#ward restructuring

[rightnewshindi]

पंचायत चुनाव 2025 की बड़ी तैयारी: 125 जिला परिषद वार्डों की डी-लिमिटेशन शुरू, वोटर लिस्ट में होगा बदलाव!

Himachal News: प्रदेश में पंचायती राज विभाग ने आगामी पंचायत चुनाव 2025 को लेकर अपनी तैयारियां तेज कर दी हैं। इस बार जिला परिषदों के 249 वार्डों में से 125 वार्डों की डी-लिमिटेशन (सीमा निर्धारण) की प्रक्रिया शुरू हो गई है। इसका मकसद प्रशासनिक कार्यों को सुचारू बनाना और चुनाव प्रक्रिया को आसान करना है। विभाग का लक्ष्य है कि दिसंबर 2025 तक होने वाले पंचायती राज संस्थाओं के चुनाव से पहले सभी…

[nevesserialwriter]

A Word with Friends: Effaceable

Ah I love these games, I finally have something to share that I've been working on that's not Dock Town Noir. Thank you to the wonderful @znthra who if you're not following... WHY NOT. Anywho, I've been working on a new Neve/Rook story for when Dock Town is done, it's just drafts and scattered plans and thoughts right now but I did drill down on this one part so enjoy. :)

I'm gently tagging @woundedsoul12

Untitled

The greenhouse, though modest in construction, functioned with an autonomy Neve had long stopped questioning. Its atmosphere was constant—wet, warm, heavily oxygenated, and slightly mineralic in scent. Condensation slicked the interior panels of reinforced glass, trickling in slow rivulets that mapped the surface like veins. The runoff collected at the basin edges, feeding the mosses that cushioned the stone paths, which in turn cushioned her step. The whole structure exhaled in a way that suggested self-awareness, or at the very least, indifference to the hand that maintained it.

A soft hiss followed as the greenhouse door sealed shut, rebalancing the internal pressure with a sigh of shifting air. Neve crossed the threshold, the change in pressure humming faintly against her skin.

She neither paused nor hurried, there wasn't a need to. She lived with a quiet resignation that her fate had been sealed long ago. Why spend the energy fighting it, when she could enjoy the quiet.

The strap of the watering can cut across her shoulder, stiff with age, its leather rubbed smooth in places by repetitive use. Her fingers, still numbed by the morning’s chill, flexed reflexively around the handle. The cold lived in her joints now, no matter the season.

Each bed, trough, and hanging cluster held its own balance. The feeding schedules were staggered intentionally, ensuring the system never went still. Moss blooms feathered out from stone cracks, ferns curled inward at the base of support beams, and pale stalks strained up through their individual grow-chambers, always seeking—though nothing ever bloomed here without the island's permission. She moved among them like she was part of the schedule: bend, adjust, water, re-align.

The far corner—a section not truly forgotten but often delayed—drew her attention today. She stopped when she noticed the state of one of the beds. Some of the Vanerberries had been picked, their stems sheared too high, the fruit taken before ripening. Neve stared at the empty cluster for a moment longer, then looked around, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her gardening tool.

Nothing moved. 

Drawing a slow breath, she turned toward the far patch of overgrowth—a creeping, tangled spill of broadleaf and root-rot that hadn’t been there a week ago. The island often restructured terrain on its own, rendering soil effaceable when it no longer served. Growths would rise where nothing had been seeded, old beds swallowed whole. But this one was moving and the rhythm was too steady, too contained.

Not the wind.

Not decay.

Then something beneath the canopy of shifting green adjusted its weight.

Not a ripple.

A lift.

A fall. 

Almost like... 

Breathing?

Her pace slowed. The idea of encountering something alive that wasn’t hers no longer stirred alarm—just curiosity. However, her perimeter hadn’t been breached by anything foreign in months, and yet, here was movement.

She'd have to check the wards the next time she was out.

Creeping foliage crowded the path, leaves pale and glossy with condensation. Angling around their reach, she moved closer, careful not to brush the more reactive fronds. The overgrowth was dense—tendrils twisted and layered in a slow collapse, the soil beneath them rich but unsettled, the soil beneath them rich but unsettled. 

A soft click marked the settling of her prosthetic as she lowered herself onto the moss-lined stone. With both hands, she parted the creeping mass—layers of vine, root, and the fine debris the island shed like skin. The growth resisted at first, as though reluctant to give up what it had claimed. She peeled it back one section at a time, careful not to tear or crush, working through the tangle until the shape beneath was fully revealed.

A woman lay at the center of the forming bed.

Elven—she could tell from the structure of the ears, the bone-length symmetry of the face, the subtle angles where human lines softened.

Pretty.

She was curled tightly, arms folded beneath her chest. The fabric clinging to her was not designed for any climate—thin, compromised by exposure and wear. Bruises painted her limbs in slow-turning violets and greens. Dirt lined finger nails, cracked lips, shivering.

Asleep.

Heat radiated from her body in uneven pulses, a clear sign of fever. Neve didn’t need contact to confirm it, but she leaned in all the same. A hand lifted—hovered over the woman's brow. The warmth beneath her palm was aggressive, and the scent that came off her skin was sour, pushing toward septic.

The Vanerberries most likely.

Neve studied her face for longer than she meant to. The tightness of her jaw. The thread of tension across her brow. She wasn't just resting—her body was burning through something, fighting hard and failing slowly. It hadn’t chosen this place to collapse. It had simply made it far enough.

A quiet breath passed through Neve’s teeth.

This was stupid, but God's help her, she couldn't just leave.

She eased back on her heels, just enough to shift her weight, and reached into the satchel at her hip. Her fingers closed around a small tincture vial and a piece of coarse bread wrapped in cloth—nothing special, but enough to start. 

"Alright," she murmured, her voice low, steady. "You need to wake up."

Her hand hovered again, then lightly touched her forearm. "Hey. Come on."

There was no response. Just the quick, shallow rise and fall of breath. Fever still clinging deeply.

Neve cleared her throat. The sound felt strange, having not had the need to use her own voice in seasons. "Excuse me," she said, a little louder. "I don’t want to frighten you, but—"

The movement came fast.

A blade pressed to her neck, clean and cold.

Neve froze mid-word. One hand held the bread. The other, the tincture. Both still raised, palms visible. "Easy," she said. "You're burning up. I just want to help."

The elf didn’t speak. Just held the mage's gaze, blade sharp against her neck, fever-glass eyes tracking every breath Neve took.

"Okay, okay. I shouldn't have touched you." Neve reasoned.

No shift. No slack in the tension.

Very slowly, Neve brought the hand holding the tincture to her chest, careful to show she wasn't reaching for anything. 

"Neve," she said softly. "That’s my name."

Nothing.

She tried again, quieter this time. "My name is Neve. I live here."

Then her hand lifted, open and slow, a small gesture inviting a name in return. But even that—too much.

The woman surged upright, knife pressing in with more intent. Not deep, but precise.

A warning.

Neve hissed in pain and shifted back instinctively, one foot sliding behind her to steady her weight.

"Okay," she breathed. "Okay. I��m setting them down. That’s all."

Her knees adjusted beneath her. No sudden moves. She crouched low and placed the tincture and bread on the moss between them, palms open the whole time, never breaking eye contact.

She lowered the vial and the bread to the moss, slow and careful, her gaze never leaving the woman’s face. "Look, if we don't get back to my cabin and break that fever... you'll die."

[scotianostra]

On December 3rd 1877 Mount Stuart on the Isle of Bute was badly damaged by fire.

Mount Stuart’s architectural journey is a story in itself. The original house was built from 1719, but was severely damaged by fire in 1877. Most of the contents survived, along with the Georgian wings of the building. These were retained as part of the new Mount Stuart, which the 3rd Marquess of Bute built in the late 19th century.

Wishing to bring the house up to date, the 3rd Marquess had already commissioned a significant restructure before the fire took place. Following the fire, the new build was led by Scottish architect Robert Rowand Anderson. The result was a spectacular architectural feat – a building that surpassed its predecessor in grandeur, scale, and ingenuity. A hugely impressive neo-gothic mansion . Mount Stuart was the first house in Scotland to be wired for electricity, had a lift, a heated indoor swimming pool and central heating system. All still working today!

And, with the Georgian architecture of the wings contrasting with the Victorian design, the house displayed a completely unique architectural blend.

I’m not a great fan of these stately home type properties, I have no wish to see ho the other half live, but Mount Stuart is one of the most beautiful buildings in Scotland, and we are lucky the Marquess of Bute spent the time restoring and rebuilding the place, many would have left it to rot, like so many classical buildings before and after this. No expense was spared and the result must be one of the architect’s finest creations, with the external appearance of a Venetian palace in red sandstone. The cost was astronomical for the time, said to have reached £600,000 (over £50 million today), the most expensive house built in Scotland at the time. Even more remarkably, what we see today represents only the northern wing of what was once intended. A glass-domed ballroom was planned to link this to an equally-enormous southern wing.

John Crichton-Stuart, the 4th Marquess of Bute, offered his family home, Mount Stuart House, to the Admiralty. It then became a naval hospital from 1914 to 1918. Lady Bute attended the Scottish General Hospital at Stobhill for nursing training. Patients arrived from the clearing hospital in Edinburgh and the Isle of Bute proved a suitable location for the trains from Glasgow. It also proved a peaceful Isle for the patients. As were the hospital grounds with its stunning scenery, many trees, grassed areas and gardens.

An operating theatre was set up and there was x-ray facilities. The Dining Room became a 22 bed Medical Ward as seen in the third photo below. Other rooms, like the Marble Hall, became the Middle Ward with 50 beds. There were 2060 operations which included 38 appendectomies, 14 amputations, 28 bones plated together and the removal of 2 testicles. The surgeon was Sir William McEwen who was a pioneer of brain surgery. 2120 men were admitted to the hospital and 13 died at the house.

[beasttheyeti]

Disabled in the UK

The benefits system in the UK has been terrible for a really, really long time. Surrounding the whole thing is a deliberately orchestrated sense of shame. Discussions revolve around who is worthy of support, rather than why the modern work environment is pushing so many people into poor health. They ignore the reality of long-term health conditions which have no cure or quick fix. Management, maintenance and stability should be emphasised far more when considering support systems.

I've been severely ill since 2003 (I refer to this time as 'my dark backstory' because things got very fucked up). The only long term work I have done was Sunday night stock counting for a supermarket during my final year of school. My mother worked there and filled in the application for me. I failed the personality test and only got the job because the role had no customer contact. Then I went to university (because that's what my school and parents expected) and clawed my way through a degree while battling chronic depression, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Then I hit a wall. I was so unwell that I could no longer mask how bad it was. I started getting treatment - meds and therapy helped but I needed to learn to be a person again because all the masking I had learned and relied on did not work. I was anxious and on edge most of the time. I took a leave of absence from postgrad studies and then dropped out. I lost my therapist to NHS restructuring in 2013. In some ways I was fortunate that my parents were willing and able to cover my basic needs financially, so I wasn't homeless and I had food. However, they actively discouraged me from applying for Jobseekers Allowance because they had such a negative impression of people who did. Being unwell, relying on my parents' goodwill when contact with them caused flashbacks, severe conflict of needs with housemates, feeling like a failure for dropping out and not understanding how to find employment took a massive toll on my health. In 2014 I developed a neurological disorder which crippled me (didn't get a diagnosis until 2023). I lost the use of my left side and spent most of my time trying to ward off the pain with heatpads and codine. I've got some significant memory gaps from around then. In 2015 a Primary Care Mental Health Nurse helped me to fill out the paperwork for Employment and Support Allowance (ESA) and I was placed in the Support Group. All I was told was that I wasn't allowed to do 'work-related activity' and if I had savings over £15,000 I'd lose eligibility. It turns out there was also a soft limit of £6000 where they could decrease payments by up to £90 a week. I found that out in 2020, from another person on the same benefit. I had one reassessment. It was very stressful. Since then I've had constant background fear of another reassessment. At the time the nurse and I agreed that I was not well enough to apply for Personal Independence Payment (PIP) because the process was even more onerous than that for ESA (it was very likely you'd need to go to tribunal to get anything). Then the NHS restructured some things and I lost the support of the nurse.

I sort of pootled along with just ESA and housing benefit from the local council. For years the ESA payments were frozen but my bills went up with inflation, so the squeeze got a little bit tighter. My parents covered the excess cost of bills and later my food too as it became apparent that there wasn't enough (if you're under 35 then housing benefit only covers the cost of a place in a shared house). I tried another course of therapy but didn't get on with the therapist. We had different aims for the outcome of treatment and he refused to use tactile instead of visual prompts, so I had a lot of very intense flashbacks and dissociative episodes with little progress to show for it. He made it clear that he thought my pain was caused by me being obese and that I was over-exaggerating. We eventually parted ways. In 2017 we finally got me onto meds that did something and I worked with the Pain Team to regain mobility on my left side. It was slow, tiring and painful. I had to fight to be taken seriously because of my weight (they were surprised when I reached a healthy weight and was still in acute pain). It wasn't until 2018 when a different service demanded that I have counselling before progressing to treatment that I was linked to my current support worker. I was in a very bad place when we first met. We've done a lot of work together to establish trust and play to my strengths rather than trying to jam me into a framework. She supported me in getting an autism diagnosis. She talked me though my worries about applying for Personal Independence Payments (PIP) and found practical resources for me. PIP itself is a shitshow. Everything about the process is designed to make you give up and twist your words to avoid giving you anything. My assessment meeting took nearly 3 hours. I got 8 points, 2 in 4 categories. If the proposed changes are made, I'd lose PIP. I've used the money from PIP to pay for:

replacement parts for my crutches and walking stick

better quality food and pre-chopped vegetables

food deliveries when I can't leave the house or physically carry shopping

earplugs

communication cards

pill organisers

whiteboards to help with memory issues

bus and taxi fares

food when I'm out and start to crash

a disabled railcard

a shopping trolley

a heatpad

a lightweight camping chair

over the counter medication

travel costs for people assisting me

exercise equipment for physio

a basic gym membership

swimming sessions

Along with PIP I also started to get Severe Disability Allowance, which apparently I should have had for a long time and didn't. My quality of life massively improved. I can pay my bills. I've been able to engage with support groups in my local community. I've had the space to test the boundaries of what I can do and what is too much. I still have a lot of downtime from pain or exhaustion. There are things I cannot do where assistance is non-existent or so hard to access that it might as well not be there. My ESA has just been migrated to Universal Credit, with a convoluted name for the equivalent of the Support Group. I've also got the 3 year review paperwork for PIP (it feels like it hasn't been enough time, but that's because I went through the tribunal process and that took until the year after to resolve). I am expecting more stress and pressure in the near future, none of which is going to help me into work. After more than ten years being too unwell to work, coming up to ten years on disability benefits, I don't know what support I need in order to engage with paid employment. I've never managed to get a long term job by myself. I have no idea where I could get support even if I knew what I needed. I don't think an employer is going to want someone who occasionally does All the Things and then vanishes for a week. What happens if these cuts go through will not be a surprise. We know what happens when you remove support from people who are struggling. We don't magically find the health and energy to work. We get worse. Some of us die.

