#so many newspapers and translations and tabs... ALL THE TABS

[grimoirguestbook]

Book of Bill Website Codes

(Organized by category with notes)

Here's my list of inputs that work on the website :)

Hopefully the read more works like I think it does and I don't accidentally spoil anybody

That being said by clicking read more you will see All of the codes I have found so far

Please be mindful and try not to spoil anybody else with this information. So please be careful if reblogging

I got everything I have collected/found on here, it's a bit messy right now but After I take a small break I'll reorganize and add notes but for now everything's on here, please so check out the posts linked in the log as once I lost all leads I looked to their post for other inputs :)

Also feel free to put any you know of that Aren't on here in the replies I'm sure there's some missing

I will be updating as I find more so check back in if you can! :)

Thank you!

They'll be categorized by

Neat Tv text- Nothing special the tv just gets some text to it

Tab pages-brings you to another tab/website

Audio/video- Audio/video clip plays

Readables- A picture will pop up on screen that you can read

Printables- You can print them :D!

Other- Hard to categorize

Note:

If an * is next to a name that means that you can get different results for the same prompt

(Any personal notes will be in parenthesis)

-> An arrow means that the Passwords are found in the previous page

ex- Page with code that translates to "dork"-> Dork

Slashes/mean/that/any/of/the/prompts/listed/will/take/you/to/the/same/page

Blue text with an underline is a link! Haha! would you look at that! it works!

Will Keep this updated as I find more and will Note the logs at the end of this post

?????

For the mason page anagrams I know WHO they are I just don't know WHAT to do with them, i know it says cryptogram codex at the bottom i think i have to do something with the anagram results but I'm unsure what that is. Stanford Pines Stanlie Pines Gideon Charles Gleeful Preston Northwest Pacifica Elisa Northwest

Notes to Dipper Prompt: (Unsure why- Maybe going to Blind eye page and blurring it but changes from dipper being told to stare at the sun to "I THINK ITS WORKING! STARE HARDER! HARDER!" and the page looking burnt I Think it has to do with how many input codes you enter, It now says "you've almost solved it" and is even more burnt than before, it is now full black)

Neat Tv text-

Pines

Blendin

*Triangle

Axolotl

Ducktective

Book of Bill

TJ Eckleburg (Great Gatsby)

Nothing

Something

*Ciphertology

Deer Teeth

Scalene

Scrimbles

No

Fortnite/skibidi/ohio/rizz/crypto/elon/gyatt/Doge

Life

Death

Portal

Question

Answer

Euclid

*Well Well Well Being

Reality

The Universe

Journal 1

Journal 2

Journal 3

Theyll see/They'll all see/I see

Filbrick

Disney/Disneyland/Mickey Mouse

CIA/FBI/NSA

333 Sundapple Lane Cozy Creek IL 60714-94611

Season 3

Season 2

Season 1

Caryn

Euclydia

Skeleton

Who are you

Burnside

Family matters

When will I die

Multilevel mark/caesaratbashvigenere

Scientology

Easter egg

Sevral times

oh yes they both

Am i Blanchin

Bye gold

Youre insane

History

Hologram

Scalene

Euclid

Titans Blood -> Owl Trowel

Text Chain (You get questions who's answer is another password)

Riddle->Yes -> Mountain Dont -> Lyre Liar -> Harolds Ramblings -> Union Made -> 29121239168518 -> Grebley Hemberdreck -> Rat -> 3466554 -> Tinsel Snake -> Torture Mentally -> Xgqrthx -> 333 sundapple lane cozy creek IL 60714-94611-> MutliLevel mark->emmaline butternubbins->Dispense my treat

What i thought it was (with answer sources):

Riddle->Yes -> Mountain Dont -> Lyre Liar -> Harolds Ramblings -> Union Made -> 29121239168518 -> Grebley Hemberdreck -> Rat -> 3466554 -> Tinsel Snake -> Torture Mentally -> Xgqrthx -> Titans Blood -> Owl Trowel

Answers found in TBOB- Don't Know, NA, Mcguckets dream page, Medieval page, Anti-Cipher Section- tonic page, Anti Cipher Section- Newspaper, Top Secret page, Textbook page- Skin, Dark Ages Page, Anti Cipher Section-Epilogue, A winter break- footprints page, Book of Bill Cover options page, Never trust a wizard page, Have you dreamed this fellow ad (references informercial in show)

Tab pages-

Abuelita

Dippy Fresh

Alex Hirsch/Alex/Hirsch

*Stan/Stanley (his outfit in ebay searches plus a READABLE with SICK music mind you-Check readable section for more info)

Grunkle Stan

*Gideon (second option unlocked after fully "mableizing" the room)

Waddles

Mcgucket/ Old man McGucket/Fiddleford

Bill/Cipher/LLIB/LLIBREHPIC

Bill Cipher/Rehpic

Zyler (Goes to same place as Craz)

Craz (Goes to same place as Zyler)

Toby Determined

Gravity Falls

Mystery Shack

Not a phase

Blanchin

Peak

Cray Cray

Fixinit1

Meow

Fuck alex/Fuck you alex

Globnar

Monster

Audio/video-

Babba/Discogirl

*Gideon (unlocked after fully "mabelizing" the room)

Tad Strange

Pinata (DEFINATELY WORTH WATCHING)

Vallis Cineris (Found on wall when lightning strikes)

Hey Nerd

Weird (Love him)

Spookemups/Spooky/Scary

That's just a/Theory/Gametheory/Matpat (<3)

One Eyed King-> Naitsuaf (Morse Code) ( early years page)

Forget the past

Im still on your mind

Dorito/Nacho

Just fit in

Rubberhose

Love/Boyfriend

Hectoring

Conspiracy

God/Frillium/Help me

Burned inside

Kook

Kubrick

Small/audio log/music (nothing showed up at first, turned off tv and strange audio played, needs to be reversed)

L is real 2401 (soos my boy)

Readables-

Mason (Dippers real name)

*Dipper (personal notes in ???- keep opening the card to get different results)

Pacifica-> PlatinumPaz

Ford/Standford/Sixer

Wendy

Robbie (def worth a look IMO)

Soos-> Pinata

Cursed (Translated from candle in background)

Ad Astra Per Aspera

Blind Eye->Theyll see (Will blur if clicked on, cannot un-blur, may change dipper?)

Weirdmageddon

Lies

Sorry

Booberry (Decoded from popsicle stick)

Even his lies are lies (Front paper)

Tantrum ( code on Bills Mugshot page)

Suck it Merlin

Shave your Grandma (leads to dippy fresh page)

Baby Bill/baby/lalalalala/daddy/mommy

Owl Trowel

Hotxolotl->Seven eyes-> r34lity

Love ya bro

Fuck/Shit/Fuckyou/bitch/slut/sex

Baaaa-> Black Sheep

naitsuaf (click are you ready-> Sign "pleasure doing business with you -candle light turns blue- OR be a coward (losing sound effect plays)

oroborous-> Frillium

Glass sand beach

math/trigonometry/

horror/creepypasta

destruction is a form of creation

unreality

you can't kill an idea

virus

Occurremusiterum

*Stan (click multiple times to get-once there click "how he beat me several times)

Card

Theraprism

Dionarap->stod eht tcennoc

Printables-

Tyrone/Clone/Paperjam

Curse Wittebane (translates runes on page about witches)

Paper is just book skin ( BE WARNED: automatically downloads a photoshop file and crashses the cite)

Irregular (has code on it)

Divorce/breakup

Other-

Mabel (You get fun stickers and a popping sound :) )

*Giffany ( You put her name in multiple times and it forcibly downloads pictures of her and a text document to your computer, scared me a little Not gonna lie here)

Kings of New Jersey (downloads "secret code" font)

cryptogram codex (downloads cryptogram fonts)

dispense my treat-> Kook (downloads a bunch of cool wallpapers)

Log:

One hour after posting: Added 17 new words

Found by me: Booberry, Mountain Dont, Xgqrthx, titans blood, lyre liar, haralds ramblings, union made

Accidentally found by looking at a post: Sorry

Gifted by replier (Thank you!): MATPAT, yes, no, Fortnite, life, death, portal, question, answer

30 minutes after last update: 9 Words added

Found by me: Theraprism, 29121239168518, Grebley Hemberdreck, Rat, 3466554, Tinsel Snake, Torture Mentally, Fordtramarine, Gun (shocked that worked It was a joke- "bill cipher has A GUN")

Like THREEEEEEE ish hours later?

Found by me: one eyed king, well well well being, shave your grandma, paper is just book skin, even his lies are lies, forget the past, irregular, euclid, tantrum, suck it merlin

Like 12 hours later

Found by me: Reality, Baby Bill, Reality, The universe, Giffany (why is it two Fs, Blarg) They'll see, I'm still on your mind, Journal 1, Journal 2, Journal 3

Gifted to me by a replier (Thank you!): Owl Trowel

Idk- Later

Found by me: hotxolotl, lova ya bro, kings of new jersey, fuck, just fit in

Found on twitter(JasonRitter): Dorito, Blanchin'

Gifted to me by Replier(Thank you!): Gideon's option knowledge

Even MORE later:

Me: Seven eyes, r34ality, filbrick, disney, skibidy, rizz, ohio, love, cia, fbi, rubberhose, 333 sundapple lane cozy creek il 60714-94611, bahhhh, black sheep, naitsuaf, oroborous,theyll see, theyll all see Frillium, occuremusiterum (some of these i gave myself because i was really close but just missed a small detail/spelling)

Taken from here and Here Because I got stumped: Season 3, Season2 , Season 1, Glass shard beach, caryn, Euclydia, Peak, Theory, Cray Cray, Help me, mickey mouse, hectoring, divorce, breakup, skeleton, math, history, monster, gyatt, who are you, fixinit1, conspiracy, riddle, cryptogram codex, horror, creepypasta, trigonometry, god, boyfriend,baby, lalalalala, scary, trigonometry,just blendin, morality, burnside, family matters, when will i die, elon, multilevel mark, goodnight sally,paper jam, tourist trap,the duchess approves,shape, scientology, meow, nacho, crypto,sevral times,easter egg, oh yes they both, daddy, mommy, burned inside, destruction is a form of creation, i see, unreality, you can't kill an idea, am i blanchin, fuck alex, fuck you alex, fuck you, shit, bye gold, nsa, globnar,disneyland,kook, kuibrick,virus,that's just a, you're insane

Next day

Found online: Dionarap, stod eht tcennoc, dispense my treat

[more-than-a-princess]

@transcendentxchronicles asked: [Togami - Post Despair] “I have a reason to work for my freedom. I thought you did, too.”

Crescent City sentence starters - still accepting!

Seated at the other side of his desk, only one thing crossed through Sonia's mind. Well, perhaps more accurately, two: One, was he being facetious? And two, she was far too sober for this thrice weekly torture described, all too keenly by Makoto Naegi, as rehabilitation, therapy, for the former Class 77-B. The former Remnants of Despair. Former everything...none of them had a place in the world anymore, not really.

Something that Byakuya Togami was keen to correct. Sonia folded her arms across her chest, her mouth fixed in its usual expression: something between unamused and irritated. She supposed, in a warped sense, the man was fortunate: he didn't really know what it was to fail, and still had a staggering number of employees and resources at his disposal. One that, to her chagrin, also included her: in a necessary measure to keep Sonia away from the Hotel Mirai kitchens and anything to do with cleaning products, housekeeping, or repairs, the Future Foundation and former Remnants alike had agreed she'd be put to best use doing secretarial duties: filing papers, managing shipments of goods to the island, and perhaps most importantly, translating any documents, calls, or recorded video from one language to another. A necessity to keep tabs on worldwide restoration efforts, and a task that she only needed a dictionary once in awhile to check the specific interpretation of a word or phrase.

The most recent translation assignment had been placed neatly on one side of Togami's desk, three days ahead of her assigned due date. Now, Sonia had half a mind to turn the lot of it into confetti, alongside the folded newspapers that had been sent over from Europe detailing the latest in parliament and public opinion regarding Novoselic's disgraced queen. Overall, it was not a favorable assessment. She was tempted, in her dissatisfaction with both her current sobriety and her current predicament that afternoon, shut away in Byakuya Togami's office with only the man for company, to tear the publications into a pile of confetti as well. Sprinkle in some choice words she had for the entire plan his organization had for her, and slam the door so hard in her wake that it would nearly come off its hinges.

Instead she exhaled, already feeling the headache coming on. Therapy was supposed to be, well, therapeutic: instead, she usually left Togami's thrice weekly sessions with her feeling worse than before. Annoyed or frustrated, but mostly the feeling of emptiness, that her entire life had amounted to nothing besides pain and suffering and regret. That couldn't be fixed, there was no bringing back all the lives she'd taken with her own hands.

"Freedom," She repeated, her voice low and quiet as her hands gripped the folds of her linen skirt. The fabric would crumple and wrinkle within her fists, ruining any attempt of appearing neat and tidy. Not that it mattered: the dark circles beneath her blue eyes were proof enough of that. "What freedom is that, exactly? The Future Foundation has made it perfectly clear that, sooner rather than later, I'm to be extradited off this island to be returned to Novoselic, where I'm either to be shut away in a Castle like some fairytale character or be put to death like disgraced queens of the past."

It was true: her time was running out. She'd negotiated with Naegi upon her initial awakening and release from the Jabberwock Island Hospital that she'd refuse to budge from the island's shores until she knew all of her comatose friends were revived. And after many weeks of trial and error, of the five who had survived the Neo World Program to find a way to feed and shelter themselves while deciphering the vast array of codes and machines to safely extract their former classmates from their pods, they'd finally achieved it. The last of the group to awaken were now convalescing in hospital beds before being moved into their own cabins, to continue their therapy. To find their place in the world.

They were fortunate, Sonia thought: a lack of home and responsibility gave most of her friends a choice. She, and the likes of Fuyuhiko (and Peko by extension), were not so fortunate. They had countries, businesses, perhaps even family still alive and needing the former Remnants to answer for their crimes, to begin the rest of their lives attempting to make amends to their people. She supposed, then, that was why out of the lot of them, it had been Togami assigned to apprehend them as Remnants and to aid in their rehabilitation. As if all offspring from wealthy and influential families had reason to understand one another and bond due to giant bank accounts and an impressive family tree.

"So I'll ask you again, Togami," Sonia exhaled, releasing her grip on her skirt. How many more minutes would she be subjected to Togami's interpretation of Naegi's tirades about hope? The leader of the whole operation was grating enough on her nerves: the last thing she wanted to contend with was someone who had never manage to fuck up as badly as she did. Who still brought honor and glory to his family name despite the state of the world. He'd never been brainwashed by the likes of Junko Enoshima, and it seemed as if he wouldn't allow her to forget it. "What freedom of mine am I fighting for? Because how I see it, Jabberwock Island is the closest I'm ever going to get to freedom. It's the only place on Earth that no one gives a shit that I'm a queen. My friends...my family, they care about me. Novoselic...well, you can see it in black and white: they want me returned either to imprison me or kill me. There's no freedom in that. There's barely any honor in that."

She paused, sighing: it was a challenge not to resent the neat stack of papers on his desk. "If you were going to spend this therapy hour giving me a lecture, I would not have completed your translation requests so efficiently. If this is what's given as a reward in return." And hand the entire bag of European coffee beans she'd received in her last shipment from home off to Teruteru to do as he liked with it, or throw it right back into the sea. She had no use for it, but it was one of the few brands left that made exquisite coffee, sent with the purpose that she share it with her friends. Considering how repulsive the usual coffee was, coming from a jar that used to be sold in convenience stores for a couple hundred yen at most, Sonia imagined Togami could barely stand the current offerings.

[wolkewatcher]

me 2hrs ish ago or whatever: i am so sleepy i will hv coffee do some german then go to sleep

what actually happened: opened german textbook searched n wrote in the english translation of like 4 or 5 words come across a word i need to remember to write the full conjugation out for so i go to the bottom of the page to jot it down sees the name of the guy i got paired with to do the oral exam decides to google search his name bc i love doing tht for some reason? n also i was hoping to find out if he's by chance the cool guy who spoke w/ me a bit last time bc i want him to be anyways guy's name brings up many results actually? (if the person found in the searches is him then it's likely not the guy who spoke w/ me sad) anways one of the results was a newspaper article saw the trending headlines at the side of the page clicked an article about gang life discovered the article had names of many of the most notorious gang leaders old interest piqued highlights almost all the names n open new tabs with searches for them is now making my way thru all the open tabs of gang leaders who were killed some whose stores i am already familiar with bc it happened within the last few yrs so i was yk 'there' for it also facing the inner turmoils and anger n genuine just bafflement of these ppl their lives their children wondering how many of them knew when the random car ambushed them n the masked guys came out did they know it was their end do they live in constant fear god i live in constant fear tht ppl hate me for breathing what abt when u hv 'valid' reasons for 'haters' n again their mf children screams i know the profile n demographic n they whys in terms of failed societal institutions corrupt governments etc tht contribute to these choices but also all of tht aside how do you make tht choice n also how unfair? it is tht once u do there's like no way to back out the only way out is literally thru once u get into it u keep going deeper n deeper n u hope to elevate urself in the ranks to become untouchable bc thts the only protection but also it's not god it's so sad n so complex sigh

[britishchick09]

this is salle le peletier, the home of the paris opera until it burned down in 1873. erik describes the fire in the rewrite and that made me wonder... would be have been able to see it from palais garnier? to find that out, i looked up the opera house’s former address and found this:

there’s the address! i looked it up in google maps and...

it’s only 9 minutes away from palais garnier so erik could’ve seen the fire in the distance! here’s a closer look at what stands there today:

there’s nothing on the building indicating that this was the former opera house’s home, but nowadays it houses an investment bank called bpifrance

...but what was it during the rewrite’s time of 1888/89? ;)

to find that out, i went to gallica, a french newspaper site. i looked up ‘12 rue le peletier’ so i could get exact results and found a clipping from 1887:

it translates to ‘subscribers to colonne concerts are informed that they can collect their coupons at the headquarters of the administration, 12 rue le peletier, from wednesday 12 current, every day, from two to five o'clock‘

colonne refers to the colonne orchestra, which was founded in 1873 (coincidence, i think not!) by edouard colonne, a famous conductor and violinist, during the 1850s and 60s he was the first violinist at the paris opera! ;)

so the former opera house was the home of an orchestra during the late 1880s. erik would love that! but i decided to search for 1888 clippings just to make sure. that’s when i found this:

this clipping says ‘the placement thus comes to 6.53% with the redemption premium / we underestimate: saturday, october 6, 1888 / in paris, at the parisian bank, 7, rue chauchat and 12, rue le peletier’

well this is different! nearly a year later, it’s become a bank! banque parisienne was founded a year after the slp fire and they ran into liquidity problems by the late 1880s, but were saved by another bank called societe generale, whose headquarters are right next door to palais garnier

i decided to look up 1889 clippings and found this:

this translates to ‘the singing lesson of mrs. edouard colonne, 12, rue le peletier’

there’s colonne again! madame colonne was eugenie vergin, edouard’s wife who was a popular singing teacher in paris and she played marguerite in ‘la damnation de faust’! slight poto reference there ;)

but now we have 12 rue le peletier being colonne’s headquarters/his wife’s singing school and banque parisenne! at first i was confused, but then i remembered something on google maps...

there are two occupants of the building! :o

it’s very possible that in 1888/89, the former site of salle le peletier was home to banque parisienne/colonne city just like how it’s home to bpifrance/foncia in 2021/22! :D

[basilone]

The lovely @mercurygray organized the second Blind Dates OC Fest, y’all, and I came out of hibernation on this blog to gift you a little something for that! I plucked a name out of my brain for this one, gave her a little in the way of backstory, and put her with good ol’ Bill Guarnere and company... I do not write Wild Bill very often at all, hehe, and so it seemed like the right thing for this particular ‘assignment’. Hope you’ll enjoy!

the many-lettered words

Seven letters horizontal. The close of a day.

