#and that was a replication task… this task is my OWN page. i decide how it looks; i don’t have to dig around trying to recreate

[fingertipsmp3]

I so badly do not want to do my homework omg. But who else is going to do it? Nobody

[chloe--bug]

Shame

I have chosen to again be fond of the nickname my father gave me when I was little. When I dream, it is not often that I see more than a white ball rolling on the white floor of maybe a floating orange box. But sometimes I dream of baby Chloe. At the time, I was only a product of my mother. I am now a product of 21 years of the world.

When I think of chloe bug I think "free, close, empathetic, young," maybe a sprinkle of mischief. I remember my father's friends commenting on the glimmer in my eye and getting a kick out of me when I winked. I have yet to come to a decision on whether that's a little weird or not.

I shared my journals with my mother (not really by my choice, but I understand why she wanted to read them.) so now I have to share a few pages from my journal every now and then with a few people I chose to trust. It is strange how once you've done something for your parents, you feel the need to do it for someone else to replicate the feeling.

There is something different about living in a small spot on the internet. I like to think that the only people that have seen what I have chosen to share are those that I see following me, but I am mature to think that my posts have probably wandered elsewhere. I would rather you didn't share them with people but I understand if you do.

I spend a lot of my time on the internet talking about things I wouldn't talk about with friends out loud. Not because I don't trust them or don't believe they'd like to hear me say it, but because I worry about burdening people with the task of deciding what face to make, when to nod and when to furrow their brow, what to say in response that reads "interested and caring but not controlling or overbearing." I try not to spend so much time picturing the effort it takes to react to something I came up with, but I myself spend much of my time struggling to react to my own thoughts. In the end, I am only trying to save everyone a little leg work.

I often walk for five or so miles with the express purpose of mulling over something I feel shameful about. There is nothing wrong with feeling it, and moving my body helps me sweat it out. If it were up to me, I wouldn't have done the thing I feel so regretful of. If it were up to me, you'd have no idea. But every good woman must wear her heart on her sleeve!

I am very familiar with a guilt bubble in my throat, dreaming of the past, wondering what went wrong, what I could have done differently. Something I wrote before: "There's something about me that is prone to ceramic vase syndrome (the satisfying crash, the silence that follows)" It's true – I have yet to figure out how to break the cycle. For now, I put on my headphones and go to the park... I write in my journal and I think it over as I go to sleep.

[rumblelibrary]

The Diary of Doctor Laszlo Kreizler

Chapter 1

Synopsis: Alienist’s notes are private, sometimes gruesome, secrets of others and of himself.Those pages belongs to secrecy and decadence, have a glimpse to this world made of drafts, notes, accidents and reflections. Or maybe it is you the only person that should ever reach for it.

While you read this imagine Laszlo mostly at the end of his day, scraping the ideas and the thoughts, adjusting previous notes with additions, closing the day behind himself with a couple of sentences while sitting in his evening robe, a good glass of whiskey and his glasses bridged almost at the tip of his nose. Or maybe imagine yourself, you sneaky thing, reach for it from a far shelf.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: listen, this is the set of ideas and confessions of a man living in the 1890’s. Most of them will be outdated, rough, even deprecating in some analysis of the roles of men, women and social status, religion, etc.So be prepared, my point is to make Laszlo reflect upon those topics, but to be as faithful as I can to his time. Mention of death, mutilation, self harm and a minor depiction of a fight. Psychologically troubled young children ahead! Author’s note: I am a nerd for a good Victorian novel and a sexy Alienist.I have always been charmed by Laszlo’s mind and inner conflicts. So I took the chance and tried to have a run into that rollercoaster.  The story is placed between season 1 and season 2.

Diary belonging to Dr. Laszlo Kreizler.  This is a professional book of annotations over medical treatments of an alienist toward his patients. Do not disclose and send it back to the address if found: Kreizler’s Institute, xxxxxx, New York City (NY) L.K.

Samuel Griswold Goodrich, Illustrated Natural History of the Animal Kingdom (c1859). Contributed for digitization by University Library, University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign.

Schiller in his “Die Weltweisen” wrote: So long as philosophy keeps together the structure of the Universe so long does it maintain the world’s machinery by hunger and love. From the philosopher point of view sexual life takes a subordinate position in human’s life, from recent studies pushed by European philosophers, everything is about sexuality and its development. I like to think of the experience of being an alienist as the process of Queen Penelope that, while waiting for her husband Ulysses return, undoes her craftwork every night. I undo the fabulous constructs of people’s beliefs to go back to the rough sketch that stands at the beginning of their loss, their complex, their pain. Maybe that’s why working with children is so motivating and fascinating. They can be saved and yet, I am well aware, some of those sketches already traced in their young lives equal to scars that not even the most advanced theories could cure. But I can sooth them. I can prevent them the torment, the anguish, the recollection at night of those monsters. I feel like a poet would be a better alienist than a philosopher, but I have got no poetry nor philosophy in my veins, but the cold experience of the razor blade judgment of Life itself.

Today I observed a fight among the children at the Institute. Age range between 10 and 12. Boys. The fight was over the possession of a side of the playground, the territory of a pack  of youngsters formed under the name of Steven. Peculiar lad, coming from a military background finds comfort in replicating the schemes he lived in his family. He takes the role of the Father/Captain of the team and subjects children that come from a similar background story, but do not posses his same attitude to the command. All quiet on the front, until the space he declared is own spot got affected by the presence of others.  Intruders. I knowingly let the events unfold to see how Steven would react to his challenged authority. His reaction was, at first, worded, a sketch, a stage-play of an action he witnessed over and over, and he knew the part so well that some of the contending kids lowered their stance against him. Among considering to mildly intervene into this pyramid scheme of authority, another boy, Jan, calls himself on the role of the educator and hero of the masses and proceeds to unfold a wild and well assessed punch on the newly declared dictator face. Balance is established again. No need for me to arbitrate, once more the laws of nature seem to apply to children as in a state of nature.

Meet John Moore over lunch. His job at the newspaper is picking up, he is charmed by the spirits and the wits that he finds in his shared office with all the other writers. He mentions many, goes on and on over qualities and troubles, gossips and tendencies, and even little scandals here and there. To be aware of all those details gives me no interest, but to see a dear friend so invested clearly gives me something to pick up. To consider also the amount of details and the way he describes this or that member of the journal, I can do a small exercise of analysis. It is almost too easy because John is painfully genuine, even some of the kids at the institute would beat him hands down in a battle of lies. The more he likes somebody, the more he goes on about all the details and the characteristics, often letting aside the physical appearance. When he doesn’t like somebody he has a couple of adjectives for the wits and around four or five for the physical aspects that usually indulge on some repulsive idiosyncrasies.  John is a man that painfully fits in the storyline of The Picture of Dorian Gray: to him physical beauty is spiritual beauty and, of course, the other way around. This part of him surely intrigues me, makes me want to tease more from him. But, as a friend, it concerns me as John is way too prone to purposelessly decide that somebody with good eyes is also a good human being, which is a very romantic and admirably naive way of judging matters. I noticed some names that keep repeating in his narration. I dread that it is synonymous of a soon encounter from my side with the objects of his admiration. Fetiches, I dare to say, that I will have to annihilate before they sediment into his mind, perpetuating a narration that soon sees John being mislead by others.

Reserved: Tickets for the Eroica, Symphony n. 3 by Ludwig van Beethoven. Thursday evening.

Note on the show: the first movement lacked the pathos needed to begin with, I am not sure that the guest orchestra really managed to portray the wider emotional ground needed to withstand the whole representation. As the evening progressed there were some outstanding performances by the cellists. Still not approving the choice of reprising the early quick finale movement against the lengthy set of variations and fugue that we are used to in presence of the Eroica. Underwhelming the performance of the horn and oboe, vital in the comprehension of the genius of Beethoven. 

Niki is a new addition of the Institute, quite old for the standards. He is already 16, he will leave when summer ends to some expensive college his family meant him to stay. His parents expect me to make him “normal” in the time we are allowed together.  He is Austrian and I let him act it out like I don’t understand German for the first week of hist stay until today. I believe I hit his pride, which is good, in the moment I answered back to one of his sneaky comments. Now he knows. He is not safe from me, he doesn’t like it. The young man has a tendency to danger, risky tasks and edgy situations. In his mother’s own words “Niki is not afraid of anything”. The phrase didn’t raise any excitement in the father, rather some sort of painful acceptance that is role as the alpha male of the house is probably not only being challenged, but  already diminished, if not abolished. I have taken in consideration that Niki will break himself a bone or two in the process of the therapy, probably out of the spite of boredom or rebellion. It took him less than few days to turn himself into an outcast among the outcasts, which only drives me closer to analyse the complexity of his narcissistic wall of self defence. I gave him a physical challenge to lift a certain weight, he is a pretty skinny one, he didn’t like the challenge, but I am sure he will take it. He is a brainy guy, he hates to be questioned on unfamiliar ground. He won’t sleep at night thinking about it.  A challenge, in this first phase, can only bring me closer to the ease of his pains. To continue the observation.

It is a sad privilege of medicine, in particular the one I practice, to be able to witness the weaknesses of the human nature and the reverse side of life. Nevertheless, I oblige this same privilege of the study as life moves into shades of darkness. To be aware of it gives more solace to my soul than to be victim of patiently waiting for the inevitable unfolding of the events. To be able to understand more about psychology would bring more comfort and elevation to any human being, the times might not be there yet, but eventually something will move into the direction of a more wholesome approach.

Dinner meeting with Sara Howard, at the restaurant Jardin Des Cygnes, 7 pm sharp.  Do not expect to reach the dessert. Do not know if John will be participating due to undeniable tension among the two and the fatal despise of John over French cuisine.

The case that Sara unfolded tonight to my ears feels more and more like pulled out from some gothic book or from the mind of a Roman historian that needed to justify the godly origins of an Emperor. One killing, apparently random, a very constructed iconography over the body. Signs and insults, shapes and drawings. Is this a work of art? Does the killer wants his victim to be his Mona Lisa? His David? I am charmed and destabilised. If this was a murder like any other, then why to spend so much time into it? Based on the description the act of killing itself was quick: a sharp cut over the throat, almost like not wanting to ruin too much the surface to use as base for, what? I keep rerunning those symbols over and over as Sara described them to me, my mind is flooded with the designs of greek philosophers that needed to explain themselves why the sky is above our head and never collapses on us. Hilarious how, no matter the science advancement, in the mind of many the sky stands inevitably overt their shoulders, suffocates them, brings them to a death of the soul and not of the body. Is all this graphic charade indeed only a form to scream for attention?  To stress the eyes of an unaware viewer? It seems ridiculously elaborate, a scream for attention would be quick, it would be like guided by instinct, not reasoning, craftwork. Any man with a knife can paint in blood red the walls of a room and that’s asking for attention. That is the primal howl: look at me! I am here! But this one.  I don’t know yet.

Spent the early morning reading anew my copy of The Metamorphosis by Ovid. Didn’t touch it in a long time and I got bedazzled by the world of terrible sensuality, anger and selfishness of those gods and mortals. I think back at all the deviances and weaknesses of human kind and I try to relate it to all of those humanoid figures. Niki would be a minotaur, the lonesome son left in the labyrinth and his strive for success is his bull’s head. Or maybe a centaur, because of his wits and strategic thinking. I might keep up the process, maybe this is the way to understand my patients better, to understand the killer better. Must remember not to romanticise it. Greek gods were probably the first form of self indulging of a society that needed gods to be forgiving and allowing favours and punishments, but only in exchange of sacrifices. But the sacrifice never comes from the God’s will, but from the will of the man that perpetuates the act of killing. To sacrifice someone or something is the sadistic response to a lack of love deeply inherited in human mind that becomes neurotic. Is the killer giving the God of his own neurosis a body to feast upon? 

I talked with Jan this morning. The young boy is about 10, but he acts like a full grown adult. I could easily asses that’s the reason why he could challenge Steven in that fight. Two children mimicking adults situations they know too well. Jan is son of an industrial man, but he is also son of the dialectics of the industrial revolution. He sounds like he swallowed some of those books about working class rights and communism, probably pushed by a resentful surrounding (mother?uncle? the midwife?) over the social role of his father. As much as incredibly smart and lectured, Jan lost most of his early occasions in life by spending a considerable amount of time using his fists. The anger ever present in the young boy always surprises me, he seems to be holding a power, a strength of a full grown man in those tiny arms. Nevertheless, he is already the tallest of the group. He is surely an idealist, which makes him also tragically fragile. His strength mixed with his heart of gold can make him the best of the heroes or the worst of the villains. He apologised for the fight, he specified how he didn’t like the sound of Steven’s voice, more than the sound, the level of pitch.  I can’t stand somebody shouting orders, I just don’t listen anymore. He is so mature even about his own feelings, almost a gentleman in his chivalry toward the weaker children, honest with his open heart and resentful against any form of injustice.  I am not spared by his ways, he would come at me whenever he feels like I was being partial over some of the kids, his sense of justice blinds him and transform a perfectly balanced boy into a ranging animal.

Ordered book, to be delivered around tomorrow evening: Introduction à la méthode de Léonard de Vinci by Paul Valéry. Suddenly feeling myself as a gross ignorant in art themes. I always regarded myself aware of the artistic personalities and tendencies of present and past, but this new amount of perceptions over the human figure and the human body leads me to document myself more. I could ask John for advice, but he wouldn’t take things at matter that seriously. I can almost hear him say how I can make gruesome a pleasant topic such as art. I should probably wait to see the body to push any further aesthetic study, but I find myself not being able to stop. I reckon, I can allow myself a vice or two.

Today I saw the body of the killed man, courtesy of the Isaacson's. To be fair, I had underestimated it. In Sara’s descriptions, probably due to her more analytic mind, all the charm of the representation got lost in favour of a less cryptic and reasonable understanding of the act. Sara got what some alienists will call a masculine mind, which I don’t perfectly agree on. If I apply that same approach John would be a very feminine mind, all wrapped up in romanticising even the ugliest. I guess that dividing the world in “fragile and gentle” and “strong and powerful” is just easier to explain the fluctuation of something that doesn’t need a real name or a category like human inclinations on thoughts.  I got a feverish sense of patience by looking at the body. Each symbol traced with sapient slowness, dense of the time that the killer spent with the body. That is a work of hours, he had time and meaning. He had resources and was able to spend not less than the time he needed to reach, a vision? An ideal? A message? Is it the message meant to be understood? Am I supposed to unravel it or it is maybe just the way the killer communicates within himself? And if I do decifrate the code, will that bring me closer to him? Or to his next victim?

Reminder: ask John to replicate all the symbols on the bodies in the correct measure and order. It might be needed some hard convincing. Addition: scheduled meeting, his house, 3 pm.

It wasn’t a day like any other when I met you. Or maybe it was, and that’s why I got so struck by it and now I am here playing it over and over through what my memory clung on so desperately. In my own experience, life was often similar to swimming in a lake. Those rich, dense lakes in the north of (illegible cancelled word) were my father used to bring us during summer. I still feel the pull, the draw down toward the abyss. It ashamed me, in a way, the fear that such a simple feeling aroused in my young mind, unaware nevertheless, that such a feeling would follow me through all my existence. It was a prophecy and, like most of the prophecies, was a riddle. I cradle in my heart the charm of those days, the mindless happiness. The foolish feeling of freedom. Little I knew that freedom would be taken away from me that soon, that the body that used to navigate me over the dense waters, helping me to fight the haul toward the unknown, would become my own cage. That day. Today. The day where I met you, the day I was afloat.  The child gasping for air felt the wrench become a gentle push and now he is floating on his back over the scary waters of reality and malice. It gave me relief and it gave me terror, because since that very moment I knew that I would never be able to move on from the sight of you. From the feeling of your eyes lingering on me. From the smile you so easily shone upon me. From the whiff of imported perfume that hit me when you turned on side exploding that swan like neck. And nothing, not even my stern look, could dim that wave of hope that your sole presence washed over me. The abyss roars, calls me to a home of damnation and terror and curses my name and yet you repeated that hell-bound name of mine after me and I felt safe.

John told me so much about you, it feels like I have always known you.

The rope is gone from my neck, the guillotine won’t fall on me, I am spared, I am free.

I have read your latest article, I am thrilled to help with the case.

I am in disbelief.

Your voice.

Dr. Kreizler

How dare you? How dare you to come into my life, to appear, like a vision, mystical, in a way I despised at University when all those theology students talked about the divine. In this very moment I can’t recollect much of what you said, something about the case, about going with John at the obituary. It feels confusing, I feel overstimulated, my memory fails me, I am not sure anymore. I write these few lines and it is passed the hour of the witches and I wish, I demand, to never see you again, because life should never grant hope to a condemned man. 

[daisylovesatla]

very rough draft of the start of a zutara fan fic

AU where Aang and Katara don't end up together cuz it doesn't make sense that it would be written that way but anyway, I wrote some pages about what would happen if Zuko's lightning bolt actually hurt him a lot more than it did...my ADHD brain can't remember where I saw that AU from but when I do I will tag u I promise...anyway it's Katara by herself at the palace healing Zuko and then the rest of the Gaang arrives from the Earth Kingdom, where Aang and Suki and Toph and Sokka were all fighting against the fire nation's ambush, cuz it would take more than like. a week probably to get to the same place as Zuko and Katara. Anyway I hope it makes sense I'm tentatively posting the first chapter in case everyone hates it but it's only 3,000 words I think.

(eta the ao3 link)

Book 4: Reconstruction...:)

Book 4: Reconstruction

I need some fresh air. She sighs to herself, rubbing her sore wrists and rising up from the cushion she was kneeling on. Keeping her eyes closed, afraid of the emotions that would flood through her if she snuck a glance at him while she wasn’t intensely focused on his injury, pouring all of her energy into that one spot, both emotional and physical.

It has been two weeks since the comet, and she has been doing all that she can to support him, to try to do something that could in some small way, return the favor for his sacrifice. As soon as her back is to Zuko’s bed, she opens her eyes, and is confronted suddenly with the bigness of this place. The tall, melodramatic metal doors that weigh way more than they need to, the beds with far away canopies rustling above them. Just the mattresses here are the size of her entire igloo back home, and even though it isn’t the first time she has been surrounded by superfluous opulence like this, something about this place feels particularly daunting.

She can sense his pulse, slow, but steady, consistent, as his blood flows through his veins and with it, water. Even when it isn’t a full moon, Katara is able to feel the water in everything, including the people she is surrounded by. She has yet to decide if it is an advantage, or only makes it harder to navigate through the world.

Her legs feel like lead, and she struggles to ignore the dryness of the room, the fires lit in their mantles 10 feet above them sucking all of the moisture out of this space, the lack of water, of that familiarity, making her feel like she is choking, as her breaths become more and more shallow and her heart continues to beat faster and faster, only worsening whenever the memories of that fateful, final Agni Kai come rushing back to her, making everything feel so much worse.

No, I can’t think about that right now. Katara closes her eyes again, and takes a deep breath, trying to replicate the breathing technique Aang taught her the first time he saw her meditating. In through my nose, out through my mouth, that’s what Aang taught me. She tries not to think much more about Aang than this. Too much has happened. Aang is expecting an answer, she is sure of it, an answer she can’t give him. Yet there is a hope swimming just below the surface in her, that this now or never attitude leading up to his battle with Ozai would no longer be there in him, that fire gone, the flames put out.

I have no answer right now, she decides, as she finally gets her legs to take the final steps towards the door. Yearning for a sense of coolness against her increasingly warm skin, she presses her hand against the door, and lets it ground her as she pushes it open, nearly jumping as it creaks and struggles to with each inch that she can shove it open. What is it with rich people and big doors? She chuckles to herself as she remembers storming Ba Sing Se, when things were so simple and yet not simple at all.

Running her fingers through her thick, curly hair trailing down her back, she sucks in all the air that she can in this hallway with much better circulation, finding it easier to keep her balance and move forward. The war may be over, but she is anticipating many battles are going to be fought in the coming weeks and months, battles over territory, freedom, the right to the throne. She has to heal Zuko so that he can advocate for himself, she determines, as she envisions Ozai’s loyal courtiers’ unfounded complaints with Zuko taking the role of the fire lord. She worries for him and she worries for herself. A water tribe peasant, Azula called her during the Agni Kai. Despite her strong demeanor, her ability to inspire other people to recognize their own worth, it is still difficult for Katara not to internalize this when she knows she is surrounded by enemies, no matter how much Iroh tries to reassure her and the rest of them that this is not the case. She has spent far too much time being attacked and assaulted by members of the Fire Nation to naively assume that with a change in power, a change in attitude amongst the people will quickly follow.

Many citizens are still loyal to Ozai. They still see her and Sokka and the rest of the Water Tribe as peasants, as savages with too much power. They are still afraid of waterbenders altogether, as gossip and rumors spread around the nation about Hama in the weeks following her imprisonment. She feels a pang of guilt for how it turned out with her. A Southern Waterbender, alive after all these years that she feared she was the last one, the only one, the one expected to carry on this legacy all by herself. Finally, somebody who understood her struggles, intrinsically, who had fought for so many years to be free, suddenly imprisoned again by people from the same nation that had stolen her away from her home, because she could not let go of her anger against them, like Jet.

She does not want to think about the revenge Hama tried to take on that people. How misdirected it was. How she never wants to be as full of rage and anger and resentment that she would start to do something as heinous.