[dp-marvel94]

Sweet Reconciliation

Summary:

The last thing Danny expected was Phantom showing up at his front door and dragging him out for a day at the fair. He certainly didn’t want to hang out with 'Dan', much less trust him. But finding himself enjoying a day of rides and games? Sharing quips and food and heart-felt confessions? Maybe he and Dan have more in common than Danny realized.

Word Count: 9,217

Also on AO3

Notes:

It's finally here! I'm so excited to be posting my Valentine's Core Exchange. My giftee was @strawberry-avalanche . I went for a Danny & Dan centric fic, with some fluff, bonding, and redemption. I hope you enjoy this not-so-short story of Danny and Dan enjoying a day at the fair. Happy Reading! @valentines-core-exchange

Finally, it was a perfect Saturday, Danny thought. After all the chaos of time restructuring, his ghostly alter ego becoming number one on the most wanted list again, and learning how to help the ghosts instead of just fighting them, finally the half ghost had a day to himself. There was no one to bother him. His parents were out of town at a conference, his sister on a college tour. Vlad was out of his hair, busy with his new ward, a certain (formerly?) evil alternate Phantom. Best yet, he had plans with Sam and Tucker, an all day movie binge with all the popcorn and candy he could eat. Everything was absolutely perfect.

The boy bent down in his chair, tying his shoes to leave, when an insistent knocking came at the front door. 

His brow furrowed; his friends weren’t supposed to be meeting him here, were they?

Another knock came, this one more forceful.

Danny stood, calling. “I’m coming.” He hurried across the kitchen, a second later pulling the door open. “Weren’t we meeting at S-”

The boy blinked, cutting himself off in his confusion. There, on the other side of the door was… himself. Or at least, the figure looked like him. The other teen wore all black, gothic look complete with eye-liner and half a dozen ear piercings. And a familiar scowl.

With that last piece of the puzzle, the answer fell into place. “Phantom?” Danny’s mouth fell open.

“Actually, it’s Dan.” His double shrugged, still scowling.

“Dan…” The boy said slowly. Was this really happening?

The other teen, at least in appearance, didn’t acknowledge the word. Instead, his eyes flickered to the house behind. An odd look flashed in them for a second before a forcible disaffection shifted into place. “You’re not doing anything today, right? Good.”

That broke Danny out of his disbelieving stoop. He stood up straighter, eyes narrowed in distrust. “Actually, I was going to-”

A hand suddenly pulled him out the door, distracting him from his protest. “We’re going to the fair.”

Danny blinked once. “What?”

“The Fair.” Phantom said slowly, like he was stupid. “What, got cotton in your ears?”

“I heard you.” Danny pulled his hand away, arms crossing. “Why?”

The other rolled his eyes. “Vlad is driving me crazy. So I stole his credit card.” With a flash of sharp teeth, he swiped out said card. “I’m gonna eat all the disgusting greasy food I want, cheat at some carnival games, and ride the squirrel cages ‘til I throw up.”

“Have fun?” Danny’s nose scrunched; why exactly was ‘Dan’ telling him this? Not that he cared, on his one day off in months. With a head shake, he pointed back into the house. “Whatever. Knock yourself out. I’m gonna-”

“No you don’t.” Phantom grabbed his arm again. “You’re coming with me.”

The movement gave Danny pause. That hand wrapped around his bicep, the solid warmth of it… he knew that Vlad had stabilized Phantom in this timeline using a human clone of himself, making the figure in front of him a half ghost again. But actually seeing the reality in front of him was another thing entirely. And the demand…  “Why?”

The only answer was another eye-roll. Instead, Phantom started pulling Danny down the sidewalk. And the boy found himself following. He could keep arguing; a large part of him wanted to. He could even easily pull away – the other halfa’s grip wasn’t all that tight– but he didn’t resist. 

Instead, Danny followed his counterpart into the alley beside Fentonworks.

Hand still around his arm, familiar white rings appeared around the other’s waist. They spread, the warm light tickling Danny's skin in an eerie reflection of his own transforming light. He stiffened, watching.

His double changed, corpse blue skin replacing the human tone. Shoulder-length black hair flickered to white flames. Familiar icy blue eyes became blood red. 

Danny couldn’t help but flinch, the image playing behind his eyes, if in reverse. Cords of burning ecto energy binding him. A hellish warping of his own face, looming menacingly over him. Those same white rings, enfolding the figure into a smaller mirror image. So much worse than the towering monster -the nightmare of his enemy taking his place and hurting his loved ones.

The corpse-blue reflection filled his vision again. But now… they were truly eye to eye.

Phantom, teen-sized and equally scrawny, released him. His hard expression wavered for just a moment, brow furrowed, almost… remorseful. He stepped back. After a pause… 

“Well? Aren’t you going to ‘go ghost’?” The air quotes were audible, with more than a hint of derision. 

And yet, Danny felt his shoulders lowered ever so slightly, the anxious tamper of his heart easing. He summoned his own rings, turning into ghost form.

The two lifted from the ground, silently flying towards the fairgrounds. Danny followed his counterpart’s lead, eyes fixed on the back of the flaming head. The other ghost didn’t turn and look, gaze fixed on their destination. And that destination…

Soon, the colorful tents and rides rose into view. Music and laughter drifted through the air. Despite his swirling nerves, Danny couldn’t help the up-turned twitch of his lips.

“Here.” Phantom said gruffly, breaking Danny from his observation. The other half ghost pointed down, landing between two trailers. With a flash of light, he turned human again.

Danny did the same. A quick text to his friends to tell them where he was instead of handing out with them, and he was following his counterpart out of the fair employees’ parking lot and to the ticket counter. Phantom, surprisingly politely, bought two tickets. They passed through the gate, a cheery older woman giving the even-faced halfa a map. 

“Where to first?” Danny asked, hands in his pockets. He gave a deceptively casual shrug.

The other didn’t look up for a long moment, nose buried in the map. His brow wrinkled in contemplation, like this was the most important decision he’d ever make. 

Then, he pointed. “There. I need to see the biggest pumpkin in the state.”

Danny raised a brow, but he didn’t question. Wordlessly, he followed the other half ghost through the crowds and into a large white building. They passed through the door, the crowded barn smelling musty, of straw and barnyard animals. 

All the while, Phantom’s even severe expression didn’t change. Flat faced and silent, his eyes flitted over the giant pumpkins and watermelons. Slowly, he walked along the rows of painted gourds and prize-winning apples. Through the bee-keeping display. Passed the glass case holding someone’s grandma’s first place honey candy. 

Straw-floored pens held bleating lambs and wide-eyed calves. These didn’t crack that disaffected scowl. Nor the tiny piglets. Not even the fluffy baby chicks.

All the while, Danny’s stomach churned with conflict. Earlier he’d flippantly thought he didn’t care what ‘Dan’ did but that was a lie. Now his muscles pulled tense, ill at ease. His mind flickered back to the fight, to throwing down the thermos. The realization of how cruel, how unfair it would be to imprison the ghost in front of him again. 

And now… said ghost was watching a carton of eggs under heat lamps. Around him, small children pressed curious palms to the glass. 

Danny had decided not to lock Phantom up again. He’d chosen to give ‘Dan’ a second chance. He’d agreed to Vlad’s plan to help the other ghost. And he desperately hoped, desperately wanted to believe it was for the best. But… 

“Mommy! Chicky!” A little girl enthusiastically pointed at one egg sporting a tiny hole.

But… Danny certainly didn’t want to hang out with his counterpart. He remembered…. The graves, the rubble, the crazed laughter. The nightmares he’d had for months after seeing that ruined future. The twisted bodies, his own hands covered in blood, the world aflame.

And now, the author of that ruin was here. And frankly, Danny didn’t trust him. Of course he didn't. And here in public, around so many children…. The thought was making his stomach turn.

A finger gently tapped the glass of the incubator. Danny tensed, carefully eyeing the other half ghost. Power swirled in his core, ready to intervene if necessary.

“There you go.” The words were almost so low to be inaudible, spoken toward the glass, to the hatching egg. 

Danny’s energy stilled even so slightly. He watched his counterpart, head tilted. 

Phantom just stood there, watching. “Good job, little guy.” Something sparked in his eyes. Just the subtlest wrinkle of his brow, the twitch of his lips….

The other half ghost felt something in his loosen. Hardly even realizing it, he let out the breath he’d been holding.

Suddenly, the other’s head turned sharply. “What are you looking at?”

Just like that, the moment broke. Innocently, Danny raised his hands. “What’s next?” 

Phantom huffed, eyes narrowed. He whipped out the map, studying it again. “Pig races.” He answered curtly, turning and walking away without a look back. Of course, Danny followed.

Phantom demanded they find some pig races to watch, and they did. A short walk found the two at the sawdust covered track. Metal bleachers surrounded the arena, crowded with people. Tired parents with strollers, carrying bags of cotton candy and huge stuffed animals. An old couple, the husband in a trucker hat, the wife carrying an oversized bag. A few twenty somethings, scandalously eating pork barbeque in front of the pigs.

The two half ghosts managed a seat on the end of the bench, beside a little boy wearing a tiny plastic pig nose and vibrating with excitement.

“When are the piggys gonna race, Daddy?” The child bothered his father, who patiently showed him the time again. 

“One more minute.” The man ruffled his son’s hair. 

Just then, the sound of a trumpet sounded. The announcer swaggered into the center. “It’s Pig Racin’ Time!” The southern accent came on long and thick. “Good morning and welcome pig racing fans to the Hogway Speedway…”

With wide spread arms and charming enthusiasm, their host masterfully engaged the crowd. He introduced the racers, hogs punnifuly named after different Nascar drivers. The trumpet sounded again, the crowd shouting the name of their section’s chosen racer. And the pigs were off.

Danny watched his counterpart much more than the sprinting pigs. Phantom’s eyes followed the track, lips pressed closed and even. The expression was strange; it wasn’t that ‘Dan’ didn’t want to be there. It was like he was unsure…

“Hamica!” The little boy sitting to Phantom’s side shouted above the crowd. “Go Hamica!” The child jumped out of his seat. 

The sound swelled, the cheering and stomping shaking the benches. The little boy hopped up and down, small body carelessly slamming into Phantom in his excitement.

For just a moment, Danny’s breath caught again. Then….

“Number 10! Hamica Patrick wins!” The announcer shouted while the pigs gobbled up their prize of cheese doodles. 

“Our piggy won!” The little boy clapped. “She won! Did you see?” He turned to Phantom, starry eyes blind to the halfa’s tense posture. 

Wait. Why was the other half ghost tense?

The child continued. “She won! Everyone was cheering so loud and our piggy won.” 

“Yeah…” Phantom finally answered quietly, giving an almost sad shrug.

With that, the boy lowered his raised hands. “You weren’t cheering.” Lips pursed seriously; maybe he was picking up on the seeming-teen’s odd mode. “You havta cheer next race. Everyone's supposed ta cheer!”

Meanwhile the boy’s father was giving apologetic looks, trying to get his son’s attention back to the race. “The duck’s are going next. Don’t you want to see?”

The boy pointed at ‘Dan’ demandingly. “You havta cheer.”

“Alright, Alright.” Phantom put up his hands and… he smiled. “I’ll cheer.” 

Again, Danny felt like he was looking at an alternate reality. His counterpart was smiling. Not malicious or teasing. Nor mocking or crazed but…

“I’ll cheer. But…” That genuine smile cracked brighter. “You have to cheer even louder. So loud everyone’s eardrums bleed.”

Well… he was being a little macabre. But the little boy was laughing brightly all the same. 

And Phantom kept his word. “Oinkheart! You better run!” He did cheer, as loud and enthusiastic as any other pig racing fan.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Danny’s own even lips cracked into a smile. He cheered too, just as loud as Phantom.

The pigs races finished, the host announcing the next show while selling plastic pig noses and pooping pig keychains to the parents of excitable kids. Then a quick trip to the ATM and Phantom pulled Danny towards the fair games. 

“That one.” The black clad ghost’s eyes fixed on a wall of balloons. Various prizes including a five feet long stuffed shark hung from the stall.

Phantom handed over a few bills. He fingered the darts, carefully aiming with furrowed brow. He threw, the projectile sailing straight for its target. “Yes!” He cheered, only for the dart to harmlessly hit the balloon and fall. 

Danny frowned suspiciously, unintentionally mirroring the other half ghost. Still both said nothing. Instead, Phantom just threw the rest of his darts. One by one, each failed to pop a balloon.

“Come on.” Danny shook his head knowingly. “Let’s try another game.” Trust that the first one they try would be rigged.

“No.” Phantom grumbled, giving the attendant a few more bills. “I’m going to get it.”

Again, the seeming-teen carefully tested the aim of the dart, fixed on his target. Then… his gaze shifted for just a second, fixing on the other half ghost. His eyes flashed red, a purposeful smirk in them. Danny's brows furrowed in question.

The dart flew through the air, again harmlessly bouncing off the balloon and falling. Except this time, a second later the rubber sphere popped with a startling bang.

Danny flinched, shocked. For just a moment, a misty person-shaped outline wavered in front of the wall, a long clawed finger outstretched toward the balloon’s carcass.

Phantom smirked, self satisfied. Then his knees buckled.

Before he could register, Danny’s arms were wrapping around his counterpart’s shoulders, stabilizing the other half ghost.

“Is he okay?” The attendant asked, eyes wide with concern.

Was Phantom okay? He frowned down at the pale, shaky figure. His stomach flopped, feeling unbalanced. What was happening? 

Danny shook the unease away. “He’s fine. Just needs something to drink.”

