#go with the flow writing

[writerpolls]

*In writing terms, an architect is someone who plots out, plans, and outlines things before drafting. A gardener is someone who takes an initial idea and then just writes, seeing how the idea grows without specific plans.

Some people use the terms “plotter” and “pantser” (as in, going by the seat of their pants) for these writing styles, but I prefer architect and gardener.

[hinamie]

unconditionally

[justsalpals]

And in this moment I became obsessed with G13

what if I was a shitty little oily hacker guy, looking out only for myself. what if I had a small ring of like minded cyber criminals, maybe my friends, maybe willing to stab me in the back at a moments notice, maybe that's what friendship means to us. what if I worked for the feds and the criminals and above all for myself.

what if a world of explosions fell flat with static. what if chosen family spat the same predictable lines. what if I was a hacker, and the world was code. what if.

what if a little old woman fell right into my brain, sweet and useless and real. real real real.

and if I reached out -let the code of my mind fill in her blank spaces- and tasted what it meant to be real.

[ninakoll]

6 page (pg-13?) rinniki comic inspired by that one rly cute hajime story in which hajime is invited to eat pizza with rinne at niki's place. did this sort of as rinne's bday comic since niki got one too! sorry if its a little ooc i needed them in the Situation for this comic to work...

that dangling spit over someones face as punishment thing is 100% an older sibling forbidden move . anyway.. always fun to draw a short comic. see you aruound space cowboys

[gaddaboutgriffon]

Young Justice Spider.

I have seen a lot of post where Spider-Man gets sent to Gotham because Dr strange’s memory erasing spell means he can’t stay in the marvel universe anymore, and get adopted by the batfam. But there are not a lot of fics with him and young justice. (Unless you count tiny one shots.)

But what if he landed somewhere else? What if typical Parker luck caused him to enter the dc universe somewhere less favorable because that is where the action would be happening next?

I am going to have the portal spit him out in the underground levels of Cadmus labs on the day that Robin, Kid Flash, and Aqualad go to investigate the fire but end up rescuing Superboy. In fact I think I will have his sudden appearance be why the main psychic genomorph decided to do the fire that day instead of later like planned.

So Cadmus security is already distracted and busy trying to catch one intruder that they miss the side kicks arising and entering through the express elevator. Robin hacks the system and finds project Kr and that there seems to be an “asset” trying to escape. They search and Find Spidey first and since aren’t setting off the spider sense like everything else in the building is he quickly agrees to go with them.

Then they go down to the level project Kr is on, and like in the episode, release the clone. Peter’s Spider sense goes off and he intercepts the attack. Because Superboy is only half kryptonian and hasn’t had natural sunlight yet they are evenly matched strength wise, but Superboy is a tad faster. It isn’t until the scientist Desmond orders the psychic genomorph to psy-blast Spidey that Superboy gets the upper hand and takes him and the other side kicks out.

The rest of the escape happens like in the episode where Superboy changes sides and rescues them from the cloning lab. Then they fight the roided up Desmond/Blockbuster and bring the building down on the former scientist.

When the Justice league gets there and the explain what happened, the adults of course also ask who Spider-man is. Fortunately Robin and Kid Flash made it seem like he was an escaping clone and Peter has the presence of mind to go with the cover story they accidentally gave. So he will be staying in the young justice base with Superboy.

Ok lunch is ending for me, so let’s see what other people can add onto this.

[onionninjasstuff]

this is part one! | next

[exhaustedpirate]

bucktommy kiss meme #29 💚

#29 - as a promise (includes 8x16 spoilers)

The plane is high in the clear sky now, sun shining over the white metal. Bobby's casket is safely in the hold while the Grants sit in their comfortable seats. Everyone leaves one by one. Buck receives a kiss on the cheek from his sister, insistent and full of a meaning he doesn't want to think too hard on. A pat on the shoulder from Eddie as he tells him he'll catch a ride with Ravi back to his place. Nods, soft touches, maybe some worry, mostly exhaustion, as everyone leaves.

His body deflates when they are all gone, the wall behind him supporting all his weight.

Minnesota.

Bobby is going to be buried in Minnesota with his family.

It was really happening.

There was a heaviness in his chest, in his feet, his knees felt fragile.

"Evan?"

He's been doing so well.