It doesn’t change that that is how many people from the Fire Nation see her people. She can’t blame Hama for that, it would be wrong to expect any one person to be a representative for their tribe, their culture. “This is all so complicated,” Katara mutters under her breath, as she struggles to breathe, to let herself be free of these thoughts. Her anger, always there, ready to burst out from inside her in the form of an uncontrollable explosion.

Katara barely notices how far she has walked from Zuko’s room, until suddenly she hears a familiar voice call out to her. Startled, she looks up from the floor where she was mindlessly staring as she strolled and sees Sokka and Suki waving over to her from the other side of the hallway.

“Sokka! Suki!” She cries out, as she runs over to them, as fast as she can. “You’re here! You made it!” As she gets closer, she notices the crutch Sokka is leaning on, and her stomach feels like it is full of sand. “Are you okay? I can try my best to heal it, but I’m pretty worn out right now…” She glances at his bandages on his leg and starts to think up the best method for healing him after so much time has passed since his injury. “I’m sorry, I wish I had gotten to it sooner…” Katara begins, but she is interrupted by Sokka,

“Hey, it’s okay! For most of my life you haven’t been able to heal me when I get hurt, so it’s not like I’m not used to being in pain,” he teases, and then lets go of Suki who he was leaning on, as he goes to embrace Katara.

She can feel hot, somehow still dry, tears flow down her cheeks as she relaxes into this hug. While news had spread quickly from the Earth Kingdom to the Fire Nation about Toph, Sokka, Suki, and Aang’s victory in Ba Sing Se, her stomach had been twisted with worry the entire time they had been apart. A lot of it could have been hearsay, and until she got to hug her friends and brother in person, she could not let go of her unease. Hell, the talk of Caldera City was Zuko’s honorable triumph, but nobody who knew the truth of the aftermath of this battle had let it slip to the public that Zuko was in critical condition right now. Only Iroh, Katara, and some of the servants who were helping take care of meals and other menial tasks knew. It would throw this world into even more chaos if every day citizens knew there was a chance that Zuko wouldn’t…no. I don’t want to think about that future. I simply can’t. The guilt overwhelms Katara, but she pushes these negative feelings away and struggles to focus on the present. Sokka’s voice brings her back to the present, as she can feel his quickening heartbeat against her chest, and his tears dripping onto her robe. “We were so worried about you and Zuko, Katara. I’m glad you’re okay.”

She stammers, as she realizes it’s time to break the news to a few more people, wishing Sokka hadn’t let go of her as quickly as he did. She desperately missed her brother, and they hadn’t ever been apart for this long before, in all their side journeys in the past year, and hunting trips prior to that.

“Yes, I’m ok,” she lets the words spill out of her before she has a chance to choke on them, “But, well. Zuko...Zuko got really hurt.” Immediately, she can see the blood drain from both of their faces, and she grabs their hands, trying to comfort them despite not having the ability to comfort herself. “I’m healing him, but it’s still going to take a while. We have to just wait for him to recover.” She smiles, weakly, and fears it looks more like a grimace. “I’m glad you guys are back, though. It’s just been me and Iroh watching over him since the fight.”

Suki squeezes her hand, and the sadness and sympathy mix together in the look she gives Katara. “I’m really glad you’re okay. We’re here for you guys,” her smile sweet and boring into the deepest parts of Katara as she finishes speaking. Katara is taken aback, as her skin crawls with the thought that Suki understands, already, what happened at that Agni Kai, even if she doesn’t know the full details.

Sokka furrows his brows, and she can feel his warmth and fear as he nods in agreement with Suki. “Toph and Aang are in the courtyard with the Turtleduck pond, can we go see him with them?”

Of course, a practical response from Sokka. She knows better though. He is close with Zuko in different ways than Katara, but this was crushing for him too. She tries her best to smile reassuringly, as she fights back tears that are full of frustration and fear and anger and a deep, hollow grief that she hasn’t felt since Aang was struck by Azula, what feels like years ago but was only 4 months ago. In these four months, so much has changed, including feeling ready to face Aang. That kiss, just up and leaving, wasn’t ok and Katara wasn’t going to accept any excuses about it, just apologies.

He left everyone to go off on their separate missions, never really knowing whether or not those separation missions would be worth the danger they were putting themselves in, and that blind faith she was able to put in him when they first met was starting to get really old.

“So?” Suki chimes, pulling Katara out of her own thoughts.

“Oh, sorry,” she blushes, “I spaced out for a second. Um…” she tries to come up with an excuse for her sudden zoning out. “I’m worried about leaving Zuko by himself for a long time, and it’s been about twenty minutes so, I better get back, but stop by with everyone, sure.”

Suki gives her a quick squeeze of the arm, as they both walk off a few minutes after listening to Katara’s directions. Her chest feels tight, and she turns in the opposite direction as them, going back to Zuko.

They still don’t know how he got hurt. She doesn’t want to tell them, after so many instances of Toph teasing her about Jet and Haru, and well, she doesn’t want to hear it. Especially when Toph can feel her heartbeat. That damn seismic sense, she chuckles to herself, trying to let herself joke around a little bit.

Suddenly she is back in front of the door. She tries to shake off her anxieties and pulls the door open, the cold handle no longer soothing her but sending chills down her spine. This time, she keeps her eyes open as she walks back in, and all of the feelings she had been able to push down while talking to Sokka and Suki started to bubble up to the surface again, her cheeks feeling hot and dry, too dry. She wished she could bend a cloud of mist around herself, but knew that all of her energy had to be devoted to healing Zuko.

His familiar heartbeat suddenly found itself back on her radar, and she tried to hold back her tears and desire to just collapse and give up. But it was her duty to heal him. Her duty to heal him, the Fire Lord, just like it was hers to heal the Avatar. There was no way that any Northern healer would be willing to come down to heal the Fire Lord, nor would they be able to get there in time. So even if there were people more skilled, more capable, she knew that in order to maintain balance, it was her job to keep his heart beating.

[kaiserin-astraia]

NieR's Project Gestalt

So after several nights losing sleep over this, I decided to write down my biggest issue with the NieR series: project gestalt. It’s pretty unanimously agreed by fans that project gestalt was probably the worst plan in the history of plans, executed in the laziest way possible. And yet, I couldn't help but obsess over how project gestalt could have been salvaged, even after the events of ending E of nier replicant.

This is the part where I say: I’m going to spoiling the hell out of NieR: Replicant and in some capacity NieR: Automata. If you don’t want to be spoiled, then get out now — that being said, if you’re sticking around anyway, I’ll be attempting to give summaries and explanations to concepts in the games that are relevant, so that we are all on the same page. also also I only know the high level details of the Drakengard series & won't be touching on it much.

So. What the hell was project gestalt?

Project gestalt was the terrible and last ditch effort to save humanity from a widespread pandemic called white chlorination syndrome, or WCS. WCS was caused by a literal inter dimensional fight between a red dragon and demon baby thing that resulted in the death of both and the deterioration of their corpses causing salt (also called Maso particles) to fall from the sky. If you got infected, the Cult of the Watchers gave you the choice of losing your free will and fighting for them as a soldier in the Legion, or turning into a pile of salt and dying. BrandonSP has a wonderful video talking about the Legion and the Nier universe leading up to the events of Nier: Replicant that I’ll link if you want to know more about this history (here), but all you need to know is: humanity is on the brink of extinction and the planet is no longer inhabitable in its current state.

Project Gestalt discovered that the way humans could escape extinction is by separating their souls from their bodies — the soul having no physical form is immortal & immune to maso, while the body without a soul can't become infected, because there’s no consciousness to force into a demon deal, I guess. You know, I realized while writing this that it’s not clear why separating soul from body actually worked to prevent WCS, but whatever it worked because Yoko Taro Said So.

However, separating body from soul was no easy task; upon doing so, most people’s souls would instantly go berserk, turning into mindless violent entities. The first success was the playable character of Nier: Replicant, who I’m going to call Nier. Upon this first success, the governments of the world convinced / coerced him into cooperating with the Project, and he became the cornerstone for all the “gestalts” aka the souls separated from their bodies.

Just to keep everyone up to pace, gestalts are the souls separated from their bodies, otherwise known as “shades” in Nier: Replicant.

So Project Gestalt’s planned chain of events was as followed:

1. All remaining humans would undergo gestalt-ing 2. The resulting replicants (aka, the soulless bodies) and androids would fight and defeat the legion & clean up the planet so that it was habitable again … which meant containing or eradicating the leftover maso covering the planet. 3. Once ready for rehabilitation, Grimoire Weiss and Grimoire Nior would merge into each other, causing all gestalt souls to snap into their respective replicants starting with Nier 4. Profit. Seems a simple plan, right? Well, not even a single step of that plan worked. By the end of Nier: Replicant ending E, Nier’s Gestalt, aka the shadow lord, has been killed by his own replicant; the replicants have gained sentience and I would argue their own souls, and many gestalts have relapsed into becoming violent, nonsensical entities. The insta-snap grimoires are dead, too, and-- Oh there’s the tiny issue that when a gestalt relapses, their corresponding replicant gets something called the “black scrawl”, a painful and terminal disease. Once a gestalt relapses or dies, their replicant can’t be recreated (well... mostly) and because the original gestalt, the shadow lord, is dead, all the other gestalts are doomed to eventually relapse or die as well, and thus humanity goes extinct. This is where I call bullshit. There’s little known about the time period between Nier: Replicant and Nier: Automata— especially the time of the gestalt and replicants decline. The game(s) leads you to believe that nothing can be done because the soul snapping Grimoires are dead and so is the original gestalt. However, there is tons of evidence in the game itself that implies it’s not so simple, and truly the true tragedy is that simply, everyone gave up — or more likely, Yoko Taro didn’t want us to think this hard, lol. Well TOO BAD, I can’t stop thinking about it so finally let’s actually talk about how to save humanity. First of all, I read on Reddit how it seems to be that the androids Devola and Popula are only two units, and with their demise in Nier: Replicant that project gestalt is doomed to failure. However, Nier: Automata clearly talks about how there were several Devola and Popula model pairs in different cities/continents. There’s no way that only our Devola and Popula in Nier: Replicant knew how to merge a gestalt with its replicant; such vital information would be stored in every android related to the project, and these models were quite literally created to oversee it. So. Idk why the hell the project was allowed to even get so disorganized, but regardless, after the the Shadow Lord and grimoires die, the remaining Devola and Popula units should have immediately made a plan B. There were several big issues with the state of the world before, so we’ll tackle them one by one for the biggest chance of success. 1. All relapsed gestalts need to be eradicated or contained. Their violence has lead replicants to attack them back and view them as monsters, leading to meaningless conflict. If the Devola and Popula units are programmed not to harm the gestalts because they are the 'true humans', they need to make new units ala A2 or 2B to take care of it. Because we know that android technology is already there, evidenced by the Memory Tree, and Devola and Popula, it follows this is definitely possible.

2. There should be three divisions of research made as follows:

2.1 Research into the effects of mismatched replicants merged with gestalts, like Kaine. Because the clock is ticking, there’s unfortunately no time to gawk at morals. Taking volunteers, even 1 success could be the difference between extinction or survival.

2.2 Creating and housing “iced” or “stasis” gestalts, while replicant bodies are “grown” for them. Because replicants have formed their own identities, they should try to create/raise replicants completely asleep/comatose. If not this, research into putting gestalts into their proper replicants at infant stage can be tried. (Note: replicants were infertile, hence why replicants had to be made, not born of sexual reproduction. Yoko Taro said that replicants couldn’t reproduce because they didn’t have their souls, however I think this was just a comment said to cover a plot hole.)

2.3 Research into whether replicants truly have souls or not, and whether something can be done to allow them to reproduce. Regarding the soul issue, it’s heavily implied that the Memory Tree, having absorbed the memories of so many replicants, began growing a soul of its own (that Nier killed, thinking it was a shade, oops). Now, how is that possible? It shouldn’t be, unless the replicants had made their own or unless a soul being created was possible. If we want to get fancy, a fourth division could be organized to study Emil and the weapons project that experimented on him, with an emphasis on how to either reverse the effects or if any information can be gleaned from them regarding the soul.

2.4 Black scrawl 2 electric boogaloo: it’s said in the project gestalt files that they couldn’t find a cure or reason for this phenomenon, but if we’re trying to cover our bases, another research division should be created to investigate and attempt to cure it. It seems to be a magical malady, so I wonder if Emil would be able to help... or even Kaine.

3. (Moving along...) More androids should be created to build cities / homes / areas of civilization for the newly reformed humans to re-habitat. This is said to be a goal of the androids in Nier: Automata, and they were doing a piss poor job — maybe if they got started earlier they’d have a better shot. The replicants were/are already living in medieval levels of squalor and poverty, which is ridiculous considering the android's technology is so advanced.

4. No more lies: though in my plan, replicants shouldn’t have to be created except to be possessed, but if they are created and allowed to mature into a sentient age, replicants should be educated and informed about the truth of their existence — this is for many reasons. First, that way replicants will be less likely to fear and attack shades they see; two, worst comes to worst, they may be more willing to share their bodies with their gestalts and who knows? Maybe they’d merge naturally. Three, no replicant would be allowed to get strong enough to defeat an android (or two -- seriously, what were the twins thinking letting Nier get so powerful?).

Hopefully this makes it very obvious that the death of humanity was entirely the fault of Project Gestalt itself and the androids meant to oversee it -- at least the androids have the excuse of being programmed to act a certain way, but still. It's so frustrating that we just have to accept that humanity was doomed even though, by its own lore, there was a lot that could have been done to attempt to save humans. Like, I love you, Yoko Taro, but gees.

anyway if you've read all this I'm so sorry but also I'm REALLY interested to hear what y'all think about the Nier universe and it's facets. idek why I've got such deep brainworms but here we are.

P.S. As of writing this, I've played some Nier: Reincarnation and it just further implies that the way they created and treated replicants was both A) awful, holy shit, it's so bad, and B) ill-advised on every level. I don't want to spoil but good lord. Honestly, I think at this point YT just wants to express/nail home that humanity was doomed to fail because of its own cruelty and flaws. ok ill shut up now bye love u

[george5259999]

Week 5 - Sketching

This weeks activity was definitely the hardest for me mentally. The previous weeks of content were quite technique based, in the sense that once you learn the rules, the results are straightforward to replicate and ideate upon. This week's content was much more skills based than it was techniques based, and that lead to a lot of frustration and challenges - mainly around the fact that my drawing skills weren't as developed, making it harder to replicate my ideas how I initially saw them in my head.

The warmup exercises were a great start to the tutorial, they definitely brought the skillset of hand drawing into focus; immediately making me realise how reliant I was upon the tools in the previous classes. I felt like the exercises definitely increased in skills and difficulty. The lines exercises (Image 1, 2) made me realise how important grip, posture and positioning is when drawing. I played around with the speed and control of the pen, and I noticed that holding the pen further down the barrel helped reduced my shaky motions.

Along with the other exercises, the ones I enjoyed the most were the contour lines (Image 5), and the circles and ellipses (Images 3, 4). The circles exercise was really difficult, and at times I found it very frustrating when the circle would look more like an ellipse, but I think it was the most rewarding as I forced myself to complete the page. Sometimes I find that completing something is more important than refining it. As someone who can be overly critical of my own work, completing a task where the result may not be perfect is a great way to improve. The circles in perspective exercise was also difficult for the same reasons. The contour lines exercise was definitely my favourite (Image 5), because it really taught me to visualise forms on a 2D page. I think I gained the most from this exercise because it amalgamated all of the skills from line confidence, ellipses and circles into one.

Moving on from the warmup exercises, the task for this week was to redesign an Olay Moisturiser bottle. I found myself trying to consider the brand identity and constraints, as I think they are a great way to come up with inspiration. Doing some research on the Olay line, their bottles have very simplistic and curved form without many extrusions and harsh edges. When undertaking the first task (Image 6), I wanted to focus on the overall silhouette of the bottles, rather than supplying detail for each concept. This exercise allowed me to quickly iterate on ideas, and gave me immediate reactions to what I liked and disliked as I put pen to paper. There were times I drew the first line of the bottle and knew I wasn't going to like it (for example, bottom left). Not devoting too much time, and overthinking allowed me to produce bottles which I thought had a lot of potential for the next stage.

When it came to add shading to the bottles, I started to experience some issues. Having never worked with alcohol markers before, I bought a couple of Copic markers in two shades of grey (C4, C5) to try and do some shading. I quickly learned that I should have purchased some lighter shades of grey as well, as they can be layered to increase the richness of value. I found that I wasn't moving the markers across the page fast enough, and it caused some ugly bleeding, so I smoothed over the marker with some graphite pencils which were more familiar and easier to control. Eventually, I would like to not rely on pencil for correcting my mistakes, especially if I decide to buy coloured Copics in the future. My corrective efforts are definitely a bi-product of being a beginner, but it was a great lesson to learn early on.

The second exercise started off very similar to week four's content. Drawing the boundary box template using the perspective techniques worked well. When transferring the boxes to other paper, I used thin mechanical pencil to lightly place them on the page. When drawing the three forms I liked from task 1, I found that the construction of the form was relatively ok during the straight line sections. When constructing circles and ellipses, I found that I was still too shaky and lacked control, so I drew them with the mechanical pencil, and then went over them with pen. When adding marker to these concepts, I once again found that I was not happy with the results. Unfortunately, because marker is rather permanent, my mistakes were immortalised on the page. I don't regret using the Copic markers, because I know that I will develop control with practise.

I wasn't completely happy with these three concepts (Image 7), so I wanted to create a final concept which was more visually interesting. I think I set my constraints too early, and should have allowed myself to make anything that came to mind - so I could rein them in when it cam time to develop them into final drawings. With this concept I went back to sketching without considering the proper dimensions. I made annotations on what was good, and more importantly, what I didn't like (Image 8).

When it finally came time to finishing the activity, I placed dots on the corner in thin mechanical pencil so I could remove them later. I liked this technique because it still gave me guidelines to work from, but kept the page clean and legible. I focused more on the detail and creating interesting forms on the bottle, and used these guidelines to create curved shapes and lines which tapered and chamfered the bottle, which I tried to highlight with the markers (Image 9). Overall, I wasn't entirely happy with the final product (Image 10), but I could definitely see my improvement with the markers from my first and second attempts.

Confidence is definitely something I lack when drawing, particularly with ellipses and circles; and it is something that can only be developed with practise and time. If I were to redo this activity, I would really focus on the circular forms and improving them, as well as practising with the markers more before using them in my linework. Using the YouTube Channels from the Pre-Class activities, I want to keep developing these skills and create my own style. It really is the skill I look most forward to developing for concepting as an Engineer and as a Designer.

[fc5holidayexchange]

FAR CRY 5 HOLIDAY EXCHANGE 2019 FIC

‘How the Tea Saved Christmas’

Female Rook/Joseph Seed, Joey Hudson, John Seed; when local barista Rook learns that the holidays are a not-so-great time for one of Hope County’s families (and her favorite customer), she takes it upon herself to learn a new skill to bring him a little Christmas Cheer.

@bintangy

“Here is my gift for the wonderful Tangy! I hope you like it and it brings you a little joy during this holiday season :)

If there was one thing Rook lived by in life, it was that if she was gonna do a job, she was gonna do it right. So when she’d gotten the opportunity to sling lattes part-time back in college, Rook decided she wasn’t going to give it the half-assed attempt most baristas gave it: instead, she spent her free time learning that foofy-foam art nonsense to take her skills to the next level. It had been entertaining to whip up frothy drinks decorated with all sorts of dumb phallic images for her friends, but the skill really hadn’t become important to her until she’d graduated and found herself with exactly zero job offers in her field.

With nothing else to turn to, she’d dipped back into the reliable work for the chance to earn the modest monthly rent for her apartment. And thankfully, instead of working for a soul-sucking corporate chain, Rook ended up at The Sheriff’s, an adorably simple coffee shop situated right in the downtown of Hope County suburbia. The owners, a perfectly darling family with a girl her age by the name of Mary May, had been graciously open to her idea of introducing art back into caffeine and were more than happy to let her produce her latte art for customers that specifically asked for it.

While not everyone was interested in the art form, some customers were more than happy to wait for whatever random art she decided to produce for them that day. Those that did ask for it were great tippers and had been vigorous at spreading the word about the girl creating painstakingly beautiful foam art in the idyllic little family business. Sales took off for the shop and Rook made more than she needed to get by in tips alone most days, but more importantly than that – she actually enjoyed what she was doing. It certainly hadn’t been what she expected to do with her life out of college, but the town had quickly absorbed her into their collective family, her employers especially.  

“Rook! Got another one.”

Joey Hudson’s voice sailed across the shop and into the back where Rook was taking stock of the morning’s supplies. With a grin, Rook headed through the double doors and peered over the counter. A flash of blue hair caught her attention immediately. “Nadine, hi. What can I get for you?”

True to form, Nadine Abercrombie flashed a brand-new comic book proudly as she placed her morning order. When the enthusiastic young woman first began coming to the shop to ask for art of the newest comic book characters, Rook had been woefully under-prepared and un-researched on even the most ‘basic’ of characters by her standards; since then, Nadine had taken to bringing examples in hand.

Rook did an exemplary job of copying even the most ridiculous of superhero symbols if she did say so herself and jumped at the chance to replicate today’s choice character. She grabbed a large ceramic cup and tossed a quick, “Coming right up!” over her shoulder as she set to her task.