The fair worker still looked worried, brows furrowed, but didn’t argue as Danny started pulling Phantom away.

“Wait. I won.” The other complained. “My shark.”

Danny gave him a dubious look but without a word, accepted the giant plushie from the worker. Holding the shark under one arm, he helped Phantom forward with the other. True to his excuse, he did steer them towards a truck selling lemonade. The two slid to the window, Danny handing over the money.

“I can stand by myself.” Phantom grumbled, just as the server handed over the two cups.

Unceremoniously, Danny unhanded his counterpart who ripped the shark from his grip. 

For a few minutes, the two silently shuffled forward, finally finding an empty bench. They sat, drinking their drinks. Phantom wouldn’t meet his eyes, head fixed down, almost as if embarrassed.

Finally, Danny broke the tense moment. “What was that about?”

The other seeming-teen looked up tentatively, almost sheepish, before shrugging forcibly casual. “I said I wanted to win at some carnival games. Don’t give me shit about it.”

Danny shook his head. “No. You almost fainted. Because you were, what, using a duplicate to cheat at balloon darts?”

“It’s not a big deal.” ‘Dan’ made a point of looking at his fingernails. “Just over did it. Stupid… I need to be more strategic next time.”

“Or just.. Not use your powers to cheat?” 

Phantom’s eyes narrowed. “I said not to give me crap.” His arms crossed, the perfect picture of a petulant teen. “It’s not like I started melting this time.”

Danny’s eyes popped wide. “That doesn’t make it any better!”

“Like you give a shit.” The other halfa sneered. “You’ve been avoiding me like the plague. I’m stuck here, shoved in this tiny, scrawny body. With all the hormones and the acne and my powers barely working. It’s like I actually am a kid again. The fruitloop keeps trying to act like he’s my dad now, making me go to therapy and shit.” His hands waved, pointing at Danny. “And you’re off, doing god knows what, playing the hero. Trying to completely forget about me.”

Danny’s mind spun, trying to process the onslaught. That last part… “Wait, that’s not-”

“This was a mistake.” Phantom stood abruptly. “I see how you keep tensing up whenever I do anything. Like I’m five seconds away from ripping everyone’s head off.” He grabbed his lemonade and stuffed shark. “I don’t know why I even bothered. I wanted to tell you, show you that I was-.” He growled, cutting himself off. “Go do what you want.” The half ghost turned, stomping off.

For a long second, Danny just stared after him, thoughts churning. The other’s figure grew farther and farther away. Then…

“Wait!” Danny’s mind clicked back into action. “Wait!” He jumped up, running after his counterpart. “Dan! Wait!” 

Within seconds, he caught up. “Dan.” And wasn’t that strange, using the name the other half ghost had given him for the first time. Danny shook away the thought. “Dan. I’m… I’m sorry.”

Phantom… Dan stopped walking, giving him a dubious look. “Yeah right.”

“No, I am sorry. You showed up at my house and dragged me here because you actually want to hang out with me, right?” 

Dan didn’t respond verbally, just gave the ‘you’re stupid’ look again. 

Danny didn’t let that cow him, instead forcing himself to continue. “You’re… you’re right, I have been ignoring you. And that’s not fair. I can’t even imagine why you want to spend time with me but…” The flickers of hurt in Dan’s face, the tension like… he was afraid of miss-stepping. Reasons churned in his head, nebulous and indistinct but so close to focus. His guts twisted; he wasn’t ready to face this, whatever this was. 

“But you do.” Danny continued. “And we’re here. So let’s buy some greasy food, ride some rides, and play more games. But no more cheating.” He pointed severely.

For just a moment, Dan’s hard expression softened, visibly letting out a breath. “Alright.” Then his eyes rolled, pointing back. “And yes more cheating.” The corner of his lip turned up. “I know for a fact you cheated at the spring carnival to get that stuffed bat for Sam.”

Danny stumbled over a response. That was true but…

“It’s not going to kill anyone.” 

Again Danny felt like he was hit in the head. The understanding, almost compassionate look Dan gave him…. It somehow wasn’t a joke. 

Danny couldn’t help but notice his stomach drop. Still, he rolled his own eyes. “I guess it won’t hurt.”

With that, the two went off to find more games. 

“How about this one?” Danny motioned to one stall, a line of water guns set up opposite a line of moving targets. 

Dan raised an appraising eyebrow. “How am I supposed to cheat at that?” He muttered.

The teen gave him a light elbow jab in response. “I’m sure you can figure it out.” His voice lowered conspiratorially. “Plus it’s Vlad’s money. Who cares how much we waste?”

Dan looked almost surprised. “You have a point.”

The pair bought two seats. They played several rounds, not winning once. 

“Come on!” Danny put up his hands. “It’s like half an inch away!” The dolphin-shaped racing marker smiled down mockingly, barely failing to reach the finish line. 

The fair worker shrugged helplessly. “So close but so far. I’m sure you’ll get it next time.”

Danny’s eyes narrowed. Oh yeah, next time for sure. Then again… if they gave it another go, maybe?

“I’m bored with this.” Dan interrupted his debating, pulling him off his seat by the back of his collar. “Oh. Those headphones look sweet.”

He marched up to a set of basketball hoops, set up fair behind a metal barrier. Sure enough, a pair of sleek black over-the-headphones hung from the side. 

“I see you eyeing these beauties.” The host’s voice projected. “Real Beats, would you believe it? Three shots to win them. Three in a row! Are you up to the challenge?” 

Dan’s eyes narrowed, wickedly smug. “Of course, I am.” 

The black-clad halfa handed over the money, receiving a ball. He stood in front of the line, lining up the shot. Again, his eyes flashed ever so subtly. And he threw. The ball sailed through the air. It bounced off the backboard. Then its edge hit the hoop and it wobbled, starting to fall out.

Danny’s shoulders fell, disappointed at the near shot.

Then, impossibly, the ball wobbled the other direction, falling neatly into the hoop. 

Danny’s mouth fell open. How was that possible?

The game’s host looked just as shocked for a moment. Then, schooling himself, he collected the ball. “Lucky shot.” He handed it back to Dan, who just wordlessly smirked.

The dark-clothed halfa lopped his second shot, then his third. Each landed perfectly. Suspiciously perfectly. 

“That’s three for the three.” The fair worker looked somewhere between stunned and suspicious. Still, he handed the headphones over.

Dan accepted the prize with a grin. “I guess I’m just lucky.” He had the audacity to shrugged casually, the movement in sharp contrast to the smugness radiating off of him.

Danny didn’t have it in him to begrudge the other half ghost his success though. The two walked off, in search of another game. 

They’d walked for about a minute, out of sight of the basketball stall and Danny couldn’t keep his surprise in anymore. “How did you do that?” He asked, almost awed.

“Just simple telekinesis.” This time, Dan’s shrug was legitimately casual. 

“Telekinesis? But…”

“Wait.” The seeming-teen stopped in his tracks, seeming to pick up on the other’s stunned confusion. “You can’t do telekinesis yet? How?” He turned to look at Danny, a mirror of his own confusion. “That’s as easy as breathing. How…” He chuckled. “How don’t you have that power yet?”

“Well, excuse me.” Danny frowned, hands on his hips; he didn’t appreciate being laughed at. “Not all of us have Plasmius’ powers and expertise downloaded right into our head.”

“What? No.” Somehow, Dan sounded even more stunned. “That’s not… Even if that was how that worked…” He looked almost… queasy saying the words. “Plasmius doesn’t have telekinesis.”

“But… yes he does.” Danny tried to argue. Vlad had definitely fought him with telekinesis before. Right?

“He can’t move things with his mind.” The other half ghost shook his head vehemently. “He’s never been able to. Not even now. I’ve tried to explain it a bunch of times.” He pointed severely. “And not out of the goodness of my heart. He wouldn’t stop annoying the shit out of me about how to do it…. And Vlad can’t do it.”

Danny blinked once, twice. “And… you’re serious. You’re not messing with me?”

“Not about this.” Dan rolled his eyes. With a quick look around, they flickered red again. An aura seeped out of his hands, surrounding the newly won headphones. “This telekinesis is one hundred percent Phantom.” The prize hovered off his palm ever so slightly, bathed in green light. 

The other half ghost studied the floating object. It was an impressive show, even more shocking that Vlad apparently couldn’t do it while Dan could so easily. Speaking of easily… Danny raised a brow, teasingly. “Maybe not one hundred percent Phantom. Since you’re not the only one, what with, Box Ghost, Lunch Lady, Technus-”

“Shut up.” Dan elbowed him, surprisingly gently, not a hint of malice in the words. “And I guess we’re not the only ones.”

Danny blinked once, surprised for just a moment. Then… “Oh right. I guess I’ll be able to do that at some point.”

Dan shrugged, the light around the headphones winking out as he caught them. “Want me to teach you?”

“Really?” The other half ghost asked, skeptical.

“Somehow you haven’t figured it out yet.” The other snarked back. Was he… blushing? “And how else are you supposed to cheat at fair games?”

For just a second there was the impulse to snark back; he still didn’t really want to cheat. But Dan was offering, authentically offering to teach him something. And Danny had said he was going to actually give this hanging out thing a shot

“Sure. I’d love it if you showed me how to do it.” Danny said, surprised at his own sincerity. 

Dan gave a nod. “Come on then.” He pulled the teen along, searching for an at least somewhat secluded place. After nearly ten minutes of looking… “This will do.”

They wedged between two stalls, the busy sound of fair goers waiting for food and workers calling out orders at their backs. The alley smelt of roasted turkey, cotton candy, and the sour tang of throw up. The perfect place for an impromptu lesson. 

“That’s going to be your target.” Dan pointed to an abandoned beer bottle. “First…”

After about ten minutes of unsuccessfully getting his younger counterpart to understand, Dan looked just about ready to pull out his hair. “No. You have to reach out. Like the power’s an extension of you.”

“Sorry, but that doesn’t make any sense.” Danny also wanted to pull out his hair.

“Okay, fine. Here. Let’s try this.” Dan grabbed his hand and-

“The fuck!” Danny just about screamed as his counterpart’s hand phased inside his. “What…” He panted, panic suddenly clawing at his throat. “Are you doing?!”

“Bad idea.” Dan was also panting, eyes blown wide. “Bad idea. Too late now.” He pinched red-flickering eyes closed. “We’re like three steps away from being the same person. I should be able to tell your core exactly what to do.”

“Okay?!” Still, Danny’s heart pounded, mind racing back. Dan’s hand, in chest. The solid gear clicking into place. Belittling laughter.

“I’m not…” Dan growled. “That’s not me anymore. I won’t hurt you.”

That was ridiculous. This was crazy. Why did he even agree to doing this? Any of this? Hanging out with Dan, learning from him? Just letting him wander around free?! Why did he trust him? He tried to trust him and this-

Like cold water rushing over him, heavy bricks falling. An immaterial wall shattered. Emotions flooded in. Pain, fear, guilt, regret. But not… not his.

Danny struggled to force his eyes open. When had he closed them?

Dan’s eyes, the same as his own, half a foot from his. They rounded, sincere, desperate. “I’m sorry. Just let me help….”

An exhale. There was a line that had been a solid wall. There was Danny and there was Dan. And Danny could see, he could feel over the line, into his counterpart’s self. The anger, the prickliness, the spite, the smugness. It was all a cover. A pathetic cover over the guilt, the fear, the regret, the pain. 

A small, tentative nudge at his own core. Comfort, reassurance. He was out of practice.

Danny looked away, at his right hand. The one uncannily possessed. His stomach lurched violently. “Do whatever it is you were going to do.”

“I’m trying!” Dan grit his teeth. “Stop fighting.”

Stop fighting? How was he supposed to-

A hand wrapped around his core, not crushing but… comfortably warm. Behind his eyes… 

Rain dripping down the windows, the world dark and gray. A huge, canopied bed. At his bedside, a picture of his family, the glass shattered.

“Danny?” A voice far away. “Danny?” He couldn’t will his head to lift, not after- 

“Danny?” The boy blinked and he was back in that smelly alley. Fingers snapped in front of his face. “Pay attention.” Eyes focused on… Dan. Right.

Wordlessly, Danny nodded. 

“Let’s get this over with.” His counterpart shook his head. His brow furrowed in concentration. And Danny felt his own core act.

Energy swirled around, flowing down to his fingertips and passed them. It stretched, ghostly fingers brushing the bottle. Then, as easy as moving his physical fingers, they wrapped around the target. The object lifted, eerily floating above the dirty ground. Gently it moved side and side of Dan’s volition. With hardly a shared thought, the black-clade half ghost gave over control. Roughly, Danny grabbed the bottle, setting it spinning in the air.

“Wow.” Danny gave a laugh. “Why didn’t you just say that?”

The other halfa rolled his eyes. “Try moving two things at once.”

The shared hand flexed, Dan guiding the movement while Danny acted. His telekinesis reached out, enwrapping a small pebble. It lifted, dipped, and spun. 

At the same time, the bottle dropped. Reaching out with his other physical hand, Danny felt his power stretch. He let out a sigh of relief, catching the object.

For a few more minutes, Danny flexed his new power. His aura wrapped around handfuls of trash, the pieces bobbing in the air. They spun around the pair. First slowly, then faster and faster. Like dirty little moons circling a planet. 

Slowly, a smile grew on Danny’s face. He was actually doing this! His eyes twinkled playfully, suddenly dropping all the trash.

“What? Already tired?” Dan asked. 

The other half ghost didn’t dignify the question. Instead, he jerkily pulled the shark into the air. He sent it in a slow circle around them. Closer and closer, all the while humming. 

“Is that the Jaws theme-”

Danny rammed the shark into his counterpart’s side. 

The plush snoot had Dan bending forward dramatically. His eyes narrowed. And Danny’s smile disappeared. Maybe that had been a step too far; he was getting too comfortable. Then…

Dan rolled his eyes. “Oh, you can effectively attack me with plushies. Color me impressed.” The words came out thick with sarcasm, not the least bit amused. But underneath…

A feeling like subdued laughter brushed Danny’s core. 

The smile wavered back into place. “You say that all serious but…” Just hint of a smirk. “You thought that was hilarious.”

“I did not.” Dan tried to deny. But standing side by side, core open to Danny’s prodding, he had no leg to stand on. “It’s this stupid teenage brain.” He lifted a hand pleadingly. “The meat suit thinks the dumbest things are funny. I’m…I’m a big scary grown up ghost, I swear!”