Well, that one’s easy enough. Pippa reaches for the pencil she tucked away in one of the braids mother had insisted she wear today. Lifts it out of her hair triumphantly, with only a small wispy curl becoming airborne at the motion, and puts it to the paper in front of her face.

E-V-E-N-thump!

She hisses between her teeth at the rude interruption of sound. Scowls at the paper, which now sports a rather shaky start of an I for the next letter in her puzzle.

Thump! Thump!

Thwack!

She groans out loud. “Not this malarkey again.”

Pippa is disappointed to find, upon tipping her head back, that it is exactly this malarkey again. Or, well, better said, it’s the Americans again, and somehow that has felt like the same thing over the past month or two. In fact, she’s quite certain that the appearance of the Americans is wholly synonymous with any sort of malarkey that has ever occurred over the past fourteen years she’s been alive and quite possibly far longer than that.

Synonymous. She likes that word. It had been the 51 vertical in the puzzle three days ago, which had only taken her two tries to get right.

Thump! Thump! Pippa’s eyes narrow at the ball that somehow manages to be even noisier than the football the boys at school favor. It’s been plaguing this exact spot of pavement for weeks now, right across from the one spot that is great for climbing and thinking, and there are nights in bed when she thinks she can still hear the thump-thwack of what she’s certain is called a dribble-and-score.

Really annoying American game. Ten letters. B-A-S-K-E-T-B-A-L-L. Pippa sounds the letters out in her head alongside the thump-thwack of another loss dealt to the same guys that always seem to lose this game. She hardly knows why they bother to play, especially when one of the winners has a voice like a foghorn on the best of days. She thinks she would stuff his mouth full with the remnants of that stupid ball before she would tolerate hearing another “hehehe” from him.

“– slow like them tractors ya drive back in Kokomo, Tab!”

Oh, and every other word he toots into this world is unintelligible. She must not forget that.

Pippa sighs as she returns to her crossword and finishes spelling out evening. She doesn’t like the puzzle in this newspaper nearly as much as the one in the other newspaper, but it’s still good practice. Evening translates to nightfall translates to sunset translates to twilight translates to dusk, which is the opposite of dawn that is the dominion of Greek goddess Eos.

Eos had been the last clue Bobby had solved in the puzzle he had left unfinished on his bedside table before they’d made him go to Italy. She hadn’t dared finish that. Keeps it in her pocket, tucked away between a small pebble and a spare piece of gum, until Bobby gets home and steals the pencil out of her braid in a bid to solve the rest of it.

She shakes her head. Swings upright before she can contemplate the next clue in her puzzle. It’s bound to be another easy one again, like French word for snail that she had known full well was escargot, and she’s quite done with easy. Pippa’s nose wrinkles as she considers that the American soldiers behind her often proclaim they are part of Easy, too, as though that is a point of pride rather than something her mother would disapprove of.

They should have called their unit Echo, like the Greek nymph who’d lost her voice when she fell in love. Maybe then this one soldier would finally find it in himself to stop talking, though her hopes aren’t very high for him as she hops down to ground. Pippa tucks her pencil behind her ear. Neatly folds the paper until she can tuck it into the pocket opposite of the one she keeps her brother’s things in. The game behind her has started back up again, as though it’ll have a different result this time, and she suppresses a roll of her eyes as she turns around.

Only a lifetime of reflexes honed by virtue of an older brother saves her from being hit in the face with their ball.

“Oops!”

“Hey, kid, you all right?”

“–bout that, shoulda watched where that went!”

Pippa exhales the equivalent of a storm. “Really?” she asks, rather sharply, as she looks the offending parties up and down. Their ball has come to a halt against the tree. “How exactly does one lose control of a basketball?”

“Well, ya see,” perks up Foghorn, to her mounting horror, “ya would need ta move it like this right here, see?” His arms mimic something that is either a throw or a pantomime of a drowning man. “And if ya throw it a bit too enthused, it’s gonna have thoughts of its own about where ta go.”

She raises both eyebrows before she knows good and well that she would really like to argue about that. “That type of movement is called a trajectory,” she says, remembering last week’s crossword, “because inanimate objects like a ball don’t have a brain to think with.”

“I know what a trajectory is!”

“Congratulations,” she snaps out as her foot toes the ball. She nudges it away from the patch of grass she knows will house more dandelions and daisies in spring. “Now that we’ve established you messed with the ball’s trajectory in your enthusiasm and almost hit me in the face, I’m fairly certain you are going to ask if you can have it back so you can continue being all manner of obnoxious with it.”

Obnoxious, nine letter word, had tripped her up for three hours before she had figured out that sometimes a puzzle needs an x in the center of it all. She had stared at it as though it was a pirate’s map to treasure once filled out. X marks the spot, like in those stories about Captain Flint and the very clever Long John Silver who’d terrified her plenty when Bobby had read Treasure Island to her.

“Ya remind me of somebody,” says Foghorn, as though she has not just done her absolute best to insult him. The snap of his fingers is as loud as the rest of him. “Somebody from back – hey, Ralph, do ya remember Dot? Dottie, from five blocks down, who kept sayin’ youse gonna be in trouble ta them Petrelli boys?”

Pippa lets out a huff as one of the man’s companions – Ralph, it must be Ralph – seems to actually give serious thought to it. “Ya mean Dottie the professor?” comes the follow-up question, sure as anything, because apparently she has stumbled onto the exact group of Americans who’ve got the makings of a hivemind. “The one blind Annie decked in the face once on account of that issue with them handbags, or was that someone else?”

“Nah, hehe, that was Lou, ya don’t remember Lou?”

The rest of this Easy group of soldiers may be content to follow this like it’s got the makings of the best tennis match that will never make it to Wimbledon, but Pippa thinks she can make better use of her time being anywhere but here. She stuffs her hands down her pockets until her fingers lock around the pebble in one and the match she keeps on the other side. Saunters up to the Americans, purposefully leaving their ball in the patch of grass behind her, and fixes the most floppy-haired of them with a firm stare.

“When you lot from Kokomo are quite done,” she says archly, resisting the urge to spell the weird name by a hair, “you might want to apologize to Mrs Townsend for upsetting her cat.”

“Now hang on just a bit! We ain’t from there!”

“You’re not from where?”

“Kokomo! That’s just Tab, fer cryin’ out loud!”

Pippa winces as Foghorn’s voice actually increases in volume, despite the fact that she now stands closer to him than she’s ever been. “Wherever you’re from, then,” she indulges, leaning away from him ever so slightly. “The point about the cat stands. It’s hiding in the bushes, which it never used to before you lot came along.”

“That’s just a cat thing, like them kittens youse found in that hayloft last week,” nods Foghorn, indicating some stragglers in his company who seem to want to be anywhere but in the middle of this particular conversation. “Ralph and me, we’re from Philly. The rest of this sorry lot is from all over.”

“Philly?”

“Philadelphia,” interjects Ralph, mercifully cutting off the big gulp of breath that Foghorn was in the process of taking. “It’s a big city in Pennsylvania.”

“It doesn’t sound that big when you know everybody within a twenty mile radius from where you live,” she points out. “It’s a good name for a crossword, though. Might come up as a clue.”

“That what you were doing, solving crosswords?”

Pippa nods. “I need to practice.”

“Practice for what, kid?”

“I’m not a kid,” she glares at Tab-from-Kokomo, “I’m fourteen. It’s practice for later, when they let me join the war.”

“Oh, she’s fourteen,” mutters Tab, with all the air of a man either used to younger sisters or used to wildly misjudging a girl’s age. Given the fact that he does not quail under her stare any, she’s convinced it must be at least one sister. “What’re you going to do in the war, then?”

Pippa barely resists the urge to stomp her foot onto his boot. “Stuff,” she says archly. “Important things. You wouldn’t get it.”

“Hate to break it to ya, kid,” starts Foghorn, so loud she’s certain half the kids from her school are going to hear, “but them war th–”

“Pippa!” she enunciates as she shouts him down and tries to stop her voice from doing the shrieking thing her brother always laughs at. “My name is Pippa. Pippa Kent.” She draws herself up to her full height, which is still at least a head shorter than any of them. “I’m not a kid and I certainly don’t need you to tell me about the war.”

She decides she hates the look that passes between them. Like she’s not all there, not in the same conversation they are, not worth acknowledging as someone who’s trying as hard as any of them to make this world make sense again. It’s like the look some of the girls in school get when they talk about these American soldiers like they are better than the English boys, as though it’s somehow better to get kissed by someone whose vowels all sound like a strangulation issue in progress. It’s something like the look her mother gives her, sometimes, when she keeps asking if Bobby has sent a letter from Italy and whether he’s coming home for Christmas at all this year.

“You’ve been here, what, two months now?” she asks as she pulls her hands out of her pockets and puts them on her hips. “Two whole months. We’ve been in this mess for years! Took you long enough, didn’t it?” The bitterness spills out before her mind can catch up with the barrage on her tongue. “Maybe, if youse stopped playing ball and started fighting, Bobby’d come home from Italy for Christmas and Mum wou–” She exhales a breath. Stops herself from uttering the Mum wouldn’t yell at me this much anymore. “What’s the point if you just stand here and play games? Honestly!”

Pippa doesn’t know the name for the look that they share now. It’s more solemn, though not without a hint of exasperation, and she would dearly like to know the term for it. She’s certain someday it will turn up in a code that only she can break, for this feels like a look shared between soldiers that she’s somehow made part of.

“We’re going to fight,” says Foghorn, then, quieter than she’s ever heard him be. “Scout’s honor, or my name ain’t Wild Bill.”

She rolls her eyes. “Lord, save me from well-meaning cowboys.”

“Yeah?” Wild Bill lets out a cackle that could rival that of the witch in that bloody story about Hansel and Gretel. “Ya wanna shoot some hoops against this cowboy now, little miss judgment?”

“Can’t,” she says, shaking her head. “Mum will have my hide if I’m not home by six. And you lot need to get going, too, unless you want to miss that debrief the posh man with the big eyebrows was talking about earlier.”

“What posh –”

“Eyebr– Pat, who do ya know who’s got them eyebr–”

“Gotta be Nixon, yeah?”

Pippa shrugs as their ball lies forgotten and the talking turns to shoving and a bit of panic before long. Honestly, and they’re supposed to win a war when they can’t even listen to their superior officers any?

Superior. Eight-letter word. Large lake in the United States.

Maybe she can ask tomorrow if they know anyone from there.

[antivirus-mh-au]

Antivirus - Chapter 2

TW: None Chapter 1 here Ao3 link If you like this, please leave a like, reblog, or send me an ask! It encourages me so much.

He blew the smoke from his mouth around the cigarette, the morning sun catching all the particles as they floated into the air. Tim drew the J on top of the fresh carton and dropped the pen onto the dashboard. Pulling the cigarette from his mouth, he drew in a deep breath of fresh air, fresh as you could get at a gas station by a highway. Looking around the parking lot, at the people filing in and out, he shook his head and gave a wry smile. Hard not to be in a good mood when you got some decent sleep for once.

Becca and Lukas were okay. Lukas's leg had been taken care of, and the two had set back off for Idaho, back to the families that loved them. Another success case for Timothy Kane. Another group of people adding to the myth of his existence. Seemed like every month there were more of them. The Operator never tired. The sickness never eased. In fact, it only grew worse.

But like hell was he going to start off a good morning with that depressing shit. He'd gotten paid, gotten rest, and he'd found out where the nearest library was with free internet. He was not going to let a rare moment of peace escape him. He'd lost too much for that.

The library wasn't far away from the gas station he'd refilled at. By the time he pulled into the parking lot, it was open, as were the windows on the front of the building. He spoke briefly to the clerk at the front desk, making sure he understood their internet rules and that it was okay for him to bring in his thermos of coffee, before finding a convenient spot by a power outlet. 

His laptop was getting old, it took a while for it to boot up. As Tim waited, he thumbed through a newspaper. Experts predicting a war with China for the third time in as many years, conflict in the Middle East, the royal family in Britain getting roped into some scandal or another. That was why he didn't read the news much, it was always the same. By the time he got to the comics (never his favorite part of the newspaper), his laptop had finished, and Tim traded the two without a second thought.

He could and did check his email on his phone but he was old-fashioned and preferred to use his laptop when he had the chance. Earlier Becca's mother replied to his report about her daughter returning home, a message he'd saved in a special folder he looked at when he felt particularly shitty. 

Another email was waiting for him now, from a 'Meridith Frederickson'. Another client, looking for her son and his missing best friend. He replied to that one, offering to schedule a Zoom meeting later that same day. By now he knew all too well what happened if he wasn't on top of his cases. 

And of course, he had new messages in the spam folder. Tim glanced over the subjects of the emails without opening any of them. Some didn't have any, but most were vaguely threatening, the kind he usually got from trolls and kids. 'Always watching', 'there's no escape', 'how could you', and on and on and on. People thought they could get a rise out of him by acting like totheark, but none of them even came close to what Brian had been all those years ago. 

Tim glanced at the tab next to his email, frowning. There was no sense in trying to put it off, even if he hated doing it. Everything on that site made him feel worse, and today had been a pretty good day. But if he didn't look, he'd regret it later, falling into a rabbit hole of updates that was guaranteed to fuck him over. So he opened YouTube.

The videos were taken down years ago, the channels involved with Marble Hornets wiped from the website. But that didn't mean they were gone, just hidden away on Google Drives and shock sites. What was on YouTube was... the fandom.

It made his skin crawl thinking about it. People from all over the world were obsessed with what he and Jay had been through. He'd seen hundreds of articles about the videos, from five minute listicles to long analysises about the events and the people involved. He'd seen other things, too, things he'd rather not remember. Like the fanart...

Out of everything, though, it was the YouTube community that unsettled him the most. The passionate, wide eyed college kids. The naive high schoolers. The older people, with their backgrounds in criminal science and forensics and cryptids and God knew what else. They picked over the videos and tweets and codes like vultures at a pile of bones. Like it was just a fictional web series, like people he knew and once liked weren't dead. And they spread the disease. It didn't take all of them, leaving the YouTubers alone, but claiming their followers. It made him sick thinking about all the people he couldn't save, the people who had no one left to try and find them, the people who vanished into Rosswood Park and were never seen again. It made him sick, watching these ignorant people talk about his pain as if they were all insects under microscopes.

But if he didn't pay attention, who knew what might happen. The Operator was watching all of them. One slip up was all it took.

He scrolled through both the front page and his subscriptions. The videos were, in the end, all the same. Speculation, discussion, analyzation. Some of them he could watch later. Others needed his attention now.

Tim’s eyes landed on a video, and his heart clenched. The Neophyte was streaming again.

The still image didn’t show much. Neophyte_Calling didn’t put much work into his channel. It was just a shot of what the streams normally showed, pale, unkempt hands poking free from black robes, resting on an old plastic table. That was what he expected to find once he opened the stream.

And he’d be correct, that was what awaited him once he got the courage to click. The hands twitched and clenched and dug at the table. It wasn’t the hands that were special though, it was what the owner of those hands were saying.

“Autumn after firestorm, the nights don’t listen and the butter is on the corn. Ten days or twenty paces of living guts wrapped around an old man’s neck. The water comes up to your waist but you don’t feel the attitude of denial inside the bastard daughter’s heart. Oh, god, eureka, industry was never so smooth…”

Complete nonsense. The ramblings of a man on some kind of drug, or lost to some unknown mental illness. Despite this, the chat flooded with messages. Donations popped up occasionally, attempts to get the Neophyte’s attention. He didn’t notice. He never noticed. He just kept talking. And he would keep talking until the stream ended on its own, or he passed out on the table.

People called him a prophet. Claimed every word he spoke had a double, or even a triple, meaning. They recorded every word he said and discussed them among themselves, coming up with ‘translations’ for his maddening dialogue. And to be fair, they could have a point. Sometimes, what the Neophyte said did seem to foretell events that happened not long after he spoke them. But the god the Neophyte channeled was not one Tim would ever ask someone to worship.

Silence. The man stopped talking, his fidgeting hands resting flat on the table. Dread filled Tim’s body. Speak of the devil, he was doing this again?

