I did not realize that I published this on Oklahoma's launch day. I suppose this is a intresting coinincidence.
As per usual, you can find this work Here and Here. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Enterprise made her way to the medical wing of the base. She walked up to Vestal’s desk.
“Excuse me, where can I find an Irving Reese”
Vestal looked at a spreadsheet that was on her computer.
“He is in intensive care, room 204. Follow me.”
Enterprise followed Vestal.
What Enterprise saw shook her to her core.
It was her boyfriend, Irving Reese, covered in dried blood, with so many tubes coming in and out of him.
Vestal took Enterprise aside to comfort her and give her some news.
“He sustained grave injuries. He is in a coma. It might take him some time to wake up.”
“Can I hold his hand, or at least look at him through the glass?”
Vestal nodded and got Enterprise a chair to sit in.
Irving was in a void.
Was this it? Was this death?
Irving felt like he was floating, like a cork in the sea.
He was outside of an apartment window, trying to look into it.
He saw Shinano beside him.
“What are you doing here?”
“I am showing you a potential future that could happen to you.”
Irving squinted and looked through the windows. Snow had covered it slightly.
He saw a man with a woman and a young child. The boy appeared to be older, around five or six years old, and had his father’s brown hair but his mother’s purple eyes. There was also a young girl who looked like a copy of Enterprise. They were all dressed in Christmas sweaters and having a good time.
The man was sitting on a recliner, while the woman was on his lap.
“Who are they?”.
“They are you, Enterprise, and your children, Mr. Reese.”
Irving’s eyes went wide. He wanted to marry Enterprise and start a family with her.
“What are their names?”
Shinano shook her head.
“Irving, this is only a potential future. It is up to you to make those choices. You will know once you do.”
Irving shook his head.
“What does any of that mean?”
Shinano disappeared. Soon, the apartment window also disappeared and Irving was alone.
Enterprise was at Irving’s bedside. It had been two weeks, and Irving had still not woken up.
The medical team had healed his lungs, and he was breathing on his own, but he was still not out of his coma.
The Commander walked into the room where Irving and Enterprise were. He saw that Enterprise was holding Irving’s hand. She was weeping quietly.
“Enterprise. Irving will awaken when he feels like it.”
Irving had to wake up.
He had to live his life, not only for himself but for Enterprise and the others.
Irving felt everything turn white.
Was this it?
Enterprise had her eyes closed. The Commander was getting ready to leave when Enterprise noticed that one of Irving’s green eyes had opened.
Enterprise’s eyes lit up.
“Commander! Irving’s waking up! Get Vestal in here!”
Irving was silent, but he gave Enterprise a look that everything was going to be okay.
Vestal and Robert made their way to Irving. They smiled and talked to him.
“Looks like you live to fight another day. Eh, Irving?”
“His fighting days are over. I don’t know if you know that, Mr. Harper.”
Enterprise did not care.
Irving was awake and able to be with her.
Two days passed.
The Commander looked at Irving. Irving was shirtless, and they covered his chest with bandages. This was nothing like the injuries that he had suffered when the girls found him.
Vestal was also there, along with Enterprise. Irving was in a wheelchair, and they were about to discharge him from the hospital.
The Commander spoke to Irving.
“Sergeant Reese. Following your heroic actions in defending Musashi and Azur Lane. I am honored to not only allow you back to the Eagle Union side of the base, but to award you the Bronze Star for your actions. We have awarded you the Purple Heart for your injuries sustained during the engagement. We have also discharged you from combat duties due to combat injuries.”
Irving gave the Commander a look of relief.
Irving smiled. He could soon start his life with Enterprise. He wanted to fulfill the wishes he wrote in the photo of them on the beach.
Enterprise put a white undershirt and a blue cardigan on Irving.
“You ready to go?”
Irving nodded, and she pushed the wheelchair to her car. She picked up Irving to put him in the car and returned the wheelchair to the hospital..
Enterprise drove to the Eagle Union dorms. Irving would need help, as his arm was still in a sling.
“Don’t worry honey, I’ll help take care of you.”
Irving nodded. He was in no shape to take care of himself fully. His broken arm would make that difficult.
“You can now focus on being with me, okay?”
Irving smiled. He could start his life with Enterprise, free from all the fighting.
He was no longer Irving Reese, Sergeant, 29th Infantry Division, bodyguard to Enterprise.
He was now just Irving Reese. Enterprise’s boyfriend.
“Maybe even Irving Reese, Enterprise’s husband.” Irving thought to himself.
Enterprise parked the car and got out. She picked up Irving and carried him. Enterprise knew that Irving would walk again soon, but until then she would carry him to the dorms.
Irving saw Malcolm and Oklahoma were waiting for them. Malcolm and Oklahoma’s blue eyes went wide at the sight of Irving being awake.
“You’re awake!”
The thought of his friend being out of a coma and awake brought a smile to Malcolm’s face.
Enterprise placed Irving on his feet. She held him up while Malcolm embraced him.
“I thought you were a goner!”
Irving smiled. He was relieved that Malcolm was alright.
Irving adjusted to no longer being on combat duty. He had been on combat duty for such a long time that it almost integrated some parts into him like instinct.
The hardest part was not getting up early to put on his uniform. He was so used to doing that as soon as he got up.
However, for Irving, there was one person who was worth getting up in the morning for.
Enterprise would often be next to him, sleeping. Irving would often make breakfast for Enterprise and himself.
Irving was walking again. He had to help Enterprise out as she was helping him out.
“I should try to cook something for the two of us.” Irving thought to himself.
Irving’s cooking skills had improved since he had returned to base. He cooked scrambled eggs and bacon without burning them. This was an improvement from being barely able to cook pasta without burning it.
However, thanks to the injured arm. He needed the help of Enterprise, as he only had one arm to work with.
Irving often had to go to Vestal for treatment to help heal his injured lungs.
“Thanks for the patches, Vestal.” The nicotine patches were a lifesaver, as he could no longer smoke.
“I’ll give any Lucky Strikes I get to Malcolm. I’m sure he’ll love them.”
A couple of months had gone by since Irving had returned to the Eagle Union side of the base.
Irving’s arm and shoulder blade had healed. Vestal’s healing paste had worked like a charm.
Irving felt the odd cold paste on his shoulder as it did its work. He shivered as the cold goo touched his skin. After around fifteen minutes, Vestal turned to look at Irving. She removed his arm from the sling.
“Try moving your arm, Mr. Reese.”
Irving nodded as he moved his arm. He grimaced at first, as it had been a while since he could move his arm. Soon, Irving swung the arm and smiled.
“That goo is amazing!”
Vestal smiled. She knew that “goo” was an odd, but fitting nickname for the “healing paste” that she had.
Irving was often quite busy doing the odd job for the other shipgirls. This time, he didn’t mind. He knew that the odd job here and there was worth it to be with Enterprise.
He was often busy doing his treatments with Vestal to heal his injured lungs.
Vestal had a stethoscope on Irving’s chest to listen to his breathing.
“Your breathing sounds good, Mr. Reese.”
Irving nodded. He had been listening to Vestal’s orders to the tee. He worked hard to become fully healed for both himself and Enterprise.
Irving decided that he and Malcolm would hang out at the bar on base, as they wanted to talk to each other.
Irving made his way to the bar and ordered a drink.
Malcolm joined him, and the two talked.
“So, when are you gonna propose to Oklahoma?”
Malcolm pulled up a small box containing a ring. He smiled as he looked at the small golden object.
“I was planning on doing it tonight, on the beach,”
Irving nodded.
“Hey, Bartender. Two beers for me and my friend here!”
Once the beers were served, Irving started a toast. He had a wide grin on his face.
“To you, Malcolm. I hope it all goes well.”
“To me.”
They laughed as they clinked their glasses together. The two men drank their beers.
“Do you want Enterprise and I to be there for it?”
“I would love to see Enterprise’s reaction”
“How would you want me to convince her? I want her to be surprise, and she might find it strange that we are both going to the beach in the evening.”
Malcolm smirked.
“Tell her you want to go on a date on the beach. I know that you guys have not had a beach date in a while.”
Irving nodded.
“Of course. That’s the perfect cover. I’ve been wanting to go on another beach date, anyway.”
Irving nodded and paid for the beers.
“Well, good luck Malcolm. I hope it all goes well.”
Irving entered Enterprise’s room. She was sitting on the couch, petting Grim.
Irving sat down on the couch and asked Enterprise the question.
“Hey, you want to go to the beach tonight? It’s been a while since we were on a date.”
Enterprise turned and kissed Irving on the lips.
“Of course. I’ve been wanting to be with you ever since you got discharged.”
Soon, they were on the beach. Irving was wearing his white swim trunks and a white tank top to cover up his injuries. While Enterprise was in her white bikini top with a black bikini bottom. Irving smiled.
“You want to go to where the waves are?”
Enterprise nodded, and the couple went to the surf. They splashed each other with seawater, laughing with delight.
“You act like you haven’t see the ocean all that much.”
Irving smiled.
“I have. I grew up in Brooklyn, after all.”
The couple walked back up to the beach. Irving and Enterprise were holding hands and smiling.
Irving saw Oklahoma and Malcolm, and he gave Malcolm a wink and a nod. Irving and Enterprise walked up to the couple. Malcolm broke the silence.
“Okie, you have made me the happiest man in my life.”
Oklahoma was blushing. She was wearing a white bikini, and she knew that Malcolm and her had been together for a long time.
She knew this could only mean one thing.
Malcolm went down on one knee and opened the box containing a ring. The aquamarine on it shone like a star.
“Oklahoma. Will you marry me?”
Oklahoma covered her mouth and cried tears of joy. She nodded and answered his question.
“Yes.”
She was trying not to lose her words in her tears of joy.
Malcolm and Oklahoma leaned into each other and kissed on the lips. Enterprise was looking at the scene with a shocked look on her face.
Irving smiled, and Enterprise embraced and kissed Irving.
Malcolm and Oklahoma laughed.
“Looks like you guys might be next!”
Irving turned to face Oklahoma.
“I’ll make sure that you guys get married first!”
Enterprise and Irving continued with their beach date.
They knew that Malcolm and Oklahoma would make a great husband and wife.