He sounded so desperate, it was almost funny. Danny struggled not to laugh. “Sure you are.”

For a moment more, Dan pouted, eyes trying to argue his point. Then… he huffed. “Fine. It was funny.” 

Effortlessly, he pulled his incorporeal hand out of Danny’s. The other half ghost shivered, feeling oddly bare as the background nose of Dan’s emotions faded away. 

Across from him, Dan’s arms were crossed, eyes fixed down.

Danny’s brow furrowed. What exactly was Dan’s deal? Flip flopping between emotions. He was snarking and joking one minute and then the next, clamming up and serious. He wanted to be having fun, and then admitting that he was enjoying himself the worst possible thing ever. Part of Danny was at a loss, at his wit’s end. How was he supposed to deal with this? 

But another part… the glimpses he caught from the other’s core. The anger and harshness, covering all that pain and guilt and grief. That made sense. How many times had Danny himself put on a brave face while he was hurting? 

There was another layer though. Uncertainty, insecurity, loneliness. 

So much there and Danny had no idea where to start, what he could say to help, to make it better. 

So he offered what comfort he could. “It’s okay if you thought it was funny, you know. It doesn’t mean you’re any less badass or terrifying or whatever.” He shrugged. “Plus, we’re here to have fun. Let yourself actually enjoy it.”

The other half ghost’s shoulders loosened. He looked up and… for a long moment, there was something heavy and serious in his eyes. His mouth opened and closed, chewing on the thought. Then….

“Al… alright then. Let’s go have some fun.” Dan finally said, seemingly letting the heavy words go, for now at least.

“Yeah.” Danny gave him a hearty pat on the back. “I saw one of those milk bottle toss games with a bunch of giant plushies. Wanna play that?”

“Sure.” Dan shrugged. Then pointedly. “And I expect you to use our lesson.”

“Of course.” Danny replied airly. “Can’t have you shoving your hand intangibly into me for nothing.”

“Again, I blame the teenage brain. You get forcibly de-aged and all the common sense goes out the window.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Danny waved him off. “You don’t see me complaining.”

“You haven’t been de-aged before, have you?” Dan raised a brow. 

“Well no, but…” He trailed off, at a loss for a response to the seeming-teen. Or rather, just teen. The thought almost knocked him off his feet…. Dan actually was his age again, wasn’t he?

“Thought so.” The other teen snorted, ignoring the odd look. Then pointing. “There’s your milk bottle toss.” He blinked. “What the hell is that?”

Danny’s brow furrowed, just as confused at the ambiguous giant stuffed animal. “A cat? Racoon? Maybe a red panda, except… you know, green?”

Dan rubbed his chin, deadpan serious. “Ah, the famed green cacooanda. Of course.”

That earned an appreciative snort from the other half ghost. “Nice.”

Despite his earlier sarcasm and resistance, Danny fully intended to use what Dan had taught him. A few telekinesis assisted ring tosses and he was walking away from the stand with his own green cacooanda. 

“I can’t believe it.” Dan said, dubious. “You actually did it.” He gave a scoff, his typical haughtiness as present as ever. But a twinkle in the corner of his eye…. Dan not-so-secretly looked proud. 

More games followed. Wack-a-mole. Skee-Ball. The Shooting Gallery. Darts. Ring the Bell. Even Duck Pond and Bingo. The pair hit up every one, until all the game hosts eyed the two suspiciously, muttering about calling security, much to Dan’s amusement.

“That was satisfying.” The black-clade teen smirked, carrying his collection of cheating-won spoils. “How ya feel about getting burgers?”

“Yeah.” Danny nodded. His eyes nervously flittered over the booth, still wary of being caught cheating. But… he smiled down at his own pair of headphones and the stuffed bear he planned to give to Jazz; his stomach leapt, giddy at the thrill. Slowly, he grinned. “There’s a bunch of stalls set up by local charities and stuff near the South Gate. The food’s normally good and not that pricey.”

“Awesome.” Dan agreed with a nod.

They grabbed lunch, sitting at one of the picnic tables in front of the impromptu restaurants. Neither really talked. Not that Danny minded. That had been the pattern for most of the morning and early afternoon, conversation revolving around what game to play next, which prizes either had their eyes on.

Now, Dan chewed his burger, the corner of his lip subtly lifted. At the same time, his eyes flitted from stall to stall, drifting over the crowds of people. People watching. Just the smallest hint of awe and curiosity flickered in his eyes.

Danny watched all this, his own lips quirking slightly.

Next came the rides. After a quick discussion about what to do with their prizes – they really should have waited until after to play the games – and finding a place to phase them into the ground for later, the two hurried to the midway. So many options stretched in front of them, Dan’s eyes practically shining with excitement. 

“We have to do the Gravitron first.” The black-clad teen pulled Danny through the crowds.

As they rounded the corner, the ride appeared before them. Danny could almost feel his eyes go heart-shaped. His heart picked up, airly giddy. It was shaped like a spaceship!

“Come on!” It was Danny’s turn to tug his counterpart onward. 

With fastpass bracelets, the two boarded the ride. Back against the padded wall, the boy grinned as the lights started flashing and everything started spinning. 

“Yeah! Woa!” People cheered and screamed as the ride rotated faster and faster. 

Without even a belt to hold him in place, Danny’s back pressed against the wall, the weight of gravity overwhelming. Suddenly, the panels slid up, the lady to his right shouting in surprise. The boy’s feet rose off the floor, body held in place solely by the centrifugal force. He just shouted louder.

Far too soon, the ride slowed, the panels slotting back into place and feet returning to the floor. The spinning gradually stopped and the force of gravity lessened to its normal weight. 

Danny’s ears rang slightly, balance wobbly and stomach churning; boy was he glad they hadn't pigged out on too much greasy food yet. Still, his heart pounded, a buzz with adrenaline. He grinned. “Let’s do that again!”

Ride again, they did. A second spin and then a third had Dan grinning with him, eager to try something else. 

“The drop tower?” The teen pointed. And the pair was rushing off again.

The tilt-a-whirl. An upside down swinging Pirate Ship. The Round-up, the Gravitron’s almost vertically spinning cousin. 

The two half ghosts took turns choosing which to ride next and excitedly pulling each other across the midway.

“What’s this one?” Danny pointed. “Music Express?”

“Looks kinda boring.” The other half ghost shrugged. “Let’s try it.” 

The cars formed a circle, alternating flat and sloped sections making the track look lop-sided. The two picked a car, Dan sliding in first. Danny sat beside him, the metal bar over their laps locking them into place. Again, music started and they were off.

The circle of cars rotated, first slowly and evenly. Honestly, indeed a little boring. Then…

“What wants to go faster?!” The operator yelled into the microphone. 

The riders screamed their agreement, the music speeding up. The cars spun faster. Laughter and shouts rang out; Danny’s screams joined the merry noise, caught up in the joy around him. 

Then, he slammed into Dan, his shout choking. The spinning force pulled him towards the center and right into his car-mate. His hip and shoulder dug into the other teen, Dan’s own enthusiastic shouting cutting out. The black-clad teen’s mouth snapped shut, face going beat red in mortification.

“Your.. your face!” Danny burst out laughing, unable to keep the amusement in.

Dan just wordlessly shoved Danny’s face away. 

The ride continued for a few more minutes, the rotation even reversing and sending the cars backwards. All the while, Danny laughed, a large part of him enjoying Dan’s discomfort. 

Finally, the music slowed, movement trickling to a stop. The ride over, Danny exited first. He offered his hand to help his counterpart out. 

“I guess this one’s on the no list, huh?” Danny asked, taking pity. 

Dan took the offered hand. “Nah. I want to go again.”

“Oh?” The other teen blinked once, surprised.

“Yes. You’re sitting on the inside next time.” His teeth flashed mischievously. 

“Guess I deserve that one.” Danny chuckled. 

Sure enough, they rode again, this time Danny suffering through being crushed by his seat companion. Dan laughed somewhat evilly all the while, reveling in the discomfort just as much as Danny had earlier.

Bumper cars. Three different mini-coasters. A few turns on the Racing Slide. A surprisingly disorienting house of mirrors, followed by a ridiculously lame “haunted house.” Even the good old carousel and ferris wheel. 

Conversation drifted, most trivial but some… almost serious.

The fairwheel ground to a stop, the pair hanging at the apex. “So… how does it work?” Danny asked, casually looking at his nails. 

Dan gave him a suspicious look. “How does what work?” 

“If you didn’t just download Vlad’s expertise…then how does it work?”

The other teen stiffened slightly, eyes fixed far away on the Amity Park skyline. “It’s mainly emotions. I mean, you and Vlad figured that out. Ghosts are made of emotions. And there’s… they’re not really memories, I guess. More like… the shape of them.” Slowly, the car started descending. “Like I watch football with Vlad… because he’s into it and won’t shut up about father-son bonding.” Dan narrowed his eyes pointedly. “And I find myself liking it.” He stuck out his tongue. “And the weird images of boring board rooms. And Maddie with long hair. It was so curly then, falling against her cheeks…” He grimaced. “Sometimes I really wish I hadn’t eaten Plasmius.” 

The words were so blunt, so casual; Danny choked on air. Dan ignored his hacking. “I mean… I think I would have just faded away if I hadn’t so…” He shrugged.

Danny blinked at him. What was he supposed to say to that? A response did niggle at his mind though…and to his horror, the question slipped out. “What did he… taste like?” 

“The grossest cheese ever.”

Danny and Dan enjoyed all the rides the fair had to offer, the afternoon gradually giving way to evening. The sun set, the warmth of the day becoming the chill of night. The lines grew longer, teens and young adults piling in to enjoy the bright lights and music. Still, the two were unbothered by the waits, thanks to their blessed fastpasses. 

The night stretched on, every ride enjoyed to the two teens’ hearts’ content. And finally…

“The squirrel cages.” Dan spread his arms, practically beaming up at the towering mess of metal. “Saving the best for last.” 

“Yes!” Danny’s stomach leapt, queasily excited. 

They boarded one of the odd, apostrophe-shaped cars. The plush bench sat under them, metal bars and mesh cradling the two riders. The center, oblong frame creaked, beginning to spin. The car rose into the air, swinging. 

The sound of more people being loaded onto the ride rang out below. Danny held his breath in anticipation. Any second now…

A sudden jolt of movement. Beside him, Dan gasped. 

The center rotated, the cage swaying violently. Rising higher and higher in the air. Danny’s heart fluttered. They reached the top… A burst of speed and everything spun. Both boys screamed, the cage flipping end over end. 

A flurry of movement, the world turning. The inky-black sky flashed into view, then the thousand glittering lights of the fair loomed below. The sky, the ground, the sky, the ground. The scene flickered. On and on. 

Screams reverberated, terrified and elated. Weight shifted, the car turning and flipping. Danny’s heart pounded, his stomach in his throat.

Far too soon, the ride ended. Danny looked over at his counterpart, both’s eyes blown wide. “Go again?”

Dan nodded eagerly. 

They rode again. And again. And again. 

Head over heels, the world turned in flashes of light and dark. Danny’s ears rang, shouts and cheers filling his brain. His head swam. Pressed side by side with Dan, hands grasps to the bars over the door. His veins filled with more adrenaline than blood. In every molecule… terror, giddiness, elation. 

The joy bubbled up, first in a smile. A grin. A shout. A laugh. The cackle burst out, unrestrained. Beside him, Dan’s guffaws rang in kind. The laughter filled his world, his mind. Dan’s laugh and his… they were the same laugh, but also so different. Chests and shoulders shook, the delight too much to hold. 

The two half ghosts laughed and laughed and laughed. 

They laughed until they couldn’t breathe. Until the ride stopped and both stumbled out of the car. Until Danny, one arm around the other’s shoulders, helped a green-faced, wobbling Dan past the ride operator and the line of waiting riders, and the other teen threw up on his shoes. 

“Stupid clone body.” Dan complained without heat, whipping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“That’s just being human.” Danny laughed. 

“Well, can my body not?” He rolled his eyes, the orbs still sparkling with mirth. “Eating and sleeping are great, really, but I could do without the ability to vomit.”

“Hey, you’re doing better than my first time. You lasted for more than one ride.” The other half ghost shrugged, the movement bringing his counterpart just the tiniest bit closer. “When we went to the fair when I was eleven, I was finally tall enough. I begged to ride. Jazz and Mom absolutely refused, the chickens. But Dad rode with me. It was the best thing ever. We flipped so many times.” His speech grew faster with his excitement. “I was so dizzy after. Stumbling around like I’d just drunk a six-pack. I wobbled up to Jazz, told her she was a chicken and missed the best ride ever and…” A snort burst forth, threatening to choke his words. “I threw up all over her! I’d eaten so much cotton candy before, it was bright blue! And little bits of popcorn and hotdogs.” Danny held his stomach with one arm. “You should have seen her face.” He giggled lost in the memory, in the lingering adrenaline rush. 

Beside him, Dan shook his head in amusement. “I remember. I was there.”

“Yeah.” Danny laughed. “I guess you were… there.” He trailed off, the meaning finally hitting him. Eyes trailing over, to his counterpart’s face. Similar to his, not just because the human body was a clone, but… “I guess you were.” 

Something shifted between the two, in that meeting of eyes. An unspoken understanding lingered. That heaviness that had flashed in Dan’s eyes, right after their lesson…. It leered, visible but not weighty. 

“Come on.” Danny finally offered, smile gentle. “You wanted to eat a bunch of greasy food today. Think your stomach is up to it?”

“Of course.” The other flashed his teeth playfully.

The two weaved through the midway, away from crowded rides. They passed tens of food stalls, visiting at least a half dozen for all the staples. Cotton Candy, Kettle Corn, Candy Apples. They got the best ice cream from a local farm’s stand and incredible homemade pumpkin fudge. And so much fried food- a red-velvet funnel cake, corn dogs, fried pickles, bacon-wrapped fried Reeses’, and the famed, delectable fried oreos. 

With their haul, they walked past the fairy-light lit garden displays, plants of all shapes and sizes swaying in the breeze. Clangs sounded from the old-fashioned blacksmith’s shop, curious onlookers’ faces lit by the fire light. A bluegrass band played on the lawn to ground-shaking stomps and cheers.

“This looks like a good spot.” Danny motioned. 

They’d wandered to an empty spot on the grass, near the pond at the edge of the fairgrounds. Dan gave a nod, carefully putting down his portion of the food.