He's been keeping it in. He's been helping Chimney, Maddie, Eddie. He's been trying to be okay. He's been managing it. He couldn't break apart, not now, not when they needed him. He said so.

But it's that soft voice, always soft when he said his name. It's a comforting, not intrusive touch on his elbow. It's concern, care.

He's been doing so well.

A sob rattles his chest and he finds himself in the arms of his ex-boyfriend, face hiding in his neck. His hands surely wrinkling the back of Tommy's coat with the way he's clutching it. One of Tommy's hands settles at the back of Buck's head, his fingers tangling in his hair and the other at his back, a warm, steady touch that makes him feel safe, held.

Tommy doesn't tell him that it'll be okay, doesn't try to shush his cries, he just holds him. Holds him in his comforting arms and lets him cry, lets him feel.

Buck doesn't know how long it's passed until he takes a deep shuddering breath, tears drying in his cheeks, against Tommy's coat. All he knows is the way Tommy's hand moves up and down his back, the way his fingers scratch his scalp.

He feels a soft, barely there kiss placed at his temple, right at the edge of his birthmark and he tightens his arms around Tommy.

"Thank you."

His voice comes out as a whisper almost.

Tommy's thumb caresses his ear, his hand moving to the side of his face in a soft touch. It makes Buck lean his head away, further enough along Tommy's shoulder to look up at him. To see his wet eyes, the redness of them, the grief in his face.

Buck's hands travel farther up on Tommy's back, hoping to be just as comforting as the other man can be.

"You lost him too, I'm sorry."

Tommy's lips tick up in a soft smile, disbelieving but so soft, and he nods. "You're going to be okay, Evan."

He can't help the tension in his muscles at that. Tommy notices, of course he does.

"That's, uh, that's what he told me before-" Buck clears his throat. "That I was gonna be okay and that the others are gonna need me." He sighs, looking down at the fabric of Tommy's coat. "I tried, I-I failed."

"Evan," His thumb catches on his chin, tilting his head back up, making eye contact. "I don't think he meant that you had to close yourself off to everyone," Buck frowns and Tommy runs his fingers along the wrinkles in his forehead, almost succeeding in smoothing them all. "You are going to be okay. Bobby knew how much you grew, how strong you are. But you have to take your time and grieve him," Tommy smiles, that small but so full smile of his. "You are not alone. You have people to lean on. That's how he knew you're going to be okay."

Buck feels fresh tears forming in his eyes, running down his cheek. Tommy lets his words linger in the silence between them, his thumb occasionally catching the tears halfway down.

"I'm gonna be okay."

Tommy nods, he smiles, that proud smile of his and Buck feels his chest fill with how much he missed Tommy's smiles, how much he missed him. Buck brings a hand up to the other man's face, his thumb catching the corner of Tommy's lips, feeling his smile.

"You are."

"And you're going to be one of the people I can lean on?"

He sees the flicker of fear in Tommy's eyes, the hope. Watches as Tommy takes a deep breath, steadies himself.

"For as long as you need me."

It's not the time. Not yet. But it's as close to something as they've been. Buck's heart pounds against his chest, feels Tommy's beat fast from where his hand settles on his chest.

"And if that's for a long time?"

"For as long as you need me." Tommy repeats.

"Promise?"

Tommy's eyes glance between his lips, his eyes, trying to decypher everything that goes on in Buck's brain. He always believed he could, always believed that Tommy had this special power to see into what Buck needed, wanted.

His lips touch Buck's, soft, chaste, but so much more than that.

Buck still believes.

"Promise."

[sillyswriting]

: ̗̀➛ winter soldier james 'bucky' barnes - 02

cw : kidnapping, some sort of stockholm syndrome, possessiveness, obsession, violence, kinda dark theme, (badly translated russian surely)

ㅤㅤ     ㅤ  ㅤㅤㅤ collection - prev ⋆ next

you had never wanted to be at hydra. so why, in this moment, did you find yourself missing it? the realization caught you by surprise.

that night had been a nightmare. you had woken to the sound of alarms, screaming warnings in russian, then in english.

breach in the winter soldier's containment--proceed with caution. this is not a drill.

nothing could have been more terrifying. you knew exactly what he was capable of, and you had no real training beyond medicine. that night, you were certain you were going to die. but you should have known better. you should have known he would never harm you.

the winter soldier had moved through the hydra base like a ghost--silent, unstoppable. even with the alarms blaring, no one saw him coming. not that it mattered. he had killed them all within minutes. not a single one had escaped.

except you.

you hadn't exactly escaped--he had taken you with him. he had seen the fear in your eyes, the way your body trembled with raw terror when he had come to find you. he knew what you were thinking. you believed he was going to kill you.