Pharaoh Ramses II had 129 children, and there is a tale that one day he gathered them and asked them, “Which one among you thinks they resemble me the most?” All of them, girls and boys, answered in a chorus “Me!” The notables around the Pharaoh started laughing, but the Pharaoh calmly told his children that they were all right: “You all resemble me. I am in all of you. So, go and fill the world. Create your clans, your tribes, create your own language but remember that you have admitted that you all resemble me".
tldr: Theres quite a bit of information that id like to share & its counterproductive to split up into 2 threads. Here is the account of the Sages who came to help the human race after disaster. Dont get worked up, These werent aliens. They were men who were treated as Gods AFTER theyd lived life in service to their fellow man. Let me state that Im a native West African keeper of the record of the people whos spent over a decade in the US. We require a modern AND traditional education. Theres no such thing as black or white to us. I despise Afrocentrist as much as the next person, i hate being lumped with who i consider racists more than anything. We don't teach Africa is the center or the cradle of civilization, its Australia. Also, time being linear is nonsense its cyclical such as the seasons. We worship ancestors, because they had the knowledge.. We don't look at the ancient civilizations of Egypt, Mesoamerica as inferior technologically nor do we consider civilization in 2023 'advanced technologically' ...
I wanna share the accurate indigenous wisdom traditions of the Sages that are referenced and stylized in every corner of the globe. These are the statues you see every where from Gobekli Tepe, Easter Island, to the Maori Islands..The Ahu akivi, Shesh or Shakti, the Tiki, etc megaliths who place their hands on their navels. These are who we indigenous consider our ancestors worthy of praise, the Gods as you'd say. But don't project Western beliefs onto our cultures, these were HUMAN BEINGS. They were deified AFTER they passed away. Osiris, Horus, Isis were all from a race of people Flinders Petrie discovered physical evidence of called Aunu. The Book of the Dead tells you about Osiris/Anu.. Kings of Tera neter
F.Petrie History of Egypt -Aunu Earliest civilization The first Kings who were the 'Wise Men from the Upper Nile were known as Aunu. (Google Ainu or Aunu people youll find them in every nook & cranny across the globe. In Louisiana as well as in Japan, and Sumer) There has been discoveries from much earlier than the accepted predynastic period that shows these people had domesticated animals & were using tools for agriculture Long before the accepted period. Heres a list of published works or scientific discoveries that most may not be familiar with. Also, the works of some of the fathers of Western Egyptology 1890s Emile , Project Gutenberg-T Mospero
The most fascinating civilizations of antiquity all show that they digressed as time went on, they didnt advance as youd think. The Oldest pyramid used Granite, basalt, Diorite, the recent discovery in Mexico shows that the Mesoamericans were at their peak the further back we go.Egypt: Those long reigns like most of the cultures of our ancestors SHOULDNT BE TAKEN LITERALLY. "The simplest explanation " is why so little is known about humanitys past. The ancient people of Egypt would say “he died aged 110” which referred to someone who lived life to the full and who offered an important contribution to society.
The most advanced human beings were the demigods of Sumer-Apkallu, 9 unknown Men-India, 7Sages -Greek, Ahu Akivi, Egypt-Shemsu Hor Today, Neb(High Priest) Manetho is considered the leading authority on Egypt and tells us during Zep Tepi They were “divine beings who knew how the temples and sacred places were to be created.” The Sages were divine survivors of a previous cataclysm who made a new beginning. Originally, they came from an island – the Homeland of the Primeval Ones --the majority of whose divine inhabitants were drowned. Arriving in Egypt, the survivors became “the builder Gods, who fashioned in the primeval time, the Lords of Light . . . the Ghosts, the Ancestors . . . who raised the seed for gods and men . . . the Senior Ones who came into being at the beginning, who illumined this land when they came forth unitedly Aswan obelisk - Elephantine
The Egyptian people didn't necessarily have a name for their civilization before the Shemsu Hor(Companions/People/Followers of Horus) arrived, they would call themselves 42 Tribes of 'Sesh', because they'd come from 42 different directions. A true meltingpot, where survivors gathered together from about every race you can name. After the golden age they then refer to themselves as Sheshu hor , "the people of the realized man"
Pharoah is from the Per-Ra, which youd probably say means house of Ra the Sun God. While true the word Ra had eventually begun to be used to denote the Sun-God in early dynastic periods, it was not yet designed as a proper name for the deity but rather a quality, or more correctly, an epithet. It initially meant “shining,” “brightness” or “light bringer one that shines high above"The Shining House”. We should remember here that the word Per (house) also meant dynasty in the Ancient Egyptian language (just like in some Western languages) as well as a physical building. Hence, the word Per-Ra actually points at a special group of people, like “the shining dynasty” or “the bright rulers.” The three pyramids of Giza were aligned in a pattern which was a perfect reflection of the stars in Orion’s Belt in 10,450 B.C., when Orion was at its closest to the southern horizon in the 25,900- year cycle of the precession of the equinoxes. Dhejuty was the King & the sacred knowledge was kept by the priestly elites /7 sages known as Shemsu Hor or ,"The Followers of Horus”. They used the heavens as a Legominism, taken from the sunken land theyd arrived from which used the stars as a means of passing and preserving knowledge down through time’s "inherent, law-conformable distortions".
The thread i made a week or so ago gives accounts from many ancient historians on how the Giza pyramid were thousands of years older than accepted. Josephus says they were built by Sons of Seth & youll see later that Petrie'Father of modern Egyptology ' found the Sons of Seth. (Plutarch mentions Hermes 'the 8'... him and the 7 sages he brought) Cedrenus' account says "Enoch(Thoth, Hermes, Dhejuty)foreseeing the destruction of the Earth, had inscribed the science of astronomy upon two pillars". The god of intelligence of the Egyptians was Thoth, Hermes was what the Sabians called him. Hermes was, however, called the son of Seth, and this deity is in some sense to be identified with Thoth(Tau). The Christian cross is based off the Tau ("take up your cross & walk") Jesus( Issa) was saying to remove the illusion of self. The Ego, look inside for your divine nature. I detail the Tau symbol & T shaped pillars of Gobekli Tepe, the Puma Punku site is TShaped , sites like the Ki Va of SouthW US Indians.. we are 1 people, there's no such thing as race.
In a passage of the Book of the Dead, the he has the name Tet. The oldest accounts of travel to Giza, is the Arab star-worshippers mentioned above "Sabians of Harran".. they were already traveling to leave offerings at the Giza pyramid in 1,730 - 1,575 BC.
Paleolithic burial of modern human Taramsa Hill Egypt
The Sumerian kings list mentioned the Kushite being the location that civilization restarted after the cataclysm that had destroyed the island mentioned above. The 3 sons of the King who is mentioned by the Aztec, Rapa Nui, that were sent out as Emissaries are the same 3 sons of Noah in the Bible. In support of the Sumerian claims about The Kush is the Earliest writing Dr Dreyer in a tomb in Abydos.
The Papyrus of Hunefer or Ani states the very same that Diodorus & Herodotus did much later. "We came from the beginning of the Nile where God Hapi dwells, at the foothills of The Mountains of the Moon" Diodorus Siculus Ethiopians were the first men that ever lived, the only truly autochthonous race and the first to institute the worship of the gods and the rites of sacrifice. Egypt itself was a colony of Ethiopia and the laws and script of both lands were naturally the same; but the hieroglyphic script was more widely known to the vulgar in Ethiopia than in Egypt. (Diodorus Siculus, bk. iii, ch. 3.) This knowledge of writing was universal in Ethiopia but was confined to the priestly classes alone in Egypt. This was because the Egyptian priesthood was Ethiopian. The highly developed Merodic inscriptions are not found in Egypt north of the first cataract or in Nubia south of Soba. These are differences we would expect to find between a colony and a parent body. Herodotus (bk. ii, p. 29) Homer and Herodotus call all the peoples of the Sudan, Egypt, Arabia, Palestine and Western Asia and India Ethiopians.”
During the invasions the bloodlines in charge of the highest echelons of knowledge decided to migrate from the Itoure(nile River) area in order to preserve the integrity of the knowledge itself. I made a threadon the Hopi migration from Kasskara already, the Maya Chilam (Mouthpiece of the Gods) "Carry your great books into the jungles. Place your histories deeply in caverns where none of these men can find them. Nor do you bring them back to the sunlight until the War-Cycle is over. For these bearded strangers are the children of War. They speak my precepts, but their ears do not listen. They have but one love and that is for weapons. " see, we don't have some imaginary sky daddy. These were all our ancestors who had the knowledge & were God's for what they did for humanity.
When Diodorus Siculus says "This knowledge of writing was universal in Ethiopia but was confined to the priestly classes alone in Egypt. This was because the Egyptian priesthood was Ethiopian" & "Black skinned priests who conferred with red men who we see depicted as GodKings he was talking about my predecessors the "Nabateans". The Sabaean people used an ancient Semitic tongue of their own, Sabaean or Himyaritic, which is what Ethiopian is based on.The 2 bloodlines were my Mande(Malinke-Bambara) lineage & the Gourmantche. To protect the initiations, the Dogoncharge of the highest echelons of knowledge decided to migrate from that area in order to preserve the integrity of the knowledge itself. They decided to no longer build elaborate and grand structures similar to the ones they built in the Nile valley which brought the attention of the invaders. They realized such material structures werent necessary to live a life focused on spiritual development. . I earned the title of Naba Seri(Neb-Master or Priest) after 15 yr of education in the same teachings of the mystery schools in Botu & Heliopos. We initiates of The Cult of Lebe(the Serpent God of the Dogon(Enki) have always been the Priests while the( 'Rot' Red men) were kings. In Bible theres mention of the Nomadic priests called Nabateans & the children of Isreal only listening to them, same group. Naba comes from Neb, the Egyptian MeduNtr for Priest(https://www.gutenberg.org/files/1397/1397-h/1397-h.htm)
-Raymond Dart- population fluctuation 7000 yr Egypt "Only 1% of pre-dynastic Egyptian skulls are brachycephalic (round or spherical): El Amrah 1% (101 skulls), Nagada, 1.9% (314 skulls), El Badari 0% (79 skulls).
From Dynasty I to VI (Old Kingdom), brachycephaly does also not exceed a single percent. However during the First Intermediate Period of Egypt 2181–2055 BC or Dynasty IX, 11.6% of skulls are brachycephalic or round." In other words, In ancient Egypt most of the Egyptians were dolichocephalic, or had long heads.I discussed the family of Nefertiti in the thread on Atlantis and youll see ALL members of that lineage had dolichocephalic, or long skulls
Dr. W. J. Perry refers to it as the Archaic Civilization. Sir Grafton Elliot Smith terms it the Neolithic Heliolithic Culture of the Brunet-Browns. Mr. Wells alludes to this early civilization in his Outline of History, and dates its beginnings as far back as 15,000 years B.C. Elliot Smith called the Heliolithic (sun-stone) culture, included many or all of the following odd practices: (1) Circumcision, (2) the queer custom of sending the father to bed when a child is born, known as Couvade, (3) the practice of Massage, (4) the making of Mummies, (5) Megalithic monuments (i.e. Stonehenge), (6) artificial deformation of the heads of the young by bandages, (7) Tattooing, (8) religious association of the Sun and the Serpent, and (9) the use of the symbol known as the Swastika for good luck. We have ceremonial dolls that have the symbol resembling the Swastika today. Dogon -Dama -Hopi-Kachina It's important that we maintain what our ancestors taught...

Discovered by u/ivyccld. Find the original post here.
I'm going to go through and type out all of Wally's responses! Most are random but others have lore significance. Most of the lore ones are towards the bottom.
Scott: Where am I? Wally: with me neighbor
Grace: Wally you are very handsome. <3 Wally: thank you
Doinktv: HONK! Wally: honk honk haha
Gremmie: What a beautiful place - There's no lovelier location around, I'm sure! And so well put-together too, what a delight. Wally: thank you i hope you think it is beautiful
Sally: Wow, I thought I had completely forgotten about this show, but this website has reignited so many childhood memories I thought I had lost. Thank you for making this lovely site =) Wally: sally is that you Note: He's asking if this is Sally. Could this mean that the other characters escaped? Or possibly that Wally is the only sentient one and trying to figure out if the others are as well?
Facefullabugs: So glad to see this up! This is GORGEOUS! Wally: i love bugs
Friendly Frankenstein: What a wonderful little place this is! I think I know some of these faces, but wow how wonderful to see them all here! And thank you for putting such a beautiful little site together, it's just amazing. Wally: our neighbors are here! thank you too neighbor
MaddieC: How's it going Wally: Its a apple
Watchy: Hey Wally I hope you’re cool and not super evil that’d be a real bummer Wally: you dont like me neighbor
equation: i love the colors! theres so many here ^_^ Wally: here you go *draws a rainbow*
Judy: Hello! Wally: hello neighbor
Westbrook: how lovely!!! poppy is so darling!! Wally: poppy is big i love her too
Roger: [0: Wally: i like your nose
bittern: i love frank B) Wally: i love frank too, he frowns, i think he is funny
Marisol: What a darling place~ I feel so lucky to have found it... everyone seems so friendly and bright! I'll be sure to come by often. :) Wally: you are lucky! come by often neighbor
Froot: i feel welcomed and homed =] Wally: homed!
Infinitestyle: This has brought a smile to my grumpy clown face. Wally: its okay to frown you are still my friend
Mocha: Howdy-ho neighbor! Didn't see yeah there Wally: do you see howdy now
Eli: Julie is my friend now. :) Wally: julie is my friend too
Jacky: *lots and lots of "Hello!"* Wally: i can hear you neighbor.
bugman: i lik bugz (: Wally: here is a bug for you neighbor
Seb: I LOVE IT HERE i would like to hold eddie's hand and give him a kiss :) Wally: i will mail him a letter for you
Rhia: I want julie to know i love her very much thank you :) Wally: i promise i will tell her
worm: wiggle wiggle wiggle wiggle :) Wally: i do not know what wiggle is, barnaby said it was this Note: Clear communication with at least Barnaby
Bird: Sally my beloved <3 <3 <3 Wally: i know Sally
Emily: Why do you like eye contact? Wally: so you will know i am looking at you neighbor, i am talking to you Note: Wally draws a big spiral here like we see on the uncovered version of his house in the map.
Vespi: No Fear :) Wally: i love you i love you
Hopper: :D Wally: we are happy, do you look like this
Cloudy: Hello! I love clowns! Show me one! Wally: i do not know what clown is, i asked frank, he said barnaby, here is barnaby. Note: Though depicted as a clown, Baraby is never directly called one. Confirmed contact with Frank.
Cyborg: Look ma I'm on TV! Wally: you are on tv!
Milly: what lovely houses Wally: i love home, home is my friend
Tobijam: Eddie is a friend, and I like em : - ) Wally: eddie is a friend i like him too, he runs too much
PiggyPie: I absolutely love it here, it's a wonderful place to be! Puppets are one of my favorites, the character design makes me feel so happy! ^🐽^ 💕 Wally: i am a puppet! i am your favorite!
Star: This is a lovely vibe and colorful dream ^^ Wally: good night neighbor
Corbin: Hello! Wally: hello, you see this
Peony: <3! Wally: this is a heart
TeeVee: Fun concept, can't wait to see more, keep up the awesome work! Wally: tv tv tv
Alucard: Frank you are very handsome and I would love to catch bugs with you! 🖤🐛 Wally: i will tell frank for you, the bug will look like this
Morqua: ohhh such a nice place to visit!! warms my heart and I feel blessed Wally: you will come with me
B: Frank is my favorite >:) Wally: frank i will tell Frank
Katie: hello !! this place makes me feel very comfy ! your house is very cute wally c: Wally: thank you, Katie!
Nenkaii: WOWOIEE!!!!!!!! wweoosewwowie!!! howse! Wally: howse howse
Teresa: A friend led me here and said "Explore". I'm pretty sure I'm lost but I'm also okay with it. :) Wally: i will help you neighbor hal: omw to tell howdy a joke and then ask for his heart in return Wally: do he sell his heart
Jojo: (✿◕‿◕✿) Wally: who is this
Cherry: Wally, if you see this, you are 💛Gorgeous💛. I can’t wait to see how it progresses! Wally: thank you Cherry! I think I am pretty too!
Buttercream: What a lovely place this is. I truly feel welcomed and at home. Wally: you wipe your shoes here! *draws a welcome mat*
Julie: I'm really excited about this project! I've always loved things like Sesame Street and the Muppets, and having a game based on that aesthetic is super interesting to me! Also I find it neat that I share names with one of the characters! Wally: share, Oh you are not Julie, I will tell Julie, So much family!
Pearlie: The infamous kitty cat ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ Wally: Kitty cat, famous, tv
nick: i am in pain but this is cool to see Wally: youll be okay!
Milk & Zeke: We went through this neighborhood together! (well, it was their first time here. I've visited Home before!) This place is so cute and we're glad to be Wally's friend :) Wally: we are friends!
falling: wally is a jokester. a lollygagger so to speak. a tomfooler and maybe even a hoaxer. a jokesmith. or even a humorist Wally: no, I am wally, I am your friend
Morning: 🐞🦋 Wally: i have seen them before, do they like each other.
ant: i know what you are Wally: you do, i am so happy Note: A tic-tac-toe board is drawn here and is seen in numerous other photos throughout the website. Could this mean something?
bee: I'mbzz bzzzz! BZZ!!! Wally: oh I understand! we are playing! i have you!
Watchy: Hello Wally. I'd like to clarify that I actually like you very much. You're the most! Wally: I'm the most most
Flower: Yahoo! Yippee! a wonderful little neighborhood with great neighbors to boot! I bap Wally's hair-floof so sweetly. Wally: Yahoo Yippee Yahoo Yippee
Snail: An absolutely darling little neighborhood, I too feel most welcomed and immense joy when seeing all the neighbors that live here, Eddie and Julie being my two personal favorites <3 Wally: do you like Frank
Nostalgia: Alright but I simp for Wally- It says that we're best friends. He says that he knows me. AND BOY DO I WANNA KNOW HIM I WANNA BE MORE THAN BEST FRIENDS >:D i wanna smile. Wally: then answer me
ByeClownGuy: Been to plenty of place's seen a lot of faces But this takes the cake as the friendliest Felt right at home but now it’s time to rome but I’ll be back you can bet on that (o: Wally: Are you singing
Cici: What a nice little community! :D I hope I get to move in one day :33 Take care everyone and have a lovely day <3 Wally: you will
Savanah: Wally is such a doll! <3 Wally: no, a puppet Note: Wally draws an eye here which is another symbol we see throughout the website. Who is watching?
Note: The following text is scribbled over and is completely unreadable without copying and pasting the text elsewhere. Alex: this website has secrets i just know it Wally: 69154f_9adc1a2762974387967d98d074560168~mv2 Note: Wally begins to respond with gibberish. Perhaps a file name, code, or clue to another webpage. All drawings following this one are strings of text and numbers..
UNTIL: Mr. Teddy: Barnaby!!! Oh I just LOVED him when I was a little kid!!!! Thank you for bringing back such fond childhood memories!! \(⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)/ Wally: Love him, youre remember
Rhiana: I love Welcome Home, it's so brilliant and I look forward to anything about it <3 Wally: Its not time yet, im looking
...: ... ​ where am I?? What is this place... if someone is reading this please help me, i have no clue what is happening here and there are these, people, i think thats what they are, they look almost like strange puppets from a child's book... but if theres anyone out there reading this... help me... please Wally: why are you fibbing? you are not here, i dont see you, please do not lie to me
B.L.P e Issac.: Oh my! I love the yellow here.. It's the most beautiful yellow I've ever seen! Wally: i like yellow too, im yellow, sally is yellow, franks nose is yellow
Thomas Hingle (Thinglet247): I wonder just what happens in this neighborhood. Wally: I dont know either
Jackob:​ Man, it's been years since I thought about this show. I genuinely thought I made it up was I was a kid, the memory of it has always been this unreachable itch in the back of my mind. Hopefully, this project will help scratch it a bit. Wally: Scratch harder
minaaaaa: julie!!!!! please be my valentine <3 Wally: Valentine, i will tell her
Roro: I like rats Wally: Rat
Wally: Wally!! We have the same name. I think that's pretty cool! :D Wally: our name
Nosipho: Hiya Wally! You and your friends sure seem like a bunch of wonderful folks! What’s your favorite memory with each of your friends? Wally: no memory Note: Wally completely scratches out the first part of this message. "Hiya Wally! You an-"
Dark: Well howdy there neighbor! How are the gang doing today? Wally: everyone is happy
Elliot =): This is such a whimsical little website!! I plan to visit Home again soon and I hope everyone has a wonderful day!! =) (Before I go, I'm going to leave some treats for the neighbours, I hope they like them!!) 🍨🍦🍰🧁🍩🍿🍭🍬 Wally: i cant reach them, im sorry
Tommy: What a lovely place you have here! I am very excited to see what's in store. I hope Wally knows that he is my favorite :-) Wally: im your favorite, that makes me happy, than you
Ana: I love you :3 Wally: i love you too
Cuantum: Everything seems very cute! Wally seems fun but serious, I wonder what sort of stuff he'd get into in the show? Wally: paint
Kale: Gotta say, I don't know much about the show but my father said he and his siblings used to watch it when they were little. I can see why they enjoyed it so much! I definitely would have if I grew up with it! Barnaby probably would've been my favorite, I always loved dogs Wally: what is your father
Iris: so excited about this this shit is so scary (Note: Shit, and all other curse words, are censored in the guestbook.) Wally: dont be afraid
Rocky: Hi Wally! I am mailing you a cookie and a kiss. Let me know if you get it! :0) Wally: i could not find them, i will look harder
gigi: i see you!! 👁 hehe Wally: hahaha
Soph: Little guys on my screen! Wally: is it me
The Lost red shoe: Really hope the welcome home crew knows how to tie there shoes Wally: its very hard
​Kazoo: HIIII I love it so much here!!!! If Eddie is reading this, me, my brother and my friend all have a huge crush on you HAHAHDGFG Wally: i told him, he said hes flattered, i dont know what anyone is talking about Note: Perhaps more than one voice is speaking, not just Wally.
Charlie :) : Wally is already my favourite Wally: i am your favorite too, im very happy