Nadine was more than happy with the work and eagerly delved into the pages of her comic with her latte in hand. Because of the small-town atmosphere, there were lots of regulars that kept to pretty consistent schedules. Sometimes, strangers passed through during peak tourist season which provided Rook with her greatest challenges, but for the most part Rook’ work was pretty consistent.

Joey eyed her from the register. “Think that poor girl will ever get out of this town?”

“Come on, Hudson.” Rook wiped down the espresso machine and turned to toss the rag at her coworker. “At least she didn’t have a choice in starting out here. Better than making the choice to move to a small-ass town like this.”

“Hmm.” Joey paused. “Touché, Rookie.”

With a roll of her own eyes, Rook countered, “Quit calling me that.”

The chime of the front door’s bell interrupted their banter. Rook felt a quick prod to her side and met Joey’s salacious grin before she turned and saw–

Oh.

It was her newest regular. From what she’d heard from the town’s gossip, the Seed family had remained largely reclusive though not unfriendly during their stay in Hope County. At the beginning of December and therefore the holiday season, Rook had taken it upon herself to up her game with the cutest possible holiday art. It was at that time that the newcomer had first entered the shop and Rook was taken by the way his eyes seemed absolutely enchanted by the perfectly outlined snowflake she’d etched into the foam. Now, the signature Seed-blue eyes were recognizable from a mile away and Rook felt rooted to the spot when she met Joseph Seed’s gaze across the counter.

A smile tugged at his lips as he stepped up to order. “Hello, Miss.”

Though there was no malice behind it, Joey rolled her eyes and backed away from the register. For as many times as he’d been in the shop, Joseph had always asked for the latte art and had, since the beginning, maintained that he would like the pleasure of giving his praise directly to the artist. His gaze remained steady even as Rook took her place at the register.

“It’s Rook, please. I promise there’s no need to be formal.”

A mischievous glint entered Joseph’s eyes, one that told her he had no intention of breaking that tradition of theirs. Joseph had been a very quiet and agreeable patron prior to the discovery of her art. Now? He preferred making his orders directly through her and with an air of humor Rook was surprised to hear from him. The way that their banter brought a smile to his handsome face and brought out the lines around his eyes suited him. “But I thought the customer was always right, Miss.”

There wasn’t much Rook could say to that, so she instead focused on trying to tame the heat rising to her cheeks and asked, “What can I get for you today?”

As Joseph opened his mouth, another face suddenly peered from over his shoulder. The family resemblance was clear in both the eye color and the way that they lit up with mischief upon seeing her.

“Oh, Joseph, you never told me that the barista was as darling as her art.”

Joseph’s cheeks immediately flushed. “John.”

“Sorry, sorry.” What could only be the youngest Seed brother leaned his heavily-tattooed arms on the counter. “I’ll just have two shots of espresso. Need to stay awake through some horrendously boring briefings. Joseph?”

Almost shyly, Joseph asked, “Just a small cinnamon holiday latte.”

Despite the fact that John’s sudden appearance had taken her by surprise, Rook could practically feel her heart melting at the way Joseph always asked for the art as though he was bothering her. She’d make a whole fleet of art-stamped foam lattes if he asked for it. She set to the task at hand, putting up Joseph’s cup first to create her canvas before grabbing a smaller mug for John.

To her surprise, the younger of the two remained as Joseph walked the crowd in search of a table. John watched her with an air of badly-disguised disinterest that was shattered the moment he murmured, “You know he doesn’t actually drink caffeine, right?”

“Ow–” At the sudden remark, Rook jerked her head up and managed to catch her head on the cabinet above the steamer. “What do you mean, he doesn’t drink caffeine? He’s here almost every day.”

A smirk grew until it threatened to overtake John’s handsome face. “Of course he is.” And, with a conspiratorial wink, he leaned forward and whispered, “But have you ever actually seen him drink it?”

“No…” Rook was usually (and understandably) too busy to study Joseph while he sat in the shop. The most she got to experience was the way his features lit up at the recognition of whatever she’d made for him, but that in and of itself was more than enough for her. She absent-mindedly put the finishing touches on the edges of the ornament she’d etched into the foam and slid it across the counter.

“Hmm.” Without another word, John collected both his and his brother’s drinks and headed to their tables.

Now, Rook’s interest was piqued. All this time, she’d assumed that the holiday art had been keeping Joseph here; after all, he hadn’t started showing up in the line until she began the recent brand of holiday-themed latte art. She kept moving orders out and conversed conversationally with her regulars as they cycled through the line, but she kept a discreet eye on the pair of them sitting in the corner. To her absolute dismay, as time stretched on and the two of them moved from their spot, Joseph failed to lift his mug to take a drink even once.

She was immediately crestfallen. A small part of her had been excited about the idea of Joseph enjoying his drinks for her, and the thought made her feel stupid. As Rook kicked herself mentally behind the counter, John suddenly parted from Joseph with a touch to the older man’s shoulder and headed back to the counter.

Under the guise of handing her his used mug, John murmured, “The caffeine – it’d keep him up at night and he doesn’t sleep much as it is. Especially with the holiday season rolling around. It’s… a difficult time to say the least. For all of us.”

Oh.

So he’d noticed her sulking then, but rather than make fun of her, the lawyer with the sharp observational skills was trying to make her feel better. With a smile that almost didn’t match his abrasive nature, John added, “He likes herbal tea. Though I’m sure he’d miss out on your art and I can’t imagine you’d do as well with tea leaves.”

And with that, the two blue-eyed men were gone, leaving Rook stunned at the turn of events.

The coffee-fueled mogul of a family that ran the coffee shop was perplexed when she brought up the suggestion, to say the least, but they were thankfully willing to give it a shot. As shipping orders arrived with the usual holiday fanfare and the shop’s shelves began to be overtaken by the standard shades of red and green, Rook kept an eye out for a specific order and when it arrived, it did so with the air of Christmas arriving early.  

She tried to tell herself that the excitement was because of the opportunity to learn and to expand business, not because of him alone. The mantra repeated itself in her head even as she lined up the first tins and placed the kettle on the range in the back kitchen while imagining Joseph’s face at his first cup. If the holidays were a tough time for him, the least she could do was teach herself how to make a decent cup of tea while incorporating a little art on the top still.

“What in the holy hell are those little shits?” Of course, Joey poked her head in at the exact moment Rook began reading through the first article.

With a sigh, Rook set her reading materials aside. “Tea.”

Joey fiddled with one of the tins, though thankfully, she didn’t move it far from the organized stack. “These tins are cute, but why are they here?”

“We’re adding tea to the menu.”

The squinty look Joey gave her wasn’t helping to fuel her resolve that this wasn’t just for Joseph. “You wouldn’t happen to be turning this place into the new hipster tea shop of the town because of a certain hipster-looking man?”

Rook sputtered indignantly but her denial fell flat. “The man-bun isn’t that out of control.”

The smirk on her coworker’s face faded as Joey dug through the next box and then peered out at the loading bay to the awaiting others. “You’re… you’re serious about this.”

With a sigh, Rook abandoned her current task and leaned against one of the stacks. Though the folks of Hope County were lovely people, she couldn’t help but feel that a real, genuine connection with another person was something she’d been lacking since she’d moved to the county all those weeks ago. That was, until the first night Joseph had come across the coffee shop looking every bit as exhausted and sleep deprived as John had said. The slightly offended look he’d tossed at their holiday display made more sense now. It was probably a fool’s errand, but she clutched to the moments she was sure she felt between her and her favorite patron. “Yes, I am. After all, we’d be stupid to sleep on expanding to a market that may very well do well in this town. For business, you know.”

“Mmn hmm.” With a humph, her coworker picked up a particularly large teapot and scrutinized it before settling it next to the other. “And when do we begin unveiling this newest product for the desired target ‘customers’?”

Rook scoffed, though she turned to her friend with the semblance of hope. “We?”

“Yes, we. Can’t let you venture out on the owner’s capital on your own.” Joey tossed her a grin that barely passed Rook’s own glee as the elder woman started on the work. “Besides, we’ve only got – what, a few more days until Christmas? If you’re gonna master how in the hell to make foam art on top of tea, you’re gonna need all the help you can get. And believe it or not, I’m a sucker for a good holiday romance story.”

With a grateful snort, Rook passed the nearest tin over. “Operation Herbal Holiday is a go.”

Keeping the tea secret under wraps became more and more difficult as the days passed, especially with the introduction of even more decorations and holiday-themed events at the shop. Unsurprisingly, Joseph was noticeably absent the day that Mary May’s parents hired actual Christmas Carolers to serenade the night-owls for their usual midnight cups of joe. Rook could only imagine what John had meant when he said that the holidays were an especially difficult time for the family; after all, she hadn’t had the opportunity to speak to either of them since that fateful encounter.

She was surprised when she straightened her obnoxiously-patterned holiday sweater at the chime of the door only to meet Joseph Seed’s apprehensive expression across the counter. It couldn’t have been past 7pm, but the poor guy looked exhausted. The pale-brown sweater that clung to his frame was noticeably absent of the cartoonish holiday imagery that all other patrons appeared to be wearing.

“Hi.” Rook surprised them both further by being the first to speak up. “I, uh, I’m sure you’re probably here for latte art, but can I make a different suggestion?”

As formal and quiet as ever, Joseph smirked, apparently more than happy to let her take the reins. “Of course, miss. I’m sure you probably know the coffee better than most.”

Rook set about grabbing the necessary supplies as Joseph slid to the other end of the counter, out of the way of prying customer eyes. With a nervous glance over the steamer, she prodded, “So… not getting much sleep this holiday season, I take it?”

If he was startled at all by the question, Joseph didn’t show it. “It is that obvious, huh? Well. As I’m sure you’ve heard by all the rumors by now, the holiday season is not one my brothers and sister and I usually partake in.”

“Rumors?” Rook was genuine in her confusion. Of all the stories she’d heard of the Seeds so far, none of them had detailed any specifically bah-humbug behavior from the quartet.

Another sound of surprise escaped Joseph. “The four of us all shared an equally difficult upbringing, and for various reasons, we’ve never really delved into the holiday spirit this time of year. Old habits, and all.”

“Ah.” With a swoop of nervousness settling in her stomach, Rook carefully slid the cup across the counter to him. “Well, I hope this helps. On the house. Happy Holidays, Joseph.”

Joseph glanced down, and the soft smile that had settled over his lips vanished immediately. He studied the little ornate Christmas Tree, complete with a small poked-out star designed on top, and appeared only more bewildered when he inhaled and noted the absence of the scent of espresso.

“It’s tea,” Rook offered as she twisted a towel in her hands. Joseph cocked one brow up as she continued, “I uh, may have heard one teeny little thing – that you prefer tea over coffee.”

“How-” With a pained groan that only came from the experience of an older sibling, Joseph rubbed a hand across his face. “John. I should have known.”

“It’s okay!” Rook exclaimed quickly. “I didn’t even notice all this time that you weren’t even drinking them…”

Long fingers settled around the warm mug as Joseph pulled it closer to him. “I’d hoped you wouldn’t. I would not want you to think I disliked the art.”

It was her turn to scoff. “You paid and tipped far too much not to be able to really enjoy it.”

Joseph blinked in bewilderment. “Not drinking it didn’t mean I wasn’t enjoying them. You make beautiful art and you are willing to share it with the rest of the world. That, in and of itself, is a gift that we are all very blessed to enjoy.”

“Yeah, well.” Rook tried to shrug off the heat that rose to her cheeks at his praise. “Now you get to do both. You know, enjoy the drink and enjoy the view.”

He sipped quietly at the tea before that playful smirk emerged, and Rook was again caught off-guard. “I may do just that. If, perhaps, the real view here is available for dinner sometime later this week? Assuming you do not have plans for the holidays.”

Rook barely contained the squeak that threatened to escape from thFCe finesse of the compliment. “Uh, no holiday plans for me.” With a grin of her own, she added, “That would mean we’d be making holiday plans together. Assuming you’re okay with getting into the holiday spirit suddenly.”

“Hmm.” Joseph savored another sip from the steaming mug before he settled the ceramic on the counter. “That would mean so, yes. I, like an unfortunate number of souls today, had forgotten that the holiday season is all about giving until you reminded me with how thoughtful and genuine your willingness to give was. Thank you, Rook.”

With a smile that only made her heart swell further, Rook risked a reach across the counter to brush his warm hands with hers.

[shanaliw]

WEEK 12

(COMMUNICATION DESIGN STUDIES RELATED):

Work in Progress (WIP) - Antoni Gaudi Zine

One of my questions relate to how Gaudi’s work is unique and different and for that, I wanted to visually answer that through his ‘Park Guell’ design. This park includes a multi coloured lizard mosaic which can be found at the main entrance. I found the vibrant colours and intricate tile work very eye catching and one of a kind - thinking what other park do you know that has mosaics? let alone a giant 3D mosaic of a lizard. 

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Therefore, I knew I wanted to incorporate something similar in honor of him. I initially thought having it sprawled across the page would be very eye catching and interesting, similarly to how it looks in real life. So here are my first few designs:

In terms of the colours for the lizard, I didn’t want to completely replicate the lizard from Gaudi’s one for different reasons. Bailey mentioned to not completely mimic the aesthetic or style and to put your own twist on it so I changed it up however it still shares the similar eye catching quality and feel. Another point is, that colour is a very important aspect to Antoni and can be seen across all his works. Although it was the Casa Batllo that also inspired my colour choice. The Casa Batllo I’d have to say is one of my personal favourites as the variety of colours makes me feel this certain way. As corny as it may sound, I find this design so magical and dreamlike, when I look at it I feel as if I’m in some sort of fairytale. Therefore I have aimed to combine his other unique works such as the Casa Batllo within his Park Guell design through the lizard as a visual way of answering the question.

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The background is a photo of one of the walkways within the Park Guell - I did this in hope to give all the information and lizard more context. However in doing this, the text got lost among the background so I then played around with white and black tints and making the text colour contrast. Overall I was happy with the layout until I did some more reflecting as I felt something was off about it. Thinking from a general perspective, I realized that if I was to read all the information, that I’d like to see more images of Gaudi’s work or some sort of other visual aid to support and complement what is written. So I looked into further refinement ideas to address this, here is what I came up with:

After this, I still wasn’t completely satisfied, I felt the pictures were a good addition however in another way it also looked as if it was almost just squashed in at the last second and that it didn’t really flow or connect in with the rest of the design layout.

I went away for a bit, days later I decided to take another approach towards this idea and design, as what I had currently just wasn’t working for me, something was missing. I knew I wanted to keep the lizard design in terms of the visuals and I knew I wanted to find a way of using the lizard among pictures of some of Gaudi’s other work. 

New idea/concept: I thought to place the lizard on a log outline and to then have his tail wrap around as a way to divide all the pictures within the log.

Here is how I went about creating this idea:

As you can see I went through a lot of random steps and techniques to try and make it all work😅. But here is the final outcome for this question:

During this whole process I was able to learn a lot and gain more experience with adobe which I’m very grateful for. This whole experience of making my zine had me going from photoshop to illustrator to indesign one after the other as they all help with a variety of things. I was able to learn more on how to arrange text such as making it diagonal like what’s shown above - this can come in use any time for any design brief or creative task. 

[thefloatingstone]

Would you please make me a list of your rcommended comics(books or web-series any genre original content or fanworks)

Oh that’s a god one! Thank you so very much 💙 Let me see what I have on my shelf and on my hard drive. (I don’t know if I’ve ever made a list of my favourite comics before or not here on tumblr?)

in no particular order;

1: Usagi Yojimbo by Stan Sakai

I dunno if it ever really shows or not, but Japanese historical settings are something I’m really into! I think it’s one of those dormant interests that flares up every now and then. Anyway. Usagi Yojimbo has basically been tied for my favourite comic for over 10 years now. It’s a series of stories, both short and with longer arcs, following the character of Miyamoto Usagi (roughly based on Miyamoto Musashi) travelling around the country of Japan in the early 1600s as a Ronin after the lord he served was defeated and killed in battle. Usagi, being one of his samurai, is not killed in the same battle which, considering his lord was killed, is a massive disgrace in historical Japanese culture. Basically along the thought of “If your lord died and you didn’t you must not have fought hard enough to protect him.”

Anyway, the comic is both a history lesson on Edo period Japan, a travel diary, a slice of life comic, a Chanbara, an action comic, some times even a horror or ghost story, a tragedy involving unfulfilled love and lost families, a lesson on traditional Japanese Yokai and other mythology, and now and then high fantasy.

10/10. HIGHLY recommend. The author Stan Sakai is also a wonderful person I’ve had the pleasure to meet a few times at Comic Con. And considering he like... remembers who I AM despite being an extremely famous comic artist... I dunno. I have endless respect for the man and he’s shown me great kindness in the past.

Also you know... black and white comics. They’re my jam, yo!

2: Bone by Jeff Smith

I have no idea if I even have to say anything because Bone might just, without hyperbole, be the greatest comic ever drawn.

At 1300+ pages drawn over the course of 10 years, the story starts out as a cartoon, full of hijinks and fun adventures and jokes and very slowly, reality starts setting in, things get more dangerous, the stakes get higher, the bad guys much darker. And by the time you reach book 3 of the 9 book story, you’re suddenly in a story of the “epic” variety. Not in the internet slang term but in the actual definition of the word.

You have massive wars between men and monsters, you have clashing cultures and ideologies, conflicting motivations and goals, and of course saving the world.

And it manages to do so without you EVER feeling “Excuse me but this was a cartoon book about funny jokes. This shift in tone is really weird and doesn’t work with the cartoony characters.”

It just blends and grows beautifully. And has remained as my favourite comic for... *counts* lord... 14 years now.

The book was recently released in a new colour version in case you prefer hat, but I honestly recommend “The Brick” single volume black and white version. It’s cheaper, first of all, but also I cannot express how masterful the blacks and whites of Bone are. They’re essentially Watterson level.

(also Jeff Smith is ANOTHER comic artist who is just like... the nicest person. Like REALLY nice. He’s been kind to me on occasions in that “you really didn’t have to be that nice” kind of way)

3: The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck by Don Rosa

It’s published by Disney officially... but the Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck is essentially a fancomic. The only reason its not is because Don Rosa became SO GOOD at making duck comics Disney hired him to make them officially and he was SO GOOD at it became one of the most important Duck artists just after Carl Barks (the creator of Scrooge) himself.

The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck is a comprehensive biography of Scrooge McDuck’s life, not just made up by Don Rosa, but pieced together from Carl Barks’ own comics where he would have Scrooge make passing mention to events in his past or people he met. Don Rosa essentially took all these passing remarks and mentions and drew out a timeline, starting with Scrooge age 13 leading all the way up to his reunion with his family when Donald as an adult met up with him again.

It starts with Scrooge, from a poor family in Glasgow in 1877, boarding a ship for America to seek his fortune. We follow him through the years as with each chapter, he comes close to being rich and successful, only for it to fail or fall apart at the last minute, until, eventually, we see him catch his break and become the obscenely rich and successful person he’s fought and worked and bled so hard to be.

...and then the comic continues. And we see him lose himself. Greed, the constant need for MORE money and MORE success keeps going. The need to show HOW rich and successful he is takes over, until we see him and his family fall apart. And the comic echoes Citizen Kane as Scrooge realises the best time of his life was when he was seeking riches, not after he finally succeeded.

And then Donald and his nephews appear, and Scrooge’s life gets a second wind. His lust for adventure flares up again, his need to seek fortunes and treasures burns as strong as ever. And he keeps going.

The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck is a story about looking for your place in the world and fighting to create it with your own two hands, but it’s also about how you should think hard where you place your value in life, and it’s never too late to re-direct course and try again.

There is also “The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck Companion” which is a collection of stories that didn’t fit in with the original comic and would have disrupted flow. Basically like how a fanfic will have oneshots related to a larger story

Also, the producer of the band “Nightwish” created a soundtrack to accompany the original comic as a sort of “What If” in what he imagined the story would sound like if it was made into a movie

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4: Cucumber Quest by Gigi D.G. ( @ggdgart )

A newer comic I stumbled upon which has skyrocketed into being a fave and I can already tell, that’s not a position it’s gonna relinquish. Cucumber Quest is a more cartoony and comedic story than the previous comics on this list. But that by no means makes it of any less value or dulls the moments that this comic decides to punch you in the gut with emotions HARD.

The art and colours are glorious and something I hope to study so I can better my own art hopefully, and the writing and humour is of a calibre that I just know I could not replicate it if I even tried. Full of puns, absurdism, awkward jokes and a whole lot of FEELINGS, It manages to make me both laugh myself into a coughing fit as often as it makes me yell “OH NOOOO!!!” when something dramatic happens.

The story follows our main character Cucumber, a put-upon out-of-his-depth wizard-to-be who is tasked with saving the world from the evil Nightmare Knight who has been summoned from his thousand year slumber by an evil sorcerer who wants to take over the world (as you do). With him is his little sister, the sword wielding Almond, who is WAY more into this “being a hero” thing than he is (and probably better at it too) as the duo make friends and travel to the various kingdoms to defeat the Nightmare Knight’s lackeys, working their way up to fighting the Nightmare Knight himself and sealing him away once more!

That all sounds.... really straightforward, doesn’t it? Well... that’s what everybody else in the comic thinks too. ...Shame that real life is never easy and straightforward.