The Neophyte spoke again, his voice deeper now. The words came clumsy from his mouth, uncomfortable, heavy, as if he had never spoken before. The emphasis, the tone, it was all wrong. Tim had no trouble understanding them, however.

“You always fight,” It said through the Neophyte’s mouth. “You always resist. You tire, and exhaust, and fall. You continue to fight despite.”

The robes shifted, the head hidden from the camera’s view tilting.

“Tim,” It said. “You are a grain of sand. I am eternal. I am here. I will always be here. You understand. You continue despite.”

On the side of the screen, the chat surged with messages. It raced so quickly, Tim couldn’t have read any of them even if he tried. He didn’t look away from the livestream. 

“Tim,” It said again. “Enough. You have fought hard. You are getting old. That’s enough. It’s time to come home. To us. To all of us.”

The hair stood up on his arms, on the back of Tim’s neck. He shuddered.

“Like hell,” he whispered, and closed the tab.

But even though he closed the livestream, he could swear he heard the Neophyte, the thing puppeting him, whisper in his mind.

“Coward.”

When 2pm rolled around, Tim was back in his van in the library parking lot. Obviously he couldn’t do a Zoom call inside the quiet space, but their internet reached well past the parking lot. He sat on his bed, now folded up like a couch inside the converted van he lived in. His laptop open before him, the program open and ready. Now he just had to wait for her.

Hard to say what this Meredith Fredrickson would expect a private investigator like him to look like, but Tim did his best to look presentable anyway. Hair combed, beard trimmed, leather jacket kept to the side out of her line of sight - leather jackets weren’t worn by authority figures, and that was what he was trying to be right now. Not anyone could do this job, but who’s to say she knew that? If she didn’t like the way he looked, she could try to find someone else to find her son and his friend. And if she did that, by the time she realized only Tim could help her, it would be too late.

Thinking about it that way made him shudder.

Of course, while he was prepared to deal with what she thought he would look like, he wasn’t as ready for what she herself would look like. As the call began, and Meredith’s face came on screen, Tim hesitated. He looked at her closely again. Had he seen this woman before?

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Fredrickson,” He greeted.

The woman shook her head, her curly brown hair tossing around her slim shoulders.

“Meredith is fine,” she said. “I haven’t been called ‘Mrs’ since my husband died. I changed back to my maiden name - my son’s last name will be his, not mine.”

“Of course,” Tim said. Odd information to include, but people tended to ramble when they were nervous.

He looked at her again, at the frown lines developing around her lips, and the worry and pain in her wide-set eyes. Behind her was a normal looking home, a few windows with pale curtains, a kitchen kept clean from what little he saw. Something was nagging at him. What was it?

“Did you fill out the information packet I requested?” He asked.

Meredith nodded.

“Yes.”

The file appeared, Tim half-listening to her as he opened it.

“I know this is a very strange thing to ask from you,” Meredith said. “But circumstances have changed in a way I really didn’t expect. I know it’s hard to believe that after ten years my son could be alive, but I don’t have any other explanation for…”

She trailed off. Tim didn’t look away from the document she’d sent. The names written on the very first line.

Missing People: Jay Merrick and Alex Kralie

Motherfucker, had he been tricked?

Tim shot the woman a sharp glance, examining her expression in seconds. She was not the first person to ask him to track down Jay and Alex, but she was the first he hadn’t screened out before it got this far. Most people were upfront about their intentions, or were obviously trolling, or he otherwise got weird vibes from them. This Meredith had slipped him by, and wasted his time in the process.

“He is my son,” Meredith said. “I’ve included his birth certificate, since I thought you might not believe me.”

“I don’t need it.” A birth certificate? Those weren’t easy to fake, but Tim was no expert on Photoshop either. 

“I would’ve included Alex’s, too,” Meredith continued. “After all the years he and Jay knew each other, you would’ve thought I’d have it too.” She laughed, and there was pain within it. “But his parents died in a car accident about six years back, and…”

“Wait.” Tim refocused. “Alex and Jay knew each other?”

“Since the first year of middle school,” Meredith said with a nod. “I have a lot of photos of them. You know, Jay went through a phase, where he wore all black, and listened to rock music with singers I couldn’t understand. He got a tattoo of one of the bands on his ankle behind my back. I was so angry...”

She laughed again, and her eyes went distant. Tim stared at her, his mind flashing back to all the conversations he’d had with Jay, things that didn’t go into the videos. Being Alex’s childhood friend, since middle school - the phases he went through as a teen - that damn tattoo he was so embarrassed of. None of these were known by the fandom.

Oh god, this woman was the real deal. Even her face, now that he looked at her, was just like Jay’s. The distant look in her eyes as she thought… Jay got that same expression.

“Meredith,” he said, his voice softer, kinder. “Do you know about Marble Hornets?”

“I can’t bring myself to watch them,” she said. Meredith folded her hands together. “But I know what… what was shown on the videos. I know that they are…” She swallowed. “Considered dead by most people. I was one of them.”

His gut twisted. By most people, including her. “But something… changed.”

“Yes.” She took a deep breath, and moved to wipe her eyes. “I got a package in the mail about a week ago. Inside was a flashdrive and a few printed photos. It had been placed in my mailbox - I don’t know who sent it.”

Oh no, Tim thought. Not this again. Please, don’t play this game with people again.

“What were the photos?” He asked, aware of the sound of his own voice more than anything else.

“I’ve included most of them in the document,” Meredith said. “I… I still can’t believe what I’ve seen, but… But they don’t look like they could’ve been faked.”

Dread pressed down on his shoulders. Dread and something else, some kind of energy buzzing through his nerves. Tim looked at the document, scrolled down, and opened the photos.

Some were blurry, taken from a distance and zoomed in before being printed. Some were clear as glass. It took him several seconds to process what he was seeing, what the subjects of the photos were. Tim blinked, looked again, and his pulse quickened.

Alex, standing on a street corner, gray in his hair, exhaustion on his face. Jay in a dark cloth jacket with a hood, looking over his shoulders. Alex, and Jay, Alex, and Jay, in all the photos, in every single one. The clothes were different, the faces aged, but there was no denying what he was seeing, and like Meredith said, no way to fake what he was looking at.

“Oh my god,” Tim mumbled.

Jay and Alex were alive.

[justkindaoverhereobsessing]

Ellick Week Day Four (AU!)

@ellickweek

________________

‘How many potato chips can I eat without dying?’

As the question appears on Nick Torres’ screen, he makes a face. There’s no way anyone would really need to Google that question, right? He looks at one of his adjoining screens to see a slightly unflattering selfie-camera live view angle of a blonde woman with a dusting of crumbs on her top; she’s frowning as she scans the question’s search results. 

Nick is the FBI agent who has just been assigned to keep covert tabs on former NSA agent Ellie Bishop, and he’s not sure what to make of his new task. He’s to pay attention to her internet usage, primarily, and watch her through her webcams as necessary. Someone far higher up the food chain than Nick thinks Bishop might be spilling state secrets. 

The mere fact that she Googled her potato chip question five minutes into being watched makes Nick doubt the higher-up’s assessment entirely, but a job’s a job. 

________________

Three weeks later, he hasn’t seen anything that makes him any more suspicious of her, but she’s made him raise his eyebrows at least a couple of times a day ever since that first potato chip. 

On day three, she starts aggressively typing in Arabic so quickly that Nick’s translating software lags in trying to keep up. Before Nick can wonder what she’s writing about, though, the translator catches on… Bishop is merely making notes to herself on a recipe for Dolmeh-e-Kadoo, an Afghan dish consisting of stuffed squash. ‘Cook rice for two minutes longer than advised,’ Bishop types. ‘Fresh tarragon is preferable to dried.’

Someone really thinks this woman is a threat to national security?

On day nine, her biggest crime is using fifteen minutes at work to Google something called a Tater Tot Queen, clicking links that lead her to small Oklahoma newspaper websites. Nick checks into the background info he was given on her, and the Oklahoma thing starts to make sense. The Tater Tot Queen thing, though, remains a mildly endearing mystery. 

Day eighteen brings drama. Ellie has her laptop open and facing the living room of her apartment, giving Nick just the view he needs to watch her fight with her husband.

“You could communicate if you wanted to, Jake! I’m not asking for classified details! I just want to know how your freaking day was!” 

Her husband—who Nick decides quickly he doesn’t like at all—doesn’t respond kindly. “Hey, you’re the one who quit the NSA, Ellie. You’re the one who made it so we can’t talk about anything anymore. Surely your memory isn’t that short—you know damn well how strict the rules are about sharing information!”

Though Nick should really agree with Jake here—especially given the reason Ellie is being investigated—he finds that he can’t after Jake storms from the room, leaving Ellie on the verge of frustrated tears.

He wonders when he started thinking of her as Ellie.

________________

Four months into the assignment, Nick starts to strongly suspect that Jake is cheating on Ellie, and he does something stupid.

His department of the FBI has a number of highly secure servers that are untraceable. Anyone trying to pinpoint where an agent is working from will be bounced by a proxy from location to location all over the world at a speed human hackers just can’t match. That makes anonymity possible in a world where secrets are hard to keep, and Nick takes advantage. He just can’t help himself.

He sends Ellie a text masked by the servers. Don’t trust Jake. Trace his steps last week and you’ll find out why. 

He watches through her cell’s front-facing camera as Ellie’s expression morphs into one of suspicion. Who is this? she replies.

Nick: A friend. 

Ellie: Sorry, “friend”, but I think I’ll trust my husband over you. 

Nick knows he has threatened his own life and livelihood enough as it is, so he doesn’t reply. He watches Ellie start to consider what he said, though, and the risk feels worth it.

When Ellie discovers a few weeks later that Nick was right and her marriage subsequently falls apart, Nick finds that watching her pain is almost unbearable. He sends one more text.

He never deserved you. 

________________

Six months in, Nick watches in disbelief as Ellie eats her third junk food snack of the day… first, it was a honey bun. Then, it was hot Cheetos. Now, it’s half a sleeve of Thin Mint Girl Scout Cookies. How on Earth does she manage to stay so fit? 

Though it’s a moronic thing to do, he reaches out to her again. Ellie, I’m concerned about your health. Don’t forget to eat real food in between snacks, woman. 

She responds almost instantly, making Nick grin. Seriously, who is this?

Nick: I meant it when I said I was a friend. 

Ellie: Friends don’t text friends creepy, cryptic messages.

Nick experiences a stroke of genius—he’ll just tell the truth. She’ll never believe him. Okay, you caught me. I’m the FBI agent assigned to watch you. ;) 

He can see Ellie roll her eyes. Ha ha, very funny. Who are you really?

You can call me Nick. 

Okay then, “Nick.” I’m blocking your number now. Bye.

For some reason, though, she doesn’t, and Nick feels absurdly like he’s won some sort of unexpected prize.

________________

Talking to Ellie becomes the highlight of his job. Though she continuously asks Nick who he is and gets frustrated when he never really answers, she never stops replying to him. Something in that analytical mind of hers seems to think that if he was anything other than a benign—if slightly eerie—mystery in her life, he would have acted against her already.

In the beginning, she puts a lot of effort into figuring out his identity. She traces the IP address and the spoofed phone number he uses to contact her. She Googles a variety of increasingly unlikely questions trying to find clues as to his identity. She even has one of her coworkers dig deeply into the servers he’s using, but the FBI is nothing if not thorough in covering its tracks.

Then one day, she seems to decide that she doesn’t really care who he is, and she starts to chat with him more casually. 

Sometimes, they talk about whatever Nick has observed her doing, but sometimes, they just… talk. Nick eventually realizes that she’s become something of a confessional for him; she’s both intelligent and unbiased enough to give solid advice, and kind and funny enough to make him feel better about whatever he happens to be going through. It hardly matters that they’ve never met and that there’s a constant veil of secrecy between them… they’re friends, as ridiculous as that is. 

________________

Nick has been assigned to watch her for an entire year before he starts to realize how much he hates doing this. Surveilling unaware people never really bothered him before, but he realizes that he doesn’t want to keep invading Ellie’s privacy like this. He wants to be a part of her life organically. He doesn’t see a single reason she’s being watched at all, and it feels increasingly wrong to target her when she hasn’t done anything wrong.

In his latest report to his superiors, he details the mundane things Ellie does in her spare time. At the end, he notes ‘suspect displays no suspicious behavior. Recommend terminating surveillance.’

Then he decides all at once that he’s done. 

Officially done.

He types up a letter on his computer, prints it, and drops it in his boss’ mailbox. Then he takes his phone off of all the FBI servers and unspoofs his number to text Ellie one more time. 

My name is Nick Torres. I told you I was an FBI agent assigned to monitor you, and I was telling the truth. I just quit my job. If you don’t believe me, or if you do and you want to talk, I’ll be at Sweet Science Coffee this afternoon. I’ll be the one with the muscles. 

Then he stands up from his desk for the last time and says goodbye to the J. Edgar Hoover Building.

________________

She doesn’t show up.

Nick sits at the coffee shop in NoMa sipping Guatemalan dark roast for two hours before eventually concluding that Ellie has no interest in meeting him. He understands, honestly—he stole her privacy for twelve long months, and that has to be hard to look past.

Doesn’t mean her absence doesn’t suck. 

As he leaves, though, he physically runs into her just outside the door. She stumbles and he reaches out automatically to steady her. “Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I—” she starts, and then cuts herself off. “Nick?”

He gives her a little grin; his heart is racing, and he’s not used to not being utterly confident around women. “The one and only,” he replies. “Nice to meet you in person, Ellie.”

She blinks at him. “Nice to meet you, too—I think?”

Nick chuckles, his hand rising up to scratch awkwardly at the back of his head. “I can understand the confusion. I wasn’t sure you’d come, actually. I waited for a while.”

Ellie gives him an incredulous look. “Well, that’s your own fault, isn’t it?”

Nick winces. “Yeah. I mean, I was just doing my job, but—”

“No, not that, you idiot. I mean that you texted you’d be here ‘this afternoon’. You never specified what time, and then you turned your stupid phone off!”

“I… Oops. Sorry, Ellie.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Why did you want to meet me, anyway? I was too curious to stay away.”

Nick gives her a look. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“If it was obvious, would I have asked?”

Nick rolls his eyes to the high heavens. He adores her, but she has a unique ability to try his patience. “You must be blind. Here, I’ll spell it out for you—I think I’ve been in love with you ever since you Googled how many potato chips you had to eat before it was lethal.”

“Oh.” Her voice is suddenly very small, and her eyes are suddenly very wide. 

Then she’s jumping at him and knocking him over as she presses her lips to his. 

His last thought before he gets lost in the utter bliss that is her kiss is that he’s going to have to make sure they serve potato chips at their wedding. 

[freegamingtheme]

Free gaming theme

Free gaming theme, gaming blog, review games or online games WordPress themes make the gaming website! The portal theme game has everything for correct function. Visitors can easily register within the club game. The search box is moved-to-top button is employed to develop the comfort of your website. Users must newsletter, blog and twitter section displays the newest posts and tweets can get new game updates. All the weather summarized during a single internet site design offers visitors an immersive gaming experience.

Subjects were developed for the sport website. The gaming WordPress themes will appreciate the straightforward navigation of impressive images and sites . the newest game is displayed within the header slider. Popular games are placed during a large banner. the remainder of the games are classified. you'll jump across different from one category with the assistance of the navigation tab of the sport WordPress template. The layout style may be a plane fashion. Button text is certainly drawing attention to them are often of red color.

Multi purpose Gaming WordPress Themes. It’s absolutely great for your clan or team page, game blog, game news, html5 games, lifestyle, broadcats, twitch streams. Also for players stats, reviews, table top, interviews, community, gameplay, clan, team, console, shooting,PC games, action, acrade, survival, action-adventure, adventure, role play, 4X game, strategy, tactical role play, simulation, wargame, vehicle and life simulation, sport, race, MMO, casual, mobile, party, logic, parlor game , parlor game , educational, christian.

Geco

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[katsens-writing]

Meeting the Team

Summary: You’re a SHIELD agent doing some research on your future co-workers... until you run into one of them.

Word Count: 2.1k (give or take a few)

Content: Fluff, maybe a little angst? Let me know if I need to add any!

A/N: This. This thing right here was supposed to be just a simple, short and sweet meet-cute. Three stories and three weeks later, I’m done. This and the second story, Meeting the Agent, are parallel running stories but you should read this one first. The third story is called Meeting the Sergeant. It should be read before or after Meeting the Team and Meeting the Agent. Let me know what you think! I might make more from it...

~

     As soon as you got through security at the museum, you went straight to the exhibit you were looking for. It’d been a while since you had been to the Smithsonian, but you knew the way from memory. You smiled wistfully as you walked past other familiar displays and cases. Weaving through them was like walking down memory lane for you. Finally reaching the exhibit you had come to see, you opened your notebook and pushed the brim of your black baseball cap up with the end of your pencil. You remembered the first time you went to see the Captain America exhibit with your mom. You must have been only four or five then, but you loved it so much that you wanted to go there for every birthday and special occasion. By the time you went to see it on a class trip, all the museum employees in that wing knew you by name. Eventually, you guys moved away when your mom was assigned to an embassy. You hadn’t been there in years when your mom heard from some old work friends back in D.C. that the Smithsonian had added an Avengers exhibit. As soon as she heard, she immediately booked some plane tickets to go see it opening day, as a surprise for your birthday. The second you saw it, your jaw dropped in awe. After walking through it you whipped around and told your mom that you were going to be an Avenger one day. You remembered your mother’s amused expression as you marched off to the Captain America exhibit.

     When you got your acceptance letter from the academy years later, you both jumped up and down screaming and crying. Just a month after that, you said goodbye to your mother and moved back to the States. Two years later, your mother wept in the audience as you walked across the stage to receive your badge from Nick Fury and shake his hand at the SHIELD induction ceremony. When you met her for lunch last week in Prague and told her about your new assignment with the Avengers, you could’ve sworn she was going to pass out. Now here you are in D.C., reading up on your future coworkers. You already knew so much about most of the team, but you wanted to refresh your memory before meeting them.