And so the two teens sat and ate. Lights flickered on the water. At their backs, music spun. Fiddle and mandolin sang, soft and slow in some kind of lullaby.  

The quiet weighed but… not heavy, not oppressive. It encompassed, gentle and protective, like a blanket. Dan ate slowly, unhurried. His eyes drifted over the lake, gaze on the gentle lapping water. But his mind was elsewhere.

And Danny watched his companion. Not tense and distrusting as before but patient, ready to talk when Dan needed.

The lullaby ended to cheers. The sound petered out, the set ending. The murmurs of the crowd ebbed away. 

The wind picked up, movement catching Danny’s eye. At the other side of the pond, the trees swayed. Needles and pine cones ruffled, falling to the water with tiny plops. 

“Do you really think I’m terrifying?” Dan finally broke the silence.

Danny turned, eyes wide. Of all the questions to ask, he hadn’t been expecting that. “Why do you ask?” He swallowed, eyes darting away evasively.

“Earlier…you said having fun doesn’t make me any less terrifying or whatever. But that’s not…” Dan looked down, picking at his nails. “I don’t care about being scary. I don’t… I don’t wanna be like that. That’s not why… I don’t deserve… that’s not…” He stumbled over the words, finally gritting out. “Just answer the question.”

For just a second, Danny’s stomach twisted; his impulse was to lie. But… back in the alley, his core brushing Dan’s. A door opened between them. And… a door, once opened, may be walked through from either side.

He couldn’t lie, not about this.

Danny swallowed, nodding. “After I saw your future and the CAT and everything… I had so many nightmares. Mostly about you escaping.” The evil laughter, terror on his friend’s faces, Amity Park in rubble. He’d wake up sweating, heart pounding and ecto-blast in hand. Ready to defend. Now… his mouth felt dry, an odd feeling squeezing his core. “Those went on for months.”

“And then it happened.” Dan’s knees pulled his chest, eyes wide, haunted, and… guilty.

Numbly, Danny nodded. It had. He remembered; the rubble, the cries for help, the flames. He shivered. That reality had been erased. Clockwork fixed the timeline, like he had the first time. But it still happened. The monster from his nightmares returned, more powerful and dangerous than ever. And now….

His eyes focused. On the boy sitting across from him. That monster was here and… he wasn’t a monster at all.

And that was the hardest part. The Phantom as evil incarnate. As a twisted, unfeeling abomination. That was easy. But this Phantom? This oddly human reflection….

“I’m sorry.” Danny found himself saying. 

Dan looked up at that, blinking at him startledly. “Why the hell are you sorry?”

In a less somber setting, he might have laughed but now, Danny just shook his head. “After the CAT, I kept telling myself that I promised I’d never be like…like you.” The odd feeling squeezed again, something like guilt. “I’d never let that happen. Because… because I promised.” His head fixed down, gnawing on his lip. “Because I was stronger. I knew better now. I was better. I was… I was different somehow. But that’s… that’s a lie.” He forced his gaze back up, focused on the wide-eyed boy in front of him. “We’re… three steps from being the same person. If things had been different…”

The rain, the bed, the shattered picture frame…. That terrible scene from Dan’s memory. It was so easy to imagine that as his reality. Losing everything, his life destroyed… A twist of fate and their places could have been swapped. 

“So… I’m sorry. I’m sorry that happened to you. I’m sorry that you lost everything and that you’re stuck here. And having to deal with being 16 again and Vlad thinking he’s your dad. And…” Danny wrung his hands. “I’m sorry that I forgot…”

After the fight, when he’d thrown down the thermos, he’d realized, he’d seen it. That Phantom was hurting, in pain. That he was still just a grieving kid. But in the months since, he’d lost sight of that. “I’m sorry that I forgot you’re a person too. I forgot who you really are.”

Dan stared at him for a long moment, brow wrinkled. His mouth opened and closed a few times. Then… “You are so stupid.” Somehow, no heat was in the words. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be saying sorry. I’m supposed to be groveling, on my knees, begging. I…I destroyed the world, Danny.” His voice started to tremble. “I killed so many people. Maimed so many ghosts. Tried to kill Valerie, my only friend, so many times. I…I tried to kill Mom and Dad.” His eyes shone, taking on a glassy sheen. “Jazz, Sam and Tucker. I tried to kill all of them twice. Twice. And…” His face paled, almost queasy. “I am horrified. I am disgusted. I… It makes me sick. I hate… I hate what I did. I hate who I was. And…” Finally, tears started falling. “I don’t deserve any… any of this. I definitely don’t deserve you saying sorry to me. You… you idiot. You’re too good for your own good. And I’m… I’m just…”

Dan stuttered to a stop, words choking as he furiously whipped at his face. 

And it was Danny’s turn to stare stunned. What could he say to that? Nothing was good enough. Nothing would ever be good enough. By all accounts, Dan had done horrible things, unforgivable things. Danny had every reason to still hate and fear him. No reason at all to offer forgiveness or sympathy. But…

The empathy was there, twisting Danny’s heart into knots. Somehow, he understood. Far too well.

“Do you want a hug?” The question slipped out before Danny really considered it.

Dan, apparently completely stunned, nodded immediately.

What he’d asked hit Danny just as the response came. For a moment, he mentally berated himself; what a stupid thing to ask. Dan didn’t actually want a hug. And what was he doing trying to comfort his formerly evil, formerly older alternative self? But then again…

Danny’s resolve crumbled. He leaned over, wrapping his arms around Dan’s shoulders.

The breath-hitching sob caught Danny off guard. Dan letting his walls crumble in front of him had been unbelievable just this morning. But after the rides and games, sharing quips and food and heart-felt truths…. Now it all made sense.

The pair sat for a long time, Danny hugging his counterpart. Dan’s shoulders shook, hands balled in the back of his jacket. Tears wet his shirt. And the only sounds were his own heartbeat, Dan’s pounding right next to his. And the dark-clad teen’s soft cries. 

Gradually though, the tears slowed. The sobs quieted. The shaking stopped. Breathing slowed and evened. 

Taking a deep breath, Dan pulled away. “I… Sorry.” His face burned red, embarrassed. “That isn’t… I didn’t want to break down on you.”

“It’s okay.” Danny shook his head. “Maybe it didn’t go how you wanted. But this is why you wanted to hang out with me, right? To apologize, getting everything out in the open.”

The other half ghost nodded. “And show you that I’m…I’m different.” He wiped his eyes. “I’m trying to be better.”

“I can see that.” The skin around his eyes crinkled, dawning smile genuine. 

And Danny meant it. In a dozen little ways today, he’d witnessed it. This Dan was a far cry from the Phantom he’d fought all those months ago.

“I’m glad to hear that.” Dan gave a watery smile. 

Just then, a loud boom cut that air. Lights flashed in the sky. Fireworks above the pond. 

“Look at that.” Dan’s eyes widened, voice breathlessly awed.

The two sat, side by side watching the fireworks. Sparks danced across the sky, spheres and swirls and spirals of every color.

And Danny could never have been happier he opened that door and let Dan drag him here. He didn’t know what the future held for them, where exactly his and Dan’s relationship stood; were they friends now? Family? But… 

“Cotton Candy?” His counterpart offered, holding open the bag.

“Sure.” Danny nodded, taking the last handful.

There had been tears and apologies. A release of tension and fear and bitterness. New discoveries made and old similarities uncovered.

Danny tore the piece of floss in half, giving Dan back the other piece. 

And most importantly, the incredible chance to start again.

Dan accepted with a nod and a smile. “Thanks. For everything.” 

Reconciliation was indeed sweet. 

[neotechnomagick]

The Intersection of NLP Eye Movement Integration and the Lesser Banishing Ritual of the Pentagram: A Comparative Analysis

Introduction

Neuro-Linguistic Programming (NLP) has long been associated with cognitive restructuring and psychotherapeutic interventions. One particularly compelling technique within NLP is Eye Movement Integration (EMI), which utilizes guided eye movements to access and integrate fragmented or traumatic memories. Simultaneously, the Lesser Banishing Ritual of the Pentagram (LBRP), a foundational ceremonial magick practice from the Western esoteric tradition, employs ritualized gestures and visualizations of pentagrams to clear and harmonize psychological and spiritual space. This essay explores the striking structural similarities between EMI and the LBRP and considers the possibility that both methods engage hemispheric synchronization and cognitive integration in analogous ways.

The Structure of EMI and LBRP

Eye Movement Integration (EMI) involves tracing figure-eight (∞) or infinity-loop movements with the eyes while engaging in conscious recall of emotionally charged experiences. According to NLP theories, this process activates both hemispheres of the brain, allowing for greater coherence in how memories are processed and reintegrated (Bandler & Grinder, 1982). EMI techniques suggest that deliberate movement across specific spatial axes stimulates neural pathways responsible for sensory and emotional integration (Ward, 2002).

Similarly, the LBRP involves a structured sequence of visualized pentagrams drawn in the cardinal directions, accompanied by divine names and ritual gestures. This sequence is designed to invoke protective forces and create a harmonized psychic field. According to the Golden Dawn tradition (Cicero, 1998), the act of tracing the pentagram is intended to engage multiple layers of cognition: visual-spatial processing, linguistic invocation, and kinesthetic anchoring.

Shared Cognitive and Psychological Mechanisms

Bilateral Stimulation and Neural Integration

Both EMI and LBRP involve movements across spatial dimensions that engage both brain hemispheres.

EMI’s horizontal and diagonal eye movements mimic the process of following the pentagram’s path in ritual, possibly facilitating left-right hemisphere synchronization (Bandler & Grinder, 1982).

Symbolic Encoding and Cognitive Anchoring

EMI often integrates positive resource states during the eye-tracing process, allowing new neurological connections to be formed. The LBRP similarly encodes protective and stabilizing forces into the practitioner’s consciousness through repeated use of divine names and pentagram tracings (Cicero, 1998).

The act of drawing a pentagram in ritual space may serve as an ‘anchor’ to a specific neurological or psychological state, much like NLP anchoring techniques (Hine, 1995).

Emotional and Energetic Reset

EMI is used to defragment and neutralize distressing memories, reducing their disruptive impact. The LBRP, in an esoteric context, serves to “banish” intrusive or unwanted energies, clearing space for more intentional psychological and spiritual work (Cicero, 1998).

Practitioners of both techniques report a sense of clarity, release, and heightened awareness following their use (Hine, 1995).

Implications for Technomagick and NLP Applications

The intersection of NLP and ceremonial magick suggests that structured, repetitive movement combined with intentional focus has profound cognitive and psychological effects. In a Neo-Technomagickal framework, this insight could lead to further experimentation with custom sigils designed for EMI-style integration, or AI-assisted visualization tools for ritual practice.

Future research could examine:

Whether specific geometries (e.g., pentagrams, hexagrams) in ritual movement impact cognitive processing similarly to NLP techniques.

The effectiveness of LBRP-derived rituals in clinical or self-development contexts, particularly for trauma resolution.

The potential for EEG and neurofeedback studies comparing EMI and ritualized eye-tracing methods.

Conclusion

While originating from vastly different paradigms, NLP’s EMI technique and the LBRP share fundamental principles of hemispheric integration, cognitive anchoring, and structured movement through symbolic space. Whether consciously designed or stumbled upon through esoteric practice, these methodologies hint at deep underlying mechanisms of the human mind’s capacity for self-regulation and transformation. Understanding their similarities provides an opportunity to bridge the domains of magick, psychology, and neuroscience, opening new avenues for exploration in both mystical and therapeutic contexts.

G/E/M (2025)

References

Bandler, R., & Grinder, J. (1982). Reframing: Neuro-Linguistic Programming and the Transformation of Meaning. Real People Press.

Cicero, C. & Cicero, S. T. (1998). Self-Initiation into the Golden Dawn Tradition. Llewellyn Publications.

Hine, P. (1995). Condensed Chaos: An Introduction to Chaos Magic. New Falcon Publications.

Ward, K. (2002). Mind Change Techniques to Keep the Change. NLP Resources.

[gayguybln]

21 year old Marvin (left) is presenting his 19 year old disciple Damian (right) to other members of their fitness sect. Marvin is on his way to full membership. Members are fully brainwashed into building their entire life around gym and working out. The membership is organised in four stages: disciple stage, comitted mentors stage, full membership and presidency.

Disciples are new applicants. With their application they move into so-called congregation houses. A mentor is taking over to restructure the applicant's life. Marvin is Damian's mentor. From day one applicants are watching and listening to brainwashing hypnosis. Contacts to family and friends are under scrutiny and reduced if necessary. All sect members are wearing identical clothes. A mentor is monitoring a disciple's training routine, his nutrition and enforcing the hypnosis. Within the congregation houses the disciples are living in small cells. Applicants have to be without tattoos. Tattoos are forbidden within the first two stages of membership.

Comitted mentors are sect members who are passed the first stage. They're already brainwashed. For them the sect is the family. Marvin entered the sect a few days after his 18th birthday. On his 19th birthday he became a comitted mentor. The ceremony is consisting of giving up his old life formally, ceding all possessions to their church. After the signature a comitted mentor is branded with a stylized dumbbell on the back of the neck. At the end of the procedure they get a vasectomy as church members aren't allowed to start a family. From that point on sex is allowed with other sect members only. They have to lead at least five disciples from application to comittment before being eligible for full membership. They sleep in three men dorm rooms in the congregation houses.

Full members are getting some freedoms back. They can leave the congregation house as they want. Their life is fully developed. They made progressing within their training routine the center of their lives and are fully brainwashed. They have a job that allows them to focus on gym but to earn money for the church at the same time. The result is that their schedules are consisting of working and working out. Within that stage the members get their entire bodies covered in the same tattoos like the church's founder and prophet. They're allowed to build up 'own' companies (in truth the church is owning their companies). They're electing some members of the presidency.

Members of the Presidency are the officials of the church. Each congregation house has two leaders. An administrative leader is elected every second year at every congregation house. Spiritual leaders are full members selected by the prophet. While the administrative leader is taking care of all house related matters the spiritual leader is presiding over the hypnosis and brainwashing routines. Ten congregation houses are forming a ward. The ten administrative leaders are electing an administrative ward leader and the prophet is selecting one of the spirital house leaders as spiritual ward leaders. These ward leaders are delegating disciples and mentors from one house to another if necessary. They're calculating the budgets of the houses within their ward. All house leaders - administrative and spiritual - are forming the General Assembly that elects the President, the Vice-President and the General Secretary of the church on the same day as the US is electing their president. They will be sworn in by the prophet on Jan 20 after their election.