From evil henchmen that start crushing on cool “Good Guys” with cool swords, good guys who don’t REALLY want to hurt the bad guys because they don’t seem so bad? To cool good guys with cool swords suddenly learning that being in danger is not as much fun as it sounded when they started this. To big evil final boss bad guys who are just tired of all of this...

What’s also awesome is the entire comic... all OVER 800 PAGES OF IT... is completely free to read online! But you can also buy physical copies of the first 4 volumes in book form to support the author! 

http://cucumber.gigidigi.com/cq/page-1/

I HIGHLY recommend this one too! It has canon LGBT characters! It has found family plots! It has scary bad guys that just need a hug! It has magical girl transformations! Literally anything you could want is in this comic. Including emotional wrecking angst! Did I mention FEELINGS???

(I couldn’t pick a single page so here are 3 random ones without context. Seriously almost EVERY page is so good I struggled very hard to choose)

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5: The Property of Hate by @modmad

Hey. Do you like fantasy worlds made of imagination? How about protagonists with grey morality who act like super primand proper gentlemen when they’re actually huge nerds? How about reluctant “Well I guess I’ve ADOPTED you now you annoying gremlin” adult-kid relationships? How about puns? How about abstract and colourfull character designs? Or saving the world?

The Property of Hate is Modmad’s original comic that they’ve been working on a few years now. it follows our lead character, RGB or “Problematic Mary Poppins” as I like to think of him, as he asks a young child if she’d like to be a hero and help him save his world? When she agrees, he takes her to a fantasy land... completely NOT preparing her for what she’s signed up for. The story then follows the duo through the abstract and shifting world as RGB slowly divulges information on what exactly our Hero has to do to save the world. It turns out it’s a lot more complicated and messy than merely “beat the bad guy” or anything like that.

Not to mention it seems this fantasy world has its own rules of reality and dangers. Emotions and abstract thoughts have real physical form here, and something like an “idea” can quite literally run around and create havoc, while something like dreams can fuel or destroy, and emotions like grief can cause irreparable damage.

Our Hero also learns RGB himself is a lot more complex and messy than he first appears. Seeming to be a good person trying to do good things (despite being a little stand offish and rude at times) but seems to also be carrying a past and the weight of having done some very very bad things “for the greater good”. And our Hero, as well as we, the readers, start wondering how much we should trust him, even though, just like our Hero, deep deep down we just know we WANT to trust him. And maybe he needs saving just as much as the world itself does. Even when he’s at his scariest and... not quite himself.

The Property of Hate is also available online completely for free. Modmad does have books for sale but I believe it’s on-demand or something along those lines. Please feel free to message them here on tumblr and they are happy to chat to their readers and interact.

http://thepropertyofhate.com/TPoH/The%20Hook/1

I think I’ll leave it there despite meaning to do 10 at first because this is already EXTREMELY long.

Hopefully you found something that seems interesting! Let me know if you decide to check any of these out and whether you ended up liking them or not! I’d love to hear your opinions.

And thank you for indulging me <3

(I’m trying to remember to add my ko-fi link to all longer posts like this I make. Especially since I keep forgetting ☕️Buy me a Ko-fi ☕️ )

[chilly-territory]

K Case Files of Blue 2, chapter 3 (part 2 out of 3)

Continuing with chapter 3.

Case Files of Blue 2 by Miyazawa Tatsuki

Chapter 3 (part 2/3) (volume 2, pages 139-168)

†

"Upon a closer look at the two questions, it becomes clear that the method used is actually quite simple."

At the time when Fushimi and Doumyouji started their game of tag on premises of the Scepter 4 headquarters, Munakata was providing systematic answers to the two questions that Benzai had posed.

"Let us start with your former question first. You asked about the means that were utilized to find strain criminals. Benzai-kun, please recall how exactly Kounomura-shi had taken the comicalarious photos featuring us at the beginning," Munakata prompted while making up a peculiar new combo word.

Benzai took a few seconds to think.

"Some were peeping photos taken from a long distance. Others were illegally obtained through hacking of surveillance cameras." And then it dawned on him. "Huh? Could it be..." "That is right." Munakata nodded. "Kounomura-shi hacked every camera he could find, from security cameras legally installed within the city to private cameras for personal use. And that is all there is to it. His next step was to compilate a program that would search for a specific element in all the countless footage he had obtained." "A program?" "Yes, a program, and the scope it works with was probably the whole of the capital’s metropolitan area."

Benzai was lost for words.

So to put it another way...

The implications were such that of late, Kounomura had been watching not only the daily lives of the Scepter 4 members but of all the ordinary citizens as well.

"I believe I mentioned this before," Munakata continued dispassionately, "but Kounomura-shi is sending us a message. In this case, it is his manner of showing us that this way information crucial to the investigation of a crime can be obtained in advance. Thus, not putting this method to good use makes us negligent as an organization..." "But," Benzai spoke over Munakata's next sentence before listening to it, "that's basically blatant disregard of human rights." "Isn't that lovely? He is right. He did hit a nerve with that message."

When he processed Munakata's last utterance, Benzai gawked. Fuse, too, was staring at Munakata in bewilderment. And only the criminal accompanying them, Tamada, lifted his head in pleased surprise and took his first good look at Munakata. Munakata coughed to clear his throat.

"...I suppose that statement was a little inappropriate for the king tasked with protection of order. Needless to say, it is necessary to uphold citizen's rights to the best of our ability. However, it does not change the fact that Kounomura-shi has located multiple strain criminals that we had failed to find, and in such short time, too. I think this deserves consideration."

Both Benzai and Fuse couldn't quite decide how to reply to that. Tamada, on the other hand, was staring at Munakata intently.

"To continue, let us move on to the other question Benzai-kun posed, about the means our opponent used to bring the strain criminals he had found under his control and make them scatter across the country." Munakata showed a quick smile. "For that, he conducted a psychological analysis, anticipated their responses and coaxed them accordingly. As simple as that."

Everyone fell silent. Benzai and Fuse said nothing, showing some reserve towards their superior, but Tamada the criminal retorted sharply on their behalf for some reason.

"No, you can't just wrap it up with a friggin 'as simple as that'!"

Benzai and Fuse thanked Tamada with their eyes for his unreserved statement.

Munakata smiled.

"For the record, you can't convince me a punk like you has exceptional brains or a super complex personality or shit like that. But still. But still, man, it's just friggin impossible to read what a person is thinking like an open book, or push their buttons that easily!" "Except," Munakata's smile never wavered, "I did precisely that to determine that you were hiding in a deserted house on the hill behind your parents' home and capture you. All I did for that was to copy Kounomura-shi's method."

Neither Munakata's expression nor his tone fluctuated any. He was still smiling as he informed the other party in a level voice. And that was likely why he inspired shudder-inducing awe the way he was being at that moment.

Tamada was left speechless. "Uh..."

Benzai and Fuse looked at Tamada silently but ardently, urging him to muster his strength. Perhaps, finding courage in those gazes, Tamada attempted to rebuke Munakata.

"Still, it could be just a coincidence." "No, it is not. It is a highly accurate scientific method called the Probabilistic Future Decision-making Theory, also known as the Coin Toss theory." "Wait." To Fuse, that sounded familiar. "Isn't that..." "Correct. It is the theory at the heart of the internet service combining personal-use SNS, online shopping, video hosting and information retrieval run by James D Sevr-shi whom Kounomura-shi took advantage of to return to Japan. Now, do any of you have experience using the Coin Toss service?"

Benzai and Fuse only shook their heads in reply, but Tamada alone raised his hand.

"That's one heck of a convenient service, lemme tell you. Yeah, seriously, it's awesome."

Munakata nodded. "The main selling point of Coin Toss is it gets progressively more personalized with each use and tailored to one's ways of thinking and tastes, constantly updating with information and features the user most desires. Sevr-shi originally studied biotechnology, focusing on random changes in self-replicating life at the time, and he apparently sought a way to apply his research to forecasting the future. When I met him, he said a certain thing to me: 'from a high enough place, all coincidences become inevitability,' to quote loosely." "...But, no, wait." Tamada immediately chimed in with friendliness more appropriate when talking to a colleague. It appeared he became genuinely interested in this discussion with Munakata. "It's just an internet service, right? Saying it can do shit like reading your mind and predicting what you'll do is clearly an overreach, no matter how you slice it?" "Good observation." Munakata raised a finger in compliment to Tamada, like one would praise a child. "Indeed. Being an internet service with unspecified large number of users, its servers are not nearly powerful enough for that task. However, an exhaustive analysis is simply the matter of enough processing power. If one had a computer with necessary and sufficient performance, through application of the Coin Toss theory making exhaustively accurate predictions of the actions a person would take becomes possible." "That necessary and sufficient performance - how much are we talking?" "About what a supercomputer can muster."

Tamada gaped at that.

Taking up where he left off, Fuse asked the main question.

"Excuse me, sir, but how could Kounomura get his hands on a supercomputer?" "I heard Coin Toss Corporation has its own supercomputer for research purposes on Hawaii. I imagine he borrowed it."

Fuse fell into stupefied silence. Munakata's way of saying that was so mundane like he was talking about borrowing miso or soy sauce from a neighbor.

"Huh? Please wait a second, Captain." This time, it was Benzai. "Just earlier, you said you ran the same analysis to determine Tamada's actions, didn't you? Does that mean you went to...?"

But Munakata shook his head. "No, not quite. I used a domestic device." "Domestic?" "Yes. I borrowed the computer that His Excellency Gold King, Kokujouji Daikoku-shi, uses to analyze the Slate. His Excellency owed me a small favor for what happened this time."

The things Munakata was saying so calmly and nonchalantly made even Benzai fall silent then.

"Hey," Tamada commented in whisper to Benzai, "your place's boss is friggin ridiculous."

All Benzai could was to stretch his lips in a strained smile at that.

Munakata, on the other hand, was cheerful to the limit.

"Luckily, Tamada-shi's data from the time the previous Blue King arrested him still remained in Zenjou-san's archive room. I ran my analysis based on that. Only," Munakata's expression clouded somewhat, "unfortunately, with the exception of Tamada-shi, information on the other criminals is mostly non-existent."

It was at that time that something suddenly occurred to Benzai.

"Um, Captain." "Yes, what is it?" "While I was working on those cases, I compiled somewhat detailed profiles on the perpetrators of each case in the hopes of finding a common link. Would those be of use to you, maybe?"

Now it was finally Munakata's turn to be surprised.

"Benzai-kun, you are wonderful. Good job!"

Benzai felt relief wash over him. He did manage to be useful to Munakata, if only a little.

†

The longer Doumyouji ran around the night HQ, escaping from Fushimi, the more he was having. The chase allowed the 19 year old airhead to display his real ability, and Doumyouji ran with a big smile on his face. To him, it felt like a game of tag.

After all, the work he had to do lately built up a lot of stress in him.

"You ass! Doumyouji! Get back here! Stop, damn you!" the profanities shouted from behind him only added more thrill to the game, spicing it up quite splendidly.

While the scene may have looked like a teacher chasing an enthusiastic kindergartner who escaped from the kindergarten, it should be mentioned that both participants were the same age.

Doumyouji ran through a hallway with flexible agility and jumped down the stairway; once, he barged into Enomoto and Fuse's room, stepped over Enomoto who was groaning uneasily in his sleep and was gone, happily running away from Fushimi. As he ran around, he ended up tumbling into a certain room located at the end of a dead-end hallway. Alert and cautious, he produced a flashlight to illuminate the room's interior.

And almost immediately he couldn't help a disappointed, "Oh, it's that room..."

Once before, when he was searching the headquarters high and low for anything that could be Munakata's bedroom, he discovered this small room. It was furnished exceedingly modestly, having only a desk and a bed, and Doumyouji decided it was a spare room for visitors.

"You piece of shiiit," came from behind him.

Fushimi, breathing a little rough, had caught up with him. In his left hand he held a lantern, while cracking loudly the knuckles of his right, clearly intending to punch Doumyouji.

"Doumyoujiiiii," he articulated. "Hope you're ready for what's to--- Mm? The hell? Ain't this Captain's private room?" "Eh?" At Fushimi's words, Doumyouji, who dropped his center of gravity low and was ready to gleefully flee again, straightened in surprise. "...Fushimi-san. What did you just say?" "Huh?" Fushimi's expression looked vicious. "I said, this is Captain's friggin room." "Huh? Wait? Uhnm... but I thought Captain doesn't have a room...?" "Are you an idiot? Of course he does. Captain is a human, too," Fushimi spat out. "Obviously he does things like resting and sleeping like the rest of us." "But..." "He just works all the time like a moron. Since he's got abnormally huge raw stamina reserves and mental fortitude, those around him mostly only always catch him awake. That's why a stupid spooky tale of him not having a room even came into existence." Fushimi's lips twisted. "But even he is only human. No different from the rest of us." The wording was complicated, not only - or necessarily - conveying goodwill. "Then again," Fushimi added with the undertone of irony, "if I hadn't accidentally glimpsed him exiting this room, I would never have guessed this is his room. Not that I had any interest to begin with." "..."

Doumyouji was staring intently at the room around them lit by the lamp. Munakata's civilian clothes and accessories were probably stored in the closet, but it was almost strange how this room was utterly devoid of anything resembling personal effects anywhere in sight. That was something that struck a cord in Doumyouji somehow.

He was the type who sucked at putting things into words. As such, now, as well, he couldn't find a good way to express the emotion that was surging in him. But if he had to try and find a word for it despite that... He'd say this blank empty room was overflowing with Munakata's "resolve". That's how it looked to Doumyouji's eyes.

"Fushimi-san," Doumyouji suddenly spoke up. His face turned very serious. "I'll do it." "Huh?" "Paperwork. I'll do my damnest to deal with it. Yep. It just occurred to me that I must give it my best effort." "..." Fushimi gave Doumyouji a brief glance of puzzlement and suspicion. Then he snorted. "I have no idea what brought that on, but nice resolve there. And out of respect for that resolve of yours, I'll make sure to squeeze every last bit of effort outta you." The last part was said in a threatening tone.

Doumyouji turned pale in the face.

"Ah, erm, on second thought, could you, uh, maybe go easy on me, after all, please?" "Shut up. Let's go!"

With that, Doumyouji was escorted out of the room by the watchful Fushimi, leaving it behind.

And then, the light in the data processing room was on all night.

†

After barely waking up, Enomoto buried his face in the pillow once again. His blood pressure was always low to begin with, so he was never a morning person, but lately, due to barely getting any sleep at all, even after waking up, his head was full of white haze and he didn't feel rested at all.

Still, he forced himself up through sheer willpower and headed towards the common use bathroom, washing his face, brushing his teeth and making effort to smooth out the bristling hair on his temples with water. But no matter how he tried, this particular case of bed hair was just too much for Enomoto to handle, so he finally gave up on styling his hair at all.

Feeling down, he made his way to the data processing room. For breakfast, he bought a jello drink. Draining the nutritious drink, he desperately tried to force his head to work on the sugar content from canned coffee, keenly aware that he needed to search for a way to restore the Scepter 4 computer system that was still down.

The sigh he heaved was heavy and bitter.

'Agh, every fiber of my being wants to watch some anime. And play some games, tons of games.'

He was sick and tired of the staring contest with the monitor that only displayed rows of wrong numbers and of having to face a keyboard the keys of which became worn off by now.

'Lord, please grand me salvation! Bestow your grace upon me so that this deadlock we're in could be broken!'

Praying in the earnest, Enomoto opened the door to the data processing room and froze, for inside there sat the man who just might become his savior.

First thing to be mentioned was that in the back of the room, right on the desk, there slept Doumyouji, restlessly moaning in his sleep. On the same desk, there sat stacks of processed paperwork. And next to the aforementioned Doumyouji, eyes on his tablet, was Enomoto's savior, Fushimi Saruhiko, drinking canned coffee.

"Hm? It's you, Enomoto." Noticing Enomoto's presence, Fushimi lifted his head. His hand immediately resumed operating the tablet though. "Tell me frankly: are you an idiot? There's so many clues scattered all around in plain sight, see? I found them right away without even trying. Listen, we're gonna restart the Scepter 4 system now, so go get to your computer alre---" he started saying but faltered mid-sentence, startled and raising his head.

All because Enomoto walked up to him with brisk and determined steps and suddenly grabbed Fushimi's hand with both of his.

"Fushimi-san. Can I please hug you for the dear life?" he asked misty-eyed.

Fushimi recoiled in shock. "F-Fuck off, moron!" He shook off Enomoto's hands vehemently.

Enomoto couldn't hold it together anymore and started openly weeping.

"Fushimi-san, Fushimi-san," he kept repeating, "I'm really so, so happy you're back! People here have no foggiest about these things! I was all alone, and it was so terrible!"

Indeed, with the exception of Fushimi Saruhiko, among the rest, not even Munakata Reishi could quite be called expert in information processing and machinery-related matters. There was no doubt that the burden Enomoto, forced to deal with the system-wide trouble all by himself, carried was immense.

"..." For a while Fushimi just started at Enomoto in silence with an unreadable face. "Tch!" he clicked his tongue at last. "Anyway, I'll help you, so let's get to it already," Fushimi curly commanded, looking away.

To Enomoto though, those words were the best words of 'salvation' he'd ever heard.

"Yes, sir!" Enomoto responded, wiping his tears and beaming with smiles.

†

"Captain. I have one more question."

It was dawn when Benzai spoke up, addressing Munakata who was seated in the seat opposite of his.

Presently, Munakata, Benzai, Fuse and strain thief Tamada were in the middle of traveling the northernmost area of Honshu via a local line.

Originally, after landing at the Hokkaido airport, they planned to take a direct flight to return straight to the capital, but due to squall winds, all flights were cancelled, leaving the four with no choice other than to spend the night in a hotel in the city and then to head to their destination via an overland route that was considerably more time-costly.

The four stocked up on crab lunches, tea, tangerines and dried scallops and boarded a normal car like they were on a most ordinary trip, taking 4 seats opposite of one another.

Those who happened to be near them kept whispering about the group. 'What's that?' 'Cosplay?'

It was only understandable seeing as Tamada was the only one among them not wearing the Scepter 4 uniform. To draw an analogy, it was not much different from policemen deciding to board a normal civilian train in full uniform. In other words, they were sticking out like a sore thumb, and nothing could be done about it.

Fuse and Benzai did feel a little uncomfortable under all the gazes, but Munakata was dignified and confident as ever.

"Yes, what is it, Benzai-kun?" Hand stopped mid-motion, Munakata looked up from the tangerine he was peeling. Like that, with a handkerchief in his lap, he somehow had a homey feel about him.

"...Sir." Benzai was looking only at the tangerine. "After our last conversation, I've been thinking." "Ah, would you like some?" Having followed his subordinate's line of sight and probably misunderstanding, Munakata offered a segment of his peeled tangerine. Benzai shook his head with all due respect. "N-No, sir, I'm good, thank you, sir." "Really. It is quite delicious though?" Munakata said after chewing on the segment he deftly tossed into his mouth.

Benzai made effort to put on a small insincere smile, but his face became serious again almost immediately.

"Captain, you said that the actions of the strains like Tamada, scattered all across the country, have been processed and analyzed by a supercomputer."

Hearing his name, Tamada, who was enthusiastically wolfing down a crab lunch, stopped, looking from Benzai to Munakata in turns.

Munakata silently nodded. "Indeed, I said that." "And I'm satisfied with the explanation you provided concerning the analysis method. But, Captain, from what you said, it appears to me that the means for procuring the information that had become the base for such an analysis are still unknown." "What do you mean?" "Let's assume that pictures and footage, as well as location, of each culprit in question was obtained via hacking. The problem is, in my opinion, that alone is not enough to get a good grasp on their personality and on what makes them tick." "..." "So I was wondering, what exactly did the Kounomura faction do to obtain enough data to run such an analysis?"

Benzai's observation prompted Munakata to outline the report on the matter he received from Fushimi.

Benzai's eyes went wide. Fuse looked surprised as well.

"A strain that can read minds is involved?" "Yes, correct. Such an ability is very rare and very useful. I assume he did psychological profiling and collected data not only on Tamada-shi and the others like him, but on the Scepter 4 members as well." "Now I see." Benzai nodded, adding things up. "That explains a lot. Our psychological profiles, too, were analyzed by Kounomura, I take it. And via the Coin Toss theory that Kounomura applies, we, too, were made dance to Kounomura's tune. That's also the reason why we got split up and scattered as if in a scenario prepared in advance."

Munakata smiled. "Correct. That is the sleight of hand behind the 'magic' Kounomura-shi has worked on us." "Damn it!" Fuse punched the palm of his hand with the fist he balled his other into. "Why is he going that far?!"

"Only," Munakata suddenly interjected, "even that hypothesis leaves out a few things that I have yet to find an explanation for. That is why I think of it this way: there is a traitor in our ranks."

The easily and casually made statement was shockingly scandalous.

"Huh?" "Eh?"

Both Benzai and Fuse tensed and froze.

Munakata smiled and unhurriedly carried his tea to his lips. Glancing outside the window, he murmured in a perfectly carefree tone, "The clouds look quite menacing, wouldn't you say?"

A single droplet of water landed on the glass of the train's window.

†

It was no exaggeration to say that that person was entrusted with the most difficult mission. As it were, the mission was to infiltrate the enemy territory all by himself. It required smarts, guts and the ability to always stay calm and collected, no matter the situation. And the man in question lived up to that high standard.

