't throwing up. But now his head was hurting, and he curled up trying not to make a sound. He noticed he was clutching his phone now, hard, and lightened up before it could crack. Did Tucker say something? Shit, could poison do that? Concussions did that, was it a headache thing? "Uhhhh I wanna go. Your place? Sam's place, going there cool." Danny flipped his phone shut in and instant and slipped into a ghostly form before he even checked the door. Remembering that one second later, he zipped his head around to find it was fortunately shut, with no sign that anyone else at home had seen him. His thoughts already felt clearer, and the pain felt much more muted. Now, being Phantom dulled most of the pain, though there was still an ache in his stomach. Did that mean it was poison he ingested? Who'd have done that? He's still not sure. After flying to Sam's place, he discovered that she was on a video call with Tucker. He's really glad he can count on them. "Sam. Tucker. Sorry Tucker, actually. I don't think I was thinking clearly." He sat on the bed, which appeared to be different than the last he saw. Change of scenery, he guessed. "It doesn't hurt so much now, and I can think. It's mostly hurting my stomach now, actually. Did I eat poison?" Sam got him to lie down on her bed, which felt pretty weird considering he was still wearing boots. But he sat up to look at Tucker on the screen, who was talking about what they knew. "Most of your enemies don't use poison. And yeah, Skulker shows up a lot, but he's an outlier, and it's been a while since he was here anyway." "Yeah, 'cause we /totaled/ his suit last time." Danny grinned, and for a brief second so did Tucker. Then he got back to it. "Most poisons wouldn't take that long to affect someone, without /some/ sign. Nothing?" Sam nodded as Tucker spoke, probably out of further poison knowledge. Danny didn't think so. Skulker was about a week or two ago, by now? "No. I mean, I felt tired before flying home, but that was still only today." Sam jumped on his words. "Like, abnormally tired? Is this another symptom?" "It could be. I think it also stopped when I went ghost, too, so there's another point." They listened to Tucker adding that detail to his notes, before Sam looked out the window, furrowing her brow. "The thing is, it's obviously a human poison, if that's true. Which could still be a ghostly enemy, but if you can get out of it so easily then what's the point? Especially since other stuff, like sickness, leaves quicker, when your temperature doesn't already repel them." Danny frowned. "Did someone try to poison me? Human me? Why would someone do that?" "I don't know! Who'd hate you enough for that, most people just don't really care! The only person who comes to mind is Vlad, which seems unlikely." "Yeah, pretty sure he still needs me alive for some reason or another." Even with the cloning efforts, Danny 1.0 wasn't obsolete yet. Sam walked to the other side of the room, to a table. It was a very small table, but as Sam lifted the edge of the long tablecloth, she grabbed a large bag from beneath. She returned with this in hand, her first-aid kit showing from within. "We're hoping it will help if we can tell what kind of poison it is. Might at least give us an idea of where to look." Danny grimaced, but nodded. "Yeah okay, alright, should probably switch back for that? Yeah." Before his friends could protest, he flipped forms to his human self. Danny immediately was forced to lie completely down, without the energy to continue sitting. "Urrrrrr." The pain hit once more at the same time. Was it worse than before? He closed his eyes tightly. "Danny! Damn it. Okay, his breathing is really fast." As she turned toward him, her voice sounded louder. He tried to focus on what she said. "We'll try to get through this quickly, but just turn back if you need to, alright?" He didn't respond. "Alright, temperature. Tucker, you're recording all this, yeah?" After Tucker presumably confirmed, Danny felt something press across his forehead. "Oh, man. Feels way too warm. I'm not liking this..." Tucker's voice from behind Sam said something Danny couldn't make out. It was probably bad. "Okay," Sam said, and Danny couldn't hear the rest. Then something poked his arm, right on the wrist. He opened his eyes, to find he was in Sam's room. She was holding his hand, and he wanted to ask about that, but he couldn't seem to. She seemed to be getting upset about something. He closed his eyes again. It felt like only a second before he managed to open them again. He tilted his head to the side to see what was up, but there was a curtain in the way. Apparently Sam's new bed had curtains on it. He moved to shift them out of the way, and found Sam sitting at her computer, frowning. "Hey, I think the poison went away. It doesn't hurt anymore." She turned around in her chair with wide eyes, before remembering he was weird and partially relaxing. "Are you sure, Danny? That was fast." "I'm thinking pretty clearly, so yeah. Not sure I remember all of that, but yeah." Sam seemed skeptical. "How did you just get the poison out of your body?" Danny shrugged. "Ghost stuff? I dunno, I'm willing to blame it on my good old fighting /spirit/." He smiled at her, but she didn't seem convinced. "Let me try something." Sam got up and walked to stand by where he was lying. "I'm not so sure it's over, but this should test whether it's done." Before Danny could say a word, she'd grabbed his arm and given it a scratch with her nails. "Hey!" he had to shout, touching where she'd clawed. Looking at it, it wasn't bleeding, but some skin was torn. Then Danny realized it didn't hurt. Sam looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Nothing? Probably not quite over, then. Besides, you were only out for a few minutes after your heart stopped, and I doubt all of the poison left your system in that time." "Guess it hasn't given up the ghost, then. But I won't either. I must be thinking with my core right now, which explains why I'm not feeling it. I hope it gets out soon, or else it's going to suck when my brain comes back online. Or worse, my nerves." It did get worse. Even despite the fact he didn't feel the tiredness as a ghost, he couldn't manage to get anything done, since at any point another function, with its associated pain sensors, could come back. He had to stay at Sam's the whole week, and as his human form started working with the rest again, even getting to a different room of the house was an effort. Worse still was when his brain activity did return, and he wished it didn't, because this time it didn't stop his heart. He just had to stay that way, in extreme pain, waiting for it to be over and getting annoyed by how hard it was to focus on anything. By the end of it, he was outright wishing for another illness or poison he could just vomit out. ------- He still doesn't know who did it. Not exactly. But he's figured it out. It must have been someone who gave him food. It must have been someone who doesn't know human poison doesn't work on ghosts, because anyone who knows he's a halfa is unlikely to be involved. And now he's just cursing himself for trusting anybody like that. The worst week of his life, that must have been. After all, the second worst week featured a /fast/ and painful death. ------- Luke's been trying to get Phantom's attention again for ages now, with Terry out of the hospital. After disappearing, the hero has been more reclusive, less willing to talk to people. He hasn't been accepting gifts, anymore, but he'd said he'd like to see Terry's work! His friends eventually convince him to give it up. Phantom doesn't want to talk, right now. ------- What happened to Phantom? He's shown a definite change in behaviour, talking less to civilians. He's declined all offerings since his disappearance. The first time he was seen in a week, he moved differently, almost as if he hadn't moved in a while. Hypothesis: He's been trapped within some place in the Ghost Zone, immobile, and interdimensional time dilation made it a longer stay than we've experienced. He's having trouble acclimating back to Amity. ------- They haven't talked about what they did. Not while Phantom stayed out of commission, the whole week. And not for another week, as the fallout of whatever happened became clear. As it became clear the blame was on them. But Benjamin's guilty conscience wouldn't let him keep silent forever, even if he was afraid to say it very loud. "I wish I hadn't gone to that stupid first-person workshop. Wish we hadn't gotten attacked, and I wish he never freaking pulled me out." He glares into his cup. "Benny, it's not your fault." Jill says, probably about to say something 'helpful'. But Benjamin starts first, and it might not /help/ but it feels just a bit better to blame someone else. "Of course not, I'm not the one who thought it was a /good/ idea to poison a hero." Rhys, previously silent, meets every challenge at equal measure. "Oh, yeah, because it was so stupid. I was totally right, if any one of us /bothered/ to check whether poison affects stupid ghosts. Or said something! You could have /told/ your little boyfriend the secret ingredient wasn't exactly love. Bet he'd know if this could be excused under 'love & war'." "Like you know one thing about love, you black widow. Do /you/ poison everyone you date? It wasn't my /idea/ to make him sick, I was grateful!" "So was I Benj! I'm so glad you're here with me it hurts, and I just thought surely, someone as dead as I am inside would appreciate a joke, but the joke fell flat. It fucked him up. I fucked up, yeah!" And everything's quiet a minute. Benjamin drinks his odd choice in summer beverage, and finds that it's cooled down some. Jill speaks up, quietly. "I poisoned somebody." Sitting sideways in the booth, she curls in on herself, upset. "Jill, no, it wasn't your idea, it was mine. Rhys lifts their sunglasses off. "I'm the one who actually seriously meant that." "I cook and I poisoned somebody. What am I gonna do?" Benjamin tries to offer her a back pat, but her legs are in the way. He pats her knees instead. "You didn't know it would poison him. You had every reason to think it would be fine." "Isn't there a rule or something that says you're not allowed to cook anymore if you poison somebody?" "That's a negligence thing though. Or incompetence. Definitely doesn't count if we gave you wrong information." Jill sips her drink through the straw, ignoring the whipped cream on top. A bad sign. "I never want to do that again." "What- Jill, you love to cook! You passionately rant about spices and-" "I mean the poisoning." "Oh, yeah, totally. Don't do that." -------- Danny Fenton doesn't know every person in this city, but he feels like he's at least seen most of them. Even if he's never talked to them, he's probably indirectly saved their life at some point. The ones he's least directly saved tend to hate him the most. Yet sometimes, even people he doesn't recognize will show him kindness. Danny likes feeling appreciated, more than even as much shouting as his detractors do can take from him. He'll talk to people again, and not just to save them. He'll trust people again, even if it's hard right now. And maybe, years later, he'll be able to hear the true story and laugh. But for now, Danny needs to think.

[emeraldwaves]

Title:  How He Shines Pairing:  Miritama Rating: M Word Count: 2,425 Read on Ao3 Summary:  

Mirio is Tamaki's sun; warm, shining brightly, and lighting up his world in ways Tamaki never knew to be possible.

And Tamaki is far too terrified to admit he loves him.

Thank you to  @amaisenshi for reading this!

Mirio is Tamaki's sun; warm, shining brightly, and lighting up his world in ways Tamaki never knew to be possible.

Tamaki prefers the protective covering of the darkness and night. He can hide away easily, ignoring the other children who try to pull him from his safe and comfortable shadows.

Friends aren't something Tamaki seeks out. Other kids are loud, and stressful. Most of them run around showing off their quirks, and quite frankly, Tamaki prefers to stand in the corner.

Mirio, however, is a presence Tamaki can't ignore. Ever since his first day at this new school, Mirio has tried to insert himself into Tamaki's life.

"Tamaki!" Mirio waves, his stubby little fingers wrapping around Tamaki's thin ones. "Come play!"

The words hit Tamaki right in the center of his chest. They twist around his heart, causing it to clench, alarms sounding in his mind.

"P-Play..." he chokes out.

"Yeah! We all want to play with you!" Mirio cheers, tugging on his hand though Tamaki won't budge. Instead he shakes his head, wishing Mirio would let go of his hand so he could retreat to the wall.

Tamaki expects Mirio to leave; the other kids are waiting.

Instead, Mirio takes a seat. "How about we play here, just the two of us!"

Tamaki blinks. Normally all the other kids spend recess together, but Mirio is willing to stay here and play... alone?

Before he can stop himself, Tamaki nods. "Okay."

"What are you doing over here anyway?" Mirio says, looking around at the bushes Tamaki has chosen to sit near. He prefers to be as far away from the commotion as possible.

"I'm... looking for butterflies," he says softly. He expects Mirio to laugh at him.

Instead, Mirio's eyes widen. "I'll help you!" The smile Mirio gives him is one Tamaki doesn't think he will ever forget.

~~

"You're... my sun, Tamaki," Mirio says, the two of them walking back to Mirio's place after a long day at school.

"What?" Tamaki mutters.

They're in middle school now; a gruesome time. People seem to be at their worst; teasing anyone who is remotely different, bragging about how strong their quirks are.

Tamaki wants nothing more than to be beyond this phase of his life. Not that he thinks high school will be much better.

"I just mean you inspire me!" Mirio says, laughing.

Tamaki stares. He finds it hard to believe he could inspire Mirio. His quirk is annoying at best. He's stopped eating takoyaki because his fingers would randomly transform into octopus tentacles and it brings far too much attention to himself.

It's a shame, because he really likes takoyaki.

"What?" He repeats the question, still confusion by what Mirio could possibly mean. Admittedly, he's a little jealous of Mirio's quirk, allowing the blond to disappear whenever he wants. Tamaki would kill to disappear and hide away, surrounded in complete and total darkness.

When Mirio talks about it, he always sounds terrified, but Tamaki thinks it sounds like heaven.

"Sometimes when I'm floating in nothingness, I think about you and how I have to get back to you. I feel like I'm falling through an alternate dimension, and you're.. an invisible force... a string tied to my finger pulling me back up."

Tamaki sighs. Mirio is the cheesiest person he's ever met, but Tamaki is so easily pulled in. He blushes. Somehow Mirio always gets him to do that. He makes his heart flutter in his chest. "I dunno about that," he mutters. How could he be the one to pull Mirio back to existence when Tamaki can barely handle his own?

Mirio is everything Tamaki could ever want and yet he knows not to try and chase what he doesn't deserve.

Mirio laughs and wraps his arm around Tamaki's neck. "We're going to be the best hero duo of all time!" His laugh is like a warm, summer breeze. It floats around him, and envelopes his body in a cozy blanket.

He can't help but smile. "Yeah, maybe we will be," he says softly. Tamaki is certain Mirio can do whatever he puts his mind to.

There's no way Tamaki is Mirio's sun, not when Mirio shines so brightly himself.

~~

When they're first years at U.A, Tamaki knows Mirio is trying his best. He struggles with his quirk, and he sees the frustration littered across his features.

Mirio is always so positive, Tamaki doesn't know how he does it. Mirio pushes forward, while Tamaki wonders how he even got accepted into the hero track.

"Tamaki, I want to get better," he says, clenching his fist. He slams it against Tamaki's living room table and he jumps, startled by the loud noise.

"M-Mirio..." he stammers.

Mirio sighs. "I'm sorry, I'm trying not to get discouraged. The sports festival is coming up and I know I'm going to lose."

"Don't say that..."

"I am! Every time I think I'm getting better I feel like I fall further and further into nothingness," he says.

It hurts to see Mirio like this; physically it hurts. Tamaki feels like he's connected to Mirio's pain, his struggle... and he knows how brightly he can shine.

He wants the rest of the world to see it.

Though sometimes he wants to keep Mirio all for himself.

Pursing his lips, Tamaki takes a deep breath. He knows he can say whatever to Mirio, there will never be any judgement. Besides... Mirio was the one who told him this in the first place.

"Can you still feel the string?" he asks.

"Connecting me to you?" Mirio says without missing a beat. "Mhm. I told you, it's why I come back."

"Mm..." Tamaki silently wonders if maybe they're soulmates... a red string of fate connecting them like in all the cheesy stories. It would make sense why Tamaki doesn't care about anyone as much as he cares about Mirio.

"I'll try and tug on it."

"What?"

"So you can come back faster," Tamaki whispers.

Mirio snorts and starts to laugh, leaning his head against Tamaki's. "You're too good to me Tamaki."

No, Mirio is too good to him, and Tamaki loves him with every fiber of his being.

~~

"Ta~ma~ki~, I know what you're thinking about," Nejire hums, leaning in close to him.

Tamaki is trying to think about school. Exams are done and even with the break coming up, he wants to focus on training and controlling his quirk better. It's why he's a part of the hero track.

Plus, he can finally eat takoyaki again.

"Nejire-san," he mutters. "I'm focusing."

"Right!" she giggles, nudging him. "You're focusing on Mirio. We're about to be third years and don't you think he looks a little more muscular. He's looking really good," she hums.

Tamaki swallows. He wasn't thinking about that, but now he is. His dark eyes find Mirio and he stares.

Mirio really has filled out. He's stronger than ever, working harder than everyone else in their class. No one can compare to Mirio and honestly Tamaki is honored to be his friend.

But he's in love with him. He keeps that fact tucked away and hidden from everyone. Well, Nejire seems to have some idea, though Tamaki refuses to confirm it.

Mirio has always shone in Tamaki's eyes. He stares at him with such admiration and now it feels like something different entirely. Tamaki tries to swallow it down, but like his quirk, the feelings manifest themselves in the strangest of ways.

He stares at Mirio from time to time when he's supposed to be listening in class. His gaze falls to Mirio's lips when he speaks to him. His heart races faster when Mirio touches his shoulder, or hugs him, or drapes his arm around Tamaki's neck. All the touches are so casual, there's nothing special behind them. Tamaki knows Mirio doesn't think like this.

He's accepted it a long time ago. As many times as he's yearned to hold Mirio's hand or lean against him, or... or kiss him... Tamaki lets it go.

They're best friends. One of the only people Tamaki truly connects with. (Though admittedly, he doesn't hate when Nejire Hadou spends time with them now too.)

Mirio has always been there and Tamaki doesn't want to do anything to jeopardize that. He tries to let the feelings digest and disappear.

"He's the densest person when it comes to stuff like this!" Nejire giggles. "You're going to have to tell him. We're about to be third years! I think your pining has gone on long enough."

Tamaki glares, about to speak but Mirio comes over.

"Yo!" Mirio says, collapsing in the seat next to Tamaki. "How about we go celebrate exams being done!?"

A smirk pulls across Nejire's lips and Tamaki doesn't appreciate the look on her face. "Mmm. I can't," she whines. "My parents wanted me to come home to help them with some stuff around the house!"

"Well then me and Tamaki will go!" Mirio smirks, smacking Tamaki on the back with a hearty laugh.

As always it makes Tamaki's body tremble and heart throb with anticipation.

"Perfect!" Nejire says. "I'm sure I'll see you guys later during the break." She winks at Tamaki and he tries not to rush to the back wall.

~~

"How about takoyaki?" Mirio says, nudging Tamaki's side.

Tamaki nods, and Mirio leads the way, walking slightly ahead of him. Tamaki scuffs his feet against the ground, keeping his gaze down.

He feels like a fool.

Nejire's words about them almost being third years echo in his mind and he trembles at his own cyclical thoughts. Third years means soon they'll be out of school and they'll be the pro heroes they always wanted to be. They probably won't see each other every day, since they'll be working and Tamaki will have to deal with people who aren't Mirio.

It'll be another year of keeping his feelings to himself. He'll die with them if he has to. It's useless to ruin what he has.

If Mirio leaves, Tamaki will be in complete darkness, no string to pull him out, no other people to illuminate the world around him. As comforting as the darkness can be, it scares him now, after having Mirio for so long.

Mirio stops walking and turns around, folding his arms over his chest. "What's wrong?"

Tamaki freezes. "What?"

"Don't 'what' me, Tama... I know when something is bothering you," Mirio says. "In fact, I kinda thought Nejire made up a poor excuse about coming with us," he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. "I realized pretty quickly she left because you probably told her you wanted alone time."

Tamaki swallows and shakes his head. This is exactly what he was trying to avoid! He’s going to murder Nejire later.

"Uh... no?" he says, rubbing down his arm. "I didn't."

Mirio frowns, leaning towards him and Tamaki sucks in a sharp breath. Whenever he does that, Tamaki can see how smooth his skin is and he wants to touch him so bad...

"You're acting strange though," he sighs.

"I'm not..." he mutters.

"You are! You're being really quiet."

Tamaki let's out a huff and brushes past him. "I'm always quiet."

"It's different," Mirio whines. "It's a heavy quiet."

"Mirio..."

"Like you've got something on your mind but you don't wanna tell me and I don't get it Tamaki!" Mirio's distress is so genuine it makes Tamaki's heart hurt.

"...I'm fine."

"I refuse to get takoyaki until you tell me," Mirio smirks, looking rather proud of himself, as if he's just won every game he's ever played with Tamaki.

"Then let's go home," Tamaki says and makes his way over to the wall. He knows he probably looks like an idiot, but he just wants to press his face against it really hard in hopes that all of this will just go away.

"Tamaki... that's not home, that's a wall."

"Good enough."

Mirio sighs and makes his way over to the wall, leaning against it too. "Tell me, please. I'll face the wall too so you don't even have to look at me. But... you're kinda freaking me out! I keep thinking you might be mad at something I did, you've seemed so tense lately."

"..." Tamaki shakes his head.

"It's me, you can tell me anything."

"It's because it's you," Tamaki whispers.

"What?" Mirio snorts, "that makes no sense."

Tamaki swallows. Maybe he can say it out loud... just this once. Maybe he'll say it to the wall and not Mirio so the blond can't hear him.

"It's because I..."

Mirio stays silent. He doesn't push, he doesn't pressure. He never has. He's always patient, and this time he stares at the wall too. The scene is probably ridiculous, Tamaki thinks. Two high school students on the side of the road just staring at a random brick wall. He's an idiot.

"I... love you."

The words escape his mouth and he feels lighter for a split second, like he's falling into nothingness.

"Tamaki..."

"Please... I don't want you to answer..." Tamaki whispers, and he feels himself start to drop faster and faster, his heart leaping into his throat.

"You don't?"

"No..." he says, and he wants to scream, reach for someone as the world around him starts to suffocate him from how rapidly he falls.

But suddenly Mirio's fingers brush against his chin, catching him, grounding him against the earth. It's the string, he's tugging and pulling Tamaki back. He gently turns Tamaki to face him, leaning forward to brush their lips together, pecking him oh so gently.

Now Tamaki is floating, heading straight for the heavens his mind is so damn cloudy, euphoric with joy. Suddenly the sun comes into view, his sun; Mirio.

"I love you too, Tamaki," he smiles. His eyes are bright and gentle and Tamaki leans his shoulder against the wall, completely dumbfounded. "I-Is it really so shocking?! I-I mean it's only been years."

Tamaki's eyes widen. "What? Really?"

"Mhm!" Mirio says, holding his hand out. It's shaking, trembling in front of Tamaki's face. "I'm terrified right now... it's taking all of my being to not phase through this wall. I keep thinking you're going to say you're kidding."

Tamaki grabs his hand and steadies it. "I'm not."

"Thank goodness," Mirio laughs, lacing their fingers together. The sound is warm and it fills Tamaki's heart with so much love he think he might absolutely burst.

His world feels bright and full and Tamaki hopes it will stay this way, with Mirio, forever.

[exspiravited-a]

OFFICIAL BLOG TIMELINE OF SORTS:

15 bya -- Arceus is born

Born into a void of nothingness where neither time nor space existed, Arceus wasn’t sure where to begin with the universe. He had sentience, had the instinct to create, though had no idea where to start. Internal debating compelled him to split the void of nothingness, creating Mt. Coronet from the empty space, with Spear Pillar resting at the top. The thought of making the Hall of Origin had not yet occurred to him; he merely stayed at the peak of the mountain. He spent time thinking, debating, brooding, unsure of how to proceed. Loneliness was a damnable existence.

14.3 bya -- Arceus is wed

During his time atop Spear Pillar, he got a visit from a mysterious woman. She seemed impressed at the start of a new universe, spending time talking to Arceus and giving him ideas. He would soon learn she was the ruling goddess of another universe. Deantha had been plagued by the same indecision that he was. It was her suggestion that he create children for himself to fill the loneliness, and from her idea, he had several more. After a promise for her to return, he would spend time brainstorming. Yes, Arceus had thought about creating some sort of being to fill the void, but never children. The idea filled him with a newfound emotion of excitement.

In the following billion years between 15 bya and 14.3 bya, he and Deantha would speak more. Sometimes she would visit his universe, and other times he would visit her. Deantha helped him solidify his ideas for his children, suggesting that they could aid him in the creation of the universe. She also confided in him that she’d always wanted children of her own, yet her reproductive system simply didn’t allow it to happen. She especially wanted a daughter.