Written By - Ecrossings
As businesses continue to hire new employees, the importance of conducting thorough background checks can't be overstated. The rise of social media platforms and online communication channels means that potential hires have more opportunities than ever before to misrepresent themselves, making it harder for employers to make informed decisions about who they should bring on board. That's where professional background check services come in handy. By leveraging advanced tools and techniques, these service providers help employers verify candidate information, identify risks and avoid costly hiring mistakes. In this post, we'll explore the benefits of using professional background check services for hiring – so you can make more informed hiring decisions with confidence employment verification company in India.
Introduction
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Benefits of using Virtual Employer background check services
There are many benefits to using Virtual Employer background check services when hiring new employees. Perhaps the most obvious benefit is that it can help you avoid hiring someone with a criminal record or who has lied on their resume.
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Conclusion
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Google Map - https://goo.gl/maps/php89Zk8poLVeQWB7

Centurions
Issue #17 - You’ve Been Summoned
Written By: FrostFireFive
Edited By: u/MadUncleSheogorath, u/DarkLordJurasus , and u/PresidentWerewolf
Arc: Trial of the Centurions
“So tell me, have the preparations been made?” A blonde woman in billowing purple and lilac robes asked as she looked out from her citadel. Otherworld was a strange place where she could see the knights gathering on the rolling hills to engage in their games, useless after the creation of the Corps. She and the Starlight Citadel could be in every Otherworld there was at a moment’s notice no matter the universe. As this particular Otherworld’s recent upset with Chthon had proved, there were always problems to act upon. But despite her influence, she did not rule. *Yet.* “I want to ensure those aberrations are treated like they should be.”
“They have, Majestrix Saturnyne,” Kapitän Großbritannien explained. He was her warden, someone that she could entrust with this mission. For someone who prided herself on control, she had been feeling it slip. Earth-913 was supposed to be a boring backwater with a dashing Captain Britain she could puppet. But recently, she had noticed him slacking on the job, and actions needed to be taken. Heaven forbid anyone thought that Saturnyne lacked the iron fist she needed in Otherworld. “I know some may disagree. But putting these abominations on trial for their crimes is the right call. We must make the Multiverse pure and free of any arbitration.”
“Ah yes, your… ideology,” Saturyne mumbled as she continued to look out at Otherworld. She could see her Captains make haste to the Starlight Citadel, all receiving her call as she prepared to assert her dominance over Merlin and Roma. This would be her crowning victory. Even if she had to work with a Nazi to do it. The good Kapitän had conviction and a fever which she needed. But still the sooner it was over, the sooner she wouldn’t have to deal with such stains on her perfect Corps. “Just know that no harm can come to the accused. Not until judgment has been made. Do you understand?”
“I cannot help if harm comes to these freaks if they resist,” he smiled a toothy grin. Kapitän Großbritannien enjoyed his position as Saturyne’s warden. The rare time he could dispense the justice he wanted without the other Corpsmen calling him a monster, or staring at him in disgust as he walked the halls of the Starlight Citadel. It was not his fault that their worlds weren’t blessed with accepting the message of the fuhrer.
“No harm,” Saturnyne hissed. His eagerness was even obvious from here. “We ensure victory. Killing them would also upset forces we are strong enough to handle. Besides I haven’t finished creating the new look for this new era of excellence for the Corps.”
“Understood Majestrix,” Kapitän Großbritannien said as he bowed to Saturnyne before turning and walking out to the courtyard to prepare the mystics. “The Centurions will be here within the hour.”
Saturnyne smiled. It was time to put on a show.
…
“So like, you haven’t talked to him at all?” Morph asked as he sat next to Steve Rogers, watching the Cubs vs. the Dodgers in a spring training game. Morph had spent way too much time in Chicago trying to establish himself as a song and dance man to not absorb that city’s sports teams. And Steve was trying to relax after dinosaur hunting in New York, certain revelations and names ringing in his ears.
“No, I’ve been busy making sure New York didn’t turn into a pulp fiction cover. And trying to help locate iso-sphere pieces,” Steve Rogers grumbled as he took a sip of his beer. There had been skirmishes lately, mostly fighting Matt the Kid or Captain Krakoa, with the Centurions securing a few more pieces of the sphere. “Besides, Bucky has his own worries now. Me coming back into everyone’s life would just complicate things.”
“Please, I’m sure he’ll be happy to know he’s not the only Captain America running around,” Morph said before looking at the screen. The players were new to him, no Wood Jr. on the team, but they were still making mistakes. “Goddamn it you got to reach for that ball!”
”That’s not me anymore. The sooner this is all over, the sooner I’ll go back into space, away from the mess that this world has become,” Rogers explained.
“You’re just mad the Dodgers moved from Brooklyn to LA,” Morph joked. “Besides, you’re from here but all you do is just grumble. You and Blink are like…so similar in your problems it’s crazy. There’s a whole life outside of war my dude, You got to learn to enjoy it.”
“And you do?” Rogers asked.
“Hey, me and Mayday and Jean go out every time we fight someone, mostly because life’s too short to build walls, and the renovation specials at Josie’s are to die for. Besides, I’m this close to finally beating May in darts,” Morph explained. “You got to live a little.”
“I guess,” Rogers grumbled as Freeman jacked a ball deep into left, with the Cubs’ left fielder reaching into the ivy to make the grab and out. “See that’s the problem, if they were playing in Brooklyn they’d be used to the cold.”
“Please, pretty boy over there needs more power, maybe less tofu and more hotdogs, get that beef,” Morph joked. “Come out with us next time though. I promise it’s a good time and that Jean won’t say oh my god it’s Captain America every time.”
“Promise?” Rogers asked.
“Hand to god,” Morph said.
“I‘ll consider it,” Steve said as he took another swig of his beer. The two began to glow a bright blue though as they were whisked away. Baseball and bars would have to wait. They were needed for justice to be dispensed.
…
“Once again I’m going to have to go over covalent bonds,” Greer muttered as she looked over the papers on her desk. She had resumed teaching after the dinosaur incident in New York. She stared at the communicator on her desk. Tony Stark gave them out and Greer had managed to give some to the heroes in her Rolodex. But she couldn’t stop thinking about New York, about him or what she was capable of.
Greer grazed the necklace on her neck, remembering the monster that came out as New York embraced its savage side. Before Marc, Greer saw Tigra as a blessing, a way to strike back against the monsters that had taken so much from her. She was a hero, someone who would fight for the weak, help evacuate people when that dude with winged feet flooded New York. But now…now Greer wasn’t so sure.
The animal that struck against the dinosaurs, the blood on her claws? That was a part of Greer she couldn’t believe was well…a part of her. She had shunned Marc for his bloodlust, for his willingness to get his hands dirty and find a…deadly solution to crime. It’s why they broke up, why Greer left New York for Chicago.
But she had given Moon Knight the communicator, she had embraced a savage side of herself for a moment…and it felt good. And now? Now she couldn’t even focus on grading papers, just only on her sins. She was lost, even if she didn’t want to admit it. Greer needed help. She needed someone to talk to. She reached for the communicator ready to call him, before she began to glow a brilliant white. Professor Greer was needed elsewhere, as was the beast within.
…
The hot water hit Jean Grey’s body as she stepped into the shower. Back home she would have killed for water this hot. As the only girl in the mansion, she was often last for everything, especially shower time. Worse, Bobby would always be in before her, so no matter how hot Jean cranked the lever, the water was always cold
But as her bare feet found their place in the fresh green tile, Jean thought back to her time in the mansion. She had been there three years, surrounded by a gaggle of teenage boys and their hot rods and dates. Xavier’s was always a party spot when the professor had government trips that he needed to go on, but Jean was more content to stay in her room and dance to whatever Beatles or Byrds album she could get her hands on.
“You don’t realize how much I need you,” Jean softly sang as her hands moved to scrub her deep red hair. Almost as if she was trying to scrub her brain with how deep of a message she was giving herself. “Love you all the time…never leave you.”
Jean hated long showers normally, she was frugal in wanting to not waste any time, her change of clothes had a habit of disappearing if she took time to make sure she cleaned between her toes. But since coming to this Earth, she had found her teammates to be much less interested in what was under her skirt and blouse. As the water coursed down she continued to scrub with the loofa, her thoughts darting to her last time in church.
She was…well she didn’t want to say that word, saying that word would mean it was real. But still as her hands moved around, she thought of May, and suddenly the heat of the shower seemed to be cranked up past its limits, as all the tension from her problems released.
“Please come on… back to me. I’m lonely as can be…” Jean sang as the shower head’s water worked its way again through her hair, the shampoo cleansing but splashing into her eyes.
“Gah!” she called out as she stumbled out of the shower. Even now she couldn’t take a shower without blinding herself. As her feet landed on one light blue towel on the ground, she took the second light green towel to dry her body and hair. Jean kept thinking about Mayday. They were supposed to go down to the park today, with May wanting to show Jean some basketball court she had been cleaning up in, whatever that meant. It was just nice to be by her.
Jean looked at herself in the mirror for a moment, her face free of her basic makeup and clothes. She normally wouldn’t stare. Being natural meant having your hair dolled up, the perfect makeup, and an outfit you spent hours figuring out. But the girl facing back at her, striking green eyes, the messy but deep red shoulder length hair, the freckles that darted her face, arms, and chest. She didn’t look away as she wrapped the green towel around her.
She was Jean Grey, and she was beginning to like herself as she reached down for her clothes for the day. But before she could dress herself or even pick up something to wear, she glowed a bright red before vanishing. Soon… Jean Grey would have to make a choice.
…
“What the actual fuck!” Mayday Parker asked as she landed on a circular hardwood floor. Mayday was wearing shorts and her Knicks t-shirt as she had been working on her shot in her room, the small NERF basketball and basket was preparing her for Mayday’s pickup games in the park on Saturday. She looked and saw a gaggle of people around her. Mostly her teammates, but a few new strangers as well. A man dressed in the British flag as well as tartan colors, a woman in a purple fuzzy robe, a t-shirt, and shorts with striking purple hair, and a Morph in an all blue suit?
“Spidering, now is not the time to panic,” Blink said as she walked towards Mayday. She was dressed in her green battle dress with a new added feature, a metal collar that had blinking lights upon it. “Have they also put an accursed collar on you as well?”
“No? At least I’m wearing what I’m supposed to wear. No shooters or costume though,” Mayday explained as the purple haired woman approached them.
“You guys good? I know it may be your first time dealing with teleporting, and I just want to make sure that you’re not feeling it. When I got ‘ported the first time, I felt like I was finished with several after-parties.,” The woman said. Her accent was English, though none of them could place it
“We are no partiers, woman, we are a band of multiversal warriors fighting in the contest of champions. I do not need your pity,” Blink explained. The opposing woman raised a finely shaped brow.
“What my friend is trying to say is that we’re used to being teleported in the middle of doing shit. I’m Mayday Parker, Spider-Girl, and this is my brisk associate, well I don’t know her real name, but Blink.”
“Oh, neat,” the woman said. “My name is Psylocke or Betsy, second in command of Excalibur. I was supposed to be watching Notting Hill,-but someone just had to want waffles at one in the morning!”
Betsy’s head swiveled, staring at the Morph that was most assuredly not the one they were all familiar with. “It’s Muir Island, Morph. You’re lucky we had any batter!”
“Hey! Waffles are fantastic, it’s not my fault yourmystic bullshit got me here. Besides, you ate two!” The Morph in the blue costume responded as he moved over to the threesome. “Besides, it can't be too bad if you’re hanging with some babes.”
“Babes?” Blink grumbled as she swept her foot, knocking over the blue suited Morph and knocking him to the ground. Her foot pressed against this Morph’s throat. “I assumed you would have known better than that Morph. I am not some prize to be lusted over.”
“Whoa! Whoa!” a voice said as the Centurions’ Morph appeared, his form changing into a ref’s jersey and gear as he broke up Blink and the other Morph. “I am right here, although I will say you sure are a handsome devil.”
“Likewise,” the other Morph said as he tried not freaking out that his exact double was standing in front of him. He really hated clones. Especially since the incident with Dazzler and Mr. Sinister. “But Bets, shouldn’t we check to see if they’re more Sinister clones? I mean Blink’s a kid at Xavier. Not a bab-full grown woman. And Spider-Man is a dude. I think.”
“None of the Centurions are clones,” the mechanical voice of Mainframe said, as the black and gold armor landed in front of them. T.O.N.I. undid her helmet, revealing the friendly feminine holographic face to the rest of them. “I tested all of their DNA to make sure that all of them are happy and healthy. And other than Mayday needing more vitamin C, all of them are genuine.”
“Hey, I drink OJ every morning!” Mayday rebutted.
As the group gathered, Brian Braddock was observing the scruffy warrior who observed the round room they were in. They were wearing a blue tactical shirt and fatigues. The red circle and white star seemed familiar, a symbol of hope and freedom.The rest seemed like good people, at the very least, excitable. Betsy could handle them while Brian valiantly could figure just what the hell they had gotten themselves into. The last time he’d been teleported in this manner, it had been at the behest of Merlin. Brianflew up for a moment before a voice called out.
“Wouldn’t do that if I were you,” The scruffy man called out, arms across his chest as he watched Brian.
“Ahh, I can handle myself. I’m a representative of the Captain Britain Corps. It’s probably best I take rank given the summons It’s up to me to save the day andnd figure out where we are,” Brian spoke valiantly and he flew up to the sky away from the open circular room. But instead of tasting fresh air his head clanked against an invisible dome, sending him to the ground.
“Dumbass,” Betsy mumbled as her brother came down with a hard thud. She reached down, hoisting the hero back up onto his feet.
“You would have known that if you had bothered doing recon before flying high because of your rank,” Steve Rogers explained. “Leaders take time to think, not rush.”
Brian made a tutting noise. ,”
“God, you remind me of Sid.” Brian muttered, annoyed that he had been taken from his studies. The Multiverse had to be understood, particularly with a looming threat. Thames University was his first love, but with his role… well he had been feeling as if he had forgotten something about his mantle, something that nagged at him.
“He’s Captain Am- actually Mayday says we should call him by his real name,” A voice said. “Captain Steve Rogers.”
Brian stared down Captain Rogers. The dots began to connect, though he wasn’t convinced.
“Steve Rogers is dead. I’m supposed to believe he’s standing here? Come on, even pulling Bucky out of the ice was pushing it.” Brian shrugged, and Betsy gave him a look like thunder.
“Because he’s one of us,” Mayday explained as she moved to the two captains' conversation. “You know, a Centurion. Like my pal Jeanie explained. Which, speaking of, Jean where are you?”
“That’s not important,” the voice said again from behind a table that had been tipped over.
“Oh come on, there’s two Morphs! You got to see this!” Mayday explained as she kept over the table to land in a puddle of water. She gave a face before seeing Jean Grey huddled, still soaked, and clinging to her green towel. “Oh.”
“Gah!” Jean called out as she hugged on to her towel tightly, hoping it was covering everything. “May I said NOT to come over here.”
“Well I didn’t, I mean you should have been, there are two Morphs!” Mayday said as she struggled to find the words while trying not to stare. Mayday’s wandering eye was her biggest weakness, but she had to be strong. “OK everyone, no one goes behind this table without asking me first!”
“Why what’s behind the table?” The blue suited Morph asked. And by Jeanie do you mean the Jean Grey? I heard she’s a hot one!” Before he could say another word, the Morph of the Centurions biffed the other Morph in the back of the head. “Ow!”
“We don’t hit on Marvel Girl!” He exclaimed, annoyed at how familiar this Morph reminded him of himself from his failed solo career. “Everything OK there, Jean?”
“No! Well… yes?” Jean struggled to answer, panicking and clinging to whatever dignity she could find.
“Listen Jeanie,” Mayday said as she squatted down. “You got dealt a bad hand again, but we’re going to need you. Towel and all.”
“But May…” Jean stuttered.
“If anyone talks shit, I’ll kick their ass. And that’s a promise,” Mayday explained. She meant every word that she said. She was tired of the multiverse seemingly picking on them, dragging them unaware, and hurting someone so sweet and kind as Marvel Girl.
“Fine,” Jean muttered as she stood up carefully, one hand on the table to boost her up, the other on her towel. “Hello…everyone, I’m Jean, Marvel Girl to my foes,” she awkwardly joked as Betsy Braddock moved over to her.
“Nice to meet you Jean, I’m Betsy,” she began as she used her body along with Mayday to block Jean from view. “Listen, judging by how unphased most of you are, I’m guessing this isn’t your first time dealing with weird things.. Now I can give you this fuzzy purple robe of mine. Not fashionable mind you but probably better than a towel.”
Jean nodded as Betsy began untying her robe. Before she could hand it off to Jean however the floor began to move upwards as white light began moving the spaced out objects, chairs, tables, benches, even a large wooden desk in the center.
“It is…” Mainframe began to say.
“A courtroom,” Blink finished through gritted teeth.
As the floor rose, the crowd in the stands became visible. Their red, blue, and white regalia was similar to Brian’s, as the young hero struggled as he recognized the many visages in the crowd… as himself.
“How astute,” A woman in purple and white robes said as she floated down above into the judge’s seat, a diamond gavel in her hands as she eyed the crowd and the defendants. They were all staring at her, like they knew that commanded respect. “I am Saturyne, the Ominversal Majestrix. For crimes against the Multiverse… you must be judged!”
“Shit, was it something I did?” Morph asked.
…
“AHHH” Greer Nelson yelled as she landed on her face, one heel gone and a run in her nylons from her arrival in whatever god forsaken place she had found herself in.
She picked herself up, dirt in her face from landing in what appeared to be a grassy, rolling hill. Considering the company she had kept lately this was probably some Multiverse nonsense. It took her a moment to look around, to hear the clomping of hooves coming at her.
“Halt intruder,” A knight in silver chainmail and black cloth said. “What sorcery has brought you and your horrid garb into thy kingdom.”
“Kingdom?” Greer asked.
“Of Otherworld, land of magic and wonder. Guarded by its valiant knights who save fair maidens. Which you, judging by your state, are not.”
“Fuck me,” Greer mumbled. It was going to be a long day.
NEXT: The Adventure Continues in Britons and Excalibur as the Trial of the Centurions Continues! But Be Back Here as Witnesses are Called, Truths are Revealed, and the Search for Tigra Begins!