Being a police career-track bureaucrat to begin with, by the second half of his twenties he rose through the ranks to become the chief of a small police station, cruising through life comfortably and problem-free. His superiors had a favorable impression of him, and his colleagues and subordinates put a strong faith in him, but a single vice was the ruin of him.

In his case, it wasn't alcohol or women.

It all went downhill thanks to his addiction to far too risky gambling.

Until having graduated from university, he had no connection to gambling to speak of; if anything, he found it rather disgusting. Since he chose to sit for the police force qualification exam, his sense of justice was on the strong side, and he actively wished to crack down on illegal gambling and related crimes.

But one day, his set of values that served as the foundation for his sense of ethics got turned upside down.

The reason for that was a change of heart of a woman he was going to exchange vows and share the future with. They were supposed to get married at the start of the New Year, but the woman did an about-face, declaring that she fell in love with another man, and unilaterally cancelled the engagement.

Due to the shocking heartbreak, he wound up drinking alcohol he wasn't used to drinking and found himself standing in front of a pachinko parlor before he even registered it.

He gave in to despair. But by some ironic twist of fate, that time he ended up scoring an unbelievably big win.

It sparked some really pleasant reaction in his brain. He almost heard how a forbidden door to never pass through slowly opened. The rest happened in the blink of an eye. At first, he got addicted to gambling on horse races and boat races, the amount he bet steadily went up, too, except soon, that alone stopped being enough to satisfy him and he got involved in illegal gambling.

Initially, he was able to hide his destructive habit successfully enough, but before long what was going on became evident along with skyrocketing sums poured into it. Before he knew it, those around him, including his superiors in the force, learned he was a compulsive gambler and, after many a warning and reprimand, he was forced to retire from the police 'at his own request'. In essence, it was a discharge.

In the end, no matter how much people around warned him and what they said to him, he couldn't stop gambling. Having burnt through all of his savings, he was rendered homeless without means of sustenance. But there appeared a man who stretched out a helping hand even to someone like him. It was Kounomura Zen'ichi, from the period when the short man was devoting all of his energy to charity work.

The former policeman was lucky enough to be admitted to a medical facility Kounomura established to cure dependence on alcohol, gambling and the like. Thanks to the rehabilitation program that a board of specialists put together, and the earnestness of Kounomura himself as their honored head, he was able to exercise a degree of control over his urge to gamble. The most important key to that turned out to be learning all about his personality traits and tendencies through exhaustive psychoanalysis.

He had learned he was a person with a so called preference for suffering. Putting it crudely, he was a masochist, the type of person who derived absurd amounts of pleasure from being put in situations that caused him pain and suffering.

He chose to accept it in a positive way, and afterwards, starting with arbitrating conflicts between gangster organizations, he became a certain country's agent affiliated with the government, undertaking dangerous jobs, such as tracking certain people down unofficially and smoking them out.

It was rather difficult to define his job in formal terms, but calling him a troubleshooter, a private eye or a handyman would not be too far from the truth.

To him, the more thrilling a job was, the more it was worth doing. He straightforwardly enjoyed doing risky things like infiltrating various places and gathering intelligence.

And then, he became a supernatural ability holder. It was like a sudden awakening.

That's when he heard those words.

'I see. So you now have one, too. In that case, there is something I want you to do for me, if that's okay with you?'

The one to make that request was Kounomura who the former policeman came to idolize after overcoming his gambling addiction. Two replies afer, he jumped at the request without a second thought.

Partly it was due to the request coming from Kounomura, his benefactor, and the rest of the reason was that the mission sounded particularly difficult and risky. To him, with his borderline abnormal preferences, such circumstances were nothing short of ideal. And so, putting his strain power to good use, he had infiltrated Scepter 4.

The mission requested of him could be divided into 2 big tasks.

The first task was to keep gathering data on Scepter 4.

And the second one was to obstruct Scepter 4's work whenever a chance presented itself.

The former policeman was doing this high difficulty job with flying colors.

He concentrated his intel-gathering efforts on the members of the special operations squad, infiltrated the deepest levels of the facility and when the opportunity presented itself, he inconspicuously employed videotaping. The fact that the information he sent was of use to Kounomura fired him up even more.

Though, when putting together a jamming program in the data processing room in the very heart of Scepter 4 or causing trouble in the generator room to put it out of order, even he felt antsy. Between the algorithms for each member of the special operations squad derived from the Coin Toss theory, Kounomura's detailed plans drawn up based on them, specially developed electronic devices and the ex-policeman's own high grade skills and experience, such feats were made possible.

Needless to say, some assumptions turned out wrong and there were a few small miscalculations here and there, but in general it was safe to say that the sheer military gain was big: the ex-policeman practically single-handedly plunged the HQ into chaos.

And it was precisely because he was so capable that he sensed that the tides were beginning to turn. The turning point was probably Fushimi Saruhiko's return.

Kounomura ordered his man to withdraw immediately if he ever found himself in danger of being exposed. But the former law enforcer, wanting to come back to Kounomura bearing some quality information pertaining to Munakata Reishi, decided to risk it one last time.

His affection for Kounomura threw a monkey wrench into his innately cautious and careful approach.

Through the intelligence network he'd been building, he learned about important documents kept in Munakata Reishi's office, so he chose the right timing and invaded the room. As he was opening one by one the drawers of Munakata's desk, it dawned on him: he had fallen into a trap.

"What the hell are you doing, Gotou?" a voice asked, its owner sounding both accusing and refusing to believe what he was seeing. The voice belonged to Hidaka who, as it turned out, entered the Captain's office unnoticed and was now standing by the door. Next to Hidaka, arms folded across his chest, there stood Fushimi Saruhiko and watched him with ice-cold eyes.

Intelligent as the ex-policeman was, he instantly grasped what was going on. There hardly could be any doubt that the one behind spreading the rumor about crucial information being in the Captain's office to lure out the invader was Fushimi Saruhiko.

Still, the invader tried his luck and replied as Gotou Ren, "Hm? What do you mean?" "Tch!" Immediately, Fushimi clicked his tongue. "Your trick's out in the open already, fucker. We know that you're a strain with a perception manipulation ability, and that you were impersonating Gotou this whole time!"

And with that barked accusation, he steeled himself. Still, his mind demanded he grope for some way out of his desperate situation, so he rushed at the two. At the same time, putting his fingers to his lips, he blew with all of his might, producing a whistle which served as the trigger to activating his perception manipulation ability. Together with the high-pitched sound, “Gotou Ren” shapeshifted into somebody else.

"Ugh!" Hidaka faltered in a big way, for right now the invader had taken the shape of none other than Hidaka and Fushimi's unquestioned boss, Munakata Reishi.

Incidentally, during Awashima Seri's capture, the former law enforcer worked together with Kounomura, too, and employed the exact same trick. When Awashima's eyes registered Munakata's form, she instinctively stayed the hand that was swinging her saber, flabbergasted.

"You two, out of my way!" His voice sounded like a perfect copy, he was sure. Even Fushimi appeared to be stiffening with shock, not to mention the completely frozen Hidaka.

'Alright!' Believing his escape route clear, he tried to slip between Hidaka and Fushimi, and when he did, another miscalculation on his part became evident.

Fushimi didn't stiffen with shock. He tensed summoning his muscle strength.

What he did looked similar to the art of sword drawing. At a fearsome speed, he released the power gathered in his muscles throughout his body and, making the length of his arm from the shoulder to the elbow the pivot point, he swiveled his right arm. In his fist, the handle of his saber was gripped. He smashed it into the face of the running invader, like a quickly executed counterattack.

"Gbwhah!"

The ex-policeman did what looked like almost a half turn in the air before crashing hard into the floor. For a second, consciousness fled him.

"F-Fushimi-saaan!" Hidaka let out a small drawn out whine. "Moooron," Fushimi snorted. "It's not like he's real," he added, spitting the words out. "Look and see for yourself, his perception manipulation ability is coming undone."

As the ex-policeman's consciousness grew hazy, the last words he heard before blacking out were Hidaka's, "Huh? Is it me or does the face this guy's making look awfully content?"

It really just felt so good to get his butt kicked so thoroughly.

†

From a certain point on, Akiyama Himori, detained on molestation charges, stopped letting upset and agitation show on his features altogether. Every morning, he would do his personal maintenance, and then, during the long hours of questioning, he would always stay unfailingly polite and well-mannered. That dignified attitude and demeanor, even assuming it was only a tough facade, impressed even the detective who was in charge of Akiyama.

"You're really something," said middle-aged detective murmured absentmindedly and then immediately coughed, hastening to cover it up, as if ashamed of bringing his personal feelings into the investigation.

Akiyama's only reply was a smile. In that smile, there was no resentment, or anger, or excuses, or pleas - it was free of anything. All Akiyama did was calmly deny the charges against him.

He must have steeled himself.

No. He must have found faith.

Of course, Akiyama went through his fair share of conflict before reaching that state of mind. He felt furious at being arrested on such absurd charges, and embarrassed for his honor to be smeared like that. He also worried about the implications for his organization at his being detained by the police for the whole of the legally permitted detention period. He even considered the possibility of his arrest being a type of harassment by the police against Scepter 4 that they didn't have a favorable opinion of.

But at the end of the day, Akiyama chose to believe: sooner or later, his innocence would be made clear, without fail; so long as justice lay with him, light would eventually shine on his circumstances, just like clouds hiding the sun would eventually be gone along with the passage of time.

For truth's sake it should be noted that were Akiyama alone in this fight, perhaps, he wouldn't be quite so sure about it. But he wasn't alone: he had trusty comrades in Scepter 4, starting with Benzai. And what's more, his king, Munakata Reishi, would surely take the most appropriate measures for his sake. That, he could be adamantly sure of.

Maybe his faith was a little too blind. But that was the kind of man Akiyama Himori was, and he accepted himself that way and considered it a good thing. That's why he concluded that what he had to do was to simply wait, calmly and patiently. That was all there was to it.

And...

The moment he was waiting for had suddenly come.

The door to the room he was held in opened, and the detective in charge informed him, "Hey, you can come out. The charges against you have been dropped." "Is that so," Akiyama intoned and quickly started to gather his things. "What, ain't you gonna ask why?" hearing his disinterested response, the detective in charge questioned in wonder.

Akiyama shook his head.

He knew precisely why: Munakata Reishi and Akiyama's squadmates collaborated with the attorney and worked something out. That's why Akiyama simply said, "I expect I will hear the details from my superior."

He was already thinking about what would need to be done once he returned to his duties. He strongly suspected that Scepter 4's situation at the moment was difficult.

For that reason, it was imperative he return as soon as possible and start filling the hole left by his absence. In the first place, his own ineptitude was to blame for his winding up in such a situation.

If one were to search for the most fitting descriptors for the members of Scepter 4, it could be said that, for example, Zenjou Gouki was best described as a warrior, Doumyouji as a free spirit, and when it came to Akiyama, the most fitting description would be a man with makings of a natural-born soldier. A professional who was naturally disciplined and utterly devoted to his task.

But still, when Akiyama exited the police station and saw his partner there, back propped against a pillar and one hand raised in a silent greeting, he couldn't help breaking into a smile. Benzai Yuujirou walked up to him with unhurried steps, and Akiyama bowed his head slightly but sincerely.

"...Sorry to have caused you so much trouble."

He knew even without anyone telling him just how tough Benzai had it having to cover up for Akiyama by doing his partner's share of work in addition to his own.

Benzai wasn't too verbose.

"Don't worry about it," was all he said, shrugging his shoulders a little. Clapping Akiyama a couple of times on the chest to let him know that he considered this conversation over, he headed over to the parked car.

His attitude was calm and collected, as always, even as light drizzle was sprinkling from above.

"Heh."  Akiyama smiled and followed him.

For the two of them, that was enough.

[seotipsandtricks-me]

There are 4 stages I go through when I’m condemned to do a repetitive task, like filling in and submitting hundreds of online forms. Stage 1 is hope, that it won’t be all that tedious. After all, isn’t life what you make it? After the first few are done, hope is crushed and I move into phase 2 – the despair phase. Doing those first few sucked and I just projected that out into the future, multiplied by 200. But my fate is sealed so I push on. Now I’ve done 15 and I’m starting to perversely enjoy it. This is the simple joy phase, in which my world shrinks and my mission as a human being becomes solely to add these manager emails to the correct local listings profile. No more bills to pay, no nothing – some might call it a peak meditative state. But it couldn’t last. Sharply I arrive at stage 4 – searing hand pain. I’m at It doesn’t have to be this way. In an alternate universe, other me is doing something more interesting while his computer is doing the boring task of updating site manager emails, all on its own. Click here to see it in action. In one of these universes, your computer is doing your work for you. Chrome Can Be Your Robot Slave Did you know that Google Chrome can be automated? Anything you can do on web pages in the browser can also be programmed to happen in a sequence you choose or based on triggers. There is a special version of Chrome designed for this, which can be most powerfully controlled by scripts in languages such as Python, but that’s not the only way to do it. There is a tool you can download for free which opens this up to the non-coder. If you are halfway good at setting up newly purchased consumer electronic equipment, you should be fine with this tool. So what is it? SeeShell is a free browser that you download. It takes your instructions and robotically carries them out on any list of URLs that you provide. Or, it can record any repetitive browser task you do and attempt to replicate it. The learning curve is far lower than for coding, but the results are similar in power. Here’s the working example encase you missed it. SeeShell Automated Browser Overview This is what the browser you download looks like On the left you’ve got a normal looking browser display. On the right, there’s a list of pre-recorded automation sequences to show you examples of what the browser can do and how to try to replicate this for your own needs. What you will eventually do is make your own automation sequence. This is what an automation sequence looks like If I click on one of those Demos, I see the above – a list of sequenced steps detailing actions and the conditions for those actions. To run through the first few steps in the example above: Open a URL which I have entered – easy.Scan for an image match on the page to check if it’s all loaded.Click an image on the page.Do whatever else is needed. There are many possible actions you can program in. For example, you can get the browser to visit a list of pages and capture specific text. Image Matching Technology The core principle of SeeShell and what gives it its power is the image matching technology. You take a handy screenshot of what you want to click on, in the style of the Windows snipping tool, and it remembers what it’s looking for. It will try to click on that thing when it sees it, or do another action you require. I just took a handy in-tool screenshot of the ‘Google Search’ button, and clicked test to see if the tool could recognise it as best match. It did, with a confidence of 0.98, almost total. The other square (bottom left) was a rival match, but this only had a confidence of 0.51, so wouldn’t be clicked. This is the essence of how you automate using this tool – select an action from the dropdown list, and tie it to a feature of the page using the image matching. There are lots of other ways of nailing down an area of a page, but this is the core one. The long list of actions the tool can take. Looping Through a List So you’ve made your first automated sequence, and it worked! But you had to put the URL in yourself manually. You’ve got a list of thousands that need to be done! This is where the CSV file reading functionality comes in. It’s slightly trickier than what we have covered so far, but pretty easy once you know it. Let’s say you want the browser to visit automate-me.com/page-1, enter ‘page 1 confirmed’ into the text box and click submit, then load up automate-me.com/page-2 and enter ‘page 2 confirmed’. So there is different text which needs to be entered, depending on the page you are on. No worries – just make a .csv file with the URLs in the left column and the text you want added in the column next to it. Next, tell the tool where to look for the file to loop through. There will be a place on your hard drive where it will look for files. On my install, it was at C:UsersRichard.LewisDocumentsSeeShell.Browserdownload.In your automated program, select the ‘Set’ option and choose ‘ReadCSV’ in the name dropdown, next to it.Next along, in ‘value’, enter this: ${!FOLDER.DOWNLOAD}yourfile.csv, replacing ‘yourfile.csv’ with your full csv file name Now it knows where your file is. Next, tell it how to use your file on each loop. This has 2 parts – 1) opening the URL, and 2) adding the correct text for the URL. Create another action step, this time selecting ‘Open’ as we will be using it to open the URLs in your csv file.Fill in the url as ${!COL1}, this tells the tool to try to open whatever URL is in column 1 of your csv file, and you can change this column number to anything you like Telling the tool where your list of web-pages and text is, and which column contains the URLs which need to be opened. Following on from this, at the appropriate point in the sequence, add the step which gets the text to be added in the csv, and place it where it needs to go on the page. Select ‘clicktype’ as you want the tool to click on a location based on an image match, and then type something in.Set the image.For value, like we did above, enter ${!COL2} to indicate the column the text will be taken from. This ensures the right text gets input on the right page. To set it all in motion, save your automated program and click ‘Play Loop’ on the main browser interface. Then comes the fun part – watching it do your work for you while you do something else. Here’s that working example again. The most important thing is knowing which tasks to automate and which to just do I recently added 930 site manager emails to Google My Business for a local SEO client. This was a task that it was worth automating. Creating the automation sequence took me an hour or two, and looking after it took what was effectively another hour. So that’s 2-3 hours of engaging and stimulating work, vs. 6 hours of tedium. Doing your own web automation doesn’t make your work go away completely, but it does turn long, boring tasks into shorter, more interesting ones. If I’d had 100 to add, it wouldn’t have been worth the time to make the automation sequence. I would have been better off doing it manually. When deciding whether to invest time and energy in creating an automation sequence, I look at the following: Will it take me more than 2 hours of drudgery to do the task manually?Could this task come up again? If yes to both, you can start having fun making your automation sequence. If no, prepare yourself to experience the hope, despair, joy and searing hand pain (in that order) of manual completion. The post A Simple Guide to Web Browser Automation appeared first on FOUND.

[blizzweirdo]

“No Omen, No Country’s Cause” Ch. 11

Sorry this is late, y’all. I became suddenly ill this weekend, and I’m still pretty x_x Hopefully this chapter is not weird because of it. I wanted this chapter to be dual perspective, but it just didn’t happen. This chapter follows Marín as she inadvertently discovers Nova’s mission and defends the Tyrador system against the UED, Stukov, and the Tal’darim.

Marín couldn’t sleep. In the darkness of her quarters, she laid staring at the grey, metallic ceiling above her. She tried to count the rivets to calm her mind, but she kept going back to the battle ahead and the plans, and choices they had made. Marín was still disheartened by their decision to not help Stukov. Asking for help from Artanis and Vorazun would even the odds, but they would need extra time for the evacuations of both Tyrador IX and VIII, and Stukov’s help would increase the UED’s momentum. Other than the protoss, nothing had really changed on their side. Her fleet had been able to replace what they had lost (and were working to add to the fleet), but the Republic had not—they had lost a lot of their production when Tarsonis was captured. The shadowy Moebius Corp. was the only fleet that had increased its number, pulling resources from somewhere beyond Umojan and Republic territories. Marín had encountered possessed Moebius troops during the End War. Controlled and abandoned by Amon, those who hadn’t died had been left to the Void. But Valerian still owned the laboratories and had a majority share in the company. He quietly began recruiting again when the dust settled—another sketchy detail that had been exposed by her government, the Umojans. With such mercurial allies and unpredictable enemies, the battle for the Tyrador system left her uneasy.

     Marín looked at the clock on her nightstand. It was three hours before she was due on the bridge. She decided she would go ahead and get up. She slipped quietly out of bed, trying not to disturb Vermaak who slumbered next to her. His sleep was untroubled by worry; he was steadfast in his duty and unquestioning of his orders in a way that she was not. Snoring like the engine of his vulture, he didn’t even move as she grabbed a uniform from the cabinet, dressed quietly in the bathroom, grabbed her datapad, and left.

     As she neared the lift to the bridge, she found herself going back over Stukov’s extraction plan and the information he had included about his son—what he looked like and where he was being held. Stukov had identified a crucial weakness in the carriers which could be exploited in other ways, and even an abortive attempt would have most likely put him on their side. She had toyed with going slightly rogue and assembling a rescue herself with those loyal to her—Ahlberg, Barre, Jansa—but if any of them were lost because of it, she couldn’t live with herself. Disobeying Augustin was also something that she was loathe to do.

     The night bridge crew greeted her with surprise. She told them that nothing was wrong; she was just going to her office—but then she was distracted by what the bridge crew was watching. Projected holographically was a field of thousands of golden orbs, glistening in the light of Tyrador’s distant star.

     “Is that the protoss minefield?”

     “Yes,” a commander on the watch said, “the last few are being set now.”

     “This is Karax, phasesmith to the Golden Armada. The last mines are away. Initiating shadow mode.” The globes disappeared in a wave of gossamer colors as if they had never been there. Marin stood staring, trying to pick them out against the dark of space. But she of course could not. The orbs were undetectable

     Marín had always been in awe of the protoss and their technology. Umoja had always been slightly more advanced than the other terran colonies, but the protoss made them all look like Neanderthals. And despite the Olympian task they had undertaken—enclosing both planets with a self-replicating shield of mines—they were ahead of schedule. Marín walked into her office and sat down at her desk, pulling up all the Core Fleet requisitions for the battled ahead. It didn’t hurt to make sure that there were no mistakes. She thumbed through them, page by page. But then she stopped; something wasn’t right. Among the orders was one for her wraith—and not for her use. She didn’t normally even submit a requisition for it; it wasn’t even in the normal manifest. The authorization code that had been used was hers, but there was no pilot attached. Her wraith was set to be prepped and launched in thirty minutes—before both she and Jansa were on duty.

     Marín activated the comm unit on her desk to see if she could get in touch with the engineer that was slated to oversee the hangar at that time. There was no response. A feeling of foreboding set in, and she wasn’t sure why. It was most likely a mistake. A weird one, but a mistake. Someone missed a digit somewhere—or I did—and the wrong bird was pulled. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that multiple mistakes would have had to have been made for something like this to happen, which made it very unlikely that it had been an accident.