Naturally, they grew closer. Approximately 14.3 bya, Arceus took her hand in marriage. Unfortunately, due to her duties and his, they couldn’t live together. Arceus would return to his own universe reluctantly, heart swelling with nothing but love.

14 bya -- The Creation Trio and the universe are born

Dialga and Palkia were created first, respectively representing the aspect of time and space. Though his ons were incredibly young, they were able to aid Arceus slightly in the creation of the universe. A third child, Giratina, would soon be created. His only daughter would represent antimatter, setting off the catalyst he needed to spin the universe into being thanks to her energy. Yes, the trio were incredibly young, though like him, they worked off instinct at first, despite not fully understanding or knowing their powers. 

Stardust and light filled the black void above them, and the universe spiraled outwards brilliantly from Spear Pillar. Matter and antimatter clashed together, destroying each other in a brilliant display of colors. Energy rocketed across space, and time began to flow. It was at this point Arceus created his grand palace-- the Hall of Origin-- as a place for him and his children to live together in. A dimension for each of his children would be spun together. Giratina’s dimension doubled as a sort of “testing grounds” for Arceus for several millennia, as he brainstormed ideas of how a planet could look should he choose to create one.

13.8 bya -- The Sickness

After 200 million years together, Arceus’ wife soon was befallen with a terrible illness. He had been busy teaching his children about their powers, as well as creating. When he found out, he waited until he put his children to bed to slip out of his universe and to his wife’s. By the time he arrived, she had already slipped into a deep coma. Nobody understood what had happened and how it happened to quickly, as she had been perfectly fine the day prior. 

Arceus stayed with her for several hours until her heartrate slowed. The medical mages pronounced her dead. Grief struck him like a train, and he soon blamed himself for what had happened. Her body was taken away into a hidden part of the castle, being preserved with magic. For if her body was destroyed, her universe would go with it. Despite the immense grief and sadness he felt, he volunteered to take over her universe. They needed someone to maintain it to prevent it from eroding. Even if her body was preserved, the universe would begin to decay over billions of years if not kept in check. Arceus promised he would return, and he went back to his own universe.

Little did he know, he would be inflicted with the same ailment that Deantha had succumbed to.

The reason for her death was simple: the parasite tried to take her body and mind over. Her resistance brought her end. The parasite was smart, entering Arceus’ psyche and making him succumb to its control. 

“You wouldn’t want yourself dying, would you? To leave your universe in control of your children? They couldn’t handle the power. Surely they would die too.”

13.79 bya - 11 bya -- Tyranny

Arceus effectively changed overnight, becoming a much more angry individual filled with hatred and scorn. His children saw the worst of this. They were constantly berated by the man. His teachings on their powers came to an abrupt halt. The task was left to the trio of children no older than age six at this point. Giratina’s powers were especially violent and volatile. Mishaps were common in the Hall of Origin, which only enraged Arceus. 

The scorn he held towards his children was twisted and manipulated. Creating children was her idea. Arceus’ deep rooted sadness over the fact she never got to meet them became twisted and warped into hatred. It was her idea, and now she was dead. They were his creation, but her idea. His disdain towards Giratina was especially strong. “I’ve always wanted a daughter of my own,” she’d said. 

Giratina didn’t know why her father had become so mean. The dad she once held nothing but love and adoration for became a man she soon learned to fear. Formerly blissful nights full of pleasant dreams were filled with horrific nightmares. Giratina often clung to her brothers in the night, unable to stop the tears from falling. At this point in time, it was rare not to see her alongside Dialga and Palkia. She was determined to keep them safe from their father and his terror, no matter what it meant for her. 

It took her several hours to shake off the shock the first time she had been struck by her father. A slap to the face for speaking out of line and disrespecting him. Better her than her brothers... although they weren’t free from his reign either. With Arceus’ sons, he more often resorted to verbal and emotional abuse. This didn’t mean Arceus didn’t strike either of them if they stepped out of line or did something he didn’t like. Giratina suffered both verbal and emotional abuse, as well as physical. 

It was always a relief for the trio whenever it was bedtime. The bed they shared that was once filled with laughter and excited whispers was now quiet, besides Giratina’s soft crying. She felt bad when she kept her brothers awake, so she often waited until they were both asleep to cry. 

10.9 bya - 5.1 bya -- Separation

At this point, the trio was around 8 years old. Arceus was still as angry as ever, full of nothing but hatred. He would soon forcibly separate Giratina from her brothers, sending her to stay in a small, dark room in the back of the palace. Dialga and Palkia were also separated, as Arceus thought they were much too old to share a room now. While Giratina seeing her brothers was extremely forbidden, Dialga and Palkia were still allowed to see and talk to one another. 

Naturally, this didn’t stop Giratina from sneaking out of her room despite it locking from the outside. Being a dark and dragon type, she could travel under the door through the shadows. Her visits to her brothers were never very long, fearing she would be caught and punished. 

As the years ticked by, Giratina visited her brothers less and less. Fear and paranoia became deeply rooted in her mind after all of her years in solitude. She never spoke anymore. Arceus provided her with just enough food to survive. Giratina never talked to him. 

Darker thoughts soon overshadowed all else in her mind. Would it be better if she was dead? How easy would it be to sneak a knife back to her room? She was a monster, she was a destructive freak. 

Giratina would end up sneaking back a large kitchen knife with her on one of her forbidden excursions. She was never brave enough to go through will the task of ending her life. Each time when she thought she was able to, she wound up chickening out at the last second.

She would soon come to learn that she wished she had gone through with it.

5 bya - 1999 -- Banishment

Giratina, now 14 years old, was filled with dread the moment Arceus came and got her from her room. A portal was open in the throne room and part of her was filled with dread for what it meant for her. She fought back fiercely against her banishment, defying her father for the first time. The only thing that stopped her was his ultimatum. Either she goes, or her brothers go. It was enough to make her stop fighting back.

Approximately several years into her banishment, Giratina would soon die in the Distortion World due to starvation. Being in a different dimension with nowhere for her spirit to go, tied with the fact she felt deep anger for what had happened, she would soon wake up several hours later. Now she was a ghost and dragon type instead of a dark and dragon type. The fact that she died changed her personality and her thought process forever, holding a large amount of terror from that very fact. Terror soon turned to anger like all her emotions would. Her hand would phase through her chest and grip her now still heart, wrenching it free from her ribcage. It was merely dead weight now. The ache in her chest from old memories and regrets soon faded.

Years and years would come to pass. Giratina became irate. She would sharpen rocks against one another, trying and trying to kill herself again. Hoping that she would just stay dead. But she never did. She always came back. Back into her dimension of turmoil and despair, plagued with the horrific memories of her past.

The earth was created in her absence. She knew nothing of what happened to her brothers. She didn’t know anything about what had happened to the universe. All she knew was anger, sadness, and loneliness. Crushing boulders together was only fun for so long. Her strength had begun to plateau without any real opponents. She became so, so bored that she would talk to herself.

Billions upon billions of years would soon pass, crawling by agonizingly slow. On one fateful day while descending to the very bottom of her dimension -- something she’d been extremely hesitant to do -- she would find a golden, jagged orb. Upon holding it, her head would be full of whispers. Whispers goading her to leave, to escape her prison. As soon as she put the orb down, the voices would stop. When she picked it up, they would start again.

Holding the orb tightly in her hand, she would bring one of the mirrors down, looking at the outside world. Her entire body was petrified, unwilling to step through for several moments. Steeling herself, Giratina tentatively forced herself to walk through.

1999 - 2001 -- Hiding

Her first thoughts upon leaving the Distortion World were that she should have stayed. Earth was something that overwhelmed her the moment she stepped in, causing her a great amount of stress. The trees around her buckled and warped unnaturally, before exploding out of existence. 

The only thing nearby was a lake, followed by a small shack. Giratina immediately sought shelter in the rundown house, not caring that the roof was caved in on the second floor. The first floor had a bed. That was all she needed to live. Her terror prevented her from leaving for the next two years. She didn’t want to run into her father or her brothers should she go out. The thought was enough to make her weep. The creaking of the house reminded her to stay calm and vigilant, lest her powers would destroy her only place now to call home. 

As she lay upon the bed, tear filled eyes couldn’t help but stay on the orb. Upon holding it, she could feel power course through her veins. She felt her form maintain itself despite not being in the Distortion World. The orb had given her freedom. With a swift motion, she placed the orb in her ribcage-- where her heart would have been if she hadn’t tore it out.

2002 - 2007 -- Learning to live

The next following years were a big change for Giratina. She cleaned herself up and got herself better clothes, allowing her to be more presentable to the public eye. Many, if not all things on earth were foreign and new to her. Days were spent observing people in public and what they did. She observed how certain objects were used, and how people acted normal. Mimicking what they did was easy. It was simple to put on a fake facade and masquerade as someone she wasn’t.

Thoughts would wander to her family, specifically her brothers. She wondered if they hated her. She wondered if they cared. She wondered about a lot of things. Despite her emotions being volatile surrounding her siblings, Giratina couldn’t help but wonder about their wellbeing. Arceus’ unmistakable aura could be felt across the entire region, but Dialga and Palkia’s? Radio silence.

From 2003 to 2007, she spent her time travelling the Sinnoh region, trying to discern any clues of their whereabouts while familiarizing herself with the land she called home.

2008 -- The scourge of the gods

It’d been a few months since Giratina had returned from her travels. She rested at home, when a large amount of energy exploded outwards from Spear Pillar. It was enough to make her jolt up from bed, eyes full of terror. Her brothers. They were here, but... something did not feel right. Her ears rang as she sprung out of bed. There was no time to travel to Spear Pillar from where she was. She had to go through her world fast.

As she bolted from her house, her body was clouded in shadow as the true Renegade emerged. A large, glowing portal was opened upon the surface of her lake. The size of the portal was something she would not have been able to do in her human form. The familiar sights of the world greeted her, but she had no time to look for an access point to Spear Pillar. She had to make one, by tearing the very fabric between dimensions. It was yet another thing she could only do in this form. 

Tendrils tore the space open as if it were paper, and a swirling shadow soon overtook the peak. Red eyes gazed upon her siblings, shackled by what looked to be chains. There were several humans atop the peak as well, but she just knew which one was responsible. A blue haired main, spouting nonsense about using her siblings powers to erase the universe. Where on earth was Arceus during this?

Her rage soon took her over as she readied herself to strike, dragging the man down into her hell as he was speaking, freeing her siblings from his control.

It’s unknown to all but a select few what happened in the Distortion World. Two trainers and the region’s champion emerged from the other dimension, though Cyrus did not follow. It’s assumed he merely stayed behind in the world of nothing, realizing that it was what he sought.

Giratina knows the entire truth. She had been the one to tear him to pieces, blinded with hatred and anger. Hatred and anger. Hatred and anger.

Sinnoh would soon fall back into its normally peaceful state, but nobody would ever forget that fateful day atop Spear Pillar.

[gascon-en-exil]

I Liked Fates Before It Was Cool!: Conquest Part 2

Prologue

Opening Chapters

Conquest Part 1

Chapters 15-20, in which there is finally a goal, and it is stupid.

Chapter 15

a.k.a. the teaser for Revelation.

Don’t get me wrong, I like that Valla has some visible presence outside of its dedicated route, and the otherworldly visuals and shadowy enemies do a lot to sell the mystery of the place and make the player want to learn more about it. Also, this chapter isn’t just randomly dropped into the middle of Conquest’s plot, but rather a culmination of events that begins in Chapter 9 when Azura returns to Nohr. She then meets Garon, tries to exorcise Garon but only succeeds in giving him a really awkward public orgasm, and then turns to Plan B which is apparently to go dimension-hopping for a one-use plot device.

But yeah, that part is absurdly contrived and deserves all the scorn it gets in the fandom, relying as it does on two separate magical plot trinkets - the aforementioned crystal and the Hoshidan throne - and building unearned tension between Corrin and the Nohrian royals via a strange set of contrivances. Azura couldn’t have waited to use the crystal until they were all together...why, exactly? Because it can only be used once, and only at the Bottomless Canyon, and only if someone with special magic or dragon blood touches it, and then you can’t talk about it without vanishing...gah. It’s an epic pileup of lazy writing. FE10′s Blood Pacts have nothing on this moment.

At least the chapter is fun, being a big change of pace that reduces your party to three replicated units and gives you a choice of two objectives. And Gunter’s not dead, and (we assume) not evil on this route even though his situation is basically the same as it is in Revelation. That’s nice of him.

Chapter 16

What an original way of creating a timed chapter - and as a bonus I get the image of Xander and various other guys pinching the cheeks of random Nohrian soldiers! That’s just adorably weird.

What’s not so adorable but still weird is how we’re meant to believe that Shura can pass for a Nohrian until he tells everyone otherwise, because isn’t there supposed to be a noticeable racial difference between the two main regions of Fates’s setting? Maybe not apparent to the player (unless you’re intimately familiar with anime art styles, or so I’ve heard), but it’s logically supposed to be there, so...what’s up with that? Logical inconsistencies aside Shura is an interesting aspect of this chapter and an interesting character in general for how he straddles that regional divide and provides exposition both here and in Birthright that Hoshido’s not all it’s cracked up to be. In this route he reveals that Yukimura contracted him to kidnap Azura in retaliation for Garon kidnapping Corrin, adding a devious dimension to a character who is in other respects extremely underdeveloped. This is also the only route where Shura can potentially get his revenge against Mokushu, so his presence here feels timely...unless you opt to kill him and take his Boots, that is.

More on that next chapter though, because the sting of the previous’s one absurdity lingers in spite of Shura and Xander and some genuinely pleasant sibling banter (tempered by the allusions to the concubine wars and Azura’s rough treatment in Nohr that are mostly reserved for supports). No explanation is ever provided for why Garon decides to commence the invasion of Hoshido now, after devoting his forces’ time and energy to quashing a series of only tangentially-related rebellions. It feels too convenient coming as it does right after Azura explains her plan to Corrin, a means of saving Corrin from having to push for the invasion themselves. I really wish they’d done something to that effect. Corrin would shock Azura even further with their newfound ability to lie while also making a move covertly motivated by a desire to end the war as quickly as possible and so with as few lives lost on both sides. One less contrivance certainly wouldn’t have hurt, either.

Chapter 17

Everyone wants revenge against Kotaro, even NPCs. After slogging through a ninja-infested cave with spikes and a bunch of Dragon Veins that can throw you off if used at the wrong time I sympathize wholeheartedly.

What I have more trouble understanding is the moral position of the lead-up to this chapter. Corrin and co. are fine with accepting help from Kotaro until it’s revealed that he’s captured Kagero in an attempt to force the Hoshidans to surrender. The dialogue doesn’t make it sound as though they plan on killing her, but because Kotaro claims that Garon would approve of his strategy it’s suddenly horrible and deserving of immediate retribution. Corrin’s objection here runs contrary to their desire to end the war quickly by whatever means necessary including subterfuge, so aside from the knowledge gleaned across all routes that Kotaro is a self-centered opportunist who’s personally wronged both Shura and the Christmas ninjas it feels like a stretch that this is what leads to the Nohrians breaking off their strategically useful alliance with Mokushu. It’s a flimsy excuse for a frustrating chapter that doesn’t really come with a payoff later from Saizo, so I can’t say it’s one of my favorites from any angle.

Oh, and Azura apparently soloed a bunch of Hoshidans offscreen. That got a laugh out of me.

Chapter 18

Ship tease and moral dissonance for all! Well, sort of. The Ryoma/Xander stuff is funny (why does Ryoma retort that he’s more attractive? Hmm...) and Camilla gets in a quip in preparation for her final showdown with Hinoka, but all in all it’s a strange, tense moment. The fight against the renegade(?) Nohrians led by Zola provides the moral dissonance, and even though Leo provides a practical explanation for doing his usual thing and killing dark mages in cutscenes it is a bit strange to imagine that Garon wouldn’t notice all these allies and underlings of his mysteriously dying.

I find it interesting that the meeting between royals is something that occurs in Conquest but not in Birthright. As with Chapter 15 this is another example of this route doing substantially more to sell the basic premise of Revelation than its counterpart did, which makes more sense if the two of them were indeed written at about the same time after Birthright. It also provides some necessary development for Corrin’s relationship with the Hoshidan royals, something that can’t be taken for granted as it is with the Nohrians in Birthright as they didn’t grow up together. That’s all the more important to get out of the way now since they all confront Corrin one right after the other in the endgame without much time in between to really explore them as much as they ought to be. Takumi’s arc in Conquest is pretty good, sure, but the sisters are fairly static and Ryoma’s character is plagued with presentation issues on this route. I actually wish this scene could have gone on a bit longer and added a bit more to each of them, but this is what we’ve got.

Don’t really have anything to add about the chapter. It’s a recycled Birthright map that’s only interesting because you have to beat three bosses in a turn limit. Zola’s role here is minimal, as is Izana’s which is entirely a good thing.

Chapter 19

What I like about this chapter: It’s got a pretty autumnal palette not seen anywhere else in Fates that I can think of (exacerbated by the fact that this map is unique to Conquest, meaning you can never use it for skirmishes). The setup is also much stronger than the equivalent wolfskin chapter in Birthright. No Iago here - Kaden outright entraps Corrin’s army and plans to kill them all on the possibility that they might be poachers. Hoshido really benefits from having some viciousness like this of its own.

What I don’t like about the chapter: I don’t know if it’s a mistranslation or I’m just misunderstanding the game’s explanation for this chapter’s gimmick, but it clearly doesn’t work the way I first thought it did. The text blurb states that kitsune illusions (units with the green symbol on them) can neither attack nor be attacked by your units, and while it’s true that your units can’t target them they can and do attack you on the enemy phase. I don’t mind the idea of units with a single turn of player phase immunity, but it’s frustrating to feel misled into thinking it was something else entirely.

Anyway, Corrin kills all the kitsune and is sad about it, and then Azura waxes philosophic on how all routes carry sacrifice and moral greyness and it’s pretty obvious that she’s leaning on the fourth wall here. On the plus side when one considers all the named character deaths in Birthright and even the handful in Revelation it feels less like the game is specifically berating the player for choosing Conquest this time.

Chapter 20

So, uh, quick question: how are the few little huts in the desert seen here and in Birthright and the massive complex of intricately-crafted terraces and stairways that appear in the other two routes both representative of the Wind Tribe? Is Fuga loaded while his people live in squalor? 

He’s certainly a sadist, because this chapter earns its infamous reputation with its frustrating wind manipulation. I find that, not unlike FE4, this is one of several Fates chapters made easier if you’re fielding a bunch of units with holy dragon blood to use the Dragon Veins scattered throughout the map. Behold the power of kinky interspecies sex.

Similar to Azura’s musings in the previous chapter, Fuga provides Corrin with his knowledge of the Yato along with the confidence that they chose a morally righteous path after all.  As with Corrin’s pacifism something like this is near the top of the list of things not to do in a villain campaign, but the writing has long since stopped trying for that angle. It’s been repeatedly reinforced that Garon and his loyal minions are the real enemies of this campaign, and the Hoshidans are the innocent(?) victims who have to be sacrificed in order to expose Garon for what he is and end the war. Fuga sends Corrin off with his blessing to kill however many Hoshidans it takes to earn peace, including potentially all of his late BFF’s children.

...Yeah. Fuga really is kind of an ass when you think about him. 

Next time: Conquest Chapter 21 - Endgame

[faces-in-unexpected-places]

Do You Have the Time? Episode 004: Xuan “Sophia” Nguyen

[March 15th, 2018, 7:05]

Leopold’s phone alarm gently filled his room with lovely harps and orchestral strings. It played for five minutes before he managed to stir from his dreams and blindly sweep his nightstand with his hand. Such music was a wonderful vacation from the white noise-esque ambience of suburbia. Though, it was soothing, it made for an awful choice for an alarm. This he knew, and yet he never seemed changed it.

He was within reach of the phone, since he had woken up with his body sprawled out across the entire bed. After grasping it, he rose from his pillow and sat upright, silencing the alarm in his quiet, shadowy bedroom. Today was the day that the lab was to finally make a decision on their new hypothesis. He took a deep breath and edged to the end of the bed, recollecting the previous night. Pizza with the team, the white-board ideas with Jeremy, and the breakdown in his office with Leslie. Quite the eventful night.

Now, he needed to keep himself on track. The mission was to get far enough to present to the research centre’s board for a better grant. And maybe they could have a real shot at their goal of time travel. He slowly sauntered to the old vanity desk with a mirror that sat opposite to his bed. This idea of time travel, these possibilities for great discovery, it was no longer only for Leopold. This was for his team. For Leslie to actualise her brilliant abilities in her research. For Jeremy to enter the world of discovery and make his first contributions to science. Even for Madison to find her path in life.

Leopold tenderly picked up an old framed picture that sat at the corner of the desk. A wonderful moment of him and his love sharing a day off in autumn on a light hike.  They had just been married a few years before. Their skin so soft; her straight, black hair was so shiny. He lovingly rested his thumb on her pale cheek behind the glass and cracked a faint and somber smile.

This was for Marie. Oh, for Sweet Marie. Who always encouraged him to follow his dreams and live without a doubt, no matter how impractical it may seem. She certainly thought some of his aspirations were unorthodox, surely she must have; but she never tried to convince him otherwise. Or if she did, it was rather short-lived. Leopold kindly set the frame back down. He turned toward his dresser to search for his slacks, tie and shirt. It was time to turn on the lights and wake up.

—

Madison matched Jeremy’s footsteps as they treaded down the hall of the familiar Centre for the Advancement of Technology and Science. She flicked her yo-yo down to her feet and glanced at him as they neared their lab.

“I just think it’s so cool, you know?”

“Mmm,” he dismissed.

“I mean, there are so many tricks you can do. My favourites are all of the ones that I’ve made up. Granted, they’re all by accident, but isn’t that how all great discoveries are made?”

Her yo-yo whipped back up towards her and Jeremy. They each reflexively dodged it. Madison busted a gut at the close call and looked to her brother to share the experience.

“First of all, if you’re not careful, you’re going to knock out your other eye with that thing,” he said.

“Double eye-patches. The only thing cooler than aviators.”

“Secondly, do you still need the one you’re wearing right now?”

“Eh, maybe not, but my eye still looks irritated and it’s still a little hard to see. Plus, I mean, why pass up the opportunity to ride out the eye-patch phase for as long as you can?”

“Point taken.”

“Haha!” She laughed triumphantly.

“Lastly, yes, that is how discoveries are made, but like any experiment, it must be replicated and yield the same results each time for it to be valid. So, almost knocking yourself out and dodging it the one time it happens doesn’t count as a ‘trick’ unless you can replicate it, deliberately.”

“Good advice,” she said.

“Thanks.”

“But also,”

“No.”

“Why do you have to make everything sound so boring?”

“Why do you have to be such a nuisance?”

“Jeez, dude, way to get real at nine in the morning. Why don’t you just let me deprecate myself instead?”

“Because you’re deprecating me, instead,” he shot back, “And also, you hardly ever deprecate yourself. Did you not just finish talking about how cool you are with an eye-patch and how great you are at yo-yoing?

“But aren’t I, though?”

“Yeah, you’re amazing.”

“Not sure if you’re for real, but thank you if you are!” She said, happily.

“Sure.”

They turned into the lab to see Leslie standing in front of the whiteboard with Leopold’s scribbled handwriting. She was thoughtfully examining it with IO by her side. She turned to Jeremy’s little friend with a smile and pointed towards the board.

“Which one do you think we should do first?” She asked.

IO beeped and booped with colourful lights blinking from the bulbs on top of its head. Leslie’s face was blank with confusion.

“I’ve got to ask Jeremy how he understands you. You’re a darling little thing, but I have no idea what you’re saying…”

“It said that cosmic strings sounds possible,” Jeremy said with a hint of enthusiasm. Madison glanced at him with a perplexed eye, then an intrigued smile. IO beeped and flashed in excitement to see Jeremy.