...
"... My name is, "Avem," she wrote from the Room. I am writing this Letter, on, “bequest,” of a certain collection of books of, no doubt, charming character, that went missing from the Manor, here…” She ended her letter with a Loop.
…
'The, 'Black Diamond', "Hua Niu Apple," of Tibet', had been promised her.
By whom?
Oh, Robert. Her son had been over.
…
Avem had found a Key, and entitled herself to, “Another,” Room in the Old Manor, when she noticed about Thirty, “Latest Considerations,” she hadn’t been able to recognize, especially since her last time of having not been in there. About Half a Dozen Articles of Furniture, were now moved around, as well. The Manor had been turned over.
Robert had promised her, to be back when she had, “Dried Up… Sideways.”
Avem, literally thought he had promised her a, “Dried “Hopped Cider,” Aged.”
When she asked how long, he replied, “As Long As It Takes To Get Me Rich… Again.”
She had thought he had said, “A, “Bodacious,” Fake Wood, Gets, “Cheery,” When Aged… Depends.”
By now, she was pretty sure that she knew what he was referring to. Those were Trees of the Bonsai Variety.
But, where are you going off to, Avem asked him one Final Time, before he had left her at her Bottlenecked Apartment Door to head down the Manor’s stairwell.
“Lack! I'm Manned.”
...
Black Diamond? She uttered, unteemed. Who knew? It must be somewhere in the Himalayas.
He was likely off to somewhere Exotic.
If her son traveled out there and won one of those Beautiful Specimens in Bonsai form, he’d make a Back Diamond Cider.
But when would he hop it back on over? It had taken a while…
She licked what looked to be a Rare Chinese Stamp after Sealing an Envelope. Just then, she heard the Service Bell, Ring from Downstairs.
Is the Missus up? A “Holy,” of an Unholy Voice began.
It set her nerves on edge. Oh no, she frought. Think, think. Avem locked the door to the Library, returned to the Manor’s small upstairs kitchen, and hid her newfound Key, off to the side in an oatmeal canister. He was almost at her door.
Be your normal.
Anxious, she stuck the Sealed Envelope, hidden, under a Pink Satin Cushion. The very same Cushion, as was placed on her Chestnut Wood, Kitchen Sitting Chair.
She would have had to hide it in her Bedchamber, in a Split Second, were it not for how caught off guard she was.
Quickly, she sat down.
Hello missus Smith. Doctor Banda, required. Still in your nightgown, I see.
I only just awoke.
And none of the other staff saw to you today. You should have notified them you would be missing your morning Meals. They were having a Big Party down in The Mess Hall. I’ve brought you’re Medicine up, some Flowers from Mrs. Rookall, and have you seen if your son left me the Banknote. He looked around the counter.
A fearful thought occurred to Missus Smith. No, she swore, hoping to distract him from the Oats. It must be down in the Bureau.
Very well then. Doctor Banda decided. Alright, I’ll have the kitchen bring you up something. What would you like? Cabbage Stew, Wild Rice and Carrot Soup, Fish Broth, or Consomme and Noodle.
Too Drab, she bleakly lambed. What else have they got?
Compote.
That’ll do. May I take some tea with it?
Right then. It will be up shortly. Now remember, Missus Smith, take these Two Blue Ones, at Night, and we’ll be Leaving the White One for Half an Hour, because you’ve still got your Nyquil to take.
~ How would she ever sneak the Envelope out? ~
…
“Oh Grody, an imaginary voice declared. I’m alone and not only did I mal-doctor, myself, but I’m mal-sseused?”
Avem woke up. She thought she had heard a boy grumbling.
Nobody there.
I took the white one, but the tonic… she reminded herself. She quietly snuck out of the Room.
She had taken the Nyquil.
The White One had been a Citalopram, for Depression. She’d been on it for long enough to forget the Label, and even what it used for.
Avem had had a Sociable Game of Cards with a Magician named Tatter, later that evening. Followed up by Some Ladies laughing. The Kitchen Staff loved her.
She rested, upon getting back to her Quarters, about Half an Hour into it.
Placing the Envelope, Smartly behind her Headboard, she Locked Herself back in her Room and Retorted, I’ll be Over When This is All Done. Avem was Retiring for the Evening.
Avem was Infirm.
Avem’s Son, Had Totally Usurped Her. All, just to Seemingly Give an Unlucky Leap, and Click Heels Together, for Greed.
Two Blue Advil followed…
…
The following day, Missus Smith could be caught doing a dance maneuver down the Boulevard.
What is this jamboree? asked the visiting Cleric.
Avem Pumped an Elderly Fist. An Envelope had been Dunked into the Post Box. She had sent it, by getting past a Hallway, “Intercept.” About four men had come in moments before, to have a Quiet Meeting, or, Smoke and Drink, in the Parlor. A Dartboard, there, hung off the wall
The staff hustled her in. A fuss would be made! But later.
“Necrolith Spectre,” if you, "Envelope," our Earth, The Seal is a Dragon, Of Liu Songnian’s Worth. ~ China’s First Postage Stamp? ~
…
Law’s on ya’, Baby! Avem declared over the Phone to her Doctor. The Books had come back and Avem had earned some regained recognition and popularity among the attendants at, Her Manor?
Her son had sold them!
Rob Smith, had been brought in for a rather whimsically quizzical questioning by a Police Chief, who was only wondering how his Mother had been interesting him in such an illegal matter. How could it be serious, if she was senile?
No Mother in the questioning, and an hour later, and Mr. Smith was on his way to Prison for… Frauds?
Of what kind though?
They had yet to find out the extent of them. Many of, said frauds… were detailed by false accreditions to his name.
He’d been hiding from The Government.
Lucky Avem! She had her House back.
‘One’s Past Tears’.
"... Atlas-Epher, was a Titan, who held aloft the Heavens..."