     She called Jansa in her quarters. The comm rang more than a dozen times before Jansa answered. When she did, it was obvious that Marín had woken her. Her light-blond, curly hair that was usually trussed into a tight bun, radiated from her round face like a halo from a medieval Earth painting.

     “Do you know what time it is?” Dani said grumpily.

     “Is that any way to speak to your commanding officer?” Marín said sarcastically.

     “Do you know what time it is, Admiral?”

     “That’s better… You know anything about someone else needing to fly my wraith?” Dani looked at her drowsily, not really fully comprehending what she was saying.”

     “No…”

     “There’s a requisition in for it, and I didn’t place it. Will you meet me in the hangar? It’s slated to leave in twenty-five minutes.”

     “What?” She said, still confused. “Okay? I’ll… I’ll be down there in a minute. I gotta… get on pants.”

     “Yes, that’d be a good idea. See you in five?”

     “Eh. Yeah.”

     Jansa ended the call. Marín stood to walk to the door, but she hesitated. Thinking better of it, she opened the bottom drawer of her desk and took out her stun pistol, affixing it to her belt. She wasn’t sure what she would find when she got there, but she didn’t want to be caught by surprise.

     Marín met Jansa outside the hangar. Jansa hadn’t taken the time to pull back her hair. It bobbed as she jogged down the hallway. She finished fastening her coveralls as she stood next to Marín.

     “Show me this requisition order.” Marín handed Jansa her datapad. Jansa looked at the order. “That’s your authorization code. But no pilot? How would you even make an order like that in the database? It shouldn’t let you.”

     “I know. That’s what I thought.”

     Marín and Jansa walked into the hangar bay. It was still early, and so it was eerily quiet.

     “Who’s on duty right now?” Marín asked.

     “Uh, Erik, I think. Let’s see who’s in the shack.”

     The shack was what Jansa called her office, which was a large shipping container that she had converted for her use and shared with the other engineers. Jansa entered, followed by Marín. There were shelves lining either side of the windowless room with random parts and scrap stuffed into every inch. Cables hung from above and everything was covered in oil.

     “You know, you could get someone to clean in here. We have people who do that.”

     “I did!” Their camaraderie was interrupted by Jansa’s yelp of surprise. On the floor behind her desk was Erik, her night subordinate. He was out cold. Marín checked his pulse.

     “He’s breathing. His pulse seems fine. He doesn’t look injured…”

     “I’m going to call a med—”

     There was a sudden crash from outside in the hangar. Both women instinctively crouched down lower.

     “What was that?” Jansa whispered.

     “Do you have a surveillance feed?”

     Jansa quietly stepped over Erik and pulled up the hangar’s security feed on her console. The perspective flipped a few times before it landed on Marín’s wraith. A tall, blonde woman in the uniform of a Terran Republic ghost was preparing to board it. She was stooping over to pick up her rifle and lean it against the wraith again. It must have fallen over. The wraith was not on the path of the launch rack yet and was still resting on its docking supports.

     “Do you recognize--?”

     “No idea who that is. You stay here. I’m going to go find out.”

     Marin took her pistol from her belt and slowly and quietly made her way out of the shack. She crept towards her wraith, ducking behind liberators, banshees, and tanks while keeping in line of sight of her wraith. Carefully, she inched forward, making sure to keep an eye on the ghost. If she didn’t, the woman could cloak and get the best of her. Between them was the rack’s deep-set track, yellow “DO NOT STAND” sings on either side of it. The woman continued to place items in the wraith—grenades and other armaments, she realized—until Marín was a few meters from her. She raised her pistol.

     “Hands up! Put your hands where I can see them!”

     The woman’s shoulder’s slumped, and she let out an annoyed sigh.

     “You Umojans sure are a nuisance.”

     “I’m going to be a ‘nuisance’ to anyone who injures my people and tries to steal my bird. Turn around and face me—slowly.”

     The woman turned. Her goggles were down, but the coldness of her gaze made Marín’s stomach flutter.

     “Kick the gun towards me…”

     The woman deftly touched her rifle with the tip of her boot and pushed it towards Marín. It skipped over the launch rack’s grooved path in the floor and slid next to her.

     “You’re making a mistake,” the woman said. “I have an important mission. And I’ve been ordered to let no one stand in my way—even you, Admiral Marín.”

     “Why do you need my wraith? How did you get my authorization codes? I need to know now.”

     “I’m sorry. I can’t tell you.”

     Marín felt invisible fingers tightening around her neck. She took a deep breath while she still could and fired at her. The woman tipped Marín’s hand at the last moment, and the shot went wide. The ghost angrily stepped forward, tightening her telekinetic grip on Marín’s throat and taking her weapon out of her hand. Marín’s vision started to tunnel. But then there was a sudden rush of wind and a deafening roar—and the woman and the sensation of being strangled were gone. Marín took in gasping breaths and looked around. The woman was lying in a heap on the floor several meters away. The booster on the launch rack had engaged without the wraith and had hit her. Then the emergency brake had engaged because the hangar door was closed, catapulting the woman down the hangar. She should have been much further away than she had landed. In the seconds before the impact, the woman must have been able to telekinetically slow the rack. Marín heard Jansa’s heavy boots pounding the hangar deck as she ran to her.

     “That was quick thinking.”

     “I was just waiting for that bitch to step on that track.”

     Marín laughed and started coughing. “You call that med team?”

     “No…”

     “Well, call them now and tell them we need some psi disrupter restraints. Let’s get whoever this is patched up and maybe we can get an explanation out of her.”

     As the med team came in, Jansa directed them around, leaving Marín to sit on the floor and rest. Her neck was badly bruised, and it was still hard for her to breathe. She watched as they loaded the ghost onto a gravsled gurney, restraining her and putting a psi disrupter collar around her neck. A nurse came, scanned Marín’s neck, and gave her an injection for pain, telling her she’d be fine. Marín got up, retrieved her datapad from the shack, and followed the gurney to the med bay. Ahlberg, her XO, was waiting outside. His face was flushed as if he had ran all the way there. He had obviously dressed quickly; the asymmetrical zipper on his uniform jacket was unzipped.

     “I got a call… You were down…”

     “I’m okay, thanks to Dani.”

     The gurney passed by him as they glided her into the med bay. His eyes widened.

     “Is that a Terran Republic ghost?”

     “Looks like it.”

     “They sent her to assassinate you?” Ahlberg said angrily. “Did Horner do this? I’ll bet it was Valerian! What do they think they are doing sending…” Marín watched as his blood pressure started to rise, the reddening of his skin even visible under the short-cropped hair at his temples.

     “Anders. We have no idea why she’s here, and I have no idea what her mission was. And I’m going to need your help finding out.” She slapped his broad chest with her datapad. He reflexively caught it. “Go in there and get her prints and run them through the Republic database. I doubt anything will come up, but even a response of ‘classified’ will tell us whether she was actually working for them or not. I’m going to call Vermaak. I need a shadowguard down here.”

     “Right!” Ahlberg stomped into the med bay. Marín put her hand to one of the unbroken line of touchscreens that ran along every hallway on Umojan ships. A UI popped up on screen, recognizing her handprint. She opened a comm to her own quarters. A brief thought came to her: Why did Vermaak not come to the med bay? Surely someone thought to tell him I had been injured. But maybe not. It was logical to notify her second if she was incapacitated, but not “next of kin.” She hadn’t died, after all.

     Vermaak sleepily answered the call, shirtless and having just rolled out of bed.

     “Hello?”

     “Hey, uh, there’s been an incident down here. I need a shadowguard.”

     “What? What do you need a shadowguard for?” Vermaak said, his eyes narrowing.

     “We had a security breach. There’s a Republic ghost down here that was messing with my wraith…” Vermaak looked irritated, which Marín thought was odd. “She attacked me.”

     “She what?” he exclaimed. There. That’s the right reaction. He paused for a moment and sighed. “I’ll send Baze. Where are you?”

     “Med bay. They’re working on the ghost right now.”

     “Okay. I’m coming down there.”

     “You don’t have to…”

     “Don’t argue with me.”

     “Fine. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

     Vermaak started struggling into his uniform as he cut the comm. Marín wandered back into the med bay, questioning the doctor on call about the ghost’s status. She learned that she had a few broken ribs and a slight concussion, but that she would be fine in a few moments. As a precaution, they were keeping her heavily sedated. “Baze” arrived soon after. Marín was not familiar with any of the shadowguards on her own vessel, which was by design. She could make requests for their deployment, but they were under Vermaak and Oyaleni’s control. Even then, shadowguards would sometimes deny requests from them because of their own internal command structure. No one knew any of them on sight, no one knew their true leader, and no one knew their real names. He appeared in traditional shadowguard garb with a mask and breathing apparatus obscuring his face. She had probably seen him before in the mess, cleaning the deck, Or, heck, pouring me a pint in the bar. All of them live on the ship, and I have no idea who they are in their “real” lives—if their more mundane lives are their “real” ones.

     “Baze?”

     “Good morning, Admiral.” She shook his hand as he calmly extended it. All of his movements were controlled. He was short but lithe, his presence ominous in his black environment suit. “This is her? The Republic ghost?”

     “Well, we’re not entirely sure of where she came from, but her uniform would suggest it. I was hoping you could… Get something from her.”

     “I can try. She’s sedated?”

     “Yes, and we have a disrupter collar on her.”

     “You’re going to have to take that off… It will disrupt me as well.”

     “I can’t do that…”

     “But I can activate her neural inhibitor… Take her down a few notches.”

     “What’s that?”

     “The Dominion implanted most ghosts with inhibitors as a way to shut them down if they go AWOL. We don’t use them, but we also don’t brainwash our operatives, so they… Don’t tend to go rogue as often. I can activate and tune it to try and shut down her defenses. We used to do this if we got in range of Dominion ghosts all the time—but you have to get really close.”

     Marín considered this for a moment. She was unconscious, so it should be okay to take them off.

     “Remove the collar please, nurse.” Once it was removed, Baze pulled up a chair next to her bed. He removed a small tool from his pocket and placed it against her forehead. It buzzed slightly. The ghost’s brow furrowed.

     “I’ve activated the inhibitor. Now, let’s take a stroll…” He sat there unmoving for several minutes. Marín didn’t know what to do with herself. Could she speak to him? Was she disturbing him? She locked the outside med bay door and ordered the nurses away. Finally, he sat back in the chair. He shook himself briskly, as if waking from a deep sleep.

     “Anything?” She said. He sighed.

     “This is a dangerous girl. I… Haven’t seen someone like this in a long time.”

     “What do you mean by ‘dangerous?’”

     “PI of somewhere around ten, more or less.”

     “What? That’s…”

     “Extremely high. The highest, actually. Her name is Nova. The mission wasn’t about you. Something about the zerg? That’s all I’ve got. Sorry.”

     “That’s better than nothing.”

     “And you’d better get that collar back on her. That inhibitor won’t be enough once she’s awake.”

     “Thanks for the heads up.”

     “If you need anything else, let me know… And if you end up keeping her around…”

     “Yes?”

     “I’d like some time with her… Just to see what someone like that… Is like.”

     “I’m not keeping her on this boat any longer than I have to, sorry.”

     “Understood.”

     Baze left quickly. Ahlberg slipped back in through the door as he was leaving. Marín called a nurse in to replace the psi disrupter collar.

     “Was that… a shadowguard?”

     “Yeah, I thought one might help.”

     “Did he?”

     “Yes and no. You get anything?”

     “I confirmed she has a record. It appears to be Dominion, so she’s been active a long time. And, of course, it’s classified.” He returned the datapad to her.

     “Sounds like Horner and I need to have a little chat.”

     “You think he ordered this?”

     “No, but he has to at least have known about it.” Marín looked at her datapad. The UED fleet was due to attack in thirty minutes. She needed to be on the bridge. “Let’s get out of here.” Marín told the nurse on duty to call her if Nova awoke.

     Just then, Vermaak entered. She waved Ahlberg on.

     “Is that the ghost?”

     “The one that tried to strangle me? Yeah.”

     “Strangle you?” Vermaak said, more loudly than he intended. “Are you okay?”

     “Some bruises, but you probably can’t see them now.” Vermaak stroked her neck gently.

     “Faintly. They’re there. What did she want?”

     “My wraith? I don’t know what for.”

     “Why didn’t you call me,” Vermaak said. “I would have dealt with it. Security here is my concern.”

     “There wasn’t time.” For the first time since it happened, Marín allowed herself to be scared. The attack, she realized, would be something that would haunt her. She was used to gunfire, she was used to death, but psionic powers were something that were outside her frame of reference. They were something invisible and unobservable; they were something she felt shouldn’t exist like magic or the supernatural. But the fingers around her throat had been as real as if they were Nova’s fingers, her flesh-and-blood hand at her throat. Noticing her fear, Vermaak pulled her in and held her.

     “You’re fine. You and Jansa handled it. But…” There’s always the “but,” Marín thought. “You need to quit going off on your own. You’re the commander of the Core Fleet. People depend on you. You can’t go off in your wraith or walk right up to a ghost. Let your people handle it. That’s what we’re here for.” She pushed him gently away.

     “I had no idea there would be a Terran Republic ghost waiting for me in the hangar bay. That wasn’t me ‘going off on my own.’”

     “I know. But you worry me.”

     “And I worry about you. And you’re right. I have people depending on me. I need to be on the bridge right now, actually.”

     “Yep. Next time someone tries to requisition your wraith, you’ll talk to me, okay?”

     “Yes, fine.” She squeezed his hand, “I’ll see you later.”

     Marín left and headed towards the bridge. The UED would appear soon, but she needed to talk to Horner. Something nagged her as she entered the lift to the bridge. “Next time someone tries to requisition your wraith…” Did I tell him that? I don’t remember. I must have, she thought.

     As she walked onto the bridge, she felt ready to confront Horner.

     “Barre, get me the Hyperion.”

     “Aye.”

     “Oh, please bite his head off. Please, Admiral. That’s something I need to see,” Ahlberg said from the other side of the bridge. She shushed him.

     Horner’s face appeared above the holographic war table.

     “Admiral Marín, what can I do for you?”

     Keeping her face as neutral as possible, she began her interrogation. “You could answer some questions. Do you know a ghost… By the name of Nova? I believe she’s one of yours?” Horner went white and suddenly looked very uncomfortable. “That’s what I thought. What were her orders?”

      “I’m… Not at liberty to say…”

      Marín could feel the anger rising in her. She had a lot of respect for Horner, but she had no time for him hiding behind whatever security the Terran Republic had hiding this mission.

      “You’re the president-in-exile of the Terran Republic. If you’re not at ‘liberty,’ then who is? Is Valerian who’s really in charge of the Republic’s fleet? Wait, you know what? It doesn’t really matter. Because both of you are in a lot of trouble. Your ghost assaulted a flag officer, which makes you in violation of our treaty.”

      The bridge crew started murmuring behind her. Barre looked on with rapt attention. He’s always been a gossip. He’ll get out the popcorn in a minute.

       “What? Who?” Horner shouted, panicked.

       “Me! You sent her here to steal my wraith and you didn’t think I’d figure it out? What the hell do you want with it, anyway?”

       “The mission… It didn’t involve you; you weren’t the target. You have the last working wraith in the fleet, and that’s what Nova needed for the mission…”

        “What mission?”

        “To… Eliminate Stukov.”

        “You can’t help him, but you’ll kill him? How was she going to do that?”

        “Nova… Was going to use your wraith to get close to his vessel if he got past the minefield. Moebius’s techs figured out how Stukov was seeing through our cloaking technology. She… made some modifications to it... Even without them, after your meeting with him, Nova thought she could bluff her way onboard… Her mission was to get on the Aleksander and take him out. With the new cloaking system and her abilities, he wouldn’t have known what hit him.”

      “So, not only were you going to have her use my wraith, but you were also going to have her impersonate me and squander what good will I had been able to build with Admiral Stukov?”

      “I wouldn’t… put it that way… Look, it wasn’t my idea.”

     “If it wasn’t, does she work for the Terran Republic or Moebius?”

     “Neither. Both? Mostly Valerian.”

     “Well, that explains a lot. I could think of a thousand better uses for a ghost that powerful…”

      As she said it, half of an idea came to her.

     “Look, I’ll recall and reprimand her. I admit… Valerian’s getting a bit out of hand.”

      “No, she’s staying here until she can answer for her crimes. And she’s in no shape to go anywhere anyway. We’ll discuss the ramifications of Valerian’s actions when we’re not about to battle the UED. And the next time you two rub what few braincells you have together and come up with something stupid like that again, maybe inform your allies, okay? Marín out.”

      She made a motion across her throat for Barre to end the transmission. Ahlberg started clapping slowly.

       “That’s just like the Dominion… I mean the Terran Republic. Just do whatever they want whenever they want and deal with the consequences later.”

       “We’ll just have to remember that when it’s our turn,” Marín said.

       “We got that on video, right? I mean, on the bridge recorder?” Barre said.

       “Yeah?”

       “I’m gonna watch that again later. Maybe do an edit…”

       “Please don’t. Okay, enough. How much time’s on the clock?”

       “Ten minutes.”

       “Get us a visual, Barre.”

       The visual feed above the war table changed to that of the “minefield” outside, hidden from view, and the protoss fleet sitting just behind it. Beside them was the combined might of Moebius, the Terran Republic, and the Umojan Protectorate. For the first time, she felt as though they had a chance. And if they successfully defended the Tyrador system, they could push the fleet back to Tarsonis, cut off their supply chains, and force them to surrender there.

      She addressed the fleet as she always did, and let the clock run down. Right on schedule, UED ships began slamming into view on the other side of the minefield as they dropped out of FTL. Karax had positioned them in such a way that getting any closer in FTL would be perilous because of the two planets’ gravity wells. Beside them, bloated leviathans appeared, and the flying monsters of the zerg. She knew that among the battlecruisers, infested ships, and leviathans was the Aleksander. And just hours ago, they had been discussing a peaceful accord. But once again, they were on opposite sides of the conflict.

     “Hold, everyone. Wait until they’ve entered the minefield.”

     The UED ships first started striking the mines. A few battlecruisers were taken out. A science vessel tried to EMP a small area but ended up EMPing a few of his compatriots—the ships were too packed together for EMP to work effectively and any mines struck by a EMP were replaced through replication by a neighbor. The zerg units held back, as if considering their options. Or waiting for something.

     Another vessel, large and dark, dropped out of FTL. Its black hull and the clutter of UED ships around it made it take her a few moments to recognize it—the vessel was a Tal’darim mothership.

     “The Tal’darim?”

     Gasps of horrified surprise echoed across the bridge. At the same time, Tal’darim interceptors began launching from the mothership, creating a cloud of destruction in the minefield. The rest of the Tal’darim fleet, starting with void rays, began warping in behind the mothership. And then, suddenly, the Mothership was gone. All at once, the Uhuru’s visual field changed.

     “Barre, what am I looking at—,”she said, then realized what the red glow that was taking up the entire holographic image was: the underbelly of the Tal’darim mothership. “They blinked right on top of us! Get us out of here!” Proximity klaxons began ringing, and liberators started screaming by chasing the Tal’darim interceptors. “Fall back!” As the Uhuru backed away, Marín’s hope for Tyrador began to fade.

[norowareshimono]

Gray Log: The Innermost Secrets of Manga! (Part 1)

I’m translating the text version of this interview, that can be found here, given that the manga version included in Gray Log isn’t as detailed. For now, I have no intention to translate the latter, as it would be redundant in my opinion.

Other DGM Translations

《1》Making the storyboards lead around by the characters

Hijihara: I’m a newbie mangaka, Hijihara Erubo. As a great fan of D.Gray-Man, I also had the pleasure of watching the Nico Live* stream from the other day. I’m really, really nervous, but I look forward to working with you!

*Hijihara is talking about the Nico Nico Live that took place in 2016 January 1st

Hoshino: So, you watched it! Thank you so much. I thought that maybe you could draw me with the stream’s Hoshino BOX*, so I came wearing the same clothes I wore back then (laugh). I’m not sure if I can tell you all anything useful, but I’ll do my best. Thank you for having me here.

*The handmade cardboard box that Hoshino wore over her head in the stream.

Hijihara: Let’s start right away then. Could you tell us how do you make your storyboards?

Hoshino: The process is basically like this: I first create an outline in my head, then I have a briefing session with my editor, and then I finally make the storyboard. I always start with a thought-out outline for the chapter, but even so I end up with something completely different every time… The outline takes into account the flow of the story, and I honestly want to follow it. However, when introducing the characters, the story goes in a totally different direction. They won’t listen to me, even if they’re my own creations (bitter laugh). However, I know the principles behind their actions and why they behave as they do, so I’ll abandon the original outline if I can accept the new direction they’re taking. After that, I remake the events of the story.

Hijihara: So, your characters lead you around?

Hoshino: Exactly. The initial outline makes the story neat and coherent, but leaving it to the characters makes the story develop in a more exciting way. But then I often end up in situations where there aren’t enough pages when working on the storyboard with a mind on the characters’ will and opinions like that (laugh). Of course, the conclusion will also be completely different… Whenever my editor looks at it and goes “this is completely different from the briefing,” I’ll single-mindedly persuade them to keep it. Most of it stays due to my stubbornness, but I do revise the parts my editor won’t accept no matter what.