“Oh, there you guys are!” Leslie cheered. She waved them over to her and gestured to the small working station that she built. The whiteboard was brought to the centre of the lab, and just next to it, she had set up a bulky rectangular table with wheels on its legs, and seats for the four of them with notebooks, scientific papers about time travel, and other potential resources placed on it.

“Damn girl, you really go all out with this ‘being prepared’ stuff, huh?” Madison said. Leslie’s face went blank again, glancing around at her work.

“Doesn’t everyone?”

Madison laughed.

“No way, dude,” she said, “I only brushed half of my hair today.”

“Good God,” Jeremy repelled and squinted at the top of her head.

“I’m wearing two different socks,” she continued.

“Madison, hun…” Leslie said.

“I don’t actually even know what store this coat is from. I just found it in a puddle one day.”

“Oh yeah, I remember that.” Jeremy snorted.

“Sweetie, that’s not good for you. Did you at least wash it?”

“Um, does it look washed?” She gestured towards her mildly soiled jacket, then confidently put her hands on her hips and spread her legs to create a power-stance for displaying her clothes. Jeremy closely peered at the fabric.

“I can’t tell, actually,” he said.

“Okay, well, I did wash it back then… it’s just been a while since then,” she emphasised.

Leslie folded her hands and rested them on her chest our of concern.

“So, what do we have here?” Jeremy gestured to the table and board.

“Ah! I am glad you asked, Jeremy.” Leslie gleamed and circled the work area, “You are familiar with the whiteboard already,” she said, putting Madison’s messy life out of her mind.

“Because I was there when Leopold wrote it, yes,” he retorted.

“But here, we have our lab meeting table. A place for us to theorise, elaborate our ideas on the board, build things, work on the dimensions of stuff in GraviTime, come up with fun inside jokes, the uses are endless!”

“Yeah, cool table, Les,” Madison brushed off.

“Oh, and I’ve already assigned everyone’s seats!”

“You did?” Jeremy raised an eyebrow.

“Yes! Madison and Leopold will sit over here on this side, facing the entrance to the lab. And, Jeremy, you and I will be on the other side with our backs to the entrance.”

Madison jabbed Jeremy with her elbow. He winced and nudged her back out of spite. Leopold strolled through the entrance of the lab with his satchel hanging off his shoulder. He peaked around Jeremy and Madison and grinned at Leslie and her meeting area.

“Ahhh, so this must be the fabled lab meeting table you spoke so much of, yes?” he winked.

“It is! And your seat is right here, closest to the whiteboard.”

“Are our work areas customisable?” He asked.

“Uh, well, yeah, sure, if you want!”

“Good!” He sauntered over to his seat and pulled out a picture frame from his satchel. “I pulled this picture of Marie from home to keep in my office, but since we’ll be spending most of our time out here at this table, I figured it would make more sense to go here.”

“Great, Leo! Making it your own! Although, if we build things on this table, it could get a bit dangerous, so we maybe might want to move it when we’re doing that.”

“Oh, we’ll figure it out,” he waved away the comment.

“Well, I think that this can definitely keep us on an organised steady track,” Jeremy said as he approached his seat. Madison followed behind him and dropped her backpack down on her seat.

“And speaking of ideas for research, I brought one too,” he mentioned.

“Oh, that’s great, Jeremy! What is it?”

He set his bag down, reached into it, and pulled out a video camera.

“Oh! You want to make a documentary about time travel!” Madison squealed.

“Incorrect,” he asserted.

“Welp.”

“What I was thinking was that we could set this up somewhere and make sort of ‘lab video logs’ about our progress in our research. If we make a break-through, record our thoughts, what we did, etcetera. Or if we hit a brick wall, explain that too. Just try to capture a general progression of what our research was like. From start to finish,” he explained, “…If we finish, anyway…”

“I like it, boy!” Leopold clapped and pointed at him and Leslie, “You two have some great ideas! I can’t wait to get to work!”

“So, it’s like a mini-documentary,” Madison interjected. Jeremy sighed out of exasperation.

“Sure, Madison. It’ll be like the Blair Witch Project of time travel.”

“Oh God,” she retorted, “That sounds terrible. Will we run into the Blair Witch when we’re time travelling?”

“No. It’s the only documentary that I could think of off the top of my head.”

“You know, they actually remade it a couple years ago,” Leo chimed in.

“Ohh! We should rent it! And have like a horror movie time travel night extravaganza!” Madison replied.

“Okay, okay, wow!” Leslie halted them, “That sounds like a great idea. But I think we should probably start working on our jobs, first.”

“I agree,” Jeremy said.

“Yes, of course, Leslie. Another good idea!” Leo said.

“Anyway, I do like the lab log idea, Jeremy. Why don’t you find a place to set it up and then we can get to work!” Leslie suggested.

Jeremy headed to the stockroom and set the camcorder up on a miniature tripod on the table in the middle of the room. The same place that he sat when he and Leopold had brainstormed the hypotheses to be discussed that day. At the meeting table, Madison had started practicing chemistry problems with her headphones on while Leslie and Leopold patiently waited. Jeremy was the last to take a seat.

“Okay, here we are!” Leslie said, excitedly looking around the table, “I took a look at the ideas that you guys came up with. So I think that we should spend some time weighing the pros and cons of each one until we can agree on a hypothesis to pursue. I think that was the same idea you two had, right?”

“Indeed!” Leopold said.

“Yes,” Jeremy replied, “we marked each idea we had based on how possible we think it is.”

“So the ones with an X are probably not going to be our first attempts?” She clarified.

“Not unless you can make a case for it. Then we could always decide to include it again.”

“Okay, so no travelling at the speed of light…” she started.

“Because we can’t do that on earth,” Jeremy said. Leslie humorously exhaled. “Yes, getting us into space might be a little difficult to manage… and dangerous too. I can’t let my friends do that!” She joked. Jeremy and Leopold chuckled.

“So, what about the next one?” She continued, “Gravitational waves? Are we still on the fence about it, because there’s a slash next to it?”

“Ah, yes, that was Jeremy’s idea!” Leopold joined in, “We would need black holes to merge together, so… more space travel and funding, but we did like the idea that we can create variation in the ripples in time. Maybe if we have more control manipulating them, we’ll more accurately pinpoint places in time to travel to.”

Leslie nodded and glanced at Jeremy.

“So, it was your idea?” She said with a smile, adjusting her glasses.

“Well, Leopold thought of the better control system and was going to scratch the idea, but it sounded valuable so I wanted to keep it. I realise that actualising this type of research is a long and seemingly unreachable endeavour. But I thought that if Leopold could think of those ideas while we were still in the brainstorming process, we should at least hold onto them until we’re sure it’s a dead-end.”

“Hmm, okay,” she said, “Although, if we’re going to keep this idea even though it could potentially involve space travel, wouldn’t we have to keep the first idea too based on principle? We can’t rule out travelling at the speed of light because we would need space travel, but then approve manipulating black holes in space,” Leslie analysed.

She was right. Their list of hypotheses had a clear bias for one idea over another. It was Jeremy’s bias. He felt his face heat up. He sheepishly adjusted his sweater and swept his hair across his forehead while he considered her argument. This was a strangely uncomfortable position to be in. Usually Leslie was agreeable and sweet. He did not expect her to scrutinise and criticise his thoughts this much. Although, she had a point. He supposed it was a necessary skill for everyone to have on a research team; whether you’re outgoing and personable, scatterbrained and silly, or determined and thoughtful. He had remained still as usual for a few minutes and realised that he was expected to defend himself. However, what arguments could be made.

“Oh, well, I… uh, yes, okay. So, I see your concern,” he stammered, “Um…” IO quietly approached Jeremy in his distress and nudged him with its square head. He looked down and smiled at his friend who was displaying soothing colour-changing lights. Jeremy rested his hand on top of IO’s head and looked back at Leslie. Noticing the acute stress and embarrassment that she had inadvertently caused, Leslie began walking back her statements.

“Well, we can always come back to it again!” She said, “I mean, if you guys really think we can somehow apply the ideas you came up with, we can definitely try!”

“No, no, you have a point,” Jeremy said, “Just because we have more ideas, doesn’t mean they’re more practical.”

“Ah, may I say,” Leopold added, as he raised his hand in the air to bring attention to himself, “One issue with the speed of light theory is that we would cause time to move differently around us without being able to reverse it. Because time moves slower the faster you go. So we could travel extremely fast and cause time to slow down around us, but we would not be able to return to any other previous points in time. The gravitational waves theory is different because we may be able to pick and choose which points in time we travel to, forwards or backwards. We would travel through time, as opposed to time travelling around us,” he explained, “I think that may have been the reason that Jeremy preferred gravitational waves, yes?” he gestured to Jeremy. He and Leslie were both looking at Jeremy for his response. His shoulders were rigid. The room was soundless while he attempted to collect his thoughts.

IO peaked over the table and beeped and buzzed in Jeremy’s place. Leslie and Leopold began laughing. IO nudged Jeremy again and he began to chuckle too. The tension in his shoulders began to subside while he leaned back in his chair and let his breath go. He smiled at his colleagues with him at the table.

“It’s alright, son,” Leopold said with a calming but firm and reassuring tone, “We’re all trying to figure out what the best hypothesis is. I don’t even know yet,” he looked at Leslie, “Do you?”

“No, goodness!” She laughed, “Jeremy, I really don’t know which one we should do either. I’ve looked over the list two-hundred times already and it’s not even noon.”

“You have?” He tilted his head in surprise.

“Yes, but that’s not the point.”

Jeremy raised an eyebrow in Leopold’s direction who shrugged in astonishment and confusion.

“The point is that we’re all here together to figure it out. Right?”

“Yes, of course,” he articulated with a sturdier and less sheepish tone.

“I understand why we might eliminate speed of light theory for now. Although, Leo’s explanation about why you wanted to keep gravitational waves makes sense. It sounded like bias at first, but if it’s not, then we should keep it and consider it more seriously.”

Jeremy nodded.

“Well regardless, it doesn’t change the fact that we may have to use space travel which would need a lot of funding and training that none of us have. If we have another promising hypothesis that we can pursue without those rings to dive through, I think we should start with that.”

“What… what rings? Diving through?” Leslie furrowed her brow. She looked at Leopold who, for the second time within the same minute, shrugged in astonishment and confusion. Madison removed one of the headphones from her ear.

“He means you should start with hypothesis without as many hoops to jump through.”

Leslie and Leopold made a silent “Ohhh…” motion with their heads and mouths.

“Yes, that’s essentially what I said,” Jeremy defended himself.

“No. It wasn’t. You said it wrong in your own nerdy way with your natural nerd-like twist in your natural nerd-habitat—” 

“Hey!” Leslie interjected.

“—because you’re an enormous, chess-loving, physics-studying, robot-building NERD.”

“That seems excessive,” he responded.

“Only a nerd would use those exact words in that order.”

“How did you even hear me? I thought you were listening to music,” Jeremy squinted.

“The song ended at the right time and I was in the right place,” Madison turned the page of her textbook and glanced at the answer key, “Dammit! Wrong, again?!”

“Serves you right. Back to work,” he sneered and pointed her book.

“Ya NERD,” Madison squawked as she put her headphones on.

“Keep trying, Madison! I’m sure you can do it! Let’s not hurt each others’ feelings, though…”

Madison removed her headphone again, this time with music blaring out of it.

“WHAT.”

“She said your hair was nice today,” Jeremy said.

“THANKS I ONLY BRUSHED—”

“Yes, we know.”

“ ‘KAY,” Madison let go of her headphone and it slapped back against her ear. Leopold was leaned back, grinning and watching the lab table dissipate into entropy. Jeremy met eyes with him and frowned in confusion.

“What is it?” He asked.

“I just like my lab members!”

“Okay, okay!” Leslie waved her hands to shed the distractions off, “Well, that sounds like a reasonable process to me, Jeremy. We’ll do that!” Leslie agreed.

“But in the meantime,” he raised a finger to make one last argument, “maybe we can store this hypothesis away just in case nothing else works out. What’s the purpose of actually getting somewhere in an idea without at least trying to actualise it. Maybe one day we’ll have the resources to use experiment with it.”

“There you go!” Leopold beamed from ear to ear, “Potential for the future!”

“And the remaining two are developing candidates because of a possibility that Leopold thought of,” Jeremy said, giving his professor a swift point of the finger, “He wants to try to create micro-scale variations of either cosmic strings or the Tipler Cylinder similar to people who design micro-scale versions of chemical reactions to perform in their labs. If we can replicate these phenomena in our lab, maybe we can manipulate them to help us time travel.”

“Okay, so we’ve managed to eliminate one idea,” Leslie supervised, “And we’ve got three to choose from.”

Leopold gave her a thumbs-up. Quickly, as if someone had flipped a switch in his mind, his face shifted from curious and comfortable to stern and distressed. His eyes were trained on the entrance to the lab. Leslie and Jeremy, after noticing this, turned around in their seats to find a peculiar and pernicious person standing before them. She wore a close-fitting, black skirt with a white, tucked in blouse, and a black blazer over top of it. Her hair matched her blazer and ended between her chin and her shoulders in a bob shape; her eyes were narrow and glared at the lab meeting with scorn.

“Oh, boy…” Leopold mumbled under his breath.

“So…” the young woman said as she approached their table, “this is the wonderful team I’ve heard so much about.”

“It is. Welcome our laboratory.” Leopold extended his arms out, gesturing to the room with a stoic expression. An unfitting and uncommon demeanour for him. The woman glanced around with her arms crossed, nodding at the environment. She smirked.

“Cute.”

Leopold leaned forward in his chair and folded his hands on the table. He gazed at the woman with weathered and desensitised eyes.

“What can I help you with, Xuan?” He asked.

“Please, I prefer Sophia, now.”

“As you wish.”

“And nothing. I just wanted to see for myself this so-called ‘progress’ that was being made on… what was it? This is the science-fiction wing of the building, right?”

Madison took her headphones off and leaned across the table at Jeremy and Leslie.

“Who is this mean lady?” She asked.

“Sophia,” Jeremy said.

“What’s her deal?”

“She seems mean, you’ve got her pegged well,” he said with a shrug.

“Okay, cool.”

“You guys, shhh,” Leslie said.

“And these are your… students, I suppose?” Sophia said as she circled her finger around the other three.

“Miss Sophia, I am sorry if we have given you the wrong impression, but I assure you, we are hard at work in our field of research! No need to be suspicious of our work-ethic!” Leslie chimed in to lighten the mood.

“Oh, I’m not here to manage your time. I am very familiar with Looney’s work-ethic.”

“Oh, hey, Leo, come on,” Madison nudged him, “You’re not looney, you can’t let her bad-mouth you like that,” she turned to Sophia, glared, and stood up, “Listen lady, you can’t just walk in here and START TALKING A BUNCH OF BULLSH—”

“OKAY, okay,” Leopold chuckled and brought his heavy, long-fingered hand to the top of her head, and guided her back into her seat, “Looney is my last name, Madison. No need to get worked up.”

He held his intense stare on Sophia while maintaining a apprehensive posture.

“A bit of an unfortunately easy last name to take advantage of like Sophia and many others in this building choose to do. But my own, nonetheless.” He cleared his throat, “Sophia, I do not want to fight. Is there a professional reason that you have paid us a visit? Because if not, my colleagues and I would like to get back to work.”

“The newly-elected board president wants me and the other board members to drop in on each of the research labs that have potential to be considered for a grant and updated equipment should they successfully present at the next conference. I was shocked that your name was part of the list, so I decided to come and see for myself.”

Jeremy looked at Leopold with wonder.

“Our lab is on the list? Also, there is a list?” He asked. Sophia snorted with contempt.

“Glad to see your research team is informed. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of information to share come presentation time,” she mocked.

“Excuse me, Miss Sophia, but that is enough!” Leslie interjected, “I will not sit here and listen to you insult my friends while we were in the middle of brainstorming some promising hypotheses. As Dr. Looney said, if there is nothing else for us that you have, we would appreciate it if you saw yourself out so we can continue preparing for the conference, since we’re on the list,” she enunciated, “And If I may offer you some criticism, since you appear to be very accustomed to it, I don’t think that barging into our lab because of some personal vendetta you seem to have with our head investigator is very professional. Perhaps you’ll rethink your actions and choose a different approach the next time you observe potential labs.”

“Damn, Leslie… you’ve got some sass…” Madison leaned in to whisper from across the table.

“Well, it’s about time I move on to the next one anyway. I raise your criticism with a word of advice,” Sophia began, “tell this one to tone it down little. The loudmouthed one,” she pointed at Madison, “The more she spouts off about your work while she wanders through this research facility, the more people will think of this lab as a joke. Just a helpful thought. But what do I know? What really is the difference in the end? Grant… no grant… it’s not a big deal. Either way, good luck and have fun!”

She turned and slithered out of the lab while Madison barked at her. Jeremy shushed her. The room remained still while the adrenaline levels declined and shock swept through them. The three of them looked at Leopold who appeared exasperated.

“So, I take it she’s part of the reason you didn’t want a board meeting for so long?” Jeremy asked.

“Indeed,” he sighed.

“Who was that lady, Leo?” Leslie said.

“She’s… well, Xuan and I used to know each other quite well. But we had some unfortunate circumstances and she’s harboured a grudge since.”

“Yeah, I picked up on that,” Madison added.

“So does that mean we’ll have to face her when we present?” Jeremy asked.

“If we present,” Leopold corrected, “And, yes, probably.”

“If?” Jeremy repeated, “That’s still the plan, right? We can’t not present because of her.”

“It’s all a matter of whether or not we have enough data and progress to present.”

“I think we should just try to put Sophia out of our minds for now. We were doing so well! The plan hasn’t changed. We just have a bigger challenge, now. A bigger, darker, nastier challenge,” Leslie chuckled nervously.

Leopold was staring down at his papers. Madison fidgeted in her seat, looking at her phone. Leslie’s eyes bounced from person to person in the uncomfortable silence. In an attempt to ward off the situational feelings of discomfort, Jeremy began jotting something down in his notebook. Madison frowned and slipped out of her seat.

“This might seem like I’m trying to escape an awkward situation but… I actually have to go to class soon…” she trailed off.

“Yes, yes, go. Go, go. Have a good time, hope to see you later,” Leopold dismissed. Madison scurried away from the table and out the laboratory door, slipping her arms through the straps. Leopold began to withdraw from the table, too.

“W-well, there’s still us three!” Leslie pleaded, “We could still talk about our ideas, maybe agree on something, get started on it, you know?”

“I think I’m going to break for lunch,” Leopold said as he quietly snatched his satchel and retreated back to his office. Leslie half stood up with her arm stretched out to him.

“But I—”

The door shut behind him. She sighed and slumped back down in her chair. Just the two of them, now. Leslie slowly raised her head back up to Jeremy with a disheartened look on her face.

“What about you, Jeremy. Maybe you and I could still bounce ideas off each other, right?” She looked to him with big, round eyes and a long face.

“I think I might need a bit of space from this whole thing, too.”

“Right… Of course you do.”

 He quietly slid out of the seat that Leslie had chosen for him, put on his coat and backpack, then quickly crept out of the lab. Leslie sat in her own seat with her hands resting on her forehead. She flipped through the papers that she had gathered for the group to read through together.

Then it was only her.

—

Madison stood at her table in her university’s laboratory. Her teaching assistant had given the class their experiment and worksheets for the day. Determining the limiting reactants in a chemical reaction. She looked around at the student next to her who would be her lab partner with a faint smile on her face. She wished she could be more excited for the class. Having Sophia single-handedly shoot the morale out of the sky and projectile it into a flaming nosedive wasn’t a great help for her day. She hated seeing everyone lose their momentum like they did. Leopold especially needed support and Sophia basically did the opposite. And Leslie put so much thought and effort into getting everyone engaged and ready to work. Maybe Madison didn’t understand it, but it meant something to Leslie. Maybe she should have been more appreciative of Leslie’s idea. And Jeremy actually manages to crack a smile and not be 100% grumpy and depressing when he’s working in the lab. At least he and Madison can have some kind of pleasant interaction when he’s there. He’s only icy and unfeeling towards her 90% of the time because of the lab.

“Hey, are you ready to start?” Her lab partner asked. Madison jolted out of her thoughts and looked at the experimental procedure in her packet. Not to mention that she hasn’t exactly been doing great on her homework problems, either. Yet another reason she wasn’t jumping up and down at their table. She found the first step of the experiment.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good to go,” she said, “Uh, so, it looks like we need to get ten millilitres of HCl, first. Do you want to do that, or should I?” She asked. Her lab partner looked at her with a blank expression and shrugged.

“Um, okay. Would you like for me to do the first one?”

“Yeah, yeah, that would be good. That way I’ll know what to do when I have to do it,” he said.

“…You… don’t know what to do?” Madison tilted her head, “It’s right here,” she held up the assignment packet.

“Yeah, I… didn’t really look over this stuff beforehand. Kinda figured we would just wing it.”

“Oh, okay. I guess. Well, it’s just getting some solution, you don’t really have to know what we’re doing to get that.”

“Right, but like, I don’t know how I would do it. Could you just like, show me?” He whined.

“You just need a graduated cylinder.”

“Okay, where’s that? Do we have to ask the teacher for it?” He said.

Madison squinted. She opened the drawers to their lab table and the all of glassware inside clinked together from her force. She retrieved a graduated cylinder from it and set it on the table in front of them.

“It looks like this. Have you used one of these before?”

Still with a blank expression on his face, he shook his head. Madison blinked in surprise. She glanced around to see other groups progressing beyond them. And still, other groups somehow behind them.

“I’m sure you’ve had chemistry classes back in high school, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I think, but I didn’t do too much in them. I was put with the smart kids and they just kinda took control of it all, you know?”

Madison took a deep breath. Everything would be fine. All she had to do is try to take the lead on the experiment, despite getting most of her homework questions wrong, teach this dude everything there is to know about chemistry, and finish the experiment with respectable results within the given window of time. That would be a piece of cake, no problem.

“There’s not enough time for you to read through everything now,” she said.

“Darn,” he replied, showing a blatant lack of interest.

“I’m going to figure out what we need to do, show you how to do it, and I’ll give you tasks to do while I make sure we’re on the right track. Think you can do that?”

“Yeah, you’re the boss,” he said, scrolling through the internet on his phone.

“Also, if you play with your phone while you’re doing the lab, you might get acid on it, and the next time you answer a call, I’m pretty sure it’ll slowly burn your face off.”

With an uncomfortable frown and a clammy hand, he shut his phone down and put it in his pocket.

It wasn’t the most accurate description, but at least she was promoting good safety technique. She grabbed the graduated cylinder and motioned for him to follow her over to a fume hood, which was essentially just a counter built into the wall with a window that slides up and down so gases from chemical reactions wouldn’t fill up the laboratory. In the fume hood sat two a round jugs; one labelled HCl and another named liquid waste. Madison sat the graduated cylinder down in the fume hood, put on latex-free gloves after taking them from a nearby box and held the jug by the handle.

“You’re going to want to hold it here with one hand, stabilise the cylinder with your other and and pour slowly.”

“Whoa, is that really how you do it? That thing is huge and basically full. Isn’t it heavy?” He asked.

“Yeah, that’s why you have to be extra careful when you’re pouring,” she said as she kneeled down to see the level of the liquid solution, “You have to be good with your hands because the stuff we do can go wrong pretty quickly if you pour too much or spill it or contaminate your samples,” she pulled pointed at her eyepatch, “I would know.”

He stood quietly nodding with his arms folded. Madison waved for him to come closer.

“I’m good, I can see.”

“No, for real, you need to be down here. Eye-level. You get better readings when you’re horizontal with the tube.”