• End of Statement. *

~ “… And now I KNOW, what El has written, the Old Cahoot…” ~
“… However, Atlas also kept a Tobacco Pipe..."
"... When Atlas-Epher first acquired the Pipe, the fire caught his Mustache, while Lighting it, and he Sneezed Out a Terrible, "Flaum."…”
“… The World, became Polluted, or shall we say, Populated, for the better part, with this, "Flaum."…”
“… Now, although we are unsure of when this was... The Pipe, was most definitely and erroneously, called, by none other than, "Eldritch Spellbound," a, ‘Nura-Bol’…”
“… Therefore, it should have, more rightly, been MINE!...”
…
Avem was smoking some Russian Jing Ling. Hah! She snorted as she read on in, “Her Books.”
She had thought they were Her Diaries.
No Avem, you Playwrote those as an aside, when you were a Nurse. That was when you first had this House Built, a Housekeeper told her.
Avem wouldn’t take that! Keep dusting, Ms. Henchfrew. She drawled.
…
“… It was on Earth, that People of Destiny were allowed to use the, "Muc." What is, "Muc," but, "Cigarettes," "Cigarette Butts," "Swine," and/or, "Snot?"…”
~ “… They Learned A Work, Called, "Giâm ("Make a Cutting on a Plant")."…” ~
“… Finally, a purportedly savvy, "Christian Bishop of Vietnam (a.k.a. "Giám Mục")," asked for help with? The Dreaming!…”
...
‘2747’.
‘And when you have that idol, not rightly ‘ffaced, chisel it out and pitch it away.’
“… And if thine eye offend thee, pluck it out: it is better for thee to enter into the kingdom of God with one eye, than having two eyes to be cast into hell fire…” (‘The Holy Bible’, ‘KJV’/’King James Version’, Mark 9:47).
Right here, what I think Jesus was saying was that, it’s better not to be a Scribe at all, in Egypt, when you know how they, “in’Tow.”
Andrei had felt pretty smart to say. Though it wasn’t soon after, he had his Books given away.
...
Ren was talking desperately off in a Side Hall of the Store, to Juniper about Andrei.
You mean I broke madly.
You are madly affectionate mi’lady, yess ahum.
What did She, “need,” for us again?
Well, a Hoo’Chin/Hoodoo’s China Cabinet, “Moc’a,” Two-In, Where Muc is a term we use for Cigarette Butts/Pork, Interchangeably, but Where Moacă is also Head, That's Siamese-Line Specifically, For the Porcelain we’ll require whenever we go, “back.”
I see… replied Ren, having attempted to repair her breakdown.
One, “Trung”/Asian, “Hit,” of Key-Put “Pow,” by Chéep’-Casas (i.e. Cook-Houses), still needs two, “C.” Nominally, A, “Credit Card,” intoned Juniper. Then, we Need to Tie Cowrie, which dubs our similar Shell Currency, to Chong/Brew, Cha/Tea, Lit/Leaf. All, because they’ve been taking our Reach, Unge,” Litter.
The Fee? Asked Ren.
Yes, replied Juniper, and those of our Ancestors.
What are they like, Ren enquired, Ungua Terror?
Yep, That’s the Rub.
What a snub. Ren sniveled. She held a Kleenex to her nose. How mad do you think Andrei is at me, though, and are we really, in fact, Catting a Swarm?
I think it’s okay to worry. My boyfriend is also not back from his trip to The Mountains, yet.
Was he supposed to get back?
Things’ll be fine, as long as he didn’t start an Ave’Launch…
Avem Smith, deluded enough to believe in her newfound last name, ‘The Swarm’, continued to read from her own Books, by now doctored, senile and half-forgetting they were “Playwritten.”
…
“… The Bishop had been told, that he would need at least, "One Dragon," to bribe, "Atlas-Epher," over, and, hopefully, win a working Dream.
Problem being, no Dragon had been in sight for Ages. Nor, "Atlas-Epher," and the Bishop had no, "Decent Pipe," nor, "Decent Tobacco..."
Ahem.
…
‘The Story Of, "Far-Mason," "Pathwrit," from the Agged Caravan Dig In Euclon’.
"... Patrick wrote on threin of parchment. He was working on one, for the Giam Muc/Bishop to Burn in his own pipe. Inevitably, for it to work. The Wind took it to a’tack.
One of the other Stone-Masons had hit the delicate line of phantom paper, as a draped cloth blew in his face. Oof. He had been standing on a wobbly ladder, working on the roof. The pictures had been posted around, and Patrick had been moved there with his supplies. The thin single lettered threins of Parchment, loosed. Patrick had been working on, well… a lot of them. This one, was a Sacred Arabian Majin Binding. His hand had slipped, and an, “un-ending, “ream,” of paper, flaxed outward against the walls, in a billow. Climbing off the ladder, the man went to tell the others outside, about the mess.
Oh well…
The script, “wrapping,” clung outward at the walls. Patrick tried to hold down one end, and it caught a candle. The script sparked.
An Oriental feng-huanged/phoenixed burst of violet plumous smoke appeared and swirled around the chamber. Patrick panicked, fell backward, and the building collapsed..."
‘The Book of the, "Ho-Do”’. 'Sheer Luck, a Knack, and a Claus'.
"... How Lucky is Man, is as, "How the Betterment of the Saviour is on all Heirs', "proverbial," "Mint." That is, in how it is the, "Coin"/"Quoin (i.e. "Cornerstone, that the Builders rejected")…”
What does this mean?
“… Simply, that we are encouraged to realize, that, "Mint," and, "Shamrocks," relate, and that there are two types of Clover, and only one is His (i.e. Christ's). In life, we choose either, "Caesar's Shamrock," with, "Caesar's Coin," or, "God's Clover," with an, "Heir's Salvation," through Christ Jesus…”
“… This, tells of Luck, something valuable, which is, "That luck is such, that you should never wish to need it; only pray to do good..."
~ Forevermore, that is, "Amen ("Truth"/"Trustworthy" - Revelation 3:14)," in Heaven, for Eternity. ~
…
“… Before we go any further now, "Iapetos," was a Titan of Mortality, "Atlas-Epher," his Son, was a Titan of Strength. Now, as, "Iapetos," was replaced by, "Gepetto," in the tale of, "Pinocchio," and his son, "Pinocchio," made up to mean, "Panache," the character of, "Pinocchio," himself, must have still somehow made his way around to that of, "Atlas-Epher," again…”
“… What could that possibly mean, if, "Yggdrasil," is also the newfound symbol of Atlas-Epher? This tree, Yggdrasil, similar to the, "Biblical Tree of Everlasting Life," for some, and it, also, being Christ's very, "Own," Tree?...”
“… Well, it's hard to get into, but it is said that it fed two children, a boy and a girl, named, "Lif," and, "Lifthrasir," with it's Dew. Though I speculate, if Ashen... Truly with, "Dhewh." All, while hiding them and protecting them from calamity. That is, if and only if, a, "Sig," were a, "Fig (or, "Apple")," as it is, in Cursive Writing…”
…
‘The Puff’. ~ “… Figaro – Bolero – Mambobola – Bluff…” ~
“… Now, if Pinocchio, is the effigy of a strange, Satanic Puppet-Mastery, he’s known for his nose growing longer, whenever he tells a lie. He is a, "Living Incarnate Doll," not a mortal child, but a, "Knack!"…”
…
“… Pinnochio takes on the life of a Mortal Child, later on in his story, by a Spirit Booning him, thus...”
“… I daresay it's possible, however, like Epher, who hides his True face, behind a mask of Ashes to Deceive people, as it were, through a, "Masquerade," of Intentions, Pinocchio has no trouble lying…”
“… Thus, when you conceal the matter, or mask your intentions, it could be asked, who's side are you really on? The Lord's, or your own?...”
“… A Sabbath analogy of Pinocchio, would say that he is, none other than a, "Beast of Burden. Specifically, though? A Camel. Of course, and mainly, because, their noses still get ringed on the Sabbath, even the males…”
“… Seeing as, "Pinocchio’s," name derives from the word, "Panache (ultimately, "Spur")," we are left to wonder if he is a, "Spurred Camel," of some sort, but this really is not too far from the Telling. As, it is within the realm of another word, "Spurcamus," or further still, "Spurcam," "Spurcus," "or even, "Spurious," "Sperno," or, "Spargo (i.e. "Spargere")," which he is most often witnessed. That is, until his Transformation, into a, "Real Boy."…”
~ “… Example in case of, "Spargere," within, 'Pinocchio', being…” ~
A. "Burglary"/"Housebreaking," when he steals a wig from, "Gepetto (Hebrew Name, "Joseph")," and, B. "Rumorem Spargere," or, "Spreading Rumours..." When he misleads by falsity."
“… Now, when Claus makes a toy, it is in the Woodwork, as we all know, but as we have previously sought to understand, some Wood is Alive, some Wood is Dead, and some takes on New Life.
Thus... As for the, "Wood," of, "Yggdrasil," we'll leave it at that for now…”
But why does Santa always have Ash and Ice? ... Do NOT even mention it!..."
*STORY PLOT:
A Black Magic Deal, had been dealt in, by a kindly old man, to a novice in his service. The question being, what good did it pose, for anyone in the realm of Hallelujah?
The Weapon of Smoke...
What are the odds? What will this young man be battling, and what's happening with the times?
…
Firstly, sacrifices being made of the cherished good of olden, for hierarchical precalls of evil.
The dawning of the next age. Hence, it is a, "Keep the Light," story.
It is to be rated, as a tale of smoking, for readers in an age when smoking is prohibited and one can only dream (2035 and on).
Andrew, the author, squares off demons in a fictional literature, and has it out with new, "precedential," sciences for being too dangerous.
Example: • Alchemy was bad, chemistry is good - we know this, one is founded. • Astrology was bad, astronomy is good - we also know this, one is founded. • Biology was good, but trans genetics is always bad.
Transgenetics uses chemistry in biology, deigning it forbidden. But how?
Working on the DNA, and treating humans with a, "Philosopher's Stone," destroys God's Sanctum or Temple. No Temple of God requires a No-Man, on an Earth meant for God's Providence.
More by the Mundi is only Mund in the Mordem if you can't fit Heaven in, as Kneelers still came first, and Kneiters (Titans), take too much from Heaven, for their last just desserts, of being too big and overall many. Men of God, uphold Gods temple, which upholds service for Heaven, which in turn blesses Nature, even though, God, "may," not.
Falling Men to Spirits of Nature, buys out the price of Man, and Good in the World, for the old Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, even post Babylon.
Spirits selling these secrets, leave Devil's in the details, as nought can then prevent Jinn from engulfing the richness of people's souls when the people's bodies become made by none better than a jinn writ and remaining human strains prove only yoke.
If the Scripture untethers from the People, God still Stands, and the World Clock will only mete, in waves, where the carn is as a, "jern ("iron"/"yarn")," and knit and crochet, just won’t fit, for the, "favoured fabric," anymore.
In mankind, witchcraft, sorcery and diabols unspeakable, are real.
Andrew speaks out, because if man is a slave to a spirit of a design unheiring, no other temple serves God.
...
Moral: Heaven has Refined Ideals, Where, Titans Thresh All's Karmic Wheels. The Djinni, as such, sound a Din, But, Jesus had His Supper in. As Many Giants, leave the Earth, Remember He who, “partied,” First. Creator’s Heaven has a Gate, But The Three, "Fates," wove a Temp, “Late.”
(i.e. The, "Moirae" lost all their eyes but for one of Apher's).
‘The Book Of Right’.
'Route, "Capernaum"'.
"Lucifer," was born to, "Cephalus." "Cephalus'," name, means, "Head."
"Cephalus'," name implies, that not only is he a Male Figure as the Head of a Family, but none other than an, "Halus," which means, "Invisible," "Refined," and/or, a, "Spirit," if not a Head of, "-lus," (indicating some form of, "Plant").
*A, "Head," is commonly referred to, nowadays, by the word, "Cap."
"Cephalus," may be transliterated, "Képhalos," and after that, "Kephalē," or even, "Keblē."
It could be quite easy to assume, that omitting the vocal fricatives, at the beginning of the word, "Keblē," led someone to create the name, "Iblis," for, "Lucifer," or, "Lucifer's Head."
We know that, "Satan," was erroneously replaced by, "Lucifer," in the, 'Vulgate Translation', of the, 'Hebrew Bible', but more than likely, because he still bore some characteristics of the, "Devil."
As a separate analogy in point, however, there is, "Lu," 'Capernaum', or, "Route of, 'Capernaum'," which is also known as, 'Beit Netofa'.
The, "Route," "Jesus of Nazareth," walked through from, 'Gaza', is known for housing some of, "David's," finest men, though also, being cursed by, "Jesus," in Scripture. It's meaning of, "Netophah," or, "Taphath (Simply, "A Dripping")," is likely where Lucifer gets his name of, "Rain Light."
This is, due to the Valley of, 'Capernaum', and it's literal, "Capernaum," which means, "Ruin and Clutter," though it is still to, "Bear Light," and implicates the Saviour's Walk there.
Therefore, "Light Bearing," becomes more alike to a, "Valley"/"Place Name," not only, "A Candle." If what we know about the, "Trail," or, "Lu," is that it bore, "Jesus Christ"/"The Saviour," in his travels, then, "Lūx Ferō," or, "Light Bearer," and, "Rain Light," themselves, become symbolic of none other than The Valley Christ walked, and Christ's Wounds."
Ben got hit in the head, down at the Prefecture, and the Centaurs were going to haul him out and feed him to the Amphibe-colts, but instead, a man named Era, sent for his body and turned him over to Fang Vo Ejje for an Essential Essence Dedaction.
She was paid by Era, who then mixed Ben’s Essence in with some Grotto Clay and Fanged Stone Dentures.
Leaving him alone in a Grotto, he would pay Ben a visit, oh… well, sometime later. Ben had to have time and space, to get used to his rebirth. Also Era would bring gifts. He treated him, as though, a son.
Era was a, “Vampire,” Physician.
‘Neth.
…
Vampires, have been found to exist in many types, whether ætheric, carnal, mantic, neth, psychic, or sanguine.
• Ætheric Vampires Prey on Spirit, • Carnal Vampires Lust after Fleshly or Worldly Concerns, • Mantic Vampires are attracted to Channels, Rapports, or Halls of the Dead, as Spirits, • Neth/Nest, Live In/Off The Host, as Brooding Parasites, • Psychic/Para-Psychic Vampires, are Mental Taxers by Extremity, • And Sanguine, are those, which Prey on or Deal only with Actual Blood.
Meanwhile, their affiliations as Romantic, Caste, or merely Cultural, have rarely been? Christian, no matter ow Christ-Centric.
…
The symbology of the Vampire, while not to be dismissed as another Legend, or confused with mere Myth, is really a Coded Message.
While it does its best to remain hidden, the Truth of the Vampire actually exists in a Christian Allegory. Here, I will provide a brief exposé on it.
This introspective Label into their realm of the Dissonant, is provided to fit, as per Canon Address.
…
Firstly, the creature most frequently associated with the Vampire, is the Bat.
The reason why, is because, the Bat indicates a suspended or inverted view of reality. Also, because they are creatures of the dark, with nocturnal habits.
…
While wild penchants feature among the detailing of Vampire History, there is little about them that we don’t have, already known.
That is, unless one of us has them in, for the realm of how we would be in for that know. Then, things tend to play out that way.
That said, The World is for The Vampire, and The Vampire, not for Heaven.
…
‘Symbology’.
The Vampire's own avoidance of this World, pertains to a few minor points. Although, they are hunters and stalkers after the rights of men, women, and children, there are select items they avoid, each with it’s own Attributive Symbology.
…
The Christian Holy Bible, of course, as The True Word of God.
The Crucifix, as the symbol of Christ’s ransoming sacrifice on Calvary.
Daylight, for it’s representing The Light of the Sovereign.
The use of, “Holy Water,” is a symbol of Baptism and Making Clean and New.
Stakes, which symbolize the Softening of Hardened Hearts.
Nails, symbolizing Christ’s being nailed to the Tree.
And, Garlic, as a symbol of warding off the Evil Eye.
All these, being symbols of the Faith.
…
‘The Policy’.
“Decapitation,” where used in Vampire Lore, represents keeping one's own mind above material matters.
The Pouring out of Rice, as Author Anne Rice’s name would seem to imply, was a folk practice intended to keep Vampires at bay, in truth suggesting that they were more calculating than considerate of their hearts, because they would stop to count it out of compulsion.
“Burning with Fire,” meant setting afire with Holy Passion.
No Reflection in Mirrors, was due to their having no Light Of The Sovereign.
Their habit of, “Laying in a Coffin,” was because the Coffin is a place of rest for the Dead and Vampires were not allowed through Anyone’s Doorways, but for when they were Welcomed In. In the Land of the Living, Death Rests, except for when Death Knocks. If Death Knocks, which they are, they might then open up a Coffin Door by a Rapport.
However, as they too, are not altogether Immortal, thus the Coffin represents anyone resting under God’s label of, “The Dead,” respecting ties to the Supernatural, as the, “Undead.”
…
Drinking and Bloodshed, or what more, Drinking of Shed Blood, was the Practice of Pagans of The Old World.
These Pagans (Canaanites), were labeled as Dogs.
Hence, depictions of People with Dog-Shaped Heads, began to become more Prevalent, even with Larger Canine Teeth. The Medical Condition for someone with a Dog-Shaped Head, is known today as, “Cynocephaly.”
In hastily moving along with this Label, one might attribute that trait of Lycans or Werewolves, to Vampires or Leeches, as well, but there IS still a difference. Although, a Canaanite was simply an UnJew.
…
In respect to The Pagan Shedding of Life Blood for Consumption, while meriting the Judaical Teachings (in light of this), Jewish Tradition held, that to avoid Blood Consumption, meant that, when a God of Promise Saves you from Bloodshed your Sacred Teaching becomes to Revere Life and Not Take It for Granted.
Thus, it was said that our Life, Or rather Spirit or Soul, existed in the Blood, because the Jews who lived through the Plagues during the Passover in Egypt, were saved from having the lives of their firstborn taken, by marking their doorways with the Blood of a Lamb.
This, being not known to everyone (for some people believe that the Jews were never enslaved), due to Gold being found on-site at the Archaeological Digs, in Egypt.
Though, it must actually be read in on, that the Holy Bible (Exodus 12:35-6), says that the Egyptians offered it to them, sometimes more than graciously (out of God Fear), during The Time of the Plagues.
…
Now, in Judaical Tradition, Blood is not to be ingested, even apart from the above reasoning, because of the Health Complications it can cause.
Problems such as excess Iron Content in the Blood, Blood Disease, and Obesity, may also occur, because of it.
Vampiric Flying, is an example of the Proud Nature taking over, for they Fly as one does in Heated Anger, or in Contempt, aiming to set things in Disarray or to Destroy.
Other evidences, which they are known to make their own example of Flying by, when not by the Dead, are as though Witches, and the Flying thereof, for many a Vampire has been known to fall to Alchemy, and Ensorcerizing.
…
As Spiritually-Relative Christian sensibilities, these points seem mere figurative notions, but their opposites are never to be taken as literally or seriously, for they lead to wayward acts aberrant to God strategy, even as though, in one’s staking on them, they too might be…
A Vampire!

https://images.app.goo.gl/i4UBPT1k9TTumKZA8
Is this Lindsay pregnant with her youngest? If so, this looks toward end of pregnancy, and she looks so happy and healthy.
Has anyone come across info as to how soon after Callan's birth she reported feeling anxious/depressed?
She may have been someone who loved being pregnant - some women report feeling euphoria during pregnancy and enjoy the spotlight - which compelled her to want a large family. In her journal, after baby Callan birth, as well as on one of her wish papers she kept in a dresser drawer, she wrote she wished for more children.
So that would mean a lot changed in a very short time.