Hijihara: Is it better to stick to your ideas for the storyboard?

Hoshino: It may be difficult for a newbie to speak their mind to their editor, but I think that in the end it’s better to carry it out in a way you won’t regret later. For me, the harsh schedule of weekly serialization became an excuse to reach some compromises over my storyboards that made “D.Gray-Man” diverge a bit from the story I had first conceived. I regret that immensely to this day, and I think about how nice would it have been if, instead of giving up that easily, I had insisted and gotten to draw it as I’ve wanted… That’s why I believe we should have a strong stance regarding our manga.

Hijihara: How detailed are your storyboards?

Hoshino: I currently work in digital from the storyboard stage, drawing them in a style that is detailed enough to be used even as a rough sketch. I’ve looked up to Tite Kubo from Bleach since I heard he makes them like this. However, I wasn’t up to the challenge at first, when I was serialized weekly, and I only changed methods to my current one when I started to work in digital. I made use of simplified drawings before, and the characters’ faces were as complex as the “heno-ji*” emoji (laugh).

*An emoji made with the letters へのへのもへじ, as seen here.

Hijihara: Back when you drew traditionally, what did you draw the storyboards in?

Hoshino: I used a variety of things. I worked with whatever I wanted or felt like I could draw on, so it wasn’t like I had a notebook saved for only that purpose. I’ve used sketchbooks, sketch pads… Once I even drew it on the back of a photocopy I found around (laugh). Even if I did decide to use a particular notebook, for example, I would just end up being like “I have to work this month too… Woah, it’s so white… I can’t look at it anymore…” each time I saw it. Then, I would choose to abandon the notebook I didn’t even want to see anymore and get another sketch pad to draw there.

Hijihara: So that’s how you stay motivated. Did you work at home?

Hoshino: When I lived in Ochanomizu, I mostly drew the storyboards in this café (the one where the interview took place). It’s one of my favorites, and the owner is a wonderful person. The coffee is delicious and, on top of that, the indirect lighting the shop uses for ambience makes the pages appear a soft sepia instead of white… I suffer a lot from white page syndrome, so when there is something there, no matter how small, it helps me relax (laugh). Isn’t the same for you too, Hijihara?

Hijihara: Yes, I completely understand the fear of facing a white sheet…

Hoshino: You could also smoke here and, given that I hate tobacco, that meant I couldn’t stay here for too long. Thanks to that, I could focus and finish my storyboards in a short period of time. I would’ve slacked off if I were too comfy, which is why I think the ideal working place for this type of work is somewhere “comfortable but difficult to stay in.”

《2》The advantages of digital drawing

Hijihara: You said this before, but you’re working in digital from the storyboard stage, right?

Hoshino: Exactly, but I also drew traditionally until a year ago. I think that the first storyboard for chapter 219 of D.Gray-Man, which appeared in the first issue of the CROWN magazine, was made half traditionally, half in digital. The storyboard that I showed to my editor then was a mix of both mediums. Thereafter, I got used to it gradually and moved to making my storyboards in full digital. The tablets I’m currently using are WACOM’s “Cintiq Companion” and the recently released VAIO’s “Z Canvas.” The “Z Canvas” is an excellent tablet that can process even heavy files that use lots of memory, like videos or graphics, smoothly and with no freezing. I bought it after watching a video of Nakamura Hikaru, the author of Saint Young Men, working with it. I immediately decided it was for me because, to be honest, I’ve felt an affinity with her over our shared birthday.

Hijihara: You seem to work in Clip Studio Paint, but what was the reason for going from traditional to digital?

Hoshino: I was an advocate of traditional drawing at first, but I changed sides after facing problems with my work environment. When I worked traditionally, I had created the ideal conditions for me to draw at my workplace, from the angle of the desk to the way the light fell on the manuscript. However, at a certain point I had no option but to work on my manuscript outside of my own workplace… and doing so in an environment different from the usual proved to be surprisingly difficult, so I decided to make the change to digital, for which location doesn’t matter. I’m the type to act as soon as I decide on something, so I soon bought a liquid crystal tablet and, without any practice whatsoever, I immediately started to work on the next manuscript. My first experience with digital drawing had been a failure and I thought I wouldn’t draw on a computer ever again given my little to no knowledge about it. My deadline was close, so I remember being totally absorbed into the task and sending it to print despite having no idea of what I was doing. I was in the middle of serialization, so I didn’t have time to practice at all (bitter laugh).

Hijihara: Didn’t you resist to changing to digital?

Hoshino: Once I made the decision, I didn’t waver at all. I had bought an expensive tablet and software to be able to work in digital, so I was determined to not waste all the money I had invested (laugh).

Hijihara: Did you struggle replicating your line work in digital form?

Hoshino: I wasn’t aware of it, but I did. Do you know how in digital you can zoom as much as you want, unlike paper? I didn’t take the zoom rate into consideration at first, so the lineart ended up being thinner than expected and the drawings didn’t turn out well. I was like “I’m inking just as always, why is this happening?!” (laugh).

Hijihara: By the way, how many people are working in D.Gray-Man at the moment?

Hoshino: Including me, there are three people working in it right now, but at times the number increases for the last spurt. Since I moved to a trimestral magazine, I have some leeway with time, so my assistants stay at their homes and work from there with what I send them. The main advantage is that the commuting time can be used for working. Back when I was serialized weekly, I lived in the city center so my assistants had no transportation issues, but there is no need for that now that they’re working at home and for that I’m grateful. However, everything goes smoother if you are talking face to face. I do talk with my assistants through Skype, but a lot of the time they misunderstand me and everyone ends up frustrated and annoyed.

More in part 2

[alexabytes]

AMP For WordPress: Know Why It Might Be Important For You

As mobile phones are increasingly taking over how people consume material on the internet, it’s critical to make your web sites mobile-friendly.

Page load speed is an essential ranking indication according to Google, which is why every website owner attempts to reduce their page load time score by milliseconds. Optimizing page load speed on mobile devices, on the other hand, has proven to be a difficult task for everyone.

In February 2015, Google, the current standard for search engine optimization, launched the Accelerated Mobile Pages (AMP) project. The goal was to provide a set of guidelines for websites to follow in order to reduce page load time and thereby enhance the user experience on smartphones.

What is AMP?

Google’s AMP project is an open-source initiative that aids in the delivery of fast website content. AMP enhances content navigation on mobile devices in addition to increasing page load speed.

In a nutshell, AMP pages are stripped-down versions of web pages that keep all of the key content components when delivered. The syntax of AMP sites may differ from the standard HTML code of web pages, and it restricts the usage of JavaScript and CSS to decrease page size.

How Does AMP Work?

AMP simply replicates existing online information in a stripped-down HTML format.

Pages that are “converted” to AMP undergo a three-step transformation:

HTML – AMP converts standard HTML code into a slim, distinctive markup.

JavaScript — a resource fetching language that has been reduced down to remove non-essential rendering.

CDN – instantly caches websites and adjusts them to AMP.

AMP also reduces CSS requests and eliminates a lot of heavy graphics, backend code, and often CTAs.

The existing canonical version of the page will not be replaced by the AMP pages. Both versions will be available to readers.

Accelerated mobile pages Google have a special advantage. Google top stories include AMP- enabled websites. They provide the best possible version of the web pages.

AMP pages are suitable for content-focused pages that need further optimization for smartphone rendering. AMP shortens the time it takes for these sites to load on all devices.

You do, however, have the option of choosing from-

A responsive website for desktop, smartphone, and tablet users, as well as an AMP version for mobile search results on Google.

For desktops, there’s a website, and for mobiles, there’s an AMP version.

A mobile-friendly, desktop-friendly, and tablet-friendly website

It doesn’t matter if you don’t utilize AMP as long as your website is appropriately prepared for speed and uses Rich Snippets (where feasible). This eliminates the possibility of consumers being confused by several listings in the SERP.

The most common questions are

Should I get accelerated mobile pages for WordPress?

What if I want to implement AMP for my website?

So much confusion right?? We had it too. But the final conclusion for all the above questions, whether it’s required or not, is totally based on your website’s requirements and the needs of your users.

Here are some pros and cons of AMP which can let you decide if AMP is right for you or not. Let’s have a look together

Pros :

Accelerated mobile pages

AMP

helps pages to load faster.

Since mobile phones are a wide and common way to grab content on the web, it is necessary to optimize your web pages for mobile devices and AMP does the exact thing for your website.

It can get more traffic to your website because of the faster load of the pages.

AMP SEO also helps to enhance your Search engine ranking. Because of the faster load of ads on your website, users can get more engaged with it.

If you’re setting up the AMP for your website then your server can get reallocated to the desktop traffic most as mobile content of the AMP pages SEO will load from the Content Delivery Network (Google’s Server).

Here are the two most used plugin AMP :

AMP

AMP for WP – Accelerated mobile pages WP lets you set the AMP and speeds up the mobile pages.

But wait, every good thing comes up with cons or we can say limitations.

Cons:The main limitation of AMP is: loss of control over your mobile web pages

As AMP will create its own structure to minimize the HTML code, your custom CSS can’t be applied on those pages. You need to design AMP mobile pages separately. This means you need the extra resources/efforts to make the Accelerated mobile pages AMP look similar to the established aesthetics of your website.

As said above, AMP is separated from the mobile version of the page, additional tasks will be added up with AMP to manage the new addition of the product or frequent changes of content.

Some experts may say that it’s preferable to build the front end with highly optimized mobile pages rather than giving twisted efforts to the AMP.

For the accelerated mobile pages for wordpress, you need plugins extensions to match the aesthetics of your website. For example website’s default popup will not work on the AMP pages, we need to recreate this popup again. No doubt WordPress has many plugins which can do it by the sleeves but we need to give the twisted efforts for the single task.

Wrapping up

In the end, with these best accelerated mobile pages for wordpress, you can get many benefits for your site but you need to give extra effort by creating the AMP mobile pages. AMP is mostly a user experience enhancement.

People these days are extremely impatient, and even a fraction of a second in load time may have a huge influence on engagement metrics. Google is heavily involved in AMP’s promotion. They have a tonne of case studies with success stories in them. These are worth looking into, but keep in mind that Google is far from impartial.

To know more about AMP and other WordPress Development Services, hire the WordPress Developers of Bytes Technolab Inc. Originally Published at: https://www.bytestechnolab.com/blog/amp-for-wordpress-know-why-it-might-be-important-for-you/

[cathal-mathers98]

Re-defining my Prototype Stages/Reflection (Draft 2)

With regards to my prototype which I created in week 6 of IXD304, I made a last minute decision to re-design it, as I thought the overall design and layout of the project was quite weak and needed a good few adjustments to it. As well, as this, I mainly lost interest in the design and I believed I could create a better, more consistent style. This second draft of my prototype ( the one I am re-designing) was a combination of modern and Victorian style designs. It mainly had a more modern feel with the addition of a few Victorian style page borders. 

I believed this was a problem, because the overall app appeared to be random, as it didn’t know what style to follow. So, I wanted to correct that mistake by re-designing the prototype so it has an equal combination of both modern and Victorian styles. 

I even tried to change the layout and colours on this particular draft, but for me, no matter how many times I edited it, it still wasn’t appealing to me.

To see the process and story behind this first drafted prototype and the construction of it, click here to access the blog post.

Paper Sketches

Moving forward, with regards to my new prototype design, I first began by making wireframe sketches on the layout and the overall design. I already had the content sorted out anyway, so there was no need to include that in the sketches. The main purpose of this was to get an idea of how the app would appear to look on paper. We all know that some designs drawn on paper don’t turn out to be as accurate or as successful on the computer. I was already aware of this, so I had many pieces of paper available to me in case this happened. 

I already had in my possession, images, Victorian style page borders/ frames and wallpaper. So I knew what frame and design to use for each page. I was definitely more prepared this time than my first and second drafts. So, on these sketches I made a few points of information beside each element on the pages, to give myself and others looking at it an idea on what that section does and includes etc.. 

Anyway, these are the sketches I drew. The first page included:

Intro page

Content page

Life and Times page

Heroes page

And the second page:

Villains page

Silver Screen page

Measuring Mr. Holmes page

Once the sketching stage was complete, it was a matter of creating the designs digitally. I used the same application and same dimensions, while keeping some elements similar to the previous design.

Examples of Digital Prototype

Front Cover

For the front cover of the eBook, I decided to keep the layout and the text the same, because I liked the frame and how centred the text was. The only difference was the background colour and design. I had this image within my possession, I since obtaining it, I really liked it and thought it would look good as a from cover to a book.

Contents and Life and Times page

With the content page, I decided to completely change the layout and style of it. I thought the previous version was very crammed and overwhelming. For me a contents page has to be simple and straightforward to follow. For me, this one did a better job at it, than my old prototype. 

In addition, the Life and Times page has been completely revamped. I decided to put content in a two row column for this, as I wanted to follow a style and layout you would find in a Victorian book. I found examples of these in my research. In the end, I thought this was a better layout to follow, as I much preferred this than my the old version. 

Silver Screen and Measuring Mr. Holmes page

These pages again followed a similar style to the others, as I wanted to make the eBook consistent and easy to follow. For the background borders and images within the movie posters, I designed them in Illustrator, using the same Victorian image I used in the front cover. The reason for this was to help the image stand out from the text, make it look more professional and keep the design and eBook consistent.

With regards to the bar chart, I again created this in Illustrator using a Victorian style wallpaper as the background and an icon of Big Ben to help the chart stand out. This time I changed the topic from, “Sherlock Holmes top 10 short stories” to “The most common crimes committed in Sherlock Holmes”. I wanted to add more variety within the bar chart.

These are only examples/screen grabs of my prototype. Nevertheless, as you can see, throughout all these pages, I tried to keep an equal balance of both Victorian style and a modern style. For example, the page layout and frames are quite Victorian looking, but the text is Futura, which is quite modern compared to the Victorian era. The reason I chose Futura was because on the TV poster of Sherlock Holmes starring Benedict Cumberbatch, the small font used was Futura and the large one was a customised one designed for the show, which I am in possession with and have used it as the title to each page within the prototype. That was the main purpose. I wanted to combine the old Sherlock Holmes style with the new one, giving the eBook a unique look and feel to it.

In conclusion, I had a better time creating this prototype than the previous one, because I liked the overall design and layout. I think the old Victorian art and style is really nice if used properly. What I learnt from this project is that, research and preparation is key. More knowledge of certain styles can really aid you when it comes to designing it. If I was to do this project again and had more time, I would probably start designing my own templates and Victorian frames. Each of this frames looked very hard to be able to replicate, so it would require me to complete some master/apprentice tasks to get to that level. This was the thing I wish I learnt before doing the project. I will learn from these mistakes and improve on them for any future projects.

[lokifiction]

Relationship Status

It’s really no secret that the Avengers and Loki aren’t fans of each other, but when a seemingly invincible common enemy looms ahead, it is necessary that they learn to get along. However, it soon becomes quite clear that this will be no simple task.

Category: Fanfic

Rating: Teen

Notes: ...I know, it’s been forever since I’ve updated anything. I’m so sorry, guys. I feel absolutely terrible. My schedule is very busy, but for some reason this year it got away from me and days flew by without me even really realizing what was happening and this page kind of got put on the backburner. I’m really so sorry. I sincerely hope that this chapter makes up for the tardiness and that I do better in the future.

Warnings: None for this chapter.

Masterlist

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

Chapter Seventeen: The Test Run

“What do you think a better theme for the dinner party would be? ‘A Night out in Paris’ or mythology?”

Loki raised a brow at me from where he was chopping vegetables for our lunch, giving me a vision of domesticity that surprisingly suited him well. “Where did mythology come from?”

I shrugged, absentmindedly stroking Henry where he laid on the counter in front of me. “It’s springtime. Every year when that time comes around, I always delve into my Persephone aesthetic. Besides, I’m kind of craving Greek food.”

“Alright, then.” Loki nodded agreeably. “Go with mythology. I admire Hades and wouldn’t mind portraying him for a night.”

I squirmed on my stool, halfway laying on the countertop, staring at Loki sideways. “Yeah, but I feel like the Paris theme is more formal and appropriate. And French food is good, too.”

“Then do that one.” Loki reached for a sweet potato, not looking up from his perfectly even slices.

“I can’t decide!” I whined. “Tell me which one you would genuinely prefer.”

“Both sound equally as wonderful, or as wonderful as a night with the Avengers can be.”

“You’re no help.” I slumped out of my seat and came around the counter to embrace him from behind, burying my face between his shoulder blades. “Please tell me.”

“Well, actually, I had an idea for a theme, myself.” Loki put his knife aside and turned to face me, resting his clasped hands at the small of my back.

“Really?” I bounced in his arms. “Tell me!”

“How about ‘An Asgardian Feast’?” He smiled with a glimmer of pride in his eyes. “We could have Thor help us a bit, and give the Avengers a taste of the culture in Asgard so they understand us and our ways better.”

“Oh my god, Loki!” I squealed and reached up to kiss him in excitement. “That’s great! We have to do that one.”

“I’m glad you like it.” I may have been mistaken, but I thought I noticed a flush creep up on his cheeks. “It might be a bit difficult to procure all of the ingredients, and we may have to make some substitutions, but I already know of a few dishes that we could serve, as well as some ceremonial decorations we could make.”

“Oh, that’s genius!” I kissed him once more. “What would I do without you?”

“Your life certainly wouldn’t be as interesting, that’s for sure.” Loki playfully tapped my nose. I scrunched it in response and giggled before slithering out of his grasp and bounding towards the bedroom.

“Where are you going?” he called after me, opening his arms as if commanding me to run right back into them.

“I’ve got a wonderful idea for the invitations,” I replied over my shoulder. “I need to get it down on paper somewhere before I forget. What’s the proper Asgardian address format again?”

***

“I hope that the wardrobe guide I sent with the invitations didn’t seem rude or snobby or anything,” I fretted, securing the final braid of my traditional hairstyle. “I just wanted them to really experience the atmosphere, and dinner parties usually have some sort of dress code, so…”

“I’m sure you came off just fine. Stop worrying yourself sick.” Loki came up behind me, zipping my dress and placing a tender kiss on my shoulder. “Do you want to go take a last-minute look at the decor?”

I heaved a sigh that was a mix of anxiety and relief. “Yes, please.”

Before we made our way into the hallway, I paused in front of the mirror, straightening my skirt and checking my appearance for any fixable flaws. I had chosen to wear a golden evening gown with a wide halter neckline, and I accessorized with heavy gold jewelry, including arm cuffs and golden rings that Loki helped me braid into my hair. Altogether, my outfit was an Earthly version of what was commonly worn to banquets in Asgard, and Loki had donned a simpler version of his armor for the occasion.

In the wardrobe guide I sent with the invitations, I advised our guests to dress similarly, and to place emphasis on a lot of leather, metal, and flowing fabrics, and sent Thor out with the task of helping them achieve that. Praying that everyone wouldn’t just show up in suits and make me and Loki look like fools in our otherworldly garb, I made my way to the kitchen, the smell of what I considered to be home filling my nostrils.

It had taken nearly an entire day for me, Loki, and Thor to put together a menu that would reflect traditional cuisine on Asgard with foodstuffs found on Midgard, and another several hours running around New York to collect all of the supplies. The spiced wine mulling on the stove fragranced the whole house and gave it the feel of autumn despite the fact that it was the middle of April, and the pork we substituted for boar had my mouth watering. The menu also included an array of baked fruits, a pumpkin soup, an apple cake, along with numerous other things, and I was glad that our guests would have no idea if the recipes were accurate, so I only had to worry about the dishes being delicious.

After fiddling with some settings on the stove and putting a loaf of bread in the oven to be warmed, I followed Loki into the dining room to perfect the setup one last time. Again, our decor for the night was a task that required hours in our storage room and another full day of shopping to gather everything we needed.

Our house had many places to dine in, but Loki and I usually ate in the breakfast nook or at a small, intimate table next to a window in the sitting room. However, for the event we had utilized our largest dining room, which boasted a table that sat eighteen with plenty of room to spare. All around the walls we had hung golden draperies to give the illusion of the inside of the palace of Asgard, and a similarly colored fabric was draped over the dining table, for the Victorian-styled piece didn’t reflect the boxy furniture found on Asgard.

From directly above the table we had removed our usual chandelier and replaced it with an antique one from medieval times, that when purchasing we nearly gave the curator a heart attack when we told her we were actually planning to use it. Loki went to light its candles and I straightened the ornate bowls of fat, red grapes and gourds that made up the table decorations. It turned out that it was nearly impossible to find gourds in the middle of spring, so instead of adding that to the list of our wild goose chase shopping trip, Loki merely conjured some, and made them particularly beautiful, with swirling vines that draped all the way over the sides of the table and curled onto the floor.

“This dinner party has me in trouble,” I murmured as Loki passed me to light the candles that sectioned off the table. “It’s got me in such an autumn mood.”

“I’m feeling that effect, as well,” Loki agreed, admiring at our handiwork and wrapping his arm around my waist. “Though I’d hardly call it trouble. You know that if we had our wish, it would be perpetually autumn.”

“Just with slightly warmer temperatures for me,” I teased, brushing imaginary dust off of one of the napkins resting atop the plates in their engraved holders. “Loki, are you sure I arranged the place settings correctly?”

“They’re perfect,” he assured, kissing my temple before breezing to the other side of the room. “Stop fretting and come sit down for a bit before the guests arrive and you get all fluttery again. You’re going to exhaust yourself if you don’t.”