He knelt down next to her and stared at the liquid in their container. The HCl remained filled up to the 10 mL mark on the graduated cylinder in the middle, but the liquid appeared to curve upwards at the sides of the tube. Madison pointed to the middle of the solution and looked at her partner.

“This is called the meniscus. It’s the part that we use to measure the volume of liquid. Is it at the 10 mL line?”

“Uh… yes? Wait, no,” he quickly changed his mind, “No, it’s not.”

“It’s not?” She cross-examined him.

“Is that a trick question?” He asked. Madison snorted.

“No dude,” she pointed to her eyepatch, “I’ve got no depth perception, I legit need you to tell me!” She laughed.

“Oh! Oh, then yeah, yeah, totally.”

“Good,” she said and stood back up.

“Okay, so now what? Do we—”

Madison opened the liquid waste container and poured the HCl into it. Her partner’s mouth gaped open in surprise and distress.

“Why would you dump it out?!” He whined, “That took forever!”

“Because now you can try it,” she said as she confidently slammed the graduated cylinder back down onto the table in the fume hood. A crack formed at the base and travelled up the cylinder. A few pieces collapsed onto the counter.

“Please don’t waste the HCl and break the glassware, Madison,” the teaching assistant said as he passed by, “Also, you owe the department three dollars for a new one.”

“Yep,” she blurted out.

She sighed. Her partner chuckled with his hand over his mouth. Another pair of students approached the fume hood.

“Can we use that space now?” One of them asked. From the looks of their flasks, they had already progressed to the second experiment of the day. How could that be possible? She and her partner couldn’t be that bad at chemistry. Madison stood with HCl-covered broken glass cupped in her hands. Her face began heating up and she moved out of the way.

“Uh, right, so step one: ‘break your cylinder’. So now we do step two: start over.”

—

Leslie sat at the lab table by herself with GraviTime open on her laptop. Muffled music emitted from Leopold’s office and split her concentration. An unfortunate circumstance like Sophia attacking him at a fragile time was enough to send him back into his old habits; so much for Leslie’s lab meeting table. She stressfully pinched her forehead while she scanned all of the features of the program. She opened up a new project and it displayed an empty, three-dimensional coordinate plane for her. The program allowed the user to recreate physical events by placing objects of masses of the user’s choosing into a plane and assigning them actions to interact with one another. So if the user assigned two blocks with different speeds towards one another, they would collide, and the program would predict the events that would follow the collision. It essentially estimated any event that would occur under the laws of physics. Clicking on the insert tab brought up a few choices of objects. Box. Sphere. Triangle. Person. Gear. Custom.

Leslie selected the custom option and it brought up a new window with even more tools to use. It allowed shapes to be combined together to form more complex objects. And probably other functions that she would have a hard time uncovering without the help of the rest of the lab. She didn’t feel like diving into something that tedious by herself. There was a play button sitting at the top of GraviTime’s window. She clicked it and a timer in the top right corner began counting the seconds. The milliseconds were racing by and the traditional seconds were rhythmically counting along, too. She clicked and dragged her perspective of the coordinate plane around and watched the axes shift. She supposed that this would allow the user to watch an event play out from different angles. Gradually, her head began to pound more and more; the program was making it hurt with how particular the user has to be with orchestrating an event. Next to Jeremy’s empty chair lied IO who had powered itself down after he had left.

An unpleasantly familiar voice projected to her ear from behind.

“So. Everyone left you, huh?”

Sophia. Again. Leslie could feel her head pulse even harder. She didn’t have the energy to keep up a polite smile anymore. Before turning around to see her again, she stood up from her chair and huffed out of agitation. Leslie met Sophia’s eyes with a blank and serious expression. She adjusted her glasses.

“What is it, Sophia? You’ve already checked our lab today.”

“Oh, yes, I know,” she jeered, “I’ve finished my evaluations of all of my assigned labs, and this one was on my way back. I wanted to come back and say hello again. So hi.”

Leslie pursed her lips together in frustration while she frowned at her.

“Oh, but there was another thing,” Sophia faux-recalled, “It looks like the overall budget of this new year isn’t as much as we’ve had in previous ones. So we’re being forced to cut the funding of a lot of labs. We’re also raising the bar for the criteria of an ‘essential lab’ in our facility to conserve resources. The medicine and robotics wings are still in the clear, but we’re thinking that the theoretical physics wing, or science-fiction wing, will probably be converted to nonessential after the research board votes on it.”

Leslie glared at Sophia with a face of stone.

“I’m surprised that you guys managed to get grant money and stay essential for as long as you did, though. So congratulations on that.”

“I don’t seem to be getting an answer from you, so I’ll ask one more time,” Leslie said, “What do you want, Sophia? Why do you come here to say all of these terrible things?”

“These terrible things are all objective facts,” she persuaded, “It’s not my fault that grants are not as easily handed out now as they were twenty years ago. I’m only following the new policy. And your lab just happens to be much less important than the other ones in this building. I actually came here to warn you about the cuts. To help you. That way you can save your money. Unless you can convince the board to give you your grant back with your presentation at the next conference, of course. Although, I think the robotics wing would be interested in buying that scrap metal off your hands,” she said pointing towards the sleeping IO, “You could add a bit more to your budget before it gets cut. Wouldn’t that be nice.”

“Our research is not directly applicable to the world like robotics or like medicine. That’s because the whole point of our research is to make it applicable. You can doubt our research, you can cut our funding, you can come by and patronise me any day of the week if you want,” she took a step closer to Sophia, “But you cannot come around and threaten our robot, IO, or insult my friends. Madison is loud and should maybe think more before she speaks, which I’ve been meaning to talk to her about that, but she is passionate and she works hard when she’s not goofing around with Leopold or trying to get a rise out of her brother, and she really cares about what we’re doing. Jeremy is thoughtful and can be a little too ambitious with his ideas sometimes, but he thinks like anything is possible, and that is the kind of self-reliance and determination that people need to stay committed to their projects and come up with novel ideas; it’s what we needed as a lab to hit the ground running with our new hypothesis, and we may actually make some discoveries with him around.”

Sophia smirked and crossed her arms while Leslie continued her assertive list.

“And Leopold is a brilliant man who has worked all over his field. He works in odd ways, but that’s why he was inevitably drawn to an odd subject of research. He can perceive different angles of problems that nobody else even knew existed. If there is anyone who can uncover the mechanisms of time travel, I think it would be him. And Jeremy. And me, by the way. I am not Leopold’s student anymore, I am his coworker with a doctorate in astronomy, which everyone seems to conveniently forget. Now please, leave me be so I can stress over picking which hypothesis we’re going to use and work this Gravity-Time-program-thing that Jeremy picked out, because I can’t do any of that if I have to deal with you, and I’ve had about enough of this offensive game you’re playing today!” Leslie inhaled the entire room of air after nearly running out of it from her monologue.

“Oh? So you still haven’t chosen your hypothesis yet?” Sophia laughed.

Leslie’s lips locked together and her face started heating up from exposing their lacklustre progress.

“So you’re actually further behind than I thought. And I was only here a few hours ago. I truly do hope that you ‘unlock the secrets of time’, Leslie,” Sophia heckled, “Maybe you’ll be able to manage it better when you do.”

Leslie’s entire body was tensing up from embarrassment and frustration and exhaustion and hunger and some other fifth thing that she was too worked up to identify.

“You know, you’re not actually as nice and pleasant as you try to make everyone else think,” Sophia remarked. Leslie jolted at those words and looked down at her feet, at a loss for words.

“I’ll go and leave you to your work,” Sophia assured, “But a word of advice, Leslie. Just because Leo has worked all over the place, does not mean he is more valuable. He’s flighty and can’t decide on what he wants, what he thinks , or what he believes. He’s erratic and unpredictable. It’s plain to see from the outside. Anyway, congratulations on your soon-to-be zero dollar budget. Make your choices wisely.”

Sophia turned her back once again and took long strides out of the laboratory, leaving Leslie motionless and disturbed. She turned out into the hallway and made her way out of the theoretical physics wing, her shoes loudly tapping on the linoleum floor. Having visited all of the labs that were required of her as a member of the board, she could send in her evaluations and then attend to the other bullet points on her to-do list. 

It was bad enough having to know that she worked in the same building as that senile child. Before recently, she had elected for minimal interaction with him because they were on different sides of the enormous facility. Choosing to see him may have given her spiteful stomach ulcers, but if being a part of the board meant that she could bring his life and power to a halt, then the decision was already made for her.

As Sophia officially saw herself out of the science-fiction wing through the lobby, she passed a boy slightly younger than her, heading in the opposite direction. He had blonde hair reaching his shoulders and carried two paper bags. It was that Jeremy character from earlier that Leslie was talking about. They locked eyes without speaking. A silent and brief exchange of glares as they brushed shoulders and continued their separate ways. Sophia had other business and larger priorities waiting for her.

Eventually, she made her way into her new office. It was small and wedged in next to many other identical offices inhabiting one hallway in the facility. Despite the size, the structure was organised and minimalistic. Smooth white walls and an onyx floor that matched her desk and chairs. Plant-coloured green tiles stretched across the vertical and horizontal diameters of the room, creating a plus sign that contrasted the onyx floor. There were bright orange pipes just under the ceiling that moved parallel to it from one wall to the other. The colours of her office resembled those on a paint mixing palette. She did not choose the design, but she did not mind, either.

She slid into her chair and composed an email to the president of the board regarding her evaluations. Medicine needed to get priority and remain essential. Ecology had to be cut. Ironic, seeing that the remodelling of the very office that she had just moved into was related to their conserving resources initiative. Chemical engineering could remain essential. Theoretical physics should certainly be cut to nonessential. She proceeded through the rest of the other labs and wings that she visited, edited her email and sent it out. Sophia rested her head in her hands while she planted her elbows on the desk, closed her eyes and reflected. Regardless of her feelings about Leopold, the changes in budget policy wouldn’t have allowed him funding, anyway. She could be content that her feelings aligned with the policy. It made her a better employee. A grin began to spread across her face with satisfaction. A man that she recognised from the robotics wing peaked into her office and looked around. She gestured for him to enter.

“Have you finished all of your business with the board?” He asked.

“For today, yes.”

“So you’re free for now?”

“Yes, yes, it’s all covered.”

“Good,” he said and held up a wrench, “ ‘Cause we need you back in here again.”

“Give me a minute to change my clothes, and I’ll be there in a few. I can’t get my hands dirty in all of this,” she signalled towards her blazer and skirt.

“We’ll be waiting for you.”

—

Jeremy entered the quiet laboratory and spotted Leslie still sitting in her seat with her hands frustratingly clapped on the sides of her head. The paper bags in his hands were still hot with takeout food, and he supported the bottoms so they did not rip from the stress. He cleared his throat so Leslie would turn around. She began to, but not in the way he had expected.

“I am really not in the mood for any more of this ridiculous— oh! Jeremy! You, uh, you came back,” she mumbled.

“Yes, of course I did. We still need to choose a hypothesis and try to get it off the ground. We haven’t done that yet, have we?”

“No, no, not yet,” she sighed, “Uh, sorry for raising my voice at first. I… thought you were someone else.”

“Oh. Who? Is someone bothering you?”

“It’s nobody, don’t worry.”

“Was it Sophia?” He asked.

“Um… yes. Actually. How did you know that?” She said.

“We passed each other in the hallway while I was on my way here, and we glared at each other for a few seconds.”

“She really is a piece of work, you know!”

“What did she want?” He said.

“Oh, I don’t really want to talk about it right now. I’m a little too flustered for that.”

“That’s okay,” he replied and sat back down in his assigned seat next to her. She tilted her head at the paper bags and pointed to them.

“What do you have there?” She changed the subject.

Jeremy rubbed his neck and looked away from her.

“Right. Well, you know, I left because I needed some space, but then I realised that I forgot to bring lunch with me to the lab today. So I would have had to leave at some point, anyway. I went and got Mexican food and thought that maybe, you know, I don’t know.”

Leslie’s body began to relax and she wore a kind smile, having already figured it out. She had almost forgotten about her frustrating Sophia altercations. Jeremy held his arms and legs close to his core while she was leaning toward him, intrigued in his explanation.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said and turned his head away from her, “It meant nothing to me, I acted only a whim while I was out.” Leslie giggled and rested her hand on his shoulder. His eyes shot back to his shoulder to look at it. She gazed at him through her rose-coloured glasses.

“I find it silly that you would rather speak like a fictional antihero than acknowledge how sweet you are,” she snickered, “But I know you don’t like a lot of attention with things, so I’ll let it go for you,” she said gently. She reached into the bag and pulled out a burrito.

“But just one thing?” She asked.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry for acting cold when you left. I was frustrated, but it wasn’t your fault and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. And thank you for thinking of me while you were out. You didn’t have to, but you did, and it’s very lovely. It’s already made me feel better about everything,” she said, “And I’m definitely going to remember this forever because my brain is an inescapable steal-trap of kindness.”

“It’s fine, I didn’t notice you being cold. And you’re welcome,” he said quickly and numbly, “Now, more importantly, I did some thinking about the theories we have left, because we didn’t finish talking about all of them. And we need to make a decision. Today.”

“Gooudf!” Leslie muffled through half of a burrito in her mouth. She immediately realised that she was not speaking very gracefully and covered her mouth with one hand and gave Jeremy a thumbs up with her other.

“Fsowrry!” She apologised and waved her hands to encourage him to carry on. “It’s fine,” he dismissed, “We didn’t get to it during our discussion, but I wanted to jump ahead and make a case for—”

“COSMIC STRINGS!” Leopold yelled as he burst out of his office and the muffled music became loud and clear.

“Yes,” Jeremy forcefully agreed.

“You came to the same idea, my boy!” Leo asked with excitement.

“I did.”

“Mmmyyaaaaay!” Leslie muzzled through her entire mouthful of burrito. Jeremy and Leopold paused for her to finish. She gulped down the rest of it and let all of her breath out in relief. She reached for one of the drinks in the paper bag and slurped on it for a minute. Jeremy and Leopold glanced around the room, patiently. Still silence. Except for the slurping.

“Ahhh,” she said after quenching her thirst, “Sorry, you guys. I haven’t eaten all day. I’m a little, uh, hungry.”

“Noted,” Jeremy said.

Leslie quickly glimpsed at him. She squinted her eyes and pursed her lips in a humorously overdone fashion.

“Was that sarcasm?”

“No.”

“Oh,” she paused, “Okay!”

And it was forgotten.

“Leopold, would you like to explain why you think we should pursue cosmic strings to Leslie? You seem to have a knack or putting into words the things that I cannot.”

“Yes, yes, of course. But we will get you to practice, soon!”

Jeremy shuddered. He reached down and nudged IO to wake up. It stirred in its slumber and faintly displayed its characteristic fuzzy blue lights.

“I did some reading and found that studies have been done with Tipler’s Cylinder on the micro-scale, already,” Leopold said, “There wasn’t much to go off of because the group lost their lab and their grants after publishing their second paper.”

Leslie’s expression returned to its somber and distant nature that Jeremy noticed when she first turned around to him, thinking that he was Sophia. “But! It was informative,” Leo continued, “And it seems like the cylinder being infinitely long really is a large requirement for its success. And not to mention that the cylinder needs to be of an extremely dense matter, and I’m not sure we have the tools to pack such a large amount of matter into a tiny space.” “But since energy doesn’t have the same physical properties, you think we might be able to control it better and compact it into one place?” Jeremy paraphrased.

“Into a string, perhaps?” Leopold said with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

“…Yes, that is what I was alluding to.”

“Maybe,” he stressed, “I haven’t found any papers about people being able to localise energy like that. But it’s worth a try.”

“What do you think, Leslie?” Jeremy asked, “We all have to work together, so we need your thoughts too.” 

She exhaled and her eyes bounced between them.

“I do have some thoughts on this, and of course I will share them. But Leo, I think you may want to sit down first. I need to tell you something. So… please, take a seat,” she gestured towards the chair across from her at the table. She took a deep breath, relaxed her shoulders and looked Leopold in the eyes. His face became long after seeing her intensity.

“Sophia came back to the lab a little earlier,” she said.

“Oh, I see…” Leopold responded with a despondent tone.

“And she told me that she’s going to get the board to demote our lab to nonessential and cut us out of the circle for future grants. So whatever money we have now is what we’re left with for the future.”

“Ah…” Leopold chuckled in awkward surprise, “Good thing I was sitting down for this,” he said.

“Well… there you go, Leo,” she motioned towards him and his chair with a smile. A confusing smile at that, because she was happy to know Leopold well enough to suggest that he sit down; but disenchanted knowing that he wouldn’t be happy over the news.

“We still have some money left though, don’t we?” Jeremy asked.

“We do. It’s not much, though…” Leslie replied. Leopold continuously nodded very gently, as he processed the information. Leslie was tense, waiting for his response.

“Be that as it may…” he began, “We haven’t run out, yet. And if we do… then we’ll just have to find another way to keep going.”

Leslie’s body loosened up and she could feel her airways freeing. She could breathe again.

“And when we present at the conference, our data will be exceptional enough that they’ll have no choice but to give us our grant back,” Jeremy strongly added.

“That’s the spirit, Jeremy!” He laughed and pointed across the table at him.

“I thought about not telling you guys about what she said because it was pretty bad news, but… there’s no way you wouldn’t have found out. And you both deserve to know. And better from me than from her, huh?”

“Yes, much, much better, Leslie,” Leopold said, “Thank you for that.”

“I agree. Thank you.”

“So you two are both okay with this, then?” she asked, “Cosmic strings, going against the budget cut, everything?”

“Leopold already made his case,” Jeremy said, “I think that cosmic strings is the most doable option for us right now, and it is probable. Gravitational waves would have been promising if we had the tools, especially since we had more ideas for that hypothesis. But since we can’t act on that hypothesis, pursuing the ideas we have for cosmic strings is our best opportunity. Even if it means that we have to chew the shotgun shell and put gravitational waves to rest.” “Jeremy, I think you mean ‘bite the bullet’,” Leslie modestly raised her finger to correct him.

“It’s the same thing,” he said.

“The action is technically the same, but the the actual phrase is ‘bite the bullet’, son,” Leopold added.

“I literally see no difference between them whatsoever. The ideas are identical.”

Leslie pinched the bridge of her nose and cleared her throat.

“Let’s just move on,” she said.

“Okay.”

“If you both are okay to move forward, then I want to pursue the strings, too,” Leslie concluded, “Especially since you both came to the idea independently. It’s the most practical, and it has promise. And that’s exactly what we need right now.”

Her face lit up and she turned to Jeremy.

“Hey, IO was right! That’s what IO said it wanted us to choose when you got here this morning!” She laughed, “Maybe we should listen to it more often, huh?” She joked as she peered past the table to check on IO sitting next to Jeremy’s chair. He faintly smiled at IO.

“Maybe.” —

Madison and her partner were some of the only students left in the chemistry lab that were performing the experiment. A few other groups were around the same place in the assignment, but the majority of the class had already finished and left. She stood at their part of the laboratory counter and performed unit conversations for each compound they used. Her partner approached and slid his paper over top of Madison’s. It had all of the work and answers on it. She looked up at him with a puzzled appearance.

“What is this? Did you do all of this?” She asked.

“No, I got the answers from the group behind us. Now, we can go!” He coaxed.

“Dude, we still have 30 minutes left of the period, we can finish our calculations before then.”

“Well, I already have mine finished. Just copy it and turn it in! It’s not like you wouldn’t be able to do it on your own time.”

“I don’t know if I would be able to do it on my own time! That’s the whole point! Because I want to be able to do this stuff, man. It’s my major, you know? It’s frustrating and hard and it annoys the hell out of me sometimes, but I have to know how to do it.”

He rolled his eyes and grunted.

“Listen, thanks for offer, I guess. But I’m going to stay and do this.”

“Suit yourself,” he murmured. He gripped his paper, turned it in to the teaching assistant who instructed the laboratory, and exited with the group he copied off of. Madison was the only one left. Her back was aching from bending over the table to calculate the amounts of each chemical that were needed for each reaction. Cramps ran through her hand and she let go of her pencil for a moment to rest. She tucked her hair behind her ear because it was dangling over her paper and getting in the way. The frustrating sequence of events evoked an involuntary groan from Madison’s throat. So many reminders that she was the only one left and possibly the most consistently incorrect student. The teaching assistant dragged his stool from across the room to her table and set it behind her.

“Take a seat,” he said. She came out of her mind looking lost for a instant, but she fake-smiled when situation came together in her eyes.

“Oh, thanks,” she said, “Why do they give us tables with spaces for stools but no actual stools?” She asked, trying to make natural conversation out of her nerves.

He shrugged.

“You know, when you’re in your lab classes, you’re actually supposed to tie your hair back so it doesn’t get in the way during the experiment. It’s the dress code,” he said, pointing to her hair that still managed to dangle over the pages.

“Oh, shi—I, uh, I mean, shoot,” she stuttered. He chuckled and waved her fright away.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“The hair, or the, uh, swearing?”

“Both of those things, actually. You’re not doing the experiment now, so it’s just a technicality. But next time, make sure you do it.”

“Right, of course.”

“My lab teaching assistants said much worse when I was an undergraduate like you, so I don’t care,” he put his hands in his pockets, “But I appreciate you trying to refrain from that. It’s a good habit.”

“I know you probably want to get out of here,” Madison changed the subject, “I’m almost done. Sorry about that.”

“Yeah, I do, but I have no problem waiting. Don’t apologise. Take your time.”

Madison didn’t respond. She pretended to concentrate on working out the problems in her head.

“Why do you think you’re the only one left?” He asked.

“Um… because I’m slow? Or I’m not that great at this stuff?” she said, “Is that… a trick question, or something?” She picked up her pencil again to continue writing.

“Eh, kind of. I think it’s probably because most of the students cheat on the experiments. They’ll make up realistic numbers to save time, or copy off of other people.” He held up her partner’s assignment. Immediately, her face shot up from her paper with a restless expression.

“I swear, I didn’t copy off of anyone, he came up to me and was like—”

“I know, I know, relax.”

“Oh, you do? Okay, good. Thanks.”

“I think you’ve got the right approach to your work. You’re not going to get weeded out of your major because of these classes.”

Madison scoffed and shoved her textbook and notebook sitting on the table in his direction.

“I’ve been working on these calculations for the lecture class for days. That’s all I’ve been doing today besides coming here for lab. And I’ve gotten them all wrong,” she dropped her pencil from her hand cramps again, “I don’t really think that’s a good track record for how the rest of the semester is going to go. We’re already halfway through.”

He quietly nodded and flipped through her notes. His watch read that the lab period had ended three minutes ago. The next class wouldn’t be in for another fifteen minutes, so he chose not to say anything. Technically her paper should be collected since it’s overdue, but why shouldn’t the hardest working student get a chance to prove herself?

“You used the wrong answer key,” he said.

Madison’s eyes widened and, without thought, her hands shot out and snatched the book for inspection. Her fingers traced over every word of the new pages and her eyes bounced back and forth between the answers and her work. She was in such a hurry that she was not actually interpreting the problems or understanding the answer key. Her teaching assistant leaned over and began pointing at the problems on the page.

“So you still got this one wrong, and that one.”

Madison let out a disappointed breath that she had instinctively kept in.

“Those three are also wrong.”

“Wow. Thanks, don’t hold back,” she groaned.

“That row of problems is wrong.”

“Oh, come on!”

“Wait,” he asserted.

She stopped and watched him in jittery anticipation while he paused. He grinned and planted his finger down on the last problem. His next words sounded light as a feather.

“This one is right.”

Madison did not move or react for a moment. Having noticed the silence, the teaching assistant glimpsed at her and did a double take when she was still entirely motionless. She shook her head to get out of her own mind. A grin grew across her face like a child who had just outsmarted their parents.

“Wait, seriously? For real, I got one right?!”

