#like see what info you can glean from the first word or two of each line

[sexynetra]

i hope it isn't rude to ask (i just really love your work) but would we be getting a rawnsyf chapter 8

Not rude at all!! I am slowly plugging away at chapter 8 it will absolutely be coming I refuse to abandon a work fully 😂

[greaseonmymouth]

As you've asked for asks!:

Do you have any quick-and-dirty book/fic binding methods a terrified-of-failure novice could use to bang something out to get over the first collywobbling step of Actually Doing The Thing? (this may be something I've been meaning to ask for ages)

yes! I absolutely do! in my opinion the best quick-and-dirty bookbinding method is a no-glue pamphlet: you don't have to mess with glue or measuring or cutting anything, all you need is your text, some paper, a needle and thread. you can use the same needle to punch holes if you don't have an awl.

this is going to be a little long but that's because I'm going to write out some fairly detailed instructions for an A5 sized pamphlet. If you don't want detailed instructions and think you can glean the necessary info from photos, just skip to the photos! I've also linked tutorials.

for preparing the text to printing, in whatever software you use (word, libreoffice, gdocs, whatever) make sure your document is set to page size A5. make it look readable. then save as/export that document as a straight-paged PDF. now go to the bookbinder JS tool (https://momijizukamori.github.io/bookbinder-js/), and upload the PDF. source manipulation: none printer paper size: A4 display unit (you can ignore, or choose cm if it gives you anxiety that it automatically displays points) printer type: select single-sided or duplex accordingly* rotate paper: ignore flip on long side: check if you are printing duplex and if your duplex printer flips the paper on the long side page layout:  tick folio page scaling: original page positioning: centered ignore the rest flyfleaf: ignore signature format tick: standard signatures. in the length drop down, this depends on the type of pamphlet you are doing. for folio i generally find 4-5 pages per signature a comfortable thickness. if you have 6 whole A4 pages you can still do that as a single signature or you can split it into two signatures 3 pages each. wacky small layouts: ignore this signature info click the generate preview button to see what your PDF looks like imposed! I love this step especially when I'm doing quarto (A6) or octavo (A7) sized books generate output - click this to generate an imposed PDF

for A6 and A7 sized books the instructions are much the same, except for these you make sure the page size is A6 or A7 in your software, and then you choose quarto or octavo instead of folio. for signature length drop down I keep signature length to 1 for octavos typically and 2 for quartos, as this still refers to sheets of paper, and for octavo 1 sheet of A4 paper will turn into 4 smaller sheets in one signature once folded and cut.

*if you don't have a duplex printer you will have to manually turn the paper to print on the other side. I cannot be arsed with this so I bought a printer capable of duplex printing (I didn't have a printer anyway). if you already have a printer check what it can do as you might be surprised and go from there.

now to the pamphlets! you don't need a cover - I have one for the long stitch pamphlet but for the saddle stitch one I didn't bother and just made sure the first page had a title on it. you can always take a different piece of paper and print a cover on or or just use coloured cardstock and create a simple cover, but a cover is not necessary unless you're doing a long stitch pamphlet. all you need to do is to punch holes and start sewing. there are a few different stitch types below, I wouldn't say any of them are more difficult or easier than others, but they do look different so...pick one you like the look of and go from there?

pamphlet stitch (uneven number of holes) I haven't ever done a pamphlet stitch but here's a tutorial for how to do it: https://www.starpointestudio.com/simple-pamphlet-stitch-book-step-by-step/

saddle stitch (uneven number of holes) I realised that what I was thinking of as a pamphlet stitch is actually saddle stitch, as in this A7 pamphlet:

here's a tutorial for how to sew saddle stitch: https://www.bookbindingworkshopsg.com/saddle-stitch-bookbinding-tutorial/ here's a video tutorial: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aWHkY5jOoqM (sealemon has a lot of bookbinding tutorials and I know many people who like her videos, I used her tutorial for coptic binding way back when I first made a book but I can't otherwise vouch for the quality as I haven't used her videos)

french link stitch (even number of holes) in this one I used french link stitch which I typically use for thicker textblocks that i'm not planning to use tapes with as the french link gives it some robustness, I used it here because I had never done it before and wanted to try it out. I am planning to take these stitches out and re-sew this pamphlet with a cover now that I've found a suitable piece of transformer fanart to use as a cover:

french link tutorial. it's quite long but it has a colour coded bit towards the end that shows how the thread is supposed to link which i find very helpful to visualise: https://www.handmadebooksandjournals.com/bindings/french-link-stitch-binding/

here's a video tutoral from DAS bookbinding (he is my go to for techniques and he has the most soothing Australian accent as well, though fair warning not all of his videos are for beginners): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O4ZPdbaM-Ws

long stitch (even number of holes) for this one I used long stitch and I had a cover. this one is my favourite variation because I can make these pretty and simple covers and the stitch looks nice on the outside as well, so this one scratches the 'i want to make a book' itch for me.

here's a tutorial that also includes a how to on a cover that is different from my cover: https://lccprintmaking.myblog.arts.ac.uk/files/2020/06/Long-Stitch-Tutorial-A4.pdf DAS also has a video tutorial for long stitch but it's like three videos long, maybe watch it later :'D  here's one I haven't watched but seems decent: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XnignTL_wDQ

you can use saddle stitch for this kind of pamphlet as well, that's what I did for dozens of ships and hundreds of souls (https://ashmouthbooks.tumblr.com/post/681587080267202560).

I hope this helped!!

[twdmusicboxmystery]

TWB’s Coda and the Big TTD Announcement

I’ll talk about the coda first, and then what was said on TTD.

Crazy coda at the end of TWB

At first, it was really confusing to watch. Part of the problem is that there were two sets of subtitles going on at the same time, and I had a hard time following either one. They obviously had to put subtitles on for the French conversation, because this is an English show. But I usually have the English subtitles as well, because I do better when I can “see” the dialogue as well as hear it.

So, the subtitles for the French conversation and those for what Dr. Jenner was saying on the tape were on top of each other, lol. I had to go back, take off the English subtitles, and watch the French conversation, and then watch again ignoring the French conversation to get everything Jenner said. I’m going to transcribe both conversations for you below. Because it’s very important you understand everything that’s being said. The fact that they had Jenner’s recording running while the French conversation was going on, and that we could hear both equally, means they wanted us to hear and understand both.

So, here’s a recap of what happens:

A woman shows up at a ruined facility and starts downloading info from hard drives. I noticed right away the computers were in French, which I thought was weird. However, in season 1 of TWD, Jenner did say that the French were one of the last people he was in contact with, who were still working on the virus, before everything went dark. This is definitely a callback to that seed they planted 11 years (!!!) ago.

Then the woman opens one of the files and it’s Dr. Jenner. It’s some of his recorded tapes that we saw in S1.

Another man comes in behind her and starts talking to her. They talk briefly (I’ll analyze that below) and then the man shoots the woman in the head. He then quickly turns and exits the room, shutting the door behind him. After a few seconds, the woman reanimates as a walker. And she turns, walks REALLY quickly to the door (almost runs) and starts screeching and pounding on it.

Now, she’s clearly a walker, but this is really aggressive behavior for a walker. We haven’t seen them do this before. Almost concurrent with this, Jenner mentions “variants.” Like there are walker virus variants in other countries that aren’t in the states, and they’ll be able to explore them eventually. But these are super-scary, aggressive walkers. They aren’t slowing down or stumbling around like the ones we see in regular TWD.

Something else before I get into the transcription: I noticed something written on the wall in French. I took French in high school but am by no means fluent. I thought it just said, "The dead are here." But then I googled the translation. The words are actually “Les morts sont nes ici.” It means "the dead were born here."

So, this is the facility where the virus was manufactured and let loose, basically. And I really do think we're supposed to glean that this was originally a CRM facility. For one thing, the name TB Ellis appears on the hard drives the woman is copying.

We also see a weird little globe thing at first. I think it's just a paperweight or something. I wasn't sure what the significance was, but I'm wondering if it's meant to tie to the big globe we saw in TWB. It's a symbol of the CRM and being the "last light of the world" and all that.

Remember that we also saw a world map behind Eugene in S6, during a sequence we believe heavily foreshadows his role in running into Beth.

Okay, so here’s the convo between the two French people. We aren’t given names for them, so M = man and F = woman.

M: Are you one of the doctors?

F: Yes

M: You’ve been running, hiding, all this time?

F: Yes.

M: Are you a member of the Primrose team?

F: No. Violet.

M: Where is the Primrose team? Where did they go?

F: They weren’t here when it happened. When you all did what you did. They were at a conference in Toledo.

M: Spain?

F: Ohio. America. I hoped against hope that they…were here. That somehow, they came back… And that they were still working. And that they were close.

M: Why would you come back?

F: I was tired of running. And I had that hope against hope. And I had to try. If they were to return here to their work, they might end all of this, even after all this time.

M: They should be dead. If they aren’t, and they somehow come back like you, we won’t jail them like all the others. We’ll kill them. End this? You started this. All the teams. Then, you made it worse.

*shoots her*

 (Right after that, Jenner mentions “variant cohorts” on the tape, so I’m sure the behavior we see from the woman as a walker is meant to be a result of one of those variants. It lines up too perfectly to mean anything else.)

Now, my fellow theorists and I had LOTS of conversations about all of this. I’m not going not give them all to you because it would go on for pages and pages. But here are some highlights:

We’re not sure if this is meant to be France, or some other French speaking country like Belgium or Canada. If anyone sees any clues that would tell us, let us know.

 Toledo is one of the places we saw on the sign in regular TWD near the bridge work site in S9. That can’t be a coincidence, given that it led directly to Rick being taken into the CRM, and Toledo is obviously a part of the whole virus/CRM story.

 The names for the different groups, Violet and Primrose, are definitely thematic. Early in S4, we saw Violet the pig, who got sick with the bleeding eye disease and died. So something about Violet is always associated with sickness. The primrose is not the same thing as a rose, but it actually looks a lot like the Cherokee Rose, and all three could mean the same thing symbolically. Remember that Alden sang a song at a funeral about the Last Rose of Summer. And @wdway found this picture from 5x09 of Summer Place and a rose beside it. So, the common theme I’m seeing here is disappearance. The story Daryl told in S2 about the Cherokee Rose. We saw it again in 6x06, in the plot because of Tina, but that episode was just dripping with Beth symbolism. And then there’s the funeral with Alden. And of course around Beth herself in 5x09, which I have analyzed to the rafters as being a foreshadow of her disappearing, but reappearing in the CRM story line.

Okay, those are the big things, though there’s tons more to consider if you feel so inclined.

Here is what Jenner says, interspersed with some notes from me:

Jenner:

“The problem, as I see it, is that the samples we have simply aren’t fresh. There’s just too many variables involved in how the clock affects them and even after a few minutes, we can’t get an accurate picture of the biology involved.”

 Just a quick note. This may explain why the CRM experiments on the living. Someone who is already dead and turned, and has been for some time, doesn’t give them the data they need. Which is pretty much what Lila told Hope and Iris in a round about way.

I didn’t get all of the next part. Jenner just says something about how they’ll have fresh samples soon. It’s inevitable. I don’t think he means it in a sinister way. Just that people are sure to die. Then he says, in happier news,

“Cardiac plaques as a host medium for steroidal therapies to jumpstart the circulatory system in the hope of short circuiting the brain, or perhaps regaining function to cause nerve confusion, is a fascinating approach and we are all anxiously awaiting anything that comes back from your first trial.”

 Okay, I have a background in science and anatomy, and I’m still not entirely sure what this means. Cardiac plaque is the stuff that clogs your arteries and causes heart attacks. So, it sounds like they’re using that tissue to test steroid based treatments. Overall, I don’t know how any of what he says would manifest, but it just sounds like they’re trying to short circuit the walkers. The fact that they wanted us to hear this probably means it will appear in the plot at some point.

“We all have to work together here. Solidarity, right? Fact of the matter is, we only have so many supplies left. We aren’t getting anymore, so everything counts that much more. Every test. Every collection. I almost broke a petri dish yesterday. And almost put my fist through a wall. The other Dr. Jenner stopped me.”

 He makes several references to “the other Dr. Jenner,” who I’m assuming is his wife, who will later become Test Subject 19. So, we can surmise this video was recorded before she died. I don’t remember if Jenner told Rick how long it had been since his wife died, but this was probably weeks or months before Rick and his group arrived at the CDC.

“The infirmary is closed. Sealed, actually. We’ve been venturing out for the basics. The other Dr. Jenner has gotten pretty darn good at it. But getting back to the data—the idea of activating systems to work against reanimation is a promising idea. But, as we’ve discussed, the systems themselves have to be studied to see exactly how they’re working or not working. For example, can we build up acids in bodies that don’t have blood flow? Of course, that gets right back into that idea of jumpstarting circulatory systems. We need to do two things simultaneously—observe and attack this thing.

I want to know more about these variant cohorts you referred to in our last communication. We haven’t seen anything like that here at all. Nothing close. I hope this finds you as well as you can be. I hope you won’t lose faith. The day will come when we are going to beat this thing. At least, what’s what the other Dr. Jenner keeps telling me. As you know, she’s smarter than me. Solidarite. (Solidarity.) A bientot. (Goodbye).”

Here is some research from some of my buddies about this as well:

@galadrieljones:

Oh also, I looked up something last night based on the transcript from Jenner's video. Something about using arterial plaque as a medium for interfering with reanimation. Arterial plaque causes clogged arteries, which can lead to heart disease. Heparin is a commonly used drug for preventing blood clots, which can lead to heart attacks. (Beth had a heparin drip when she woke up at Grady.) I feel there may be a connection there. They are trying to set something up there. But all it's doing is just making me more curious about why Beth was on a heparin drip for a "fractured wrist" and basically a concussion.

@frangipanilove:

Oh, something I meant to comment on earlier when we discussed the scene when Barca was taken away in TWB s1.  Elizabeth put out a glass of aspirin, which is also a blood thinner (among other things). Whatever the aspirin glass ultimately stands for, I do believe it’s tied to the heparin from Slabtown. Also, heparin was originally made from dog liver cells, so I always wondered if that counts as a dog/Sirius reference.

I could have sworn that we’ve had dialogue with the mention of steroids on the show, but I can’t for the life of me think of when or where. It was probably just a quick mention in passing, but yeah. I know I have theorized over it at some point. Will continue to think about it though.

@galadrieljones:

Okay I'm about to go down a wacky rabbit hole on the heparin/steroidal treatment thing, so please bear with me lol:

Frangi, you bringing up aspirin is a great catch. We're supposed to be looking at the heart, and the blood. For so long, everyone has been super preoccupied with the brain and its function in reanimation, but perhaps the key to solving the mystery may actually lie in the heart (that would be poetic, wouldn't it?).

Whatever they were doing to the test subjects at the CRM, they also were administering heparin, just like they were at Grady. Lyla administered heparin to Barca just before killing him with the modified chlorine gas. Her ultimate goal is unclear; however, we know via her conversation with Jadis that the time between death and the turn is important. She's trying to maximize it as much as possible, and eight hours seems to be the max they've gotten so far. There's something special about this time, something they must be trying to observe between death and reanimation, and part of Lyla's job is to max out that time frame. So, this is why she needs living test subjects.

It's definitely possible they were doing the same sort of experiment at Grady. I went back to your transcript from 2.10 (SUPER HELPFUL BTW), and in his video, Jenner talks about the methodology of what they're working on in France, but he talks about it a bit out of order, so it's sort of confusing. He mentions how there's a lot of "promise" to the idea of "circulating" some sort of "steroidal therapies" through the walkers as a way of "short circuiting" their brains or causing "nerve confusion." But this is a problem, as walkers don't have blood flow. So he asks, "can you circulate acids through bodies that don't have blood flow?" He says that this brings them right back to the idea of "jump-starting" the circulatory system, ie: jumpstarting blood flow. They need blood flow in order to circulate any sort of "therapies."

Jenner says then that they need to do two things simultaneously: they need to "observe" what's going on in the human body's various "systems" while they're in reanimation, but they also need to attack whatever is causing reanimation. But it seems they cannot attack it until they know how the various systems work. Hence, they need to study what's going on in the human body, not just in the brain. Everywhere. Hence: Lyla's task in trying to maximize the time between "death" and reanimation. IT's completely possible that there are other scientists elsewhere working on other parts of Project V.

I did some rudimentary reading on steroids. It's a lot of medical mumbo jumbo and I am not a scientist lol, but I did get that steroids are "messenger molecules." One important steroid in the human body, pertaining to the circulatory system, is lipid cholesterol. Cholesterol is a major contributor to plaque build-up in our arteries, which can cause blockages that, in the event of a blood clot, can cause a heart attack. This is why when people get older, they are often told to watch their cholesterol and are tested for cholesterol levels in their blood at the doctor.

So, I'm not entirely sure what Jenner is suggesting. He's very vague. But it seems he's suggesting they use cholesterol as a way to administer some sort of "therapies" throughout the body via arterial plaque, but once again, it's impossible to administer any sort of drug to a body that doesn't have a functioning circulatory system. This is why he's saying they need to find a way to "jumpstart" the circulatory system in the walkers.

BUT, and this is my question: What if said "therapies" were administered to living human beings, like a vaccine, or a prophylactic of sorts, as a way of postponing or preventing reanimation? Lyla injects Barca with a lithium heparin compound (aka: anticoagulant) and then gasses him moments later. But Jenner specifically asks: "Can we build up acids in bodies that don't have blood flow?"

What if the compound needs time to circulate, to build up in a body with blood flow?? If it's administered as some sort of cholesterol, it's possible that the heparin is administered with it, or just afterward to thin the blood and prevent blood clotting, to ensure proper and speedy delivery of the drug. Perhaps blood clotting is a side effect. I mean, it is certainly no coincidence that they're using heparin and also talking about arterial plaques and weaponizing the circulatory system against the "virus." These things are all related.

CRAZY SPECULATION TIME: So, what if, perhaps, Beth (and possibly Joan) were both "treated" with the experimental "cure," that might be part of why Dawn wouldn't let Joan die. They needed to keep her alive, possibly (and THIS is pure head canon but still...) to transport to the research facility later on, or perhaps they needed to wait to initiate some other part of the study. Maybe said "therapy" or "treatment" needed to be circulated in the body for a long time to saturate every "system." I don't know lol. It's possible they (ie: Edwards) don't fully know either. It would have been early on in Project V. Maybe a cruder version of what they're working on now. MAYBE, possibly, it was part of the project to prolong the period between death and reanimation, like what Lyla was doing. To prolong the time in which the dead person lingers between life and death, in some sort of magical interstitial place. Maybe this has some effect or dependency on the circulatory system, maybe it was a factor in Beth being able to survive the gunshot wound. If she was suspended in animation for longer than usual, that would have given Edwards (presumably) more time to save her life.

Okay, also, some related thematic notes: Remember that the man who had been brought in right before Beth, the man who'd had the Bisquick, had been brought in with "cardiac arrest." Oh really? Very interesting choice. Also, Beth is perhaps the only character who wears hearts. She has hearts on her necklace and on her cowboy boots.

Anyway, sorry for the length on that lol. End of rabbit hole, for now. Thoughts?

@twdmusicboxmystery:

(P.S. I LOVE the link to Beth’s heart necklace. It’s exactly the kind of symbolic tie Gimple loves and would do.

@galadrieljones:

I am pretty sure, too, frangi there is a major aspirin reference in TWD season 8. Simon goes to Hilltop to usurp their doctor. In exchange he gives them a crate of aspirin. It’s like a bad joke.

—End of Conversation—

For the record, @galadieljones also brings up times we’ve seen a lot of these same symbols in FTWD. She’s watched early seasons of that more recently than the rest of us and has taken better notes. This is already getting long-ish so I won’t go into all that here, but just know that we’ve seen these sorts of things all over the TWDU, even if most people weren’t always registering them.

So that’s pretty much what I have for this coda. We had much more conversation than this, but again, I’ll spare you all of it. ;D What did everyone else think about the coda?

Madison is Back!

So, if you’ve been living under a rock for the past thirty-six hours, what they announced on TTD was that Madison, from Fear, is alive and will be back in 7b. 

Guys, this is huge!

First off, I started saying the instant she left the show that she’d be back. I won’t go into all the details, as you can read them HERE (focus on 4x01 - 4x08) , but the basics gist is that she had much of the same symbolism around her that Beth did. 

Before she died, she had yellow bird symbolism, music symbolism, and was even seen under a bridge. 