To Selena, with Love
Intro and Chapter 1
​
To Selena, with Love
Intro and Chapter 1 Holding Hands over Mexico
( I don’t have my English copy with me at the moment, so I might have used the wrong phrasing in some parts).
After having spent some time watching some recent interviews with Chris Perez the meaning and purpose of this book became more apparent. He never really could mourn in his own and also faced difficulty finding and defining himself aside from or connected to his relationship with Selena. Unlike her family, he was in sort of limbo. Obviously, he couldn’t remain her widower forever, but he also couldn’t escape the allure their unfinished story had and has for her fans.
He begins his side of the story at the end of theirs, reminiscing about the property they had bought with the intention of starting a family.
My first memory of Selena was from a talk show she did in Spanish where she talked about having gotten married because she wanted a family, aside from being in love, of course. For me it was funny because in her quest to learn and speak Spanish properly, she even translated her husband’s name from Christopher, to Cristobal. I got a kick of the way she pronounced “esPOso” . She said with such joy and gusto.
My first question regarding the book was why it had taken so long for Chris to write it. I guess he wasn’t ready. Aside from this album, which is probably not the format to get into detail, he buried much of his memories without thinking about they could and should shape his life onward. After talking about the sadness and pain of facing those memories, he goes into all the rumors that circulated after her death. He loses his wife and has to live with rumors about her having a secret, a lover, or event that their marriage might have been over. It’s just cruel, and to to think that gossip and entertainment journalism has only gotten worse.
The first touching part this time around was when his friend Carlos told him that in his dream, Selena told him that she watched over Chris. This is a story about what he lived, and what he knows.
Ch. 1
Their childhoods were different, with Chris’ appearing a bit more normal to me. He knew a life outside of playing music as a young adult.
He noticed Selena’s charms and talent instantly, but as musician, it was AB whom he found more intriguing at the beginning. He credits AB with making Tejano music sound more modern by ditching the according and incorporating the synthesizer. He was a good producer and arranger, and Selena’s ability to emote the lyrics made the Dinos groovy and soulful.
He made the right choice in leaving Shely Lares’ band and also the rock band he formed with his friends. She remains unknown, and even with Chris having the chance to co-write songs, her goal was more or less to sound like Selena, even covering her songs. Selena y los Dinos led to growth as a musician and guaranteed a more stable income by playing with a band that was on the rise due to Selena’s ability engage the audience so well. He was surprised to know that the young Quintanilla was just as impressed with him when he asked her to be the new guitarist.
It would be a year before he and Selena started to notice each other as other than colleagues. It was bound to happen. They spent a lot time together in the band, and it was just a matter of time, despite having a girlfriend back in San Antonio. Oh Chris, you sly dog. He is honest about Selena’s attractiveness, and charm. She liked calling his attention, and he made her work for it. Oh to be a sparkplug, or something and talk to Big Bertha like they do in Star Wars with the Millennium Falcon. That bus has some stories. You can almost feel the pride he feels when he catches Selena checking him out too in the trip the band takes to Acapulco. It follow that Selena would make the first move towards their romance. Chris is shy, and also cautious, or more like terrified, of being unprofessional and also getting on the Old Quintanilla’s bad side.
To be honest, Selena’s origin story as told in the movie, and in Chris’ book, makes me uncomfortable. She was indeed talented; no one who doesn’t enjoy something can do it as well as her and Jackson kids, for instance. Selena was nine when she started playing with her sibling at the family restaurant in a band the bore the name of his father’s failed one from his youth. The economy was in a shambles, I don’t understand Abraham Quintanilla’s shame about food stamps. He had other jobs with family members. His strict work ethic applied to a band of teenagers must have felt tyrannical, even more with the weight knowing they were part of the household income.
Random points:
I wonder why Shely Lares, Latin Breed Mazz and Laura Canales didn’t get more exposure. Or why Q Productions didn’t take on the opportunity to promote them. Thoughts?
Everyone please share your insights from your reading this week.

I've seen many interpretations of Austria's entry this year. Mainly about the struggles of being an artist, about gender and sexism, about artists being broke in the music industry. Hence the focus on the 0.003 lyric (referencing Spotify earnings) and "gas station champagne is on me."
I think all of those are true, for the record. But I'm also like... maybe i've just missed it, why is no one talking about the ghostwriting angle? Like its right there. Edgar Allan Poe is a writer. Whos last name is poe. Ghost. A writer who possesses people in the song. A ghost... writer. "There's a ghost in my body and he is a lyricist."
"Theres a ghost in my body (...) and its gonna make me rich." It sounds like the POV of an artist who is exploiting a ghostwriter - the artist is credited as a good writer, but has to admit, its not me writing. Its this Edgar who nobodys heard of and doesn't get any credit. To me, the most obvious interpretation is about the exploitation of ghostwriters who work hard but reap none of the credit.
The song can also be surprisingly mean-spirited about the artist exploiting a ghostwriter. "Yeah, the words are spilling out, what the heck is this about?" The pop singer sings the song but doesn't actually understand it. They just see a "hit" song and want to be rich.
Okay so. That leaves one question. Other than the pun (a writer whose last name is "Poe"), why is it about Edgar Allan Poe? After all, he's famous. One of the most famous writers ever. I mean it is called "who the hell is Edgar?" and they do ask the question.
So I guess the way I square those two things is its kinda like what if EAP was alive today, and he had to do ghostwriting for some content mill or whatever to get by? Like he's extremely talented, but hes not famous so he doesn't get any credit and he's broke. He's doomed by modern times to be someone else's ghostwriter: Super talented, but exploited and poor. "Who the hell is Edgar?" Nobody knows, nobody cares. He's just there to make someone else rich.
To me, this is the most "complete" interpretation of the lyrics because it doesn't just focus on the struggle of the artist, but also of ghostwriters behind the artist. It also connected well with me because my girlfriend is a ghostwriter who is very poorly paid for her talents. So I just wanted to share how I see the lyrics personally :)

CHAPTER 2
“Where There Is Nothing, Read That I Love You”
​
When an atheist philosopher writes about religion, she should take great care to resist the temptation formulated long ago by Rousseau: “By accusing me of being religious you excuse yourself for being a philosopher; it is as if I were to renounce wine when it would make you drunk.” This temptation is at its most seductive when a philosopher encounters cases which reveal the obscene disavowed underside of a religious edifice, as is the case with The Gathering (2003), a modest but interesting horror film set in the English countryside. The remains of an old Christian church are discovered buried beneath the earth, revealing stone statues and reliefs of the suffering Christ and a heterogeneous group of individuals observing him dying. It takes the local clergy and archaeologists some time to get the point: the sculpture is not about Christ (who is, strangely, shown from behind) but about those who came to see him die. A priest from the local church links the sculpture to the words allegedly written by St. Aristobulus (a first‐century bishop) about “those who came to watch”: “From the east and the west they came, from the city and the plain. Not in holy reverence to our Lord, but in lust.” At the same time, the film shows us people wandering around the city whose faces strangely resemble those on the statues, and, furthermore, a researcher finds the same faces on many depictions of the crucifixion from the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. The conclusion is clear: those who came to the crucifixion not to mourn or worship, but for entertainment or out of mere curiosity, were cursed to walk the Earth immortal and bear witness to the suffering of men—as in the case of the Wandering Jew, immortality is here not a blessing but a curse <“In Soviet Russia plan makes you!/ In Soviet Russia you laugh at God and we see how that turned out”>. (Recall that Hamlet’s father also returns as a ghost because he was murdered in the full flower of his sins.) The movie then takes a predictable turn: the immortal witnesses are gathering in the city because they have a premonition that something terrible is about to happen there.
A CHRISTIAN TRAGEDY?
There is a deeper question that has to be raised here: is there not always a moment of lust (Freud called it Schaulust) in witnessing a traumatic event like a crucifixion? And does not the claim that we come to watch out of compassion and respect make it even (hypocritically) worse? Such a perverse logic was brought to its peak by Nicolas Malebranche, for whom, in the same way that the saintly person uses the suffering of others to bring about his own narcissistic satisfaction in helping those in distress, God also ultimately loves only himself, and merely uses man to promulgate his own glory. Malebranche here draws a consequence worthy of Lacan’s reversal of Dostoyevsky (“If God doesn’t exist, then nothing is permitted”): it is not true that, had Christ not come to Earth to deliver humanity, everyone would have been lost—quite the contrary, nobody would have been lost; in other words, every human being had to fall so that Christ could come and deliver some of them. Malebranche’s conclusion is here properly perverse: since the death of Christ is a key step in realizing the goal of creation, at no time was God (the Father) happier then when he was observing his Son suffering and dying on the Cross.
Is this perversion inscribed into the very core of Christianity, or can the Christian edifice be read in a different way? And if so, is this path opened up by the specifically Christian notion of love? The wager of properly Christian love is to demonstrate to the Other (God) that it exists by way of loving it unconditionally, beyond the Good; in this way, the anxiety and incertitude over the Other’s desire is “sublated” in the act of love . François Balmès draws attention here to the parallel with Descartes’s cogito and its doubt: In the same way that the incertitude of radical doubt turns into the certitude of cogito ergo sum, the incertitude over God’s desire/will, taken to the extreme, turns into the certitude of love, regardless of my exposure to damnation. This extreme form of ecstatic love is to be radically opposed to (Ancient) tragedy: in pure love, I freely consent to my own damnation or disappearance, I ecstatically assume it, while in tragedy, I (also) accept my Fate, but I accept it as an external force without consenting to it—the tragic hero rejects it absolutely, protesting against it to the end (Oedipus at Colonus—the case of Antigone is here more ambiguous). In other words, in contrast to the notion of amor fati, there is no love in the tragic hero’s acceptance of his damnation by Fate. Therein resides the tragic hero’s uncompromising fidelity to his desire: not in the acceptance of Fate, but in holding on to his desire against Fate, in a situation where everything is lost.
Is there, then, no properly Christian tragedy? Here, Antigone is to be opposed to Sygne de Coûfontaine from Paul Claudel’s L’Otage: if Oedipus and Antigone are the exemplary cases of Ancient tragedy, Sygne stands for the Christian tragedy. Sygne lives in the modern world where God is dead: there is no objective Fate, our fate is our own choice, we are fully responsible for it. Sygne first follows the path of ecstatic love to the end, sacrificing her good, her ethical substance for God, for his pure Otherness; and she does it not on account of some external pressure, but out of the innermost freedom of her being—hence she cannot blame Fate when she finds herself totally humiliated, deprived of all ethical substance. This, however, is why her tragedy is much more radical than that of either Oedipus or Antigone: when, mortally wounded after taking the bullet meant for her despicable and hated husband, she refuses to confer any deeper sacrificial meaning on her suicidal intervention, there is no tragic beauty in this refusal—her “No” is signaled merely by a repellent grimace, a compulsive facial tic. There is no tragic beauty because her total sacrifice has deprived her of all inner beauty and ethical grandeur, so that all that remains is a disgusting excremental stain, a living shell deprived of life. There is no love here either; all her love was consumed in her previous renunciations. In a way, Sygne is here crucified, her “No” akin to Christ’s “Father, why have you forsaken me?”—which is also a gesture of defiance, a kind of “Up yours!” directed at the God‐Father. Balmès is right to point out that this properly Christian “No” in all its forms is the “unthinkable” traumatic core of pure love, a scandal which undermines it from within. Here is his breathtakingly precise formulation: The unthinkable in pure love is, in a sense, Christianity itself, the scandal of the Cross, the Passion and the death of Christ, the “Why did you abandon me?” from the psalm taken over by Christ and on which the mystics of pure love conferred a radicality intolerable for the Church.
This moment of tragedy, this return of the tragic at the very heart of Christianity as the religion of love, is also the point which the self‐erasing mysticism of ecstatic love cannot properly grasp: when mystics talk about the “Night of the World,” they directly identify this Night (the withdrawal from external reality into the void of pure innerness) with the divine Beatitude, with the self‐erasing immersion into Divinity; for Christianity, in contrast, the unbearable and unsurpassable tension remains, there is an ex‐timate “No” at the very heart of the loving “Yes>” to it all. This “No” has nothing to do with the imaginary logic of hainamoration, the reversal of narcissistic love into hatred.
Claudel himself found Sygne’s refusal of reconciliation with Turelure at the end of L’Otage mysterious: it imposed itself on him while he was writing the drama, since it was not part of the original plan (first, he intended the marriage of Sygne and Turelure to mark the reconciliation of the ancien régime and the new regime in the Restoration; later, he planned to have Badillon convince the dying Sygne to give the demanded sign of pardon and reconciliation to Turelure). Significantly, most critics perceived Sygne’s refusal as a mark not of her radicality but of her failure to follow through with the sacrifice demanded of her, that is, to give her full consent to marriage with the despicable Turelure. The idea is that, by refusing to give any sign of consent and dying in ice‐cold silence, Sygne disavows the religious principles which had hitherto dictated her behavior. As Abel Hermant wrote: Turelure tries to extract from Sygne a word, a sign of pardon, which would be for him the sign that he has definitely conquered her and reached the end of his ambitions. But Sygne refuses this pardon, on which nonetheless her eternal salvation seems to depend. She thus renders all her sacrifices worthless in the last minute.
Claudel feebly protested such readings: “I believe she is saved,” but conceded that the meaning of her final act was not clear even to him: “At the play’s end, the characters escape all psychological investigation: at the human level, Sygne of course refused to fulfill her sacrifice; we do not know any more about it, and the author himself can only ‘suppose’ a meaning for her final gesture.”
In “The Ancient Tragical Motif as Reflected in the Modern,” a chapter of Volume I of EitheOr, Kierkegaard proposed his fantasy of what a modern Antigone would have been. The conflict is now entirely internalized: there is no longer a need for Creon. While Antigone admires and loves her father Oedipus, the public hero and savior of Thebes, she knows the truth about him (his murder of the father, his incestuous marriage). Her deadlock is that she is prevented from sharing this accursed knowledge (like Abraham, who likewise could not communicate to others the divine injunction to sacrifice his son): she cannot complain, or share her pain and sorrow with others. In contrast to Sophocles’s Antigone, who acts (to bury her brother and thus actively assume her fate), she is unable to act, condemned forever to impassive suffering. The unbearable burden of her secret, of her destructive agalma, finally drives her to death, in which alone she finds the peace that would otherwise have come with symbolizing or sharing her pain and sorrow. Kierkegaard’s point is that this situation is no longer properly tragic (again, in a similar way, Abraham is also not a tragic figure).
We can imagine the same shift also in the case of Abraham. The God who commands him to sacrifice his son is the superego‐God, the perverse “version of the father,” the God who, for his own pleasure, submits his servant to the ultimate test. What makes Abraham’s situation non‐tragic is that God’s demand cannot be made public, shared with the community of believers, included in the big Other, unlike the sublime tragic moment which occurs precisely when the hero addresses the public with his terrible plight, when he puts his predicament into words. To put it succinctly, the demand addressed to Abraham has a status similar to that of a ruler’s “dirty secret” when solicited to commit a crime which the State needs, but which cannot be admitted publicly. When, in the fall of 1586, Queen Elizabeth I was under pressure from her ministers to agree to the execution of Mary Stuart, she replied to their petition with the famous “answer without an answer”: “If I should say I would not do what you request, I might say perhaps more than I think. And if I should say I would do it, I might plunge myself into peril, whom you labor to preserve.” The message was clear: she was not ready to say that she did not want Mary executed, since this would be “more than I think”; but while she clearly wanted her dead, she did not want to affirm this act of judicial murder publicly. The implicit message is thus also clear: “If you are my true and faithful servants, do this crime for me, kill her without making me responsible for her death, allow me to protest my ignorance and even punish some of you to maintain this false appearance …” Can we not imagine God himself giving a similar answer were Abraham to ask him publicly, in front of his fellow elders, if he really wanted him to kill his only son? “If I should say I do not want you to kill Isaac I might say perhaps more than I think. And if I should say you should do it, I might plunge myself into peril (that of appearing to be an evil barbaric God, asking you to violate my own sacred Laws), from which you, my faithful follower, labor to save me.”
Furthermore, insofar as Kierkegaard’s Antigone is a paradigmatically modernist figure, we can extend his mental experiment and imagine a postmodern Antigone, with a Stalinist twist: in contrast to the modernist one, she would find herself in a position in which, to quote Kierkegaard himself, the ethical itself would be the temptation. One version would undoubtedly be for Antigone to publicly renounce, denounce, and accuse her father (or, in a different version, her brother Polynices) of his terrible sins out of her unconditional love for him. The Kierkegaardian catch is that such a public act would render Antigone even more isolated, absolutely alone: no one—with the exception of Oedipus himself, were he still alive—would understand that her act of betrayal is the supreme act of love … Is this predicament of the “postmodern” Antigone not also that of Judas, who was secretly enjoined by Christ to publicly betray him and pay the full price for it?
Antigone would thus be entirely deprived of her sublime beauty—all that would signal the fact that she was not a pure and simple traitor to her father, but that she acted out of love for him, would be some barely perceptible repulsive tic, like Sygne de Coûfontaine’s hysteric twitch of the lips, a tic which no longer belongs to the face, but whose insistence disintegrates the unity of a face. Can we not imagine a similar tic on Judas’s face—a desperate twitch of his lips signaling the terrible burden of his role? Far from just throwing herself into the jaws of death, possessed by a strange wish to die or to disappear, Sophocles’s Antigone insists up to her death on performing a precise symbolic gesture: the proper burial of her brother. Like Hamlet, Antigone is a drama of a failed symbolic ritual—Lacan insisted on this continuity (he had analyzed Hamlet in the seminar that preceded The Ethics of Psychoanalysis, which deals with Antigone). Antigone does not stand for some extra‐symbolic real, but for the pure signifier—her “purity” is that of a signifier. This is why, although her act is suicidal, the stakes are symbolic: her passion is the death drive at its purest—but here, precisely, we should distinguish between the Freudian death drive and the Oriental nirvana. What makes Antigone a pure agent of the death drive is her unconditional demand for the symbolic ritual to be performed, an insistence which allows for no displacement or other form of compromise—this is why Lacan’s formula of drive is $‐D: the subject unconditionally insisting on a symbolic demand.
The problem with Antigone is not the suicidal purity of her death drive but, quite the opposite, that the monstrosity of her act is covered up by its aestheticization: the moment she is excluded from the community of humans, she turns into a sublime apparition evoking our sympathy by complaining about her plight. This is one of the key dimensions of Lacan’s move from Antigone to Sygne de Coûfontaine: there is no sublime beauty in Sygne at the play’s end—all that marks her as different from common mortals is the tic that momentarily disfigures her face. This feature which spoils the harmony of her beautiful face, the detail that sticks out and renders it ugly, is the material trace of her resistance to being co‐opted into the universe of symbolic debt and guilt.
This, then, should be the first step in a consistent reading of Christianity: the dying Christ is on the side of Sygne, not of Antigone; Christ on the Cross is not a sublime apparition but an embarrassing monstrosity. Another aspect of this monstrosity was clearly perceived by Rembrandt, whose “Lazarus,” one of the most traumatic classic paintings, depicts Christ in the act of raising Lazarus from the dead. What is striking is not only the portrayal of Lazarus, a monstrous living‐dead figure returning to life, but, even more so, the terrified expression on Christ’s face, as if he were a magician shocked that his spell has actually worked, disgusted by what he has brought back to life, aware that he is playing with forces better left alone. This is a true Kierkegaardian Christ, shocked not by his mortality but by the heavy burden of his supernatural powers which border on blasphemy, the blasphemy at work in every good biography: “Biography is in fact one of the occult arts. It uses scientific means—documentation, analysis, inquiry—to achieve a hermetic end: the transformation of base material into gold. Its final intention is the most ambitious and blasphemous of all—to bring back a human being to life.” The death of God, as is well known, can be experienced in a plurality of modes: as a tragic loss generating a deep melancholy; as a joyful opening into a new freedom; as a simple fact to be coldly analyzed … But in its most radical dimension, the death of God is strictly correlative to—is the other side of—the immortalization of the body signaled by “Christ is not dead”: there is something in the human body which is more than a human body, an obscene undead partial object which is more in the body than this body itself. To explain this paradox, let me cite “Joe Hill,” the famous Wobblies song from 1925 (words by Alfred Hayes, music by Earl Robinson) about the judicial murder of Hill, a Swedish‐born trade union organizer and singer. In the following decades, it became a true folk song, popularized around the world by Paul Robeson; here are the (slightly shortened) lyrics which present in a simple but effective way the Christological aspect of the emancipatory collective, a struggling collective bound by love:
I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night
Alive as you or me.
Says I, “But Joe, you’re ten years dead.”
“I never died,” says he.
“The copper bosses killed you, Joe, They shot you, Joe,” says I.
“Takes more than guns to kill a man.” Says Joe,
“I didn’t die.”
And standing there as big as life,
And smiling with his eyes,
Joe says, “What they forgot to kill
Went on to organize.”
“Joe Hill ain’t dead,” he says to me,
“Joe Hill ain’t never died.
Where working men are out on strike,
Joe Hill is at their side.”
Crucial here is the subjective reversal: the mistake of the anonymous narrator who does not believe that Joe Hill is still alive is that he forgets to include himself, his own subjective position, in the series: Joe Hill is not alive “out there,” as a separate ghost; he is alive here, in the very minds of the workers remembering him and continuing his fight—he is alive in the very gaze which (mistakenly) looks for him out there. The same mistake of “reifying” the searched‐for object is made by Christ’s disciples, a mistake which Christ corrects with the famous words: “Where two or three are gathered in my name, I will be there.”
​
<…
“Were the eye not of the sun, How could we behold the light? If God’s might and ours were not as one, How could His work enchant our sight?” - Preface to Scientific Studies, Goethe
“But in fact, the earliest references in all of Indian literature to individuals explicitly called yogis are Mahābhārata tales of Hindu and Buddhist hermits who take over other people’s bodies in just this way; and it is noteworthy that when yogis enter into other people’s bodies, they are said to do so through rays emanating from their eyes. The epic also asserts that a yogi so empowered can take over several thousand bodies simultaneously, and “walk the earth with all of them.” Buddhist sources describe the same phenomenon with the important difference that the enlightened being creates multiple bodies rather than taking over those belonging to other creatures. This is a notion already elaborated in an early Buddhist work, the Sāmaññaphalasutta, a teaching contained in the Dīgha Nikāya (the “Longer Sayings” of the Buddha), according to which a monk who has completed the four Buddhist meditations gains, among other things, the power to self-multiply. Several of the key terms found in this text reappear, with specific reference to yoga and yogis, in the 100 BCE–200 CE ayurvedic classic, the Caraka Saṃhitā.” from Yoga, The One and The Many by David Gordon White
…>