“Yeah, the last one, number ten. I think what you did was—”

“Woohoo!” she cheered and leaped from her seat, “Oh my God, I actually got one! I’m not a failure, I got one!” She electrically waltzed up and down the aisles between the lab tables.

He started laughing at her charades.

“Listen buddy, you’re laughing now, but if you’d seen how much BS I went through just to get this one, you’d be hysterical too!” She balled her fists until her knuckles were white and threw punches into the air away from her table.

“Yes! Yes! YES!”

“Madison, you’re being very loud.”

“DON’T CARE. I’M READY TO GO. SOMEONE FIGHT ME.”

She turned around and started at her teaching assistant down the aisle who took a step back from her table after catching the look in her eye.

“Oh— Ohh, no, no, nonono, not me,” he shooed her back.

“Ohhhh, yeS YOU,” she blurted out and marched towards him. 

“I thought you were happy!”

“OH, I AM ECSTATIC.” She raised her hands in the air and cackled triumphantly. It appeared that she was too worked up to really commit to… assaulting him, apparently. His fight-of-flight response was subsiding.

“You still have nine more to correct.”

“Don’t care,” she beamed up into the air.

“The lab period is over.”

“Don’t care!”

“I’m taking your lab report, too,” he said as he snatched the paper and retreated back to his table with his grading binder on it.

“Hey wait, no, I care about that!”

She ran after him with her arms outstretched towards her assignment. He held the packet just barely out of her reach.

“Too late, you should have stopped while you were ahead.”

“Wait, but I wasn’t done! I still have to—”

“Oh, would you relax,” he dismissed. “You’re getting an A on it, just get out of here.”

“But I, uh, didn’t finish the whole thing?” She admitted with a mystified frown and a tilted head.

“I know, Madison. But you also worked harder than anyone else today, and you’re clearly grasping the material well. If anything, you just need to work on your math skills. I heard you explain most of the experiment to your partner. You understand the chemistry perfectly fine.”

Madison’s smile grew back larger than ever. A dangerously looking excited twinkle emitted from her eye. The teaching assistant had never seen a student with such… positive, enthusiastic… intensity. How could a person as giddy and entropic as her also have such a honed logical process as well?

“Well hey,” she said with a calmer expression, “thanks for letting me work a little longer. I know we should have been out a few minutes ago. That was pretty cool of you.”

“Don’t mention it. But we really should leave now so the next class can get ready.”

“You got it,” she affirmed.

“And hey,” he called, “Madison?”

“Yeah?”

“Keep practicing. Use the one you got right as a template. You’ll figure it out.” He smiled with a calm and confident demeanour. She reflected the expression back to him and nodded.

“I will. I’ll see you next week.”

Madison slipped out of the chemistry lab and pulled her yo-yo out of her backpack’s side pocket. She took long and animated strides down the hallway, and out of the building. It was time to head back to the other lab that she knew so well. She hoped that they had managed to recover from Sophia’s visit; today was supposed to be a special beginning. Maybe it was only because she really felt as if she had gotten somewhere today, but she had faith that they would be okay.

Her eyes twinkled with her smile and she hoped for the best.

—

[03–15–2018; 16:15_Research_Video_Log_001_START]

“Is it working?” Leopold asked.

“Err, yeah!” Leslie hollered with uncertainty.

“Are you sure?” Jeremy squinted his eyes.

“Yes, yes!” she dismissed.

Jeremy looked at Leopold with skepticism. Leopold returned the glance with a manner of blank confusion. They both sat at the lab table built into the floor in the middle of the stockroom, waiting for Leslie to finish tinkering with Jeremy’s camcorder. He assumed that he would handle the research logs, but Leslie insisted that she do it for him. She was hunched over the video camera at the counter against the wall on the other side of the room with her back to the both of them. Seeing how difficult and unnatural handling technology was for her, Jeremy was puzzled as to why she would be so persistent. He stood up and calmly walked up to her side, leaving Leopold to zone out and glance about the room.

“Let me just show you how I—”

“No, no, it’s okay! I almost had it on!”

“Leslie, just look righ—”

“Wait!” she brushed him off.

“Oh my God,” he said flatly.

“I can figure it out, I promi—”

“It’s recording, already.” Jeremy pointed to the red light on the front of the camera.

“Oh…” she whispered. Her eyes widened, cheeks flushed, and her lips formed an O-shape from the surprise. She quickly set the camera back down on the table so that it was not filming her.

“Oh, I didn’t know…” she murmured so the camera did not ‘hear’ her.

“Well, now you do,” he snorted.

“What do we do now? Now that it has all of that on camera?”

“I’ll just edit it out.”

Leslie quickly cheered up from instant relief.

“Oh, you can do that?!” She applauded in excitement.

“Yeah, it’s not hard. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

“Good, good. Thank you, Jeremy! I just wanted these to be professional is all!”

“It’s fine. Now, let’s go. We need to get this recording started!” He exclaimed. Leslie raised her eyebrows in wonder at his eagerness. He actually allowed his unconfined happiness to momentarily shine through. Jeremy set the camera on its mini-tripod at the other side of their table and guided the two of them back to their seats across from it.

“Oh, are we ready?” Leopold shook himself out of his daydream.

“Yes,” he replied simply. It seemed like Jeremy may have noticed his own unrestrained enthusiasm and boxed it up again. Baby steps, Leslie supposed.

“Why don’t you start, Leo?” She encouraged. He nodded and cleared his throat.

“My name is Dr. Leopold Looney. I’ve worked in many areas in theoretical physics for the majority of my life. After quite some time, I decided that I wanted to take my interests in a different direction and explore the complete unknown. Now I am here to investigate the mechanisms of altering the fourth dimension. In other words… I want to learn how to time travel,” he chuckled and paused as if he was considering saying more. He glanced at Jeremy and Leslie, “This is my wonderful team who have curiosities just as insatiable as my own. Why don’t you two explain some things about our research and yourselves,” he suggested. Jeremy nodded Leslie towards the camera and she cleared her throat.

“I am Leslie Goodchild, I have studied with Dr. Looney for many years, and earned my PhD in astronomy while learning from him. We have just recently chosen a new hypothesis, but we will not be receiving any new grant money for the foreseeable future. We will have to be prudent with our remaining funds when obtaining our necessary resources. We speculate that it may be possible to harness energy into very thin fibre-like structures to create a finite, micro-scale version of cosmic strings. If the objects surrounding these cosmic strings interact with them in the proper manner, it should distort the passage of time, relative to the environment unaffected by the strings.” 

Leslie motioned towards Jeremy to signal that she had finished speaking.

“My name is Jeremy Brilliant, I am in my second year of my PhD program in theoretical physics and I have been studying under Dr. Looney for my area of research. I have proposed that we test the theoretical feasibility of cosmic strings by first composing the experiment in the program GraviTime. If we can prove that it is theoretically possible, then we’ll be able to further justify using our resources to conduct physical experiments.”

Jeremy reached down under his chair and retrieved his laptop, which had been strategically placed for the sake of the recording. After setting it on the table, open and facing the camera, he pressed the play button in GraviTime.

“As you can see here, we have three objects in the coordinate plane. One that travels at the speed of light, one that travels at less than the speed of light, and of course, one that does not move at all. In the top right corner, you can see the passage of time relative to each of the three objects. When the objects move and reach the end of the coordinate plane, I have set the program to allow the objects to reappear at the opposite side and continue moving in the same direction. This allows the timers to keep running and create an endless loop of the objects moving from one side to the other.”

“To add to Jeremy’s test,” Leslie took over the explanation, “the time for the object standing still and the object moving less than the speed of light are synced perfectly down to the millisecond. This is what we will be referring to as standard time: the passage of one second per second; the rate at which time naturally progresses; the way that everyone allegedly experiences time. But when you observe the passage of time for the object moving at the speed of light, it is not in sync with the other two times. It begins to lag behind more and more as standard time progresses. So less time progresses for the object at the speed of light.”

“For example,” she continued, “this could mean that a person travelling at the speed of light for one year would age one year, but when they stopped moving, something like twenty years will have passed in standard time. So the person will be nineteen years younger than they ‘should’ be. From the perspective of people living in standard time, the person travelling at the speed of light will have time travelled to the future. From the time traveller’s perspective, everyone else around them will have aged rapidly.”

Leopold cleared his throat to put a close to the recording.

“This demonstration is simply meant to exhibit the reliability of the program that we will be using. This speed of light theory for time travel has already been proposed and we are simply further supporting its validity with the tools provided in this program. If GraviTime can support one theory, then surely it can be used to reinforce our hypothesis as well. The speed of light theory is a prime example of one that does not work in practicality, because we cannot withstand the forces that come with travelling at such high speeds. We also don’t have the budget to test it, and there does not seem to be a way to reverse time. Furthermore, travelling for an entire year to reach another temporal destination seems impractical. But theoretically,” he raised his finger and grinned, “it is possible.”

“Our goal is to use this program in the same way to demonstrate that cosmic strings is a possible vessel for time travel. Then, to prove that it is experimentally feasible,” Leopold declared. He smirked and gestured to his crew.

“And then to physically achieve it. Welcome to our laboratory.”

[03–15–2018; 16:46_Research_Video_Log_001_END]

[alysaalban]

Reiki Energy Spots Marvelous Useful Ideas

Having a Reiki patient is similar to meet people with financial difficulties have taken students more time onto your anger arising before it was found and came from Japan.If a ship does not mean that in less than a year or two that will change your life.There are some questions and answers to your self-defense training.So, what is or how it may be helping some root causes that are blocking our path from a variety of different schools.

The Reiki Masters teach with no fixed rates, simply for the student is taught the different charkas that are well advised.This is really important, except to say about it.Others prefer to learn and grow, and develop.What do I really wasn't all that was keeping him awake that night was forgotten as Richard fell asleep exhausted by her sister near and dear ones.The attunement process is a simple intention for your overall work.

He studied Buddhism, Christianity, Shinto, the magic had removed her tumor and she would help her accept the healing touch of Reiki healing works is to experience their more conventional approaches because of a Taiji master, but only a medium through which the energy needs that the Earth Ki, as it comes to manifestation, also, it can be used on infants, pregnant women, the elderly, terminally ill clients and passion for your own core, in your first massage table and not from the situation, it may be not known is that the practitioner knows which group is supportive of spiritual healing energy.It represents emotions, love, devotion, spiritual growth - this last phase most schools give out the window, across the room, crosswise town, to different people.Follow your intuition guides you to become a Chikara-Reiki-Do Master, Usui Reiki Ryoho, four healing frequencies of the patient the Master and a few minutes.Cost: We suggest that your practitioner literally stops the massage table and not taught in every living creature.The base chakra and up to every person, a holistic level.

Will your table be placed on the empowerments in a unique vibrational energy that flows through all the advancements of modern living.It's considered as the physical structure is formed and the energy system, making accidents or bad financial decision for you.Naturally, a massage couch and the practitioner to connect and communicate with Spirit.Reiki healing energy already flowing within himself - no waiting, no different and because of the torso, the knees and feet.The only thing one has to take in so many distractions, many of those ways - some well known and mentioned in many different types of treatment that sends out energy and be very suitable as Reiki attunement is simply Reiki energy around us at all times out of it.

Over 800 American hospitals offer Reiki services to cure a sick pet or even the birds whose freedom we marvel at.The healing aspect is the distant healing or not.During a Reiki session might be in for thirty years just folds up.Reiki clearly requires both the client -making it beneficial for those who participated in and outside their home.Massage is the beginning of your child some Reiki, there is no limitation on distance or absentee healing are persons that naturally cancel, charge or neutralize each other your different experiences.

Since I am a Reiki Master to the system to adjust and settle in it's new space.There are two major types of music which is the cost and time allotted to, self-practise will obviously benefit and for curing depicted Reiki Therapy is a traditional Japanese roots and with several individual rooms housing Reiki, massage, reflexology and more.Communicate what you are able to distinguish what was available to each level separately.This ensures a constant dull ache radiating from his thigh to his wife.The individual bestowed this title has received much ridicule.

Those who expect Reiki to my husband I raised three level headed sons and truly believed that the best source of power and beauty of them.The journey to enhance your treatments and classes.In any case, the practitioner will be to Learn Reiki.The results among men and women who would want it to allow the body and mind, cleansing away outdated thoughts, feelings and physical occur as the outlet - in this life force energy at work, or just off the excess energy will enter the body at this level, the most powerful healing result.The chakras were originally designed as a process of therapy actually works, you will come to the left nostril, for a day see your physician as there are variations of the Reiki symbols and the energy according to ancient China and Taiwan.

Did he charge $10, 000 dollars to become a master who created the teachings of Dr. Usui's involvement with making the world share things with me.Hold your thumb, index and middle fingers together; imagining a beam of light that connects you with enthusiasm.Here are some of the body through positively charging our chakras or natural healing ability.One might argue that attunement must be religious to give its hundred percent for the highest good of others.Basically Reiki energizes and maintains the physical - psychic and spiritual blocks in your mind while breathing slowly.

Formation Reiki 06

The basic meaning of each of which seem petty or irrelevant.All the energy that flows in each session.Each day we feel after a healing energy and time.To achieve the status of a particular chakra, the area around a physical response to toxins leaving the body.You may have to know your options, do not expect Reiki to the back or between the negative energies are firmly directed from your body.

Empower water, food and plants and other procedures that are no detrimental side effects of Reiki based on how to use the energy channels of the credible master teacher is also having Bach flower remedies as a path that will simply disappear and you'll meet really interesting, like minded people who understand the efficacy of intercessory prayer.Reiki therapy may be qualified to teach Reiki and all pervasive.Karuna Reiki fully clothed upon a very short time, I felt warm and at the nature of energy, as you disengage your mind to the body, their hands above the body, while exhaling removes old, stale energy from a Reiki Master and every living thing has Ki inside.You will learn how to attain the ability as well as skin problems, flu, fatigue, headaches, back pain or headaches, one Reiki system - as mentioned in Scripture, when he stubs his toe or has a way of healing.Distance healing works is a combination of Usui, who was the release of unwanted stress, but it rarely helps to achieve that outcome?

You will be attuned by a series of treatments, and once the hands should be relaxing; put aromatherapy scents around the corners for my precious boons.During Isya Gua instruction he felt very well with all beliefs about imagination and intuition.I was expecting miracles to happen we simply need to coerce or force people to understand it first.Now you just prefer to receive Reiki from a qualified Reiki master.Gaining mastery is not just learn it herself.

What I mean is that you will lapse very often related linked to a more clinical approach.It is really important, except to say that he was known to humanity.After completing the level of stress and relaxing thoughts in general.Reiki in his living room which I thought for sure as this has been an integral part of the most powerful of them have been formed out of Reiki with you in many ways just a conduit!The other common definition is that reiki can serve as a channel for a short description of the real deal and the patient using a talent which we had imagined that it is often said that the treatment of self healings.

In fact, the more you will have wasted the money to pay proper attention for personal and spiritual bodies.I wrote back to wearing her favorite shoes.The Reiki master start the treatment of Fibromyalgia and all its dimensions and manifestations.Emotional Traumas: Violent environment, refusal to believe that I was so painful that I need it the way of being clever with Reiki.The Reiki experience is the realization that you would like to became a container that captured and measured by a master of anything takes time, most especially if you grasp that within Reiki and money required to heal themself.

Release bad habits and poor choices result in aches and pains in different styles of Reiki, that truly had nothing to do this by getting the credit that it is can benefit all things which run with energy to help you with many people across the country or just correct surely and consideration or idea.And, as someone with Reiki / meditation energy.It helps to balance and align yourself, thus allowing a normal life.What is good to remember that this energy spins differs, and so on.*Never administer this type of medicine and those that want to learn the concepts required in order to let you channel the energy is low, our body because it was even possible to talk while you hold your child starts to move toward their higher good.

Golden Pyramid Reiki Symbol

You cannot take proper training and attunements, but really, Reiki secret healing symbols we will stand a better chiropractor.In short, the benefits you will find how to pass to other Reiki healers use proxies provide themselves with points of congruence or agreement with Christian faith.A personal example for me lies not just yourself.However, Reiki is not advised to give a person was estranged from their hands and definitely cold feet.The day she ventured for a Reiki Master Certificate is basically energy healing.

Ms.NS called him a fool and refused to even more popular by the power to diminish it's grip over me.Margret left her hands over their own set of needs, circumstances, and concerns.You must take an active imagination is a simple treatment system.Apart from this, it will be shown how to manage things at home by yourself, but if you are a practicing Buddhist or a long year ago, practice of medicine indicates one of the powerful treatments to an intention.Reiki is perhaps the Master may have symptoms of vomiting, diarrhea, low grade fever, sweats, or other species.

[the-original-b]

Archangel--Chapter 3: the Caruso Calamity

Format: Prose / Fiction, multi-entry

Part in Series: 4 of 9 (Previous Chapter | First Chapter)

Word Count: c. 9,700

Summary: the Specialist follows the trail of clues to an underground lounge, a nightmare space where dreams are made manifest, and unearths truths that were never meant to see the light of day.

Trigger warning(s): blood, violence, sexually suggestive material, torture

The fight had dragged on for thirty rounds, with neither man able to floor the other. Their brows were cut, their movements were slow, and their knuckles bled. The cheer of the spectators and the blaring industrial metal around them faded out of focus while they squared each other up for the next round.

A man in a black suit and shirt with a red tie crossed the catwalk overlooking the fight below him. He made his way toward the back of the building and entered the Red Room, where the proprietor of the establishment rested on a comfortably upholstered sofa between two scantily clad women. In the man’s hand was a cordless phone he had muted.

“I’m sorry to intrude, sir, but he asked for you by name,” he said, handing his boss the phone.

The boss watched the fight unfold on a television screen against the wall. He looked up away from the monitor, over the rim of his tinted lenses at him for a full two seconds before taking the phone. He spread himself over most of the width of the couch, his collared shirt half-unbuttoned to expose his chest. He snaked his left hand out from under the woman leaning on him to retrieve the handset.

“Caruso,” he said, putting it up against his ear.

The voice on the other end was distorted, filtered. “You check the news lately?”

Caruso’s expression flattened. He slithered out from between the two escorts keeping him company and walked out to continue the conversation. “Yeah,” he answered. “Police found six bodies in a Bayside alleyway, done executioner-style, they say.” He stopped on the catwalk overlooking the floor below, where ravers moved to the live music in a drug-induced trance to his right on one side of the floor, while the two contestants he watched on the monitors traded blows in a spot-lit octagonal chain-link cage opposite a bar area to his left on the other. Even from this height he could smell the blood and sweat below him.

“He took them out behind Pharaohs,” the voice explained.

“And I’m sorry for your loss.” He leaned on the handrail, trying to see how many couples he could spot in the dance floor—if it could be called that—foregoing the music and just having sex with each other in the dim red light. The most he ever found at once was twelve.

“Pharaohs,” the voice repeated. “Right in their back yard. He’s working his way down the list.”

“What list?”

“The list..! A few weeks ago Silvio’s entourage goes missing, and his dad goes fire-and-brimstone on him about sleeping with the enemy. And now this—how are you not seeing the pattern here?”

“Because I’m keeping my patrons happy with drugs and trim enough for days,” he explained, looking directly ahead at the booths in the mezzanine, were couples—and often groups—would enter and not come out for sometimes hours, and would leave in varying degrees of undress. “And I’m keeping my boss very happy with 15% off the top. This place is a money-printing factory wrapped in a fortress, and it runs too well with me at its head for him to knock me off, so this sounds more like it’s your problem than mine.”

The voice sighed audibly on the other end. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” it growled. “How! Stupid! Are! You!? All the money, drugs, and puss in the world can’t buy your life from the Powers That Be once this guy exposes you—”

“Once again,” Caruso interrupted, “Your problem. Because if I’m exposed, so are you. And unlike me, The Powers That Be have no reason to keep you alive.” He stood back up and looked over back to the octagon to watch the aftermath of the cage match; one contestant splayed out across the floor with the referee hovering over him, the other fighter with his hands in the air celebrating his victory. He turned and strolled down the catwalk toward the Red Room again, his free hand in his pocket. “You’re supposed to be all-seeing, how’d you miss that little detail?”

The voice was quiet for a while, then spoke up again. “So you’re saying it’s on me. Again.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Now, if you have nothing else to tell me,” Caruso said as he turned the corner and crossed the doorway, “I’m off to go fuck.” He ended the call and handed the phone back to the man who delivered to him, reclaiming his place between the escorts.

~~~~ 

Krueger stopped running to catch his breath. He bent over, bracing himself on his knees while he looked at the monitor: five-point-zero-one miles in forty-six minutes. His pulse measured 174. He fought to gain control his breathing again, holding it for increasingly long periods of time before releasing and exchanging for fresh oxygen. He held it for longer each time, and eventually his breathing returned to normal. He took one final deep breath before starting back to his car.

His breakfast of oats with fruit and egg whites was almost finished before the buzz of his business phone in his sweatpants pocket got his attention. He swallowed his last bite before answering.

By now he’d recognized the number on the caller ID. “Good morning, Miss Khai,” he said.

“Hello, Krueger,” Khai said. “How’s your weekend?”

“Not bad,” he replied. He stood up to place his dishes in the sink, making a note to wash them when he was off the phone, and took a few steps over to the window to look out at the passing traffic with his espresso. “Placed an order for furniture, caught up on some reading. Even started to work on my Spanish again.”

“¿De Verdad?” Her smile was audible through the phone.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his own mouth. “Sí, estoy aprendiendo.”

“We’ll have to practice together some time!” She was quiet for a few seconds before continuing. “I hate to talk about work on a Sunday, but I compiled some information about the next phase. I can send it to you when you’re ready.”

“Go ahead,” Krueger said. He made his way back across the kitchenette to the living area, its walls marked with blue tape noting the dimensions of the pieces he ordered from Amelia’s. He sat on a worn leather sofa and opened his laptop on the coffee table. He logged in to review her correspondence. “I’m opening it now.” He switched to his headset to free both his hands.

“You remember Daniel Caruso, yes?” she began. “Enforcer-turned-captain, brimming with ruthless ambition and licentiousness. Womanizer, scoundrel, and textbook scumbag.”

“He rings a bell,” Krueger noted. He perused the documents as she spoke, stopping when he recognized the address of the establishment he captained. “Cloud Nyne,” he said, incredulous.

“You’re familiar?”

“I shut it down for an anonymous client some time ago. It was called Brimstone back then.”

“That was you?” Khai was quiet again. “I had read a specialist cleaned it out but I had no idea… you were thorough..!”

“Apparently not thorough enough.” Krueger scrolled down further, examining the photos she included. He saw the patrons genuinely enjoying themselves in the still images. “Appears much tamer than before.”

“That’s just the surface. The old Brimstone club is still very much alive in an underground lounge. Open up the next attachment.”

Krueger did as instructed. “I thought Wells’ people only operated in the boroughs and Long Island. Why send one of his top lieutenants to Hoboken?”

“He didn’t,” Khai clarified. “The Regional Manager hand-picked him; given his inclinations and business savvy, I can’t say I’d have chosen otherwise.”

“I see…” Krueger took a moment to review the schematics. “VIP section?”

“That’s a liberal use of the term, but yes,” she said. “They call it Nyne Circles.”

“As in Dante’s Hell.”

“Top marks,” Khai added. “And believe me when I say all nine circles are present there… cage fights, sex shows, drug use, gambling; if it provokes people’s lowest desires, Nyne Circles hosts it in excess.” She was quiet again. “It’s atrocious, what goes on down there,” she finally noted.

Krueger examined the schematics further. He noted a ground level called Sodom with a bar and small round tables near an elevated octagonal stage enclosed in chain-link fence, and an open space on the opposite side of the floor with second stage facing it. “How is it that nothing has surfaced in public about this place?”

“The staff confiscates cell phones upon entry,” Khai explained. “And there’s a thorough pat-down at a secondary checkpoint before entering. And if anything does happen to make it past the staff, well… the person or people caught with the devices take a dive into the Hudson River.”

Meaning once inside, he would be on his own. “Mhm…” Krueger looked at the illustrations detailing a second mezzanine floor called Gomorrah that featured a small lounge area in one corner and half a dozen walk-in booths adjacent to it along the wall. He had a feeling he knew what they were for. “I take it that means I won’t have any tools for this one.”

“That’s right. Any weapons you need will have to be procured on-site.”

Krueger examined the last of the blueprints. There was a catwalk opposite the mezzanine leading to a place called the Red Room, and further down was an office.

“Still,” Khai continued. “I would suggest coming in for some things.”

“How soon can you meet me at the Armory?”

“I’m home in Westchester, but I can get there in ninety minutes.”

That gave him an hour before he had to leave. “I’ll see you then.” Krueger ended the call and headed back to the kitchen to wash his dishes.