     You read over the story of Captain America again, even though you practically had it memorized even after all these years. As you walked through his exhibit, your eyes fell on the section dedicated to the Howling Commandos. You remembered hearing talks of the museum restoring the mural of Captain America and the Howling Commandos, so you quickly jotted down a reminder to check it out later before you moved over to the panel about them. You read through the brief articles on display about each of the commandos, for fun more than anything.

     ���Caporal Jaques “Frenchie” Dernier, France, born January 2, 1911. Explosives and demolitions expert. French resistance.’

     Frenchie? You thought with a smirk. How original.

     ‘Private Gabriel “Gabe” Jones, United States. Born August 14, 1918, in Macon, Georgia. Translator and Communications Specialist. United States Army, 92nd Infantry Division.’

     I remember learning about him in high school. You blinked thoughtfully. I think he was the one that arrested Zola.

     ‘Corporal Jim Morita, United States. Born October 20, 1919, in Fresno, California. Marksman and Medic. United States Army, Nisei Squadron.’

     Brigadier James Montgomery Falsworth, Great Britain. Born January 2, 1914, in Birmingham, England. Tactician and Marksman. British Armed Forces, 3rd Independent Parachute Brigade.

     Huh. He had two kids. You blinked, pleasantly surprised.

     ‘Sergeant Timothy Aloysius Cadwallader “Dum Dum” Dugan’.

     Your eyebrows rose a little and you tried to stifle a laugh but it ended up coming out as a small snort. That’s a mouthful. No wonder he went by Dum Dum Dugan.

     You kept reading. ‘United States, born April 11, 1912. Transport specialist. United States Army, 69th Infantry Regiment.’

     You tilted your head curiously at a series of panels you hadn’t seen before, covered in newspaper articles, headlines, and various official reports. Drawing closer, you realized they were a replacement for the old panel ‘A Fallen Comrade’. You began reading the first panel titled ‘James Buchanan Barnes: War Hero, Winter Soldier, Avenger’. You casually scanned the headlines and titles until one caught your attention. Your eyes widened in shock and you froze as you realized just what exactly you were reading-- you had been there.

     You had been working for SHIELD for almost a year when it fell. You were in the control room when Alexander Pierce ordered the manhunt for Captain America and declared him a fugitive. You were in that same room when Captain America revealed over the P.A. system that Hydra had taken over and you did everything you could to fight back, passively and physically. After the helicarriers were launched, you and your coworkers managed to retake the control room, but it was too late. You contacted the aerial commander and told him to gather all SHIELD pilots. You lowered your head, a wave of guilt washing over you. One of them must have been Hydra. They never made it off the ground. 

     You were literally forced to watch helplessly as Steve fought the Winter Soldier on the helicarrier and your heart stopped when you saw him plummeting to the earth, watching in horror as the fiery wreckage rained down upon him from the sky above. You were five floors below where one of the helicarriers crashed into the building. The impact was bone-shaking and caused your Hydra captor to stumble, allowing you to gain the upper hand. After subduing him, you grabbed his radio. Without hesitation or authority, you took charge and immediately organized and coordinated search and rescue teams. You scattered the teams all over the SHIELD compound, the river, and its banks to look for any survivors, before joining one yourself. Now with SHIELD reforming, you were one of the first agents to return. After having already proven your loyalty, you were an easy choice for your new assignment.

     You shook your head to clear your thoughts. ‘James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, aka the Winter Soldier, possibly the world’s deadliest assassin and Hydra’s greatest weapon and asset.’

     You winced as you read that part. Why did they have to include that? You wondered. He’s not some tank or fighter jet.

     You continued reading. ‘Originally suspected in the terrorist attack on the Sokovia Accords Summit that led to the deaths of many ambassadors and political figures, Barnes was later found to be innocent, another victim of the real culprit, Sokovian nationalist Baron Zemo.’

     Your eyes narrowed as you read exactly how much the article had on the summit bombing. You were one of the few who knew the whole story. After SHIELD had fallen, you went to work for Stark Industries, where you met up once again with Maria Hill. When the news came out naming Barnes as a suspect in the bombing, you were one of those assigned to keep tabs on Steve, though you never found anything... as far as anyone knew. When Maria quietly slipped off the grid without a word to anybody, you were the only one to notice, and you made sure of that by covering her tracks.

     You never really believed that Stark honestly expected you to turn in Steve if you located him, not when he knew your history. He knew how painful it was for you to track Steve and how it reminded you of when Hydra had taken over SHIELD. He knew that for you it felt just as wrong tracking Steve then as it had before, yet he still assigned you to the task. You smiled to yourself, in spite of the painful memories. You would never forget the day when Tony received the call saying everyone had escaped from the Raft; you could hear Ross yelling at him on the phone from two rooms away before Tony sauntered into the main office with a barely concealed grin on his face. He definitely looked far more amused than he should have, considering.

     After you finished reading the new panels, your eyes drifted back to another old one about James. ‘Born in 1917, James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes was the oldest of four kids. He lived in Brooklyn where he was an excellent athlete and student. He enlisted in the Army shortly after the attack on Pearl Harbor and was assigned to the 107th. His unit was sent to the Italian front where they were captured by Hydra. Separated from his unit, Barnes was starved and tortured...’

     You blinked your eyes and looked away; you knew what happened after that. Your eyes fell on a display of pictures of Captain America, Bucky, and the Howling Commandos. You drifted over to it. Scanning the pictures, you couldn’t help but smile as your eyes fell on one of Steve and Bucky at one of the allied camps. They were standing side by side with lopsided grins, but Barnes looked like he’d just woken up from a nap.

     “Ugh, of all the pictures they had...” you jumped at the sudden voice behind you and spun around to find a man shaking his head, looking down at the ground. “They just had to pick that one.”

     The man lifted his head, revealing his face that had been hidden by the brim of a grey baseball cap, and your eyes fell on a familiar lopsided grin accompanied by a pair of startlingly blue eyes. The man looked a little embarrassed. Your own eyes widened and your mouth opened slightly in surprise.

     “Bucky!” you gasped softly.

     The former assassin just stared at you blankly for a moment. Realizing what you had done, your face reddened in embarrassment. You began to apologize, but Bucky simply waved it off. Shaking his head with a grin, he reassured you.

     “No, it’s ok, really. People just don’t usually recognize me.” His smile faded slowly as his eyes shifted to the notebook in your hands, tilting his head curiously.

     You looked down at the notebook you had forgotten you were holding and quickly pulled it closer to yourself, realizing how you must look. “It's just some research I’m doing for work,” you quickly offered.

     Bucky’s face scrunched in thought before it lit up. “You must be the new SHIELD agent assigned to the compound.”

     “Yeah, I am,” you replied, relaxing a little, but still a bit uneasy.

     “I thought you weren’t due in until next week?” Bucky looked at you, still curious.

     “Well, I wanted to get some research in. I like to learn a bit about who I’m going to be working with,” you shrugged, a little embarrassed but not apologetic. Looking into coworkers was a habit you had formed in the aftermath of SHIELD falling, out of caution and perhaps a little guilt. You had been caught off guard and you vowed you weren’t going to let that happen again.

     “Well that makes sense,” he nodded thoughtfully, almost like he understood what you were thinking. He shook his head lightly and with another lopsided grin, he held out his hand. “I’m James Buchanan Barnes. Or Bucky.”

     You took his hand and shook it, your gaze rising to meet his with the slightest hint of awe. “Y/N. Agent Y/N Y/L/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

     “Y/N,” Bucky repeated, a smile growing on his face. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

     You lowered your eyes to the notebook in your hand, fidgeting awkwardly. Bucky cleared his throat, almost making you jump again.

     “Well Y/N, if you have any questions, I’d be happy to help. The information here isn’t exactly complete...” his voice trailed off.

     “I noticed,” you replied, glancing to the side at the section about the bombing at the summit. Clearing your throat, you turned back to Bucky. “They don’t really have anything on Black Widow or Hawkeye.” That didn’t really surprise you, after all, what good is a spy with their face on display at one of the world’s busiest museums?

     Bucky arched an eyebrow with only the slightest hesitation. “Well, if you would like, I can fill you in on the team.” He glanced down at his watch then rubbed the back of his neck before completely throwing away caution. “Heck, I can even introduce you to some of them if you want.”

     Bucky looked up at you and grinned again, his eyes shining, and you just couldn’t help the smile spreading on your own face as your shoulders relaxed. “I would appreciate that, thank you.”

     Bucky looked down at his watch again. “Great, I’m meeting Clint- that’s Hawkeye- for lunch in an hour. You’re welcome to come,” he looked up at you and hesitated. “In the meantime, have you seen the Howling Commandos memorabilia exhibit?”

     You nodded. “Yeah, it’s been a while though. Are you sure Clint won’t mind the extra company at lunch?”

     “He’ll get over it,” Bucky replied with a grin and you couldn’t resist a small chuckle. Turning back to the direction of the memorabilia display, Bucky nods his head. “Shall we?”

     With a smile you walked alongside the super soldier, laughing and asking questions as he told stories about the items on display. You may not have learned much about the team like you had wanted to that day, but as it turned out, you learned more than you could have ever hoped.

[jfmesq]

YOI Home Zine: a little piece of my story

Hey people!

Here’s a promo scene of my fic “Lusco Fusco” for the Okaeri Zine @yoihomezine. I hope you like it!

The days passed smoothly in the apartment. Victor and Yuuri had their own routines and job schedules, but they still had breakfast and dinner together, when Victor didn’t invite Yuuri to have lunch in some nice restaurant too.

In the mornings and evenings, they took turns on walking Vicchan (even if Yuuri said it wasn’t Victor’s responsibility, making Victor “humpf” at him and go through the door talking excitedly with the little dog), and many times they even walked him together, when Yuuri needed to go to the drugstore or the grocery store and Victor kindly showed him the way, insisted on acting as his translator too. Yuuri even suspected Victor picked only the farther places so that their walk would take longer. Now that Victor had given Vicchan a pet winter coat (a lot of them, actually), he was safe to stay longer in the cold.

Besides these moments together, they stayed separated during most of the day-light hours. After Victor left for work, Yuuri opened his laptop to go through virtual newspapers, specially the sports sections, his job area. Then he checked his emails and started to work on the assignments of the magazines, blogs and news websites he wrote for.

A couple of days after arriving in Victor’s apartment, Yuuri’s fingers suddenly stopped moving automatically through the keyboard while answering an email, his thoughts straying to his beautiful “roommate” and what he must be doing at that exact moment.

Yuuri opened a new tab on the browser and typed the name of Victor’s website written on the card Victor gave him. The homepage showed a lot of pet products, and not only for dogs and cats: cages for rabbits and hamsters in the form of houses with various architecture styles, flavored ropes for rodents, fluffy and colorful beds made of lots of different materials, toys with every color, shape and texture one could imagine, the most adorable houses and washbasins for garden birds, wonderful decoration for aquariums and countless other creative things. Yuuri was amazed by what he saw.

Then he went to the “About” page and found some info about the company, products and stuff. By what he read, the company was hired by the best pet brands on the market to design creative and innovative products for them. Their portfolio was really huge, and Yuuri only thought they might be very successful with what they did.

There were three partners: Victor was the creative brain behind the products. A man named Chris Giacometti was responsible for the the sales. And there was also a woman named Mila Babicheva, the PR Rep. Together, the three of them were the face and soul of the company.

Scrolling down, he stopped when he found a photograph of the company’s founders and almost fell from the stool: the crazy red-haired girl who pushed Yuuri and Vicchan into Victor’s apartment was in the photo, and each one of them was holding their own pet by what the subtitle said. “It can’t be!!!” Yuuri said out loud! So that was how she knew Victor and had a key to his apartment. She wasn’t just a simple neighbor… she was his business partner, Mila Babicheva! It made sense now!

In the picture, Mila had a white cockatoo perched on her right shoulder, with a salmon-red crown of ruffled feathers over the head and the beak touching Mila’s cheek like it was kissing her. Chris, the partner Yuuri didn’t know in person, had a smirk on his face and his white fluffy cat with big blue eyes wrapped around his neck, the tail cascading over his shoulder like he was wearing a fur scarf. And Victor was in the center with long strands of silver hair falling over one side of his body, and holding a standard brown poodle with a lolling tongue out of her mouth. It was Makkachin, Yuuri was sure.

Victor had a big bright smile on his face, and somehow Yuuri felt like this Victor on the picture was different from the Victor he knew. No matter how much Victor smiled now, Yuuri hadn’t felt the contagious joy he transmitted on the screen, and it was like those two men were not the same person at all. Maybe they weren’t.

                                                TO BE CONTINUED...

[neo---blue]

HAMATORA THE NOVEL pt.I - Things More Important Than Money (ENGLISH TRANSLATION)

H therei!! d (ba-sudei) and avery (@minimums​) here! finally finished translating the first part of hamatora the novel! but before anything, please, please, please read this!

although we opted not to state this on our official foreword, both avery and i felt it shouldn't remain unsaid. please remember that this is a fan translation first and foremost, as well as something we put a lot of time and effort into. it is a fan translation because we are fans of hamatora, and felt that even all these years later the material deserved to come to light. yes, it is 2018, and not 2014. we know what year this is, and we are fans anyway. hamatora had its shortcomings, flaws, inconsistencies, and issues, just like every other series in existence. however, we both felt that since our love for it remains, translating would be “better late than never.” and while we hope that others still feel the same, we understand many won’t— and don't. if like us you still love hamatora, please enjoy our efforts! if you don't, all we can ask is that you please don't dismiss, make fun of, or dampen them. translating is not easy, and certainly neither is creating a series. so, without further ado, please enjoy Hamatora the Novel part 1!

ハマトラTHE NOVEL - I. 金より大事なもの 【英訳】 HAMATORA THE NOVEL PART I - Things More Important Than Money (ENGLISH TRANSLATION) 

under the cut~ (there’s also a download link to a pdf!! still, please reblog and spread the word!)

[DOWNLOAD LINK - Mobile-Friendly PDF]   ^ highly recommended over reading it on here!  Foreword from the Scanlators (scans by minimums, translation by ba-sudei)

✢

"hi, i'm avery, aka minimums on tumblr or gayhacker on ao3. i did the scans! hamatora is a series that has meant a lot to me for a while now, and still very much does. i originally bought the novel for the poster that came with it; i had no idea anything like this would ever come out of that purchase, but i'm so glad it did! D has put in a lot of hard work with the translation, so please enjoy hamatora the novel part 1!"

✢                                

“hi~ d here , aka ba-sudei on tumblr and d_n__ on twitter! i translated this thing!! avery’s worked really hard to make sure the scans were clear for me and has been helpful overall and i can’t thank him enough! i wish i could promise an accurate translation— but, all i can promise is that i truly did my best to make this translation a good quality one. this goes without saying, but i have loved (and suffered much for) hamatora since 2014, and i’m still here. i’ll always be here. i hope this translation helps rekindle your love for hamatora! so please enjoy hamatora the novel part i!!”

✢

✢ please feel free to get in touch with us on our socials ! ✢

✢ ✢ ✢

      “Now then, shall we work hard today, too?”

    The boy with bandages on his face and headphones around his neck spoke loudly to a girl. His name is Nice; he’s a detective.

      The girl’s name is Koneko. She is the broker of requests for Hamatora Detective Agency, which operates under Nice and his partner. She is also the owner of Cafe Nowhere, where Hamatora Detective Agency have set up their office on one of their tables.

       “Any requests come in today?”

    Nice asked Koneko with a lively tone and a smile on his face, forgetting the sad reality that the few coins in his pocket were literally all he had.

      Koneko's ponytail swung as she smiled and slightly tilted her head.

     “None.”

      It wasn’t surprising, but Nice still doubted her answer; the smile he unconsciously had on his face fell and his expression became serious.

     “Seriously?”

       “Seriously.”

       “Why?!”

    “Who knows...”

    Despite Nice’s franticness, Koneko’s smile didn’t falter.     The nerve on Koneko’s temple twitched but not because of Nice’s moodiness.

     “By the way, Nice-kun. When do I get anything out of lending you a table for your office?”

       “Uh, uhhhh...” Nice nervously looked around the interior of Nowhere.

      Over the counter was a man polishing a cup, the cafe’s master.

    Master is the one who stands in the kitchen and cooks food on the menu, while Koneko, the owner, is in charge of customer service and miscellaneous affairs.

    Master continued to work in silence, purposely trying not to meet Nice’s eyes.

      In front of Master on a seat across the counter was a girl drinking milk. She’s an assistant of the Hamatora Detective Agency— or so she’s supposed to be. But at the moment she was becoming a mascot instead. She is Hajime.

    Hajime finished her milk then held out her cup towards Master.

     “Seconds. You can charge it on Nice-kun’s tab.”

       “...Nice’s tab is just about all piled up, though.”

    Master took the cup and refilled it with milk before handing it back to Hajime.

      Hajime moved the cup towards Nice lazily.

    “Thanks for the meal. Cheers.”

       “Wait, wait, don't cheers to this, Hajime-chan! I haven’t had anything to eat since last night!”

       “Poor thing,” Hajime said with blandly, and began to drink the milk.

      Nice slumped his shoulders, turning his gaze towards a table in the back, where a young man wearing glasses was seated and looking through the newspaper. His name is Murasaki. He is Nice's partner.

      Murasaki, through his glasses, fixed Nice with a cold look.

    “Nice. Can’t you tell that you’re suffering the consequences of your actions?”

       “I can tell... but what did I do?”

      Nice looked clueless. Good grief, Murasaki sighed.     “Before this, who was it that turned down the request to investigate an affair?”

      “I did.”

      “And before that, who was it that turned down the request to do background checks for a delinquent high school student?”

   “I did?”

     “Not to mention, before that, who was it that, when a lady who was having trouble with a stalker following her around came and begged for something to be done, sent her away saying ‘you can do something about that yourself’?”