We are back with a Friday meet at our usual watering hole the Royal George near Tottenham Court Road. Come join us for the usual drinks and chat!
Anyone and everyone is welcome as long as you are 18+ and we are all very friendly. There is absolutely no pressure to drink and they have non-alcoholic options.
My name is Howard and I will aim to be there from 7pm. Look for a Chinese guy in glasses at the pub and I'll post what I am wearing on the day
If you have any questions just comment below or DM me on Reddit. See you there!

https://images.app.goo.gl/hoAMLAZpEPFXTDzA7
Location ⬆️
Since it’s Comics Aang, we can assume that he’s strong enough of a bender and developed enough that he’s able to take the bands off of his eyes or limbs.

Restrictions Kuvira can use her suit as she normally does, however Aang knows what her suit can do.

https://gfycat.com/boringunequaledangora
https://gfycat.com/dapperwindingdinosaur
•Both have normal earthbending skills
•Aang also has water, since she’s a freaking beast! He doesn’t know how powerful she is. These may only be fire blasts, but fire can have just as much, if not more power than earth!
https://imgur.com/a/ztDlW5Q
Aang- water, earth(seismic seismic yes
Kuvira- earth, metal/ no restrictions on her.
Goal is to KO, not kill the opponent.
Whoever loses has to go face to face with Koh
https://images.app.goo.gl/WEV17hzVwjSpYD1Y8

For example: Wolfsheim - "Find You're Here" has lyrics about being in a relationship but in kind of a listless way, Wolfsheim - "Find You're Gone" has almost the same beat and melody but with "sequel" lyrics about appreciating that someone has broken off an uninteresting relationship, 89ers - "No Go Go Go" has lyrics about being happy in a relationship and has a very similar beat and melody to 89ers - "Go Go Go Go" which has lyrics about an unstable relationship.
Is there a term for this practice, or other examples anyone can think of?

Name:

Figure.09

 

Type:

Specialization

 

Activation Conditions:

• User must know name of Target (Given name and surname, alternatively any unique nickname the Target commonly goes by).
  
• User must harbor feelings of hostility towards the Target.
  
• User and Target must currently be in conflict.
  
• User cannot dodge any attack from the Target directed at the User, but is allowed to protect themselves using Nen (Ten/Ken/Ryu or any other means of defending yourself that doesn't involve avoiding the attack). Target missing an attack for reasons other than the User dodging does not count as a breach of this condition.
  
• Target must exhaust their aura (run out of P.A.P.) during the fight.
  

 

Effect:

On fulfilling the conditions, the Target is forced into Zetsu. Any Nen Ability the Target possesses is absorbed by the User. The Users Maximum Aura Power (M.A.P.) is also increased by a variable percent of the Target's M.A.P., determined by how much damage the User absorbed during the fight, starting with 0% if the User took no damage, up to 100% if they took all the attacks directed at them without any defensive measures what so ever.
 
The User can access any ability they've stolen by stating the name (Given name and surname, or unique nickname) of the owner of the ability they want to use, and by emulating their thoughts, feelings, mannerisms and personality. The closer the User manages to empathize with the Target, the more efficient the usage of the ability will be. If the User has zero empathy for the Target, any ability they try to use will "fizzle out" and have no effect at all, while having perfect empathy for their target theoretically means they can use the ability at 100% efficiency.
 
Each time an ability is used in this way, one random aspect the Target's person becomes part of the User, or if it's already a part, is strengthened, forcing them to learn more about and identify with the Target as a person. At the same time, an aspect of either the Users own, or another Target's person is weakened. In this way, the User's own personality becomes an amalgamation of parts of their original personality, combined with parts of all of the Targets' personalities whose abilities and aura have been absorbed. How much each target contributes to the personality of the User depends on the ratio of how much their abilities has been used, compared to the total number of times the User has used any nen ability from any other person (including any ability of their own).
 

Post-activation Conditions:

In order to keep the Abilities and Aura absorbed from the Target, three conditions must be fulfilled after activation.

• The User must explain their ability to the Target. Failure to do so within 30 minutes of absorption counts as a breach of this condition.
  
• The Target must still be alive.
  
• The User must still harbor feelings of hostility towards the target. If the User acknowledges or realizes that they no longer feel any ill will towards the Target, this condition is no longer fulfilled. Deliberately choosing to let go of any feelings of hostility towards the Target also counts as a breach of this condition.
  

 
If these conditions are broken the User immediately:

• Loses all the abilities they absorbed from the Target.
  
• Loses a percentage of their current M.A.P equal to the percentage that the absorbed aura made up of their total M.A.P at the time of absorption. I.e if their M.A.P immediately after absorption was 10 000, and 5% of that (500) was from the Target, and the User's M.A.P currently is 20 000, their M.A.P will decrease by 1 000 (5% of 20 000), not by 500 (5% of 10 000).
  
• Loses any aspect of their personality that was contributed by the Target, although any knowledge about who the Target is as a person is retained. The remaining Targets' contributions to the personality of the User is recalculated based on the rules given above. In the event that the User loses the abilities and aura of every person they've ever absorbed from, they regain their original personality.
  

 
At this point, if the Target is still alive they are immediately released from Zetsu, regain the abilities that were stolen from them, and their own M.A.P. is increased by an equal amount to what the User lost (following the above example, since the M.A.P. of the user decreased by 1 000 aura, the M.A.P. of the Target is now increased by 1 000).
 

Meta-information:

Very loosely based on the lyrics from Linkin Park's song Figure.09 from their album Meteora. Some lines from the lyrics have been deliberately misinterpreted in order to fit in with the ability better. I'm not going to go through the lyrics line by line and explain which lines I took inspiration from, but it should be relatively simple to recognize what part of the lyrics inspired what part of the ability. However, not all aspects of the ability were inspired by the song, so if there's some parts which can't be connected to anything in the lyrics, that's probably why.

So yesterday I finished C2P2 and really enjoyed it. I'm on Alice/Kanna die route because the moment after the Room of Lies ended, I was positive Reko was switched with a fake (it seemed logical because they had both dolls and AIs of semingly everyone). And I think Sou in very interesting and I really wanna know more about him. (yes I killed a child, what about it?)
I have few theories I just want to put out there, maybe hoping to got back here when I finish Chapter 3

• Sou has a chance to live and I have 2 reasons to think that.

1. The Roster Page information is badly presented. That theory comes from my programming side and knowing how floating point values can be deceiving. The kidnappers told Sou how extremely precise those values were, so I'm troubled by the fact that they only showed one number after the decimal point (not as precise as Sou make it look). My guess is that his actual chance of survival is something like 0.01% Either that, or the AI Shin had to have a different First Trial (they didn't have that info yet), and him having that information changed how he acted, in turn changing the outcome. (I still think the 1st one is true, because it's a better plot twist imo)

• Memondarium is a closer look at the Hades Incident. Some of y'all probably forgot what Hades Incident even is, so here's a quick rundown. As stated by Keiji, there was a death game very similar like this one before. It was one done by multiple organized crime families, to find a true ruler of the criminal underground and thus, The Hades Incident. I'd make sense not only because both Memondarium and Hades Incident have no real connection to the story thus far, but also because what is the Main Game, if not a deadly game of Mafia? It'd only make sense if it was somehow connected to the world of organized crime!
• Everyone was destined to participate in the Death Game, since they were born. I know that might sound crazy, but that makes a ton of sense if you look at the info we have right now!