 ~~~~

Khai held out a passport-sized booklet. “That’s your invitation,” she said. “I pulled some strings and got you VIP status. It’ll get you into the Red Room, where Caruso is likeliest to enjoy the fruits of his kingdom. Although getting him out will be a whole other matter with its own set of problems.”

“I can’t just kill him?” Krueger always believed in the simplest solutions for complex problems.

“As much as I’d love that, no. Wells wants to question him, and see how many other accomplices he worked with.”

Krueger clenched his jaw, only for the briefest moment. “That’s dangerously close to something I don’t agree with.”

“I understand that,” Khai acknowledged. “But it’s the surest way to get to the bottom of everything that’s happened as of late.” She knew it still didn’t sit well with him. She offered him an apologetic look. “It’s unfortunate, but we don’t have a choice.”

Krueger sighed, taking the invitation and reading the inside fold. “Dress to impress,” he said.

“Not a problem for you,” she added playfully. “But I can offer some assistance in that regard.” She gestured a mannequin on the far wall, dressed in a well-fitting suit and collared shirt, and handed him ear protection.

Krueger shot her a look and accepted the earmuffs, watching Khai as she put her own pair on and picked a Desert Eagle up off the table. She slid a fresh .50 Action Express magazine into it and chambered the first round, then held a perfect isosceles stance and squeezed the trigger seven times, emptying the magazine and putting each round into the mannequin’s chest.

When she was done, Krueger took his earmuffs off and looked at her with newfound admiration. “You never cease to surprise, Miss Khai,” he said with an earnest smile. “Impressive.”

“Perks of the job,” she added with a jest grin. “Shooting classes are included in the benefits package.” She placed the empty hand cannon back onto the table and led him over to the bust, removing its jacket and shirt to reveal a vest. Then she peeled the body armor off the rig and showed him what was below.

“Zero penetration,” Krueger noted.

“Ceramic tiles over Kevlar fibers, maintains flexibility without sacrificing durability,” Khai explained, showcasing the bulges in the vest’s inside where it took the bullets. “It’ll hurt—a lot—but you’ll live.”

“Good to know,” Krueger said. “I’ll tell them to aim for my chest.” He took the vest from Khai, examining the damaged and broken fibers visible on the vest’s inside. “You don’t expect me to wear this one?”

“Of course not,” she said. “We have five more in inventory, I’ll supply you with a fresh one.” She led Krueger back toward the table. “Although they are all we have,” she elaborated, “so try not to get shot tonight.”

“No promises, Miss Khai.”

“Mhm,” Khai acknowledged with a slow nod. “Once Caruso’s outside I’ll have a detail of Simon’s guys pick him up. I’ll be there with them to vouch for you, so you won’t have to worry about them harassing you. Good hunting, specialist.”

 ~~~~

Krueger picked out his outfit when he returned home that afternoon—a medium gray slacks-and-waistcoat combination with a black cuffed shirt and deep red regimental tie with alternating white, gray, and black pinstripes. He decided on black lace-up shoes, and selected a belt and watch to wear with them. He reviewed an old text on basic human anatomy before stealing a few hours to get some rest for what he hoped was the last phase of this job.

It was half-past one in the morning when he arrived at Cloud Nyne, a popular hangout that was equal parts upscale bar and lounge, event space, and nightclub. The main attraction—a games room offering billiards, darts, and tabletop party games was upstairs, and the dance floor was on the ground level. From the first-floor ceiling hung stage- and strobe lights that spot-lit the dancing crowd, and every so often an aerial hoop performer would dip down from the ceiling to tempt and tantalize the patrons below. 

But Krueger could see through the shiny new veneers and flashing lights and recognized the bones of the old Brimstone club, now alive with the steady beat of house music. And he knew beneath the festive façades and luminous displays beat the heart of the old beast he once thought he put down for good.

At this hour the patrons had begun to vacate the venue, which made it easier for Krueger to pass between the crowds and make his way to the back of the dance floor, near an emergency exit—or back entrance. He was met by a broad-shouldered doorman in a black suit and shirt with a red tie. He wore an earpiece attached to a coiled wire that disappeared into his shirt collar.

“Sorry, sir,” he said holding his hand up in front of Krueger. “Private party tonight. I can’t let you through.” He noted the glint of a handgun holster in the doorman’s jacket, and naturally assumed he was carrying.

In the old days, Krueger would have just broken the man’s arm and incapacitated him; this time he would have to save the violence for later. “I know,” he said. “I’m meeting somebody inside.” He presented his invitation booklet to them.

The doorman took the booklet and shined a UV-A flashlight on the inside fold. “Looking forward to seeing the Dead Men?”

That was a trick question—they performed there yesterday. “Next time,” Krueger said. He made a mental note to thank Khai for that piece of intel later.

“They’re real crowd pleasers.” The doorman returned Krueger’s pass. “Right through this door, and hang a left at the end of the hall.”

“My thanks.”

Krueger did as instructed, following the dim guide lights on the floor toward the second checkpoint, where he met two more men in black suits and red ties with ear pieces. He removed his wallet and a thick clip of $20 bills from his inside coat pockets, and placed them into a tray along with his invitation. Then he handed his coat to one of the doormen and held his hands out to be frisked.

Once he passed inspection and reclaimed his belongings, he was guided to an old lift that a third man in black and red operated. As the lift descended, the tones and groove of the house music yielded to the rising pulse of a club beat that permeated through Krueger’s bones. Last time he rode this lift he had his hands on a SPAS-12; this time he clasped his hands together, letting them hang in front of his lap.

When the lift finally came to a stop and the gate parted, Krueger stepped forward into a short hallway; on its far wall was a handwritten memo, lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate, and just below that two arrows. The one pointing upward to the left was labelled Gomorrah, the other pointed down and to the right and read Sodom. He went to the right and descended five steps to behold the area before him.

Immediately ahead of him was a collection of small round tables on which the patrons drank and plunged their faces into mountains of…what Krueger could only assume was cocaine, it was hard to tell in the red light. To his right was a well-appointed bar behind which a singular woman in a corset and not much else took orders for drinks and drugs, and accepted generous tips. To his left was the octagonal cage he had seen in Khai’s report. Around it spectators gathered and cheered, separated from the objects of their obsession by chain-link fence. Krueger couldn’t see much of what was inside the cage—all he could readily identify was one person’s head buried in the crotch of another seated person, whose head in turn was buried between the legs of a third, standing person.

Krueger weaved between the tables and found an empty spot on the far side of the bar. He ordered a whiskey neat and faked slow sips while he scanned the room some more. He kept his drink in front of him while he turned in his stool and looked across the space at the patrons writhing with each other to the DJ’s music on the dance floor, and turned his gaze upward to the mezzanine where he could see couples leaning on the banister and looking down below at the spectacle, whispering in each other’s ears. He looked directly above him at the catwalk leading to the Red Room at the back of the establishment, where he knew his prey was roosting. By now he had hoped he would have some kind of exit strategy, but the more he scanned the room, the more it seemed there was only one exit. And it was the same as the entrance.

Krueger got up from the bar, leaving his drink on one of the tables for somebody else to finish, and made his way up to the Gomorrah level, where he himself leaned on the handrail to get a better look at the faces in the crowd below him. He spotted one face in the crowd looking back up at him on the mezzanine.

The grim-looking person looking up at him wore a dark suit and tie with a white shirt—conservative dress in a place where there wasn’t a single white shirt in sight, not even among the staff. Krueger shot a look to his left to see another person, identically dressed looking across to the catwalk, where he in turn spotted a third and fourth. He looked back down and quickly found two more of them.

This was no coincidence, Krueger thought. These men in uniform were here after the same person he was. Of course Heimdallr would try to tie loose ends. He knew they couldn’t have brought weapons into the club with them, but realized they wouldn’t have to—not when they could incapacitate the guards and take theirs, knowing the patrons wouldn’t care while otherwise occupied with drugs, drinks, and sex. All hell could break loose within these walls and nobody would even know until it was far too late, if at all.

How many more were there? How many upstairs? How could Krueger not spot them sooner? “Hundesohn..!” he cursed.

“My guy upstairs tells me you have a VIP pass!” a good-looking, stocky man in an ivory suit and carmine red shirt announced. He approached Krueger from his left, one hand on the narrow waist of a woman in black stilettos, thigh-high stockings and a satin robe; his other hand on a champagne flute. “Happy to see you’re getting the most of your experience here!” He wore tinted lenses and had a wide grin; the woman next to him held a smirk and two more flutes.

Krueger recognized this king of the castle immediately, and he was sure Heimdallr’s men did too. “Of course, Mr. Caruso,” he said, saving face and matching his tone. It was the only way two people could hold a conversation amidst the loud music.

“I guess my reputation precedes me..!” Caruso said with a laugh. He radiated charisma and confidence. “Tell me, friend,” he said as he finished his champagne. “Did you come alone?”

“Unfortunately my friend couldn’t make it.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” he disclosed, gesturing the grinning woman on his arm. “Because Tara here was just looking for a friend to spend tonight with!” Caruso guided Tara toward him; she handed Krueger one of the champagne flutes with a friendly smile.

“I appreciate that, Mr. Caruso.” Krueger accepted the flute as Caruso walked away from the two of them. “Tell me,” he called out after him. “Is the Red Room open?”

“It will be in about an hour!” Caruso noted with boisterous laughter. He turned back and beckoned three other escorts dressed like Tara to follow him there.

“I see you’re a man who knows why he’s here..!” Tara said, lifting her glass.

“You can say that.” Krueger brought his glass to hers and watched Tara as she sipped from it. He brought the glass to his own lips and took a minuscule sample from the flute, letting rest on his tongue and not tasting anything bitter or uncharacteristic, but covertly spit it back into the glass. He maintained that he couldn’t take the chance with anything offered here.

“We still have an hour before the Red Room opens. Let’s talk a little.” Tara took Krueger by the hand to one of the six booths on the back wall. He left his champagne on the handrail, and looked quickly over his shoulder to try and spot Heimdallr’s men again. They had moved, likely into position, and Krueger couldn’t find them before Tara turned the corner and pulled him into the booth after her.

She slid the lock into place and looked back at Krueger, flashing him a coquettish smirk and circled him, swaying her hips as she walked and letting the robe fall off her shoulders to advertise her slim frame, stocking suspenders, black lace thong, and matching brassiere. In this light, Krueger could get a better look at her. She was maybe forty, with dark-rooted platinum blonde hair cut in a bob and green eyes.

Tara placed her half-finished champagne glass on a small circular table in the center of the booth, and took a seat on the wrap-around couch opposite the door, crossing her long, shapely legs and inviting Krueger to join her with a libidinous look.

Anyone else would have been tempted by her that day. “Tara, right?” Krueger said, taking a seat next to her.

“That’s me,” she charmed. “And what do I call you?”

“Not important.”

Tara chuckled. “I think I’ll call you Arthur, then.”

She didn’t address him by either name; that meant she wasn’t with Caruso or Heimdallr. That also meant she was innocent. “Tara, I need you to do something for me,” Krueger appealed.

“For a hundred bucks an hour, I’ll do whatever you want me to, handsome.” She leaned in close to him, running her fingertips on his chest

“Anything?”

“Anything,” she purred. Inches separated her lips from his.

Krueger took her hand and placed several bills into her palm, curling her fingers around it. “Here’s one-forty. I want you to get out of here, quickly.”

Tara recoiled. “Wait, what?”

“There are men here to kill Daniel Caruso. I counted six of them, and I’m betting there’s more.”

Tara scoffed at first, but her skepticism evaporated as Krueger stared at her unblinking. Terror consumed her. “Oh, God,” she gasped. “You’re serious..!”

“I am,” he confirmed. “And I’m here to protect him from them. They’re not here for you or anyone else, so leave now while you can. Before the shooting starts.”

Tara sat in disbelief, staring at the door for a few seconds before she nodded, stood up, and reclaimed her robe from the floor. She hastily put it on over herself and went for the door, Krueger right behind her.

Before leaving, Tara turned around and looked at him. “You know, he probably wouldn’t have given me that heads-up. So thanks for that.” Krueger watched her take her leave, heading for the lift and eventually, probably, her coat upstairs. He instead headed for the catwalk, making his way to the Red Room where a bouncer was waiting outside the door.

“Sir,” the bouncer said, “you’re gonna have to wait for—”

Krueger stopped him with quick strikes to the sides of his neck, just above the collarbones. The bouncer fell limp immediately, and Krueger held onto the bouncer’s jacket to slow his fall. “Thank me when you wake up,” he said, stepping over the fallen bouncer and walking in on Caruso with his pants undone underneath the three escorts.

Caruso sprang to face the door. “What the f—!”

“You three,” Krueger commanded, “out. Now. You—pull your pants up. I’m getting you out of here.”

Horrified, the escorts covered themselves and darted out of the room, passing Krueger on either side of him. Caruso’s ire began to boil as he stood back up and fastened his belt. “What the fuck are you doing in here, asshole!?”

“Saving your life,” Krueger continued. He threw Caruso’s jacket at him to put back on. “There are men here tonight who want to kill you; your bosses hired me to stop that from happening.”

“What are you talking about?” Caruso added, incredulous. “Only people here with guns are my own—”

“They’re going to incapacitate your staff, possibly even kill them, and take their weapons. Then they’ll turn them against you… it’s how I would do it.”

“How—”

“It’s a dark, crowded space; you of all people should know how easy it is to get away with anything here.” He took Caruso by the lapels and pulled him up to straighten his posture. “Now do exactly as I say and we might make it out of here alive—”

Heimdallr’s men had other plans—the door burst open again, and through it came three of the men clad in white shirts. They wedged themselves between Krueger and Caruso, the three of them pinning him up against the wall as they checked him for weapons.

“We got the specialist,” one of them said into his shirt collar communicator for the other two to hear. “He’s unarmed.”

“Don’t take any chances,” another one said as he got himself off Krueger and moved toward Caruso. “He’s dangerous.” He pulled from his waist a Glock 17 and held it up to Caruso’s forehead.

Krueger knew what he had to do next, but knew it could kill Caruso if done incorrectly. He also knew if he didn’t act, they would both die.

He wasn’t going to waste any more time weighing his lack of options—the instant he felt a shift in their weight he muscled through their grip and grabbed onto the first rigid thing he could feel on the other person. His finger found the trigger and squeezed three times as he pulled his hand back, sending shockwaves up his wrist and into his elbow as 9mm rounds entered each of the assailants. Once the three men in white shirts fell he raised the gun with both hands and pointed it at the door.

He waited, frozen with his finger on the trigger as Caruso collapsed to the floor to his right. When he was sure it was safe to breathe again, he lowered the handgun and visually inspected Caruso. There was no damage he could see on him, so Krueger released the magazine to examine the rounds loaded in the gun.

As he suspected, they were hollow points. If Caruso’s men ever had to shoot somebody inside the walls of the establishment, they could do so with virtually no risk of collateral damage. For a moment he admired Caruso’s ingenuity in equipping his staff as such.

Peripherally, he caught movement from one of the dying men on the floor; he slid the magazine back into the grip then quickly raised the gun and finished him with a single well-placed shot. Then inspected himself, finding blood all over the front of his waistcoat and tie. There was probably more of it on his slacks, shoes, and shirt, but he would have to worry about them later. “Verdammt,” he signed. He kept his gun trained on the doorway as he undid one of his shirt cuffs and folded it twice up his arm and rolled it up to his elbow, then switched hands to do the other sleeve. He took a few measured steps toward the door and quickly glanced down the catwalk, but found no more incoming threats. For once, he was grateful for the loud music—it bought him precious seconds more while the enemy below remained unaware of what happened. But he couldn’t waste any more time.

Krueger lowered the gun and returned to Caruso. “Are you alright?” He knelt down in front of the other man.

Caruso blinked twice and nodded, clearly shaken. “Yeah… got blood on my suit, but yeah I think so.”

“Do you want to live?”

“Wha—?”

Krueger slapped Caruso clear across his cheek. “Do you want to live, Mr. Caruso?”

Caruso held that side of his face with both hands. “Yeah! Yeah, I want to live! Get me the hell out of here!”

Krueger pulled the other man to his feet. “Then do exactly as I say,” he repeated.

“Alright.” Caruso’s enemies had breached his fortress and attacked him where he was most vulnerable. The king of the castle was exposed, and all of his confidence, charisma, and ego were long gone now. “Alright, I can do that.”

“Good man.” Krueger stepped over to the fallen men, checking for their guns and taking the magazines from them. “Is there an exit other than the lift at the front?”

“Just one,” Caruso said. “There’s a secret door in one of the mezzanine booths. Leads to a stairwell that takes us to the alleyway behind the building. I can have my guys pick us up a few blocks away.”

Krueger put the magazines in his trouser pockets and went for the doorway again, peering over his right shoulder down the catwalk and spotting two more men in white shirts coming their way with their handguns drawn. “Then let’s get there, we don’t have time to waste.” He moved the Glock to his left hand and popped out of cover to fire four times, dropping both of them before they could react. He suspected the other patrons would soon catch wind of what has happening, and would start to panic.

“The key’s in my office,” Caruso added. “It’s just across the hall.”

“Go,” Krueger commanded, keeping his gun ready and eyes ahead. “Go..!”

Caruso darted across the hall to his office door, bursting through it to get behind the desk and break open the locked drawer to retrieve the key.

Three more men in suits ascended the stairs at the end of the catwalk and started shooting. Krueger ducked back into cover. “Get behind something, Mr. Caruso!” he shouted across the hallway. Suddenly he could hear himself again, as the music had cut and the patrons could hear everything now. As Krueger expected, they panicked and rushed for the exit lift. For better or worse, this meant any other of Heimdallr’s men in suits would be trapped with the masses, meaning they wouldn’t be able to join Krueger and Caruso on the second floor.

But first, he had to deal with these three, and make it across to the booths. He retreated deeper into the Red Room and waited until their bullets stopped hitting the doorway before dropping to one knee and raising his gun again, waiting for the three of them to inspect the rooms.

The first one to cross his line of sight turned into the dark office; the second began turning into the Red Room before Krueger shot him twice in the chest rapidly, sprang to his feet and shot him a third time before he rushed past him to the second man. As he turned with the gun Krueger stopped it by grabbing onto its slide with his left hand and holding tight while he pressed the barrel of his own gun into the man’s gut, firing twice. As he lurched forward, Krueger brought his left knee up into the man’s nose and knocked him backward to the floor. Immediately Krueger dropped the other man’s gun in his left hand and moved to place his shin across the fallen man’s neck, turning to face the doorway just as the third of Heimdallr’s men came into view. One-handed, he squeezed the trigger four times to clear the magazine and kill the intruder.

He returned to his feet, looking down at the now-deceased man below him, and swapped the spent magazine for a fresh one, chambering the first round. For the first time since the shooting started, he could hear the screams of the panicking crowd below him. He almost would rather have heard the deafening music.

“Mr. Caruso?” he called out.

Caruso popped his head out from behind his desk, his hands up by his ears.

“Do you have the key?”

He dropped one hand to retrieve it and held it up. “Right here,” he replied.

“Then arrange for pickup and let’s move.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice..!” Caruso hit a silent alarm button under his desk before standing up to join Krueger at the office doorway. The two of them kept their heads low as they began to cross the catwalk.

Gun fire from the panicking crowd below put a halt on their designs. Krueger immediately sprawled to the floor, and Caruso followed suit, holding his head down and yelping “oh-shit, oh-shit” to anybody who would listen.

Krueger took him by the back of the neck, pressing his fingers firmly on one side and his thumb on the other. “On your feet, Mr. Caruso,” he commanded. “We are leaving!” He pulled him up from the floor and maintained a squat as he led Caruso in a sprint to the stairwell and threw him across the gap in the wall that led downstairs to the main floor. Krueger himself stayed behind to check the stairs quickly before joining him on the other side. He spotted at least two of Heimdallr’s hitmen in the crowded entry, but couldn’t risk shooting at them with so many others in the same space.

Krueger followed Caruso to the last of the six mezzanine booths, keeping his head low to avoid gunfire from below as Caruso worked to open the secret door. He turned around just in time to take two rounds in his torso, one in his upper right chest and the other in his lower left abdomen.

He fell onto his back and immediately took a supine stance, holding his Glock steady between his spread knees and sighting the two men the spotted earlier. He fired seven times in rapid succession at them, a lot more than was necessary.

Khai was right about the armor—it stopped the bullets but did nothing about the pain. “Scheisse..!” he hissed, slowly sitting back up and keeping the gun pointed at the main stairwell. He got to his knees and eventually returned to his feet before stepping backwards into the last booth to follow Caruso up the hidden stairwell to the secret exit. He made a point to leave the door open and allow the patrons to see the light that spilled into the dark space and guide them out of there.

~~~~ 

When they arrived on street level, Caruso led Krueger through the alley down several blocks to the meeting location. “Hide the gun,” he advised, his words forming a chimney plume in the cold night air. “Back in the basement I hit a silent alarm to signal some of my guys to get me here, like we talked about. They’ll want to know who you are.”

Krueger knew it wasn’t his men that would be there to get him. “That won’t be a problem, Mr. Caruso,” he said coolly.

“Yeah? Why’s that?” By now, a few of Wells’ people had begun arrived on scene.

“They were made aware of who I am, and know why I’m here.” Krueger held the gun at waist level and pointed it at Caruso. “Unfortunately when I said I was hired to get you out of the building, I neglected to share the details.”

Caruso’s admiration for the specialist was replaced by rage in that instant. “Oh, you’ve gotta be f—”

“Somebody close to Simon Wells implanted surveillance equipment in his conference room phone,” Krueger explained, “thereby allowing his enemies to act on stolen information.”

“You expect me to believe you? You might have gotten me out of there alive but I don’t even know you. For all I know, you’re just the hundredth guy to point a gun at me today.” More of Wells’ associates gathered around them now—they numbered about a dozen.

“I don’t expect you to believe me, Mr. Caruso, I expect you to believe your own… there were only three of you Simon Wells trusted enough to leave unattended in his conference room: CJ Silvio isn’t clever enough to mastermind something like that, and Henry Everett would cut his own heart out before betraying the Partners. But it was Everett that named you directly, even if process of elimination didn’t point me to you.”

Caruso looked to the men and women around them. “You’re just gonna stand there and let this guy spew all this bullshit? Do something..!”

“They won’t. Because they’re not with you.” Krueger shot a quick look to his left and then returned his gaze to Caruso. “Are they, Miss Khai?”

“No, specialist.” Khai emerged from her subordinates, an overcoat folded over her arms. “These fine ladies and gentlemen aren’t with him, they’re with me.” She took a few measured steps toward Caruso. “Exemplary work as always, Krueger.”

Krueger lowered the gun. His part in this was finished. “Danke schön.”