The Prophet is a 47 year old bodybuilder who says that Christ appeared to him and dictated him the 'true' testament of Christ. The prophet struggled in life as he was younger. He married at 20 but was forced into a cuck relationship by his wife and his twin brother. They forced a vasectomy on him and marked his body with tattoos. He fled into bodybuilding to cope with the situation. He was 28 as he cycled home after gym and got his first vision of Christ. In that exact moment Christ promised him to set him free the later prophet's wife and brother had an accident.

Discipline and obedience are the strong pillars of this church. Misbehaviour will be punished with shame punishments like walking naked with a chastity device only within the congregation house or wearing sweaty clothes of other church members. For some more problematic cases of misbehaviour or clear disobedience against members of the presidency corporal punishment is administred. In some very grave cases members can be sent into the hole. Each congregation house has two holes in the basement. These holes are technically on floor -2. They can be entered via the ceiling only and members sentenced to the hole are lowered down into the hole and then the ceiling is closed with a heavy metal cover. The hole is pitchblack. Food and water are provided via a shaft in the wall. Marvin was sentenced to the hole for one week after giving his spiritual house leader a headbutt as they discussed Marvin's potential within the church. Hole sentences are always signed by the prophet.

[basket-of-cats-and-witches]

Tidbit Tuesdays: And We're Back

*slides in with a coffee and sunglasses to hide the dark circles under my eyes*

It hasn't been two weeks since I posted, I don't know what you're talking about.

Anyway, an emergency root canal, a crown, and quite a lot of money later, I'm back on my LaDs grind. Truth be told on top of everything else, I'm going through writer's block, so WIPs is just about all I've got.

Can't commit to anything, like my teeth can't commit to my mouth.

If you've survived this rambling, bless. This week's WIPs are just a random assortment of things. And if you're new here, this is where I post things I'm proud of, just generally like, or am currently working on.

If you enjoy this (or just generally appreciate people) please leave a like or a reblog! It lets me know people like what I'm doing, and encourages me to keep writing!

---

Notes: first up is Zayne and Kiri, my MC. I recently finished catching up on the new (!!!) main storyline additions, so this is your spoiler warning before I continue.

I loved where the story went, and so decided to do a "what if" in which Kiri temporarily has her memory restructured by the Protofield and the Myst, dropped into a dreamscape that reflects Dreamwalker's world.

It's fun. It's SUPER fun. I should get back to it soon.

❄️❄️❄️

Kiri’s day ended like this:

Akso hospital had strict regimented shifts to combat the constant wave of abominations. At the end of hers, she got scanned, tested, and questioned before she was allowed to leave. A pair of military men in uniforms escorted her down out of the hospital campus, waiting with her until someone could come pick her up.

They never needed to wait long.

Zayne was almost always perfectly on time.

The black silhouette appeared silently through the thick mist, her escorts tensing before realizing who it was. She patted one on the shoulder, saying her goodbyes before stepping forward.

Her hand found Zayne's before she'd even said a word.

“How was work?” He murmured. In his other hand were groceries, the plastic sack sagging with the weight.

Kiri sighed, pulling her hair loose from its bun. “Long,” she replied. “Three more cases today. The ACU ward is overflowing already, and Chansia hospital can't take anymore. They're bursting at the seams.” She leaned into him, her pink scrubs brushing against the wool of his coat.

He frowned at her. “You took your jacket this morning. Where is it?”

“Hm?” Kiri blinked in surprise. “Oh. Someone needed it more than I did.” She smiled at his exasperated sigh, tugging on his sleeve. “Come on. I have you to keep me warm, don't I?”

Zayne shook his head, a slight smile forcing its way through his irritation. “Still. The nurse can't help people if she gets sick, can she? Your health has to come first.”

She hummed, neither agreeing nor denying it. He huffed in response. “Let's go home, my moon.”

Kiri had worked at Akso hospital as long as she could remember. She'd graduated top of her class, with perfect marks, and settled easily into her new life. Work in the Abominations Containment Unit was intense, and it seemed her coworkers were on a revolving door roster. Few people stayed as long as she did, with cases increasing every day.

It was at some point during that that she met Zayne.

A former patient of hers had cornered her in an alley, begging for help before turning into an awful, monstrous thing.

A sudden explosion of black ice had been her saving grace.

The man in black had vanished as quickly as he'd appeared, and, well…

As if following a thread of fate itself, she chased after him.

It was unconscionable for a nurse and someone like him to fall in together. Kiri was well aware she was breaking the code of ethics, not to mention the oaths she'd taken.

Yet here they were.

It felt like it had been forever since they'd gotten together.

It felt like it had been no time at all.

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Notes: This one's been in the mental WIP for a while. I usually let ideas ferment in my head for a while before I bake them into fics, like a good sourdough.

This one focuses on Kit and Sylus, Kit being his second in command and NOT the MC. If you've been here a while, you know her. Anyway, I wanted to do a "what if Kit got hurt" thing, and as usual, they can't help bantering even when she's been stabbed. Go figure.

Fair warning, this one does feature some gruesome imagery. Not a lot though.

🐦‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐈‍⬛

The remains of the building shuddered, dust and sheetrock crumbling down. Sylus ran his flashlight over the rubble, keeping an ear out for any voices.

“Keep a low profile,” he murmured to the twins. “It's not just Kit that might be down here.”

The twins nodded firmly.

The building was a winding, gray mess, shadowed corners scurrying away at each sweep of the flashlights. Every once in a while, they would have to make a wide berth around slowly seeping pools of red, checking the remains for identification.

So far, there were only strangers.

“Fan out,” Sylus murmured. “We'll get more coverage that way.”

The twins and the other men he brought along nodded, splitting up into groups of two. All of them had radios, but it was a shot in the dark whether they would keep working in the lingering metaflux.

It was eerily quiet down here.

The rubble blocked all outside noises, leaving nothing but the occasional whisper of dust or the clatter of stone.

At last, he came to a room that was nearly intact.

It appeared to be a lab, the viewing windows completely shattered. A single threadbare bulb struggled to stay lit, swinging to and fro as it flickered dangerously.

Sylus carefully stepped inside, his feet crunching softly on the broken glass.

A body lay inside, the head twisted unnaturally. A badge on the lab coat proclaimed this to be someone who worked in the building.

The position of their hand was odd, and he leaned closer to examine it. There were faint marks to indicate they'd tightly gripped something before they died.

A second later, his instincts screamed for him to move, and he rolled out of the way, just as someone dropped down from a ceiling panel.

He swiftly got to his feet, ducking left as a shot fired, cutting through his jacket. With a lunge forward, he slammed his hand down, disarming his opponent.

A blade kissed his throat from their other hand, and he looked down into the cold, wild eyes of Kit.

“It's me, sweetie,” he said breathlessly.

Kit blinked. Her hair was messy and dusty, falling out of its usual braid. She held herself strangely, almost curling forward as she gripped the blade.

“Prove it,” she snapped.

Red mist yanked the blade from her grasp, pulling her into his arms. Sylus let just enough power through to make his eye glow without invading her thoughts. “How's that?”

She hissed in pain, grabbing his jacket to steady herself. “That works,” she grit out. “Someone had a doppelganger evol here. They looked like Evan, our diagnostics head.”

Sylus swore, thinking of the nervous man he'd spoken to before. “He might have made it out. I just spoke to Evan before we entered. Are you alright?”

Kit shook her head. “Took a piece of rebar to the side. I didn't have the luxury of keeping it stuck in there, there were people trying to kill me. How did you of all people not notice Evan?”

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Occasionally things do escape me, kitten. It's harder to tell when the man in question is always sweating like he's in a sauna.” He glanced at her sidelong. “Speaking of, you bring up a good point. What's to say you aren't a doppelganger? A good one, but one nonetheless.”

She reared back, offended. “Excuse you! Are you implying my fighting is on the level of any average person?”

Sylus smirked. “Your ability with firearms does leave something to be desired.”

“You motherfu- eep!” Kit squeaked as Sylus picked her up, his arm settling neatly under her bottom. She clung to his shoulders as a scarlet flush swept across her skin.

He chuckled. “There's that beautiful full-body blush. No imposter after all.”

“If I survive this,” Kit snapped, “I'm going to do my best to choke you out.”

“I look forward to it.” He stepped out of the room, grabbing his radio. “Twins, can you read me?”

The radio crackled for a moment before a reply came through. “Loud and clear, boss. Has mama bird been located?”

“I take it back,” Kit muttered. “I'm killing them first, and then you.”

Sylus smiled at that. “Mama bird is with me, yes,” he replied, his eyes crinkling at the murderous glare she shot his direction. “We're exiting the building now. Withdraw and rendezvous at South Tower.”

🐦‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐈‍⬛

Note: Ahahaha. Our last one is Omegaverse. That's flustering and fun. This one's less suggestive, mostly due to the fact that I was jotting down headcanons for Omegaverse AU and it turned into mini fics. So this one is Zayne and Kiri.

❄️❄️❄️

For some reason, the universe decides to bless Kiri with the worst possible heat to go along with her myriad of health problems.

In the week leading up to it, she feels exhausted and sick, throwing up food easily and sleeping poorly.

Previous doctors have told her that it's because she has an extremely high hormone production rate, and it means she's extra fertile.

That she should be grateful.

She had to hold herself back from strangling them.

It also means she can't take suppressants.

Zayne, at least, is sympathetic. Even long before they begin a relationship, he reaches out through his connections to find her hormone specialists, people who can help her manage her symptoms.

And after they start dating, well.

He spoils her rotten.

Zayne can only really take the week of her heat off, with how vital he is to operations in Akso Hospital. However, the clean house, fresh linens, and hot food he gets for her goes a long way towards helping.

She always tries to protest his help after his shift is over, stating that he already works enough.

He just does it anyway. All her plushies get scented, her favorite pastries are bought, and her extra expensive jar of tea is left out by a new mug on the kitchen island.

She could just cry from how sweet he is.

When her heat strikes, it's similar.

Kiri becomes very particular about her nest, only choosing the most recent articles of clothing he's worn. She gets exhausted very quickly, and Zayne purchases scent blocking candles to light throughout the entire apartment.

(He's seriously considering how much it would be to get a house outside of the city. If he catches another Alpha lingering at his doorstep or below his balcony window, he's going to break his doctor's oaths on purpose)

❄️❄️❄️

Thanks for reading, and have a good Tuesday!

[exmo-dropout]

My parents went to a stake restructuring meeting today, and apparently, two wards have just been completely dissolved. Thank you, Satan! 🥰💗🫂

[shakertwelve]

What did Wretch Victor (The Nemean?) look like?

unfortunately we can't call it the nemean because wildbow used that for the evil victor's titan form in ward and it would get too confusing. on here i've mostly been calling it the beast to match with the wretch, but that's not something victor would be likely to come up with; he doesn't mentally label his identity as different aspects the way vicky does, so i doubt he thinks of himself in his altered state with a different name at all. but i digress.

unlike amy, amelia maintains stores of material to use with her power, so she didn't have to collect random animals and things, she just dunked him in the meat soup they already had around. that provided enough extra material that he ended up the size of like. a large bear probably. he was badly injured enough that they couldn't get him out of his armor before amelia started trying to heal him, so when it started to go wrong his bone armor melted into his body, giving him bone plates and spikes and horns and claws and so on.

the placement of all that stuff wasn't consciously designed any more than the wretch was, just exaggerating and repeating elements associated with strength-force-violence, so it's all uneven and makes him clumsy in some ways; like the way the armor plates came out on his back forces him to hunch over, and the claws are too big for him to use his hands, and so on. mostly compensates for that with all the additional muscle making him really strong and fast, anyway. it doesn't exactly look like a thing that would exist in nature; actual large carnivores don't have giant movie monster teeth that are too big for their mouths, because that's not evolutionarily practical, but he does, and the whole rest of the shape of his face and jaw got restructured to the point where he can't talk, can't close his mouth at all. a few places where extra teeth and claw-hands tried to form in the wrong spot.

the only really lion-like elements are that his hair ended up looking like a mane, and he did end up with a tail, but really you could compare it as much to a bear or a minotaur or various kinds of armored dinosaur. bit of a smiledog thing going on around the face. not actually furry all over, which could soften the effect a bit, just like, enough hair to give the impression of a really mangy dog.

tl;dr looked bad

[dartagnantt]

Tools of Dominion | No rings of unfathomable power were thrown into volcanoes in the production of this list

PDFs of this and more can be found over on at my Patreon here! I release everything for free, so your support makes this possible. I've also started making a new system based off of 5e, 6th Dawn! Become a patron and join the playtest.

Hopefully I don't need to explain how this fits into the theme of order. Now some of you may wonder "Why would you make such terribly evil magic items?" If you did, congratulations, you are a better person than I am. If you didn't you have the same problem I do.

Simply put though, these exist for world building purposes. Much like my magebane shackles, these items exist to give villains tools to do evil. This isn't really unprecidented either. There are obviously spells in the player's handbook that exist solely for an NPC to use such as Guards and Wards. (A spell I routinely forget exists).

Other items exist because I think they're neat, like the collar of the cunning beast, and the rod of dominion where I'm not even being subtle (no, the ring of Domination is not the one ring, I have no idea what you're talking about), or because I am a goober, like the friendship bracelet.

A very interesting experiment in forcing attunements and enchantments on people with this one.

And now to plug my stuff. I release homebrews weekly over on my Patreon. Anyone who pledges $1 or more per post don't have to wait a month to see them, and also help fund my being alive habit.

At the moment, they have exclusive access to the following:

Bastions: Restructured

Half-Dwarves

Frickin' Lasers

The Art of Creation

I also have four classes, and a splatbook over on DriveThrueRPG to check out:

The Rift Binder. A class specialising in summoning monsters and controlling the battlefield.

The Witch Knight. A class that combines swords and sorcery in the most literal way.

The Werebeast. A class that turns you into a half beast to destroy your foes.

The Beguiler. A spellcaster dedicated to illusions, enchantments, and general fuckery.

d'Artagnan's Adventurer Almanac. A compendium of races, subclasses, feats, spells, monsters and more!