1. Gashu once said "Everyone, have you ever harbored doubts about your upbringing", after being asked about what being a "Candidate" for the death game means. My guess is that everyone here was chosen for this game from a very young age. Why? To continue what the Hades Incident started of course! I'm gonna take a wild guess and say that everyone in the death game was somehow connected to the Hades Incident. So descendants of participants, friends with someone who investigated it (Keiji) etc. In a world where that is true, I'd see either Kai, Sara or Sou be a grandchild of the winner (Kai being the person on the inside, Sara being the one with highest win probability, and Sou because it'd be a cool plot twist. Someone who's survival chances are extremely low is a son of someone who won the very same game before).
2. "Win, and survive. For you were all born to win." is something that Gashu says right before Main Game (I believe, might be before the trading phase). I'm not sure what it means, but Gashu is way too careful with his words to just spout something like that (especially because Floor Masters cannot lie). My best bet is that he's saying something along the lines of "Everyone here was born from great people, thus all of you can accomplish great things"

• The secret room photo is Hades Incident's winner. Pretty self explanatory. The photo is titled "Inauguration" and portrays a silver-haired man wearing a business suit. The only logical reason for it being here I see is him being the 'new' leader of the criminal underground/ASU-NARO (kidnappers' organization). I also think ASU-NARO was born from that criminal underground, but I don't have much evidence for that. It's really just a hunch.
• Shin knew a real Sou, and they were very close. We now know that Sou's actual name is Shin Tsukimi. Which only makes things more complicated, when we think about the fact that Alice confessed to Keiji who he killed in a post chapter scene. The name of the man Alice killed was Sou Hiyori. We also know from a file of Kai's laptop about a secret, 21st participant who got deleted from the database. Someone very closely resembling Shin (same teal hair and scarf). The only reason they would delete someone from the database is in a case of their death. I'm gonna assume that those 2 deaths are connected, because of Checkov's gun (the writer introduced the name Sou Hiyori as the name of Alice's victim, they created a character that looks basically like the person that we knew as Sou the whole time) I don't know if they were brothers (unlikely because of the last name), friends or lovers. I just know they're connected, because Shin has Sou's scarf.

That's all I have to say, it's gonna be fun to look back when I have more knowledge! I'm also turning off reply notifs to avoid spoilers, so you can go ham with them!

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Summary: Your father, the king, is deathly ill. After all your attempts to save him have failed, you are left with only one option–you must seek out the dark sorcerer, long ago exiled from the kingdom, and hope that he has a cure. But, even if he agrees to help…what will it cost you?
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——————————
Well, well…what an unexpected surprise. It’s not often I have guests here in these forsaken halls. Step forward, my dear. Come into the light, and let me get a better look at you.
My…that’s quite the cloak you’ve got there. What is your name?
The Listener shares their name.
(Softly) I see. A lovely name, indeed. So lyrical, like music on the tongue. It almost sounds familiar…have I heard it somewhere before?
The Listener suddenly speaks up, asking the sorcerer their name in turn.
Who am I? \chuckle** I am the Sorcerer [insert VA's name here]. It is a pleasure to meet you, my dear. Now…what could bring a delicate little thing like yourself out into these desolate wastes? Are you an adventurer, perhaps? Here to slay the evil sorcerer in exchange for gold and glory? (teasing the Listener) Or perhaps you wish to learn my secrets, hmm? Is that it, my dear? You just can’t resist the allure of my forbidden magic? You can’t help but hear those sweet, scintillating whispers, as the darkness calls to you?
The Listener vehemently denies it, anger on their face.
Such a withering look! Now, now, my dear; I only jest. There’s no need to get angry…(whispers)...though I do like a fiery spirit.
The Listener bravely plows on, saying that they need the sorcerer’s help.
You need my help? (Intrigued, sly) Oh, my; that is interesting. What could be so important that you would be willing to brave the dangers of this wasteland? What could you desire badly enough that it would lead you to seek out the sorcerer whose name is feared throughout the entire kingdom?…
The Listener says that they need a cure.
Hmm? A cure, you say?
The Listener explains their situation: their father is terribly ill with an unknown malady, and all attempts to heal him have failed.
Ah, I see. Your father is terribly ill, and none of the kingdom’s healers have been able to help him. He’s not long for this world, they say…so, in desperation, you’ve come to me. You seek my aid in curing him of this unknown malady; is that it?
The Listener nods.
\chuckle** Well, fear not, my dear. I know a way to cure your father. (Softly) However…you can’t get something for nothing, I’m afraid. There will be a cost.
The Listener asks what they would want in exchange.
What do I want?...Well, for starters, how about you tell me who you really are?
The Listener freezes. They try to protest, but the Sorcerer sees right through their facade.
Come, now, my dear; let's not play games. Why don’t you lower your hood, and let me see your face?...You can try to lie, but your voice is shaking like a leaf. Don’t be afraid, my dear. Lower your hood. I must know who you really are if I am to help you.
Reluctantly, the Listener lowers their hood, revealing their face—the face of royalty.
(Triumphantly) Ah, yes…just as I thought. Good day, Your Highness. What an honor to have royalty under my roof.
The Listener asks how the sorcerer knew about the Listener’s true identity.
…How did I know? Oh, don’t look so surprised, my dear. I knew it was you the moment you stepped into my halls. Let me look at you properly…
(softly, the most genuine he’s been so far) My…how lovely you are. Your eyes, as bright as the first stars of evening…your face, like Spring’s first flower…even the scratches on your cheeks can’t diminish your radiance. I take it that my Crimson Creepers put up a fight? It must have taken a lot of courage, to simply stand there and bear the pain. Most people would have fought back on instinct…only to end up having the life choked out of them, the thorny tendrils wrapped around their throats. You are brave, on top of everything else…it’s no wonder you’re the jewel of the kingdom.
But, back to business. Let me see…ah, yes.
The Sorcerer holds up a vial.
Here is the cure, my dear. This potion will cure any malady, no matter how severe. Hmm?...Why yes, it is made using “dark magic.” Would you expect anything else from me, the exiled Sorcerer of legend? \laughs** But, I assure you, the potion will do nothing but good. One sip, and your father will be himself again, just as healthy as he was, if not more so. However…I will require something else in return.
What’s that, you ask? (Grinning, malicious) I want…a promise. Yes, a promise. At some point, my dear, I will come and find you, to name my price. And when I do, you must promise to give it to me, no matter what it is. Well? Do we have a deal?...
The Listener hesitates.
You’re trembling, my dear. Are you afraid? It’s your choice, Highness. If you wish, you can turn and walk right out that door. But decide quickly–my patience is limited, as is your beloved father’s time. That’s right–while you stand here idly, his life is bleeding away, like sand in an hourglass. Well? What will it–?
The Listener suddenly snatches the potion.
–Oh! \chuckle** Well, then, I suppose that’s that. Very good…
The Listener backs away, saying that their business is done.
Yes; I suppose that means our business is done. Good luck, my dear. A pleasure to assist you…I am sure we’ll meet again, before long.

NEMESIS 2: Chapter 39
Bruce
Ashlyn and I had lived in the house across from the supervillain for about a year now. It felt like a hundred, given how many times we'd had to flee for our lives, hide from a battle, or stop a murderous robot from trimming Ashlyn's sunflower garden. The damn robot kept reciting HOA bylaws about plant growth tolerances for line of sight surveillance, whatever the hell that meant.
We had had enough.
I was hammering the 'For Sale' sign into the front lawn when I heard the rhythmic 'thump' sounds of robot feet on sidewalk concrete. I quickened my hammering, trying to finish before the damn robot tried to tell me I was 'restricting local airspace' or some shit like-
"Out of the way, Fuckface" an angry woman's voice snarled at me.
I froze. That was certainly not what I had expected to hear. All of the other robot thugs always spoke in a masculine, stiffly polite manner with a hint of authority. This voice was the complete opposite of that.
I looked towards the robot and froze again. Instead of the single off-brand Terminator I was expecting, I was greeted by an entire circus of crappy replica versions of fictional robots. The lead speaker was mostly like the other robots, but it had green lighting instead of red, and carried several large tanks along its back, like one of those old WWII flamethrower guys. Behind it stood a heavily armored version, looming at least 5 feet above the heads of its companions. One other robot stuck out more than the others, mostly because its 7ish foot tail literally stuck out from the group.
"Is that a dinosaur?" I asked stupidly. The robot dinosaur grinned, showing rows of serrated teeth.
"Would it make you fuck off faster if I said yes?" the green robot asked.
I took the hint and rushed inside, leaving the hammer next to the unsecured sign. The real estate agent's face was left leaning more awkwardly than his forced smile and thumb's up from his position on the advertisement.
"Did you get the sign up?" Ashlyn asked as I slammed the door closed. "I'm looking over these house staging instructions that Dave gave us, and he wants-"
"Another army of robots is- wait, who's Dave?" I asked, startled out of my train of thought once again.
"Our real estate agent, you've met him like five times now. I swear, you men only remember shit like football stats and-"
"Sorry, doesn't matter" I interrupted. "There's a robot army heading to the Doom guy's house, we should get-"
Another interruption came, from outside the house this time. The explosion shook the windows in their frames, knocking any loose objects to the floor. I dove into the kitchen, scuttling on all fours as I fled behind the kitchen island for cover.
"WHY DID YOU ASK ABOUT DAVE WHEN THIS WAS GONNA HAPPEN?!?!" Ashlyn yelled at me from over the ruckus going on outside.
"It caught me off guard, okay?" I replied, peeking over the granite countertops. A robot with the familiar red lighting was struggling to escape from the jaws of the dinosaur robot, succeeding only when the sparks faded and its body fell to the ground in two separate parts. The massive foot of the behemoth robot came down on its head in a vicious stomp, leaving the automaton much thinner and stationary than it was previously.
"Are you THAT insecure? Jesus, Bruce, I swear..."
I ducked behind the counter and faced my wife. "Look, you just said the guy's name like it was nothing, and I didn't-"
"Because it WAS nothing! He's our relator, you would have known that if-"
A stream of liquid splashed across the front windows, then sizzled as it ate its way through. I grabbed Ashlyn by the arm and dragged her back deeper into the house, until we reached my office nook under the stairs.
"I'm not great with names, you know that" I grumbled, peeking around the corner to make sure nothing else was putting us in imminent danger. I didn't see anything amiss besides the flashes of light from robot attack and counter-attack.
"Yeah, because you forget EVERY GODDAMN THING! It's so frustrating when I try to involve you in anything, you always forget-"
A robot frame flew through the wall separating the kitchen from the office nook, landing in a heap against my IKEA brand desk. The support side collapsed under the robots weight, which was probably well above the manufacturer's recommended weight limit for the MÅLVAKT desk.
"I don't forget everything, I just don't think of it" I said as I tried to stomp out the small fire the robot's sparking corpse created. "I have a lot on my mind-"
"Oh, SURE you do!" Ashlyn shouted. "With all your super important work shit, while I get stuck with planning meals, cooking your dinner, doing the laundry, and have you ONCE offered to help? NoOoOoOo, not Bruce the important!"
The robot dinosaur burst through the small pilot hole left by the dead robot, followed by two live versions. They both extended two wicked blades from their forearms, which crackled with electric currents as they sliced through nothingness.
I grabbed Ashlyn's arm once more and ran to the garage door across the hall, narrowly avoiding the flailing metal tail of the dinosaur as it twisted back onto its feet. The thing roared and charged the sword bearers, snapping one of the attacker's blades in its massive jaws.
I pulled the door closed behind me. "Do you have your keys?" I asked hopefully.
"Sure, because I'M the mindful one, its MY job to make sure we can escape with our lives!" Ashlyn roared. Hers was far more intimidating than the dinosaur's as it crunched and cracked from behind the door.
"Can we talk about this later?" I asked, "When things calm down a bit?"
"NO! Because there's always SOMETHING with you! If it's not your suuuuuper important job, its some overblown illness, or phantom pain, or your IBS or any of a fucking thousand reasons why you can't talk right now!"
I stared at my infuriated wife with my jaw hanging open in disbelief. "A robot dinosaur is fighting other evil robots in my office, I think that's a pretty damn good excuse."
An explosion blew the garage door inwards, smashing into my truck's windshield and ripping through.
"Awww, come *ON!" I yelled. "I was four payments away..."
"Oh, so you have time for your goddamn truck, but not for me?" Ashlyn scolded.
"You didn't just die from collateral robot attack."
"Well, maybe I should, if this is how you'd react." She stated coldly.
"Oh, come off it, Ash" I moaned. "Just get your car started so we can get the fuck out of here?"
Ashlyn hopped into her Nissan Altima and pressed the start button with an angry finger jab. I tried for the passenger handle, but fount it locked.
"Ash, could you..." I began, but stoped as she shot me a. furious glare.
"I want a divorce." She said, loudly enough to be heard over the cacophony of combat. Then, she peeled out of the garage, swerving to avoid the massive robot as it unloaded a big gun into a cluster of robots inside the villain's house.
I ducked back inside as the defending robots returned fire, landing in a puddle of oil or some other black robot goo. The Dinosaur robot looked up from its latest kill, oil dripping from its whirring teeth.
"Um... hi." I said, waving awkwardly at the dinosaur. "I'm Bruce."
The dinosaur grinned, revealing a robot arm wedged in its back teeth. "Velociraptor Vixen" she cooed, "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance".
It resumed its meal, chomping into the torso of the last remaining robot as it thrashed for... well, it was dead now, so it didn't really matter anymore.
I stepped over the puddle of mysterious robot fluid, and walked through the ruins of my home. The only thing still standing was, ironically, the For Sale sign in the yard.
"Where the FUCK is it?" The woman robot yelled from across the street.
"The Time Device was stored in the secure section of the laboratory" the big robot said, lowering itself down with a hiss of pneumatics and the groan of ball bearings. "The security clearance necessary to access it-"
A red robot landed on the big guys back, and dug its hands deep into the exposed wiring through the opened armor slots. The big robot stumbled back towards me, flailing its arms in comically large circles as it tried to regain its balance. I rolled out of the way as it fell on its back, like the world's most heavily armed turtle.
The red robot clawed at the bigger one's neck, tearing armor like tissue paper as it pressed the attack.
To this day, I have no idea what I was thinking when I grasped the fallen hammer from beside Dave's stupid fucking face. I have no idea why I decided to help the big robot on my lawn by hitting the red robot in the face with the claw side of the hammer, shattering some sort of protective glass over where its eyes should have been. What I do know is that the retaliatory swing from the red robot's arm knocked the wind out of me, sending me tumbling off of the massive robot and onto the ruined grass below. Darkness enveloped me as I tried to recall what brand of grass seed I needed to buy to fix the smoldering holes in my lawn this spring.
My darkness retreat ended before it had a chance to begin.
"Hey, asshole" the angry robot woman said, slapping me across the face. I coughed as I sat up, and spit out a tooth and a considerable amount of blood.
"Owwwww" I moaned, massaging the damaged cheek where her metal hand had struck.
"Did you see anyone take a glowing green box out of here recently?" She asked, kneeling in the grass beside me. "About 2 feet long, maybe a foot wide? Makes funny sounds, controls the flow of time in our universe, has two blinky lights. Ring a bell?"
I almost complained about my missing tooth, but stopped myself just short of voicing the complaint. I didn't imagine the acid slinging robot would have empathy for the wound that she had given me.
"um... yeah, I think I saw that" I said, prodding my new tooth hole with my tongue. "Day before yesterday, some guy and a bunch of suits..."
The female robot stood, ignoring me completely. "They have it" she snarled. "Fucking Hell."
The invading robots left, stomping off in the direction they had come from. I looked around at the destruction, trying to take into account how many homes had...
The supervillain's house was little more than rubble. My house was as good as gone. No other houses had so much as a scratch.
The house beside mine opened, and my neighbor Patrick stuck his head outside. He glanced at the carnage of two destroyed homes and dozens of dead robots, then to me.
"I can se why y'all are movin' out" He said, then ducked back inside. The door swung closed, caught at the end by hydraulics and gently guided into the doorframe.