       “Ah, you make it sound so harsh! It was just a lovers’ quarrel, they shouldn’t involve other people to solve their problems for them. You think so, too, right, Koneko?”

    Nice waited for Koneko to nod and agree with him, but Koneko only looked away.

       “I don’t know about that.”

       “...Huh? Does that mean I got that wrong?”

       “See, that’s what I’m talking about.  You’re in your current situation because you’re always so picky with the requests you take. If that’s not suffering the consequences of your actions, then what is it?”

       “Okay, but even so. This is work after all, I wouldn’t do that to people who are seriously in trouble. Everyone I turned down was just requesting stuff for their own convenience. It’s not a big deal if I don’t help them, is it?”

       “I guessed that would be your reasoning. You mean that it shouldn’t be acceptable in this society.”

       “It’s a sad society, really.”

       “Can't deny that society is sad— Another woman seems to have gone missing.”

    Murasaki put the newspaper down onto the table and tapped an article lightly with the back of his hand.

      Nice went over to Murasaki's side to have a look at the newspaper.

    “Another one?”

      In this town, Yokohama, girls have continuously been going missing.

    Whether these cases were plotted or coincidental was unclear. The commonalities among the missing people were that they were young and attractive; there seemed to be absolutely no correlation among their workplaces, schools, and relationships.

       “Yeah, this is the fifth one already. Looks like it’s a high school girl this time. She’s said to have gone missing two days ago.”

        “Two days ago...? Maybe she’s just been staying over at a friend’s place or something?”

     “Things would be fine if that were the case. But there are some short articles in the newspaper that say that the family was set on reporting it to the police.”

        “As an incident?”

        “It’s not a job for us detectives, an investigation like that. It’s for the police.”

        “The police, huh... I wonder if Art’s busy right now.”

     Art. He is a young man Nice has been keeping company with for a long time.

     Art is a police officer from the Yokohama police department. After graduating from a special educational institution with outstanding achieve-ments, he continued to make extraordinary efforts and became the police superintendent at quite a young age.

       “I wonder if Art’s having some trouble.”

       “Art might not be the one put directly in charge of the continuous disappearance of those girls. Besides, he’s excellent, so I don’t think he’d be having any trouble.”

      “That's true,” Nice agreed, knowing Art as a guy who’s overcome all his difficulties with sheer effort; he’s one of the few people that Nice can respect from the bottom of his heart.

     “I can tell that that guy’s working hard. Looks like I don’t need to worry that much after all.”

    Nice cleared his throat and went silent. The rest of the inside of the cafe quieted, too, until the sound of the television took over for everyone to hear. There was a variety show airing.

       ‘We are inside a shopping mall in Yokohama. There is an exhibit by Aomiya-san, a doll-maker who’s been much-talked-about lately. Since today is the last day, the venue is packed.’

    voiced the reporter. Nice and company turned their eyes towards the television.

    The event space was in a familiar shopping mall nearby, and it was decorated with many life-size dolls. They were all female dolls in luxurious gothic-style dresses.

     ‘Look at the infamous lifelike dolls, they look like they’ll start moving any second now! Aomiya-san’s work is going to be auctioned at New York this year, and many bidders are ready to bid over a hundred million yen!’

      Next to the reporter introducing the dolls appeared a strange-looking young man.

    The man had hung several marionettes, the type one can manipulate with strings throughout their bodies.

    The reporter introduced this man who had a strange, confident smile on his face:

     ‘The world-famous doll-maker Aomiya-san has arrived! It’s a pleasure to have you here today despite your busy schedule. ’

       ‘It’s no problem. This is an opportunity to propagate my aesthetics, so the pleasure is all mine.’

    Aomiya brushed his hair out of his forehead with one hand; it was a gesture that made him look like a decent man.  That motion bumped into several marionettes, making a dry sound.

       “That's some weird fashion. Do you think he lives like that?”

    Nice quipped. Murasaki replied indifferently,

     “It’s probably part of the production, since he’s a doll-maker and all. Can’t say it’s a good hobby, though.”

      Hajime, uninterested, averted her eyes from the television and continued to drink her milk.

      Koneko smiled wryly and opened her mouth,     “It stands out, so isn’t that a good thing? You can’t go wrong with it, it’s a famous doll exhibit.”

      “Koneko, do you want to go?” Nice asked.

      “No, not really... Actually, dolls that look just like humans are a little creepy...”

      “Creepy?”

      “Uhhm, you know. Isn’t it like those urban legends? Where they dress up human beings to make them living dolls... O— of course, I don’t believe in such urban legends.”

    Koneko quickly shook her hands in front of her face as if to cover her expression. Nice chuckled.

      “I won’t laugh at you whether you believe those or not. But hm... Living dolls, huh?”

    Nice stared at the lifelike dolls next to Aomiya.

    The man called Aomiya was talking about something proudly, but his voice didn’t reach Nice’s ears.

      “—You’re right. It does give off a strange vibe. Plus it’s creepy and spooky.”

    It was when Nice coughed a small cough that the cafe door clicked and the bell on it rang.

      It seemed someone had arrived. Everyone except the one who was paying attention only to her milk saw who it was.

      There came a woman who was slightly overweight and dressed in brand.

    She looked to be in her forties; she held what looked like a branded handbag and wore unfashionable glasses with gilded rims and metal carvings.

    She raised her glasses above her eyes with a hand and surveyed the store restlessly.

     “I heard that the detective called Hamatora would be here.”

      “Oh, if you’re looking for Hamatora, that’s us.”

    Nice confidently raised his hand. The woman’s eyes widened behind her glasses; she was visibly doubtful.

    “...You?”

    The woman seemed to have thought ill of Nice’s appearance for a reason or another.

      When Nice noticed, he felt an instant irritation. Before Nice could say anything in retaliation, Murasaki had raised his hand after folding the newspaper and straightening his back.

     “Do you have a request? If that’s so, you can talk with me.”

    Unlike Nice, Murasaki is able to read the mood when it comes to others and phrase himself accordingly. This is a testament to his maturity.

      The woman initially looked at Murasaki from head to toe with contempt.

    Murasaki and Nice both wear street-style clothes, but thanks to his glasses, Murasaki appears more honest in disposition. The aggression disappeared from the woman’s eyes.

     “So there is someone here who I can talk with properly. Good.”

      “Then, have a seat,” Murasaki gestured to the table, inviting her.

      ‘Good’ my ass, Nice muttered, leaving the table abruptly and plopping down next to Hajime by the counter.

    “Piss off,” Nice grumbled in a whisper. Now now, Koneko hushed him in a low voice.

      The woman sat down on a chair Murasaki had pulled out for her, and did not even wait until Murasaki could seat himself opposite her before she started talking:

    “I want you to search for my daughter. You can do it, right?”

    While the woman was saying this highhandedly, Murasaki took his seat, unfazed.

      “A person-search request, I see. Of course, we can accept it. Could you share with me the specific circumstances?”

      The woman fidgeted and leaned towards Murasaki.

    “My daughter hasn’t come home in two days, and you know! You’ve heard of it, too, haven’t you? Of the cases of beautiful daughters going missing in this neighborhood. I’m almost sure, she must have gotten involved in an incident like that...”

    She continued without pausing for breath,

    “If she got caught up in that incident, oh, what will I do? This is why I don’t let her to go out even with her friends. Recently, though only once in a while, she’d be a little late to her curfew and I didn’t think much of it, but if the friend she went out with was a man, it could’ve been the criminal of the incident—”

    she kept rambling to Murasaki.

      “Ah, please calm down—”

      “How can I calm down—?! If I knew this was going to happen, I would’ve made her attend an all-girl’s school all this time from kindergarten! Why is such a thing happening to me? If I lose that child, whatever will I do—?”

    The woman was on the verge of a breakdown. As if to change the flow of the conversation, Murasaki picked up the newspaper he’d folded and set aside to spread it in front of her.

      “For now, could you read this article? Is it possible that perhaps your daughter is the one mentioned on this article about a missing person?”

      The woman fixed the position of her glasses and skimmed across the newspaper article. She seemed to regain composure.

    “Y—yes, that’s right. I also reported it to the police, but I couldn’t just stand still so I came here.”

    The woman pulled out an envelope from her handbag. It was considerably thick.

    “For the retainer fee and advanced payment for necessary expenses, I’ll deposit this much. I can guarantee twice this amount once my daughter is found safe and sound.”

      Koneko was the first to react to how thick the envelope was. She lit up, enthusiastically putting her hands together by her chest.

    “With just that, you could already pay off everything accumulated under your tab...”

      “Can’t be helped,” Master said, unmoving.

      Murasaki shifted his focus to Nice.

   “We’ll accept this request, okay—?”

     “No thanks.”

    Nice shot back instantly. Murasaki stood up, his chair skidding.

     “You’re still saying that? Just what on earth about this doesn’t sit right with you?”

      Nice spoke past Murasaki to the client:

    “Hey, just wondering. Haven’t you thought that your daughter going missing might just be her going out with a friend?”

      “Of course I have. In that case I would have asked her for her friend’s name!”

    the woman answered testily.

     “You probably don’t think about how your daughter feels. Don’t you think she felt suffocated at home and ran away?”

      “Suffocated? Impossible. She’s my only child and I care for her, I’ve given her a life without inconvenience. I let her take any class she wants, I give her enough pocket money. What else could she complain about?”

      “...That so?”

    It was all Nice said back, before getting up from the bar stool and heading for the exit of the cafe.

      “Hey, Nice!”

    Without looking back, Nice waved Murasaki off after hearing him.

      “You can handle it, Murasaki. I’ll go look for a job by myself.”

    He likes to have it his way, Nice heard Murasaki explain, but went on outside without stopping.

    He raised his arms and stretched them.

    “Having to breathe the same air as her feels so suffocating. Her daughter probably couldn’t breathe.”

    Anyway, Nice recollected his thoughts and headed out.

       “Even a detective can walk around without running into trouble. Well, at least for now, it’s peaceful like usual...”

    Fuwah, Nice yawned, as he strolled along the river that leads to the sea.

      The river flows under an elevated highway, and the riverbank is fortified by concrete, so it’s not very windy. On the far end of the boulevard across the river is the famous Yokohama Chinatown. Nice was walking from a back street along the river, a few minutes away from the bridge.

      “Guess I'll go to Chinatown. Where there’s a bunch of people, there’s bound to be some work!”

      Chinatown is well-known as the place to get meat buns. There are shops that sell steamed meat buns with shrimp, and fresh fruits. It’s a place where one can get good food anywhere.

      I’m starving, Nice groaned, thrusting a hand into his pocket.

    Nice felt the shapes of the coins with his fingers to count them, then hung his head.

    “...No good. It’s all I have, it’ll all be gone if I buy a meat bun. But eating that’ll keep me full for longer. It’s the only choice I have!”

    Nice raised his head with a bitter smile. Suddenly, he noticed a cruiser mooring close to the bank.

      It was a huge cruiser, one that looked like it could go out into the open sea. It just barely passed the bridge.

      “Is it really alright to stop a ship around here in this river? Won’t it break down like that? Ah, I mean, I’m sure a ship like that’s freaking expensive... I heard that even an ordinary one would cost a couple hundred million yen. I wonder what kind of guys buy that kind of... Ah— At the very least, I bet they don’t have to think about money all the time. I want to be like that so I can eat meat buns without worrying. Maybe I’ll go see the ocean for a change of pace.”

    Nice decided to ditch Chinatown for the sea; nearby is a park where one can look out into the ocean.

    He went on over to the wide crossing. Past it is the entrance to the park he was headed to.

      The pedestrian signals were red; Nice stopped walking when he saw it.

    Right next to Nice was a little girl he hadn’t noticed.  She was wearing a black dress that matched her long hair, with red shoes. Her height just barely reached Nice’s hip, and she looked like she was about kindergarten age.

    Her skin was so white it seemed almost transparent, and her features were remarkably fair. It all made her body up to look quite delicate.

      Kinda looks like a doll. That was Nice’s first impression of the little girl.

      Though the little girl was expressionless, she was looking all around her. She seemed to be looking for someone.

      Nice looked around the area as well. On the other end of the pedestrian crossing, there was a young boy, even smaller than the little girl, playing with what looked like a vinyl ball.

    “Hey, isn’t it a little dangerous to be playing with a ball on the sidewalk?”

    Nice had thought in that moment to call out even if he was all the way across the street.

      The ball rolled into the pavement, and the boy playing with it ran after it, not seeming to care that the pedestrian signals were red.

      “I said don’t play there!"

      Beside Nice who was surprised, a small shadow moved. Moving like she was weightless, the little girl came rushing onto the pedestrian lane, all the while the signals were still red.

      “Hey!!”

    Out of the corner of his eye, Nice spotted a large truck coming.

      When the truck caught sight of the young girl, the horn honked as the brakes screeched.

    But it was too late— it was obvious what was coming next.

      At this rate, the little girl was going to be hit by the truck right in front of Nice—

    Without missing a beat, Nice put on his headphones and snapped his fingers.

    The sound from his headphones drowned out the horn, and for a moment the world stopped moving.

      Everything stood still in an instant, the truck, the little girl— even the leaves falling from the trees by the street.

    The special ability Nice possessed, <Speed of Sound Minimum>, was activated.

      There exists a special ability that only a handful of people are naturally born with.

    A small miracle— a Minimum.

    That is, an ‘extraordinary individuality’ actualized.

    A person with a Minimum Ability is called a Minimum Holder, and Nice is one of them.

      With <Speed of Sound Minimum>, up to 5 meters from the activation point, Nice can run as if he were side by side with sound.

    But it goes by in the blink of an eye for anyone else.

      In a world where everything was stopped, Nice sprinted into the pedestrian crossing, grabbing the little girl less than a mere meter away from the truck’s bumper.

    —Isn’t this kid awfully light?

    With this iffy feeling, and with all his might, Nice flew forward. Right after this, the world started moving again.

      Once the sound of the truck brakes faded, surprised voices rang out:

    “Wha— what!? She disappeared!”

    “Wah—!”

      The road was more than five meters wide— more than Nice can use his Minimum.

    Nice would have been hit by another car on the other lane if he hadn’t made haste cutting across the pedestrian lane. But as he did, he kicked up the ball rolling by and started dribbling it like he would a football.

      It was only by the time Nice had gone past the pedestrian crossing that the car came to a complete stop. The driver shouted at him:

     “You idiot, you wanna fucking die?!”

      “No friggin’ way—”

    At Nice’s retort, the driver honked his horn even louder.

      The little boy who was playing with the ball was sitting on the curb of the street. His face was twisted in shock.

     “Wh-wh-what-t what—”

    The little boy got on his feet with a start and burst into tears.

      “Ah, I didn’t do anything!”

    the driver cried irresponsibly, starting his car and fleeing.

      Confused, Nice forgot all about putting down the little girl he was holding.

    “Hey, I won’t know what to do if you cry like that, you know?”

    Nice took the ball he was dribbling and passed it deftly towards the chest of the crying boy in a loose arc.

      The boy caught it quickly, still in tears.

      “My child, why are you crying?!”came a woman’s hysterical voice from beside them. Nice saw a young woman with gaudily-done makeup making her way towards them with heavy steps. She seemed to be the mother of the little boy.

      “Oh, no, I didn’t make him cry—”

      “But he’s definitely crying! And just now I saw you kick the ball with your feet!”

    The woman lifted the little boy, moving him away from Nice.

       “No, that’s— I mean, I did kick the ball, but that’s not why he’s crying—”

     “God, young people these days sure are rotten, bullying little children like this.  I’m calling the police right now, don’t move!”

    she spat, holding her child and stomping away.

      “What’s with that woman? If she cares about her child so much, she shouldn’t let him play ball in a place like this!”

    Nice muttered, finally thinking to let the little girl down. But as he did, she clutched onto Nice’s clothes, refusing to let go.

    “Guess there’s no way around it. It’ll be annoying if the police come, so why don’t we escape while we can?”

    Still carrying the little girl, Nice made a beeline for the park.

      In the park facing the sea, there’s a terminal for boarding pleasure cruises. Anchored right next to it is a large cargo ship that people can visit for observations or field trips any time.

    There weren’t many people in the park. From the nearby boulevard, one could hear the sound of cars passing by and sea birds chirping, making it a relaxing atmosphere.

      Nice deemed their position to be far away enough from the crossing. He settled beside the fountain in the center of the park and drew a breath.

    “Hah. Whew. I wonder if the police can track us all the way over here... But, well, as long as you’re here you can tell them about what actually happened, right?”

      “Yo, broke detective. You having so much trouble getting anything to eat these days that you switched jobs to kidnapping?”

    said a teasing voice. Hearing these words, Nice panicked and whipped around.

    There, he found a man wearing sunglasses, a thin smile playing on his lips.

      It was someone Nice has gotten along with for a long time. His name is Birthday; he works as a handyman.

      “Don’t talk shit about people like that, Birthday. Who the heck are you calling a kidnapper?!”

      “Well of course, you, Nice.”

      “You’ve got it all wrong. This kid was about to get run over by a truck, I just helped her. Right?”     Nice prompted, putting down the little girl he’d been carrying. She wordlessly tilted her head.

    “You were thinking of helping that kid with the ball earlier, too, right? That was really reckless, damn.”

      The little girl did not respond to anything Nice was saying. She only looked up at Nice, staring, completely expressionless.

    Her eyes were so pure and clear that Nice felt like he could be sucked into them when he saw his reflection.

    Feeling disarmed, Nice looked away. Then Birthday questioned him,

      “By the way, who is this cute little kid?”

      “No idea.”

      “Then, it’s a case of a lost child, isn’t it? If it’s like than, then leave it to Birthday-sama!”

    Birthday sucked in a rough breath and puffed his chest out proudly.

      “The heck are you acting all high and mighty for now?”

      “From little girls to older women, I’m a friend to every lady, didn’t you hear?”

      “Oh yeah? And what if the lost child was a boy?”

      “A boy? Well, a man must overcome difficulties on his own, of course!”

    Birthday exclaimed with a laugh, crouching down to be in level with the little girl. Still expressionless, the little girl tilted her head in the opposite direction.