"Ангел, не ты. Ты знаешь это," he had told you, just before the drugs he put in your system took effect. his hand brushed against your cheek, slow and deliberate--gentle, almost reverent. like a mother soothing a child. like something fragile he never wanted to break.

you had woken up here--in a cramped, dirty flat, somewhere unknown. but you were certain you weren't in russia anymore. one look at the architecture told you much, still eastern europe. if you had to guess, probably bulgaria or romania.

you realized he must have drugged you even more--your memories were fragmented, mere flashes of the journey but no real moments of consciousness. you vaguely recalled long car rides, endless roads stretching ahead, but nothing solid. nothing real.

you didn't understand what had pushed him over the edge. you knew they hadn't treated him right, but that was nothing new. for over a year and a half, you had watched them break him down piece by piece. so why now? what had changed?

the winter soldier didn't know himself. he had simply felt it in his gut--an undeniable pull telling him it was time to leave. so he did. simple as that. they had stripped him down to nothing but an animal, a savage dog running on instinct alone. a beast willing to do whatever it took to survive.

what he didn't know was that he had been right all along. they had been planning to put him back into cryo--back to sleep, back into the depths of his fractured mind. it was hard enough to exist in it while awake; he wasn't about to let them drag him under again.

his instincts had never failed him before. and this time was no different.

at first, he was just going to leave. slip away into the night, take you with him, and be done with it. but then, he heard them talking about you.

there weren't many women on the base, and the way they spoke about you--filthy, vile--made his vision go red. in that moment, any thought of restraint disappeared. you were the reason they all died. he could have spared them, could have simply taken you and gone. but they had to open their disgusting mouths.

the winter soldier wouldn't allow that. you were his. no one spoke about you like that. no one even dared. filthy pigs--they got what they deserved.

you were surprised to realize that he didn't really approach you. he kept his distance, watching from afar--just as he had back at the base. his gaze was relentless, unwavering--always on you. sometimes, you could feel it, the way his mind stripped you bare, piece by piece. but he never acted on those thoughts.

they had trained him well. obey orders, suppress impulses. want, but never take.

the only difference was that now, he allowed himself small luxuries. he left the flat, returning with whatever he thought you might need--food, clothes he assumed you'd like, a few books in english.

in a way, it was almost endearing. he was trying to take care of you, in the only way he knew how.

truth be told, it was not the best life, but it was a lot less stressing than working at hydra. you might have been a scientific asset, the looming threat of your employers was constant. always, awaiting results. you were told some of your colleagues were fired from bad results, but you were pretty sure they were not part of this world anymore.

now? you were with a world wide criminal. the winter soldier, even since shield had been compromised, was on every mouth. all his criminal record had been out in the world, and everyone was looking for him. every government, ready for his to answer his crimes. but he was more intelligent.

you were on that list too.

with all of hydra's files leaked into the world, your name was out there, buried somewhere among them. you were a target now. after discovering the massacre at your old base, they had speculated that you were one of the winter soldier's accomplices. as if they didn't already know--he worked alone.

and now, they were hunting you too.

the winter soldier was your only hope of avoiding a lifetime behind bars. and if there was one thing you had truly come to understand about him, it was this--he had no intention of ever letting you go. better make the best of it.

currently, he was watching you read. he was standing in the corner of the room, all stiff, awaiting. what? you didn't know. it didn't matter. it had been almost a month since you've been locked in this apartment.

"нам скоро придется переехать." his gruff voice broke the silence.

he didn't talk much. mostly, he just watched.

you tried engaging him, attempted to have any kind of interaction beyond his constant, unblinking stare. but he gave you little to work with--just a silent nod when he agreed or a shake of his head when he didn't. it was driving you insane, you knew he spoke english.

for some reason, he was fixated on you--fascinated, obsessed, even. you had dared to test your limits once, stepping outside the flat in a desperate attempt to leave. he had been gone for a few hours, at the market surely. however, the second your foot touched the street, you felt it. his eyes.

his reputation preceded him. once the winter soldier set his sights on someone, escape was impossible. you knew any attempt at running would only end with you right back where you started. there was no way out. so you had gotten back inside. and he didn't say a thing.

you tried to make the best of it. in some twisted way, you considered yourself lucky. he never touched you. never forced anything on you. apart from the drugs that night at the base, he hadn't done anything to alter your mind or body. he even slept on the floor, if he slept at all.

there was no intimacy. just distance. just silence. just him--watching.

you still didn't know russian, so whatever he had just said was lost on you. looking up from your book, you met his gaze and shrugged, wordlessly telling him you had no clue what he meant.

you understood soon enough.

a few days later, he woke you, and there it was--a bag packed with the small comforts you had collected, waiting at the foot of your bed.

"Пойдем, ангел." his eyes swept over you, slow and deliberate. there was something in the way he looked at you--possessive, assured, like you already belonged to him.

and for some twisted reason, it affected you. your mind had linked him to safety. he was the reason they hadn't found you. the reason you were still breathing.

and you'd have to be blind to deny that the soldat--the only name he ever responded to--was a breathtaking man. his eyes were hypnotic, a storm of ice and steel, and his body was nothing short of powerful--built for war, honed to perfection. he had no sense of modesty, often wandering around half-dressed, entirely unbothered. but you had been his doctor--you knew his body burned hotter than most.

more than once, you had caught yourself stealing glances, letting your eyes linger on the hard lines of his body when you thought he wasn't looking. but he always was.

it comforted him, knowing you liked what you saw. his strength, his power--he showed it off for you, only for you. a silent promise of protection. somewhere, buried deep in the fractured pieces of his mind, he could almost remember a time when women looked at him like that without fear.

you had read about him, the man he used to be before hydra sank their claws into him. james buchanan barnes had been kind, brave--a good man.

but that james was long gone. only the soldat remained.

the only time you had ever called him james, it had unraveled into a nightmare. his eyes had gone distant, clouded with confusion, as if the name had fractured something deep inside him. he had spent the rest of the day unsettled, lost in a past he couldn't quite grasp.

at night, you had woken to his screams--raw, agonized, like something inside him was breaking apart. you had never said it again, too afraid of what it might do to him. he didn't hurt you. but he had hurt himself.

with his own metal arm, he had struck himself again and again, splitting his forehead open, as if trying to beat the memories out of his skull. as if he could erase them through sheer force.

you had patched him up, careful, deliberate--extra gentle.

the winter soldier had never feared your touch before, but that night was different. there was something wary in his gaze, something unsettled.

when you reached for his face with the alcohol-soaked cloth, his flesh hand shot out, gripping your wrist--not harshly, but firm enough to make you pause. a silent warning. a flicker of hesitation, like he wasn't sure if he could handle even the smallest sting.

somehow, you knew the man he had been was still here.

when you were locked in yet another dirty flat, founding yourself missing the so-called freedom you had at hydra. at least there, you could wander the base as much as you wanted, steal moments of solitude, escape--if only for a little while.

this wasn't living; this was merely survival.

but now? now, you were under constant watch. no space, no reprieve. just his eyes, always on you.

he was on edge, you could tell by the way his eyes would wonder to the windows, the door. something was bothering him, eating him alive.

"Они все ближе. Я не позволю им добраться до тебя." he spoke with a quiet, deadly certainty, his eyes burning with unwavering dedication. he was a soldier, and you--whether you wanted it or not--were his mission.

a protector. an obsession. a knight twisted by violence and devotion. one you had never asked for.

and, like always, he had been right.

they took you--the one time the winter soldier let you out of his sight.

now, he was a rabid dog unleashed, tearing through anyone in his way. he didn't care what it took, how many bodies he had to leave in his wake. the entire world could burn for all he cared.

he was going to get you back. just like the good soldat he was.

Ангел, не ты. Ты знаешь это. - angel, not you. you know that.

нам скоро придется переехать. - we are going to have to move soon.

Пойдем, ангел. - come on, angel.

Они все ближе. Я не позволю им добраться до тебя. - they're getting closer. i'm not gonna let them get to you.

[bluerosefox]

The Flow of Time

Hmmm *has done a lot of deaged Danny prompts/ideas*

Let's shake things up a bit shall we???

Deaged Tim!

Tim, or rather Red Robin, was turned into a child Ra's (to steal and raise him as his evil heir)

And as he's about to be saved by the Bats. He hears what was sound of a ticking clock before he begins to fall.

And he tumbled and fell like Alice falling into Wonderland.

-x-x-

"CW what did you do?" A tired voice asked

"What I had to. Should I had left him there, they would had failed and he would had lead his world from the shadows under the false Immortal's teachings....A world does not need be in ruin to be on its path of horror and destruction, Daniel." Came the response.

"Ancients..." swore the other voice under their breath.

"Raise him well and in due time his once family will find him again. He will awaken confused and questioning, his past foggy to a point in his mind. Just make sure he is ready for it. The flow of time between worlds can be both kind and cruel." We're the words said.

"Clockwork wait! What does that-"

That was all Tim heard as he tried to wake up, but he quickly fell back asleep when a hand gently petted his head, snuggled and bundled up in a dark purple cloak and the sounds of ticking clocks all around him worked like a strange lullaby.

When he woke up next, Tim found himself in a small bedroom, a guest room that once been someone's actual bedroom judging from the glow in the dark stars still on the ceiling above. But it seemed to had been turned into a spare room for guests from how there wasn't anything else personal in the room besides basic stuff.

Tim, confused and wondering where he was and how he got there jumped when he heard the door open and meet the eyes of a young adult with black hair and blue eyes.

"Hello Tim, good to see you're awake. My name is Danny Fenton and... Welcome to my worlds version of Earth I guess."

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

And if i told you i have temporarily abandoned drawing to write a Crazy Carl fic what then

[sircantus]

markus sircantus i really really really hope that you continue to be haunted by the sbi demons for years to come. your fics are the last reliable foodsource for a starving fandom, we depend on you

that being said, the fics are very tasty 👍 nom nom

Oh im so so haunted. And its like a doomed sort of haunting too because its so contained to tumblr and ao3 and you people are all enablers so the Second i ever feel a Smidge of “hm maybe something else?” someone replies to one of my posts like “and theyre family” and i fall to my knees with all the demons screaming out as i cry “AND THEYRE FAMILYYYY”

[dpxdcsideblog]

!WIP! The Case Of The Marine

Danny’s an old contact, really. Someone he met back when he first started out. He had a habit of wandering a bit too close to where he shouldn’t and walking out perfectly fine. Drove Jason crazy how he knew some Batman level type things without ever getting real dirty.

If anyone asks, Danny is a little crazy. He digs and digs til he finds the body and doesn’t stop there. He investigates and gets information you decide not to dig into how he got it. 

Good to know that crazy likes crazy, or whatever it is they say. Jason never really had a problem with him. He is crazy smart and definitely walking the tightrope of becoming a rogue, but a good contact. Around him you learn to play the game if you want a prize, or trick the game master and steal his secrets.

But that’s not important right now.

There’s a shipment of weapons coming in and Jason wants to know why. Of course, he could ask Barbie, but he’s heard the big bat’s been pissy lately. There are times to pick his battles and this? This is not one of them. 

So he off to Danny to find out the root of the problem and maybe a little more.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Four felt pretty satisfied, if he was being honest.

It hadn’t been a terrible night. Nor had it been a particularly hard one. But his patient had started out somewhat unstable, showing signs of a brewing infectious response, febrile, unstable blood pressure, and shaking despite being sedated. Four had spent hours in his room trying to sort things out, hours trying to implement the plan the night team had put together during rounds.

And, slowly, things had started to stabilize.

After that, Four spent the next few hours just tidying things up and doing maintenance work - changing lines to prevent infection, cleaning messes, taking out the filled trash cans, keeping up with medication infusions running dry, checking vitals and outputs. Over the course of a twelve hour shift, he’d probably sat down for maybe an hour over multiple little breaks.

And, in the end, the patient was on less sedation and fewer blood pressure medications by the time day shift came.

So yes, Four was pretty satisfied. At least until the Monday-Friday day crew rolled in, checking lines, pointing out caps that Four had missed, complaining about the state of the patient’s dressing that Four had missed.

And suddenly, all that hard work felt completely disregarded, and Four found himself in a sour mood as he headed towards the parking garage.

He caught sight of Legend, who looked similarly grouchy. “How was your night?”

”Fine,” the travel nurse shrugged. “Just some annoying patients.”

”Oh?”