When Madison left the show, it was before they started putting out episodes a week early on AMC+ (which didn’t exist yet), so I didn’t see it early, but I did read spoilers, which reported her “death” by walker. I remember being suspicious of that, but I had to wait and reserve judgement until I actually saw the episode. 

Once I did, I literally LOL’d, because it was just so ridiculous to call that a TTD “death.” Not only did we not see her body or a burial, we didn’t even see the walker attack. At least with Glenn in 6x03, we saw him fall into a horde of walkers. Here, we saw walkers closing in on her and then...her hand/arm. (Which, even though it was a totally different angle, wasn’t unlike seeing Beth’s arm after she was shot.) 

But it was clear to me that they left that wide open for her return. I said it right away and have been saying it since. And of course I don’t focus on it much at all. Truth be told, I never liked Madison’s character overly much. I don’t hate her by any means, but I don’t particularly care for her. And I OBVIOUSLY am not anywhere near as invested in her return as I am in Beth’s. 

My point is, it’s not something I’m gunning for or care about particularly. I just read the symbolism and knew she’d be back. Now, she is. 

So, I encourage you to go read the episodes I did on Madison’s death, to convince you they did similar stuff with her as they did with Beth. And now...she’s back. 

I feel like we sort of have this triumvirate of death fake outs with Beth, Glenn, and now Madison. Of course there’s Rick, too, but unlike these three, the audience knows he’s alive, so it’s slightly different. With each of these, we have similar dialogue, similar symbolism, what SEEMS too be an obvious death, and then, sometime later, they return. Alive and well. 

I will say that I was somewhat surprised that they would announce it on TTD, spoiling a potential surprise, months before she actually appeared on the show. I couldn’t figure out why they would do that that. But then @wdway​ said it very well:

“It seems, though, they did not want this return character to be the shocking return.”

That’s a great point. No one will probably suspect TWO returns. With Madison, that gives everyone something to talk about. And I suspect it’s something of a diversion as well. Who would be talking about or suspect Beth’s return (other than TD) with Madison’s on the horizon? 

Then there were things they were actually saying on TTD. In talking of her return, they said things such as that it “aligned with the stars” and they needed to make sure it was the right story at the right time.  👀

(For the record, I don’t believe for a second that she didn’t know about Madison’s return until a year ago. I personally think she left the show knowing she would return eventually. Not something I can prove at all, of course. It’s possible the writers knew and the actress didn’t, but after watching these misdirections and sometimes outright lies for 11 years about what the actors do and don’t know about upcoming storylines, I just don’t buy that anymore.)

They also kept talking about a coda.  😱 They kept saying it in reference to the after-the-credits scene with the French people. But guys, we’ve had a good number of those scenes over the years, from when Lennie James (Morgan) returned at the end of 5x01, to Boots in 7x08, etc. I don’t think I’ve ever heard the show runners call them codas before. 

On the one hand, they might have actually picked that up from us. We (TD) has called them coda scenes for a long time, now. But all that shows is that they read our blogs. And they if they didn’t want to acknowledge the coda structure, they wouldn’t. They certainly haven’t in the past. So, this is a clue. They just kept saying it, over and over. 

Think about it. Even putting Beth aside, this is most definitely a coda for Madison’s character. She had the main part of her arc in the first three season, then left and skipped over several, and now she’s returning again. That’s the definition of a coda. But again, much of the same symbolism and dialogue around Beth, and HER LAST EPISODE WAS CALLED CODA.

If this doesn’t convince you Beth is on her way, siriusly, nothing will. I’ll still have people tell me I need to have my head examined, but I don’t know how to convey it any better than this. 

Based on the symbolism, TD predicted that Glenn would be alive after he seemed to have died in 6x03. We were right, and he was. We predicted Madison would live and return. She did, and she is. We saw the same symbolism around them as around Rick, and the audience KNOWS Rick is alive and will return. 

And, we saw all the same symbolism around Beth. Not to mention, weird mysteriousness and unsolved mysteries around her death, Grady as an open thread, other unfinished aspects of her story line, things that were set up but never paid off *coughs Bethyl*, lack of body, hints by AMC of something going down at a white church, AMC promoting Emily on social media, the actors using symbols on social media that are used in the show, and mountains of other suspiciousness.

But yeah, the skeptics are right. The most obvious, logical explanation is that Beth is really dead and the rest is just coincidence. 

Other more minor but important details from TTD:

They talked about the link between Dennis’s buddy in the Smoky mountains and Al/Isabel. I didn’t realize this, but his buddy was Isabel’s helicopter co-pilot, and he is confirmed dead. (Dennis just doesn’t know that.) But that’s how Isabel knew about the cabin in the Smokies: her friend/co-pilot told her about it. So that’s the link between the two shows. And yes, it IS intentional. 

Gimple also wrote a statement that Chris read (Gimple wasn’t actually on the show) about the coda, simply saying that there’s a story there that will be told. He also said that the characters from TWB who survived have farther to go and we will see them again. So, it wasn’t a ton of new information or anything, but just rather him hyping more story for the future. 

I kinda figured, but glad to hear they have more plans for these characters.

Okay, I’ll shut up for today. Thoughts on Madison’s return and the coda? 

[wardens-stew]

The Bone Season - unpacking Paige’s card reading!

To pass the time as I obsess about the imminent release of The Mask Falling, I’ve been thinking about when Liss did a card reading for Paige in TBS - and Elspeth elaborated on it in TSR - and felt like going back to it to see what’s been revealed and what we might glean about what’s yet to come. 

1 - Five of Cups (past)

CONFIRMED - Paige’s father mourning her mother

“You lost something when you were very small. There’s a man with auburn hair. It’s his cups that are spilled.” “My father,” I said. “Yes. You’re standing behind him, speaking to him. He doesn’t answer. He stares at a picture.” 

2 - King of Wands (present)

CONFIRMED - Jaxon’s hold on Paige 

“He controls you. Even now, you can’t escape his hold.” “Warden?” “I don’t think so. Still, he has power. His expectations of you are too high. You’re afraid of him.” Jaxon.

3 - The Devil (future); 4 - The Lovers (what to do)

LOW-KEY CONFIRMED - The Devil as the darkness within Paige; The Lovers as Paige and Warden

“This card represents a force of hopelessness, restriction, fear—but you’ve given into it yourself. There’s a shadow that the Devil represents, but I can’t see its face. Whatever power this person will have over you, you will be able to escape it. They’ll make you think you’re tied to them forever, but you won’t be. You’ll just think you are... The next card will tell you what to do when the time comes.”

I looked down at the fourth card. “The Lovers?” “Yes.” Her voice had dropped to a monotone. “I can’t see much. There’s tension between spirit and flesh. Too much.” 

Elspeth and Paige unpack this in TSR:

Two naked figures were on either side of the pedestal, bound to it, and by extension, to each other, by a silver chain. 

“The two figures in the Devil card closely resemble the couple in the Lovers card, which comes next. They could almost be Lovers... The Devil controls them. Manipulates them.” 

The words left a fine sweat on my brow. Controls them. Manipulates them. The Devil could be Terebell. Both Warden and I were chained to her: Warden by his loyalty, me by my need for her money. And we were also bound to each other by a chain, albeit a chain of gold.

“Someone stands over the pair in the Lovers card, too, though there’s no chain.” Elspeth pointed to a winged figure above the man and woman. “I’m not certain what the figure represents in this instance, but... someone is always watching this couple.”

There’s a good deal of evidence that the Lovers refers to Warden, as Paige points out, but she still isn’t sure:

“As a Rephaite, Warden was the pivot between spirit and flesh. We had always felt watched, knowing the consequences of discovery. If he represented the path I should be taking, then by trying to distance myself from him, by telling him we had to part, I had gone astray; I had turned my back on the counsel of the cards.

And yet, he could so easily be the Devil himself... or a puppet-master in its service, keeping me chained to it, to Terebell. Was he meant to be my lover or my downfall?”

She remains ambivalent, but there’s that important moment towards the end, with Jaxon:

“You will understand that all of us are devils in the skins of men. You will become the monster that lives inside us all.”

I started away from him. This wasn't the first time that his words had sounded like a prediction. The Devil. Had it been me all along? Was it the devil in myself - the devil deep beneath my skin - that I was meant to resist?”

She doesn't really arrive at a conclusion, but I think this theory is pretty convincing! I’m not quite sure if it lines up with the idea of the Devil manipulating and controlling the Lovers, though - does it make sense that the dark instincts in Paige are manipulating her and Warden?? It would fit more easily if the Devil were a person rather than something abstract.

I also think there’s more to be said about Elspeth’s observation that “someone is always watching this couple.” Paige attributes this to her general feeling of being watched in her clandestine relationship with Warden, but Elspeth’s remark suggests that something more deliberate and concrete is going on. That’s quite unnerving - the possibility that someone is literally watching Paige and Warden. I think it may be part of the larger role that their intimacy is playing on the world stage, although they’re not yet aware of it.

5 - Death, Inverted (external influences)

NOT YET DETERMINED

“Death is a normal card for voyants. Usually it appears in the past or present positions. But here, inverted—I’m not sure.” Her eyes flickered beneath their lids. “This far ahead, my sight gets hazy. Things are vague. I know the world will change around you, and you’ll do everything in your power to resist it. Death itself will work in different ways. By delaying the change, you’ll prolong your own suffering.”

Ok, I think this is definitely alluding to the possible events of TMF and Book 5 and the furthering of the Prometheus and Pandora parallel. I did some digging about the divinatory associations of the card:

DEATH.—End, mortality, destruction, corruption; also, for a man, the loss of a benefactor; for a woman, many contrarieties; for a maid, failure of marriage projects. Reversed: Inertia, sleep, lethargy, petrifaction, somnambulism; hope destroyed.

The card, drawn in reverse, can be interpreted as stagnation and the inability to move or change.

In the Mythic Tarot deck, Death is depicted by Hades.

Shit is going to get real!! “Death itself will work in different ways” -  This supports @growingstronglikeahighgardenrose‘s theory that Paige might end up going to the underworld in a Persephone/Eurydice parallel and someone will be forced to stay in the underworld for a period of time - likely Warden. The association with Hades also suggests that Warden will be involved, possibly put in some sort of slumber. I could definitely see Paige resisting this change and the ensuing separation from Warden. 

6 - Eight of Swords (hopes and fears)

NOT YET DETERMINED

“The card showed a woman, bound in a circle of upturned swords. She wore a blindfold. Liss’s skin glowed with sweat. “I can see you. You’re afraid.” Her voice trembled. “I can see your face. You can’t move in any direction. You can stay in one place, trapped, or feel the pain of the swords.”

A little info on the eight of swords, thanks to Wikipedia:

The Querent is in a situation where they're afraid to move. If they move, they'll get cut. However, the ropes that bind them and the blindfold over their eyes are their own fears, keeping them immobile. Therefore, the longer they stay, the more they constrain and entrap themselves. Ever been in a situation where you're afraid to say anything, so afraid that you second guess yourself, end up saying nothing, tying yourself in knots? But speaking up is going to get you cut to ribbons? That's this card. The Querent must have the strength to endure the cuts or they will stay trapped. They must move, for the longer they let the situation continue, the worse it will get.

Ok this is pretty far off so it’s hard to make sense of it. But it seems that Paige is going to be trapped and needs to free herself, though she will suffer for it. I have the feeling that this situation will be fairly literal, especially if the Persephone & Pandora myth holds - Paige could be stuck in some weird state maybe in the netherworld or in a dreamwalking state from which she needs to escape. Not sure if the suffering refers to collateral damage - like Warden will be hurt if she tries to escape - or if she herself will be hurt or changed by freeing herself. It’s all pretty abstract and theoretical at this point.

7 - ?????

The big mystery! I have absolutely no clue how this series will end, and it’s pretty difficult to speculate. But it’s worth thinking about what kind of ending would make sense in terms of the mythology and the larger arc of this story. I’m really anxious about whether Warden and Paige and their relationship will make  it through intact - this doesn’t really seem like the kind of series to end super duper happily like somehow everyone’s problems are solved and the world is utopian - but I also can’t see how an ending in which they were separated/dead/irreversibly damaged would be a satisfying one (pls Samantha Shannon just let them be happy!!!). This is mostly just me trying to convince myself that it’s not going to be some Allegiant-type shit - Samantha Shannon is obviously comfortable inflicting pain on her characters, but I doubt she’d do that kind of fuck-you ending where everyone is screwed. I have faith that it’ll be a satisfying and meaningful conclusion. 

Random sidenote, super bizarre and probably meaningless, but Samantha Shannon once mentioned in an answer to a Tumblr ask that there was a pregnancy storyline in TBS when she initially planned it, but she figured Twilight already did the “immortal hybrid baby thing” and eventually decided she didn’t want Paige to have kids. Then she says, “I won’t rule out writing a fun ‘what if’ chapter once the series is over, though. I just wouldn’t make it canon.” SOOOOooo.... what I’m hearing is that Paige and Warden both make it through to the end of the series alive and in a position to have kids?????

[shutupandshipit]

Sharpen Your Blades - Ch.9

Summary: “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

The thinning of Aizawa’s patience was evident in the twitching of his brow. “If you stop asking questions, maybe I could finish explaining.

”With a huff and roll of his eyes, Katsuki glanced away from their coach.

“City Hall and the SC want us to give them more variety. We are a team solely made up of single skaters. Every year, we dominate the rankings for single skate while Shinketsu dominates the pairs, so this year both cities are being required to split their skaters evenly between singles and pairs with at least one pair coming from out top five.” There was a collective intake of breath, but no one commented, choosing instead to remain silent. “Unfortunately, for us, it’s a lot easier to switch from pairs to singles. With our male to female ratio, alpha/beta/omega ratio, and those of you actually experienced with pair skating, we’re at a disadvantage. So, I’ve decided to choose your partners for you.”

…..

Or where Katsuki and Izuku are forced to be partners so they can continue to compete, but the blood in the water may be thicker than anyone realized.

Pairing: Bakudeku

Rating: T

Chapter: 9/20

Previously <- Chapter 8: First Snows

Chapter 10: Alpha Wanted -> Next

Chapter 9: Refill

“We’re going to prescribe you suppressants.”

Blinking rapidly, Izuku lifted his head. He hadn’t been paying attention, not really. All of his focus had been on the agonizing cramps turning his guts into knots, washing his vision black and grey, and his mother’s hand crushing his. His heat was still another week away, but he’d started pre-heat that morning. It would only get worse with each passing day, and bile rose in the back of his throat at the thought.

He knew that word though, ‘suppressants’. He’s read about them, not extensively, but enough. Mostly to find out how they affected the performance of the Olympic skaters who were ‘strongly encouraged’ to take a form of both suppressants and birth control for all primary and secondary genders.

He’d never thought about using them himself though.

Clearing his throat, he asked over Inko’s sniffling, “Suppressants?”

The kind while strange doctors cocked their heads at him. “Do you know what suppressants are?” the man asked.

“Yes, a little, but why? I’m not really sure why you would want to put me in suppressants...”

Inko sobbed, “You think things are that bad?”

The doctors glanced at each other, but seemed to come to the conclusion to ignore his mother’s question. The only thing was that he wanted to know the answer too. “Suppressants have many uses. We want to use them to help regulate your heat and to make them easier,” the man explained.

Izuku bit his lip, shame twisting his insides as badly as the cramps, but asked anyway, “Can you make them go away? I don’t… want to have heats. I don’t like them. They hurt.”

“Well, that can happen during periods of excessive stress and when you’re young. You see, it’ll level out eventually. So, we’re just going to use the suppressants until that leveling out happens,” the woman explained.

Izuku stared at her as the pain in his abdomen worsened, but he managed to not hunch over completely. “I don’t care. I don’t want them.”

Inko gasped beside him, and he didn’t have to look at her to feel her eyes boring into him. “Izuku! Don’t say that! Having heats, being able to bring life into this world, is a gift!”

Again, Izuku said, “I don’t want them.”

The man pursed his lips, pushing a hand back into his dark hair. “Restricting your hormones like that is not advised, especially since you’re so young. But we can do this for you, okay? We’re not willing to endanger your health like that.”

Izuku didn’t reply, doing his best to fight the uncharacteristic anger that rose in his chest with the very characteristic tears that flooded his eyes. He didn’t want to have heats, not since he’d started them. He’d just have to find a way to use the prescription to his advantage.

…..

November Week 1

“Dr. Matsumoto?” Izuku asked tentatively as he poked his head around the door to his doctor’s office.

The omega man spun around in his chair, quickly pushing his glasses up his nose and smiling at Izuku. “Mr. Midoriya! Come in, come in! Dr. Kavinsky will be here in just a moment. Please, have a seat. There’s a few things we would like to discuss with you today.”

Izuku followed the doctor’s orders, sitting down on the paper covered exam table. The stirrups attached to the end made him queasy, but he wasn’t here for that kind of checkup, thank everything holy. To take his mind off his nerves, he stripped out of his coat and held out the arm that hadn’t just had blood drawn from it. Dr. Matsumoto strapped a blood pressure cuff to him. It was all business as usual. Even though Dr. Shuzenji had taken over his care for physical therapy and sports physicals, he still went to his usual doctors for everything else.

Nowadays, he only found himself in the doctor’s office every six months for his check-ups and whenever he needed to refill his suppressants. Today had only been meant for a refill, but he didn’t actually interact with either of his doctors for that normally. So the fact that they had requested him to attend an appointment with both of them present was more worrying than he was willing to let on.

He and Dr. Matsumoto chatted idly while they waited for Dr. Kavinsky, and each passing moment of small talk made Izuku all the more nervous. When the female omega bustled in with jovial apologies, he was nearly ready to vibrate right off the edge of the table. Digging his fingers into the padding, he forced a smile and said, “No worries, Dr. Kavinsky, but um… is there anything wrong? I only needed a refill, and there’s still another couple of months until my next check-up.”

The doctors glanced at each other, a peculiar habit they’d had as long as he’d known them, before Dr. Kavinsky glanced back at him and Dr. Matsumoto turned to click away at the computer. “Well, no, there’s nothing particularly wrong. Well, I haven’t seen your blood work just yet, but I would like to say everything is alright. That is to say, we didn’t ask you to come here for anything concerning your check-ups, but concerning your refill.” She’d also always had a peculiar way of speaking, and Izuku took a few moments to process her words. There was a ping on the computer, and she glanced away towards the screens as the other omega began sliding around open files around on the screen.

Ice trickled into his veins, the first indication of panic. “My refill, ma’am? Is there something wrong with it?”

Again, the two doctors exchanged a look. There were colorful charts that made no particular sense to Izuku across the computer screen now including a long list of text open on the opposite monitor. They pulled the screen away from the wall to swivel it towards him, a piece of furniture he found cool every other occasion but right then. Flanking the screen, Dr. Matsumoto spoke while Dr. Kavinsky pointed at spots on the bar and pie graphs. “I want you to take a look at this chart, Mr. Midoriya, do you know what this represents?” Izuku shook his head, and the doctor continued without missing a beat. “These are graphs that we devised to make it easier to explain things to patients. These charts represent the levels of crucial hormones in your body over the past couple visits you’ve had. You might be able to tell why we’re concerned.”

Izuku swallowed, eyes absorbing every ounce of info he could glean from the sparsely labeled graphs, but he thought he understood what they were trying to say. “The levels have been dropping over the past two years?” He was only taking a stab in the dark on the time frame. He couldn’t remember how many times he’d come in in the past year, but he knew he’d gotten his blood drawn every time. There were a lot of charts staring at him.

“These charts are just from the past year not including the one that was run today. That one is still in text format over there. We have ones dating back to when you were first placed on suppressants as well. We’ve seen dips in your levels that track with the dates you’ve given us for your heats though they are lower than what we’d expect for normal suppressant usage, but this has been a common theme with your heats and suppressants.” He glanced at Izuku though, and the slight frown of disapproval seemed to say he suspected foul play on Izuku’s part. He wouldn’t have been wrong, and Izuku ripped his eyes away back to the screen. “But your levels have rapidly begun to decline this year and that is dangerous. Dangerous for everyone, but particularly for omegas and alphas. We’d hoped that they would level back out, but...” Dr. Matsumoto inhaled noisily, but Dr. Kavinsky was the one to speak.

“Mr. Midoriya, we are no longer going to be providing you with suppressants.”

Izuku’s eyes snapped to her. Every ugly emotion he possessed -fear, anger, horror, terror- all crowded together in his chest. They all vied for attention until he was feeling nothing at all. Since he’d started training close to Katsuki again, he’d also started having to regularly take his suppressants -sometimes even taking them twice or three times a day-, and the sweeping numbness that they occasionally caused was a welcome relief at times. “Why? I… I need my suppressants, ma’am, sir.”

“Do you know why we have suppressants, Mr. Midoriya? Do you know what they do?” Dr. Kavinsky asked.

His immediate response was ‘yes’, but the look on her face told him that any answer he gave was going to be wrong. At least partially. Still, he said, “To control heats for omega and ruts for alphas so we can still function in society. Either putting them on a set schedule or making them easier to handle so there will be less damage and recuperation afterwards.”

“Well, that is true, yes, but that’s only part of it. Here’s the thing, suppressants are actually meant to sustain hormone levels. That’s how we manage all of those things. That’s also why there are so many different kinds, and not all of them work for every omega or alpha. Everybody’s bodies are different, and therefore need different hormone levels for suppressants to work. Here’s another thing that isn’t usually explained, but it is why prolonged use is highly discouraged. Prolonged use can make these crucial hormone levels drop to severe and dangerous levels, which is why blood tests are needed to track these. That is what we’re beginning to see with your hormone levels. For an alpha or omega, if these levels drop too far it could cause a catatonic state or that person to go feral. Much like with what happened to you when you were younger. If use is continued, this could even cause death. So, we’re discontinuing your refills, and if your hormones do not return to normal, we may have to start hormone treatments. There are other safer ways to manage your heats, especially since you’ve been an adult for a few years now.”

The room fell silent, and after a moment, Dr. Matsumoto seemed to feel the need to include, “This is commonly seen in… suppressant abuse and dependency cases…”

Izuku worked his jaw, and after a moment, muttered, “What am I supposed to do without my suppressants? I haven’t had a heat… that isn’t unbearable since I presented.” He hadn’t really had any heats since he was eleven and was put on his suppressants, but he didn’t need to tell them that.

The suppressants he’d been prescribed were supposed to be taken daily, but he skipped his dose most days and saved them for the moment he started feeling his pre-heat set in. He’d take double until his heat would normally end, effectively eliminating it all together. Heats and ruts functioned as a full body detox, resetting the body for a new cycle, so to completely be skipping them… Well, he was sure that it had something to do with his declining hormone levels. It couldn’t be healthy.

But he didn’t have any other choice. They were just too painful.

“There are apps that provide heat services where an alpha will stay in your vicinity or even physically help you through your heat. Or if you’re a traditionalist, possibly you could date. There are also some very R-rated sites that have plenty of heat implements that may make things easier. As for the chemical route, we cannot condone further use,” Dr. Matsumoto explained, repositioning the screen and sitting back down.

He looked so helpful, sounded so helpful, but all Izuku wanted to do was strangle him. Maybe that was why he forced a smile, hopped off the table and grabbed his coat. If that wasn’t an addict’s response, he didn’t know what was. He didn’t want to be an addict. It was a hard truth to consider. “Thank you for your time today, doctors. I appreciate you explaining things to me. I’ll see you in another couple of months.” Without waiting to hear their answers, he turned and left the room despite how rude that was.

He had to get to practice. He didn’t have time to be worrying about things like this.

…..

Katsuki hadn’t been looking forward to practice. He enjoyed cardio generally, but once the first snow fell for the season, he absolutely despised it. He would rather skate endless circles around the rink or do sprints or just about anything else for hours over running outside. Living in Yuuei, logic would have stated that he was used to the cold by that point in his life, but reality was a cruel mistress. Every breath he took felt like ice picks being rammed into his lungs, and once everything was said and done, it took him at least two hours to properly warm up again.

Still, he dutifully showed up to practice that afternoon dressed in thermals and his workout gear instead of his usual heavy winter wear. He wore the beanie and gloves that he’d had to dig out of the bottom of his closet, a little musty and very itchy. He hadn’t remembered why he’d relegated them to be forgotten in the shadows, but standing there wearing them, he was reminded all over again. He was mildly bitter about the fact that Izuku had hoarded his gloves and hat instead of returning them.

Granted, Katsuki wouldn’t have accepted them -he gave them to an omega for fuck’s sake, he’d never see them again- but he would have liked the gesture. Well, he’d take them back under very specific circumstances.

‘Gifts to omega. Must provide. Keep warm. Warmth is strong body. Strong body is strong pups. Court omega to mate omega. Omega will give strong pups. Omega will make good mate. Omega will make alpha happy.’

‘I get it,’ Katsuki thought at his alpha viciously, but as much as he hated to bother with the basest of his instincts, he had allowed his alpha to guide him. And it seemed to have paid off.

He slouched on a park bench while he waited for the rest of the team to show up, nursing a bottle of hot tea. Several of the others had already turned up including his partner, and his eyes hadn’t left Izuku’s hands. Wrapped up in green, white and black thermal fleece lined gloves with a rabbit decal on the back, Izuku’s hands looked very warm indeed. And from what he could tell, the size of the gloves were perfect.

Smirking to himself, he slid a little further down.

The omega stood several meters away from Katsuki as he watched Iida and Uraraka go back and further. Iida gestured as animatedly as usual, and Uraraka mimicked his movements until a small smile appeared on Izuku’s face. The omega didn’t join in the conversation though, and something about the way he stood, a little further back than usual with his arms held tightly across his chest, told Katsuki something wasn’t right.

‘Omega distressed? Worried? Angry?’ his alpha asked worriedly.

‘I don’t know.’

The smirk on his face fell away, and as if sensing his gaze, Izuku turned towards him. There was a fakeness to his smile that Katsuki had been forced to get used to since they’d presented. That smile had stuck around for years after Aizawa had recruited them, but it had rarely made an appearance in recent years. Seeing it now felt like an ill omen, like the worst kind of shock to his system. He sat up straight, but as Izuku headed his way, he watched it ease into something more true.

“Kacchan!” Izuku said, stopping beside Katsuki as he shoved his hands into coat pockets.

“What do you want, nerd?”

Izuku’s smile didn’t falter, and only seemed to grow wider as he held out the pair of gloves Katsuki had given him the week before. “Sorry for keeping them so long. I was still using them, but someone left me these as a present in my bag yesterday, so I thought I’d return yours.”

Pursing his lips, Katsuki stared at the gloves, not reaching for them even though he very much wanted to trade out his current itchy pair. The fact that they’d smell like Izuku just made it harder to fight. “Are those better than mine?”

Red flushed Izuku’s cheeks, and Katsuki knew the answer. “Well, I uh, that is- Yours are really nice-”

“Stop stuttering, and just give me a straight answer. Damn.”

“They’re… a bit nicer than yours, but only because they fit better!”

Which meant they were worlds better than Katsuki’s beat up, worn in fur lined leather gloves. He hid a smirk in his collar. Snatching them from Izuku’s hand, he said, “Better hurry up and figure out who gave them to you soon to thank them properly.”

Still smiling, Izuku clasped his hands behind his back. “You wouldn’t have any idea who that would be, right Kacchan? Maybe you saw something?”

“The only thing I see is the fact that you’re still wearing my fucking beanie too.”

Izuku’s hand jumped up to his hair flattened by the black and orange beanie. “Do you want it back?”

“I’m already wearing one. No use when it’s just going to go in my pocket.”

“Okay.” Izuku didn’t turn back to his friends like Katsuki thought he would, but instead took a seat beside him. As soon as he sat, he seemed to deflate, shoulders drooping and smile dropping almost into non-existence. His eyes gazed off into the distance.

Katsuki wasn't sure if he should say anything and disturb Izuku, or continue to stare and watch him wallow. He chose the former, preferring a smiling Izuku to whatever he'd turned into. "What's the matter with you?" Izuku's eyes snapped towards him, startled, and Katsuki felt worse for knowing that it was because that was the first time Katsuki had asked how he was doing in years. Even when they'd actually been best friends, he'd rarely ever asked Izuku that question.

That fake smile returned immediately. "Oh, nothing, Kacchan, just a little tired. Thanks for asking though."

'Don't. Don't pretend with me. Don't put on that fake expression. You don't have to do that with me,' Katsuki thought desperately, wishing he had the guts to just come out and say it. Before he could muster up the words though, Toshinori called their attention, waving them over to the beginning of the hiking trail.

Together they stood and started towards their coaches.

Aizawa was bundled up tightly in black and maroon, looking not at all present as he dozed against a tree. Toshinori, tall and gaunt, stood beside the omega beneath the dropping bows of the pine. His blond hair was pushed back with a hairband much like the one Katsuki had given Izuku several weeks ago, and his track suit looked bulky and warm. "Good afternoon, my young charges! I hope you all had a good night yesterday." As always, Toshinori's voice was loud and booming, drawing the attention of people down the walking path.

The team tittered away for several long moments until Toshinori cleared his throat to bring their attention back to the task at hand. "Alright. We haven't used this hiking path for a run in awhile so be mindful of the condition of the road, low hanging branches, icy patches and roots. Don't overwork yourselves too early, this trail is an eight kilometer loop all together. With the season about to start, we're also starting up our annual Run-to-Win Competition. Remember, first place gets the most points, and if you're the first to cross the finish line, you get certain prizes. Today is the right to choose your own outfit for the exhibition within reason of course, but you'll be the final decider in the end." The group erupted in excited shouts again, and even Katsuki perked up.

He'd gotten to choose his outfit a couple times over the course of his career, but there'd always been something his coach rejected or made him change. He'd never had a true say in what he wore. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Izuku straighten up in interest. Right, they were partners this year. If one of them came in first, that person would also be choosing the others’ outfit as well. They had to match, at least for the most part, and Katsuki wasn't about to wear something fucking stupid because he lost to Izuku.

Izuku glanced at him, catching his eye. They held eye contact for a long moment before the real smile was back again. "What do you say, Kacchan? Who's going to be choosing our outfits?"

With all of the others, they lined up at the mouth of the trail, and waited for Toshinori to start the clock. "Me, of course, shitty Deku," Katsuki spat before taking off with everyone.

Both he and Izuku didn't go full tilt right off the bat like a lot of their teammates did. The course was long, and they didn’t need to burn out too early. At least half of the others streamed out ahead of them, but soon enough, they were leading the pack. The rest lagged, some beginning to walk and others stopping all together to bend over and breath heavily. Only a few kept a steady pace, but none of them were as fast or steady as Izuku and Katsuki. Soon enough, they were the only ones on the path.

They kept pace with each other. Step for step, breath for breath, they ran together as if they were practicing synchronicity again. It was only when they'd already passed the fourth mile that they glanced at each other and simultaneously picked up the speed. Even as their race truly started, they were in sync. It was maddening in more ways than one, and Katsuki huffed like a boar as he worked to get even an inch in front of Izuku. Still, they remained neck and neck.

"Goddammit, Deku!" Katsuki spat on a sharp exhale. They were all but sprinting by that point, drenched in sweat and nearing the end of the trail.

Izuku had a wild smile, cheeks flushed with beautiful color and eyes alight. "I'm- going to- beat you- Kacchan!"

"Like hell!"

A wild laugh fell from Izuku's lips as the mouth of the trail came into view, and they both put in every last ounce of strength they had left. They reached the end of the trail, and kept going as they slipped on a patch of ice just on the other side.

"Fuck!" Katsuki cried, flailing backwards and snapping out a hand to keep Izuku from crashing forward onto his knees. Instead, they tumbled back into the snow between the trees, Katsuki on his back and Izuku against his chest completely out of breath. "Fuuuuuuck," Katsuki groaned, head flopped back even as the snow began to melt and soak his hair. He could barely breathe, and Izuku's weight didn't make it any better. Still, Izuku didn't try to get up and Katsuki didn't push him away.

After a moment, Katsuki felt the frozen tip of a nose skim along the column of his throat. Izuku's scent wafted to him. Sweat and excitement and musk and mint and arousal and lightning, and again, that chemical cleanness. It was the same as the last time he'd smelled it, but stronger than before. Like when they'd been twelve, and Izuku had been abusing suppressants. Wrinkling his nose against the scent and the sudden rush of worry and anger in his body, he felt more than heard Izuku gasp above him.

The weight disappeared from his chest, and he cracked his eyes open to find Izuku's surprised expression as Toshinori lifted him off Katsuki and Aizawa grasping his forearm to pull him to his own feet.

When his eyes found the omega's again, Izuku grinned. "Good race, Kacchan, but it looks like we're going to have to work together on our costumes."

"One of these days, you're going to have to give the others a chance to win a race," Aizawa said.

Katsuki sneered at their coach. "Not a chance in hell! We won fair and square. They need to try harder if they want to win."

Izuku laughed, the sound a tinkling chime even as Aizawa rolled his eyes and pulled the other omega away. "See you later, Kacchan," he called, hand waving over his head.

Katsuki couldn't rip his eyes away from him or rub away the reminder of his scent.

[mimiwrites2000]

Betrayal

Aruani week 2020 - Day 2 - Betrayal

AO3 ~~

Pairings: Armin x Annie

Rating: Mature

Words count: 4223

Summary: 

They met in an alley, a narrow, foul-smelling passageway, in the middle of a cold night

A few months later, he found himself walking to that place, the place where his life crumbled and was reborn, and just like last time, she was waiting for him.

a journey of lies and deception, desires and emotions

He walked down the street, one street-light bulb was flickering on and off with blips. Loud, tall buildings contouring both sides of the road, fluorescent squares of college students’ rooms queued in lines, inundating the moon’s light. The music gashing from cheap speakers leached out from the opened windows, belching ear-deafening tunes by another random mainstream singer, disturbing the serene night. The startling, overabundant alcohol aroma could be smelled from where he stood, mixed with a suspicious scent of sweat and other things he didn’t want to think about.

It was surreal how this exact same place, a few months ago, was vacant, deserted, abandoned enough to commit a crime and get away with it, a perfect place to find a victim bleeding to death.

He turned right and stepped into an alley, so narrow, invisible to anyone who didn’t know it existed, dumpsters crammed in crocked lines, a black cat jumped from one, sneering at the unwanted invader. A tiny circle of an igniting orange made him aware that he wasn’t alone, that yet again, she was here before him.

“You’re late,” she said, letting out a breath of smoke, he smelled strawberry, adding another aroma to the blend, this type of cigarettes that he never heard of before, with fruity flavors, masking these deathly pillars with sweet, sweet aromas, feigning a compelling innocence.

“I’m not, you’re just early,” he retorted, stepping towards her. Red cascades leaked through the cracks in the concrete walls, smearing the ground, his ears picked up the whiny voices of a victim, calling for help- he shook his head; the red and the voices vanished, he knew he was hallucinating, maybe depriving himself of sleep for the past three days finally exacerbated his senses, or maybe awakened old memories from the depths of his unconscious mind, memories that he tried to bury and forget they existed.

In the reflected light of the moon, he watched how her fingers delicately curled around the pillar of paper, her scarlet-drawn lips circling around the tip, before another cloud of fatal fumes left her lungs. The sting aroma of iron sliced through the air, red, thick moisture oozed from between her fingers and from her eyes, trickling down her pale cheeks before dripping onto the ground, mixing with the excess stench water of botched trash bags, its intense color fading.

He shook his head again, and the blood disappeared, the artificial-strawberry smoke infiltrating his nostrils. He forced his attention back on why he came here in the first place, he promised himself to finish the business, easy and quick.

She lobbed the burnt cigarette on the ground and stomped it with her leather boots, leaving it crinkled-dead on the ground as she took her time striding to him, her arms crossed, and her hips swaying.

He didn’t move, but his eyes caught the rim of her red and black checkered knee-length skirt move from side to side as she inched closer to him. If he doesn’t say anything, he will lose again to her, he will surrender to her touch and get lost in her eyes, so he greeted her: “Annie.”

“Ah, I see you’ve discovered my real name,” Annie mimicked, a smirk in her voice, even though her face was as stoic as a stone, “didn’t like Maddie? I thought it suited me.” She halted two steps away from him, looking straight into his eyes, the only resemblance between them, those ocean blue eyes.

“It wasn’t hard to know who you truly are, you’re not exactly secretive,” He was trying hard to not glance at her lips.

“I am, I am,” Annie  contradicted, “you just did your homework of digging into files, or did you…” she took another step, close enough to feel his breath on her face, and she heard his heart racing in his chest, “or did a little friend of yours help you?”

“I don’t need help from anyone,” unlike you, he almost spat out, but he held himself from doing so, he still had a lot to glean out of her, one step at a time.

Annie raised an impressed eyebrow at him, with a fake preaching voice she praised: “Look at your smart ass, I wonder what else you know, you’re smarter than you let on,” She eyed him up and down, he was wearing a dark blue suit with the jacket on, even though it was a hot, humid summer night, but the upper buttons of his shirt were left undone, no tie to be seen.

“I’m a respected scientist.”

Annie hummed.

“I graduated from Harvard.” He added.

“Same goes for me.”

He snorted, an actual, authentic laugh, she was a professional liar, one who slipped lies as if they were nothing, she could concoct anecdotes that never existed, she could fathom a smile that was no different from a candid one, hiding her poisonous fangs behind her lips, she could cry tears of pain that she never went through, she could feign the role of a victim, lay on the ground in this same alley, drenched in her own blood, crying in soft, hurt moans, praying someone would peak into this unseen passageway. She would mistake a drunk man to be her knight in shining armor, or two college students whom hormones were out of control to be two angels who descended from heaven to save her.

Annie clicked her tongue and pouted: “Someone didn’t do their homework good.” She ran her tongue on the inside of her upper row of her white-pearl teeth, an apprehensive expression on her face, but he couldn’t tell if it was fake or real, “I remember you, you used to wear glasses.”

He froze, his heart skipped a beat and shuffled through the following three.

“You were always rushing from one class into the other, you must’ve had a busy schedule.”

He swallowed.

“No wonder we graduated in the same year, even though I’m a year older than you.”

He remembered, and he wished he didn’t.

He took a step backwards, this closeness to her made his mind buzz with timely-wrong thoughts, things he shouldn’t think about when he was in the presence of this woman.

He cleared his throat, he tapped the heels of his feet on the ground, shifting his weight from one foot to the other: “Technology? Really? Is that what you wasted four years studying?” he knew his words were in vain, he knew exactly why she majored in that, she was the living proof that computers will take over humanity in no time.

That a time will come when privacy will be a fantasy humans can only daydream about, that holding a phone is no different than holding a bomb, a place where all your info rests unbothered, until the delicate fingers of a hacker taps some keys in a remote place, and everything you once had, is gone.

Same goes for teenagers, business companies, doctors, or maybe a conservative, illegal lab.

“I missed my graduation,” Annie dodged his question, her head lolling to the side, her lower lip curling outward.

She’s faking hurt, again, he had to remind himself, otherwise he would trust her external emotions, “Let me guess, you were busy hacking into a bank or something?”

Annie gasped and put her hand on her chest, right above her heart: “How dare you?! I was beside my father before he died.”

“That’s a lie-”

“How can you be this heartless?”

The crack in her voice, the blip on the last syllable, all was an Oscar-worthy act.

She sniffled, though no tears were seen, before she shook her head and scrounged: “I thought you were the good person.”

For a moment, he wanted to strangle her throat and shake her until everything he needed to know was out of her, to shake off all this charade she was putting up, this charade that got worn out and had holes in it, or maybe it was already shredded from the beginning but he was too blind to see it. He blamed her hands, her soft touch, her moist lips, he blamed her, she was the one who blocked his vision, the one who blurred his world into a dizzy, vast rollercoaster loop, a never ending one.

But this was the end of this wild ride, and he was getting off of it soon enough.

Annie didn’t wait for an answer, she walked past him, but he was quick to react.

With one swift motion, he pushed her to the wall, slamming her back into it, she gasped, and before she could fight back, he held both her wrists above her head, “In a hurry to see Reiner and Bert?” he sneered through his teeth.

Even if it was swift, he glimpsed panic flash in her eyes, and he knew he hit a nerve.

“Looking for your next victim?” He hit the nerve again when he felt her pulse quicken underneath his grasp.

“Says whom? The one who plays with chemicals?”

For the first time since the beginning of the meeting, he heard her tone change dramatically; abhor soaking each syllable, her voice was choked behind her teeth, her breath was hot on his face.

“You can’t get enough, Arlert,” She seethed, venom dripping from her tongue when she said his name, hatred enveloped her first phrase.

Arlert rose his eyebrows, he was trying to keep his cool, to not lose it, so he focused on one thing: “You finally said my name, my real name that you knew from the start, from that night.”

That night, when he found her in this alley in a puddle of red, her limbs twisted in pain. He wanted to call 911, but she didn’t let him, she begged and pleaded with him to not call anyone, tears of implore mixing with tears of pain, merging with the trails of blood on her cheeks, before her eyes rolled to the back of her skull, and her body slackened against his own.

That night, he carried her home, he showered her in his bathtub, cleaned her cuts and washed dried blood off her cheeks and out of her hair, cleaned her clothes in his washer, and tucked her in his blankets, on his own bed.

“Huh,” Annie ’s voice brought him back from the far lane of his memories, “you’re used to being called Mr. Arlert, aren’t you? The way they call you at work.” her nose was pointing to the sky, “do they pay you enough?” she asked, “do they?”

“It’s rude to ask people how much they earn.”

“Or maybe it’s rude to ask people how much they get for altering humans’ genes?”

Her comment threw Arlert off, and in a second, their positions were switched; his back pressed into the wall, the ragged stone digging into his skin through the thick fabric of his suit.

His heart was beating against his ribcage, each beat sending painful jolts into his veins, and he finally saw the fang sticking out from beneath her smirk, that fang that she kept well hidden from him.

His knees shook under his weight that seemed to amplify under her glare, her hands on his shoulders screwing him in his place, and he wasn’t scared because she exposed him, he knew before-hand that she sneaked into each notch of his files and belongings, that she most likely memorized every substance in the countless drugs he made, the names of his crewmates, and the names of the hostages that were experimented on.

After all, one hostage must have meant something to her.

She had enough time to dive deep inside of him; to uncover every secret about him, she had four full months to do so, and she didn’t waste a minute of them.

She slept in his bed for these four months, had three meals on his dining table daily, she no longer was a guest, he got too accustomed to her presence that he couldn’t imagine how he managed to live on his own before.

But here he was, imprisoned in her cage-alike arms.

Annie glided down her hands down his chest, and even though she was no longer pining him down, he couldn’t get himself to move, to shift a limb, or unclench a finger from his clutched fists beside him.

She rubbed small circles on his shirt, watching how the fabric dented under her fingers, and she imagined them on his bare skin, trailing shapes on his chest, on his back, on his cheeks and running through his short, blond hair.

Beneath the shirt, thunder-shaped fire was kindled on his skin in the trace of her finger tips, the skin burned and charred, but he didn’t move, he didn’t run even after she pressed her thigh into his, and he felt a cold, hard thing pushing into his flesh.

Annie waited for a reaction, a flicker of an eyelid, a twitch of a lip, a quick breath, but nothing.

She smirked, so even after he knew she was armed, that she had a gun in her hand reach, he kept his I’m-cool act up, “You’ve got guts,” she said, not backing away from him, but she did lean her weight off of him.

Arlert almost breathed in relief; her body against him was making his already fucked up mind buzz with horrible thoughts that he shouldn’t be occupied with while his life was on stakes.

But he didn’t get to relish in it; Annie stepped on her toes and bent closer to his face, her hands resting on his shoulder once again, though this time her touch was soft, delicate, like a feather, and even though he knew it was hopeless, a tiny candle of hope was lit inside of him, a tiny farfetched wish that maybe, he could get her back to him.

The sirens in his mind belched and ordered him to turn his head away from her, to do something about her, to not surrender, but he was too frozen to oblige; and when Annie  brushed her fingers against his lips, these sirens were too loud to comprehend what they were shouting anymore.

“You’re not running, you’re too used to it,” Annie looked into his eyes, and something flashed inside of them, a thing so intense, a thing that was her only fear. She escaped his gaze and averted her eyes, leaning towards the lob of his ear, a smirk pulled on her lips when she got a shudder from him, and she was itching to weaken him further, to make him crumble and bow to her, to melt him into a puddle underneath her feet and watch her reflection in it staring back at her.

She pressed her lips against his ear and whispered: “You got used to that.”

“Stop it.” Arlert teemed from between his teeth, his fists clutching tighter, he thought his fingers’ bones would crush under the pressure.

“You liked it when I called out your name,” she pressed her frame into his, her voice dropping lower, her cheek rubbing against his, “when I moaned your name-”

“Stop it.”

“In your bed.”

His back was as stiff as the stone behind it, the heel of his feet digging into the solid concrete ground beneath, his teeth gritting into a powder, and his breath was quick and shallow, his ears drumming each time his heart sent blood circulating in his veins.

His hands on his sides sweating and on fire, they were near the edge of sprouting up and engulfing her frame, to run them all over her back and in her hair, to feel his skin against her, her body arching into his, pressed into his, his fingers emitting notes from her that were music to his ears.

Just like that night.

“Armin,” Annie whispered, so low, her voice breathy, her fingers trailing down his neck, “Armin,” she planted an open-mouth kiss on his neck, and he trembled, “Armin,” her fingers reached the short hair of his undercut, “Armin.”

“Stop.”

She stopped.

But her hands on him lingered.

Armin, who squeezed his eyes shut, was trying to control his breathing, trying to slow it into a rhythmic melody, but it was impossible with Annie this close to him, he wanted her to step away from him, to let him breathe.

But he also didn’t want to let her go, if anything, he wanted to wipe that ridiculous red lipstick and break the tie holding her hair up in that small, tight bun, he wanted to repeat what he did the morning preceding that night, bring her breakfast in his bed, feed her with his hands, and listen to her story, pausing every now and then to wipe her tears with his fingers, until her tears were spent and her story was told.

He shook his head, all of it was a lie, he couldn’t let himself fall into that deep hole again, it took him long enough to pull himself out from it, it was all a lie.

Annie withdrew from Armin, and he couldn’t hold back a tiny sigh of relief, but when he opened his eyes, he wished he didn’t close them in the first place.

Her hair was down, and the blood-red lipstick was smeared around her lips in a failed attempt to wipe it off, leaving a trail of smudged red on her sleeve.

He really shouldn’t have closed his eyes, he shouldn’t have given her another chance to deceive him, to curl her snake-tail around the last bit of his senses.

When he looked into her eyes, they were dead, prosaic, and they didn’t suit her shoulder-length golden hair, her angel-sculpted face, these were the eyes of a criminal hunting the only good memory he had of her.

And he wanted to lurch his fingers into her eyes sockets and embowel them of these foreign eyes.

Without breaking eye contact, she reached beneath her knee-length skirt and pulled out the gun he felt a minute ago and pointed it right between his eyes.

“It was a pleasure meeting you,” Annie said, watching Armin’s eyes widen, the truth that he’s living his last moments sinking in.

Armin closed his eyes, feeling the cold metal pressing between his eyebrows, and counted.

One

Two

Three

Blue

Four

Soft

Six

Golden

No, five

Gracious

Seven

Eight

A click of a gun

Nine

“I really loved you that night,” she confessed.

Ten

The cold metal was no longer on his forehead, and when Armin opened his eyes, Annie was pointing the gun to the sky.

And the look in her eyes, a sad blue streaked by darker ocean-like hue, and maybe it was a trick of light, but he could swear he saw them glistening with tears.

“I really did,” She said, before she pulled the trigger, a wire shooting from the gun barrel, clutching into something above with a clink, and in a second, she was no longer standing in front of him.

A minute, five minutes, an hour, or maybe a couple, Armin lost track of time and sense, and he wasn’t snapped out of it until he heard the sirens of police echoing in the distance.

His legs were numb, and his throat was dry.

Armin walked out the alley the exact moment the cars pulled out next to it, he was tired, so tired, he just wanted to go back home and sleep for three days straight, but he knew he won’t be getting any rest for some time.

“Put your hands up!” A female voice commanded, and Armin acted like he was told.

Multiple uniformed police officers bolted out the car, one of them got closer to him, her gun already pointed at him, but the moment she got a clearer look at who he was, she dropped the gun and placed it in the waist belt she was wearing.

“What exactly happened in there? Are you ok?” She said, she gestured for the other police officers to go into the alley. Even though she was much taller than Armin, she had to bend her back to get a look at his tilted down face.

“I’m sorry, I failed, Mikasa,” Armin said, he finally looked up, his eyes looking straight into hers, and he didn’t realize that he probably looked like shit until he noticed her frowned eyebrows.

“We thought something bad happened to you,” Mikasa sighed, “the mic, we could no longer hear you and-”

“What?” Armin asked, his hands already reaching into the fold of his jacket’s collar, before his fingers touched the small circular device.

“We didn’t lose connection, but the sound suddenly got muffled and- oh.”

Mikasa got her answer as Armin held up the tiny, wireless device, now covered with dough-like substance.

“Shit,” Armin hissed and wrangled the tinkered-into-uselessness device to the ground, he ran his fingers over his sculp, tugging at the roots of his blonde hair, he turned around from Mikasa and huffed, not only did he fail to rat out Annie to the police, a wanted hacker that they couldn’t catch for years, but this hacker knew all about his plan from the very beginning.

She knew he was mic-ed, and she knew he was there to betray her.

Just like she betrayed him.

“What about the tracking device?” Mikasa inquired, crossing her arms.

“What about it?” Armin regretted the question the moment it left his mouth.

“You tell me, we found it two miles from here down the street, and we were in full panic mode because we had no idea the whereabout of you and her.”

“Oh…” Armin’s mind was short-circuiting with all the excuses he prepared for this question, but unlike when he first thought of them, now they sounded lame and unreal.

“Besides,” Mikasa took a step closer to him, looking around, making sure that her words were audible to only him, “what’s going on between you two?”

Answers rolled in his head one by one.

Lovers? No, too cheerful, too innocent.

Friends? Friends don’t strip you and fuck you senseless.

Enemies? That’s a strong term to describe what they had.

“I was behind her father’s death,” he didn’t choose to say it, nor did he think of it, it just slipped off his tongue.

Mikasa’s eyes widened, she blinked, and crooked her head to the side, as if waiting for Armin to tell her it was all a joke of some horrible sense of humor.

When he didn’t budge, she inched closer to him and whispered: “Does anyone know about it?”

Armin shook his head.

“Let’s keep it that way, you already have enough on your shoulders, and you breached our contract; you get her, we let you go, but if you don’t…” Mikasa sighed and pulled out the cuffs hanging from her waist, and Armin, without questioning it, held out his hands to her, “Armin Arlert, you’re under arrest for helping out a wanted criminal, and for illegal experiments in an unauthorized lab.”

Armin let out a slow, long breath; even though his life technically was over, and his career had turned into dust, a sense of relief washed over him.

All of it was over.

No more stressing out about being caught, no more pressure to keep working from the shadows.

He knew this would happen one day; he knew it too well.

It was just a matter of time.

Guilt gnawed at his stomach as he saw disappointment in Mikasa’s eyes, his childhood friend taking his hand and guiding him to prison, the place where he would most likely spend the rest of his life in.

How ironic.

She opened the passenger door of the police car for him, he got in and before she closed the door she whispered: “Don’t worry, I got you.”

Mikasa tapped on the car’s roof, and the wheels started spinning; Armin in the backseat, his hands cuffed, and a police officer taking him to wherever next was to happen to him.

Armin threw his head back and let out a groan, he fluttered his eyes shut, trying to let the events of this one night to sink in, this was all just a nightmare, an actual real life nightmare that he was trying to avoid it for the past nine years or more, but here he was in the back seat of a police car, alone, waiting for whatever the next days held for him-

Wait

He was alone.

In the backseat.

Who in hell would let someone under arrest alone in a car with just one police officer, who had their hands full with driving?

Armin looked into the rear mirror and was met with piercing blue eyes, already watching him.

Ones that were similar to his own eyes, but female features framed them.

Armin’s jaw opened; this nightmare was only getting ridiculous with each passing minute.

There was no way Annie Leonhart was in a police officer attire and driving this car.

But she took off the hat, flung it outside the window, and her golden locks flew around her face, and Armin wasn’t mistaken; it was her, and her only.

Annie put a shushing finger on her lips, before she turned her gaze back on the road.

Armin slanted back in the seat, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.

.

.

.

UM HELLO

ok wow I'm so excited that I've finally shared this with yall, it's really something new to me and certainly out of my comfort zone

I really hope you liked it and I hope I delivered the story in an understandable, clear way, because as I said, this is new to me, feedback is appreciated!!

OK HELLO GUYS COME JOIN ME ON TWITTER UWU

sometimes I post art there, warning: I'm not good at it

one last thing, this was written for Aruani week 2020 on tumblr, go through the hashtag and see what others created! really awesome art so I highly recommend

ok that's it have a good day/night

byyeeee

[nyullm2020]

How to Crush Law School Exams as an LL.M.

Hello again!

It’s been a minute. I’ve just had a well-deserved break after finishing my finals, where I managed to get a bit of sun in Florida and Puerto Rico.

It’s been a running start into my final semester of the LL.M. - and I can’t quite believe how fast this has all gone. I have a lot of content ideas coming up about everything I will be doing this semester, including juggling my internship at the Brooklyn District Attorney’s office, a Research Assistantship with an NYU Law Professor, the March Multistate Professional Responsibility Exam (MPRE) for the Bar, a full load of classes, and job hunting/networking - but first things first. I wanted to reflect on last semester’s exams, final papers and overall grades, and think about what I did well, and what I would change!

What are American law school exams like?

I’ll start by giving you an idea of the format of exams to give you an idea of the general approach, and hopefully take away some of the anxieties you as a future LL.M. might have.

There is no uniform exam or grading type for each and every course. American law school professors have a lot of discretion about how they will structure and assess their courses - including what mode of exam you will take (multiple choice, short answers, long problem question responses, policy-based essays, etc), or a final paper, and whether and to what extent class participation counts toward the grade. My assessments ran the gamut. In one class, I had a group assignment worth 30%, a 5,000 word final paper worth 60%, and 10% class participation, and in two others my final exam was worth 100%, with the professor’s discretion to slightly boost your grade based on your overall participation and contribution to the class. My Constitutional Interpretation seminar was 50% class participation, and 50% based on regular pieces of written work we handed in, including a final paper of 2,000 words.

Exams typically last between 2-4 hours, while take-homes take 3-8 hours (I haven’t had a take-home yet, but I will have a 12 hour take-home this semester). We all took our exams from home with a special software (Exam4 or the law school’s own exam software, THESS). Both my exams this semester allowed students to use any notes they wanted, and you could access the internet as well. The main problem with doing that is running out of time! So creating an organized outline of your notes and brainstorming essay ideas ahead of time is pretty crucial.

How do Professors grade? And what is a good grade?

Professors seem to have pretty broad discretion when it comes to grading - and definitely so when I think about Australian law school professors, who grade ‘blindly’ and never know who is behind the student number unless they look it up later, or are awarding prizes for the top students. The possible grades at NYU range from an F to an A+, as follows:

A+, 4.333; A, 4.000; A-, 3.667; B+, 3.333; B, 3.000; B-, 2.667; C, 2.000; D, 1.000 and F, 0.000.

No more than 2% of students can get an A+ in a given class, with a target of 1%. I am proud to say I was the only A+ student in one of my classes - yay! A huge personal achievement for me, and so I will brag a little here because I don’t want to be lame and brag in real life!

About 10% of people get As, and another 20% get A-s, and about 26% of people get B grades (B+, B, or B-). B- and C grades are actually pretty rare, so in all likelihood you will likely end up with an A or B grade of some sort!

It’s kind of hard to work out what ‘good’ grades/a strong GPA are for job applications, but from what I’ve gleaned, in an ideal world you would have all A level grades, or maybe one B+. Personally, my grades were an A+, 2 A- grades and a B+. This gave me a GPA of around 3.8, which is definitely decent for job applications. 

Your chances to get the high grades will depend a big deal on your competition - in the core doctrinal courses (like Constitutional Law, Free Speech, Evidence, Corporations Law, and so on) and in classes of the really famous professors, JD competition is intense. I definitely didn’t make it easy for myself with my classes, and I was usually the only, or one of two, LLMs, along with pretty ambitious JDs (often from elite undergrad schools) aiming for judicial clerkships or other prestigious jobs. Many LLMs have usually been working hard enough back home, and work hard enough to get decent grades, but leave enough time to relax and enjoy themselves. I would say my approach was mixed - I knew I needed to work hard enough to get good grades to make me a strong candidate for job applications in the US, but I also had plenty of fun. 😄 Just less fun around exam time!

On reflection, my top tips for doing well in your classes and exams would be:

1) Play to your strengths

At the time you select your classes, you’ll be able to see what the format of the assessment is - long paper, exam, practical assessments (like in a clinic or simulation course), etc. My top advice would be to think about your strengths when picking classes. 

I have always been much better at hand-in assignments, and my one A+ grade was from handing in a long paper. My lowest grade (a B+) was from a very time-pressured exam that I wasn’t happy with how I handled the timing. So - if you know you are much better at one type of assessment, make sure you are considering this when picking classes to pave the way for great grades, especially if you are relying on your grades for finding a new job or for a JSD application.

2) Understand your professor’s idiosyncratic preferences

When it comes to law school exams, the key to succeeding is really knowing who’s grading them. Some professors prefer you to be ‘quick and dirty’ and to really jump into the key issues and answers, while others prefer a more formalistic recitation of the rules and then a close application of the rules to the facts. Pay attention to how they explain what they want, pore over any model answers and exam keys they give you, be familiar with the way they write problems, and ideally hunt down past students’ papers with comments or overall feedback from the professor (if you know anyone that took the class before).

3) Make study enjoyable and social

Even in these COVID times, I really benefited from spending time at the library studying with LL.M. friends, and broke up study sessions with coffee hangs, lunches, and going to see the Christmas lights. Your friends will keep you sane and motivated, so don’t hide yourself away for the whole month or more!

Friends! A well-deserved dinner break in December a week or two before finals.

4) Argue both sides of legal issues you spot

This is something that is really emphasized by NYU professors. A good lawyer can, when identifying a legal issue, show how it is a weak point in a plaintiff’s claim or in a defendant’s defense, and then demonstrate how both sides could argue their case. The best answers don’t ‘fence sit’, but come to a reasoned judgment/prediction about which side of the argument is stronger.

5) Be precise and concise

You should try not to include unrelated material in your answer as this could backfire if your professor believes you struggle to separate relevant material from irrelevant material. One of my professors was clear ahead of time and said he did not appreciate an ‘info dump’ and graded accordingly, but I think this is true of all professors.

6) Be *really* aware of your timing

I can’t stress this enough. Effective time management is imperative on law school exams. My Evidence exam was so unbelievably time-pressured (27 short-answer questions in 3 hours = less than 7 minutes per question to read a few sentences-long question and answer it), and I did not handle this as well as I could have, affecting my grade. Make sure to be really aware of this and try to be strict with yourself so you don’t leave any questions untouched.

7) Remember public policy concerns

After applying the legal rules to the issues presented in your fact pattern, if time allows, include a sentence or two about the policy implications of your conclusions, or how your chosen approach fits best with the policy rationale underpinning the legal rule. This is something that is valued more in US law schools than my law school back home. Not critical, but definitely something that could boost your grade a little!

8) Just try your best, and don’t be too hard on yourself

We have all worked hard to be here, and we put a lot of pressure on ourselves. English might not be your first language, you might struggle with exams, or it might just not be the best day you’ve ever had. If you find yourself in the unfortunate position of either not understanding the issues presented in a question, or not remembering the rules related to such issues, just do your best to write the best possible answer in the time limit. 

Good luck, and let me know if you have any questions!

[mittensmorgul]

today on the TNT loop (which I slept through because migraine which is mildly better now, so I'm watching the blu ray today), 2.13 Houses of the Holy. Aka that one where Dean's skepticism is put to its first real challenge and he's left with a HUGE question he can't answer. It's also where I can clearly see Chuck at work in the narrative, directly challenging Dean's beliefs and forcing him to consider this.

DEAN: That's cute. I'm just saying, man, there's just some legends that you just, you file under "bullcrap". SAM: And you've got angels on the bullcrap list. DEAN: Yep. SAM: Why? DEAN (looks up): Because I've never seen one. SAM: So what? DEAN: So I believe in what I can see. SAM: Dean! You and I have seen things that most people couldn't even dream about. DEAN: Exactly. With our own eyes. That's hard proof, okay? But in all this time I have never seen anything that looks like an angel. And don't you think that if they existed that we would have crossed paths with them? Or at least know someone that crossed paths with them? No. This is a ... a demon or a spirit. You know, they find people a few fries short of a Happy Meal, and they trick them into killing these randoms

Troubled people are being visited by "an angel" giving them orders to carry out "divine will," stopping others from committing horrific acts against innocent people by killing them before they can hurt anyone else. Sam wants desperately to believe it's actually an angel, and he confesses to Dean that he does have faith in God and that he prays every day. We also learn that-- because Mary had faith, had always told Dean that "angels are watching over you"-- that Dean hasn't trusted in that faith since Mary died.

There's a lot in this episode that will become the framework for actual angels when they eventually show up, as well as Heaven itself. Think of this as a smaller-scale version of what we eventually learn Heaven is, in an "as above, so below" sort of way:

DEAN: But she seriously believes that she was ... touched by an angel? SAM: Yeah. Blinding light, feelings of spiritual ecstasy, the works. I mean, she's living in a locked ward and she's totally at peace.

But then they start looking into the person she killed, and discover a literal pile of skeletons buried in the man's basement.

SAM: So much for the innocent churchgoing librarian. DEAN: Yeah, well, whatever spoke to Gloria about this knew what it was talking about, I'll give you that.

But Dean is still convinced it's some sort of spirit, and not an actual angel. Sam desperately wants to believe.

DEAN: Huh. Well, I guess if you're gonna stab someone, good timing. I don't know, man, this is weird, you know? I mean, sure, some spirits are out for vengeance, but this one's almost like a do-gooder, you know? Like, like a -- SAM: Avenging angel? (DEAN turns away) Well, how else do you explain it, Dean? Three guys, not connected to each other, all stabbed through the heart? At least two were world-class pervs, and I bet if you dug deep enough on the other guy —

What they do discover is the connection between all the victims and angel-inspired killers. They all attend the same church, where a priest had been murdered for his car a few months earlier, right before these killings began.

So they go to the church to find the truth, under the false pretenses of wanting to join the parish. Irony much? Even after being caught out in the lie about the previous parish they attended, they persist.

FR. REYNOLDS: Yes. The victims were parishioners of mine, I'd known them for years. SAM: And the killers said that an angel made them do that? FR. REYNOLDS: Yes. Misguided souls, to think that God's messenger would appear and incite people to murder. It's tragic. DEAN: So you don't believe in those angel yarns, huh? FR. REYNOLDS: Oh, no, I absolutely believe. Kind of goes with the job description. SAM: (nodding to a painting on the wall) Father, that's Michael, right? FR. REYNOLDS: That's right. The archangel Michael, with the flaming sword. The fighter of demons. Holy force against evil. SAM: So they're not really the Hallmark card version that everybody thinks? They're fierce, right? Vigilant? FR. REYNOLDS: Well, I like to think of them as more loving than wrathful. But, uh, yes, a lot of Scripture paints angels as God's warriors. "An angel of the Lord appeared to them, the glory of the Lord shone down upon them, and they were terrified." (SAM nods, DEAN looks confused) Luke. Two nine.

(moment to remind everyone what Cas's opinion on Luke was, from 4.18, when Dean was incredulous about learning that Chuck was a prophet of the Lord to be protected: "You should've seen Luke." Apparently prophets are historically disaster humans...)

It's interesting that Sam and Dean come away from this conversation with such wildly different conclusions based on their own personal biases-- Sam's Faith vs Dean's Skepticism. And then after visiting Father Gregory's grave, it's Sam the "angel" chooses to speak to, using his will to believe against Sam, to manipulate him, just like he had with the other troubled people he talked into doing his bidding. Because that's what he'd done.

Father Gregory's spirit believed he was doing the Lord's will, using information gleaned from listing to confessions, and possibly gleaned after his death about the ongoing lives of these people. Like Sue Ann in 1.12, he chose troubled yet essentially good people (drug addicts, alcoholics, mentally ill people) to give this twisted shot at "redemption" to by committing murder in the name of God, killing people guilty of far, far worse crimes.  And post 14.20, I'm wondering if his spirit wasn't given just a bit more info about certain members of his parish specifically to push Sam and Dean into their own crises of faith, especially considering what has come after this.

This episode has always been a game changer with Dean's experience throughout-- refusing to believe in anything he hasn't witnessed with his own eyes. And it's Sam's first test of his own faith in God that shakes his belief in a higher power when he's experiencing so much doubt in himself already. In some ways, we learn that it's his hope that God and angels and good things exist that powers him through his self-doubt, his feelings of unworthiness and impurity and his own confusing powers. We'll see this aspect of Sam's will to believe in God play out over and over again-- being tested by all his life experiences afterward, from learning about the demon blood by the end of s2, to his months without Dean developing his powers, to s4 in believing he can turn his demon-granted powers into something GOOD by saving people's lives... everything that leads to Sam's downfall is directly tied to his need to believe that a divine force he prays to is actually answering his prayers for help. Right on through desperately wanting to believe it was God talking to him in s11 (it was Lucifer), and believing that Chuck might actually help them deal with Jack by healing instead of manipulating and killing. It's 14.20 that finally shattered Sam's belief.

FR. GREGORY: You can't understand it now. But the rules of man and the rules of God are two very different things. SAM: Those people. They're locked up. FR. GREGORY: No, they're happy. They've found peace, beaten their demons. And I've given them the keys to Heaven. FR. REYNOLDS: No. No, this is vengeance, it's wrong. Thomas, this goes against everything you believed. You're lost, misguided. FR. GREGORY: Father. No, I'm not misguided. FR. REYNOLDS: You are not an angel, Thomas. Men cannot be angels. FR. GREGORY: But . . . but I, I don't understand. You prayed for me to come. FR. REYNOLDS: I prayed for God's help. Not this. What you're doing is not God's will. "Thou shalt not kill". That's the word of God.

Heck, Chuck's said a lot of things over the years, hasn't he? He simultaneously ordered the angels to watch over and protect humanity, while leaving instructions for the Apocalypse. Two orders that directly contradict one another, on a very basic level. Yes, thou shalt not kill, but... there's always that caveat of "no, they're happy! they found peace in death! heaven awaits the righteous and that's where they'll eventually find happiness and peace! life on earth is irrelevant in the face of eternal rest despite any and all suffering experienced while alive!"

eta: also, “Men cannot be angels.” Well, Jack may have proven that wrong, but he had to destroy their human souls and warp them into angel grace, just as destroying human souls to warp them into demon smoke makes them no longer human. When we didn’t know this was possible, it was more a theological curiosity, but now? We can see it for the sinister implication of the bigger picture at play on Chuck’s level of the narrative. And it’s chilling.

But Dean? He had to be crushed, to be brought to the point where he doubted everything he's ever stood for, be forced to doubt his own free will and identity through repeated possession and manipulation by Michael to be brought to the point where he would even be willing to sacrifice himself and Jack both in the belief that he truly had no other choice, that his lifelong belief in his own autonomy was a sham and that God's Will was the only force to be obeyed. And even then, gun raised to Jack's head, he couldn't submit. But that seed of doubt was planted in this episode, watching a series of events he could not explain nor justify with his current understanding of reality. He couldn't even explain what he'd seen to Sam.

All he could say in the face of having stopped this man from committing assault (and possibly worse), ending in a car chase where the man is impaled through his chest by a flying piece of pipe flung from a passing truck, was "Holy..." After which he's forced to confront the evidence of his own eyes and find an explanation for what he's seen on his own. He still isn't comfortable declaring it's proof that God exists and interfering in human events, but it shakes him:

DEAN: Gregory's spirit gave you some pretty good information. That guy in the car was bad news. I barely got there in time. SAM: What happened? DEAN: He's dead. SAM: Did . . . you? DEAN: No. But I'll tell you one thing. If . . . The way he died, if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes I never would have believed it. I mean ... I don't know what to call it. SAM: What? Dean, what did you see? DEAN: Maybe . . . God's will.

The one thing Dean has yet to work out, once he's confronted with the reality of Angels, Heaven, and God's existence later down the line, is whether or not God's Will and God's Plans can even remotely be considered a good thing... and after 14.20, he's got the essential proof. "Good" and "Evil" become irrelevant in the face of that revelation. It becomes a case of Divine Manipulation vs Human Will, and the struggle for individual identity and free will in the face of some Grand Plan of the universe. Divine reward of peace and happiness in Heaven after a life of obedience and suffering? Nah, Dean wants his life back now. Screw the end of the road.

[holmesoverture]

The Christmas Party - Chapter 2

Eeeeep it’s been a week since I posted chapter one so I guess I better post chapter two lol

Link to Chapter One Link to more info on this universe

Warnings: Towards the end, one character starts to have a panic attack.  Also, since it’s 1881, there’s some outdated modes of thinking throughout; I think the worst offenders in this chapter are the unchecked colonialism and description of a mummy being unwrapped/desecrated.

As ever, if you see any booboos or feel like I’ve handled something insensitively, feel free to comment or send a message <3

*

The operating theatre was a large clean room with wooden floors and long wooden benches illuminated from behind by a series of large windows.  The room’s focus was a low operating table upon which a mummy, swathed in bandages grey and crumbling with age, had been laid out.  Beside the table stood Sir Gideon Hibbert, a small, ferret-like man with a well-trimmed beard and moustache a shade darker than the receding red hair atop his head.  His close-set brown eyes brimmed with delight as he greeted me, though I felt the sheer enthusiasm of his reaction would have been more appropriately directed at a relative who’d been presumed lost at sea for several decades.  Flustered by his attentions, I fell upon the one subject I thought stood a chance of distracting him.

“Have you had word from Alexander?” I said.

He’d had quite a few words, as it happened.  Upon the war’s end in September the previous year, Alexander Hibbert had gone on to South Africa and served under Major-General Colley.  After the convention of Pretoria he elected to remain in South Africa and establish there a home and a life of his own.

“I have every confidence in my boy,” Sir Gideon said, “but still I would have felt much calmer if you were there watching over him during the hostilities.”

I began to suspect Sir Gideon had confused me with the man whose birth we were set to celebrate, but I happily never had to find out as he introduced me to Professor Rodrick Angues, in whose honour the party was being held, and excused himself to greet some new arrivals.  Professor Angues was a large and courteous man with slicked black hair who performed the usual social niceties with the ease of long practice.

“So what do you think of our special guest, Doctor?” said he, indicating the mummy.  “Sir Gideon purchased him from a merchant during his last trip to Thebes especially for this occasion.”

“I’m afraid I am not well-versed in Egyptology, but from a medical standpoint this event should prove most interesting.”

Professor Angues smiled blandly and agreed that it would. In defiance of his manners and his congenial appearance I thought I detected something unctuous about him, and I was not sorry when we were urged to take our seats so the operation could begin.

The event progressed slowly at first, as Sir Gideon and his assistants required a hammer and a chisel to remove the first layers of resin-coated bandages, but once they broke through, the remainder of the afternoon passed with extraordinary rapidity.  Several people were overcome by the odour of decaying flesh and had to leave before the end.  I placed a handkerchief over my nose and mouth and was rewarded for my endurance with the sight of a man, four millennia gone but remarkably preserved, with coarse hair sparsely covering his scalp and a full set of teeth of which many a living man would be envious.  I wondered what else might be gleaned from this astonishing specimen.  Its age?  Its cause of death?  Its occupation?  With a wistful sigh, I reflected that Holmes would probably have told me all of that and more before I had thought to wonder about them.  Perhaps I could leverage Sir Gideon’s disproportionate goodwill towards me and arrange for a private examination of our mutual Egyptian friend at a later date.

Of greater interest to the Egyptomaniacs than the mummy itself were the dozen or so charms hidden within the many layers of bandages. The former and small snippets of the latter were distributed amongst the appreciative audience.  I pressed the delicate scrap of fabric into my notebook.

We did not linger very long in the now pungent chamber, hurrying into our coats and wraps and gratefully stepping into the foggy twilight.  Those of us invited to Sir Gideon’s Christmas party gathered outside of the hospital and employed a small fleet of cabs to convey us there.

Sir Gideon owned an extravagant white stucco house in Lowndes Square.  We were shown into a cosy parlour with cloth-lined shelves full of relics from his many expeditions.  Canopic jars, fortunately emptied and scrubbed clean, amulets, knives, and jagged shards of pottery were all neatly arranged in no particular order for the guests to peruse at their leisure as they were attended to by their illustrious host and hostess.

While Sir Gideon had had variable luck with his sons, with his daughter Philomena, a plump strawberry-blonde with bright pink cheeks, I could find not a single fault, and I was delighted when she seemed to take a special liking to me.  Her duties as hostess, which had prevented her from attending the unrolling, similarly prevented her from devoting herself to me fully but she kept me by her side always, taking my arm and showing me around the parlour.

“It is the least I can do for the man who ensured I would be able to hold my dear brother once again,” she said.  I tried to say that she owed me nothing but she wouldn’t hear of it, and I confess that I did not try as hard to disentangle myself as I should have had she been less comely.  It was not as though listening to her speak was any great hardship. Miss Hibbert’s knowledge of Egyptology was nearly as exhaustive as her father’s, and she related to me the origins of every artifact in which I expressed even the slightest interest.

“Oh, this one!” she cried, lifting a pale green figurine, no more than twelve or so centimetres, with column after column of hieroglyphics decorating its robe.  “This is an ushabti.  The ancient Egyptians did not believe life after death to be the lovely endless paradise that we English do.  They thought there was much work to be done in the afterlife, such as ploughing and cooking and so forth, but since no one liked the idea of eternal work, they created the ushabtis to do the work for them.  Whenever a man died, especially if he was a wealthy man, he was buried with one or more of these little figures with the expectation that they would come to life and do his share of work when they arrived in the hereafter.”

“Perhaps I ought to stock up on a few,” I said, “in the event that the ancient Egyptians had the right idea.”

Miss Hibbert laughed and we moved on to a flint knife with an extravagantly detailed ivory handle.  Eventually Miss Hibbert had to leave me to allow Professor Angues to escort her into the dining-room.  I escorted Miss Linwood, a cousin of the Hibberts.  She was darker and more severe-looking than our hostess, though her amber eyes held the same spark of intelligence.  Despite being almost total strangers, we suffered no awkwardness as we entered the mauve and mahogany dining-room.  I was seated to Miss Hibbert’s left, with Miss Linwood on my other side and Professor Angues directly across from me.  Almost immediately thereafter, two parlour-maids entered with the first course.  Miss Hibert had told me she hired them especially for the party for their experience in serving at large social gatherings.  I had little familiarity with such events, but to my callow eye they appeared prim and lovely and proper.

One of the maids placed a porcelain tureen upon the sideboard while the other, very much taller than the first, placed a small decanter of sherry at each end of the table.  When everything for the first course had been laid out they silently vanished, leaving us to confront the molokheyyah, a vegetable soup of Egyptian origin that Sir Gideon had discovered and very much enjoyed on one of his many adventures.  I could not but wish he had left it where he had found it, and I was much relieved and still very hungry when the soup was replaced by a more English dish of roast turkey.

I cannot with any certainty explain what happened next, or why.  Perhaps it was the strangeness of attending a party after spending so long in relative solitude, or the refreshed memory of the smell of the dead, or the row with Holmes. I only know that I found myself falling prey to an inexplicable disquiet.  My heart gained speed, pounding as though I were surrounded by wild tigers rather than civilised men.  The conversation around me surged into a crescendo that would rival any cannon and I tightened every muscle to keep from covering my ears, causing my fork to jitter against the plate.  My other hand encircled my thigh, fingertips digging into scar tissue until it throbbed and pulsed in protest.  The table tilted.  The air was too thin to fill my lungs.  Everything spun slowly sideways.  The rapidly receding part of my consciousness that still could think clearly was convinced accepting Sir Gideon’s invitation was a horrible mistake, and then one of the parlour-maids collapsed at the sideboard.

*

Historical Notes

Convention of Pretoria  – The peace treaty that ended the First Boer War, fought between the Boers and the British from December 1880 to March 1881

[dragonprincefan]

Hey everyone. We still have a few days until SDCC and the preview and first in depth introduction to Wonderstorm & Netflix’s #TheDragonPrince.

Here’s a few things we can glean from what info has been put forth.

Based in the November 2017 Polygon article introducing the new company, Wonderstorm, we can expect the story is being simultaneously developed as both an episodic show and a video game. They’ll be working together tightly to ensure the stories of both interweave and overlap for a cohesive whole rather than contradict each other. 

We can also assume it’s going to have in depth world-building, attention to detail and to secondary characters.

They’re working hard.

We don’t know yet if the animation will be 2D, 3D, or a combination of both. Following some of the cast and crew on twitter, they’ve mentioned they’ve partnered with Canadian animation studio Bardel Entertainment. If you hop over to that link you can see a demo reel of thier work which is a skillful mix of 2D and 3D animation experience in a wide variety of art styles. From Prince of Egypt, Anastasia,and Space Jam to Rick & Morty, Teen Titans Go, TMNT, Puss in Boots, and The Prophet. There’s no telling what we can expect.

There’s been indication where will be a preview at the SDCC panel and whether that’s storyboards and character designs, video clips, or a full episode remains to be seen. The panel description hints that we can expect The Dragon Prince to premiere on Netflix sometime in September 2018.

The artist behind that attention grabbing promotional poster is Tim Kaminski (check out more at his website). I’ve been RTing excitement from several members of the Dragon Prince cast and crew on twitter, and you can get an idea of all the amazingly talented people who have been working on it since 2015 there.

It’s worth noting the dragon in the promo poster has uneven horns/head frills with one either grown strangely or long ago broken and healed. That’s probably going to be a story in and of itself.

Really, we don’t have names or even definite genders for any of our lead trio yet. Two human princes and an elfin assassin is intentionally vague. The official summary gave no pronouns for any of the characters, and since they’re building thier own world and the word “prince” was once used for either sex, it might not be that our “princes” are male. Regardless, I’m excited to see what more we will learn at the SDCC panel. 

It’s too early to assume much of anything yet.

The official tagline for the show, as put forth on social media is:

“Destiny is a book you write yourself!”

That promises to me some breaking of typical expectations.

Like the cast and crew behind the show, I’m looking forward to what sort of show this is and how the fandom will receive it.

Anyways. DRAGON. BIG.

[ninjagoland-a-summer-rp-event]

✨Ninjagoland pt 3.5: A Hasty Yet Action-Packed Transition!✨

"Nice try!" I jeered at the nindroid that'd failed to punch me. This was actually pretty fun, being in a fight alongside one of my fave ninja!

I attempted to return the favor, smacking it squarely in the head! But that ended up hurting me more so than it.... should've remembered it was completely made of metal...

At the instant, the gantry finally plunged! The sheer force of the fall launched Zane and some of the enemies into the cart's ceiling! The impact caused the already short-circuiting Nindroids to begin shooting lasers wantonly down at us!

I screamed and wrapped my arms over my head, hoping to shield myself somewhat from the blasts!

As luck would have it, no one's skin got scorched in the fray.......

But the stray rays had severed everyone's seat belts!!!!

"Hold on tight!" Zane called as he descended from the ceiling grate, "I'll try to find us a way out of here!"

The gantry wiggled for a bit at this stop, giving Zane just enough time to rid the vehicle of a few intruders by tossing them out of the open doors.

Then before we knew it, we were shooting up again, almost to the top! We could see the whole of the park from this open set of doors, but we were too petrified to enjoy the view!

Then, right as the ride cameras flashed, we plunged again, fighting to stay grounded as gravity forced us into mid-air!

"That's going to be some photo..." I quipped, trying to remain calm.

It now seemed like the gantry was free of Nindroids, save for the Ice Master himself. The ride pulled a wiggly-stop again before shooting upward once more, this time all the way to the top!

The lift locked into a hard stop, jarring us around. What now!?!?

None other than General Cryptor himself had pounced onto the top of the vehicle! Zane glared up through the metal bars at his new opponent, ready to strike should the other Nindroid make a move on us.

"Farewell, traitors!" Cryptor said, staring daggers down on us. He seemed to be referring to not only the Ice Master but Mr. Borg as well.

Then, he used his laser and shot the main lift cables on the gantry! Cryptor collapsed after the shot, apparently that had taken the last of his battery power.

We were now screaming down the track, both literally and figuratively, in full free fall!!!! There was no stopping the force of the drop as it ripped us all out of our seats, now left floating in mid-air! Normally the ride's brakes would catch us, but everything in the system no longer had any power running to it at all!

"I'm going to try and lessen our impact," Zane called to us, "NINJA-GO!"

With that famous battle cry, Zane focused his full icy power on the underside of the cart, as well as the sides and some of the air holes in the cage-like metal. He was essentially making an ice cocoon around us, with it being a thick enough buffer for us to land somewhat safely! But time wasn't on our side as the ground continued to speed towards us.....

The second to last floor was rushing by now. I was screaming my head off, mentally cursing myself for unwittingly ushering all of you guys onto a death trap!

Suddenly, a strange blue glow enveloped the cart. Then, an odd feeling washed over me. It was as though the world was in slow motion!

Apparently, it actually WAS!

Acronix himself launched into the gantry from seemingly out of nowhere, brandishing the Slo-Mo Timeblade! Despite our now sluggish state of hovering, he swiftly backflipped, grabing Cyrus Borg out of the air and slinging the inventor over his shoulder in the process! He cockily bowed at all of us before leaping out of the open doors, surely planning on vanishing into the crowds below. Zane missed this spectacle, for he had been looking at the ground when we got hit by the effects of the Timeblade.

Fortunately, the near-stop had slowed us down immensely, the gantry landing with only a sharp thud as opposed to the mangled crash it would've been otherwise.

~~~~~~~

"Brother!" Acronix called, grinning ear to ear as he returned to the hideout, "Look what I've found!"

"Excellent!" Krux replied, tucking his fake mustache away, "Not only have you reclaimed a Timeblade, but found the one person who can quickly repair the Iron Doom!"

"Who are you people!?" Borg asked in a mix of confusion and anger, "What is an 'Iron Doom'!?"

"We are the Time Twins, the future rulers of Ninjago!" Acronix boasted as he sat the inventor down on the ground, "The Iron Doom is, well, that hunk of smoking metal over there; but surely you'll know how to get it fit for time travel again."

"I can't believe you're falling for this," Krux interjected, "the man's clearly playing dumb."

"I honestly have no clue how to fix your apparent temporal plane-traveling war machine!" Borg responded, getting increasingly freaked out, "Even if I could fix it, I want nothing to do with whatever you two are planning!"

"Oh really!? Let's see how quickly you remember things when you're under Commander Machia's direct supervision!" Acronix threatened.

While his brother bickered with their captive, Krux began to suspect something was massively wrong. Borg, although incredibly smart, wasn't this good of an actor in any prior encounters that the elder Time Twin could recall.

"Mr. Borg," Krux said sharply, silencing the ceaseless arguing, "tell me, how many ninja protect Ninjago City?"

"Why should I?!" Borg replied.

"I am trying to find out if you are the right person we're after," Krux said, now cradling a temple with his palm, "now, how many ninja are there?"

"F-four." Borg answered, "Wait! Actually five. There was a recent addition, I believe."

"Thank you," Krux said, learning all he needed to know, "Brother, a word?"

The duo stepped out of their captive's listening range for a moment to discuss the info the Krux had apparently gleaned.

"Congratulations," Krux began, "you've managed to capture Cyrus Borg, circa 2013!!! Who come to think of it, shouldn't even be here, because this park isn't even in Ninjago!"

"So what realm are we in then?" Acronix replied.

"Apparently it's called Earth." Krux answered, "I found that out at this place's pathetic excuse for a museum. With the fact that Borg's not only here, but not even from the same year, I can only assume there's an issue with the time stream. This doesn't bode well...."

~~~~~~~

Zane had lifted us all one-by-one from the totaled ride cart to safety, and was leading us to the exit. We shuffled on, still a bit shaken from the experience. In time, we were back out in the sunshine.

"Are you all sure you're alright?" Zane asked us. We reassured him we were fine, despite our shock.

Satisfied with the state of our wellbeing, Zane was about to take his leave when P.I.X.A.L. returned, brandishing a techno chain-sickle! Zane expertly dodged her Overlord-fueled ambush and instead of returning the blow, gently touched the very tip of his Technoblade to her forehead. A small flash of icy light appeared and when it dissipated, we found that P.I.X.A.L's eyes had returned to their usual bright green!

"Zane?" She gasped as she lowered her weapon, confused as to what transpired.

"Everything is alright," Zane said, "however, we must find the others. Sorry there's not much time to explain."

They took each others hands and sprinted in the direction of Cars Land, leaving us all stunned in their wake.

"Well, this day couldn't get any weirder..." I muttered.

But it was definitely about to!

"Hello?" P.I.X.A.L.'s voice was calling from my pocket, "Can anyone read me!?"

I pulled out my phone, and we all crowded around to be met by the sight of her face on the screen; only she was in her new Samurai X gear!

"We read you loud and clear!" One of us responded.

"Thank the FSM!" The nindroid replied frantically, "We've been tracking the Time Twins, and just discovered that they've landed in your realm! We have no idea how this happened, but temporal anomalies have been happening with increasing frequency here in Ninjago, and could already be happening in your world too! We can't reach you, but you can help us! Please, find and stop these slips in the time stream! If they aren't fixed soon, the fabric of our realms WILL collide, with catastrophic res-!"

Unfortunately, the signal cut out before she could explain farther. We all glanced at each other, the events of our ride gone wrong suddenly making sense.

Silently, it appeared that we all agreed to accept the insane mission: hunt down the Time Twins and stop their mysterious plans!

But where would we start looking?

That answer came quickly, via a notification from the park app: "Indiana Jones and the Temple of the Forbidden Eye has returned to normal operations."

~~~~~~~~~

We practically sprinted through the crowds, not fully sure what we had gotten ourselves into by the time we finally hit Adventureland.

We drew our passes and began our walk down the super long queue. As we got closer to the first temple building, it was starting to dawn on us that we had zero clue as to what we were actually looking for!

The crowd was unusually backed up, even taking into account how people mob the rides the second they come back up. The source of the setback was apparently a small boy, whose crazy enough to be wearing a black hoodie in 80 degree heat, arguing with a cast member.

"What do you mean I have to have a 'FastPass'!?" The child said snidely, "Do you know who I am!?"

"Kid," the cast member dryly responded, "I've heard that one at least 10 times today. Now please get in the correct line."

"Well, if that's how you want to play, you should get to knowing then!" The child bellowed, "I am LLOYD GARMADON! Son of the terrifying LORD GARMADON! And I'll go wherever I WANT TO!"

Hearing that startling announcement, I turned to you guys.

"Looks like we kinda found what we're looking for;" I said, "any clue as to what we should do?"

@geekywinemom @kaospersona @ninjagofanficsandart @ninjago-hiveswap @lindsey-chr-not-found

[mclaughlin72santos-blog]

The aim of seo would be to boost a website's chance of getting found on search engines like google. This gleans more visitors, which may convert into profits for internet site users. The advice you will be about to study around will help you in search engine marketing.

To completely get ahead from the internet organization video game and generate a high rating for the company, it is imperative that you find out about Html code headline and Meta labels. Domino 99 need to learn how to use them for your own personal web site and in addition which labels the competitors are utilizing. With a small amount of investigation, you can expect to swiftly understand on how to use top quality tag and eventually earn better location. To create your website more "crawl-equipped" for search engines like google, you ought to make sure that your website includes a total site guide. Unless you understand how to make 1, you will discover cost-free site chart making resources on-line. Producing your blog far more online search engine warm and friendly will give you an improved chance of growing your site's rankings. Record your visitors. Do this by examining your referrer logs. Things you need to be aware of consist of what key phrases individuals are using to get your web site searching engines and what websites are recommending you. Take advantage of this information to boost circulation by way of these routes and perhaps increase the. Almost every present day web page will depend on template html coding like CSS. To improve a page's impact on search engine rating, great site owners will keep CSS computer programming over a independent site off their articles. Furthermore this let several webpages to research just one CSS data file, but search engines will crawl content material webpages quicker when they will not consist of CSS info. Be descriptive with your links, whether they are video, banner, written text, or visuals. No-one will be curious about clicking a web link that only affirms "Click me." They wish to understand what they are getting their selves into! With your key phrases from the description may also bump you on the search engine databases, it is therefore a win-win! Proofreading is the central element of every single website, nevertheless it normally is neglected. You ought to carefully go through every one of the written text on your own internet site to ensure that it can be plausible and fault cost-free, which means your site visitors and look engines can certainly comprehend it. Search engines like yahoo are more inclined to ignore your website or provide it with a small rating if search phrases are misspelled or even your content material features several conspicuous grammatical errors. Review click via patterns to discover the way your buyers end up buying (or otherwise not). There is computer software that will path each click visitors make. When you see which a particular site is major several clients to your purchase, look at so that it is more prominent on the web site and making use of related terminology on other web pages of the web site. Once you have picked your key words plus your internet pages are ready to go, get listed in the ideal directories. Being placed in directories is free of charge ,and they are generally utilized by the major search engines like yahoo to create their own personal directories. It's believed when you get indexed in the most effective web directories, you will certainly be extremely positioned in the search engines. A very simple strategy for Search engine optimization is to try using your very own site to improve visitors. Utilize the integration of interior back links in your internet site. Produce inbound links for your archives typically, but ensure that the hyperlinks you are supplying are appropriate on the details the readers are searching for. Obtaining your web site outlined by Yahoo and other search engines like yahoo assures that you more trips. Listing your property web page very first and include other web pages if possible. Describe your internet site with all the appropriate key word. The better appointments you get, the bigger your website can look within the listing of comes from the search engines. Make certain that the websites you connect to are of top quality. Search engines like google evaluate you do not only on your own backlinks, but also on your own outbound hyperlinks. If you're connecting to spammy web sites, or websites that happen to be considered below page rank deserving, it could drag your position straight down along with it. Don't get involved in link swaps that you swap with tons of internet sites. Changing backlinks ought to be done among two web sites, no more, so that the hyperlinks produced are seen as genuine by the search engines. They don't see website link farms as legitimate, therefore the time you spend getting the hyperlink on a single will probably be wasted. Your ultimate goal ought to always be to attain quite high positioning on search engines like google, however you cannot travel blindly and wish that your website is in some way plucked from obscurity. You have to stick to excellent advice similar to this, in order to put together an effective plan of attack so that your web site generates great positioning.

[zacekova]

Everything’s Fine (Really) chapter 3

First - Previous - Next

“Don’t forget the meetings,” Zen said, arms crossed as he watched Mitsuhide remove Obi’s cuffs for the last time. “If you miss any of them I’ll put out a warrant for your arrest before you can blink.”

Obi rubbed at his wrists and grinned. “You got it, Master.”

Zen stared at him, a single eyebrow twitching, and shook his head. “Alright, get out of here.”

Obi fired off a two-fingered salute and turned to Shirayuki with a gleam in his eye. “I’ll see you Friday, then, Miss.”

It wasn’t a question but Shirayuki nodded anyway, caught by his gaze. “Yeah, Friday.”

They watched each other, eyes swimming with curiosity, anticipation, uncertainty, and Obi turned away and sauntered out through the lobby doors.

“Zen, are you sure about this?” Mitsuhide asked.

Zen sighed and crossed his arms. “Not really, but it’s the best option we have. He’s got direct access to some of the most powerful people in the underground. It would take my other informants months to get the kind of info he could probably glean in a matter of hours. If we don’t want anymore bodies we have to trust him, at least enough to get us the intel we need.”

“But will he keep Shirayuki safe?” Kiki asked.

The three of them turned to look at her and Shirayuki wanted to hide. The intensity of their concern was stifling after so many years of being mostly on her own. It was reassuring, comforting, most of the time but it came across like they didn’t trust her, didn’t believe Shirayuki could take care of herself.

It was intimidating, too, although it was probably warranted this time around. They didn’t know nearly enough about Obi to know whether he was trustworthy or not, whether they were getting sucked into the trap of some larger scheme or if he would simply run back and spill the whole story to his boss. In which case they would lose the advantage and possibly their entire chance at catching whoever was responsible. Not to mention the danger that would pose to Shirayuki if Obi kept up the ruse of being their contact. He could very easily turn on them at a moment’s notice at little risk to himself.

And, well. Gang members weren’t always the nicest guys. Shirayuki could get hurt in ways that had nothing to do with the case, too, if Obi was less than respectful toward woman.

But… something had flashed across his face when Zen asked how they could trust someone who worked for Umihebi, something like anger. Not rage, not defensiveness, something more… righteous. Like he was angry to be accused of something so low, of being compared to someone like that. Which didn’t explain how he could stand to work for Umihebi if he did feel that way, but the emotion was sincere. There was no definitive evidence to say so, but something in her gut said it was true.

Shirayuki believed him.

“I don’t think he has any desire to hurt me,” she said. “Or for me to get hurt.”

Zen’s gaze darted over her face, searching, and he sighed. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking, though I’ll hold my breath about the rest of it. Guess we’ll just cross our fingers and hope for the best.”

~~~

Friday came quickly. There were literal mountains of lab work to be done for the other teams at the precinct and Shirayuki filled her spare moments with trying to identify the mysterious compound. Not that there were many of those - spare moments.

Her shoulders and neck ached from hunching over documents and microscopes, her eyes burned from the overhead lights in autopsy and the glare of computer screens, and the call of her bed every night had never sounded so tempting but the poor thing had gotten barely more than a drive-by snooze all week. It would be appalled to know how much attention she’d been giving to her desk chair and the cot in Garrack’s office.

Today was the first time since the weekend Shirayuki had woken up in her own bed past dawn, ordered home late the night before by a hovering Zen.

“Consider tomorrow a personal day. Unless there’s some time-sensitive information that needs to passed along, just update me on Monday morning. And don’t come back on Saturday. I’ll kick you right back out the door myself.”

Shirayuki smiled at the memory of the determined gleam in his eye, running a brush through her hair while she waited for the shower to warm up. It would be time to go meet Obi soon.

~~~

Shirayuki glanced at the sign and back down to the scrap of paper in her hand, a hastily-scribbled address in Zen’s chicken scratch that matched the number on the plaque screwed to the doorframe. The bell over the door tinkled as someone walked out, a steaming paper cup gripped in their hand like a lifeline.

Her first fake date was in a coffee shop. Figures.

Shirayuki sighed and pushed her way inside, taking in the bistro tables and metal chairs against the front window, the plush booths and bookshelves along the walls, and the couches scattered around the main floor. It was cozy, warm.

Obi’s shock of messy black hair was nowhere to be seen so she went to the front counter to order and claimed a booth in the back corner while she waited for him.

It didn’t take long. The door chimed barely two minutes later and Shirayuki glanced up, green eyes connecting with gold from across the room.

Obi grinned and swaggered over to the table, resting his hip against it and crossing his arms. “So, you come here often?”

Shirayuki snorted and gave him a flat look. “No.”

His grin grew. “No? So where do you spend your free time?”

“My bed,” Shirayuki started.

Obi’s eyes flashed.

“Sleeping,” she finished.

Obi’s shoulders slumped and he looked down at her with a quirked brow. “You’re not so good at this flirting thing, Miss.”

Shirayuki’s brow furrowed. “We’re not here to flirt, Obi.”

Obi leaned down, bracing his hand on the table and catching her gaze with glittering, mischievous eyes. “That doesn’t mean we can’t,” he said, low and sultry.

It teased her skin into shivering, vibrating through the air and skittering along the gooseflesh. Shirayuki swallowed, trying to ignore the way it made her insides warm, and forced a glare. “Obi.”

He chuckled, straightening. “Alright, fine. But we are supposed to be pretending to be interested in each other, you know. You need to work on staying in character.”

Shirayuki watched him, taking in the easy way he leaned against the table, the stretch of his shirt over his chest, the strong line of his jaw.

Yeah, pretending to be interested wasn’t going to be a problem. At the same time it was the problem. She huffed. “Just… go get a drink or something. We need to sit here for awhile.”

He gave a little salute and headed toward the counter and Shirayuki sank her head onto the table with a sigh. The problem with this whole thing, the biggest problem, was that Shirayuki was interested. Obi was charming, rugged and cheerful and sharp-edged. And sexy, god he was sexy.

And Shirayuki was supposed to be a professional. And this was not a real relationship. And Obi seemed to flirt with everyone equally and what were the chances he would be interested in Shirayuki of all people and this was not an appropriate situation to be hoping for a date in the first place. A real date. This whole thing was a cover for a very real problem that Shirayuki was supposed to be focusing on. Not mooning over some guy’s biceps and attractive smile.

She needed to keep some distance between them, maintain the proper perspective.

Obi slid onto the bench across from her, cup in hand, the scent of coffee beans drifting over the wood table. “So, any word from Master?” he asked.

Shirayuki’s brow furrowed. “Why do you call him that?”

Obi blinked. “What, ‘Master?’”

“Yeah, that,” Shirayuki nodded. “You’re not even an actual employee, let alone his slave or something.”

Obi shrugged. “‘Master’ is about as common as ‘Boss’ for the mob heads, so it’s kind of a habit to label anyone in charge with one or the other.” His eyes skittered away and he chewed on his lip, fingers clenching around his cup. “And he said he would help me,” he murmured.

“He hasn’t really done anything yet, though,” Shirayuki said.

Obi’s smile was grim, bitter. “It’s been enough. More than I’m used to. I feel like I already owe him this much.”  

Shirayuki’s stomach churned, wondering how much kindness this man had been shown in his life to date. “And if he does help you?” she asked. “What then?”

“I was taught to take a life debt seriously,” Obi answered.

Which didn’t really answer the question, except that it did and Shirayuki’s stomach churned at what he was implying about what he’d been taught about owing people. She pushed away the desire to delve deeper, to snoop around in a history that wasn’t any of her business, and took a sip of her drink. “To answer your question, no, nothing new from Zen. Today’s just supposed to be a chance for the two of us to make a more detailed plan of where and when we‘re going to meet. And to make sure you were going to keep up with the agreement in the first place.”

Obi’s grin was sharp, brittle, but something like resignation lingered in his eyes. “You guys thought I’d bail,” he said.

Shirayuki shrugged. “I didn’t.” She ignored the way his eyes widened and dug around in her pocket for a rough schedule she had drawn up of her typical weekly routine and pushed it across the table. “I work into the evenings a lot but I’m usually free on Sundays and I can take my breaks outside the precinct. I don’t really go anywhere besides work, home, and the grocery store so I’m thinking lunch dates would probably be the best way to meet.”

Obi skimmed over the page and nodded, a tension she hadn’t noticed before easing from his frame. “So what I’m hearing is that I’m going to have to plan all of our dates or they’re going to be totally boring.”

Shirayki flushed. “Excuse me?”

Obi’s eyes sparkled, his blinding grin returning at full force. “You’re life is totally lame right now, isn’t it?” he asked. “Do you even have any friends?”

She opened her mouth-

“Outside of work?” he interrupted.

She closed her mouth.

He smirked. “I thought so. We need to get you out more, Miss. This is a travesty, ” he said, waving the paper around for emphasis. “The fact that you took the time to make it is even worse.”

Shirayuki huffed, sipping from her cup with as much disdain as she could muster. “There’s nothing wrong with being organized.”

Obi shook his her mournfully. “You poor thing. And so young, too.”

Shirayuki slammed her cup down and lunged, tearing the paper out of his hand. She crumpled it up and tossed it over the back of the booth. “There, no more schedule. Happy now?”

Obi’s eyes glittered. “Very.”

She hid the smile tugging at her lips in her hand, cupping her chin and resting her elbow on the table. “Fine then, fake boyfriend, where should we go for our next fake date?”

“Hmm, let me think about it,” Obi said. “How about we get to know each other a little so I can plan better?”

Shirayuki shrugged. “Okay. What do you want to know?”

Obi settled back in the booth, the pleather creaking as he shifted. “What’s your favorite color?”

Shirayuki bit back a smile. “My favorite color?”

“It’s a legitimate question!” Obi said.

She chuckled. “Fine. Okay, umm. I don’t know, brown?”

Obi’s brow quirked. “Brown?”

“What, now you’re going to object to my color preferences too?” Shirayuki asked.

Obi raised his hands in defence. “No, no, brown is fine! It’s a lovely color. Very earthy and… brown.”

“Don’t strain yourself.”

Obi threw a napkin at her.

She laughed, batting it away. “What’s your favorite color?”

Obi huffed, his arms crossed and nose turned up,but muttered “green,” his gaze flicking to hers before he snatched his cup up from the table and chugged the rest of its contents.

She flushed, wondering if he was talking about her eyes, before internally reprimanding herself. This isn’t a romance novel.

Obi set his cup down and rested his palm over the lid, thumbing at the paper sleeve. “So why’d you become a police officer, Miss?”

Shirayuki shrugged, shoving aside the budding curiosity over whether Obi might be interested in her like she was in him. “I wanted to feel closer to my dad.”

“Is he dead?” Obi asked, no hesitation over the bluntness of it.

Shirayuki shook her head and offered a smile. “No, not dead. He sent me to live with my grandparents after my mom died so I don’t get to see him much. But I’ve always admired him and wanted him to be proud of me.” Obi’s eyes were heavy on her, focused, and she turned away from the intensity of it. “What about you, any family?”

Obi shrugged, releasing her from his gaze. “Not really.”

Her heart clenched. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged again. “It’s fine.” He made a show of pulling his phone out of his pocket, checking the time. “I think I need to get going, Miss. Got some stuff to take care of.” His tone was relaxed, casual. Too casual. He smiled at her but it didn’t look right on his face, not like his usual cocky grins. “How about we just say same place and time for next week and take care of the details then?”

Shirayuki bit her lip, wanting to apologize again for having crossed a line, for digging into his personal life, but it wasn’t like she could have known it would bother him. She nodded. “Sure, Obi, that sounds fine.”

He pushed up from his seat and nodded, tapping his fingers to the table once before walking off. The door chimed on his way out and Shirayuki watched him jog across the street and walk down the road until he was out of sight.

Well. It could’ve been worse.

[azeemmohammedglasgow7]

Azeem Mohammed glasgow Lead Generation Advice You Need To Know

Azeem Mohammed glasgow Top service provider. If you run a business, you know how hard it can be to glean potential customers. However, you can create sales leads by knowing how to market correctly. This guide gives you the basic tips you need to experience success. Keep reading to find out what you need to know.

Be careful about buying email lists to use for lead generation. A lot of companies swear their lists are fresh, but quite often 30% or more of the names you are purchasing will be out of date. Prior to purchasing, negotiate with the list selling company in regard to this. You should get a partial refund if a percentage this high is noticed.

Lead generation is more prone to happen if you're seen as trustworthy. Do not use those "screaming" ads or do anything cheesy that incorporates too much hype. Rather, give your consumers a sense of value when it comes to your offers. You will appear more trustworthy.

Don't forget about having a follow-up plan. Once you have generated some leads, it is important to remember that you need to turn those leads into paying clients or customers. Have a plan in place so that you can begin that work as soon as you get some quality leads.

Open up your business to the world. There are events such as Doors Open at which businesses allow customers to come in and see how they work. Even if you're an architect or real estate agent, you can let potential customers in to see how organized and authentic you really are, which can generate leads.

Use your phone to make calls and see if people need what you have to sell. There are many people that may need what you are offering. Regardless of the product, there is a customer base, but you have to look for them.

Azeem Mohammed glasgow Expert tips provider. If you have not been tapping into the power of social media enough, then it's time to expand your efforts. There are cost efficient social media campaigns you can run on the most popular sites, and ways to really make content go viral. All of your customer base is there to help you share what you can do for your new customers.

You have competitors, but you also have companies within your industry that are complement your business. Therefore, network with these companies so that you can exchange leads. This can be a great method to help gain new customers and strengthen your business niche in general for repeated business later on.

Absolutely every site you have up, whether a blog forum or regular content page or your main site, there should be contact information, social media plugins and opt in suggestions. These need to be strategically located and should be placed on every page so that people know how they can stay connected with you.

If you're waiting in line, talk to the person next to you. It never hurts to be friendly, and it's just possible someone might need your product or service. Try to gauge their interest before giving them a sales pitch. Being overbearing is a great way to scare people off.

When you blog for your business, make sure you seek out subscriptions. Subscribing means that readers will receive reminders to share your content or visit your blog. This is a back-up method in getting new leads through people who are your current customers. Blogging is another way to get your name out there.

Customer referrals are one thing, and a referral program can definitely work. But, take things a step further by asking your customer base to provide testimonials. This can really work out for you, as people read through these reviews often to determine if they want to do business with a company.

Azeem Mohammed glasgow Most excellent service provider. Never overlook or underestimate a lead source. You will have many avenues for gathering leads such as buying or self-gathering or even word-of-mouth. Always look at each avenue for validity. Buying leads can be a great way to jump start your efforts, but they may not be the same quality leads you gain from a targeted effort.

Use social media. From Twitter to Facebook, you should everything available. Try using diverse campaigns to understand what does works and what does not.

Don't overlook the concept of actually paying for quality leads. It can take some time to generate leads on your own using SEO or pay-per-click methods, but paying for leads can help get your business off the ground. If you are looking to pay for leads, make sure that you do so from a reputable company.

Be wary of purchasing lots of Twitter followers. This might seem like it's a great way to boost your efforts in getting leads, but it doesn't necessarily mean those leads are valid. Some accounts may not be valid. It might be that you are sharing great information to empty accounts.

Say thank you in your marketing efforts. If someone fills out a form, have an email set up that sends them a thanks. If a person contacts you directly for more information, immediately give them a verbal thanks. Thank you goes a long way to building quick trust, and that means a stronger lead.

Keep lead gathering simple. Do not force your potential lead to fill out endless amounts of information. Use simplicity such as name and email gathering at first and as they look further ask for more. Your initial info gathering gets you a potential lead, but the further information you gain will allow for qualifying potential.

Consider an incentive program for referrals. Referrals can bring in a lot of business when people are properly motivated. Incentives could include free or heavily discounted product or an actual percentage of sales generated. Whatever the incentive, it must be something of value to the people bringing you the referrals.

Azeem Mohammed glasgow Most excellent service provider. Now that you are done with this article, you know a thing or two about generating sales leads. Use the methods within this article to glean consumer interest for your business. Once you have established adequate momentum, leads will materialize from a variety of avenues. Enjoy the success that follows.

[mustdang-100]

Shifting Perspectives - Ch. 3

Reigen wakes. The plot thickens. 

Summary: How many espers does it take to rescue one abducted conman?

Months after the events of the World Domination arc, Reigen disappears sometime between leaving the office and after-work plans. Serizawa finds himself the unwilling leader of a bunch of former Claw members and a couple of stubborn teenagers, determined to get Reigen back.

Read on AO3 Ch.1|Ch.2|Ch.3|Ch.4 Tumblr Ch.1|Ch.2|Ch.3 - below|Ch.4

Reigen crawled back to consciousness in fits and starts.

The indistinct murmur of unfamiliar voices was the first thing that registered in his bleary brain. He lived alone; waking to voices that weren’t the muffled yelling from the people above him or the screaming baby from two apartments down set his warning bells blaring. He forced his eyes open in confused alarm and clumsily tried to sit up.

One of the voices rose in agitation. Before he could focus on either the words or the blurred face coming towards him, he felt another needle prick. Unconsciousness rose again in a shadowy wave, smothering him back into silence and darkness.

The next time Reigen woke, it was to silence.

This time, half-memories and leftover sensations of warning prompted him to keep still as he slowly shook off the lingering haziness of the sedative. He kept his eyes closed and listened, ears straining, but everything remained silent; he could hear neither the urban murmur of traffic and people nor the calls of birds and insects he might expect from somewhere outside the city. After concentrating for a minute, he realized he was hearing what could be the hum of an air conditioner – or it could be just a ringing in his ears.

He lay still in the quiet space. No, that wasn’t right… he sat still; he’d been propped up on a chair, head thrown back to rest on top of the backrest. His mouth was open in what was probably a very unflattering expression. He was pretty sure he was drooling.

It was a hard chair. His hip and shoulder were sore, presumably from where he’d struck the ground falling on the concrete. His back hurt as well, crooked in an uncomfortable position. There was something hard and cold around both his wrists – handcuffs? What, were kidnappers using actual handcuffs now?

He considered continuing to play ‘unconscious victim’ – who knew what he might hear, what valuable pieces of information he might glean? He focused on staying in the exact same position, loose and relaxed.

The ache in his back intensified. He had to concentrate hard to keep his hands from moving even a centimeter. He noticed suddenly just how dry his throat was, and had to fight not to swallow to ease the raspy feeling. His nose itched.  

Eh, fuck it.

Reigen opened his eyes and groaned as obnoxiously as he could.

“Ugh, damn, you couldn’t even have put me on a table or something?” He stretched his back as much as possible from his seated position. Metal clinked – yep, there were indeed handcuffs, a chain attached to each cuff and looped through a cleat on the table in front of him. The table, in turn, was fixed to the floor.

Hmm. Interesting. How many kidnappers had access to legit handcuffs?

“And did you really have to use a taser? And the sedative? You couldn’t have just asked me to ‘come along quietly, and no one needs to get hurt?’” Reigen continued his indignant rant, mind whirring as he took in the rest of the room.

Sadly, it seemed that he’d been putting on a show for nothing. The beige-colored room was empty of other people, and, except for the table and chair, was bare of furniture. A metal door was set into the wall at his left. He faced a large window, through which he could see a smaller, unlit room, though he thought he could vaguely discern the shapes of a second table and two chairs. There was something sitting on the other table that Reigen couldn’t quite make out, but the whole set-up presented a very distinctive vibe.

Some kind of… interrogation room? What the…

He examined his own room again, more carefully, and noticed something he hadn’t before: the pattern of darker shapes on the floor were actually large, sinuous symbols. He studied them carefully, something about the characters striking a chord in his memory that he couldn’t quite place. He followed the shapes, almost but not quite recognizable as letters, up from the floor to where they’d been carved, smaller, into the walls, up and up–

He blinked. A camera was mounted high up just under the ceiling, turned towards him, red light blinking steadily.

So maybe his waking up hadn’t gone unnoticed after all.

As if on cue, a light switched on in the adjacent room and two people moved into view on the other side of the window, presumably from a door out of Reigen’s line of sight.

The man who appeared first was short and weedy-looking, wearing a dark suit and tie and carrying a thick folder of papers. He surveyed Reigen with all the smug confidence of a cat with a mouse before sitting down in one of the chairs. He opened the folder and sifted through its contents, fastidiously arranging and re-arranging the stack. The delay was an obvious power-play, and Reigen decided to ignore him for now, turning his attention to the person who had entered second.

She met Reigen’s gaze through the window, dark features impassive, and gave him a once-over that took his measure and, apparently, found it wanting. Ignoring the second chair, she instead leaned back against the wall to one side of the table, loosely crossed her arms, and half-closed her eyes, seeming to focus on everything and nothing.

Dressed all in dark clothing whose sharp cut gave the impression of military fatigues, and with her black hair cut practically short to just below her ears, Reigen would have guessed ‘bodyguard’ were it not for her casual posture and lack of any obvious weapon. That, and the twitchy side-glance the man gave her when she stayed behind him instead of sitting down in the chair clearly meant for her. But she ignored him, and the man said nothing to her, instead finally placing the neatly organized papers on the table.

The man looked up at Reigen for a moment, then pressed something on the device sitting on his table. A low crackle of static filled the air, over which Reigen could hear the man’s voice.

“Hello, Mr. Reigen. I must apologize for the inconvenience of those restraints, but we don’t want any accidents now, hmm? Allow me to introduce myself; I am Agent Nagata.”

Agent. Agent.

The word resounded through Reigen’s mind, wiping it of the questions he’d been preparing to fling at his kidnappers.

Agent. He’d been abducted by the fucking government.

Reigen stared through the window at the man – agent – for a bit longer, trying to regroup. He didn’t bother to try and hide his shock at the revelation; it supported the picture he decided he wanted to present. It was the guilty people who always acted cool, calm, and collected, right? Being outraged was a sign of innocence. He thought he’d heard that on a crime show or something. Or, maybe it was the other way around?

Wait, why shouldn’t he be outraged? He hadn’t done anything wrong. Recently. He was pretty sure.

He mentally shook himself, and took a deep indignant breath.

“So, the government has resorted to kidnapping citizens off the streets now? Well now, that certainly seems like something I’d be interested in taking to a court of law. I mean, I wasn’t read my rights or anything!”

Nagata smiled blandly, absentmindedly riffling the stack of papers.

“We of the Paranormal Monitoring Division are authorized to take certain… precautions in the case of psychic subjects. Special authorizations, you know.”

Reigen blinked.

“You are Arataka Reigen, the self-proclaimed 21st century’s greatest psychic?

“Uh… yes? Yes! So… so you’ve heard of me! Well, of course you have, I have been growing in the public eye lately and-”

“Owner and manager of the agency ‘Spirits & Such’ for more than six years now? Vanquisher of a number of dangerous spirits, including the notorious Kuchisake-onna? I should mention, by the way, your television appearance might have been just a little too public a display of your powers.”

Reigen adopted an affronted expression.

“And just how would you know about all of that? Just how long have you been following me? Special authorizations or not, this is starting to sound like quite the invasion of my rights as a Japanese citizen-”

“It is our duty to identify potential paranormal threats to our nation, and entirely within our sanctions to learn as much as we can about those threats. But also,” Nagata looked at him with something like disgust. “Most of that info is from your website.”

…oh.

The agent continued, “You may have noticed that you are currently completely unable to use your psychic abilities? With the assistance of espers employed by our division to infiltrate Claw’s ranks, we were able to locate someone with the ability to curse objects, even an entire room, in order to restrict an esper’s use of their powers.”

Ah – that was why the symbols on the floor and walls looked so familiar. Reigen had seen something like them before, in the room at the Seventh Branch where he’d finally tracked down Mob. He realized in hindsight that must have been Sakurai’s work – and that apparently, Sakurai was not the only one with that specialty.

Nagata shuffled his papers again, looking so self-satisfied that Reigen wanted to deck him just on principle.

“Let me get to the point of the matter. We are continuing our investigation into the most egregious psychic attack on Japanese soil to date, and we believe you might have some highly pertinent information regarding both the events that transpired and the culprit behind the attack.

Reigen had recovered from his surprise. He gave Nagata a bored look. “I seem to recall that the government has the person responsible for that attack already in custody. And it seems to me both that that should be enough for you to close that case, and that he should be a perfectly sufficient source for any further details you might need.”

Nagata gave him a thin smile.

“Ah, you are referring to the second most concerning psychic attack that has occurred in our country – the terror attack led by Touichirou Suzuki.” Nagata registered Reigen’s surprise and confusion with a lift of his brows.

“No, between our spies, surveillance, and interrogations of Suzuki himself, we have plenty of information on the development and engagement of that assault on Spice City. However,” the agent shifted in his chair.

“Suzuki… hasn’t been as forthcoming as we might have hoped as to the precise circumstances of why and how his plan was derailed, despite the highly… persuasive techniques our superiors have permitted our division to use on dangerous esper convicts.”

The agent’s grin turned sharp, the insinuation perfectly clear that he was ready and willing to continue the use of those methods.

Reigen tried not to gulp. He considered mentioning some statistics on the effectiveness of torture – or rather, its lack – but he hadn’t quite lost hope that he might be able to talk his way out of the situation, and cheek wouldn’t help him with that. However, he was mentally tallying the disadvantages of his situation, and coming to an unpleasant conclusion: the time had finally come for him to abandon some pretenses. He cleared his still-dry throat.

“I’m afraid, Agent Nagata, that you’ve been barking up entirely the wrong tree. The truth is, I’m not… I’m not actually psychic.”

Reigen’s tongue tripped over the words, too unused to the phrasing. The part of his brain not occupied with utter hysteria was bemused – he’d somehow landed in the oddest position of a fraud persuading someone of the absolute truth.

And, incredibly, terrifyingly, failing.

Nagata gave a high-pitched, quavering laugh. “Nice try, Mr. Reigen. I see you have grasped the situation at hand – don’t bother to try and wriggle out of it, there’s far too much evidence against you.”

Reigen frowned, annoyance building despite his fear. He was beginning to think that this pompous idiot wouldn’t be ready to listen to anything he had to say until he’d finished his spiel. He crossed his arms, found that the handcuffs got in the way, and tried to ignore how the metal pressed uncomfortably into his arms and chest.

“Now, as I was saying – the lack of details on the specifics of the conclusion to Claw’s attack is particularly troublesome, given that we believe those events precipitated the afore-mentioned even greater threat.” The agent pulled a full-page photograph from his stack and held it up, brandishing it in accusation. A familiar image loomed from the photo, taken from a great enough distance that almost the entire monolith was included in the frame.

“I believe you are aware of the giant broccoli that became known across the city as ‘the Divine Tree?’”

Reigen grinned, despite himself. It looked like it physically pained the man to say the words ‘giant broccoli.’ Nagata scowled at him.

“Naturally, the Tree drew our immediate attention in the aftermath of the Claw attack. We monitored it for weeks via electronic methods and field agents, in addition to all subjects of interest who might have been responsible for its appearance – namely, yourself and many of the former Claw members reported to be associated with you. However, one by one, our agents stopped reporting back in. Or when they did, it was just with nonsense about the Tree and someone called ‘Lord Psycho Helmet.’ And some of those agents were espers themselves. Eventually, the morning that the Tree up and disappeared, most of them just stopped responding.”

Reigen grinned wider. “Too enamored with the giant broccoli?”

“No one knows what happened,” Nagata continued, teeth gritted. “No one. Do you understand the level of threat that represents? Our agents showed up to work with no clear memory of much of the day before. The only reason we know anything is the footage they’d already gathered. The psychic behind the Divine Tree,” he placed careful emphasis on the title. “-this Lord Psycho Helmet, brainwashed the entirety of Spice City, including some of our most powerful esper employees.”

A tiny scoffing sound came through over the static of the speakers. It could only have come from the woman, still leaning against the wall behind the agent’s table. Nagata’s already clenched jaw flexed, but he didn’t acknowledge the sound in any other way.

“Given the statements of Joseph Harnick, one of our esper agents, and from the Prime Minister himself, we thought at first the culprit responsible for the Tree’s appearance and then disappearance might be one of your employees – Katsuya Serizawa, secretly continuing Claw into a new phase of existence under the title of Lord Psycho Helmet. We know, of course, that he’s remained in contact with other former Claw members.” Nagata tapped his papers against the desk, visibly calming himself back down as he eased back into his speech.

In contrast, Reigen’s temper flared, and he found he had to physically restrain himself from saying something that might get him in trouble. Someone tailing him was one thing, but following Serizawa? That crossed a line; Reigen didn’t like to contemplate what kind of damage that invasion of privacy could do to Serizawa’s healing process.

The agent didn’t seem to notice Reigen’s rising anger. “However, our surveillance showed that he went nowhere other than the school he attends, your office, and his apartment for that entire day. You, on the other hand, were last sighted walking directly towards the Tree. You, and your other employee, the middle-schooler.”

A burst of understanding wiped the anger from Reigen’s mind. Instead, horror began to creep slowly up his spine.

“Feigning ignorance is an exercise in futility. We know, Mr. Reigen, that is was a single civilian esper who opposed Suzuki. We know that the Tree appeared during the conclusion of that confrontation. And we know you were there. So, I will ask you outright. Were you the esper responsible for confronting the terrorist Suzuki, and for the subsequent appearance and disappearance of the tree?”

It was Mob. They were looking for Mob.

Reigen recognized with dread that only two things were keeping Mob off their radar. The first was that it was completely beyond their understanding that a fifteen-year-old kid could have the type of power they were looking for.

And the second, was that they thought they’d already found their culprit. If they’d already found the one responsible, why would they need to look elsewhere?

Reigen stared the agent dead in the eye, and made a decision.

He chuckled, the sound harsh and not amused in the slightest. He let the smile fall from his face. Now, they were back in his ballpark.

“It seems you’ve caught me, Nagata. Yes, I’m the esper responsible.”

Nagata grinned, pleased but not surprised. “Of course you are. And now that we’ve established that, you will tell me everything about-”

The woman behind the table sighed, heavily, as though interceding was the greatest inconvenience on earth, and straightened from her slouch.

“You’re an idiot, Nagata. This man is no esper.”

Nagata flinched, almost imperceptibly, and then stood abruptly as though to hide it, spluttering noises of protest. But Reigen could see that his hands were trembling – his interrogator was very afraid of this woman.

He wondered if that meant he should be afraid too.

“I told you when we brought him back,” she said, arms still crossed, expression bored. “I could have told you even before that, the instant I saw him.”

“We, we must get to the bottom of all this!”

“And as usual for a… non-esper… you are going about it all wrong.” Reigen could practically taste the disdain rolling off her tongue with the words. She did not need to use the phrase ‘commoner;’ it was imbedded in her very body language as she addressed the man, who was beginning to redden in anger.

“This is why your superiors hired me, and why they wanted me present for the interrogation.”

Well – this wouldn't do. She was messing up Reigen’s plans. He thought fast.

“Ah, I do beg your pardon,” Reigen broke in, “-but I’m afraid you’re incorrect. You see, one of my specialties is hiding my own aura from the gazes of other espers. It’s how I stay hidden, keeping my identity a secret.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You mean the identity plastered all over your website, voicemail, and place of work?”

“It’s all part of running a business,” Reigen said smoothly. “I actually rarely end up needing my powers in my day to day services. It’s much more about gathering insight into how people work, listening to each client, solving their real problems whether they understand what it is or not-”

“Shut up.”

She looked him up and down, expression doubtful but eyes appraising. “The room you are in prevents you from using any of your powers, including any aura-dampening abilities. And yet you still have no psychic aura right now.”

Reigen shrugged. “These symbols probably work by suppressing everything, down to a psychic’s aura,” he said, almost apologetically. He sighed. “It’s just too bad the awesomeness of my power means that you have to keep me shut up in here, for your own safety. With full access to my powers, I could easily take you both on and escape.”

As soon as he’d spoken, Reigen knew he’d miscalculated.

The woman’s hand came up in a gesture he’d seen from Mob and Serizawa dozens of times, palm flat and facing out towards him. The glass in the window between them cracked, then shattered, pieces falling to the floor in a glittering rain. The chain between his handcuffs snapped and he was hauled up from his seat. He let out an involuntary yelp and flailed in midair, limbs instinctively seeking a gravity that no longer applied to him.

He floated through the air, through the now-empty window frame, and found himself standing directly in front of the esper woman.

“You say your specialty is hiding your aura.” Her lip curled. “I sincerely doubt that, but now I need to test exactly what other powers you might be hiding. Allow me to demonstrate mine.”

Reigen’s body went ramrod straight. He suddenly could not move his limbs even an inch, not a toe, not a finger; his hands sat unnaturally stiff against his sides, fingers splayed. He tried to say something, anything, and found that even his jaw wouldn’t move. All he could do was stare straight at the esper who held him captive.

She stared back, dark eyes cool.

“I was always a gifted telekinetic.” A statement, not a brag. “Manipulating balls of water was an amusing, simple childhood game. But as I honed my skills to an even greater precision, controlling pressure and temperature down to the molecular level, I discovered it was possible to alter water’s very substance.” She smiled, razor thin. “You can imagine my sister’s surprise the first time a puddle she played in froze her feet into place.”

Her smile disappeared.

“Did you know that the human body is more than fifty percent water?”

Reigen went cold.

At first, he thought it was merely a mental reaction to her words and the overwhelming hysteria that had fogged his brain and numbed his limbs when he’d realized he’d lost all control over his own body. Until he began to shiver.

Not in nervousness or fear, but an involuntary reaction that grew slowly to full body spasms. He might have fallen, had his body not still been held stiffly upright by the force he did not understand. Or rather, that he did not want to understand, because he was alone, and was increasingly aware it was something he could not fight.

“Don’t worry,” the esper said evenly, as if this was an everyday occurrence. “My skills are such that I can control your body temperature down to the degree. I’ve had a lot of practice. These days, all the deaths I cause are intentional.”

She dropped her hand, as if suddenly bored, and Reigen was finally allowed to crumple to the ground for the second time in two days. He curled into a fetal position, pulling his hands into his body in an automatic, futile gesture, seeking warmth.

The esper turned on her heel, pulling open the door and calling over her shoulder, “Nagata, let my people know when your plans next require our skills.” The door slammed shut behind her.

Reigen gathered the strength to lift his head, looking over to see what had become of Nagata. The agent had abandoned his seat and flung himself into a corner, back to the wall, breathing heavily. His wide, panicked eyes met Reigen’s, before he straightened and hurried out of the room himself, leaving his papers behind. The door locked with an audible clunk.

Reigen struggled to push himself upright, keeping his hands and feet pulled in, and gazed dumbly around at the destruction left behind. He had somehow managed to avoid most but not all of the glass in his fall; the little nicks to his exposed skin made themselves known as his body began to warm to the ambient temperature. He did not move from the huddled position.

He was still shivering.

[nphofrph]

NPHofRPH’s Sing-Along Glossary of Roleplay Terms

The quintessential dictionary for the new RPer, or the veteran RPer who wants to get caught up on all the new-fangled slang them young folks are using.

(Note: does not actually come with any particular melody, but feel free to make one up as you go and hum it.)

1x1: A roleplay between just two people, you and your partner.

2x2: A roleplay between four characters. Not sure why it’s referred to this way. I guess the characters are all supposed to have paired up by the end of it?

4x4: Wait, are we stilling pairing them up, or can this just be eight characters?

32x32: Apparently we just like dividing by two in this neck of the woods.

Activity Check: A time when the admins go through the characters of a roleplay and make sure that they’re all still posting and haven’t run away from home.

Admin: The manager or moderator of a roleplay group; the one who’s in charge of creating the roleplay and keeping it running.

Angst: Piling on the hurt - usually emotional, sometimes physical - for your character to endure. Really fun. You should try it. Be a malevolent god.

Anon Hate: A message someone sends anonymously detailing why they despise you and what they’ve done to your mother, or threatening you in some way. Honestly, it’s hard to be threatened by that little gray fella with the sunglasses, but okay.

Apartment RP: A roleplay in which all or most of the characters live in a single apartment building.

Application: A description of your character to submit in order to be considered to join a roleplay group. Like a job interview, but not as painful.

Appless RP: A roleplay where you don’t have to fill out an application. Just insert a couple of details about your character onto a little form and you’re in. Quality may vary.

Ask Meme: A post containing a list of questions for others to send to your character.

AU: Alternate universe. This is where the characters of the work are placed in a setting or scenario not present in canon. For example, characters who are superheroes in their canon work meeting as ordinary high school students instead.

Backstory: The events of a character’s life that occurred before the beginning of the roleplay. Doesn’t have to be tragic. Is usually tragic.

Bandom RP: A roleplay in which the characters are in a band. It’s a pun, see. A portmanteau of “band” and “fandom”, I think. I’m assuming. I mean, I’m not a roleplay etymologist or anything.

Bio RP: A roleplay in which a detailed description of the character’s background and personality is required in the application.

Blogroll: A page which displays all the blogs that a user is following.

BroTP: Like an OTP (see below), except for best buddies instead of romantic partners.

Bubble Roleplaying: Roleplaying with only a select few characters or members in a group RP setting and ignoring the others.

Canon: The stuff that the original writer of a work made. For an RP group, this consists of the plot, additional info, and any characters made by the admins intended to be a part of the overall story. For other works, it’s simply everything that occurs in the work.

CBR: Could be related. Two faceclaims who could play biological family members.

Celebrity RP: A roleplay in which you play actual celebrities as characters. These exist for some reason.

Charrie: Short for character. Not to be confused with Carrie, a Stephen King novel in which a girl gets a bit power-crazy with her telekinesis.

City RP: A roleplay in which the plot takes place in a single city as its primary or only setting. Like a town RP, but the buildings are taller.

Closed Starter: A starter made for a particular blog to reply to. Sure, you can still reply to it if it wasn’t intended for you, but it’ll just lead to secondhand embarrassment for all involved.

Contained Theme: A theme that is frightened. It tries to hide from predators by curling up and making itself smaller.

Crackship: A relationship between two characters whose pairing seems unlikely or absurd.

Crackship Gifs: Gifs of two characters edited together so that it appears the characters are interacting with each other.

Crossover: A work consisting of elements from two or more works or fandoms.

Cross-tagging: Tagging a post with related things that are not actually in the post. For example, tagging a picture of Wonder Woman with ‘#superman’. Don’t do this. It’s all of the annoying.

CW: Content Warning. Same as trigger warning. See below.

Defiantly: Definitely, but misspelled.

DM: Dungeon Master. The person who is in charge of - wait, hang on, wrong type of roleplay. Sorry about that. Move along.

Drabble: Technically it’s a story of exactly 100 words, but it’s more used to just refer to a very short standalone piece about a character or characters in a particular single scenario.

Dry Docking: The opposite of shipping. When two characters who are a couple in canon are either broken up or were never together in the first place in your fan work or RP.

Event: In a roleplay group, an occurrence in the story in which all characters can participate. Also can be several days in which the verse is altered, such as a Future Week or other AU.

Exclusive: In a fandom-related independent RP, when the mun will RP with only one version of a particular character. For example, an indie RP playing Hermione Granger only interacts with a single indie Ron Weasley blog, and others who play Ron must go elsewhere.

FxF: A romantic pairing between two female characters, usually in 1x1 roleplay.

Face-chaser: Someone who pursues a roleplay or ship with a character based on their faceclaim instead of their characterization or the writing.

Faceclaim/FC: A real-life person used to represent what a roleplay character looks like.

Faceless Gifs/Images: Gifs or images that can be used in roleplaying regardless of the character’s faceclaim, since a person’s face is not visible or present in the gif or image.

Female Ban: An element in some works of dystopian fiction wherein the government or other higher power attempts to suppress a population by eliminating females and thus making it hard to procreate... Hang on, no, I’ve just been informed that it’s when an RP doesn’t allow any more female characters to be added to the group. Presumably, male bans exist too, but I think that’s just an urban legend.

First Look: A type of review based on a quick glance over the roleplay and what first impressions the reviewer gleaned from it.

Floating Timeline: A concept in roleplay that suggests that events in threads that are being written at a particular time do not necessarily take place in that time in-story. So, if a character has multiple ongoing threads, they are not actually in multiple places at once.

Fluff: Scenes that do not involve any significant obstacle and instead are intended to give the characters time to just have fun and be cute together.

Gif Chat: A type of roleplay thread in which each post is accompanied by a gif to illustrate the character.

Gif Hunt: Collection of gifs gathered from throughout tumblr or from various sources.

Gif Icons: Collection of gifs that are 100x100 pixels in size. Sometimes people make them 90x90 or 75x75 for what I can only assume are unsavory purposes. Don’t let your guard down around those things.

Gif Pack: Collection of gifs in which  all of the gifs are made by the person posting the pack, and usually are all from the same source (the same movie, TV episode, etc.)

Godmodding: Collectively refers to powerplaying, metagaming, or both. See below.

Gore: Explicit and/or graphic violence and blood. A challenge to see how many synonyms for “red” you know.

Gossip Blog: A blog affiliated with a roleplay group that talks about and passes judgment on the characters. Sometimes can be fun, if managed well, but often creates all species of drama.

Headcanon: Something that an individual or fandom believes to be true about a story or character, even though it is not shown to be the case in the canon work.

Hiatus: Taking a break from roleplaying due to real life occurrences taking priority. As if anything could be more important than finishing those replies, pfft! The nerve.

IC: In-character. The actions, thoughts, and posts of the character; the stuff that occurs in the roleplay proper.

Icons: Also called static icons, a 100x100 image of the character or faceclaim used to illustrate the character in lieu of gifs.

I’m sorry, what did you say?: An extremely vague starter. For some reason, people keep making this starter, despite it annoying and frustrating people. Like an Alvin and the Chipmunks film.

Independent RP/Indie RP: A roleplay blog or character not associated with any particular established RP group.

IRL: In real life. Don’t worry, you won’t have to use this one often. Nothing ever happens in real life.

Kik: Something that I recently learned is not a dating site, as I had thought. This is all I know.

KRP: A roleplay that uses K-Pop artists as faceclaims exclusively or nearly exclusively. This community has some terminology of its own that I don’t know, but most of it’s similar to the rest of the RPC.

Label: A brief descriptor or trope used to describe a character in an application. Some examples are The Scholar, The Heartbreaker, The Intrepid Reporter, The Lizard Tamer, etc.

Literate RP: An RP that is highly writing-focused and requires longer posts and replies than other roleplays. Despite the misleading name, it is not actually saying that other roleplays are illiterate.

LSRP: Legit Serious Roleplay. Same as Literate RP. Yes, this acronym is ridiculous, just roll with it.

MxM: A romantic pairing between two male characters, usually in 1x1 roleplay.

Magic Anon/M!A: A post for which you invite others to make your character take on a certain trait or action for a select period of time.

Main: In a group, the blog that contains all of the information and updates for the roleplay. Home base, basically.

Manip: A graphic edit of two faceclaims in which they are photoshopped to look like they’re in a picture together.

Mary Sue: A character whose unreasonable ease or difficulty in overcoming obstacles, forming relationships, and/or gaining accolades runs contrary to the intent of the writer and makes it difficult for the reader to get invested in the story or character arc. Also, apparently, a term used to refer to any female character you don’t like.

Mature RP: A roleplay that may contain dark or adult themes, and thus doesn’t allow players under the age of 18. Seriously, if you’re under 18, don’t lie about your age. That’s a dick move.

Meme: A post that features small prompts that others can send in to begin a thread. Elsewhere on the internet, this term refers to drawings of sad frogs.

Metagaming: Letting your character have in-character knowledge that they shouldn’t logically possess, just because the mun has it.

Mod: Another term for admin. We could never settle on one term for them. It’s like the couch vs. sofa dilemma.

Moodboard: A collection of images or gifs used to sum up a character’s personality.

Multifandom: Similar to Crossover, although usually used to refer to a work with elements from three or more works or fandoms.

Multi-Storyline/Multiverse: In independent roleplay, when the character exists in more than one universe at once, such that threads with a character do not impact the events of threads with a different character.

Mumu: Multi-muse. In which a single blog is used to play more than one character.

Mun: The writer/roleplayer. The person who’s controlling the character. You. This is you. Use this power wisely.

Muse: The character that you roleplay. Also, a Greek goddess who presided over the arts, although this definition is usually irrelevant in roleplay.

Musing: Posts that represent the character’s personality, history, or thoughts in someway, such as aesthetic photos, songs, or philosophical rants.

Mutuals: Blogs on tumblr that are both following each other.

MW: Most wanted. A character or faceclaim that admins or members in a group would really like someone to play.

NoTP: When some people think that two characters would make a good couple, and you would like to stab those people with a fork for being so stupid.

Novella: Very long format for roleplaying, in which responses should contain several paragraphs of writing. Don’t worry, you don’t actually have to write a novella; a reply shorter than 20,000 words is still acceptable.

NPC: Non-playable character. A character who is present in the roleplay’s universe, but is not played by any one particular writer.

NPH of RPH: That’s me!

NSFW: Not safe for work. Nudity, sex, graphic violence. Basically, the stuff that you absolutely don’t want to come across while browsing at the public library.

OC: Original character. A character you make that is not part of the canon or not pre-written for the RP group.

One-liner:  Roleplay consisting of only a single line or a few short lines. Sometimes referred to as “action roleplay” wherein actions are interspersed with speech. For example: “*Enters the room and throws confetti into the air.* I have arrived!”

OOC: Out of character. Can be used to denote that the writer is currently speaking or posting as themselves, rather than as a character, or be used to point out that a character does not act that way in canon, what are you doing, goddamnit.

Open Character: A pre-made character in a group who is currently not being played by any member of the group.

Open Starter: A starter that any character is allowed to reply to.

Original RP: A roleplay in which the plot and characters come from the admins’ and players’ creations rather than another source.

OTP: One true pairing. The ship that you love more than all the other ships. Except that most people have at least twelve OTPs, so...

OT3: One true threesome. Like an OTP, except there are three people.

Para: Relatively longer posts, consisting of full-bodied paragraphs or multiple paragraphs.

Playby: Another word for Faceclaim. Used more outside of Tumblr. See the couch vs. sofa debate.

Plot Bunny: A story that you would like to play out or see others play out through roleplay.

Plot Drop: A significant detail or event of the overarching story in a group RP that causes some change to the lives of the characters.

Powerplaying: Controlling another player’s character without their permission.

Private: In indie RP, a blog that only interacts with mutuals.

Promo: A post used to advertise a roleplay group or account.

PSD: Photoshop Data file. A type of file that’s designed to be edited on Photoshop or other image editing programs. It comes with the image separated into layers, so that different parts of the image, such as a background, a border, or text, can be edited separately.

Revamped: Extreme Makeover, Roleplay Edition.

RP: Roleplay.

RPA: Roleplay Advice. Like roleplay help, except, I dunno, maybe fewer resources, more questions answered? This one’s falling into disuse a bit. Oh, also Roleplay Assistant.

RPC: Roleplay Community. The group of us weirdos here who roleplay instead of just posting funny text posts and photographs of flowers like normal people. Alternatively, Roleplay Critic, a blog that reviews roleplays.

RPCHA: Um, Roleplay Critic/Helper/Advice. Seems a little over the top, but all right.

RPCW: Roleplay Critic Writer, I guess? I think. Same as roleplay critic. Think it’s used to differentiate from Roleplay Community.

RPG: Roleplay group. A group. That roleplays. Also can mean roleplaying game, or rocket-propelled grenade.

RPH: Roleplay Help. A blog that offers resources and answers questions to help people with roleplaying.

RPO: Roleplay Opinions. A blog that reviews roleplays. It doesn’t count as RPO if you just have opinions; you need to share them with the class.

RPT: Roleplay Talk. A blog that talks about roleplays and the roleplay community.

RPWCTOHA: This doesn’t stand for anything yet, but it’s only a matter of time.

Sample Para: A few paragraphs of your writing you include as an example as your work when you apply for a roleplay group. Do not just copy and paste a passage from Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Cask of Amontillado.” The admins will probably notice.

Secrets RP: A roleplay in which every character has a secret. These secrets are all listed together on a page in the RP, but it’s not revealed which character has which secret; that’s up to the other characters to figure out on their own through interactions.

Selective: For independent RP, when the mun does not roleplay indiscriminately with every blog or character that offers, but rather picks and chooses partners based on personal preference or certain criteria. 

Self-insert: A character who is a fictionalized version of the mun/author, with little to no change from their actual self. If they die in the game, they die in real life.

Self-para: When your character wanders away from the group for a bit to engage in their own sidequest or navel-gazing. Good times.

Semi-appless RP: A roleplay that sits on an ever-sliding scale, requiring more detail in an application than an appless RP, but less than a bio RP.

Semi-hiatus: Like a hiatus, except that you might still show up to the blog on occasion and do a little bit of activity. When your real life is busy, but you’re just that determined to roleplay.

Semi-selective: For independent RP, a blog that’s not quite as selective as a selective blog, but still maintains the right to refuse service to customers should they so choose.

Semi-truck: A truck that’s not as much truck as a regular truck.

Shipping: Holding up hand-puppet versions of two characters and forcing them to make out.

Shoutout: A brief advertisement for a roleplay group (or occasionally other blogs) that can be submitted to the ask box of a help blog.

Skeleton RP: A roleplay in which some details are given for the roles being offered by the group, but the applicant fills in the rest, usually writing the body of the character bio. Alternatively, a roleplay in which every character is literally a skeleton.

Smut: Sex. Doing the do. The horizontal tango. Bumping uglies. Woohooing. Written out in all of its gory detail. Not worth going to jail for, so for the love of all that is holy, don’t do it if you’re under 18.

Starboarding: Shipping a one-sided ship. When you want one character to be in love with another, but don’t necessarily want the feelings to be returned. The most relatable type of ship, honestly. More people should RP it.

Starter: The first post in a thread, one that is used to kick off a scene in roleplaying. Usually, especially in a group, anyone is allowed to reply and start a thread from that point.

Starter Call: A post that people like or reblog in order to request a starter from the person who posted it.

Supernatural RP: A roleplay consisting of paranormal elements such as magical creatures, witchcraft, etc. Not a roleplay about the TV show Supernatural, although I guess such a roleplay would use this tag too. This is a problem the showrunners should have foreseen.

Taken Character: A character in a roleplay group who is currently being played by a group member.

Task: In a group, a (usually optional) prompt or project that can be used for character development.

Thread: The series of posts and replies to said post that make up a scene between characters in a roleplay.

Time Skip: Usually indicated by a line break, this is when a thread moves from one scene to another without covering the time in between.

Town RP: A roleplay in which the plot takes place in a single town as its primary or only setting. Like a city RP, but the buildings are shorter.

Trigger: Something that makes a user anxious, panicky, or otherwise very upset when they see it on their dashboard without warning. Tag these. No, I don’t care if it doesn’t fit your tagging aesthetic, just tag them.

Tumblr: You are here.

TW: Trigger Warning. Used in a tag to indicate that the post contains content that may be a trigger. Please format as “#[trigger] tw”. Not “#tw: [trigger]”, and definitely not “#☾-*.:｡-❝✿~~ tw ~~✿&&♛”.

Twitter RP: A roleplay that uses Twitter as its primary platform. Don’t ask me how. I can’t even figure out how to use Twitter for its intended purpose.

Urban RP: A roleplay focused primarily on PoC (person of color) characters in a city setting. Often uses musicians such as hip-hop or rap artists as faceclaims.

UTP: Up to player. An acronym used in skeletons to indicated that part of the bio can be chosen by the applicant.

Verse: Short for universe. A character’s world or timeline.

WID: What I do. A list or page on a help blog that lists what services the blog offers.

X-kit: A browser extension that’s popular within the RPC. It works to make tumblr usable again every time the staff creates a new bug and calls it a feature.