    “Hello, little lady. First things first, come closer. Yup, yup.”

    Birthday closed his hand and presented it to her.

    Then he opened it to reveal small flowers. They looked like toy flowers.

      The little girl peered at the flowers but did nothing more. She remained expressionless.

      “Huh? You didn’t like that? Then, how about this?”

    He closed his hands around the flowers then held them wide open the next moment.

    There appeared little flags, the ones that looked like they would come on children’s meals. Out of nowhere, Nice laughed.

      “Ahaha, what a shabby magic trick—”

      “Nice, you bastard, it’s not cool to say shit like that!”

    Embarrassed and turning red, Birthday rushed to get back up.

      The little girl was still expressionless, and though subtle, she was trembling. She seemed surprised.

      “Birthday.  Is it me or did you just make her uncomfortable? Not a friend to ‘every lady’ now, are we?”

      “Tsk,” Birthday clicked his tongue. He plastered his smile back on and looked at the little girl.

     “Sorry, sorry. Don’t get mad, OK? From now on, I’ll only give my best, so could you please cheer up?”

      The little girl blinked. Though she was still expressionless, there appeared to be expectation in her eyes.

      “Your best, huh?” Nice mocked.

      “It’s gonna be good, so just watch.”

    From the pocket of his pants, Birthday slowly slipped out something that resembled a rope. There were countless LED lights attached to a wire cable; they were used to decorate Christmas trees.

    “And here—”Birthday threw the lights up and twirled, swinging it as if it were a rhythmic gymnastics ribbon, turning round and round until it was wrapped around him.

    Then, with his empty hand, Birthday took a stun-gun from somewhere.

    “Here it goes!! Ahm—”

    Birthday had opened his mouth wide and put the stungun in it, then switched it on. A zap, then there was electricity— Birthday’s hair stood on end for a moment.

    Lightning coiled around the hand he was using to hold the wire, then all at once the decorative LED lights lit up.

      Using <Electric Shock Minimum>, Birthday can freely manipulate and amplify electricity through his body. Just like Nice, he is a Minimum Holder.

      Nice and Birthday have known each other since they were much younger. When they were kids, they met at Facultas, a top academy and educational institution that gathers Minimum Holders and gives them special training.

    Both of them dropped out of the Academy— Birthday for health reasons, and Nice for his own reasons.

      Teeth to the stun-gun, Birthday made a cocky face.

    “Fhowizt, cuztomwahn—!”

      “How is it, customer-san? is what he said. Should just friggin’ take the stun-gun out.”

    Nice commented. Birthday lowered his stun-gun, striking a pose as the decorations sparkled with electricity.

      “What do you think now, Nice? Right now I’m shining just like a human Christmas tree!”

      “It’s not shining anymore, though. Looks like she’s not buying it.”

     “For real—?”

    Birthday looked back at the little girl in dismay. Despite having a curious look in her eyes, she was still expressionless.

      “Maybe if it were actually Christmas, she’d take it, don’t you think, Birthday?”

      “To think that even this won’t work...  She’s so hard to please, this little girl. A world where I can’t even make children laugh— it’s just so damn sad...”     After saying a such a lofty thing, Birthday fell to his knees.

      “Let me take it from here, Birthday! I want to make children laugh, too.”

    Nice held his hand out to Birthday. Birthday grasped it tightly.

      “...I’ll leave this to you. If anyone can find the perfect quick trick, it’d be Nice-kun, ‘Hama’s laughingstock!”

      “Who are you calling a laughingstock? Don’t friggin’ call me that.”

    Nice complained, smiling anyway. He stuffed a hand into his pocket and took all the coins there, then opened his palm in front of the little girl.

    “Here. Two one-hundred-yen coins, one fifty-yen coin, and three ten-yen coins. This is all I have right now.”

      “That’s a pathetic amount, you can’t even use it to buy a meat bun in Chinatown.  Even a meat bun is about three hundred yen.”

    dissed Birthday. Nice countered,

      “Sometimes you can get it by haggling! Don’t say useless things!”

      Fine, fine, Birthday backed off, shrugging his shoulders.

      Nice shifted his gears, speaking to the little girl again:

     “Ah, well... This money is super important to me. It’s something you should never let go. Do you understand?”

      After a short pause and a gulp, the little girl nodded.

    “That’s why, this money will never go away. Even if you do something like this!”

    Nice gripped the coins then tossed them all up in the air.

      The little girl’s round eyes watched the coins fly towards the sky.

    While she was distracted, Nice put on his headphones.     She could only watch as all the coins fell from the sky, to a distance Nice’s hands could reach.

      —Perfect. I calculated correctly. Throwing them upwards was a good idea.

    Nice snapped his fingers and activated his <Speed of Sound Minimum>.

    Right when the coins stopped falling, the water fountain behind Nice also froze, like a crystal sculpture.

    Nice plucked the coins out of the air one by one. With the last coin in Nice’s hand, the water in the fountain started moving again. The Minimum’s effect had run out.

    Nice took off his headphones and offered his closed fist to the girl, opening it with a tada!

    On his palm were the exact same number of coins he’d shown her earlier.

    “See? Something important like this won’t just disappear!”     Nice put the coins back in his pocket triumphantly.

      Boo, boo! Birthday hurled his booing at Nice.

    “Why would she buy something like that? Didn’t you just totally rip us off? You totally cheated and used your Minimum!”

      “Didn’t you use your Minimum too, Birthday?!”

      “Okay, that’s true, but you couldn’t make her laugh either!”

      “No way!” exclaimed Nice, looking the little girl over again.

    Nice, just like Birthday did earlier, fell to his knees.

     “If I made a wrong move then I could’ve lost all my money for nothing...”

     “Yeah, this one’s a tough cookie...”

    Birthday sniffed loudly and turned away from the little girl, shaking Nice’s shoulders.

       “This one little girl, we can’t make her laugh,” Nice wailed. “...It’s hopeless...” Birthday admitted.

      Without Birthday nor Nice realizing it, a small group of people had gathered around them in a circle.

    It’s because they kept doing things that made them stand out.

    However, neither Nice nor Birthday cared much for the onlookers. The only thing they cared about was the little girl in front of them who wouldn’t laugh. Nice and Birthday croaked out:

       “But Birthday, we...”

     “Yeah, Nice. We can’t let it end like this.”

      They felt in sync with their determination. There was only one thing left they could do. They shouted, voices overlapping: “Our Last-ditch Attempt!” “Our Secret Technique!”

    ‘Funny faces!’

    Using all their fingers, Nice and Birthday pulled as many funny faces as they could think of.

      Laughter erupted from the circle of spectators.

    “The heck is that?” “Super weird!” “They’ve gone crazy!” “Young people sure are full of energy!”

    Everyone around them was buying it. Except the most crucial one of them; the little girl didn’t even crack a smile.

      Nice and Birthday moved their hands off their faces and let them fall, lowering their heads.

    “Hey, Birthday. We did all we could, right?”

    “We did. We really did all we could, Nice.”

      But just as Nice and Birthday said that, the little girl touched their heads with her small hands.

      As soon as she did, for a moment, an image of a girl flashed in Nice’s mind.

    “Wha— just now—?” “What did I just see?”

    Nice and Birthday looked at each other.

      “Just now, did you see it too, Birthday?  That girl?”

    “Yeah, I saw it! I’m not a lolicon, but that girl looked cute, whoa!”

      A beautiful girl: these are the words that fit her. She looked to be around elementary-age.

    She had long, glossy black hair. She had a somber look on her face, but it was a look that was suited features.

    Her beauty, almost artificial, somehow resembled that of the little girl who wouldn’t laugh.

    The little girl withdrew her hands from Nice’s and Birthday’s heads. She was as expressionless as ever, but Nice felt like he could see something in her eyes.

      “...Could it be, you were looking for that girl?”

      Languidly, the little girl bowed her head.

      “You want us to look for her. Is that what you’re hoping?”

      The little girls eyes wavered. She hesitated, but even if it was a small one she had given a nod.

    Help me. Nice felt as if he heard a voice call out to him.

      “Alright. I accept your request.”

    Nice stood up, carelessly wiping his palm off on his shirt before holding it out towards the girl in greeting.

    Very nervously, the girl let Nice shake her hand. Her fingers were unusually stiff, unlike how soft her childlike face appeared.

    Nice tucked the sense of discomfort away in the back of his mind and introduced himself:

    “I’m Nice. I’m a detective.”

      Birthday got up cheerfully and started gathering the lights he’d tangled all around his body.

    “Then shall we? You gotta do some work to find people, you know... Hi, hi, sorry for the ruckus~”

   Birthday sang to the crowd, out of courtesy, before he began to walk.

      Slightly surprised, Nice asked Birthday:

    “You’re gonna help me? We’re not gonna make any money out of this. And actually, Birthday, don’t you have any handyman work today?”

      Birthday stopped to spare him a glance.

    “Work? Well, there was a request to be some disagreeable fella’s bodyguard, but that’s fine. I mean, since it’s come to this, we should listen to the wishes of a girl who’s so troubled she can’t even smile.”

      “So that’s it,” Nice laughed in agreement. Then, taking little girl’s hand, he began to walk as well.

    “‘Cause there really are some things more important than money.”

  ✢

     “Sheesh, that Nice. He really does just do things his way.”

    Murasaki complained to himself after the client who requested the search for her daughter left. Damn it, Murasaki sighed.

    “...I know you’ve told me before, Nice, we have to only accept serious requests. I get where you’re coming from. But that’s not how the world works. Not everyone will understand what you believe. So I end up having no choice but to do this.”

      Since that woman client had left, there were no other customers in Nowhere. It’s fine to check how much this is now, right? thought Murasaki as he opened the envelope containing the advance payment.

    The envelope was snatched from beside him. Murasaki turned in that direction in surprise, shifting his eyeglasses. There Koneko was smling widely, envelope in hand.

    “Hey, what are you doing all of a sudden—”

      “It’s not all of a sudden or anything. I’ll take care of this, for the stuff that needs to be paid off.”

    Though Koneko was smiling, the light in her eyes shone with conviction. Murasaki let out another sigh, smaller this time.

      “Can’t do anything about that, we have been borrowing money. That’s mostly Nice’s fault... If there’s any money left after the overdue fee for using the table, and that idiot’s tab for food and drinks are all paid off, give it to me.”

      “Mhm, I’ll properly and fairly return what’s left of it after everything’s paid off...”

    Koneko nodded repeatedly, looking quite satisfied. Murasaki readjusted his glasses with a hand, getting up after looking towards where the woman had entered before handing them the envelope paying for her daughter’s search.

    “Are you going out, Murasaki-san?”

      “Searching for people takes hard work and a lot of time. I don’t have the luxury to be warming chairs with my ass.”

       “Take care,”

    Koneko called out, wishing Murasaki off.

    At that moment, Murasaki heard Hajime order, “Three large servings of curry. On Nice’s tab.” But Murasaki, thinking he had no obligation to tell Nice about it, let himself forget all about it right on the spot.

    He was only thinking about the request he’d just accepted.

    “At any rate, it’d be best if I could get any help.”

    Right as he left the cafe, Murasaki brought out his smartphone. He dialed a contact he considered reliable, hoping he would answer. After two rings, the call went through.

      ‘Murasaki? What is it?’

      “Ratio, do you have a minute?”

      On the other end of the call was a man named Ratio. He is a doctor who works for a large hospital, but he is also Birthday’s partner in handyman work.

    ‘Yeah, it’s fine. I’m free, I got off just now.’

      Thinking of Ratio's appearance, that he’s always wearing a white coat and an eyepatch on his right eye, Murasaki continued:

    “You’re free? Great, I want you to ask Birthday to help out with a request. It’s to search for someone.”

      ‘Unfortunately, I’m the only one on who’s free. It’s Birthday’s fault.’

      Upon hearing Ratio’s explanation, Murasaki got a good grasp of the situation.

    “...So your playboy went off somewhere and left you with all the work too, huh?”

      ‘There was a bodyguard job request but it seems he’s got some more important business to take care of. In any case, it’s probably about a girl— So, what’s the plan? If you’re fine with me, I can help you out. I’m off work today because I spend my unpaid leaves to help Birthday with his odd jobs.’

      Ratio is more coolheaded than Murasaki, and also more mature. But from his placid tone, Murasaki could sense his frustration. Phew, Murasaki sighed lightly.

    “...We both suffer, don’t we?”

      ‘I’m used to it. You, too, Murasaki, you’ll get used to it eventually. Truth be told, if we get angry at our partners every time, there’ll never be an end to it.’

    Ratio chuckled. It made Murasaki feel at ease.

      Ratio and Murasaki, just like Nice and Birthday, are from Facultas. Ratio dropped out of the academy in the same season as Birthday, while Murasaki studied at the Kansai campus of Facultas, so they weren’t acquainted during their time as students.

    Murasaki only met Ratio in the last year when he quit the academy. And though they haven’t known each other for very long, Ratio has become someone Murasaki can count on.

      Birthday and Nice are the same breed, so Ratio’s suffering is something I can understand.

    Without voicing his empathy, Murasaki spoke,

    “No end to it, huh... You’re right about that. All we can do is fulfill the requests we accepted— It’d be better to tell you all the details by showing you. Can you leave there?”

      ‘I can, no problem. Should I go to Nowhere?’

      “No, let’s go to another cafe. There’s one closer to the hospital where you work, right, Ratio? There would be fine.”

       ‘Roger that. I’ll go right now, meet you there.’

      “Right, thanks.”

    Once the call was over, Murasaki began putting his phone in his pocket but stopped his hand mid-gesture.

    “...Should I call Nice? Nah, I won’t. Since it’s him, he’s probably started doing something else. Well... He’s probably not gonna get any money out of it though.”

    Laughing once, Murasaki put his smartphone in his pocket and headed for the meeting place.

  ✢

       Once Murasaki had gone out, Koneko brought out a laptop she uses specifically for bookkeeping and began to work on accounting; her first order of business, naturally, was liquidating Nice’s debt.

    “Master, can I have the account book with Nice-kun’s tab?”

      “Wait for a while... I’m finishing a serving, see.”

    Master put out the dish for Hajime’s order of large curry servings.

    On the large dish was more than twice as much rice and curry as there would be on a regular serving.

      Hajime is a small girl and looks delicate, but she loves eating, and she loves eating a lot. Her large curry was three serving’s worth.

    Having been waiting with a spoon in hand, Hajime tasted the curry as soon as she received it.

      “Now, to get that book...”

    Master retreated into the backroom of the cafe. Seeing him turn his back, Koneko began to type away at the keyboard.

      Koneko stopped her hands for a second to look at Hajime.

    “Ah, I just remembered! Hajime-chan, Hajime-chan, can I ask you to do me one favor?”

      Her cheeks stuffed with curry, Hajime replied:

    “Me? What?”

      “Ah, well, there’s a book I’d like you to buy.  Just a magazine with shoujo manga.”

      Hajime swallowed the food in her mouth and drank some water before answering.

    “Right now, I’m facing off with this curry with everything I’ve got, so I can’t.”

       After answering frankly, Hajime turned away and started eating her curry again. To her profile, Koneko said,

    “If you go buy it, I’ll make you a parfait to go with that.”

      Hajime about-faced instantaneously, and without even changing her expression, complied.

    “Tell me the title of the magazine. As Hamatora Detective Agency’s number one assistant, I’ll acquire the magazine without fail.”

      “Really?! This month’s issue is going to be sold out soon because it has rare bonus materials! Can you do it now?”

      “Just one second. I’m gonna finish my food first.”

    Hajime vigorously shoveled spoonful after spoonful of curry into her mouth. Koneko watched as the big serving of curry disappeared. Lastly, Hajime finished her cup of water and put her spoon down.

    “Thanks for the meal. Tell Master that I’m having my second serving with that parfait when I get back.”

      “You got it. Now here’s the title of the magazine and money to buy it.”

    Koneko handed Hajime a 500-yen coin and a memo with the magazine’s title on it. Hajime glanced at the memo and put it in her pocket along with the coins.

      “Roger. I’ll get going now.”

    she said in her usual bland tone, and with light footsteps, as if she were skipping, Hajime left the cafe. As if to replace her, another girl in the same generation as Hajime entered the cafe.

      It was a sweet-looking girl with beautiful big blue eyes, and long blonde hair tied into twin tails. She was wearing a white coat that was reminiscent of a researcher’s lab gown.

    “Hi, Koneko. Long time no see~”

      “Ah, Honey-san, welcome!”

      Honey. She is half-German, half-American. She and Koneko are acquaintances.

      “Oh? Where’s Nice and the others? Out on a job?”

      “Nice-kun and the others went out just a while ago, do you have business with them?”

      “Nhn, not really. Just kinda wanted to see them. I’m meeting with Art today. Do you mind if I kill some time here?”

      “Not at all. Please go sit at any table you like.”

    Closing the laptop, Koneko switched her mind into service mode.

    Koneko immediately prepared a tray with cold water and a moistened hand towel, then headed towards Honey’s table.

    “Are you ready to order?”

      “Then, your house-blend. No need for milk and sugar.”

      Koneko felt like she’d heard somewhere at some point that Germans like to drink good coffee.

    If you look at her, you’d guess she’d be more of a tea person. But to begin with, she’s also part-American, isn’t she? I wonder if Americans like coffee over tea, too...

    Thinking this but deciding not to say anything unnecessary, Koneko took her order.

    “Got that... Wait a second, Master hasn’t come back yet...”

      As if on cue, with perfect timing as Koneko turned around, Master had reappeared with a notebook in one hand.

    “Here’s the account book— oh, a customer? What’s the order?”

    Master set the notebook down somewhere within his reach and put his working face on.

      “Our house-blend,” said Koneko. Master started preparing the coffee drip right away.

      Honey felt a tad bit sheepish.

    “Could I have gotten in the way of you doing some accounting work?”

      “Ah, don’t worry about it. It’s just about liquidating Nice-kun’s tab, so I can push it off.”