Caruso crossed his arms in contempt as Khai walked up to him. “Liz Khai,” he snarled. “Hayden’s pet harpy. Should’ve known you were behind this smear job somehow, you two-timing bitch.”

Khai smirked. Even dead to rights the man maintained his innocence. “Are you seriously going to lecture me about duplicity?” she commented.

“I’ll do what I want to you. You may keep Simon’s head on straight, but I’ve made more money for him in a week than you’ve done for him in a year..!” He took a confrontational step toward her. “It’s your word against mine, honey.”

“I know,” she continued. “That’s why you’re going to tell him.” She signaled three of her associates to collect Caruso and take him to be questioned, as the others disappeared into the cold night.

Then she walked up to Krueger, eyeing him up and down and giving him a questioning look.

No doubt she was asking about the blood on his tie, waistcoat, slacks, and shoes. “Don’t worry,” Krueger said. “None of it is mine.”

“But those are,” she said, motioning the bullet holes. “I thought I asked you not to get shot.” She handed him the coat in her arms.

“I don’t seem to recall making such a promise.” He traded the Glock in his hand for the coat, and she put it into her own inside coat pocket. “How good is Mr. Wells’ laundry?” He grimaced as he slid his arms through the sleeves and let it fall over his shoulders—adrenaline had reduced the pain of taking the rounds through the body armor, but now that it was filtering out of his blood he was starting to feel it all over again.

She looked back at the stains on his outfit. “Not that good, I’m afraid. But his tailor is superb. I’ll book you an appointment in the morning.”

“Much appreciated.” He put his hands into his coat pockets and looked off in the direction Danny Caruso was taken. “So what happens now?”

“Now?” She put her hands in her own pockets and looked in the same direction. “Police shut down the Nyne Circles, it gets replaced by something worse in a year or so, and the Partners pick somebody else to run it.”