Legend huffed. “One guy said I wasn’t taking good care of him simply because he was a Zora. Like I just was a racist to him. Meanwhile, his chief complaint was back pain that he’d had for four days, while my other patients had chest pain, an asthma attack, and a drug overdose. The doc gave the guy a muscle relaxer and some pain medicine and we were discharging him and he said I hurt him when I took the fucking pulse-ox sticker off his finger and demanded a bandaid. I hate people.”

Four grimaced. At least his own patient hadn’t really been an issue, particularly since the guy had been intubated and sedated the entire night. “Were the others at least decent?”

”Oh yeah,” Legend answered casually. “Chest pain dude was pretty chill considering he was probably having an nSTEMI. Even cracked some jokes. OD was an OD, usual nonsense. Before that group I had a teenager who had broken her ankle from running in heels and her friends kept trying to make her laugh so that was nice, and then there was the two-year-old who fell down a couple stairs… uh, what else, priapism guy came back—"

”Not priapism guy,” Four laughed. “He really never is gonna learn.”

”Hey!”

Legend and Four turned to see Twilight and Wild trotting towards them with a wave.

”Wait, are we all on night shift rotation right now?” Four asked, baffled. “I swear you were on days, Twi.”

”I picked up extra,” Twilight answered blearily. “I hate myself.”

”Oh shut up, you love night shift,” Legend huffed. “Best time to work.”

”I’m a morning person,” Twilight grumbled. “I want to go to bed.”

”I say we should get breakfast together,” Wild proposed.

Twilight rolled his eyes. “You always want to eat. I want to sleep.”

"I'm down for food," Legend said, shrugging.

"Breakfast it is!" Wild clapped his hands happily as Twilight groaned.

[misc-obeyme]

You were the one who should have been scared, but the fear you see in Satan's eyes is deeper and more shattering than anything you could have felt in that moment. You want to kiss him, to ease that terror you see behind his anger. The shivering horror that struck through the rage when it came too close to you.

Whenever Satan is out of control, that fear lights up his eyes when he looks at you. You've seen it almost every time, the only one to inspire it in him. You know what it means. He's scared of himself. He's scared of hurting you.

And yet, you are not afraid. You never have been and you never will be. You know that he needs your touch, to hear your voice calling him back to himself. You know that when he's lost in the hurricane of his wrath, you are the one thing that can ground him again, keep him from leaving more destruction in his wake.

So you say his name. You tell him you love him. You watch that fear and anger drain away, the demon form retreat. And you catch him when he stumbles into your arms.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[sugarpasteltmnt]

he is helping 💙

[audliminal]

It's Just a Game, Right? Pt 9

Masterpost

"Well, it certainly looks like your suspicions were correct." Tim says, staring at the decoded response, as Bernard posts the plain text.

"Yeah, it definitely looks like it, huh? This is practically an entire clue drop in and of itself."

"I mean, it kind of is. If they wanted to encourage us, al they really would've needed is to parrot themselves with the 'dig deeper' thing you said you kept finding."

"Ha, yeah that would've been a little more succinct." Bernard laughs, and turns back towards Tim as he finishes typing. "So what else is it meant to do, then?"

"Well, on one level it shows us how the clues are supposed to be solved." Tim says, pointing to the steps they'd gone through. "In the future, we should be looking for the keys to each step in the solution of the prior step."

"They can't just do that every time, though. It'd get too predictable.

"Maybe not every time, but it definitely gives us a better idea of where to start."

"Yeah, I guess it can't hurt to look. Anything else, Mr. Genius?"

"I'm not a genius."

"You totally are, but whatever. Tell me more of your mad science thinking."

"Not a mad scientist either. I think we need to start looking at whether individual details are intended to be taken literally or metaphorically."

"Oh." Bernard blinks, then glances over at his computer.

"Did you think of something?" Tim asks. The implications of the response are sprawling by itself, but if the contents are referencing something Bernard's already seen...

"Well, it's just. The first video was pictures, right? And people take photos of stuff they wanna remember so, like. To be seen is to be remembered?"

"That... Makes sense." Tim murmurs.

"Yeah, but it doesn't explain what the rest is about."

"One step at a time. If the people in the first video are our messengers, and they're concerned with being remembered, then I think we should be looking for more information on who they are."

"Right. So I should pull out the clues that reference them, and we can go over those next?

"Sounds like a plan."