      “Liquidating his tab? Did he get some incidental income?”

      Nice is always in a tight spot at the end of the year; Anyone who knows Nice even a little can guess that he’s that type of person.

      “Yes, that’s right. It’s from a payment for a request Murasaki-san accepted, to search for someone.”

      “Search for someone?” inquired Honey. Koneko pondered how she should reply.

      Honey works as a bodyguard. With a great man named Three, they take requests to just about anywhere in the world, not only to be bodyguards but also to clean up messes.

    Since they are agents effective at resolving messes, they also often receive requests from even the police.

    The person Honey said she was meeting is Art, a police detective from the Yokohama Police.

      As it seemed, the request Murasaki had accepted might also concern the police. If there is a connection between his case and the continuous disappearance of attractive women, Murasaki might find himself involved.

      A detective’s gone off to go look for a missing person. Koneko wondered what Art and Honey would think.

    In some cases, civilians will just do more than they have to even if everyone’s told to practice caution, so it’s not that strange.

    —Koneko thought better than to say anything.

    “As an intermediary for Hamatora Detective Agency, I cannot divulge any details.”

    Koneko wore a business smile. Honey giggled.

      “If it’s not gonna mess with the police, you would tell me, right?”

    It appeared Koneko was found out. Having no choice, Koneko smiled timidly.

    “As expected of Honey-san who has the <Information Analysis> minimum.”

      Honey was in the same batch as Nice, Birthday, Ratio, and Art at the Academy. While Nice and the others dropped out, only Honey and Art graduated.

      Honey’s Minimum Ability allows her to predict up to ten minutes into the future through a unique urban-grasping system application that she developed herself, <Mighty Script>, with the help of her special computer terminal, a tablet called  <Mighty>. But just now, Honey didn’t use <Mighty>.

    “I didn’t have to go as far as to use my Minimum, it was simple reasoning. I was just wondering if that has something to do with why Art called me. I won’t ask anymore. I’ll keep it from Art for you, too, at least for now.”

      “Thank you very much.”

    Koneko bowed after seeing Honey smile.

    “By the way,” Koneko changed the topic. “So it’s gotten to this point, Honey-san, you and Art-san. I wonder how that will go?”

      “How what will go?”

      “Aren’t you two getting together? Uhm, I suppose you guys suit each other...”

      Honey’s eyes grew wide.

    “Me and Art?”

    Right after she said that, she started cackling,

    “Ahahahaha! I’ve never thought of that!”

      “W—was... Was what I said really that weird?”

    Koneko asked, feeling extremely flustered. After a while, Honey stopped laughing out loud and flashed her another small smile.

      “Well, if it weren’t a weird thing, I wouldn’t have a weird reaction, right? But Art, huh...  He’s like my comrade in arms.”

      “Comrade in arms?”

      “That’s right. Art is someone I respect, and I have faith in him. If a situation ever comes where he has to shoot me, I won’t even have a problem with it because I believe in him.”

      “...Somehow, that kind of relationship is better than being lovers...”

      “I don’t think about it that way. Like, sure it’s special but it’s not about being lovers.”

      The expression on Honey’s face changed suddenly; Koneko thought it was the expression of an innocent girl. No doubt that Honey has someone she’s interested in, Koneko thought.

    Someone popped into Koneko’s head; a big man who always had an austere look on his face— It was Three.

    Honey and Three are as far apart in age as a parent and child would be.

    No way, that’s not possible. With this in mind, Koneko decided to ask anyway,

    “I know you’ve been working with Three-san for a long time, right? What about Three-san?”

      Honey’s face suddenly flared, and she blushed up to her ears.

    “Wh-wh-wh-what are you saying so suddenly, I didn’t hear—?”

    Honey hurriedly gulped down some water, choked, then ended up coughing.

      Koneko watched Honey with a warm smile.

    —Ah, so is that it...?

      After a long while, Honey wiped her face with a handkerchief she took out from somewhere and spoke with it over her mouth:

    “Th—that guy, look, he’s got that kind of face but he’s actually sensitive— I mean, he’s got plenty of soft spots here and there, too. He’s got some weird hobbies like reading shoujo manga, but it’s also kinda endearing... Ah, oh no, what am I saying? Geez, it’s because Koneko asked—!”

      —Uhm. I don’t remember ever asking about that much though...

      As Koneko troubled herself over how to respond to that, the scent of coffee suddenly spread throughout the cafe.

      “Coffee’s ready,” Master announced.

      “Well would you look at that! Go and bring it here!” Honey commanded hastily, as if to dodge further questions.

      Feeling deeply relieved, Koneko smiled, said “Yes, I’ll be right back,” and went back to the counter.

      On the tray was a cup of coffee on a saucer as well as a few almond chocolates on a small dish.

    “Just a little extra service.”

    Past Honey’s exchange with Koneko, Honey might be able to feel grateful for Master’s thoughtfulness.

      Thank you very much, Koneko said to Master before taking the coffee.

    When Koneko had delivered the coffee to the table, a young man entered the cafe.

      He had shadowy but delicate features, and a lithe body dressed properly in a suit.

    “Hello,” he greeted in a refreshing voice; it was a police inspector from the Yokohama police department, Art.

      Honey turned around and waved at him.

    “Hi, Art!”

      “Sorry for being a little late. Koneko, could I ask for a cup of tea?”

    Having apologized to Honey and ordered from Koneko in the same breath, Art took a seat opposite Honey at her table.

      “Yes, tea coming right up. Please wait for a little.”

      Koneko glanced at Master. Without her having to repeat the order, Master had already begun preparing tea. Art’s usual order is tea, and Koneko mused that she’d never seen Art drink coffee.

    “Oh, Art-san, won’t you try some coffee next time? It’s delicious, Master’s coffee.”

      “The truth is, I’m really not a coffee person. It’s my bad, even though you’re very considerate.”

    Art said with shame, chuckling wryly.

      “Ah, my bad as well for saying something unnecessary, I’m sorry. I’ll be quiet so I don’t interrupt you anymore.”

    After apologizing, Koneko left the table. Art then turned to Honey.

      “You guys coming is a big help, Honey. What business do you guys have in Japan? If you guys are very busy, I won’t bother you anymore.”

    Art told Honey. She made a slightly off-putting expression and made a sidelong glance.

      “...It’s Three.  He said there’s a shoujo manga magazine that he really wants to get today.”

      A shoujo manga magazine? Those words worried Koneko but she didn’t say anything so as not to disrupt the mood of their talk.

      “Ah, now that you mention it, Sensei does really like shoujo manga.”

      Art calls Three sensei. Three is a guru of a military-style ‘command self-defense’ type of wrestling.

    Three is also adept in Jiu Jitsu, and Art had learned Judo from him.

      Art continued after getting that remark out,

    “But is it really worth all the effort to go buy them physically? Electronic versions are available these days.”

      “It’s pretty difficult to get the magazines overseas as it is, and somehow the e-versions are less interesting. But it’s a good thing, isn’t it? Because we get to see each other like this now. So, what do we have to do?”

    Honey’s expression became thoughtful, as did Art’s.

    “I need you to do something for me, even if it’s just for today. I’m certain that your information-processing ability will be a great help.”

      “Had a feeling it would be that. Can I have the info ASAP?”

      “Yeah.” Art brought something out from the pocket of his suit, then he looked towards Koneko.

    “Where are Nice and the others today?”

      “They’re out. I don’t think they’ll be back for a while.”

      “That’s a relief. This time, these photos really can’t be shown to anyone except people involved in the investigation. Koneko, you too, could you pretend you didn’t see anything?”

      “I understand,” Koneko replied. With a small nod, Art spread out the articles on the tabletop.

      There were five photos, all of which were of young and attractive women.

    Additionally, there were five sheets of printed paper.

    They seemed to contain succinct summaries of the women in the photos.

      “Recently, there have been incidents of girls disappearing quickly one after the other. Although there’s a possibility that they were kidnapped, we hardly know anything yet.”

      “I read about the incident on the newspaper before I came here. Well, I’ll borrow those for a bit.”

    Honey fished her computer terminal tablet out of her bag. It contained an urban-grasping system application called <Mighty Script>; it is also called <Mighty>.

     Using the camera on <Mighty>, Honey took photo after photo of the documents.

    <Mighty> then displayed the photos and profiles that were converted into data.

    Honey organized the information on <Mighty>, taking sips of her coffee every once in a while. She put one almond chocolate in her mouth and bit down on it, muttering once she was sure,

    “...I got it.”

      “Have you already figured out what’s behind the situation?!”

      “Don’t be so hasty, Art, it isn’t like you. What I got is that the information is severely insufficient. Even if I use my Minimum, it wouldn’t be enough.”

      “...My bad, it wasn’t in my place to go off.”

    Despondently, Art shrank back, and the cafe quieted all over.

      “Tea’s ready.”

    Master announced. Koneko went to the counter and carried back a tray with nothing but black tea on it this time.

      “Sorry to make you wait.”

      “...Thank you.”

    To cool his head, Art took a sip of the black tea.

    “In times like these, when you think about the horrible things those missing people must be going through, it’s so hard to calm down no matter what I do. The only thing I can do are straightforward investigations.”

    Because unlike you guys, I don’t have a Minimum.     Art said this in a long breath.

      Art was also from Facultas. However, unlike Nice and the others, Art did not have a Minimum Ability. Though he exhibited Minimum Aptitude, he could not manifest it into an ability.

    Neverthelesss, putting great effort into everything, Art managed to graduate Facultas with an exceptional record.

    After graduating from Facultas, he passed the Government Employee Career Exam, and young as he was, attained his position as police superintendent. He is seen by the police organization to be an extremely excellent officer with a very promising future.

    There was absolutely no one who had ridiculed Art’s efforts, and no one who could even come close to him.

      “Alright, time to hurry this up.”

    Honey drank all her coffee and put the rest of the almond chocolates in her mouth. While chewing, she put <Mighty> in her bag and got up.

      “This information really is nowhere near enough. So first of all, let’s use these photos and get more information. What’s that you said, Art— don’t you think everything starts with a good, straightforward investigation?”

      “I guess so.”

    The determination returned to Art’s face.

    “I’m sorry, Master. Looks like I won’t be able to finish all the tea you brewed for me. I’ll leave my payment here. I’ll drop by again, please send my regards to Nice and the others, too.”

    Art cleaned up the materials he laid out on the table, pulled out two bills from his wallet, and set them down.

      There was obviously more money than was payment for both the tea and the coffee, but Koneko accepted it without trouble, knowing it was hush money for the information she’d seen.

    “Yes, we’ll look forward to your next visit. Please take care.”

    Koneko saw Art and Honey off with a smile, then took to cleaning the table.

    She tilted her head slightly.

    “A shoujo manga he wants to get today, was it? Three-san will probably run into Hajime-chan, won’t he? This month’s issue will be super rare...  What if they clash—? No, no, that won’t happen...”

    Koneko interrupted herself with a giggle, then went back to doing accounting for Nice’s debt.

  ✢

       “Hey, you foreign-looking guy over there, hold it!”

    called a girl’s voice at the street corner, to a man whose big, martial-arts body was covered in a pastor’s vestments—

      Three stopped in his tracks to turn around and was mildly surprised to see someone unexpected.

    “If it isn’t Hajime. What is it?”

      Three and Hajime are acquainted with each other. They have seen each other several times.

      “Ah, it’s Three. Now that I look at you, your face is pretty scary.”

      Because Hajime raised her voice, he had a surprised look on his face.

    On Three’s big, square-ish face is his nose, thickly sculpted and reminiscent of a lion. There is also a scar that looks like an X, spanning from his forehead, through his eyebrows, all the way to his cheeks.

    He always has such a serious look on his face that children could cry if he approached. But even if he looked like this, he’s actually fond of children.

      “Sorry for my scary face. What do you want, Hajime?”

    he asked, in a low and soft tone that was gentlemanly. Hajime answered after a short silence,

      “The clerk at the convenience store said that a foreign-looking guy bought that last copy. So, please give it to me. I can pay for it with money properly.”

      In Three’s hands was a plastic bag from the convenience store, and in it was the shoujo manga magazine.

      I came to Japan because I really wanted it on the release date, but the bookstore I went to was sold out already by some fate, and I finally found it in a convenience store and bought it right out of their storefront inventory.

    Oh no, Three groaned. It was the wish of a child. Any other time, he would have given it away without hesitating, and for free, too.

    However, he couldn’t let go of this one volume so easily.

    It was because this was a completely new work with unserialized stories from one of Three’s favorite manga authors who hasn’t announced new content in several years.

    “...It pains me to say this, but I can’t hand this magazine over.”

      “—Even if I said I would pay for it with money? You won’t change your mind?”

      “I absolutely can’t. If you’ve looked all over the place for this, too, Hajime... Then you’ll understand. If I miss out on this, I might never get my hands on it ever again. I have a good reason not to give up on it.”

      “Me too, I have a good reason not to give up on it. Even if I have to beat you up or kill you, I’ll pay for it.”

      Three couldn’t have known that Hajime’s reason for not yielding was so that she could have a parfait.

    Judging by Hajime’s weighty words and the serious look on her face, Three thought that it must have been a deep reason.

      “It’s in my principle not to wage violence against girls... But I don’t think I can give up, no matter what. I have no choice. I’ll have to treat becoming your opponent as training.”

      There was a time not long ago when Three had fought Hajime; he was aware of how strong Hajime was.

      Three, thinking it wouldn’t be right of him to hold back on a girl like Hajime, put the plastic bag containing the magazine on a nearby post.

    “If you defeat me, just take it. At that time, the payment won’t be necessary anymore.”

      “I said I would pay for it!”

    Then, Hajime disappeared in a flash.

      “What—?!”

      Hajime caught Three off guard, and he was wide open. Three felt wind blow behind him.

      Instinctively, Three turned around, and came a few centimeters face to face with the heel of Hajime’s boot.

    Her kick was aimed right at his chin. Three felt a chill run up his spine.

      Hajime’s kick, targeted at Three’s face, relentlessly blew through in a sharp arc.

      Three crossed his arms in front of him and took the attack.

    Three immediately felt the impact on his arms.

      Hajime’s body is small and light, but if she put enough power into it she could have easily fractured Three’s face.

    Her technique was beyond even a karate dojo’s instructor.

      —Her skill’s even sharper than when we fought before. Does that mean she wasn’t serious then?

    So you can do this much if you get serious. Three braced himself.

    If I draw this fight out, I might get myself injured by Hajime one way or another.

    If I want to make this quick, I have to do a locking technique in Judo and make her give up.

      Three is a guru of a ‘command self-defense’ type of wrestling. He knows throwing techniques, locking techniques, even strangleholds; there was no way he could lose in a professional fight.

      —It’s awful of me, but I have to get serious now!     Dropping his guard, Three caught Hajime’s ankle as she kicked him. He planned to put pressure on her ankle while he was at it.

      But the moment Three caught Hajime’s ankle, she punched his elbow.

    The precise blow numbed Three all the way to his fingertips, making him release Hajime’s ankle from his hold.

      Hajime just did a move from Chinese martial arts when she raised the knuckle of her middle finger in her fist and sharply struck Three’s elbow.

    Then from that extreme stance, Hajime flipped backwards away from Three.

    She landed on her feet without a sound. That movement made her look as flexible as a cat.

      “Ryuuzu-ken is a difficult move to master. You might get injured if you don’t train yourself to do it properly.”

      “Ryuu-what-ken? I didn’t know it was called like that. I just know it hurts a lot when I do it.”

    Hajime usually wears fingerless gloves that have small, protective armor shells. They reduced the effect of the Ryuuzu-ken by half, but also reduced the damage that would come back to her by that much.

    After swaying, Hajime took her stance once more. Her body was utterly overflowing with endless power.

    “So? Do you feel like giving up now?”

    Although she looked like a child, within her was an elite fighter. Three acknowledged Hajime.

      “You’re really formidable, Hajime.”

    A big smile grew on Three’s lips.

    “How interesting! I said this would only be training, but that’s okay! I’ll take you on seriously as my opponent!”

      Three is a Minimum Holder that possesses the <Beast Minimum>.

    “Oh Lord. Please forgive me for staining these fangs and claws with blood. I am the beast—”

    Offering a prayer to the god he believes in: this is the condition for invocation of Three’s Minimum.

   His hair stiffened as he immersed himself, and a beast’s instinct manifested itself in his appearance. In his eyes were an irrefutable glint: he was the ruler of all the animal kingdom.

    “Roooooaaarrr!!”

    Hardly worrying about drawing attention in public, Three let out his beast-cry.

  ✢ ✢ ✢

 HAMATORA THE NOVEL PART I END

thank you for reading! please look forward to part ii!

 again you can get in touch with us on the following: minimums@tumblr/gayhacker@ao3/tatsuyaenomoto@twitter (scans) ba-sudei@tumblr/d_n__@twitter (translation)

thank you for the support! ここから応援してください！

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hey Steph! I was watching Dr No yesterday (1st James Bond film) and both me and my dad noticed that one scene in particular is very similar to TFP (empty room, disembodied voice giving instructions, island fortress) and I was wondering if you had any tin-hatty theories concerning this (John likes James Bond and is a Doctor...)

Hi Nonny!

Yeah, the comparison to Bond for S4 has been made numerous times; I believe other bloggers have even done full masterposts about it. Which is ironic because when Gatiss was accused of making a Bond shit show he openly dragged the newspaper, only to… literally make an episode heavily influenced by Bond. :| 

But yes, many of us think that the heavy Bond influence is WHY TFP absolutely could be John’s POV. In John’s dying mind, he “dreams” of their lives like a Bond film, everything being a metaphor for things John himself is trying to understand, and how he’s perceiving the events outside of his mind translate into his brain. On some level I do believe it was intentional that everything feels so disjointed and like a completely different show, because it’s looking inside John’s head about HIMSELF, rather than how John perceives Sherlock as was the case with S1 and S2.