“Oh, alright.” I frowned in compliance, but still had to approach the table to push one last plate a millimeter more into place. We had originally planned on using our Thanksgiving china for the event to match the decor, but after remembering that we wanted to replicate an Asgardian feast and not have an autumn fest, Loki and I decided to go out hunting for new dishes for the night. After even more searching and a hefty sum, we had gold-colored china and brassy flatware, as close to what could be found on Asgard as possible. I took one last critical glance at our little portal to another world before joining Loki in the sitting room, where we barely settled down into chairs before the doorbell rang.

My stomach dropped as I jumped to my feet, dashing to the landing to let the guests in, but they turned out to only be Stellan and his two younger brothers, Luca and Teo. Since Stellan was the only one outside of my family briefed on Loki’s true identity, and since his family owned a high-class restaurant in town that all three brothers had worked for at one point or another, Loki and I figured that they would be the best candidates to come and be our waiters for the night.

“Hello, Camryn!” he greeted with a wide grin, bending down to hug me. “The place looks really spectacular.”

“Thanks, Stellan.” I patted his back and waved to Teo and Luca. “Thanks for doing this on your night off.”

“Oh, it’s my pleasure.” He reached down to pick up Bellatrix from where she was languidly rolling atop his shoes. “Bella and I go way back, so when I’m not waiting the table we can have some good catch-up time. And where’s Sir Henry?”

“He’s moping in our bedroom like he always does when we have company.” I rolled my eyes. “But if you guys’ll follow me to the guest bedroom, I have your outfits in there.”

On Asgard, servants typically wore arduous robes, but Loki and I made the express decision that even with the atmosphere we had created, the typical servant garb would look ridiculous. Instead, we procured sturdy brown pants and white tunics, along with some leather overlays that gave the effect we were aiming for.

As the boys were changing, the trio of lute players that we hired for the night arrived, and they set up in the corner of the dining room while I was briefing Stellan, Teo, and Luca on the dishes for the night and how to serve them. After one last meticulous sweep of the area of the penthouse we’d be entertaining in, Loki convinced me that there was nothing more that I could do, and urged me to sit next to him and wait for the first guests to arrive at last.

“Are you sure this dinner party is a good idea?” I worried, tugging at a hangnail with my teeth and shifting on the sofa.

“It’s a bit late to go back on that decision, isn’t it?” Loki replied with a raised brow, but rubbed my back reassuringly, tugging me closer to him and holding me tight to his side. “I’ll make sure everything is just fine,” he murmured against my temple.

When the doorbell rang, I sprang out of my seat once more, but Loki jumped in front of me before I could make another move, putting his hands on my shoulders and staring deeply into my eyes as he always did when he wanted to calm me.

“I’ll get it,” he insisted, squeezing my arms gently. “It’s likely just Thor. He’s coming early, remember?”

I nodded, letting out a breath and merely trailing along behind as Loki went to let his brother in. Thor arrived dressed in a simpler version of his ceremonial armor, much like Loki was, and bore a bottle of mead for the party.

“Don’t tell me this is one of the bottles you took from Asgard’s royal stores before you came to live on Earth,” Loki declared, popping the top off and peering inside.

“It is, and I only have three of them left, excluding that one.” Thor snatched the mead back. “This party had better be good, if I’m going to be giving up one of my precious remaining bottles of the finest Asgardian mead ever tasted.”

“Hey!” I protested, coming around from behind Loki and giving Thor a playful shove that, of course, didn’t even cause him to bobble in the slightest. “Are you doubting my skills?’

“Absolutely not, Camryn. I’m merely making a jest between brothers.” Thor patted my shoulder. “If I didn’t have faith that your party would be wonderful, I wouldn’t have brought the mead in the first place. The little I’ve seen of your show for tonight is fantastic, and I can’t wait to see more.”

“Thank you for saying so, but don’t scare me like that!” I reprimanded. “I’m stressed enough as it is.”

“My deepest apologies.” Thor cradled the mead like a baby. “Where might I put this? And where are the cats?”

“I’m throwing what might be the best dinner party of my life and all anyone cares about is the cats. I would scold you, but I relate.” I nodded my head towards the hall. “I’ll take you to put the drink in the kitchen. Stellan’s in there, so at least Bellatrix should be in there, too. You’ll have a contender for her attention tonight.”

“A most honorable challenge that I humbly accept,” Thor played along, bowing his head nobly.

Once Thor dropped his mead off and got his desired greeting from Bellatrix, I sent Teo off to answer the door and had Luca follow us into the sitting room with a tray of drinks, waiting yet again for the rest of the guests to arrive.

“Thor, they are coming, right?” I inquired, bouncing my leg up and down.

“They are, and I promise they’re not planning any tricks,” he assured, selecting a goblet of wine. “Relax.”

Loki rose from the couch and approached Luca, taking a glass and passing it to me.

“Everything will be fine, love,” he assured. “Besides, is anyone but the three of us going to be able to judge the accuracy of the night?”

“It’s not the accuracy I’m worried about,” I muttered into my glass, but took a sip and pretended to be pacified, sitting back and waiting for whomever our first true arrival would turn out be.

It ended up being Steve, who knocked on the front door at the exact arrival time listed on the invitation. Teo showed him into the sitting room, and Loki and I rose to greet him.

“Thank you so much for coming.” I gave him a slightly awkward hug and Loki shook his hand stiffly. “Why don’t you take a seat, and have some wine?”

“There’s no need to be so formal,” Steve assured with a chuckle, but obeyed my instructions nonetheless. “Your penthouse is amazing. Does it always look like this?”

“In the autumn,” I replied. “The current decor is special for tonight’s event, to really give the illusion of being on Asgard.”

“I see. Well, it’s really nice.” Steve took another once-over of the room, sliding his hands into his pockets. “I feel a bit underdressed, though. Thor and Loki are in their armor and you’re in that dress...The wardrobe guide you sent mentioned leather and neutral colors…”

“What you’re wearing is perfect,” I assured, appraising his dark brown pants and beige button-down, trying my hardest to resist the possessive embrace Loki pulled me into as Steve’s eyes passed over me.

“I’m glad.” Steve glanced at the clock on the wall. “Banner was right behind me, so he should be here soon.”

The words had barely left his mouth when the doorbell rang, and Teo entered the sitting room with Bruce in tow, along with Natasha and Clint. Luca served them their drinks and, seeing as most of our guests had arrived, I sent him into the kitchen to fetch the hors d'oeuvres.

“Clint and I were already going to carpool, and we met Bruce in the lobby,” Natasha explained before I could ask how the three of them ended up arriving together, plopping down on the sofa with her drink and straightening her beige gown. “You’ve got a really gorgeous place.”

“Thank you. That seems to be the general consensus tonight.” I fidgeted awkwardly, wishing I could sit but not wanting to do so with guests around. “Did you all make it here alright?”

“It’s a really easy ride from Stark Tower,” Bruce replied. He had dressed in a plain suit, though it was brown. “There’s a Metro stop less than a block away from here.”

“If you guys are all staying at the Tower, why didn’t you all come together?” I asked, noting the staggered arrival times and methods of our guests.

“Well, we knew Thor was coming early to help get things ready,” Natasha began. “Steve was the only one that left at a normal time. Bruce wanted to stay back to finish something in the lab, and Clint and I came straight from a mission.”

“Oh my god!” I exclaimed. “If you had to work tonight, you didn’t have to come.”

“Don’t be silly.” Natasha smiled warmly and took a sip from her glass. “We wanted to.”

“I’m glad we all did, because whatever’s cooking smells delicious,” Thor remarked. “When are we going to eat?”

“We have to wait until everyone gets here,” Loki spoke up with suppressed annoyance. “Does anyone have any idea where Stark is?”

“He left around noon to oversee some construction upstate,” Bruce replied, taking a bite from his smoked salmon crouton. “He should be back by now.”

“Oh, really?” Something bumped the back of my knees and I glanced behind me to realize that Loki had pulled up a chair for me. I settled into it and took my own crouton from Luca, and held Loki’s hand where it rested on my shoulder. “What kind of construction?”

Bruce exchanged a look with Steve.

“I don���t know the clearance level for that info,” Bruce explained, brow furrowed in apology.

“Oh, Norns.” Even though Loki was behind me, I could clearly sense his eyeroll. “More about those damned clearance levels.”

“Be nice.” I patted his hand. “You have clearance levels for your important dealings on Asgard, even if they aren’t necessarily mapped out.”

“Perhaps, but I’m accustomed to being the one at the top of those unsaid levels,” Loki rebutted.

Steve cleared his throat to catch our attention and spoke up, answering Bruce’s question. “They’re consultants and will find out about it eventually, so we might as well tell them now.”

“Are you building a Death Star?” I cocked an eyebrow, and Natasha leaned across where Clint sat next to her on the couch to reach Steve.

“The Death Star is from-”

“Star Wars, I know,” Steve interrupted with a playful eye roll. “I watched them last week.”

“Just looking out for ya, buddy.” Natasha patted his arm and sank back into her cushion.

“Anyway,” Steve continued, “we’re building a new Avengers home base upstate. We’ve sort of taken over Stark Tower, even though it’s still the functioning headquarters of Stark Industries, and the location in the middle of the city, while central to a lot of action, is leaving us exposed and vulnerable, with little space to grow.

“Around the new facility, there’s hardly any civilization for miles, and the land we purchased leaves seemingly endless room for expansion. We won’t have to coordinate space and scheduling with the Avengers team and the Stark Industries team, the environment will seem a bit more homey, and some of our new members will be better protected and contained from society there.”

“Well, that sounds interesting,” I replied. “I’d love to see it someday. If it’s out in the forest like that, I bet it’s beautiful.”

“It’s quite, as the mortals say, aesthetically pleasing,” Thor put in. “I feel very calmed inside the building.”

“And I’m sure you all need that, with all the high-stress work you do,” I said. “You should get Tony to put in a spa.”

Natasha laughed aloud. “That would be the best.”

Loki cleared his throat, reminding us all of his point. “But his business should be finished, correct? It was possible for him to be on time?”

“It should have been, yes,” Bruce replied.

“Well, where is he?”

“The fun is here!” As if on cue, Tony Stark burst into the room with an irritated Pepper on his arm.

“I’m sorry,” she lamented, rolling her eyes. “I couldn’t get him here any sooner.”

“I had to make sure I was at my best for this royal soiree.” Tony pointed to the tray Luca carried. “Is that salmon? Lovely.”

“Was there trouble on your way over here, Mr. Stark?” Loki asked, his voice dangerously cordial. Tardiness was not something he dealt with well.

“No, not at all. Traffic was great, weather was great. Everything was great.” Tony went for some wine and Pepper sighed heavily, covering her reddening face with her hand.

“Then why, might I ask, are you arriving so far past the time listed on your invitation?” Loki’s voice was a mere note away from being a growl. I reached for his hand to calm him.

“Well, you know how I like to make an entrance, and I wanted to make sure I looked impeccable, and worthy of what Camryn listed on that charming wardrobe guide,” Stark replied, gesturing to his outfit straight out of Game of Thrones.

“I’m amazed you took it that seriously.” I took a closer look at his attire, marveling at the fine craftsmanship. “Did you have that made?” “Sure did.” Stark patted his chest proudly. “I wanted to make something matching for Pepper, but she said it was too much.”

I noted Pepper’s stunning rust-colored evening gown.

“You both look amazing. Everyone here does, and I’m so thrilled that you’re all embracing the theme.” I rose from my seat and gestured towards the door. “I’m sure you’re all hungry. Since everyone’s arrived, should we proceed onto dinner?”

The group erupted into murmurs of excitement and began to file towards the dining room, but Loki gently held me towards the back of the herd and bent down to whisper in my ear once we were alone.

“I know our alliance is budding, but I’m absolutely infuriated at Stark’s behavior,” he ranted.

“I know you are.” I rubbed his arm. “But this is supposed to be a test run for the wedding, remember? We need to practice being civil even if something bothers us.”

“I understand, love.” He kissed the top of my head gently but insistently. “But if he tries to ‘make an entrance’ like that at our wedding, I’ll kill him.”

“Oh, believe me.” I took Loki’s hand and pulled him towards the dining room. “If he does that at our wedding, I’ll get to him first.”

When we entered the warm, candlelit dining room, I checked that every guest had found their place card and motioned for the musicians in the corner to begin playing. Luca passed out fresh goblets and Stellan entered with the first course as Loki and I made for the opposite heads of the table to deliver the toast.

“The music is a very nice touch,” Natasha praised, raising her glass in my direction. “I like it.”

“I’m glad you do,” I replied, then cleared my throat to address the room. “Welcome, everyone. I’m so honored that you’ve taken time out of your busy and important schedules to attend this party. Now, I know I’m usually the bridge between you and Loki, but tonight is another effort to make it so that a bridge is no longer needed. So, since our party is to replicate a traditional feast on Asgard, and he’s the one that actually grew up there, I’ll turn the floor over to him.”

Loki locked eyes with me and nodded once, clearing his throat before speaking, effortlessly capturing everyone’s undivided attention.

“Feasts are incredibly common on Asgard. To me and Thor, the spread before you seems an ordinary morning, midday, or evening meal. However, since this is a special event, I wanted to have a special banquet.

“There are many reasons for special feasts to be held on Asgard. A holiday, the returning of soldiers from war, a funeral, et cetera, but I decided that Camryn and I should host a dinner party best compared to a peacemaking or ambassador banquet, for often a major point of those dinners is to show off the culture of Asgard. That was the goal of the theme for tonight, and since every meeting between me and the Aveners is a peacemaking mission, I figured that no feast template could be better.”

Loki gestured to the corner where Stellan stood in his costume, now flanked by Teo and Luca.

“That young man over there is Stellan, and I’m sure you recognize Teo and Luca from earlier this evening. They will be serving you tonight. Now, I’m sure you’re all hungry, and the food smells incredible, so I will move right along with this introduction. Banquets such as this are almost always opened with a prayer to our gods, which is as good of a representation of Asgardian culture as anything, so I’ll get on with that.”

“Excuse me.” Steve politely raised his hand, ducking his chin sheepishly. “I thought you and Thor were the gods. What gods are gods supposed to pray to?”

“Excellent question, Steve,” Pepper interjected. “I was wondering that myself.”

“We pray to our ancestors in Valhalla,” Loki replied, a slight smile creeping onto his lips. “Even divine beings need guidance sometimes.”

“As for whom we pray to once we get to Valhalla, we have no idea,” Thor put in. “And we’re not sure we’d like to know.”

“The speculations we made when we were children only frightened us,” Loki added with a conservative grin. “Now, I typically pray to my mother, so it’s been awhile since I’ve recited a formal prayer like this, so forgive me if I make any mistakes.”

I bowed my head obediently, and I was happy to see that everyone else in the room did, too. I was a bit shocked that Loki revealed such a personal tidbit as coping with Frigga’s death to the room full of people, but I was glad to see him opening up.

Despite his warning, however, he recited the prayer perfectly as I knew he would. He didn’t pray in the traditional sense very often, but I loved it when he did, for the words spilled out of his mouth like beautiful poetry. His voice became melodic, and he often came closer to singing prayers rather than speaking them. I was completely hypnotized by the time he finished and continued the toast.

“Now,” he resumed in his normal cadence, “Asgardians are typically very bawdy and love their food, so the toast is kept short. To peace and friendship. May we make it and may it last.”

“To peace and friendship,” the room echoed, and as everyone drank from their glasses and took their seats, I got the feeling that, for the first time,everyone truly meant it.

***

Once the last course was cleared away and I felt incredibly bloated in the best way, I tapped on my glass with my knife to bring everyone’s attention. The sound wasn’t entirely necessary, for the conversation of the evening had been wonderful and typically involved everyone present at the party, but the action was something I had always wanted to do. Once Loki finished explaining the differences and similarities of Viking culture and that on Asgard and everyone’s eyes turned to me, I began my short speech of the night.

“Asgardian feasts are hardly ever just feasts,” I began. “As Loki said before, Asgardians are quite bawdy, and have a lot of energy, especially after being filled with wine. Feasts are typically affairs that last well into the early hours of the morning. Once the main meal is finished, there’s often dancing and singing and merrymaking, and a lot of the younger citizens will branch out to different taverns once the older attendees have retired. We, unfortunately, did not prepare for raucous activity, but to replicate the ever-changing scenery of an Asgardian banquet, we’ve decided to serve dessert and some of Thor’s Asgardian mead on the terrace.”

“He brought that stuff?” Stark gasped, dropping his hands onto the table, already a bit inebriated from the wine served with the meal. “Sign me up. Let’s go.”

With a giggle, I took my wrap from Loki and laid my head on his shoulder, leading the way out into the slightly chilly night air and onto the terrace that we had decorated just like we had the dining room, and lit with strands of fairy lights. Just like the New Year’s Eve party what seemed like an eternity ago, I felt like I had grown incredibly close to the people around me, and felt an enormous sense of kinship with them. I was sure that, like at the party, the effect was somewhat heightened by drink, but I felt that the new feeling was one that would stick around much longer.

The group gathered into seats around the fire as Thor distributed the drinks and Stellan passed out pieces of apple cake, and the conversation, which had been mainly centered around questions about Asgard, had no trouble picking up again.

“So, Loki,” Steve began, “you said that when boar is served at feasts, it’s usually been hunted and killed that day?”

“Yes,” Loki replied. “There’s no taste like freshly butchered boar, and unless there’s a siege in place, the royal family doesn’t eat boar unless it’s been killed that day.”

“Being royalty sounds like it’s worth it.” Natasha raised her eyebrows. “Thanks for explaining the whole boat symbolism thing, by the way. I never really understood it.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Loki smiled kindly, the mead making him a bit looser with his charms.

“This actually isn’t meant to be rude for once in my life,” Stark interjected, taking a bite of cake, “but do your horns symbolize anything?”

Loki actually laughed at that, and went on to explain without a complaint. After a long-winded speech about symbolism on Asgard that everyone’s drunkenness had turned into a stream of jokes by the end, Stark piped up again.

“I know it’s the drink that’s making me say this, but I think it’s important to be said.” He inhaled sharply. “Loki, after talking with and getting to know you tonight, I’ve decided that you’re not a bad guy. You’re different, for sure, but you’re not bad. You’re actually pretty awesome when you’re not trying to take over the world. I figured that you’d have to be to get a girl like Camryn, but now I really see it.”

“Thank you, Stark.” Loki squeezed my hand, and a small but genuine smile spread across his face. “Tonight, after getting to know you outside of the context of work, I’ve learned that you’re actually quite more brilliant and creative than I originally thought you to be. I may actually grow to enjoy your company, and dare I say, admire you.”

Stark put a hand to his chest, his next joke holding the tone of truth. “I’m so very honored.”

“I’d like to say something, as well.” Clint, who was usually so quiet but had become quite chatty and a jokester over the course of the night, stood from his chair. “Loki, I still don’t trust you. But if all of the people here that I trust with my life are growing to, I respect their decision. I feel that you’re deserving of it, and I think that someday I may come around on you.”

“Thank you, Clint,” I whispered as he returned to his seat, and for a few moments the only sound was the crackling of the fire as everyone processed the words that had just been exchanged, which bore the best kind of weight.

“It’s pretty late,” Bruce eventually said, voice cracking from the awkward breaking of the silence, “and I’ve had a lot to drink. I think I should go and make sure I can get a cab.”

“Wait,” I called out as he made for the door, then looked to Loki, silently asking for approval for what I was about to do. “Why don’t you...stay here?”

Bruce furrowed his brow. “Sorry?”

“Why don’t you all stay here for tonight?” I suggested shyly. “God knows we have enough room for all of you. I’m in the theatre tomorrow night, so I don’t have to go into work until later. We could make sort of a grownup sleepover out of it, and then go for brunch in the morning.”

Pepper cracked a grin. “That sounds like fun. Let’s do it.”

After everyone’s agreement, Loki and I dismissed Stellan, Teo, and Luca, and left Thor to entertain the group while we went to make sleeping arrangements for everybody.

“So, how about it?” I asked nervously as we stood in front of the linen closet, loading my arms with sheets, still in a bit of disbelief over what I had just done.

“You know, I’m actually feeling alright about it,” Loki replied, his bright eyes gleaming. “I’m still not too fond of the Avengers, but I think I might actually like them as individuals. I’m sure that, like at the New Year’s party, some of these feelings and progress are due to drink and will regress in the morning, I feel like they won’t regress as much as they did last time.”

“I’m so glad.” I dropped the sheets in my hands and hugged him instead, burying my face in his shoulder, breathing in his scent of leather and sandalwood and snow. “I feel like so much important progress has been made,  too. I’m so proud of you.”

Loki pulled me closer, resting his cheek on top of my head. “I don’t think it will be a problem to have them at our wedding, now.”

“Absolutely,” I agreed. “We won’t have to worry about any fights breaking out or any trouble being caused. We can focus on nothing but each other, just as it should be.”

“That is, if your extended family can behave,” Loki teased.

“Hey, one thing at a time,” I quipped. “My family doesn’t have access to the arsenal that the Avengers do, so the Avengers took priority in terms of peacemaking.”

“But now that problem is solved.” Loki hooked his finger under my chin and tilted it up towards him. “And I’m glad for it. Truly. For the first time in our engagement, I can be completely excited about everything that’s to come with no worries about anything else. And it’s the most wonderful feeling in all the realms.”

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