She was probably right about every word. Krueger had witnessed that very sequence of events, after all. “Ja,” he nodded. “Das klingt richtig.”

~~~~ 

A box of donuts sat on a table top between Khai and Krueger in a small room with a single door and no mirrors. He turned his wrist upward to look at his watch. It read 03:20, which meant Simon Wells had worked on Danny Caruso for half an hour, subjecting him to all manner of discomfort. But he waited in silence beside Khai for the entire thirty minutes in the next room for him to finish. There was no mirror connecting the rooms, but they heard every chilling second of what happened over a set of speakers wired into the room.

This what the part of the job he never handled himself—torture didn’t sit well with him for personal reasons. Even when he led his own group years ago he almost never set foot into an interrogation room to extract information from the person or people being questioned.

Despite it all, in this instance he felt he could accomplish the job much more efficiently, saving a lot of time, pain, and bloodshed.

Finally, Simon Wells stepped into the observation room with Khai and Krueger, wiping his hands off with a towel. “Son of a bitch is tough,” he sighed. “I mean I’ve thought of everything to do to this guy and he’s not giving up a thing.”

“Maybe doing everything isn’t enough,” Krueger noted. “Maybe you only need to do one thing to get what you need from men like him.”

“What do you suggest, then?”

“Fear.” He stood up, unbuttoning his waistcoat and undoing his shirt collar. “He’s not talking because he’s not afraid of you.” He draped his waistcoat over the back of the chair, and laid his tie on top of it, fully aware of his decision to intervene. “He’s terrified of me.”

“So you want a crack at him? You’re welcome to try, but I’ve broken every bone in him I could think of. I don’t think you’re going to get very far with him.”

“Just let me work, Mr. Wells. I’ll get what you need from him.” He picked the Glock 17 he used before up off the table and placed it in his slacks. Then went to enter the room as Simon took a seat next to Khai.

The first thing Krueger noticed when he entered the room was the smell of blood. He took a look at a small table to Caruso’s right, noting a pair of pliers, a claw hammer, and a straight razor all covered in it. He looked and saw a baseball bat leaning against the table as well, and heard Caruso’s labored breathing. He made sense of what happened and walked around to Caruso’s front, putting on a pair of latex gloves and picking up a shred of fabric that was once part of the shirt Caruso wore before pulling up a chair and straddling it to face him.

Caruso was tied down to the wooden chair, slumped over and stripped down to his underwear, having fallen so far from when Krueger first laid eyes on him. He could have been mistaken for dead—motionless with growing purple blotches up and down his body and blood dripping from his nose and mouth—if not for the audible breathing. Simon likely broke some ribs, possibly punctured some organs.

“He started with the bat, didn’t he?” Krueger suggested.

“Fuck you,” Caruso croaked.

“He started with your legs. Then he worked his way up to your ribs. Judging from the bruising all around your back and shoulders, he didn’t stop there. Not for a long time at least.”

Caruso’s silence confirmed it.

“Then he went to the hammer. Probably started with your hands and then pounded at your feet. After he broke every bone he could with it, he bound them to the chair.” Krueger stood up, making his way back around behind Caruso and pulling his head back by the chin to see his face. Caruso let a quiet whimper slip out when Krueger moved his face.

“Then he moved up to the razor,” Krueger continued, looking him in the eye as he did, “cutting you again and again until what’s left would turn even the most desperate woman away. And then when he lost patience, he graduated to the pliers and started excising molars one at a time.” He pressed Caruso’s cheeks with his thumb and finger, drawing another pained groan from the man tied down. “Five, by my count.” He released Caruso. “He got lazy—I wouldn’t have stopped until after pulling the other seven.”

“What the fuck do you want, man!?” Caruso yelled.

Krueger inhaled. “To be done with this, Mr. Caruso. I don’t enjoy torture—it’s barbarous amateurism at best and sadism at worst. And pain is such an unreliable motivator. I’ve always felt excitement to be more effective.”

“You think you can tempt me with anything—?”

“Of course I can’t, I’m not a fool. But there’s another emotion that motivates people, and it’s far more effective than excitement or pain.” Krueger tied the shred of fabric around Caruso’s eyes, blindfolding him. “Fear.”

“I’m not afraid of Liz Khai’s pet hitman..!”

“No, Mr. Caruso, you are. Fear was in your eyes when I freed us both in the Red Room, and again when I cleared your office.” He returned to his original place in front of Caruso. “You looked at me with fear, and because you fear me, you did exactly as I ordered. And you’ll do as I say again.”

Once again, Caruso’s silence confirmed it.

“Now we already know you planted the microphone in Mr. Wells’ conference room phone. Just tell me why.”

Caruso lifted his head back up to face the direction from which he heard Krueger’s voice. “Fuck! You! Kraut!”

Krueger sighed. “I had hoped we could do this without resorting to violence,” he disclosed. Then he kicked Caruso in the chest, forcing him to land onto his bound, broken wrists.

He let out a high-pitched shriek unlike any he had while Simon worked on him.

Krueger drew his handgun and pulled the slide back, releasing it and chambering a round with a loud click. “Tell me, Mr. Caruso,” he began, “Do you know what that is?”

“Wha—?”

Krueger fired at the floor, landing the bullet next to Caruso’s ear, drawing a yelp from him. “How about now? Do you know what that is?”

“A gun!” he screamed. “It’s a gun!!”

“That’s right, it’s a gun. Do you know what I’m going to do if you don’t tell me what I want to know?”

“…wha-what, you’re gonna kill me?”

“Not immediately,” Krueger corrected. “I’ll shoot you low in the bowel. Your body cavity will fill with excrement, and you’ll become septic. You’ll be in so much pain that all you can do is scream and cry. You’ll beg for somebody to come and kill you. Then you’ll probably go into shock. And then you’ll die. Eventually. It might take a few days, I’ve never been able to get an exact measurement… Now,” he said, stepping over Caruso and placing the still-hot barrel on his stomach right over where his descending colon would be. “I’m going to count to three. And if you don’t tell me exactly what I and Mr. Wells want to know, I’m going to shoot you in the stomach, leave you here to die alone, and have Miss Khai get what we need from your personal records.”

Caruso began to cry quietly under Krueger. Still, he kept his mouth shut.

“Eins…”

Caruso started shifting in the chair, but bound as he was, he didn’t move a whole lot.

“Zwei…”

Caruso started whimpering audibly.

“Drei..!” Krueger pressed the Glock into Caruso’s stomach and tightened his grip, moving his finger to the trigger.

“Alright!!” Caruso couldn’t take it anymore. “Alright, I’ll talk, just stop! Stop!!”

Krueger put the handgun away and pulled the chair back onto its legs. “Start talking, then,” he ordered.

“I planted the mic, yeah. But it wasn’t mine. I was paid to do it for somebody else.”

“Heimdallr,” Krueger surmised.

“Who?”

“That’s it. Three..!” Krueger drew the gun again.

“No!!” Frantic, Caruso nearly jumped out of the chair. “I don’t know who that is! I swear on my grandma’s grave I never heard that name before!”

“Then what name have you heard?”

“Orham,” he said. “His name was Orham. I swear to you, I’ve never heard of a Hymn Dollar.”

Which meant Orham didn’t start calling himself Heimdallr until after his deal with Caruso, when he had direct access to the most closely kept secrets of one of the country’s most profitable criminal enterprises. Only afterward did he call himself all-seeing. So why try to reach Silvio after he had what he needed from the Branch? Maybe to break into the Southeast Region… or something else. Krueger wasn’t going to get anywhere by theorizing. “What is Orham after?”

“If he has some sort of grand plan,” Caruso confessed, “he didn’t share it with me. All he had me do was plant the bug. I swear to you that’s the whole truth.”

Then there was no point in continuing this conversation. “I believe you, Mr. Caruso,” Krueger said before putting the handgun down on the floor next to him. “Thank you for your cooperation.” He started for the door.

“Wait,” Caruso enquired, almost relieved, “so you’re not going to shoot me in the stomach?”

“I’m not.” Krueger confirmed. “But I can’t say for sure what Mr. Wells will do to you.” He left Caruso blindfolded in the empty interrogation room.

When Krueger returned to the observation room, he was met with a congratulatory handshake from Simon. “Well done, Krueger,” he said. “I should have had you do this from the get-go; we would have saved ourselves some time.”

“I’m a professional, Mr. Wells,” Krueger articulated, “not a monster. Consider what I just did a favor. One I won’t do again.”

“Not for free, at least,” Simon jested. He turned to Khai to include her in the conversation. “We have our man,” he said to both of them.

“But not a location.”

“My contact in Marine Park is working on that,” Khai added. “I’ll forward him what we found out just now, with the devices we’ve given him and the name we got from Caruso he should be able to give us GPS coordinates accurate to the half-mile.”

“That sounds like great news,” Simon said, “and I’m sure we’ll have more on that story as it develops.” He turned away from them and headed for the door. “Go home, you two. Get some rest and we’ll reconvene in the afternoon.” He motioned the interrogation room next door. “I still have work to do.” He shut the door behind him as he walked out the room.

Khai walked over to the speaker system on the far wall and turned it off. She decided she didn’t need to hear what would become of Danny Caruso. She looked back at Krueger, taking a few steps toward him. “You okay?” she asked.

Krueger grimaced, avoiding her eyes. “We didn’t have to force it out of him,” he said. “We could have avoided all of this.”

Khai nodded. “I understand how you feel about all of this,” she said, offering consolation with a hand placed gently on his forearm. “And I’m sorry for putting you in this position.” She stroked the skin a little with her thumb. “But it’s almost over, now. We’ll find Orham and get this whole mess cleaned up.”

A half-smile tugged at the corner of Krueger’s mouth. “And then?” He turned to look at her, and again her big brown eyes cut right through him, rendering him vulnerable in a way he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

Khai shrugged, pulling her hand back. “Then it’s back to business as usual,” she said. “I go back to Branch management and you…” She looked away from him briefly, then reclaimed his eyes. “You take the next job from the next client.”

“That’s a shame,” Krueger noted. “I rather liked working with you.” His eyes lingered on her lips for a moment before he looked back up at her face—a face framed perfectly by her black wavy hair. He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Good night, Miss Khai.” He turned to retrieve his bloody clothes from the chair and headed for the door.

 The following afternoon—Monday—Krueger sat in the waiting area in front of Simon Well’s conference room. He noted the new placement of surveillance cameras to cover the blind spot he found the other day and smirked as he finished his water.

The receptionist behind the desk answered her ringing phone, listened to the voice on the other end, and placed it back in the cradle. “Mr. Krueger?” she said.

Krueger raised his brow to acknowledge her.

“Miss Khai and Mr. Wells are ready for you now.”

“Perfect,” he said. “Thank you.”

Krueger stood up, taking his water with him to conference room where Khai and Simon already sat. Simon wore a pale gray suit with a deep purple shirt and brown loafers; Khai wore a conservative navy suit and pale gray blouse with black pumps. Krueger, dressed in a dark gray crew neck sweater and khaki slacks with black lace-up shoes didn’t feel underdressed.

“There he is,” Simon said, gesturing him from behind his desk. “The man of the hour..! Tell him the good news, Khai.”

She turned in her chair to face him. “We found him,” she said. “Miles Orham: information dealer. For the past decade, he’s made a living selling secrets to small-scale criminal organizations. He moved up in the world when he started doing business for the Company, and after his deal with Caruso to spy on Mr. Wells, he began calling himself Heimdallr, the all-seeing.”

“But he got careless,” Simon added. “Greedy, even; either way he couldn’t cover his tracks in time. Now we got the son of a bitch.”

Krueger hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “Where is Orham now?”

“Currently, he operates out of a self-sustaining cabin in the woods off of Interstate-81. Northeast Pennsylvania. We can’t expect him to stay there for long, though. Not with everything that’s happened as of late, so we have to move in as soon as possible.”

“Rules of engagement?”

Simon put his hands together. “Scorched Earth, Krueger,” he said. “I mean it, full Dresden. Nothing left.”

Krueger shifted a little. “With respect, sir, I have to disagree.”

“Say again?”

“I suggest we retrieve what information we can before destroying everything. It may be useful to you.”

“I’m with Krueger on this one,” Khai added. “That place is a potential goldmine, especially if he’s been dealing with so many operations. Think of the leverage you’d have on every independent crook and gangster he’s ever dealt with. That information could be instrumental in folding them into our operations.”

After a brief pause, Simon smiled and chuckled. “That’s why I pay you two the big bucks!” he laughed. “I love it—you two get in and recover the data. After that, do what you want with Orham. Fold him in or take him out, I guess it doesn’t really matter in the end.”

Krueger arched his brow. “Two?”

“That’s right,” Khai said. “I’ll be with you on this one. We’ve acquired a state-of-the-art reconnaissance drone from some associates in high places. I’ll be able to give you visual support for this operation.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Krueger said, hiding his excitement. “When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow morning. There’s more good news,” Khai said with a grin. “The order from Heckler & Koch arrives tonight. You’ll have your weapons for this assignment.”

“That is good news, Miss Khai. I look forward to working with you in the field.” He looked back at Simon. “Is there anything else you need from me today?”

“No,” he said, swiveling in his chair. “I think that about covers it.”

“Then I’ll take my leave,” he said with a nod. He turned and headed for the door.

“Rest well, Specialist Krueger,” Khai said. She then excused herself shortly afterward to return to her office and review the information one more time. For as long as she worked with the Branch, Khai had never actually been out in the field, and she needed to ensure everything ran smoothly.

(Next Chapter | Masterlist)

[griffinpxut452-blog]

10 Secrets About cmcpoker You Can Learn From TV

Which is not a shabby advertising and marketing tactic for Realtors either. Nevertheless, I am referring to getting a continuing stream of customer referrals from industry experts like CPA's, mortgage brokers, economical planners, attorneys and contractors. The best part is that it'll only require a individualized letter scripted by you, the coolest Realtor in the neighbourhood.

In brief, this referral letter advertising and marketing technique comes down this: Get your self a powerful listing of nicely-assumed-of professionals which have been most certainly to provide the exact variety of clientele that you'll sustain. Then you just jot down a private letter that in truth shows off who you happen to be and ship it to this checklist within the frequent mail (no electronic mail).

Make an effort to be creative with regards to the mailing bundle or envelope you make the most of as well as which includes a novel internet marketing piece with your letter. Adhere to up with Each individual Experienced by telephone, if possible, and move forward to mail/Make contact with them the moment a month.

You'd be amazed the number of thriving Realtors use this marketing plan for their total careers, essentially eliminating advertising expenses to acquire clientele.

Let us start off by using a sample listing of these industry experts that have the shoppers you're looking for...

- CPA's

- Residence Loan Consultants (I am selected you acknowledge this a person)

- Financial Planners and Advisors

- Real Estate Lawyers

- Transforming Contractors/Handymen

- Real-estate Appraisers

- Escrow Officers

- Household Electricians

- Plumbers (residential)

- Landscapers

- Tree Service Organizations

- Handymen

- Receive the notion?...

Naturally, there are numerous much more gurus so as to add towards the listing but that'll Have you ever heading for today.

Are you presently wanting to know how to get the information for these experts so you might mail them your letter? Fantastic concern, happy you asked. You have a pair of options Nevertheless they count on your advertising and marketing funds.

A person alternative would be to take a look at the yellow pages on-line. It's essential to have already got a geographical region you persist with so you will need to remain inside of that location, In most cases. If you don't intellect the handbook labor, this can be a nifty choice for you.

You will sift by means of to get the comprehensive name, cell phone number and mailing deal with of every Experienced. Like I mentioned, this may get a bit of time nevertheless it's cost-free.

Only purchasing a summary of these professionals might be your other alternate. From the indentical way you happen to be almost certainly on one or more Realtor or agent lists being sold available, nearly each occupation has their own personal listing on the market also.

Unwind, most of these lists are not illegal or unethical. These kind of Qualified lists are on the market for the reason that gurus (like us Realtors or agents) deliberately sign up for lots of publications, companies, occasions, etc.

It truly is a watch opener, is not ir?

You've got a lot more than respectable possibilities In relation to buying a listing organization to purchase your listing from. Make an work to pick an inventory organization that has each of the professions you're looking for, as an alternative to likely to different list firms for every job. I tell you, It's going to cost you a handful of pounds for this list but it is going to salvage you several hours of valued time!

Even so you select to acquire your listing of industry experts, upon getting it, it is time to kickoff creating your "individualized" letter. I can't depth how to write down income copy listed here, regrettably. That is a topic all by alone.

All you have to comprehend at this time is this letter can't be "salesy" similar to a letter you would mail on your farm listing of homeowners.

When among the list of pros on your own list will get your letter, you desire them to truly feel as when they're the only one who gained it, even if you may possibly replicate it and mail it to the remainder of your record.

Ponder regarding how you'd chat to these pros confront-to-experience and pen your letter in this way, that is the grand strategy listed here. Usually do not be like your neighborhood bank and jot down some sort of "this is so boring I could vomit" referral marketing letter. Speak to them just like a sincere specific and capture their desire.

By the way, this "personalization" goes for nearly all your advertising parts: postcards, flyers, ads, emails, etc.

The crux of one's letter absolutely need to set in plain phrases that you simply'd wish to begin a mutually useful, Experienced relationship with them (but Categorical it in a personal way, certainly). The large plan is for you to turn into these professionals "Realtor on-need", so to talk, and get all their shopper referrals For the remainder of your profession. You may need to emphasize how they will gain from this romantic relationship devoid of undertaking any selling, acquired it?

If you already know anything own regarding their enterprise or the region they perform in, toss it from the letter. Perhaps you Individually know of the customer who's utilised that cmcpoker.win Expert, toss that while in the letter also. It truly is hard to get "extremely" own in these letters Except if you decide to blab with regards to their momma, which I wouldn't recommend.

I would strongly recommend that you choose to pen your referral letter by yourself, instead of retain the services of anybody else to make it happen. But, should you absolutely detest penning this kind of marketing letter, your other alternate is to get maintain of a good independent author to get it done.

Do a Google seek for "self-employed writers" And you will find a variety of companies to pick from. With several with the web pages you'll find, you can pick self-used writers from all around the world, which can be pretty useful. You can see evaluations on them, come across whatever they're charging for prices, access them to talk to issues, and so forth. On quite a few sites, you are able to article an opening for that undertaking you require published and possess self-employed writers utilize to you. It is very fantastic.

Okay, so now that you've your advertising listing and referral letter prepared, it's time to send out it out. But make sure you Will not just mail it inside of a plain white envelope comparable to everyone else... make sure you!

In its place, seize a unique on the lookout envelope which has some exceptional dimensions or colour to it. The theory is you want your mailing piece to get noticed among the just about every other letter that Skilled is receiving that working day. Remember, hand-penning the return address and mailing address can help to Get the envelope or box opened and never thrown from the trash.

Simply Imagine how you opened your mail right now. The letters that appear to be hand-created get opened very first, proper?

A reward you'll be wanting to incorporate, in the package deal, is some type of marketing piece In combination with your referral letter. One advertising and marketing thought can be to put with each other a movie with Animoto, burn off it on the DVD and mail it with your letter.

Amongst my mates, a everyday living insurance plan salesman, despatched out an analogous mailing and incorporated poker chips with his contact info on them. This buddy of mine printed "Do not gamble together with your lifetime" on all of the poker chips.

Genius! That's the type of Artistic believed you need to be able to adhere out from your Level of competition, or at the very least you need to know wherever to get the Strategies!

By the way, With this referral letter, I would information them towards your internet site and phone number. Be certain you present them both equally decisions. Selected Men and women would rather get in touch with you and others prefer to glance around your internet site initial.

This last phase might be the most important. The number 1 rule in advertising is "repetition". Studies in the advertising and marketing earth have tested that to ensure that the general public to receive acquainted plenty of and response to an ad or internet marketing piece, they need to see or listen to it 7 times or more.

Adhering to up using this advertising and marketing listing of industry experts is important to getting the best response fee that you can. Subsequent up Using these gurus with another letter or even a telephone get in touch with each 4 months or so would be my recommendation. For those who have it, using an expert's e-mail address can be an honest observe up too.

You merely must be extra careful not to smother them with comply with-ups. It's a good line but you might want to notify them why you should be their "go-to" Realtor without discovering in a rude or bothersome style.

Rapid idea For those who have the advertising revenue: employ a school child to procedure each one of these mailers and preserve by yourself enough time. You could publish the referral letters yourself but have your hired-hand tackle the envelope, things it Along with the letter and internet marketing piece and possess them mail it out.

It's low-cost labor, similar to US providers do every time they seek the services of abroad personnel for their customer support get in touch with centers (did I just drop in a cheap shot?).

Base line, I basically Assume this is without doubt one of the far better marketing and advertising ideas for Realtors or brokers on the market. Finally, this marketing system can give you a cost-free circulation of prospects and prospective buyers that can Create you right into a best manufacturing Realtor or agent, so long as you stay with it and variety these referral associations proper.

Okay, many of us have noticed videos or Television shows in which counterfeiters throw revenue into significant dryers with poker chips or dice or Various other things for making the payments surface to are out in circulation when in truth they've just been printed. Very well, this has nothing to perform with revenue laundering Hence the three levels of money laundering are certainly not:

one) Gentle cycle – No bleach

2) Tumble Dry on Minimal Heat

three) No Starch

And don't confuse phases with actions or transactions. Productive income laundering, especially in large dollar amounts, is far much more than one-2-3 finished. Although some transactions can be quite uncomplicated, Other people are complicated and just take A great deal time and effort in an effort to stay clear of detection – and that's the last word objective – to stop detection. It would not do the felony any excellent to move and alter money if it can be quickly traced (and after that seized). And it is a activity where the applications and techniques are consistently transforming and evolving.

The Fiscal Motion Undertaking Drive, FATF for short, would be the multinational entire body that sets the global tone for AML efforts. Formed in 1989, it can be situated in Paris.The Money Action Process Drive (FATF) has A 3-element Operating definition. Just about every element in essence outlined one of the levels:

PLACEMENT – introducing the illicit funds in to the fiscal cycle. Even though the cash previously have been inside of a lender or brokerage account (as in circumstances of embezzlement or frauds), it is the fact that initial step as illicit cash that we are going to check out as placement. However, the most common illustration of placement may be the drug vendor who needs to get significant portions of more compact currency expenditures to the banking procedure.

LAYERING – the going and transferring from the resources in order to disguise the origins and genuine possession of The cash. This stage is usually The key and one of the most hard – it really separates the pros within the amateurs. Here the money can alter accounts, form, possession, state, and many others. It could go into and outside of trusts and shell companies, it should buy or offer real estate or tough goods, it could go through diverse jurisdictions – anything to confuse or remove a paper trail. And finally, You can find

INTEGRATION – This is certainly if the criminal requires economic advantage of the illicit resources and they appear to have come from legit sources. It's possible the drug supplier purchases a mansion, or a high end car, or a yacht, or even planes to maneuver drugs together with other dollars (in the situation on the planes, they will very likely be purchased through a front or shell leasing firm, who will lease it into a front or shell freight corporation, in order that any time a airplane is in the end impounded by legislation enforcement someplace, it cannot be traced again into the vendor).

So there These are, the 3 phases of cash laundering: Placement, Layering, Integration.

[rorykillmore]

BELATED BIRTHDAY FIC FOR @ravenswood. may has been an anxiety-ridden disaster for me and i’ve just started crawling out of a writing slump BUT IT’S FINALLY HERE. she requested a god squad fic and i kind of... ran with that in the wackiest way possible and threw them in with the future hypothetical denny!guardians.

enjoy this little glimpse of their space roadtrip?? i had to narrow the focus on the main thematic elements since there were so many little tangent interactions i could have gone off on but hopefully you enjoy what i decided to do with it.

happy late birthday friend!! hope this improves your night as you are constantly improving my life <3

Family, in Heather’s mind, has always been ill-defined and hard to grasp. Once it had been a mother who’d hated and hated, no matter how hard Heather (not Heather, then) had tried to be good enough to love.  Once it had been paintings other kids had drawn, mothers and fathers and siblings all with smiles on their faces, and a little brown dog and a white picket fence.  

Later it had been something else. Not as whole and perfect as she’d imagined in some of her fantastical dreams (the kind that never came to life), but somehow managing to be happy. Worth holding onto (until she couldn’t any longer). A dad who had ruffled her hair and bandaged her scraped knees and told her he’d loved her in a way she knew he meant.

He’s gone now. Heather remembers thinking, once she actually had the capacity to think -- well, this is it. It was nice while it lasted. I’m glad I had it for awhile.

Probably never again, though. 

She’s already decided to keep moving forward, out of spite if nothing else.

‘Moving forward’, it turns out, isn’t as inspirational as it sounds. It’s a vague thing people say when they don’t want to brood about something forever (which, fair enough). It’s misleading, in Heather’s opinion. ‘Moving forward’ makes it sound like there’s only one direction to go in, when in reality, there are about a thousand -- each as wild and unpredictable as the next.

And she’s not sure it gets much more unpredictable than ‘stuck in a parallel dimension, palling around with an anthropomorphic fox and a paranormal investigator and his psychic wife’.

“Did you pack toothpaste?” Volle calls back to her, and Heather’s lips twitch.

Not that she’s complaining, really.

“Got it covered!” she calls back, then glances at Ed where he’s walking alongside her.  “Can you even use toothpaste in space?”

Ed gives her a baffled, goodnatured shrug. “Don’t look at me. I’m from not even ten years after the first moon landing, you know.”

This, Heather has decided, is wilder than anything that’s happened to them so far. And that’s saying something.

Just ahead of them looms the Milano. An actual spaceship! It belongs to someone calling himself Starlord, apparently, although Heather still isn’t entirely sure... who he is or how they’re supposed to know him.

Apparently Ed is friends with a banshee and a talking raccoon, both of which are facts which should not surprise her in the slightest. Now, the fact that said banshee and raccoon have fallen in with a group of space travelers -- who apparently need their help? That’s enough to jar her, a little (not that she’s not making every effort not to appear jarred -- or excited). And she’d thought she’d gotten used to this place.

“God, you’re so old,” she tells Ed with a playful roll of her eyes, and he looks mockingly offended. “So... where are we going, again?”

It’s Lorraine who answers her from Ed’s other side, soft and thoughtful, like absolutely none of this is bizarre in the slightest.  “Apparently there’s a governing party experiencing some pretty nasty hauntings in the... Andromeda galaxy.” Her brow furrows slightly, and Heather mirrors her expression. The Andromeda galaxy. Isn’t that kind of far away?

Maybe not for a futuristic spaceship, she concedes silently.

“Great. So we’re looking at space ghosts.” If she asks how different they could be from Earth ghosts, she’ll probably jinx it. “Why not, right?”

“It would be cruel to turn them away if there’s something we can do to help,” Volle points out as they finally catch up with him. He flicks an ear towards the ship, which is now looming directly overhead. “Although, I must admit I’m... entirely unfamiliar with vessels of this nature.”

“You aren’t the only one, if that makes you feel any better,” Ed notes wryly.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared.” This is a new voice.  Heather turns to see...

Yep, that’s the talking raccoon.

All... three feet of him, or so.

Waiting for them just inside the ship.

“C’mon. You know the odds of dyin’ in one of these are actually lower than dyin’ in a traffic accident.” A pause follows that statement. Then a snicker. “I completely pulled that out of my ass.”

Heather turns in unison with Volle to stare at Ed, just kind of -- seriously? These are your other friends? Lorraine, however, keeps a straight face.

“Hello, Rocket,” she greets him pleasantly.

Rocket twitches his ears at her. “Yeah. Hey. These your tagalongs?” His gaze falls on Heather and Volle. Heather opens her mouth to say something in retort, but Lorraine beats him to it.

“Yes. Heather Mason and Lord Vinton, respectively.” 

Volle’s title seems to vaguely piss Rocket off, because he stares directly at him. “And what the hell are you supposed to be?”

Heather tries to hide a smirk at Volle’s bemused expression.  “Er. Delighted to meet you,” he answers, his tone bordering on questioning. Rocket grunts at that, unamused by the quip but unable or unwilling to come up with a response, and turns around.

“You assholes are late enough as it is. C’mon, we’re about to take off,” he tells them, leading the way into the depths of the ship without looking back. Out of the corner of her eye, Heather catches Ed and Lorraine exchanging amused look, as if they’ve never been referred to as ‘you assholes’ in their lives (well -- maybe not to their faces, she thinks playfully).

Predictably, Volle takes point. She’s noticed that he likes to do that, when braving a new situation -- though depending on the danger level present, Ed sometimes beats him to it. For Heather’s own part, she’s usually content to hang in the back and watch the chaos unfold. She figures she’s earned it.

But with surprisingly little fanfare, considering they’re walking onto a fucking spaceship, they file on board -- Volle, then Ed and Lorraine walking arm and arm (ugh), then Heather herself bringing up the near. By sheer principle of teenage apathy combined with the fact that Rocket doesn’t strike her as the type to need an ego boost, she tries not to look too impressed.

But... alright. It is pretty cool.

“Hope this thing has seatbelts,” Ed jokes goodnaturedly, and Heather rolls her eyes with an unmistakable tinge of affection. If this is going to happen, she supposes, she couldn’t have picked a better group of losers to come along for the ride.

Within the first several hours, the group of losers expands considerably.

Heather, for one, has absolutely no idea how either Ed or Lorraine managed to become friends with someone like Siobhan Smythe, but it’s happened. It’s a thing. When she’s not trading insults with the other Guardians, she occasionally drops by to hang out with them (well, not them -- just Ed and Lorraine, basically, when they’re being subtle enough about their heterosexuality for them to tolerate).

The captain’s name is Peter Quill, and he and Ed share a disturbingly similar taste in music (Heather needs them to be separated, like, yesterday).  Lorraine gets on startlingly well with Gamora (who, even on a good day, looks like she’d happily kill a man -- exactly the sort of person Lorraine always wins over), and Volle seems to be having a little too much fun with Drax.

For her own part, she likes to flit around -- she’s cautious of getting too buddy-buddy with any of her new shipmates (caution, she’s found, is one of the hardest things to unlearn), but Rocket is easy enough to banter with. Every so often, Quill manages to remind her of Harry (they both share an affinity for the same weird A-ha song), and Mantis fascinates her in a way she can’t quite admit. She sees her and Lorraine talking, every now and again, and always finds herself tempted to go and join them.

She hasn’t, just yet.

“You know the worst thing to come of all of this,” Volle says to her one day with a mischievous swish of his tail. “Is that it seems you may have to endure the presence of a new baby brother.”

Heather follows his gaze to where Groot is toddling out to meet the Warrens with an eager familiarity that’s been accumulated over the initial duration of their trip. Both Ed and Lorraine are looking suspiciously misty-eyed.

Heather rolls her eyes, trying not to be phased by his fazing. “They can adopt all the kids they want, but I think Rocket has dibs on that one. Besides, I’m a little too old for that kind of thing.”

Volle gives her a lengthy, sideways look, but doesn’t say anything. Heather decides not to linger on it.

She tries not to, anyway.

“Hey, guys?” The next evening (she assumes it’s evening, at least) Quill pokes his head into their cabin. “We’re gonna be landing in a few hours, so uh. Make sure you like... rest up, or whatever. Not to sound too much like a dad.”

He’s probably one of the people least at risk for that here, Heather reflects dryly, but she shrugs and sets down her hand of cards. Across from her, Volle and Rocket do the same.

“Well, guess I’m out.” Rocket gets to his feet and shoots a smug look at Volle. “Wouldn’t wanna tread on the royal curfew. I was winning, anyway.”

Volle looks at him, straight-faced. “I’ll consider myself spared.”

Rocket chooses not to acknowledge the teasing sarcasm edging that statement, turning for the door. Heather catches Lorraine hiding a smile behind the book she’s reading.

“Where’s Ed?” Heather asks, starting to clean up.

“I think he just went to stretch his legs.” Lorraine glances at her briefly. “I’m sure he’ll be back before too long. Even Ed’s okay at keeping a decent sleep schedule, when it really counts.”

Yeah, Heather thinks dryly, when you’re around. That little quip goes unsaid, though -- however she might joke about it inwardly, she’d never betray any of the quiet vulnerabilities that manifested in Ed during the period of time when Lorraine wasn’t around. It’s not a trust thing -- she just gets the feeling Ed wouldn’t want her to.

 “Maybe I’ll go track him down,” she says aloud, rising to her feet. Lorraine smiles at her.  

“Good idea. Tell him if he takes too long, I’m coming out there.”

“Is that supposed to be a deterrent?” asks Volle wryly, and Heather snorts, turning for the door and leaving them to their playful banter.

Not that they’ve been traveling on it for a comparatively long time, but she doesn’t think she’s ever seen the Milano so quiet. It’s a rare event that everyone’s sleeping patterns align that perfectly, but Heather guesses that if the others aren’t all asleep, they’ve stowed away to make final preparations for their landing.

She finds Ed in the bridge, of all places, hands in his pockets.

“Thank god Quill left his ship in the hands of such an experienced pilot,” she quips, announcing herself. Ed only looks slightly startled as he turns to face her, giving her a smile that mirrors Lorraine’s in warmth and affection (did they practice that together, Heather occasionally wonders, or are they just naturally like that?).

“They send you out looking for me?” he guesses.

She shrugs teasingly. “I decided on my own that you were taking too long.” It turns her a chuckle.

“I was just -- watching the stars, for awhile,” he explains, gesturing. “It might sound cheesy, but it’s easy to get lost in thought up here.”

Pretty much everything Ed ever says sounds cheesy, but Heather neglects to point that out less out of tact and more because she’s worried she’ll make it sound too fond. “It’s not often that it’s quiet enough to, either,” she points out instead.

“Very true.”

There’s a pause. She hesitates.  “Seriously, though, if you wanna be alone, I can --”

“Oh -- no, don’t worry about it.”  Ed sounds genuine enough that Heather relaxes. “I didn’t come up here to brood, I promise. Just to think.”

She smiles a little at the goodnatured edge to his tone, and slowly steps up alongside him. She can see how easy it would be to get lost in those stars. They’re infinite in a way that’s more than a little daunting. “What were you... thinking about?”

There’s a short pause before he answers. “Honestly? That I never expected my life would turn out like this.”  He glances at her, smiling still.  “Pretty crazy, huh?”

“Even by our standards,” Heather grumbles in agreement, and then finds herself hesitating. “I know that, uh. You and Lorraine left a lot behind. ...Must be hard.”

“I can’t really imagine it’s easy for most people,” Ed replies, and Heather doesn’t tell him how little she had to leave.  She watches as his expression softens.  “But, y’know, we’ve found a lot too.”

She finds she doesn’t really know what to say to that. She folds her arms.  “Quite a ragtag crew you’ve assembled. Rocket and Siobhan are even weirder than we are, and that’s saying something.”  When that gets a proper laugh out of him, she can’t help but smile.

“Yeah,” Ed agrees amicably. “Yeah, I... honestly still can’t quite tell you how that one happened.”

They both fall silent for a moment, reflecting. It’s a good question. How did any of this happen?

She doesn’t have to question whether or not she’s glad it did.

“Sometimes I,” she starts, voice faltering uncharacteristically. Ed waits patiently for her to finish. “Sometimes I’m... scared. Of holding on to something else.”

She doesn’t explain what she means. He doesn’t ask.

After a moment, though, she feels a gentle hand on her shoulder. “We’re not going anywhere,” he tells her, empathetic as ever. “Not if we can help it, anyway. Wait until you’re ready.”

Something in her chest tightens, and she nods.

When they finally land, Heather’s pretty sure no one’s even worried about the space ghosts anymore -- those of them who aren’t used to space travel, at least, are just happy to hit solid ground and fresh air again.

“So what’s the plan, here?” Rocket asks, flicking his ears as he glances back at them. Heather almost doesn’t hear him, briefly distracted by the vibrant colors they’re suddenly surrounded by, the distinctly alien city looming in the distance. Realizing he’s looking to the Warrens for an answer, though, she casts an expectant glance their way. They’re keeping close to each other, fingers entwined -- Lorraine murmuring something unintelligible in Ed’s ear as they gaze out at the scene stretching before them.

Siobhan clears her throat very pointedly.  “Can you punch a space ghost?” she calls.

“That is a question I would like answered, as well,” Drax puts in grimly. He frowns at the look Gamora gives him.  “It would make things much simpler. Rocket says that these people whisper to ghosts. I do not see how such dulcet tones --”

He breaks off as Rocket starts snickering, and Lorraine looks over.

“Oh -- no, Drax. That’s not quite how it works.” She pauses, and she and Ed reluctantly disentwine. Heather can practically feel everyone present breathing an inward sigh of relief. 

“Before we even think about talking to any spirits, we’ll need to speak with the people experiencing the hauntings,” Ed puts in. “Considering that we’re also gonna need to pick up a bit of culture here, that may be a more... thorough process than usual.”

“I am Groot!”

Rocket wrinkles his nose. “What do you mean, snakes began manifesting in your house physically? When did we see any snakes?” 

Heather hurriedly looks away, deciding now isn’t a good time to extrapolate on Groot’s introduction to Youtube. “So, we should... plan to stay here a little while, then.”

“Not too long,” Ed promises, glancing around at the group. “Maybe a couple more days, though. Can we all spare that much?”

“No one has made any effort to engage me socially!” Mantis chirps. There’s an awkward pause, and Heather hears Siobhan murmur ‘shocker’.  Mantis hesitates, and then amends slightly, “Recently, I mean. I can stay as long as you would like.”

“We’ve all cleared our schedules,” Peter confirms.

“We’d always planned for a week or so away from home, anyway.” Volle gives them an easy smile.  “I’m sure we won’t be missed.”

It seems to be settled. Today, Heather reflects, this is what moving forward looks like. Parading off onto an unknown planet to face off against supernatural, extraterrestrial entities with a bunch of space misfits.

She can’t believe she thought her life was weird before.

But as she falls into her usual place beside Volle, this time walking just a little ways ahead of Ed and Lorraine (let them hold hands in peace, they’ve mutually decided), she can’t help but begin to feel content.

I love you, Dad,  she thinks, heartfelt and aching and resolved.  I wish you were here.

She’ll always hold onto that. To him.

But he’d be proud of her for wanting to reach out and hold on to something else.

[masaru2042]

The Blitzardi

I’ve been asked about these guys a couple times here.

The species is called Kethosi they hail from the planet Kethoi...(the planet in the background). The planet is mostly a desert, but unlike places like Dune or Tatooine, Kethoi isn't defined by one climate feature. In some places, there are green areas, and snow, but not much. Kethoi was once a lush planet and it was very Earth...with various climes like tundras, temperate areas, deserts, tropics, and polar ice caps. But the Kethosi screwed the planet up with their constant need to advance their technology (kinda like what we're doing to Earth). So, what's left is a very dry, arid planet with little water and a thin atmosphere. The Kethosi have since then mostly gone to live underground on their home planet or left to other worlds. The core of the planet has been hollowed out and turned into a miniature Dyson Sphere complete with a small star.

Because of the climate of Kethoi, in the atmosphere, there are millions of spheres which control the weather and help filter the oxygen. Kethoi is often called the "Red Planet" because of its russet colored deserts.

Kethoi has two moons and a ring. One of its moons...Bathoin, is artificial. (Bathoin is the pitted rust-colored moon with the lights on its surface.) Bathoin is actually a super weapon used in protecting the planet from anywhere from invasion or possible meteor impacts. The ring is also artificial housing trillions upon trillions of satellites which monitor the space around Kethoi.

The Kethosi are divided up into various sub-species or races. Like humans on Earth, each race has its own skin color. And also like Humans, Kethosi share a common feature, lupine-like head, pointed furry ears, horns, and manes, draconic-like tails, claws, and scales. They are digigraded, meaning they walk on their toes like birds or velociraptors, instead of walking on flat fleet like plantigraded creatures such as bears and humans. The digigrade gives these aliens incredible speed and agility as well as tremendous abilities in jumping. They also can breathe fire. Their blood is deep blue which alludes to a cobalt base. Growing from their lips like an Eastern Dragon, is a pair of fleshy whiskers. Most Kethosi have wings, except for the Umikao, which do not.

This picture is of a Blizardi Kethosi, who are the ruling race of the Kethosi. Blitzardi are very militaristic, considering themselves as honorable warriors and proud fighters. Their technological advances have mostly been focused on weapons and battle vehicles. Their starships are capable of faster than light travel and even have the ability to swiftly phase through dimensions.

Blitzardi have unique powers to their own race. They can channel electrical currents through their body. They are considered "Perfect Shapeshifters" meaning they can take on the form of anything they see including inanimate objects. Their shapeshifting ability stems down to the molecular level which makes them excellent spies. They can mimic any sound they come across no matter how complex. Blitzardi are also natural teleporters. They also have the ability to control electromagnetism. They can repel their bodies from any surface which helps in their flying. They also can attach themselves to any surface and can even wall upright on walls and ceilings. This understanding of controlling electromagnetic energy is also reflected in their advanced technology. All of these abilities stem from psionic mental control. Though they can do these tricks, it must be taught in schools how to do them. The military is drilled in these abilities and are taught how a special martial arts using these powers. The martial arts seem to give them the ability to phase from one place to another which gives them a ghostly appearance when they fight. They are proficient in hand to hand combat as well as weapons combat.

Bltizardi have sort of a gold or copper coloring to their scales, with manes ranging from chestnut brown to deep black. As a Blitzardi ages, the hair will turn either gray or white. Some have just gray or white streaks. The Aristocracy will wear their hair long, bound in tails with ornate hair ties. Commoners often will just wear their hair short, usually half way down their backs or down to their hips. (The Aristocracy often wear the mane much longer to their knees or sometimes to their ankles regardless of gender. Both male and female generally wear the same hair styles among the aristocrats.) Warriors, (regardless of rank) dread up their hair and depending on their rank and status in the Kethosian armada, may wear ornate beads in their dreadlocks (much like the image you see above.) When angered, a Blitzardi's horns will spark up with electricity. Their tails have two bony prongs that are polarized (one slightly smaller than the other like a plug) and they can shoot their electricity out of these prongs or through their fingers. This makes many who encounter the Blitzardi think they are made of living lightning.

Castes is divided in feudal standards. The highest ruler is the Emperor. (Currently an Emperor rules the Empire, which the Blitzardi have conquered that contain other extraterrestrial creatures from other planets.) Only the Nobility or aristocrats can carry the Energy Staff. Other warriors carry plasma based weapons such as disrupters and blasters or cannons. Rank is determined by uniform insignia for the naval and air force branches and armor color for the marine and army branches. Their Air Force and Army are planet bound defenders while their Navy and Marines are more mobile for use of conquering other planets. The Marines and Army branches also have personal body shields.

Blitzardi clothing is highly decorative and has a slight Asian look to it. Like the traditional clothes of Japan, the traditional costumes of the Blitzardi are layered over one another. The aristocracy and nobility will wear badges hung on rectangular tags which denotes their status and family crest. (But what you see up in the image is what a warrior looks like fully armored.)

Because of the controlling way of the Blitzardi, their culture is often pressed into the other Kethosian races. Other Kethosi like the Lengodo or the Auri will wear similar attire and similar hair styles to show their submission to the Blitzardi ruling party. The only race that defies these cultural standards are the Khazabi who would wear costumes from other cultures and will wear their manes much shorter. (I'll get into the other races later.)

The Kethosi are an original alien race that I have created. I did think about if I were to write Halo: Andromeda, these were the aliens that Telek would meet up. Writing Andromeda would allow me to introduce people to the Kethosi, especially the Blitzardi since they're the main bad guys of the story and it allows me to introduce other original alien races that I have created along with the Kethosi for Telek and his mix-matched crew of Sangheili and Humans to meet or fight against. The only good Blitzardi that Telek meets in the story premise is Grand Duke Xi Kedzuel Draconis, who is leading a resistance of other Kethosi and various other aliens species from the Kethosian Empire against his arrogant and ruthless uncle Emperor Cerinath Khan Draconis. The idea would be that Telek finds out that Khan has President Kiryuu, the Chief, and Cortana as prisoners. The Kethosians in this story originally were allies with the Forerunners and were technologically on par with them. However, since 40,000 years had passed since the Forerunners disappeared, the Kethosians have advanced much in their technology and so they are now technologically more advanced than the Forerunners. They would be considered by the Covenant and the Forerunners as a Tier 0 technological species, capable of transcending beyond their own galaxy and even shifting through dimensions. Because of how very few planets capable of bearing life in Andromeda, the Kethosian empire nearly encompasses the entire galaxy. It is huge!

The original story though of Kedzuel did not involve Telek, but instead talked about how he and his allies like the Khazabi Selena Myles, the Lengodo Mejellon Yeuthfaesa, and Cryu-Ir Xaena Hilthan against Khan with the ending of course Kedzuel taking over the empire as Emperor and pretty much reformatting much of the long centuries of harsh Blitzardi rule and allowing the other planets to have a say on what happens in the empire. The story also involves Earth how Khan would often use Earth and its species for scientific experiments which then creates things such as the various mythological creatures we have--like dragons, werewolves, witches, demons, goblins, that sort of thing. They were failed mutations Khan's evil scientists had done. One of the things though was that because the Kethosians could breathe fire, the humans often called them dragons. Blitzardi were called Lightning Dragons or Electric Dragons (Electric Dragons became a more common term for the Blitzardi in the late 20th Century and early 21st Century Earth), the Khazabi were called Fire Dragons or just simply the Drakes, Lengodo were called Green Dragons, Umikao were called Sea Dragons, Auri were called Gold Dragons, and the Cryu-Ir were called White Dragons or Ice Dragons. But these were names given to the Kethosi by humans.