Anyway, yeah, I think the Bond Influence, especially with Bond Night being essentially what “bonded” (HUR DUR, PUN INTENDED) Sherlock and John together in the early months of their relationship, is equatable to Sherlock reading John’s blog in TAB -- That night was special to John (possibly the night he unconsciously fell in love with Sherlock but didn’t know it, much like in TAB Sherlock realized that when they met is WHEN SHERLOCK fell in love for real), and as such, it’s like Sherlock reading the blog post in TAB. John remembers, as he’s dying (LIKE SHERLOCK WAS IN TAB), the night that John fell in love with Sherlock, and it plays out in his head as the two of them in a Bond movie. Sherlock craves romance: romantic “play” of their lives together in a society that he believes he cannot have John. John craves danger and adventure: plays out as a movie where he’s essentially the Bond girl that gets tossed aside at the end.

In summation, because I rambled hard up there as it all came to me:

 Sherlock is dying in TAB from a drug overdose, plays out a fantasy in his head of their first adventurous night together in the most romantic way possible while also solving the riddle of his own heart.

John is dying in TFP from a gunshot to the head, and hallucinates a life of adventure and excitement of their domestic night together in while trying to make sense of his own heart and his place in Sherlock’s life.

Ergo: Sherlock had adventure to give, and craved love. John had love to give, and craved adventure. 

They are perfect for each other, and both have finally realized it.

[torixus]

Antibodies from llamas could help in fight against COVID-19 - Study Suggests

Researchers have linked two different types of antibodies produced by llamas to create a new antibody that binds closely to the key protein on the coronavirus that causes COVID-19. This protein, called spot protein, allows the virus to penetrate host cells. Preliminary tests show that the antibody blocks the viruses that display this spot protein from cells infected with the culture.

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Hunting for effective treatment for COVID-19 has led to a group of researchers finding an incredible ally for their work. A lama named winter. The team from the University of Texas at Texas, the National Institute of Health of Belgium and the University of Ghent, Belgium, announced their findings on May 5 in Cell magazine about a possible treatment for coronavirus infection with cranberries. The newspaper is currently available online as a "pre-investigation", which means that it has been revised in line with the current set-up.

Researchers have linked two types of antibodies produced by tulips to create a new antibody that binds closely to the key protein on the coronavirus that causes COVID-19. This protein, called spot protein, allows the virus to penetrate host cells. Preliminary tests show that the antibody blocks the viruses that display this spot protein from cells infected with the culture.

"This is one of the first antibodies known to neutralize SARS-CoV-2," said Ason Eyson McLellan, co-author and co-author of UT Austin's Molecular Biology, referring to the virus that causes COVID-19.

The team is now preparing to conduct preliminary research on animals such as ham or non-human primates, hoping for further testing in humans. The goal is to develop a treatment that will help people get infected immediately.

"Vaccines should be given one to two months before infection to provide protection," McLelan said. "By treating antibodies, you are directly giving someone protective antibodies, so they should be protected immediately after treatment. Antibodies can be used to treat someone who is already ill and the severity of the disease. ”

This will be especially helpful for vulnerable groups such as the elderly who are vaccinated with a modest response, which means that their protection may be deficient. Immediately, he, the health workers and other people at risk of contracting the virus can take advantage of the protection.

When the llama's immune systems detect foreign invaders such as bacteria and viruses, these animals (and other camels, such as alpacas) produce two types of antibodies, one that resembles human antibodies and the other that is only a quarter of the size. : These little ones, called antibodies or nanobods, can be nebulized and used as an inhaler.

"It makes them potentially a respiratory pathogen because you're sending it to the site of the infection," said Daniel Urap, a graduate student at McLellan Laboratory and the first author of the paper.

Meet in the winter

Winter, lama, is 4 years old and still lives in the Belgian coastal farm, about 130 other lamas and alpacas. Part of the experiment took place in 2016, when he was about 9 months old, and researchers were studying two coronaviruses earlier: SARS-CoV-1 and MERS-CoV. In the same process, people who get shots that can be vaccinated against the virus have been given stabilized protein spots over the past six weeks.

Next, the researchers collected a blood sample and isolated antibodies that were linked to each version of the bra protein. One has shown a real promise by stopping the virus, which carries protein from SARS-CoV-1, a culture-infected cell.

"It was exciting for me because I worked on it for so many years," said Urap. "It simply came to our notice then. This was just a basic study. Now, this can have translation consequences as well. ”

The team has developed a new antibody that shows promise for the treatment of the current SARS-CoV-2 by combining two examples of lama antibodies that have previously worked against the SARS virus. They showed that the new antibody neutralizes the viruses that show spot proteins containing SARS-CoV-2 in cell cultures. The researchers were able to conduct this study in a few weeks and publish it in the best journal, thanks to the years of work they have already done on nearby coronaviruses.

McLellan also led the team that was the first to map the SARS-CoV-2 protein protein, which was a major step against the vaccine. (Urap also co-authored with the paper, along with other authors on mobile paper, including UT Austin's Nianshuang Wang, Kizzmekia S. Corbett, Barney Graham, Allergy and Infectious Diseases Vaccine Research. By Wrapp, the first co-author of the paper is Dorian De Vliger, a postdoctoral researcher at the University of Ghent's Wallace Institute of Biotechnology (VIB), and the other senior authors, in addition to McClellan, are Bert Schepens and Javier Celens, both VIB. :

The work was supported by the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases (USA), VIB, The Research Foundation-Flanders (Belgium), Flanders Innovation and Entrepreneurship (Belgium) and the Federal Ministry of Education and Research (Germany).

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The first antibodies the team found in the initial SARS-CoV-1 and MERS-CoV tests included one called VHH-72, which was closely linked to the SARS-CoV-1 protein. Thus, it prevented the falsified virus, a virus that could not infect humans, and was genetically engineered to display on its surface copies of SARS-CoV-1 pathogens from infectious cells.

When SARS-CoV-2 appeared and caused the COVID-19 epidemic, the team wondered if the antibodies they found to SARS-CoV-1 could be effective against its viral cousin. They found that it was also linked to SARS-CoV-2's protein, albeit weak. The technical work has made it possible to more effectively connect the two examples of VHH-72 that they demonstrated by neutralizing the SARS-CoV-2's sporty meticulous protein. This is the first known antibody to neutralize both SARS-CoV-1 and SARS-CoV-2.

Four years ago, De Vliger was developing antivirals against influenza A when Bert Shephens and Xavier Celens asked if he was interested in helping to isolate antibodies against coronaviruses from the lama.

"I thought it would be a small side project," he said. "Now the scientific impact of this project is greater than I could have ever expected. It's amazing how unpredictable viruses can be. ”

The other authors of the newspaper are Gretel M. Torres, Wander Van Bredam, Kenny Rose, Loes van Shin, Marcus Hoffman, Stefan Pchlman, Barney S. Graham and Nico Calvert.

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[gingervsblondie]

Blondie (1938)

9:09 PM, Friday, 20 September 2019

Hi. My name’s Euan. Maybe you know me from things. Maybe not. What I’ve just done is open a blank word processor file on my personal computer, and alongside it I’ve opened the 1938 film Blondie, the first in the 28-film-long movie franchise based on the newspaper comic strip, which I haven’t read to any significant extent. In yet another tab, I’ve opened the Wikipedia article for said film, in which I’ve just now learned that Blondie refers to the female lead of the series, something which I was not previously aware of. Every Blondie strip I’ve ever read focused on Dagwood, so I guess I assumed Dagwood was Blondie. I knew that Dagwood was a character but I guessed that he was some wacky side character that I might see if I took a deep dive into the Blondie mythos. WHICH I SUPPOSE IS WHAT I’M DOING NOW, ISN’T IT? Because today I start my journey to watch every Blondie movie ever produced, 28 movies between 1938 and 1950. This... is Ginger vs. Blondie. A minute ago, I didn’t know who Blondie was. Let’s get stuck in, shall we?

9:10 PM

I’ve made a terrible mistake.

9:16

Went to get movie snacks and when I came back and hit play, I accidentally started playing Bombing California St., the third track from the soundtrack for The Last Black Man in San Francisco, on Spotify. It had an interesting effect, adding a dissonant ominous vibe to the cheerful intro, as well as reminding me that good movies exist and I’m gonna watch all the Blondies instead.

9:19

Arthur Lake does look like Dagwood. At this junction I don’t know if there will be different regenerations of Dagwood, but I feel if I’m taking on this endeavour I should get to know the actors’ names.

9:23

“Blondie, oh look! One of my blue socks is green!” -Dagwood, in a black and white movie, based on a black and white comic strip.

9:29

I’m impressed by Larry Simms’ performance as Baby Dumpling (who I will henceforth call Alexander because Baby Dumpling is a demeaning name for a human being) if only because he looks way too young to be able to repeat these lines on cue, as he’s doing. Actually, he seems to have the best comedic timing of any of the actors so far. Lake’s Dagwood and Penny Singleton’s Blondie have delivered a few genuinely funny jokes in such a weirdly timed way that they fell flat. Like it took me a second longer to process them than it should have.

9:35

Just used an inflation calculator to translate a bit where Blondie spends $580 on furniture into modern currency. Then I converted it to Canadian dollars so I could relate to it. Turns out it’s about $14,000 CDN.

9:38

Alexander sits in the time-out chair.

Blondie: “What have you done?”

Alexander: “Nothing, yet.”

https://youtu.be/oCghUlTLKVA?t=178

9:45

There was just a scene where Dagwood asked for advice about being in debt, and someone told him to hang himself, followed immediately by Alexander drying dishes for his mother and saying “When I dry dishes, I hate myself.”

I’m a bit concerned about the screenwriter.

(Who in this case happens to be a man by the name of Richard Flournoy.)

9:51

There was a scene where Dagwood talked to a framed photo of Blondie and Alexander on his desk. It was actually really sweet. And ended with Dagwood saying “Huh? Oh, I thought you said something.” Which made me smile.

That was a good scene in the movie Blondie.

9:54

Alexander just went full Krazy Kat and hit his friend Alvin with a fucking brick. When I saw him hiding the brick behind his back I was QUITE DISTRESSED.

9:56

The movie just made me laugh. Dagwood finds a weight scale/fortune teller, which he puts a coin in, and it tells him he weighs 163 pounds, and that he is “a stupid fellow and not likely to succeed.” He spends another coin and it says the same thing. Another man comes in, gets his weight, and is told he’s about to consummate a successful business deal. Smiling, Dagwood takes out another coin to try again.

None of this was funny.

When he inserts the coin, the scale says “Save your money, sucker, I’ve told you twice already.” And then you hear the coin being returned. That got me.

10:07

Made me laugh a second time. The joke was Guy A asks Guy B-

Guy A: “Where did you leave it?” (It being a vacuum cleaner that’s gone missing.)

Guy B slowly turns his head to look in one direction. Guy A follows suit. Then Guy B points in a different direction than he’s looking.

Guy B: “Over there.”

Stupid joke. I should note that it’s in questionable stereotype area. Guy B is a black hotel worker who I guess is supposed to be a bit dim. But if we’re giving the movie the benefit of the doubt, maybe it’s completely unrelated to him being black and completely unrelated to the unfortunate history of ridiculing black people in early American comedy.

But I mean the black guy’s giving probably the funniest performance in the movie so I gotta give props to him as a comedy performer if not to the writer.

Looked him up, his name is Willie Best. He died at age 45. “In the 21st century, his work, like that of Stepin Fetchit, is sometimes reviled because he was often called upon to play stereotypically lazy, illiterate, and/or simple-minded characters in films.”

The article for Blackface is listed in his “See also.”

Can one appreciate the comedic work of a black man who was reinforcing harmful stereotypes against black men? I didn’t realize such questions would arise when I started the 1938 movie Blondie and indeed the rest of the franchise which I’ve apparently committed myself to.

10:11

Snort. Does a snort count? I snorted. Snort Watch 2019.

Guy: “Dagwood Bumstead. Now your last name, you can’t help that. But somebody is to blame for your first name.”

Dagwood: “That’s right.”

Guy: “Any middle name?”

Dagwood: “No.”

Guy: “Well, that’s a break.”

10:27

Jesus fucking Christ, Dagwood is absolutely traumatizing Alexander. He just told him that if he kept running away from home then maybe his family might stop loving him, and one day he’d come home and they’d be gone. THAat Is NoT HowW youU PARENT DAGWOOD

10:28

The dog is a good actor.

10:30

Snort watch 2019: “General manager? General nuisance.”

I never said I had a high bar for what makes me snort.

10:33

I ship Dagwood and Blondie tbh.

This movie is kind of carried by genuinely sweet moments here and there. Y’know, in between the racism and irresponsible parenting.

10:36

Dagwood Sandwich Watch 2019:

He put a coaster in it by mistake.

10:40

‘Nother sweet moment! Blondie and Dagwood each individually snuck out of the bedroom to go check on sleeping Alexander, meet each other in his room, say “Hello.” “Hello.” And then go over to his bedside.

10:53

Dagwood’s problems came to a head at a surprise reveal in his home, in front of visiting friends. Made me think of Bob’s Birthday, the pilot to Bob and Margaret.

https://youtu.be/k-58TB6-Sy0

10:57

A lot of the conflict right now is revolving around potential infidelity. Which I wouldn’t have predicted, at the very least not in the first movie.

11:13

Thus ends the first Blondie film. It had heart. Not too many jokes landed but it didn’t get boring.

My rating is: one Dagwood Sandwich containing corn chips and turkey.

Strap in folks, we’ve got 27 movies to go. Might watch one more tonight, but I do want to re-watch Bob’s Birthday first.

11:30 I did that. Made for an interesting contrast. Some parallels of marital devotion and infidelity. ALRIGHT HERE WE GO BLONDIE MEETS THE BOSS 1939 GET HYPED EVERYBODY

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Magazine - Out of 15 Free WordPress Responsive Magazine Themes It is a powerful magazine Responsive theme for WordPress with loads of interesting features. There are 42 layout choices, sliding menus, featured content slider, layout builder, social sharing, and mega menu on top. You can choose the best from the available six colour choices. There are sidebars, icon widgets, and numerous shortcodes. 5. The Wonderwall - Out of 15 Free WordPress Responsive Magazine Themes This is an extremely well designed WordPress Responsive magazine theme with 9 pre-made homepage layouts. You can look on to the featured posts, a bevvy of grids, single lists, and many more. There are custom widgets for Instagram and other social media profiles and also some other considerable features for content discovery. There are also dedicated positions for the display of banner ads all through your website. 6. The Essence - Out of 15 Free WordPress Responsive Magazine Themes This magazine theme on WordPress would be the best for fashion, entertainment, lifestyle, and other similar purposes. For the article pages, there are 4 different layout choices available. There are built-in features for social sharing and a floating sidebar. You may, therefore, be able to share the content very easily. There also custom widgets for social media profiles and Instagram. It comes with very easy setup process; using the live customizer, you can easily get started with it. 7. Domino Magazine - Out of 15 Free WordPress Responsive Magazine Themes This WordPress Responsive magazine theme is highly customizable. There are multiple widgetized areas for the home page along with the homepage. Also, there is a weather widget, tabbed widget, and a built-in news ticker. The theme allows you to add headers, custom backgrounds, sliders, and your own logos. 8. Paperback - Out of 15 Free WordPress Responsive Magazine Themes This another absolutely elegant WordPress Responsive theme with amazing features. It displays content in the magazine theme; throughout the article, it is known to use the featured images from the content. There are also built-in featured post sliders for the homepage. Special attention is given to readability across various devices. It accounts for the equally appreciable topography on mobile phones like that on desktops. The category mega menu displays the featured contents from them. 9. Valenti - Premium WordPress Responsive Theme This is easy to use, retina ready news and review theme. This is a high-quality theme supporting high-quality graphics so that you can come up with excellent sites. The Valenti page builder allows you with easy drag and drops options. It also has the review theme and style that makes it perfect for review related content. The theme also allows you with advanced customizations. It is a compatible and translation ready theme. This could also prove to be a great option in case you were planning for some e-commerce activities. 10. Compass - Out of 15 Free WordPress Responsive Magazine Themes This is a sophisticated and modern, WordPress Responsive news and magazine theme. It has a featured content slider, featured categories, dynamic homepage builder, and a 1-page demo content installer which make it highly customizable. There is also a built-in breaking news ticker, custom colours, multiple page templates, logos and backgrounds, and fonts. There are also multiple widget-ready areas and several custom widgets that can be used well. 11. Baseline - Out of 15 Free WordPress Responsive Magazine Themes This is one of the most suitable themes for news, magazine or photography websites. This minimalist theme includes a featured content carousel that utilizes large images. There are multiple page layouts, category header menu, social menus, custom widgets etc. It also makes use of the customizer for live theme setup. 12. Hemlock - Out of 15 Free WordPress Responsive Magazine Themes This WordPress Responsive magazine theme is a perfect one for Blogging. It is complete with all the necessary features and amazing designs. There are no considerable extended features available with the theme, however; it is absolutely perfect for a startup. It allows quick loading and also content sharing. Hemlock is a really responsive theme supporting various media files. 13. News Portal - Out of 15 Free WordPress Responsive Magazine Themes This is one of the most beautifully designed WordPress Responsive themes. It seems to be just perfect for magazine or news websites. There are different colour schemes that can be selected for different category pages. There are multiple magazine choices available with this theme along with sidebar areas and custom widgets. There are many more elements for easy customization that can be accessed via the theme customizer. It has been optimized well for SEO, performance, and better speed. 14. FlexMag - Out of 15 Free WordPress Responsive Magazine Themes FlexMag will let you experience the best presentation of your website without any need of struggling with designing. You can select from the 4 pre-set skins and the several custom widgets that are available. There are specialized features to ensure improved reader experience. There are also ad spaces and widgets that you can utilize. 15. Prologue - Out of 15 Free WordPress Responsive Magazine Themes This beautiful WordPress Responsive theme showcases your content with absolute elegance. It features a video slider, featured content slider, and ad spaces. Other features include social media integration, custom logo, and widget ready areas. You may surely select some of the best from these WordPress Responsive magazine themes to let you perform well with your websites.

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