[viceroywrites]

reunions and opportunities - chapter eight

gary x fem!reader

both of you didn't get the ideal high school experience it would make sense that you both would be dreading the reunion.

little did you know how many doors would open after that.

ao3 version here - chapters on tumblr are slightly rewritten and restructured.

content warning: fic contains smut in later chapters. discussions of mental health including trauma and potential ptsd (aka gary is traumatized).

chapter eight

“So you can’t make it to dinner tonight? I thought you were going to be free all day,” You asked as you struggled to balance your cell phone between your raised shoulder and cheek, your hands full of paperwork for Watch and Ward that Dr. Mrs. had asked you to drop off at the Guild Strategic Operations.

The faint sounds of the bustling New York city echoed in the background as Gary navigated through the sea of people towards the subway station. “No, I can still make it but could we move our plans back an hour? The Monarch asked me to run some stupid errands last minute,” He huffed on the other end, slinging the duffel bag that was slowly sliding off his broad shoulder back up.

You chuckled at Gary’s exasperation, blissfully unaware of the real reason why he was frustrated, “Hey, at least he has you doing something. I know things have been pretty slow for you as a henchman.” You say sympathetically.

‘Oh, they definitely have not been slow.’ Gary muses to himself, swiping his Metrocard to pass through the subway stalls. “I’m about to get on the subway, I’ll see you at the Italian place tonight, m’lady.”

“Okay, I’ll see you then, m’lord. Stay safe, okay? The Blue Morpho situation is getting kind of crazy and I know you aren’t running around in uniform or doing any arches with the Monarch but just keep an eye out.” You say softly, just having heard from Sheila that the Council of 13 will be suspending all arching until the situation dies down.

Gary’s body tensed at your statement and he winced as he replied, “Of course I will. Can’t wait for date night.” He waited for you to hang up to let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his face.

Gary knew in the back of his mind he couldn’t keep killing off all these villains after you told him last night about how you heard the voicemail he forced Wandering Spider to leave. Guilt overcame him so he decided that night after you left the Monarch household to stay up all night, wrangling up the remaining villains set to arch Venture under Wide Wale’s Fiends and Family Plan and locking them in the bathroom of the Blue Morpho cave.

Leading to where he is today, running late on his reconnaissance mission in his Kano costume with his outfit for date night stuffed in a duffel bag. 

“Alright, you can do this. Get in there, get out and get to date night.”

–

“Isn’t a Rusty Venture when a guy jerks off and cums on his hand and then flicks it on the girl’s forehead?” You answer Watch and Ward’s unexpected query, dropping the stack of paperwork on the file cabinet between the two.

“No, that sex move’s called the Holy Water!” Ward said dismissively.

You rolled your eyes as the two began to debate the matter that apparently has been going on for the last few months. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, picking it up to see a text from Dr. Mrs. asking if you wanted to go to the mall with her. 

You quickly responded yes, wanting to get out of the sausage fest that has been Guild meetings, and Sheila replied that a car would be sent for you shortly.

“By the way, [Your Name], did you think about applying for the BTC? We need more female operatives.” Ward said with a grin.

“I’ll have to pass given that I’m in a relationship now,” You held a finger up before Ward could interject, “And no, 21 and I don’t swing unlike other villains.”

Watch snickered, “I can’t believe you two actually got together without even knowing each other were in the Guild. Ward and I were placing bets if you would end up dating him on your own or if Dr. Mrs. the Monarch would try to set you two up.”

“Yeah, Watch owes me $50 bucks and sits in on the next Council of 13 meeting instead of me now.” Ward grinned, extending his hand out with Watch sighing and fishing a crisp bill out of his wallet, “So, you’re going to join the Monarch crew? Having one more henchman might help their EMA.”

You shrugged as you leaned against the file cabinet, “I mean that’s what makes the most sense but am I really going to just do the same thing I did with Wide Wale? Join my boyfriend’s boss’ crew? Maybe I should go solo like Dr. Mrs. did for a bit or apply for that Henchman HR position.” 

Watch and Ward exchanged knowing glances before Watch spoke up, “Do you hate someone enough to arch them?”

“No.”

“Do you want to do endless amounts of paperwork and listen to henchmen complain all day?”  Ward chimed in.

“... No.” 

“So there’s your answer.” They answered in unison and right on cue, your phone buzzed to signal Sheila’s arrival.

“Fine, we’ll talk about this more after the next meeting.” You sigh. 

“No, we won’t!”  “The decision is so obvious!”

– 

“God, I’ll take dealing with a horde of henchmen over some of these villains. It’s like they just bought a costume off Amazon and said, I want to be bad!” Sheila ranted, having changed out of her Guild uniform into a stylish black trench coat, as you both walked through the mall.

You chuckled next to her, a few bags swinging in your hand as Sheila insisted on some much needed girl time and retail therapy for the both of you.

“Speaking of villains, what made you stay with the Guild? Like how did you know this is what you wanted to do?” You asked as the two of you wandered into a makeup store.

“Well, I sort of just stumbled into the Guild without fully understanding it.” Sheila hummed, swatching various lipsticks on her hand, “I got a lot of experience number two-ing for people, tried going solo but realized I didn’t have the passion to arch like the Monarch does. After I met the Monarch, the rest is history.”

The dark haired villainess glanced at you out of the corner of her eyes, reading your uncertain expression and placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “It’s okay if you don’t know, sweetheart. The answers will come along the way.” 

You let out a sigh, thumbing through the various lipsticks and gave Sheila an appreciative smile, “Alright, enough talk about the Guild. Did you find the lipstick shade you wanted?”

“No. Mac discontinued my favorite shade, Pink Poodle and I swear no other brand makes the same shade.” Sheila rasped in exasperation, “Don’t you have a date with 21 tonight? Did you pick out an outfit?”

You nod, pulling out your phone to show Sheila the simple jeans and blouse combo you were planning to wear tonight. Sheila glanced between the photo and you, “Sweetheart, you’re a doll but this outfit does not do you justice. Let’s go.” She declared, grabbing your wrist and whisking you away from the make-up counter.

“B-But it’s not like a fancy dinner or anything like that!” You stammered out and Sheila chuckled, “[Your Name], you don’t have to have a reason to dress up. Besides, I’m sure 21 won’t mind seeing you in a hot little number, would he?”

You bite your tongue and Sheila grins in satisfaction, “That’s what I thought.”

After Sheila finishes dragging you from store to store, swiping her card despite your protests, you collapse at a food court table, bags surrounding you. 

Sheila sets down two lemonades and a pretzel to split as she slides into the chair next to you, “I cannot wait for Gary to see you later. The look on his face is going to be priceless.”

Like a person dying of thirst, you grabbed the lemonade, slurping it down as Sheila watched in amusement. After being fully quenched, you finally speak, “Thank you, Sheila, for everything. I honestly would have still been a glorified babysitter without working with you.”

Sheila flushed at the sudden praise and waved her hand in dismissal, “No need to thank me, dear. I’m glad to have some female companionship and I’m so happy you and Gary found each other. Honestly, if you hadn’t met before, I was planning on setting you two up.” She admitted, “Though this wouldn’t have all happened if Wide Wale hadn’t introduced us.” 

You grimaced at the mention, remembering the last interaction of you lashing out at him. Sheila placed her hand on top of yours, giving you an understanding nod. “Since we’re nearby, maybe you should go over and talk to him, [Your Name]. You have some time before your date so why not?”

You sigh, “You’re right. It’s probably the best time to do it, right?”

—

You take a deep breath as you step into Tophet Towers, holding a single shopping bag in your hand that contains your outfit for tonight. Sheila had dropped you off in front of the high rise with an encouraging pat on the shoulders and a cheeky remark about hoping you won’t be too sore tomorrow.

Taking the elevator up to the penthouse suite where the Ongs resided, your nerves settled after seeing Sirena upon the doors opening. 

“Oh my god, [Your Name]! What are you doing here?” Sirena questioned, embracing you into a tight hug which you quickly returned. 

“I was in the neighborhood, figured I’d swing by. I kinda lashed out at your dad last time I saw him so I came over to apologize.” 

Sirena scoffed, crossing her arms at the news, “You probably have no reason to apologize, [Your Name]! Pop’s been a real pain in the ass lately and he did something stupid and impulsive, didn’t he?”

The look on your face tells Sirena all she has to know and she sighs, “Well, you always were the bigger person. Follow me, he just got out of a meeting.” 

You follow behind the brunette, catching up on how college has been and how she’s been sneaking around with her boyfriend without Rocco knowing. As you round the corner to her dad’s office, Sirena begins grilling you about the date she interrupted.

“So how did it go? Did he end up being a creep or did you get your world rocked that night?” Sirena teases with a smirk which you respond with a playful elbow to her side. “Shut up, Sirena, you know I don’t do hookups. Well, we’re dating and it turns out, he actually is a henchman for my new boss.”

Sirena’s eyes widened at the news and she stopped dead in her tracks before embracing you in a tight hug and squealing so loud, bodyguards quickly ran to where you both stood.

One of those bodyguards being your ex-boyfriend.

“Ms. Ong, what’s the matter? Who’s bothering you?” His voice booms, suddenly ripping you off her and grabbing you by the shoulders before blinking at the realization. “[Your Name], what’re you doing here?”

Before Sirena can protest, you respond swiftly, pinching the top of Rocco’s hand and twisting it suddenly, causing the muscular brute to wince and release his grip. “Nice to see you too, Rocco.” You sigh, releasing his hand, “Didn’t realize I needed a formal invitation to visit.”

“What’s with all the ruckus out here?” A voice called out, causing you to turn your head to see Wide Wale, stepping out of his office with a look of annoyance.

His gaze shifted from his bumbling right hand man to you and it softened as Wide Wale walked towards you.

“Glad to see you, kid. I’m guessing you want to talk?” The villain questions, gesturing to his office. You nod and follow him, squeezing Sirena’s hand on your way out with a promise of catching up over brunch soon.

As you took a seat in front of you, your eyes scanned the office, noting the latest edition of Modern Enemy Monthly on your former boss’ desk, the Blue Morpho plastered on the front of it. You take a seat on the cozy, purple arm chair across from Wide Wale’s desk as he slides in front of you, lighting up a cigar and taking a slow drag from it.

“Listen, I know I fucked up a few days ago.” The villain’s thick Jersey accent echoes through the quiet room, placing his cigar down on the ashtray, “The Blue Morpho running rampant got the better of me. You know I get passionate about these things especially seeing villains I’ve worked closely with over the years being taken out one by one. I know I’m at the top of the food chain but it got to me.”

You shake your head, “I think it’s getting to all of us, including Shel- I mean Dr. Mrs the Monarch.” You catch yourself, only referring to Sheila by her name when it’s just the two of you. “I shouldn’t have lashed out on you like that. I know your intentions were in the right place but things can’t always be an eye for an eye.”

Wide Wale chuckled, “You’ve grown up, kid. Looks like it was a good decision to have you work under the councilwoman.” His gaze notably turned more serious, “I heard she introduced you to the Monarch. They treating you alright? Because if they’re not-”

“I can handle it myself. Besides, they’re great people. The Monarch’s quite the character like everyone says but he’s got a lot of passion which I admire,” You hum, not noticing how Wide Wale’s fists clench underneath the hardwood of his desk as he exhales a large smoke cloud.

“Well, as long as you’re happy, that’s all I care about. But you know, you’ll always have a home here so don’t be a stranger. You don’t have to have a reason to just stop by.” Wide Wale sighs, putting out his cigar as it reaches the end of its life.

–

Unbeknownst to you, your presence created enough of a distraction to allow Gary to sneak around the lobby of Tophet Towers undetected, planting a few cameras at the entrance as well as by the elevators.

‘I can’t believe I haven’t gotten caught yet, dude. This is so risky.’ Gary thinks to himself as he pressed the button to ascend up to the penthouse floor, hoping that there aren’t any bodyguards stationed right at the entrance. He thankfully only had one more camera left to plant before simply scoping out the top floor to get a layout of the rooms.

He held his breath as the golden doors opened, relaxing his defensive stance when there were no henchmen waiting at the other end. Peeking his head carefully around the corners, Gary ran out of the elevator, fumbling through his blue coat to grab the last surveillance device. His fingers carefully placed it atop the elevator door, aiming it so it pointed down the long hallway.

Glancing over his shoulder, his eyes quickly scanned down the long hallway, not hearing any approaching footsteps or movement. ‘This feels way too easy, where the hell is everybody?’ Gary questions, sneaking around the long hallway, hugging the sides of the wall, just in case anyone came from around the corner. 

He heard some chatter behind the ornate set of doors, sneaking past it as he made his way down the hallway. The burly henchman took mental notes of each door so he could map it out for the Monarch and create a game plan for how to take out Wide Wale at a later time.

‘Alright, that’s everything… now it's time to get the hell out of here!’ Gary begins heading towards the elevator in a hurry. As he jogs down the hallway, he hears the sound of a door opening at the other end of the hallway and hears a familiar voice. 

“See you at brunch next week, Sirena! My treat!” Your voice causes him to almost freeze in his tracks, his blood running cold as he questions what you’re doing here.

Unlucky for him, you round the corner at the same time, just in time to see him standing there like a deer in headlights.

Time slows down as you all process the sight of Kano in front of you.

Gary feels his life flash before his eyes at the sight of you sprinting towards him, your boots clicking against the floor. Quick on his feet, Gary starts gunning it towards the elevator. You quickly begin gaining on him, as you both run down what feels like a never-ending hallway, your speed almost out matching his.

Luck is in his favor as the elevator doors are still wide open. Gary hurriedly barrels into the elevator, slamming his fist against the ‘Close Door’ button. 

Right before you can jam the door, Rocco opens the ornate doors with two other henchmen in tow right in front of you, halting you in your tracks as you run into the burly men.

Rocco glances from you to the elevator door that begins to close and blinks, “Hey, ain’t that the Blue Morpho’s sidekick?” Rocco announces.

In a last ditch effort, you grab a knife tucked away in your boot and throw it towards the door, narrowly missing Gary in the head, before the doors shut before you can jam the door. 

“Fuck!” You hiss, halting in your tracks, slapping away the extended hands to help you up and grabbing the large electric harpoon out of Rocco’s hand, “Give me that, I’ll take care of this myself!” 

“Hey, you gotta return that, [Your Name]! I’m borrowing Dante’s harpoon since mine is getting repaired!” Rocco calls out, deflating as his call falls on deaf ears.

You rush down the nearest flight of stairs, your gaze fiery as you’re determined to catch Kano and maybe get some answers out of him.

Gary’s heart races through his chest as adrenaline runs through his system. His trembling hand holds the knife that you hurled at his head, shocked at how close you were to catching him. “Oh my god, I’ve never been terrified but also turned on at the same time!” He says to himself, impressed at your speed and accuracy to throw the knife from that distance.

Just as Gary thinks he’s escaped your wrath as the elevator door opens, he hears a sudden boom behind him. His eyes widen, seeing you panting from sprinting down the staircase, holding the massive harpoon gun in your hands with a heated look in your eyes.

“You thought you could get away, Kano?” You taunt, rushing towards him with sparks flying off the harpoon. Gary panics, making a break for the backdoor rather than the front door lobby in his haste. He fumbles, trying desperately to grab the stun gun in his jacket pocket.

After he finally gets a hold of it, he winces, his finger trembling as it loops around the trigger. Glancing behind him, he sees you quickly losing stamina after your descent down several flights of stairs, slowly losing him. As he pauses and points the stun gun at you, he hesitates for a second, unable to pull the trigger as he begins having flashbacks of taking out other villains.

You pant heavily, cursing yourself for wearing your heeled boots today, freezing as you see Gary pointing the stun gun at you. You wince, bracing for the dart to hit you but blink as it never comes. Your eyes flutter open, seeing him standing there like he had seen a ghost before promptly dropping the stun gun.

The shock and confusion of Kano not pulling the trigger gives Gary enough time to rush out the back door, the heavy door shutting with a loud slam. 

“Damn it…” You hiss, collapsing on the floor as you catch your breath, dropping the harpoon. Running a hand through your hair, you eye the stun gun that was dropped and pick it up, looking at it with curiosity, “Why didn’t he shoot…?”

–

The next hour was spent catching the Council of 13 up on your new development, Sheila fretting over you and rushing to help you get ready for the date that you were now late for after all this chaos.

Somehow during that time, Gary had made it safely back to the Monarch residence, hastily changing out of his Kano uniform and carelessly tossing the knife you threw at him on the ground. His heart is jumping into his throat, jumping at the sudden vibration he feels in his pants. Pulling out his phone, he sighs, seeing an apologetic text from you: 

‘Hey babe, I got caught up in a Blue Morpho situation. I might be at the restaurant a little late! Order a bottle of red wine for tonight because I’m gonna need it.’

He slapped his forehead, groaning, “Oh my god, I almost forgot about date night!”

Gary gets to Vincienzo’s at the planned time, deciding to spruce up a bit after the Monarch commented on how he wears the same blue plaid button up. Wearing a black sweater that accentuates his broad shoulder and a pair of light wash jeans, he drums his fingers on the table, already sipping on a glass of wine, to calm his jitters. 

He’s still scared shitless to see you - he obviously knew that you had henchman training but you downplayed it so much he wasn’t expecting the speed and ruthlessness you displayed today. Gary was embarrassed to admit this but it made him more attracted to you seeing you in action - if only he wasn’t on the receiving end of the hostility. He jumped again as his phone buzzed, sighing as he placed a hand on his chest to calm down his heart beat, texting you back that he was in the back of the restaurant.

Walking through the front door of the restaurant, your heels click against the hardwood. You adjust the form-fitting dress that Sheila had insisted on buying for you, despite the price tag, feeling a bit self conscious as you worried that you would be overdressed compared to Gary. Checking the lipstick that Sheila had carefully put on for you one last time, you make your way to the back of the restaurant, calling out to Gary, “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long, m’lord.” 

Before Gary can reply, he finds himself stunned yet again. He thought nothing could beat the sight of you when he first saw you at the high school reunion. The Guild uniform was a close second but this outfit knocked them both out of the park. 

You blush as Gary gawks at you, sliding into the seat across from him, “Is it too much?”

“Oh my god, no!” Gary quickly interjects, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. “You’re stunning, like even more than Daenerys and Padme combined!”

“Someone’s laying it on thick tonight. Did you do something you don’t want me to know about?” You question with a grin, causing Gary to freeze and almost choke on his spit.

“N-No, I just wanted to compliment you!” Gary stammers almost defensively and your eyebrow raises, squeezing Gary’s hand in return.

“Babe, I’m just teasing you…” You say reassuringly before pouring yourself a glass of red wine as you await your server, “Sorry, I’m late again. I wanted to wait to tell you in person but I ended up running into Kano at Tophet Towers.”

Gary tensed underneath your touch, taking a long swig of his red wine, as he began to feel warm in his sweater, “Oh my god, are you okay?” He asks, trying to feign concern like he wasn’t there with you.

You nodded, pausing as the waiter arrived to take your orders before continuing on with the story, “I’m fine… a bit shaken up but I noticed something different about Kano.”

Gary paused, gripping his wine glass tightly as he waited on baited breath to hear what you were going to say. He was anticipating the worst - that you knew it was him behind the mask, or that Kano’s build looked similar to his. He asked hesitantly, “What was it?”

“I was chasing him down and he pulled out his dart gun to stun me.” You share, looking Gary in the eyes with your head tilted in confusion, “But he didn’t shoot. I mean this is the guy who took out Haranguetan, Wandering Spider… so why didn’t he take me out?”

Gary’s breath hitched, grateful that you hadn’t connected the dots but also stunned that you realized his hesitation. He swallowed the huge lump in his throat before squeezing your hand tightly and bringing it to his lips, pressing a kiss on the back of your hand. The best words he can muster are “All that matters is that you’re here now. I’m glad you’re safe.”

You sigh, the tense firm line your lips had settled into melting into a smile. “You’re right… enough about the Blue Morpho, let’s just enjoy our time together.”

Gary smiled and felt his tense shoulders relax as you started sharing about your bonding time with Sheila.

Just for this moment, he would put Kano aside and focus on you.

Just for this moment, he could just be Gary. 

[grits-galraisedinthesouth]

Taylor Swift ‘snubbed invite’ to appear on Duchess of Sussex’s Archetypes podcast

Reports claim Meghan wrote a personal letter asking her to appear on the Archetypes show but the singer declined through a representative

Victoria Ward 24 June 2023

Taylor Swift snubbed an invitation to appear on the Duchess of Sussex’s Archetypes podcast and the couple left Netflix and Spotify executives “underwhelmed” by their lack of productivity and ideas, it has been claimed.

The production of Meghan’s Archetypes podcast was fraught with difficulties over securing the right guests and the Duchess often asking for late changes, according to the Wall Street Journal.

In a wide-ranging analysis of the couple’s careers since settling in California, the newspaper suggested that their big dream of wowing Hollywood with their star power and royal connections had been undermined by a lack of substance.

It revealed that Archewell employees and associates had admitted the company often lacked direction, and that the royal couple “at times seem surprised by the work required to finish entertainment projects.”

It added: “Most potential initiatives, they said, follow a similar route: Big idea, subpar execution.”

It is alleged that Meghan wrote a personal letter to Taylor Swift, asking her to appear on Archetypes, but that the singer declined, through a representative.

The production of Meghan’s Archetypes podcast, which has now been dropped by Spotify was fraught with difficulties

“Harry, in particular, struggled to land on an idea,” the newspaper added of their Spotify deal.

The couple have had multiple ideas rejected by Netflix, which is said to be unlikely to renew its deal when it expires in 2025.

They were also hampered by a recent, post-pandemic downturn in the industry that has led to widespread cost-cutting and restructuring.

Spotify recently laid off 200 people, including many audio engineers, and is said to be revamping its approach to podcasting.

Other proposed projects by the Duke and Duchess are said to have included a sitcom likened to the hit show Emily in Paris, “but about a man”, and a family-friendly show about gay characters that felt similar to the popular coming-of-age drama Heartstopper. Netflix is said to have turned down both.

The couple are reportedly developing a show for Netflix called Bad Manners, based on the Miss Havisham character in Great Expectations.

The Duke and Duchess also had multiple ideas rejected by Netflix CREDIT: ANGELA WEISS/AFP via Getty Images

It is described as a prequel to the Charles Dickens novel that recasts the lonely spinster as a strong woman living in a patriarchal society. It is not known whether it has been commissioned by Netflix.

Despite following a path forged by Barack and Michelle Obama, who have been hugely productive and successful, the Sussexes appear to have failed to live up to the mark.

Netflix executives are said to have grumbled about Archewell’s output, fearing that their six-part Harry & Meghan documentary released in December was all they had to offer.

The couple announced earlier this month that their $20 million Spotify deal had come to a premature end, having produced just one series of Meghan’s 12-part Archetypes podcast and a short “holiday special.”

A joint statement said: “Spotify and Archewell Audio have mutually agreed to part ways and are proud of the series we made together.”

A source close to the couple told the Telegraph that it was proving “tough” for the couple to move forwards with Netflix projects in development due to a Hollywood writers’ strike, which has brought much of US film and TV production to a crashing halt.

Their multi-year Netflix deal, rumoured to be worth $100 million, was announced with much fanfare in September 2020, with the streaming service predicting that the couple’s programmes would provide its “most exciting and most viewed” content the following year.

But the only show the couple have so far produced was their six-part eponymous docuseries.

Heart of Invictus, a behind-the-scenes documentary following competitors as they prepared for the 2022 Invictus Games, was announced in April 2021 and slated for release the following spring.

But that too has not yet seen the light of day, although Netflix insists it will be launched this summer.

An Archewell spokeswoman told the Wall Street Journal: “New companies often make changes in their start-up phase, both with people and strategy, and we are no exception. We’re more equipped, focused and energised than ever before.”

She said the company recently hired a new head of scripted content, actress and producer Tracy Ryerson.

A Netflix spokeswoman said Harry & Meghan was its biggest documentary debut. “We’ll continue to work together on a number of projects,” she added.

[upthewitchypunx]

Well, We got the cement board up and FINALLY got the faucet handle situation sorted with our shower. We would get more done today except I made a call last week to fulfill a huge button order by Friday and getting the parts has been more hassle than normal. So, I guess our bathroom update will be delayed more. ugh.

We keep getting requests to come and browse the shop, but we don’t have that set up. We show up in the top 5 of searches for “witch shop Portland” so we are trying to figure out a way to do that. We eventually want to make a shed out front but after the kitchen and bathroom updates we need to replace our porch. (the joys of owning an old house).

When we had to move the shelves of a giant wall of zines to get to the plumbing we realized we could turn part of the shop into a shop. We have been working with the same layout from when we had to get out of the warehouse before the pandemic shut down. I’m sure we can figure something out. It will also require some magical restructuring of wards for folks to come into this space. The house is zoned residential/commercial but I have my own wards to deal with and people might get weirded out by coming into a someone’s home.

But I’ll work on that later. Right now I am waiting for a UPS truck to show up with 20,000 button parts so I can live in the button mines for the next two days.

[antimony-ore]

In early February, Musk’s team laid off 130 staffers at the Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency, or CISA, including 10 regional security specialists who worked with local and state election officials. The Trump administration is also advancing plans to strip civil service protections from 80% of the remaining CISA workforce, potentially allowing them to be fired for political reasons. Attorney General Pam Bondi that month disbanded a key FBI task force charged with investigating foreign efforts to influence elections. She also left in the wind the fate of another FBI task force that investigated threats against election workers and polling places.

More layoffs, we knew this was happening. He does not trust the current system, I'm not sure I do, so he is dismantling what's in place so it can be restructured and not federally funded/contributing to the federal deficit in the meantime.

Homeland Security chief Kristi Noem, meanwhile, on March 6 canceled the funding for national information sharing efforts that helped state and local election officials detect and ward off coordinated hacking attacks and other threats.

This does not mean another system will not be implemented, we are just jumping the gun and assuming the worst, specifically a cyber attack when there is not even an upcoming election or primary to raise concerns at the moment.

Those moves come as Trump has appointed to key positions officials who embrace his false claims of widespread voting fraud, including Bondi, Noem and FBI Director Kash Patel, among others – and as Trump has cashiered the head of the National Security Agency and the US Cyber Command, Gen. Timothy Haugh, who was involved in countering Russian interference in past elections.

Allegedly there was still foreign interference this past election, so Haugh was obviously incompetent. How confident are we that Trump's claims are false if so many people seem to see reason in what he alleges?

Trump officials argue that some of the election security agencies targeted for cuts were improperly hurting the president’s allies. During her confirmation hearing in January, Noem said that CISA has “gotten far off mission” in trying to combat foreign disinformation. She pledged to help “rein in” the agency, which critics say pushed social media companies to target conservative commentators. Bondi said disbanding the Foreign Influence Task Force was necessary to end the “risk of further weaponization … of prosecutorial discretion.”

Are we sure they haven't perhaps gone off mission? These systems have been in place and there is still alleged Russian interference EVERY single election.

I didn't vote for Trump, but I also happen to think it was BS how the Democrats tried to rush and prosecute him to disqualify him from running this election rather than just let him run.

It was absolutely politically motivated and there should be protections put in place to prevent that from being weaponized against all future candidates, democrats included.

It's part of the reason I didn't vote for a democrat either this election, it's suspicious behavior.

But the administration’s actions have deeply alarmed state officials, who warn the next round of national elections will be seriously imperiled by the cuts. A bipartisan association representing 46 secretaries of state, and several individual top state election officials, have pressed the White House about how critical functions protecting election security will perform going forward. They have not received clear answers, according to documents shared with CNN.

TL:DR People on both sides are panicked because they didn't get an immediate answer to calm their concerns, which for some reason has made them assume the worst and that there is no plan going forward.

Trump has justified his efforts to exert more control over America’s state and local election systems as a way of stopping illegal voting by noncitizens and other voter fraud, both of which experts say are rare.

Ok? Let him address this concern of his now and then it shouldn't keep coming up. If you found it annoying, let him take care of it and he'll have nothing left to annoy you about.

Officials involved in administering elections say the moves already are making it harder, and less safe and secure, to vote in America.

If you're that afraid don't vote, I don't see that happening though.

“It’s absolutely hypocritical,” said Sen. Alex Padilla, a Democrat and former secretary of state of California, “for a president who has lied ad nauseam about rampant voter fraud to be undoing the very tools we rely on to protect the integrity and security of our elections.”

It's not, one would have to dismantle the current systems if there's any hope of getting congress or supreme court to put anything new in place. They would likely not otherwise.

Article because that link directs to nothing relevant: