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thewakingcloak · 3 years

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Debugblog: Darn Diagonals

I love and hate debugging. It’s frustrating to have a problem and have to work it out before you can continue being creative. On the other hand, it’s a puzzle, and I like puzzles. Working them out feels really good. Like beating that boss.

Anyway I don’t know if this is helpful to y’all, but I decided to write up a blog on my debugging process. (Maybe I’ll do more in the future under the “Debugblog” series??)

So here’s the issue.

In this gif, I’m ONLY pressing one key at a time: left, right, up, or down. But the player is moving at an angle somehow.

The weirdest part: this doesn’t happen all the time, and it only happens in daytime. This is baffling.

So the first step in debugging is we need to replicate the issue. When I initially found this bug, it was only happening on a random screen and just slightly so. I ignored it for a while. When I saw it happen again, I started making mental notes of the conditions in which it occurred.

Eventually I found a place where I could reproduce the issue consistently (in the gif above). This will be invaluable when testing! If the issue is hard to replicate, it’s harder to test and harder to check when it’s working.

The next step is usually the biggest one: finding the cause of the bug. Usually you want to isolate the issue, which you’ll see come up a lot as I move forward...

So anyway, the bug is with movement. I have two “movement” scripts. One that takes into account various environmental variables and modifies velocity--move_actor()--and one that actually moves the object and factors in collision--movement_and_collision().

I figured the first place I should go is my move_actor() script. I want to know if the extra variable in movement is being added to the velocity before movement_and_collision() is called.

One of the most common ways to debug is using a breakpoint. I could use a breakpoint here, but the issue is that this line runs every single frame I’m moving, so that makes movement difficult. Instead, I’m going to use show_debug_message() (I created console_log() as shorthand which also shows time and frame information).

(Full disclosure, I actually was looking at the code in the “else” block first, and the velocity was always being logged as 0,0 lol... because that only runs when the player isn’t moving. It’s okay to make mistakes!)

So I played the game and duplicated the issue. My guess was that there would be an extra y value added here, but lo and behold, there wasn’t. Check out some of the debug output:

[14:51:34.16493] x: -1.20, y: 0

[14:51:34.16511] x: -1.20, y: 0

[14:51:34.16527] x: -1.20, y: 0

[14:51:34.16543] x: -1.20, y: 0

[14:51:34.16560] x: -1.20, y: 0

This is what we’d expect: the player is moving left at 1.2 pixels per frame and y movement is 0. However, I am still seeing extra y movement in game. Unfortunately this means we did not find our issue yet, but it also means we can discount everything in move_actor() and before! Basically this extra movement is almost certainly in movement_and_collision().

Okay, so let’s clean up move_actor() and move into movement_and_collision(). This is an asset I bought from Pixelated Pope, so I won’t show you the whole thing (not that I was showing you all of move_actor() either), but I’ll show you the important stuff. This is near the end:

Yeah, so this never gets hit, lol. Let’s try earlier in the script.

Uhh... sorry this is hard to read (tumblr is not great for posting code). I’m logging lengthdir_x and lengthdir_y in the initial tile_and_place_meeting_3d() check.

Alright, so here are some logs. Yep. Here’s our unwanted diagonal movement.

[15:05:12.10597] x: 1.17, y: -0.24

[15:05:13.10613] x: 1.17, y: -0.24

[15:05:13.10630] x: 1.17, y: -0.24

Okay, so this script actually does have some recursiveness built in (it calls itself under certain conditions). That’ll make debugging this a little bit trickier. Let’s figure out which “recursion” this is being called on. In other words, I want to know if this is happening on the first run of the script every frame, or when the script calls itself. Luckily, this recursion functions via a “count” variable (which stops the script from infinitely calling itself lol). I’ll add that into my console_log().

I forgot to add a space, but that’s okay, we can still read it. it looks like it’s occurring when it calls itself (count is “2”).

[15:13:40.11644] count: 2x: -1.17, y: 0.24

[15:13:40.11661] count: 2x: -1.17, y: 0.24

[15:13:40.11677] count: 2x: -1.17, y: 0.24

I’m actually going to move this outside of the if block and see if it occurs during all calls or just on the second. Here are the logs.

[15:17:38.12612] count: 1, x: -1.20, y: 0

[15:17:38.12612] count: 2, x: -1.17, y: -0.24

[15:17:38.12628] count: 1, x: -1.20, y: 0

[15:17:38.12628] count: 2, x: -1.17, y: 0.24

Okay, we’ve confirmed it’s occurring only when the script calls itself. However, I think this is actually “correct” behavior. The movement_and_collision() script is doing something called “angle sweeps” for its collision checking. If it can’t find an opening (i.e. runs into a wall), it tries again at a slightly different angle. This allows the player to move along diagonal collision walls.

That means the issue seems to actually be in the collision check. It’s finding a collision where there should not be any, meaning the angle sweep gets triggered!

Okay, so the issue seems to be in tile_and_place_meeting_3d. This is my tile_and_place_meeting_3d() script:

There’s a lot of ground to cover, so I’m going to actually break this up so I can figure it out easier. Basically we want to narrow down to exactly where the issue is occurring. Isolating the issue.

The output of this is weird as heck, but yeah, it’s occurring in tile_meeting_precise(). I’m not colliding with any tiles--or shouldn’t be.

[15:36:49.45138] tile: 0, instance: 0

[15:36:49.45139] tile: 1, instance: 0

[15:36:49.45154] tile: 1, instance: 0

[15:36:49.45155] tile: 0, instance: 0

[15:36:49.45155] tile: 1, instance: 0

[15:36:49.45171] tile: 1, instance: 0

[15:36:49.45171] tile: 0, instance: 0

[15:36:49.45172] tile: 1, instance: 0

[15:36:49.45188] tile: 1, instance: 0

Okay, I could debug further, but we know which script the issue is in. I happen to know I’ve made a few recent changes to this script, so first I want to share the magic of version control!

I use git and store my code on a private github repository. This means I can go back and see a history of all changes made to this file.

Okay yeah, so what I’m gonna try first is to just take the old version and put it in GameMaker and see if that fixes the issue. I do need the changes from the new version, but if I can pinpoint the issue as having been part of this specific change, I can rework it (probably).

You can usually do this via a revert but I was dumb and copy+pasted the old version and deleted the new version. Way jankier, BUT the old version fixed the issue! That means some change I introduced in the new version is causing the issue.

The next step is to redo the new changes one by one until we figure out which one is the culprit.

I recreated all my changes and the issue only occurs when I enable “SD tile collision checking”. How exactly SD collision works isn’t important to this debug process, but it’s essentially the opposite of “HD tile collision checking”, which is for the player so they can slide smoothly along walls. HD tile collision can be smooth because it uses enlarged colliders (the reason for this is a long story).

However, logging shows that the player object never hits SD collision checking. Interesting, right? Why would the player have a collision only when SD collision checking is added but the player never hits it? Well, I think the answer goes back to some of our initial discoveries when replicating the bug: it only happens in the day. Now, nothing changes for the player physics/movement between day and night, but other objects do call this script that are affected by day and night.

I quickly added a log to print out object names to see what other objects use this. It’s easier than doing a search all files for the script name because that could end up with all sorts of results, some of them not directly being called by the objects. [Note: I later found this actually is what is happening; an object is calling this script indirectly via another script] Anyway, here’s the log:

show_debug_message(object_get_name(object_index)); is a super handy way to print out the names of objects calling a script.

The logs showed a handful of items are checking collision: keys, heart containers, teleporters, etc. I want to start with the teleporters, though, since so far those always seem to be present where the weirdness is happening. Just a hunch.

Oh and guess what? Teleporter_obj is calling tlie_meeting_ground() in the daytime only. We know the issue only occurs in daytime. And tile_meeting_ground() seems like it could easily be related to tile_meeting_precise() right?

So the quick and easy check here is to comment out lines 8 and 9. And guess what? No more weird player collision! So now we have the culprit. But we do actually need this code. So... why is this interfering with the player?

First, I confirmed that it was indeed the tile_meeting_ground() script by removing it. Then I put it back and did some more digging. Interestingly, this script never calls tile_and_place_meeting_3d() (remember, that’s the script I modified and is causing the issue). So that’s a bit baffling. This is all it does.

I need to narrow this down more. I started by returning early if the object was a teleporter. I first did this on line 59 before calling tile_get_at_point(), then on line 60, etc.

Eventually I broke out each individual check and tested returning after each one so I could pinpoint which part of this script was causing the issue. Turns out it’s ground_z_get().

ground_z_get() determines... well, where the ground is. And guess what? It does call tile_meeting_precise(). AHA! Another mistake on my part. But we’ve established that’s okay. :)

The ground_z_get() code is not pleasant to post here, so suffice it to say, I changed the part where it calls tile_meeting_precise() to skip when it’s the teleporter calling.

This is definitely the problem.

Now we know where obj_teleporter is calling tile_meeting_precise() and this is starting to make more sense. When I was confused about the tile_meeting_ground() code not being related to the tile_meeting_precise() code, I was wrong, because tile_meeting_ground() indirectly calls it. And we already knew that obj_teleporter called tile_meeting_precise() somehow (otherwise it wouldn’t have shown up in the output log). This is it.

Okay but that’s a patch, not a true fix. I’m going to undo it, roll up my sleeves, and dive back into tile_meeting_precise(), the source of all our woes.

Looking at this script further, I think I may know vaguely what’s going on here. It creates a checker object that matches tile collision. Now, this is a local variable, and when place_meeting() is called, it’s against the instance id, not against all obj_precise_tile_checker. But just for kicks, I’m going to destroy the instance before the script returns to see if this is the issue.

This worked!!!

As to why, I was a bit confused at first. This is all local variables, right? One object calling this script will have local variables that should not ever affect another object calling this script with its own local variables.

But the secret is up here:

A bit of optimization so that we’re not constantly creating a bunch of collision checkers every single frame. What is happening is the first time this script is run (say an SD one), it creates a tile checker and sets the size (later in the script). Then when another object comes in (say the player with HD/smooth checking), it sees that a checker object is already created and does not create an appropriately scaled one.

I’ve got a better idea than using instance_destroy()... I’ll create an SD and an HD tile checker object. That way we can create both and they can exist at the same time without interfering with each other.

Here we’re just creating an HD checker if we wanna use HD collision checking (just the player right now lol) and SD checker if we wanna use SD checking. Boom. I removed the instance_destroy() from this script and here we go...

That fixed it!

And the final step: test everything! Of course you should be testing after each incremental change so you know exactly what fixes or causes the issue (which we did). And I already tested walking. But let’s make sure our teleporters still work. :)

I tested a bunch of ‘em, but here’s everything working as expected!

Yay!

I hope this was helpful to you!

Peace

#gamedev #devlog #devblog #debugging #debugblog

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duskowithapen · 4 years

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Day Five: Soulmates

Fandom: Sherlock

Pairing: John Watson/Sherlock Holmes (Kinda ambiguous)

You’ll Be With Me (Like a Handprint on my Heart)

Sherlock never quite believed in soul mates – in feeling that elusive tug in his soul mark and finding his ‘other half’ – but if he had to chose someone to be bound with, John Watson would be his first and only choice. If only life was that easy. Writer’s Month 202 Day Five: Soulmates

Sherlock never truly believed in soulmates.

That isn’t to say that he doesn’t believe in their existence – a metaphysical bond between two individuals, manifesting as a colourful handprint placed somewhere of significance to their relationship – as it had been well documented and the subject of thousands of research projects and papers over the centuries.

Unfortunately, it had also been the main plot point of various novels, movies and television shows. A soul mark became a marketable product, promoting true love and happily ever after and second halves. Sherlock’s first exposure to this was within the fairy tale of Cinderella – where her glass slippers revealed the handprint around her heel, and how the prince went made searching for the girl who made his heart beat again. Such things were hogwash.

Approximately 42% of marriages end in divorce. Over half of these are between soulmates. Of the other half, almost a third of them are caused by on person in the relationship finding their soulmate. Almost 60% of men cheat on their wife, and an undocumented amount of them involved soulmates on one side of the equation or the other.

Not exactly the perfect love story.

Soulmates, as Sherlock explained to his mother at the tender age of nine, are a waste of time. This proclamation came after his brother left – after Redbeard died – after he learned that sentiment is weakness.

And what bigger sentiment than soulmates?

You’ll change your mind when you meet your soulmate, his mother explained with an expression of long-suffering (one she often wore around him). She had one hand around his leg, just above the bright red handprint that ringed his ankle. They’re going to be a passionate one, she gushed. They’re going to have to bet if they want to keep up with you!

Her own soul mark was a deep blue, cupping the left side of her face. His father liked to cover it with his own hand at any opportunity. Mother would then wrap an arm around his waist, where a deep gold soul mark rested just above Father’s hip. Sherlock had never seen it, but Mother had described it so often that it resided in his mind palace, pride of place in his father’s room.

(Sherlock had never seen Mycroft’s soul mark. He had asked about it once, when he was five. He’d never asked again.)

His soul mark didn’t become an issue till he went to university. There, everyone wanted to know where his soul mark was – what colour was it – had he met his soul mate yet? After giving scathing and painfully true deductions about their sexual preferences, habits and feelings about their soul mate (whether they’d found them or not), the question’s stopped. After all…

Who would want Sherlock Holmes as a soulmate?

Well it seems, Sherlock thought slowly, John Watson might.

They were laughing at a crime scene – something John was swatting at him for, telling him off, no giggling near dead bodies Sherlock – when one of Scotland Yard’s ‘finest’ walked past with a sneer.

“Wish Lestrade would keep Holmes and his soulmate away from our fuckin’ cases.”

Sherlock immediately sobered. John, always attentive to his mood, met his eyes before turning away.

“Oi!”

The hapless uniform turned around and immediately regretted it.

“I don’t give two shits about what you think of me but leave Sherlock alone. If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t have found this body, let alone had the chance to catch the bloody bastard who did it. If keeping your mouth closed is too difficult, try to not aim it at us.” John was standing with both feet planted, arms crossed and angled slightly towards Sherlock, like he was ready to jump in and physically protect him.

When he didn’t get a response soon enough, John barked, “Understand?”

The officer nodded, saluted, and scrambled.

John huffed. “Hate bastards like that. Don’t know how you put up with it Sherlock.”

Sherlock opened his mouth – to thank John, ask him if it was true, if John was his soul mate, he wasn’t sure yet – but Sally got in first.

“So you are his soulmate? The whole precinct’s been wondering.”

“That’s none of your business Sergeant Donovan,” John said in his ‘Captain’ voice. “You have about as much right to details of my relationship with Sherlock as I do to your relationship with Anderson.” As Sally began to squawk, John turned to him. “Are you ready to leave?”

Sherlock nodded wordlessly and went to hail a cab.

Was John his soul mate?

Later on, after the end of a successful case, Sherlock sat in his chair while John dozed across from him. In his mind palace, he reviewed every piece of information he had on soul mates.

No guarantee that soul mates will meet… Soul marks colour and placement are of significance to the relationship shared… Once meeting one’s soul mate, a person can have a variety of reactions… A soul bond will be created upon meeting, although the intensity and depth of development can vary… some people have reported suddenly feeling their soul mates’ emotions… others reported a tingling in their mark… a pulling sensation within their soul mark has been described by some, often in fantastical terms such as ‘it was like our marks were magnets, trying to pull us together’, ‘a red strong of fate kind of think’, and ‘I can always find my soul mate now, I just need to follow that pull’…

Sherlock moved to John’s section of his mind palace to review their first meeting. There had been interest, curiosity about this person who so clearly was suffering from a psychosomatic limp, the cautious hope of something to help abate the boredom… but none of those correlated with evidence of a soul bond.

Yet why else would John stay?

Now that the prospect had been drawn to his attention, it would not leave. Sherlock would watch as John seemed to anticipate his needs, accurately judge his temper to determine whether to divert Anderson away from the scene or not, and most telling of all – no matter how many times Sherlock played the violin at 2 am, no matter how many body parts were left in the fridge, no matter how many times he’d interrupted dates for Johns’ (not completely necessary) assistance with a case, John didn’t leave.

And yet, Sherlock felt nothing.

No tingling.

No emotions outside his own.

No pull.

Could it be that John was his soulmate, but Sherlock wasn’t his? Or was he just too freakish, too damaged to register a soul bond. Maybe he was incapable of making one at all.

At least, that’s what he thought till he met Jim from IT. When Jim crossed behind him and bumped the dish, Sherlock felt a strong tug, like someone had grabbed his ankle and pulled. For a moment, he thought that Jim had ‘accidently’ twisted his feet to hit Sherlocks’, but he wasn’t close enough. Not to mention, after further examination, the sensation was less of a tug and more of a draw, like his ankle was a metal filling being drawn to a magnet.

The feeling didn’t leave until Jim did.

Sherlock was very careful to hide his revelation from John, and he put it in the back of his mind palace to be examined later. The likelihood of him meeting Jim from IT again was minimal – especially if Molly ended their relationship.

And then there was that tugging sensation again. At the pool. As John stood with ten pounds of Semtex strapped to his chest.

“Did I make such a fleeting impression Sherlock dear?” Moriarty said gleefully. “I thought you felt that tug too – pulling us together. But I suppose you did the smart thing and ignored it.” As Sherlock lifted the gun, a cluster of red dots appeared over John’s heart. “Don’t be silly Sherlock, someone else is holding the rifle. I’m not a fan of getting my hands dirty.

“I’ve given you a glimpse,” Moriarty said dramatically, pacing back and forth. “Just a teensy glimpse of what I’ve got going on out there in the big, bad world. You see, I’m a specialist… just. Like. You.” A grin spread across his face. “Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me, to get rid of my lover’s nasty sister? Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me to disappear into South America? I’m just like you Sherlock – the opposite side of your coin.”

“A consulting criminal.” Sherlock said flatly. “Brilliant.” He wished that it wasn’t. He wished in a way he hadn’t wished since he was a child, to stop feeling that damning tug against his ankle.

“Isn’t it? No one ever gets to me, and no one ever will.” Moriarty looked unbearably smug.

“I did.”

Something dangerous flashed in Moriarty’s face – the closest thing to a true emotion he’d seen on the other man’s face. “You’ve come the closest… But now you’re in my way. And being my soul mate isn’t going to change that.” He held up his hand, the one that had stayed in his pocket the entire time. Flashing back to ‘Jim from IT’, he noticed that his hand had very much stayed out of sight then too.

And for good reason.

A mottled grey and black handprint sat along the grooves and lines of Moriarty’s own fingers. They wiggled. “Like it, Sherlock? I tell everyone that it’s because my soul mate died – pretty sure Johnny boy here can tell you how that feels.”

And indeed, John’s face fell, and his hands twitched. One shoulder ducked for a moment, as if to protect it.

“But no, I was just saving it for you. Know what black and grey means Sherlock? Death and decay. That’s what our relationship is. I am willing to kill anyone and everyone in my way – I cut loose all those people, threw in thirty million quid, just to get you to play with me. So here’s a friendly warning, darling… Back off. Although I’ve adored this little game of ours, playing the friendly IT guy for the lovely Molly, I’ve got bigger and better things to do.”

“People have died for your game!” The words slipped out of Sherlock’s mouth. He was off balance – he needed to calm himself. Otherwise John might not be getting out of this alive.

“That’s what people do!” There was something derivative in Moriarty’s face, in the crinkle of his nose and curl of his lips. “They live and they die and they never amount to anything but momentary distractions.”

“I will stop you.”

Moriarty almost looked surprised. “No you won’t. Two sides of a coin remember – we’re destined to challenge each other forever. You should be excited! I can make sure you’re never bored again Sherlock.” He stepped closer and leaned over John’s shoulder. Sherlock stiffened at the proximity. “You’re awfully quiet Johnny boy. Go on, speak!”

Sherlock spared John a glance. “You alright?” His response was a nod. Sherlock flicked the flash drive in Moriarty’s direction. “Take it.”

He caught it with frustrating ease. “Oh, those! The missile plans!” He pressed the drive to his lips – possibly in an attempt to look coy, but it just turned Sherlock’s stomach – and flicked it back. “I could have gotten them from anywhere.”

It was only chance that had Sherlock locking eyes with John. That’s the only reason he wasn’t surprised by him catching Moriarty in a reverse bear hug the man looked all too prepared for.

“If your sniper pulls the trigger Jim, then we both go up.” John snarled. In that moment, Sherlock could see what war had made him.

“Awww, isn’t that sweet! I see why you keep him around darling. No wonder people think such a boorish person is your soulmate! Such loyalty can be touching, but… you’ve shown your hand Johnny boy.”

From the way John’s face grew tight with concern and anger, Sherlock could deduce that a sniper beam was aimed at him too. John let go and stepped back. There was a glint in his eye. This wasn’t surrender, but a tactical retreat.

Moriarty dusted himself off fastidiously. “Do you know what’s going to happen to you if you don’t leave me alone Sherlock?”

He rolled his eyes. “Let me guess, you’ll kill me?”

“Kill you? Don’t be so predictable. I mean, it’s a given that one day, I’ll be responsible for your demise, but that will be a special occasion. Not something to be rushed. No, if you don’t stop prying into my business… I’ll burn you.” Moriarty’s face went dark as he snarled, “I will burn the heart out of you.”

“I have been reliably informed,” Sherlock said with pseudo-calmness, “That I don’t have one.”

Moriarty huffed and looked deliberately at John. “We both know that’s not quite true. How much did it hurt, Sherlock, to find out that you’re not John Watson’s soulmate?” He didn’t give Sherlock a chance to answer before waving a hand. “I’d better be off. It was so nice to have a proper chat with my soulmate.”

Sherlock’s finger twitched on the trigger. “What if I was to shoot you, right now.”

“Hmmm… you could cherish the look of surprise on my face,” Moriarty said with an overly dramatic face – all raised eyebrows and rounded mouth. “Because it would be a surprise Sherlock, and perhaps a disappointment. Not to mention that fact that you wouldn’t be cherishing it for very long. Do you really think you can kill your soul mate? Kill your other half. I’ve heard that it can cause excruciating pain – huh Johnny boy?” With a finger on his chin, he thought for a moment. “It would be interesting to experience I suppose, but that’s a thought for another time.”

Moriarty flicked two fingers in a salute. “Ciao, Sherlock Holmes!” He disappeared around a corner.

As soon as he was out of sight, Sherlock scrambled to pull the coat and explosives off John. “Are you okay? Alright?” As he tugged at the sleeves, he couldn’t help but glance John over. No obvious wounds…

“I’m okay Sherlock, I’m fine!” At a particularly harsh tugged, John yelled over his shoulder, “Sherlock!”

He flung the now loose coat away, catching John’s collapse in the corner of his eye. He was panting. “Are you,” He huffed between breaths, “… okay?”

“Me? I’m fine.” Sherlock took a few steps closer. “That – that thing – that you did…” Words didn’t seem to want to come out of his mouth, “That thing you did – offered to do – that was good.”

“I’m glad no one saw that.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at the non sequitur.

John huffed out a breath of laughter. “You ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk.”

Something lightened in his chest at the smile John sent him. He got the message – we’re okay. “They do little else,” He said, for lack of a better response.

Then the lights returned to John’s chest, and that damnable tug at Sherlock’s ankle nearly pulled him off balance.

Moriarty!

************

After they dug themselves out of the wreckage, after the paramedics gave them a relatively clean bill of health, after Lestrade confirmed his presence for the next day regarding Moriarty, John and Sherlock returned to Baker Street.

Flopping into his armchair, Sherlock watched as John made up two cups of tea. His hands were steady as he handed one over, his movements measured as he sat down and took a sip.

“So,” He began slowly. “I take it you weren’t aware of having a psychopathic soul mate?”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at John’s uncharacteristic bluntness regarding the situation before responding in kind. “Aside from a tug at my soul mark when we met in the hospital, I was under the impression that I didn’t have a soul mate.”

“And… that thing about you not being my soul mate…?”

He stiffened. “Moriarty was trying to get a rise out of me.” He was loath to confess that it worked.

There was silence for a moment. Sherlock itched to get out his violin, create the most chaotic melodies, the harshest tunes to try and release the turmoil in his chest.

“I never bought into the whole soul mate thing,” John said as he looked up. “My parents were soul mates, but that didn’t stop them from getting into rows loud enough to shake the house. Harry found her soul mate in Clara, but her drinking problem stopped them from creating a deeper bond.” He took a deep breath. “In the army, you try not to think of your soul mates. Some guys I knew deliberately avoided anyone who they thought might be their soul mate – anyone who made their mark tingle even slightly, anyone with a similar coloured mark – because they knew what would happen if they died in combat.

“I was one of the lucky ones – or unlucky ones, depending on who you asked. I met my soul mate on my first tour in Afghanistan, and we managed to serve together for years. We weren’t lovers,” He said in response to Sherlock’s unanswered question. “That’s something else I’ve always hated about the soul mate thing – everyone assumes that once you meet, you immediately shag. Arthur and I weren’t ever like that. We were close – closer than anyone else – we could just about read each other’s minds and saved each other’s arse a dozen times over.”

John slowly began to unbutton his shirt. “I know you’ve been curious about my bullet wound.” Sherlock almost didn’t want to look. John spread the fabric out, pulling the sleeve of his under shirt down and away. The entry wound was at the front – something that surprised him, given that John wasn’t one to run away – and something must have shown on his face, because John smiled ruefully.

“Arthur had gone down. Damn insurgents got in a lucky shot to his leg. I was stabilising him when I was sniped. If it wasn’t for Arthur pulling my sideways, I wouldn’t be here today.” He paused for a moment and breathed deep. “It was a through and through shot – and when Arthur pulled, he – it –”

Sherlock closed his eyes briefly. He could imagine the bullet exiting John’s body and hitting the person beneath.

“If you look closely – actually, come here for a second…” John grabbed Sherlock’s hand and pulled him off the chair. His vision whited out for a moment – that warmth against his skin, so hot compared to his own cooler temperature, shocked him. He came back to the feeling of a strong beat under his fingers. He spread them unconsciously and felt the pitted skin. John moved his hand a little, waited, and shifted it another way. “Can you feel it?”

He could. Underneath the exit wound was another wound. It was irregularly shaped, four streaks coming from a larger area that covered the ball of John’s shoulder, before another streak went towards his shoulder blade… his hand stilled. “Is this….?”

John nodded. “Yeah. When your soulmate dies, all the colour leaves your mark like it’s been burned away. It causes a lot of pain, which is why older soul mate couples tend to pass on at the same time – the strain is too much for their hearts to handle.”

I’ll burn the heart out of you!

Sherlock’s hand gripped tighter. “John…”

A hand covered his. Another slipped under his arm and around his shoulders. He was tugged forward to collapse against John’s chest. His heartbeat was so loud.

“I never denied being your soul mate Sherlock,” John whispered, “Because I don’t believe that a person has one soul mate in their life. I don’t believe that you need a mark to tell you how important you are to a person – you don’t need a mark to love them.” When Sherlock shuddered, John held on tighter. “Just because your mark pulls you to Moriarty, doesn’t mean that you’re anything like him. He is a deranged psychopath, and you are going to catch him. You’re going to beat him. And I’m going to be right there with you.”

“Why?” Sherlock breathed. “You’ve already been hurt because of me – you were kidnapped –”

“Because you’re Sherlock. You’re this beautiful, impossible man who saw a broken soldier and showed him that there was more to life than dingy bedsits and flu season. You saw me Sherlock, and I’d like to think that I see you.”

Sherlock squeezed his eyes closed. Slowly, his arm wrapped around John’s waist, and he shifted to sit more comfortably in the other man’s lap. His head lifted enough to sit on John’s shoulder, and John tilted his head to press his lips into dirty curls.

“Just rest Sherlock. We can deal with everything else in the morning.”

“Thank you… John…”

Sherlock Holmes didn’t believe in soulmates. But he believed in John Watson. And that was kinda the same thing

#WritersMonth2020 #day five soulmates #sherlock #sherlock holmes #john watson #james moriarty #sorry not sorry #title from wicked the musical #all credit to the creators for the pool scene #kinda asexual sherlock #i may be projecting

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angels-heal-u-blog · 4 years

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Reiki in Delhi

Reiki (articulated beam kee) is a delicate, all encompassing, hands-on recuperating procedure valuable for stress the board, profound unwinding and self-improvement. It was established by Mikao Usui in Japan in 1914, and is currently drilled and instructed in each nation of the world, including significant emergency clinics and malignancy focuses. Reiki depends on the rules that: 1) Everything alive is comprised of vitality. Reiki shares have been a fundamental piece of my profound Reiki in Delhi turn of events and sincerely I don't have the foggiest idea where I would be today on the off chance that it were not for them. I met similarly invested individuals, extended my psyche to new skylines, held nothing back from unequivocal love, found out about different vitality mending strategies that go with Reiki, learned cool tips to utilize when giving a treatment, and how to improve my self-recuperating. The Reiki specialty of recuperating has been practically speaking for a considerable length of time. Re-propelled in Japan, the genuine cause of Reiki has been the wellspring of discussion for such a long time now. Be that as it may, one thing is without a doubt, Reiki as the principle recuperating medium or banded together with different kinds of treatment speeds up the mending procedure and loosens up the body and brain in a manner no other mending practice can.

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Reiki is a specialty of mending which started in Japan. It is accepted that this craftsmanship started in Tibet when Tibetan priests contemplated energies and built up an arrangement of sounds and images for all inclusive recuperating energies. Over some undefined time frame, this craftsmanship was lost. Around the last part of the 1800s, Dr. Mikao Usui, a Japanese Christian instructor in Kyoto, Japan, ventured out to the United States and India looking for this recuperating aptitude. In the wake of contemplating the first Buddhist Holy Scriptures in Sanskrit, he rediscovered the insight of Reiki recuperating and came back to Japan. In this manner, the study Reiki Treatment Delhi of Reiki that advanced in Tibet quite a while in the past was followed back and created in Japan. There has been a lot of discussion about Reiki and disarray has come to fruition because of hypothesis being passed on as truth. Indeed, even the history that was at first educated all through Western Reiki has since been questioned and in certain angles disproven. This arrangement of articles composed by a Reiki ace of seven years and vitality Shaman is intended to carry some clearness and edification to the subject. The concentration for the primary article is to diagram the fundamentals of Reiki and the meaning of Reiki. This will enable other invested individuals to comprehend the establishment from which the writer is working for the motivations behind these articles. Reiki is an elective recuperating practice, which is unequivocally expected to have started in Japan hundreds of years back. It is likewise accepted Reiki Treatment Delhi that this mending framework was first found by one Buddhist specialist known as Mikao Usui, in the start of the twentieth century. Reiki is a piece of two words, Rei and Ki. Rei implies widespread, while Ki implies a progression of life or vitality. Reiki preparing is currently accessible to everybody paying little mind to your degree of past reiki experience, or where on the planet you live! Reiki, the Universal Life Force Energy that goes through each and every living being, is accessible to us all for the recuperating and development of ourselves as well as other people. Presently, it is simpler than at any other time to take advantage of you.

#Reiki Treatment Delhi #Reiki in Delhi #Reiki healing Delhi #Reiki expert Delhi #Reiki center Delhi

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imagine-loki · 5 years

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Wedded Bliss

TITLE: Wedded Bliss CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 39 AUTHOR: MaliceManaged ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Odin determined to find Loki a wife in a misguided, though somewhat well-intentioned attempt to ‘mellow him’. … RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS: Still alive! Sorry about the delay; I’ve been very busy and stressed, then just tired af. It happens.

_______________________________

Loki seemed thoughtful as he escorted Edith to her chambers when they finally decided to call it a night, though instead of leaving her at the door, he followed her inside, earning a questioning look. “What did Munnin want, back there?”

“How should I know? I don’t speak bird,” Edith giggled.

Loki shook his head. “When you touched him, did you not feel anything?”

“Well, yeah, but doesn’t that just happen with them?”

“Not without reason; it is a byproduct of the manner in which they communicate,” he explained, “Munnin communicates in images; did you see anything?”

“Not really.”

Loki frowned a bit. “What happened earlier, with the wine? I know you were not drunk, nor are you clumsy enough to knock that cup down by accident.”

“Oh, that. I’m pretty sure someone was trying to poison me. Probably the same person I felt watching me most of the night.”

He blinked. “You… And when were you planning on telling me this??”

“I dunno; tomorrow?” she shrugged, “I could maybe use a hand narrowing down a suspect list.”

“‘Narrowing down a’… Edith, you should have told me immediately,” he scolded.

“I’m not helpless, Loki,” she replied sharply.

“I know you are not, but this is not Midgard. There are some things here you have no defence for; I do, and you are, ultimately, my responsibility.” He held up a hand to forestall the retort her expression showed was coming. “I am not trying to dismiss your abilities. You are a royal guest and, technically, my betrothed; if something happens to you, it would have far more consequences than hurting me and upsetting my entire immediate family. What does it say that Asgard cannot even protect her guests in her own palace? You need to tell me these things.”

Edith frowned, not having thought of it from that angle. “Fine. I’m sorry,” she said somewhat grudgingly, then thought for a moment before adding, “Calling for backup is a last resort.”

“Edith-”

She shook her head, silencing him. “Rule four: ‘Calling for backup is a last resort’,” she explained, “The more people involved, the harder things are to contain.”

He walked up to her and placed his hands on her waist. “I can respect that, but if you cannot trust me to work from the shadows without detection…”

She ran her hands up his arms and laced her fingers behind his neck. “That is an excellent point,” she said leaning up on her toes to peck his lips, “Won’t happen again.”

He smiled slightly before stepping back. “If Munnin was not showing you anything, he may have been taking something instead,” he reasoned.

Edith hummed. “Probably the face of the guy who served me the tainted wine.”

“You remember what he looked like?”

“Of course; I remember what most of the staff I’ve met look like,” she said as though it should be obvious. She arched an eyebrow at his slightly surprised expression and crossed her arms at her chest. “Mom taught me to never dismiss the staff anywhere. They’re people, just like anyone else, they deserve that much courtesy at least.”

Loki had the presence of mind to look a bit chastened; given what he knew of Edith and what she had told him of her mother, he shouldn’t have been too surprised. “Well, it is a good thing, then,” he said, clearing his throat a bit, “He’ll be easier to find that way.”

“Yeah, well, that’s tomorrow’s problem, maybe; right now I just want out of this dress and into my bed,” she said, trying to stifle a yawn, “Mind giving me a hand? I didn’t expect to be back so late, and I told Anna and Gunhilda not to wait up.”

He chuckled as he motioned for her to turn around. “Those two will likely miss you when we go back to the tower,” he said as he began unlacing and unclasping where needed, “About the rest of those rules…”

“Nope.”

“Worth a try.”

****

In the morning, after breakfast, Edith found herself scolded by Odin, Frigga, and even Thor for not telling anyone of her suspicions the night before, to which she half apologised and explained again how she’d been taught to try to deal with problems herself before involving anyone else. Odin confirmed that Munnin had indeed gotten Edith’s memory of the man who’d delivered the poisoned wine, to Thor and Frigga’s surprise, as they hadn’t even thought it possible for the ravens to have a connection like the Allfather’s with anyone else.

“So, who do you think could want you dead?” Thor asked.

Edith snorted. “You mean besides pretty much every Lady of this court?”

“Now that’s not entirely fair; some of them merely want to see you suffer,” Loki chimed in cheerily, causing Edith to choke on the sip she’d just taken.

“Loki,” Frigga scolded, though the smile on her face quite ruined the effect. He merely grinned and she shook her head with a slight laugh before returning to the matter at hand. “I would discount Lady Agneta; she is a spoiled brat and a dedicated gossip monger, but she does not have the spine for assassination. Same with Ladies Inge, Sigrunn and the rest.” She thought for a moment. “Well, perhaps excluding Erna, what with the carriage incident.”

“There’s also the chance it is someone else entirely,” Loki added, “Quite a few of the Counsel are not too happy with our betrothal.”

“Grumbling is as far as they go,” Odin dismissed, “They know better.”

Loki frowned but said nothing in reply. “In any case, our return to Midgard today will either delay or hasten the search for the guilty party.”

“But find them, we will,” Frigga said resolutely.

They discussed things a while longer, getting as much detail on the events as Edith could provide, then dispersed to their various duties. Thor followed after Edith and Loki to the former’s chambers, wanting as much time with them as he could get in before they left once more.

“You will return for mother’s Nameday, won’t you?”

Loki gave him a Look. “Of course we will; I rather like living.”

Thor raised his hands in surrender. “Only making sure.”

“Geez, Thor; keep this up and we’ll start to think you miss us,” Edith teased as she packed her things.

“I did not even notice you were gone,” Thor scoffed.

“Naturally,” Loki drawled.

The three exchanged looks then burst out laughing. Once Edith was done packing, and had bid farewell to Anna and Gunhilda – who, as Loki had predicted, were more than a little sad to see her go – the trio went in search of Sif and the Warriors Three, who tried to convince them to stay a bit longer until Edith explained the team’s tradition of spending New Year’s Eve together. They then rode to the Observatory, where Heimdall awaited them his usual stoic self.

“Well, I suppose this is farewell for now,” Thor said, clasping Loki’s shoulder, “It was nice to have you home again, brother.”

“Norns; you are not to start crying now, are you?” Loki asked with mock horror, causing Thor to shove him back, making him laugh. “We will be back soon enough.”

“And you know, visits work both ways…” Edith added pointedly, earning a slightly embarrassed laugh.

“True enough,” Thor admitted, “I will make the time.”

“Damn right, you will,” Edith retorted, standing on her toes to hug him, earning a chuckle from the god as he leaned down to make it easier for her and hugging her back. With a final wave to Heimdall, who nodded in return with a small smile, the pair were sent on their way back, Edith stumbling a bit as they landed. “Yep, still hate that.”

Loki chuckled, helping her find stable footing again. “It really does get easier with time.”

“Liar; you just want me to get careless.” That got a laugh. She looked around, noting the lack of a welcoming committee. “Well, either everyone’s out…”

“Or we are about to be ambushed,” Loki finished.

They walked inside, keeping their guard up, and asked JARVIS where everyone was, though the AI’s answer was vague at best which told them that Tony was up to something. They first stopped by Edith’s room to drop off her bag then made their way to the common floor and from there to the kitchen, which was were Loki sensed the others were. The moment they walked in a popping sort of sound was heard a split second before what appeared to be a craft store’s worth of green and gold glitter blasted Loki from every direction, with Edith getting quite a bit as well as she was right behind him.

“Surprise!” a highly amused Tony cheered as he and the others popped out from behind the counter, where a large cake with green and black frosting and decorated with fondant replicas of Loki’s helmet sat, “Happy – belated – Nameday! And that is a useful tradition, by the way; hard to end up giving your kid a dumb name if you have to think about it for ten extra days.”

“Tony; getting off track,” Steve interrupted with a roll of his eyes before turning to a bemused Loki, “The glitter was Clint’s idea, by the way.”

“Wow, Cap. Wow.”

“We couldn’t celebrate with you then, so we figured we’d do it now,” Natasha explained with a small smile.

Loki’s bemusement gave way to stunned silence as he looked between them all. He felt Edith lace her fingers with his and looked down at her; with a giggle, she brushed glitter off his face before leaning up to kiss him, earning a few wolf whistles he couldn’t help laughing at.

#Loki #Lover #God of Mischief #Submitted fic #submission #wedded bliss #chapter 39 #malicemanaged

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siverwrites · 7 years

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Dangerous Games Ch.2

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Finally push part 2 out after going over this countless times. It got rather a lot longer than the first chapter, whoops.

He had three days to solve this. Two folders sat on Cabanela’s desk. He’d gone through one – not much he didn’t know already from Gant – no sign of another weapon, nor any other person, and pictures showed a mess he hoped would make more sense once he visited their home.

His hand rested on the autopsy report. For now it was another case, only another case. He flipped it open. His eyes flicked between the written report and the pictures. He felt caught between not looking and not being able to look away.

One shot to the chest. Estimated time of death between 5:30 and 6:00PM. It must have happened when they got home or very shortly afterward.

Loving husband and wife return home. Husband turns around and shoots her. Ha.

Now here was an interesting point: she was shot at an odd angle – higher than he’d expected. What did it mean? Aside from that everything read so simple, so clear and so very wrong.

He closed the file. He hadn’t expected to find much yet anyway. That’s what his investigation was for.

As much as Cabanela wanted to see Jowd now, he decided it would be better to go in armed with as much information as he could gather. That left him their house and Alma. It would be better to see Alma first, get the full idea of her… condition before seeing how it would work in relation to the house’s state.

It would be best to get the worst out of the way first.

The pictures weren’t easy to see, but there was a degree of separation and the facts to focus on. Cabanela knew coming to see her would be more difficult and thought he sufficiently braced himself. His efforts weren’t enough to prepare him for the sight of Alma’s lifeless body laid out on the table.

He bit down on the breath threatening to escape in a gasp and wrenched his gaze away from her pale face to focus on the examiner who stood by, a report in hand and a scowl on his face.

“Simple enough case,” the examiner said coolly. “My report covered it all. I don’t see what there is to bring you down here.” There was a delicate emphasis on ‘you’. Cabanela ignored it.

“Just maaakin’ sure I have all the facts. Her death may have been simple, but the cause isn’t.”

The examiner shrugged. “Doesn’t get much simpler than a gunshot.” He gestured at her chest. “The shot came at an angle from above. The shooter must have stood somewhere higher up or she was on the floor.”

“It was close range?”

“Yep.”

And it happened near the entrance. He could see it clearly and knew well there wasn’t anywhere near enough that provided elevation.

“Is there anything else you can tell me? Anything unusual?”

“I told you all I know. Those are the facts. Do with ‘em what you will.”

“I seee.”

Cabanela’s gaze drifted back to her body and he focused on the bullet hole. No different from any other he’d seen. His mind’s eye supplied images of her knelt down. Forced down? Then what? Jowd would have been with her to see the shooter or to stop them – at least try – but if he had seen why would he paint the target on himself? If he hadn’t, where was he when it happened? The whys and hows loomed as strong as ever.

Why would someone go after them there yet leave Kamila and Jowd alone? Why only Alma? Some form of blackmail? He could only hope Jowd would give him some kind of clue if so.

“Anything else? I have new work here to handle,” the examiner said testily.

“That’s all. I’ll be on my waaay.” I’ll sort this out, Alma. That is a promise.

Cabanela left the room and took a moment to lean against the wall and breathe. Alma… That wasn’t her… that empty shell, that lifeless face... he felt vaguely ill. There was knowing, there were pictures and then there was seeing and he very much wished he could have avoided the latter.

What happened Jowd?

He pushed himself away from the wall. Next step and one he dreaded almost as much.

Cabanela travelled the route to Jowd’s home automatically. He had no thoughts toward what he was doing as he crossed the yard and unlocked their door. It wasn’t until he entered the hall and flipped the light switch that it really sunk in.

An empty house. A place he’d spent so many pleasant times in now felt hollow. Even once Jowd returned it would never be the same again. He forced the thoughts aside. There wasn’t time for this.

He wasn’t sure what exactly to expect from the pictures. He’d hoped it would make more sense when he saw it all in person, and it did, in a way.

He walked through the room taking in the sight of various birthday decorations mixed with other oddities: streamers, presents, a line of bottles, a box, and party poppers. He was used to random objects in odd places thanks to Kamila’s various activities. Was this another of her contraptions? What was it? Had it worked?

He flipped open the box and was met with the sight of a Cupid figure. He vaguely remembered Alma receiving it, turning it this way and that before she dumped it back in the box with a muttered ‘tacky’, where it remained forgotten. It appeared Kamila found a use for it, whatever that use was.

He stopped as the uncomfortable feeling of the familiar becoming unfamiliar crept over him. Something else was out of place and it took him a moment to realize it was staring him in the face. There was a picture hanging where there shouldn’t be one and most noticeably the absence of the antique gun Jowd kept in its place.

“Wheeere’s your gun?”

He reached up to shift the picture, not really certain what he hoped to find. He was met with blank wall and scorch marks. Were they old or fresh? The gun had hung on the wall since they moved in. He knew their place well, but not this well. He filed it away for further consideration later.

The house was indeed well known to him, possibly better than his own place. He knew all the nooks and crannies and Jowd’s hiding places. He went through them one by one, growing increasingly more frustrated at the sheer amount of nothing he found each time.

The last place he knew of faced him now. It was theoretically only known to Jowd and himself, but he had his suspicions Alma quietly knew of it as well though of course she would never snoop around. He felt a knot of tension at what he might find – one that turned out to be well warranted when he stared at the small wrapped present tucked inside.

Of course. It wasn’t a surprise really. It was Jowd’s spot for her after all. He hadn’t had the chance to give the gift to her. He came to a swift decision and whisked it out and into a deep pocket of his coat. Keep it safe and make sure Jowd got it when he was out to keep or to leave… for her.

Another sweep of the house, a thorough if somewhat baffling search through the remnants of Kamila’s contraption and a dig through Jowd’s paperwork yielded no results.

He left the house, quietly closing the door with a solid little click that felt far too final for his tastes. It wasn’t truly final though, was it? He would see to it that Jowd and Kamila would regain their home soon enough.

He had Jowd’s files and Jowd himself to deal with. Jowd had answers and Cabanela would drill through whatever it was causing him to spew out such nonsense. On that he was most certain.

The interrogation room felt foreign. Not once did Cabanela ever imagine facing off against Jowd here of all places. Jowd sat on one side of the table looking strange and utterly wrong in prison garb. Cabanela hated it already.

“Detective. I didn’t think to see you here,” Jowd said.

‘Detective’? Didn’t think? Didn’t think? What did he think he would do? Ignore all of this? Leave him alone to rot under false charges? Leave him alone while Alma lay dead?

Cabanela remained standing, suddenly feeling too restless to sit. He leaned over the table instead. Everything he thought he might say first fell away to one urgent question.

“What happened?”

“You must have been told or you wouldn’t be here,” Jowd replied calmly. “Why ask a question you already know the answer to?”

“I was tooold a bad story. What really happened?”

“I killed Alma,” he said as though it was the simplest of facts.

Cabanela’s eyes narrowed. It wasn’t unexpected. After all he’d been lying through his teeth up to this point, but to have him throw such a blatant lie right to his face stung.

“Try the truth this time, baby.”

Jowd shook his head. “You’re a man of many talents,” he said lightly. “Changing what already happened with misplaced denial isn’t one of them.”

Cabanela straightened and loosened up. Play it friendly. If Jowd was going to play this game he’d play too. “Fine, fiiine, how about this? Where’s that old gun of yours?”

“We removed it around a week ago.” He shrugged. “Kamila’s at that age and especially curious.”

“Yeah? And where is it? I went through your house and it wasn’t there.”

“We got rid of it.”

“Gettin’ sick of the lies, my friend.”

Although, he had a feeling there was a seed of truth there, but why? Jowd only shrugged.

“There were scorch marks behind the frame,” Cabanela tried.

“Your point being?”

“Findin’ it a bit odd is all. How looong have they been around?”

Jowd shrugged. “I really couldn’t say. Alma is… was always strategic in placing decorations. I hardly think you’re here to ask about our décor.”

“You were always the thorough one! Just followin’ your footsteps.”

“If this is all you have, I think we’re done here,” Jowd said.

“Nooot even close, baby.”

“Then do you mind hurrying this along? I’m getting tired.”

“I’d end it riiight here if you told me the truth.”

“If you keep denying the truth it seems we’ll be stuck here for a while. Is that offer for coffee still available?”

Cabanela ignored the question to ask his own. “What was goin’ on between you and Alma?”

“It was nothing.”

Cabanela’s fists clenched. “She’s dead, Jowd. Riiight after you two were actin’ squirrelly. Don’t tell me that was a coincidence.”

Try as he might Jowd couldn’t quite conceal the look of pain, though his voice was as calm as ever. “I’m well aware. I was there after all. There’s nothing more I can tell you.”

“So, that’s it? You’re going to let her killer walk free?”

“Hardly. I’m here after all, aren’t I?”

Gods above, he couldn’t bring himself to dignify that one with an answer. “What about Kamila, hmm? Happy just leavin’ her behind? Mother dead. Father rotting away in jail?”

“She’s better off without me. I did take her mother after all.”

And me? Jowd was the one person he most wanted to see, the one person who would shed some light on this disaster. They’d work things out between them. He would take care of everything if Jowd would give him something, anything. He tried to find hidden meaning in his words, watched him for any kind of clue in expression or movement. He may as well have watched a brick.

He tried a different tact.

“Alma’s funeral is soon. I shouldn’t be there alone. We don’t have much time, but I can get…”

“I have no place there,” Jowd interrupted.

Cabanela shook his head and with great effort managed not to yell. He planted his hands on the table, tendons standing out starkly. “Why?” he demanded. “Why are you doing this?”

“This is my punishment. What else is a murderer to do?”

Cabanela circled around the table and bent over him, one hand placed on the table and the other on Jowd’s chair back. This close it was hard to resist throwing a punch or hugging him, maybe one then the other.

“This is me, Jowd,” he hissed. “Maybe you can’t talk openly, but you can give me something. Anything.”

Jowd stared up at him. “There’s nothing to give, detective. Let it go.”

Cabanela’s hand slipped from the chair to grip Jowd’s shoulder. He searched his face and found nothing beyond an impassive stare.

“Detective, is it? And what about friend?” he asked softly.

Jowd cocked his head and a mocking smile crossed his face. “I think you can choose your friends more wisely than this, no?”

“I knooow exactly who I chose.” Cabanela abruptly straightened and gestured for a guard. “If you won’t help me, I’ll solve it myself.”

“You have a bright career ahead of you. Focus on that. Don’t waste it on a closed case.”

Cabanela turned on his heel as the guard came to escort Jowd away.

Closed case. Nation's so called top detective ought to know better than that. If he thought to deter him that was his mistake. He always relished a challenge.

It was a challenge proving to be more difficult than he ever anticipated. He'd enjoy it if the stakes weren't so high. Cabanela leaned back in his seat and stared unseeingly. It was the last night. His time limit was almost up and he felt no closer than he had at the start. His mug, empty, went unnoticed as did the slowly quietening station and the occasional ringing of phones.

Alma: no answers. Their home: no answers. Jowd’s files: nothing stood out. Jowd: worse than useless.

What was he missing?

Why was Jowd doing this?

What did the missing gun mean? That felt important, but where was it? It was there last time he visited; he was certain of it. This wasn’t coincidence.

What was going on between Jowd and Alma? Was that coincidence? Ha, take a wiiild guess.

Most frustratingly why didn’t Jowd say anything? What was the point?

Pieces and more pieces. What were the connections? What did they all add up to?

“Cabsy, my boy!” Chief Gant’s voice wrenched him back into the present. “What are you still doing here? We can’t always be paying overtime you know,” he chuckled.

“Guess I just lost traaack of time, Chief.” And that was as much a lie as all the nonsense that poured out of Jowd’s mouth. He was acutely aware of the time and how little there was of it left.

“Get out of here and get some rest. Go for a swim! You look in need of some unwinding. You’ve had quite the busy three days.”

Three days that weren’t over just yet. “On my waaay now.”

Cabanela gathered his things and with a wave from Gant left.

The kitchen table was covered in a spread of papers. The tick tock of Cabanela’s clock rang loud in his ears, counting down the hours until his time limit was up. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Three days should have been more than enough for something so obviously false. The same questions kept circling around his brain in endless repetition that made him want to slam his head against a wall: what did he miss? Why did Jowd take the fall? Why why why?

He glanced at his written report left lying at the end of his table, awaiting the further revisions and additions that would lead to a conclusive end, or at the very least, more time.

He reached for his – was it his second or third coffee – while reading over the report of the investigation yet again. Everything fit, fit perfectly in a lie that couldn’t be clearer.

“What did you dooo, Jowd?”

He pulled in the autopsy report. Strange how numb he’d gotten to seeing her images. The angle. Was there a connection to the missing gun? It would be in a good location but how was that possible? Why? What did it mean? Something was missing in his picture and where was the damned thing anyway?

He unfolded off the chair. She wasn’t going to be happy, but he was running out of options. If there was even a slim chance he’d take it. He dialled the number and waited through several rings before Lynne’s voice sounded over the line, sleepy and as predicted, grumpy.

“Hello? If this is some kind of joke I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Hey baby, it’s me.”

A pause and the grumpiness faded to confusion. “Cabanela? What is it? Did something happen?”

“I was just wonderin’ if Kamila’s told you anything more. Let slip any liiittle thing?”

“No… she hasn’t talked much since she came here and I wasn’t about to ask. You saw what happened last time. …Are you investigating Detective Jowd?”

“Just workin’ on getting all the facts straight.”

The hope in her voice was both appreciated and painful. “And he’ll be proven innocent, right?”

“That’s for the courts to decide.”

“Yeah, but if they have the evidence to show he didn’t do it..!”

“That is the ideeea. You’re sure Kamila hasn’t said anything?”

“Hmm…” a long pause before she continued sounding worried again, “No I’m sorry, I can’t think of anything.”

“Don’t worry about it, baby. I’ll let you get back to bed.”

“I’ll call right away if anything comes up. Good luck!”

“Good night, baby.”

Cabanela hung up with a scowl. It was a long shot, but he hadn’t been able to keep from hoping that there might have been something no matter how small. Something that would reward that optimism of Lynne’s and their shared hope.

He pinched the space between his eyes before glancing at the clock. It was going on 2:00AM. There was still time.

3:00AM - another coffee down. Refill the pot. There was time. He stared at his scrawled notes and attempts at connections. It worked for Jowd, didn’t it? His ink spelled slow useless facts before he tossed the pen aside.

4:00AM - his half empty mug and a half-eaten donut sat forgotten while he paced his kitchen.

5:00AM saw him leaning in his seat, head tilted over the back, staring at the ceiling trying to find a break in the endless mental circles.

6:00AM – Cabanela flung himself out of his chair. Another sweep of Jowd’s house was in order. Maybe he had somehow missed something. If he could find anything, just one piece of evidence to refute this he could gain more time.

7:00AM – another circuit around the house. Ignore Jowd’s clock that seemed to taunt him with every tick.

7:30AM – he had to get to work. How long could he stall his meeting with Gant?

8:00AM – he entered the station quietly and went straight to the evidence room. Jowd’s gun. It looked so out of place here. Fingerprints. There was nothing new, nothing that he hadn’t gone over too many times already.

8:40AM “Cabanela?” Maggey Byrde peered through the evidence room door. “There you are. The Chief wants you in his office.”

8:50AM - Gant’s door loomed over him. He was too late. Could he drag out more time? Surely the Chief had to agree this wasn’t right, wasn’t Jowd. This wasn’t justice. He knocked and entered.

“Ah there you are,” Gant said. “Sit down, Detective. We have plenty to discuss. Firstly, how did your investigation go?”

He was pinned to the chair now and out of ways to stall. He slid his report across the desk, the first incomplete report he’d ever submitted.

Gant took it and read it over in silence. “What a pity,” he finally said.

“I know there’s nothing exactly conclusive, but I knooow there’s more to it. The missing gun means something and Jowd’s hidin’ some secret. A little more time and…”

“No can do, Cabsy my boy. I gave you what I could. I told you three days and those three days are up.”

Cabanela opened his mouth to protest, but Gant interrupted him.

“I know he was your friend, but that doesn’t change the facts. This one’s as good as closed. It’s up to the lawyers and the judge now. Let it go.” Gant sighed. “Perhaps he wasn’t the man any of us thought.”

Let it go, let it go. Cabanela was getting heartily sick of those three little words. He shot up, sending his chair toppling back. He bent over Gant’s desk. “No! I know who he is and it’s not this. You know this can’t be right.”

“I know the evidence. It’ll be a sorry day when we deny that and admissions of guilt from the accused himself!”

Cabanela slammed both hands on his desk. “He’s lying!” How could no one see this? “We can’t let Alma’s killer walk free!”

Gant gave him a stern frown. “I’ve indulged you and I’ve been patient,” he scolded. “Now it’s time to move on.”

Cabanela glared. He knew he was treading dangerous ground, yet couldn’t bring himself to care. It wasn’t over. It was nowhere near over and anyone who thought otherwise clearly lacked anything resembling any kind of sense.

“Which brings me to my next point,” Gant continued, his expression and voice taking on a softer tone. “We lost two of our own, but you lost two friends. I’m granting you paid leave during and after the funeral starting today.”

Cabanela felt like he’d been hit with a wave of ice water that stole his breath and left him rigid. The funeral… Of course he knew it was coming, but hearing it said so simply… He focused so much on Jowd’s case he left no room for other thoughts. Somehow if he proved Jowd’s innocence everything else would follow. It wouldn’t bring her back of course, but things would be less wrong. They’d get through it somehow. The prospect of being left to face her death and his incarceration without the distraction of work was hardly an appealing notion.

“That’s not necessary.”

“Nonsense! You’re a hard worker, an excellent investigator, always here. Why, I have no idea when you were last away. I greatly appreciate that. However, you need time to process and I need you with your head on straight. Which,” he added with a pointed stare at Cabanela’s hands still planted on his desk, “is clearly not the case right now.”

On the other hand he didn’t have to sit and brood. If he had time away from the station there was nothing to stop him from pursuing his own investigations. He straightened and settled into a look of complete neutrality. “I’ll take that time.”

Gant smiled. “Glad to hear it!” He rose to move around his desk and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You’re one of our best and there’ll be plenty of work waiting for you on your return, so you rest up and take the time you need.”

“Yes, Chief.”

It was a wonder the couch hadn’t broken under the sheer impact it underwent when a furious Cabanela flung himself at it.

Only a few days. It seemed hardly a time limit at all. It was such a preposterous notion he was assured of finding answers. Clearly some large mistake was made and he’d drag it into the light. What slipped past him? How did he allow this?

He found no answers, none he liked and they were no answers at all. All he got were more questions, baffling, infuriating questions.

What did you get wrapped up in, Jowd? There was no reason for her to be killed… What did both of you get into? Why won’t you talk to me? If something was going on why didn’t you talk to me?

The couch didn’t suffer his weight for long as he launched himself back to his feet to pace the small room, shooting glares and pleading looks in turn at the pictures on his shelf.

She’s dead. Dead and you’ve locked yourself away. Left me to clean up your mess alone. Damn you. You should be here.

He stopped dead in the middle of the room, rage burning out under the wave of grief. She was gone. She was dead. He was gone, taking the blame for reasons only he knew. He told him nothing. Nothing...

Cabanela sunk to the floor. His fingers dug into the carpet. They should be facing this together. Everything locked behind that damn passive smile, hidden behind shielded eyes. There was a secret here. The case may be seen as good as closed, but what did that even mean? A load of rubbish. What was he to do against that? Solve it by himself was what. This case was his.

Did you really think I’d leave this be, my friend? I thought you knew me better than that.

The next several days loomed ahead with Jowd’s trial and Alma’s funeral amongst the slow blur of research and investigation, unwanted preparations and an unfamiliar sense of dread.

He avoided the trial. There was no point engaging in such a farce and farce it was. From what he gathered it was hardly a trial at all thanks in no small part to Jowd’s stubborn admissions of guilt. Shame on the court for being taken in by such an obvious lie. Well, he wasn’t about to let Jowd get away with it.

The funeral, the funeral was not something he could avoid. Cabanela awoke early on the day, after a late and broken night, to weak sunlight seeping through his curtains. He dragged himself up and paused by the window. It looked to be a sunny day. Not entirely fitting for such an occasion, was it? Except, it was her day and she would appreciate it. She always liked the sun best.

He moved through his morning routine in a daze, going through the motions until he found himself frozen in front of his wardrobe, staring at his dress uniform: an interruption in his patterns. Was it only seconds or longer that passed before he reached out mechanically to take it?

He shifted uncomfortably in front of his mirror in a motion that seemed far too reminiscent of Jowd. The memory of Jowd in his wedding suit washed over him in a wave that left him breathless. A far happier occasion. He remembered his amusement at Jowd’s grumbles between stunned disbelief and joy and his own lightness compared to Jowd’s look of being trapped. Why, I can hardly beliiieve my eyes, but you’re lookin’ good, baby. Loosen up!

Now he was the one to feel unusually constricted.

How did it all come to this?

Sorry, baby. This day can’t end soon enough.

The funeral seemed to drone on endlessly.

A good woman. A good cop. Mother, friend. Will be sorely missed, etc, etc, meaningless empty words.

He let his attention wander to settle on Lynne and Kamila. Kamila sat close to Lynne who had an arm around her. Tears ran silently down her face. Jowd’s absence was acutely felt. The thread of anger that carried Cabanela through the past several days tightened. Whoever caused this would pay.

After what felt like an interminable timespan it finally came to a close and the guests trickled away bit by bit. He saw Lynne and Kamila off: the girl clung to Lynne, mostly stared at her feet and hardly said a word. Cabanela could relate.

Now he stood alone in front of a fresh grave that shouldn’t exist.

“Cabanela.”

He looked up briefly to see Gant standing close. How long had he been standing here? He hadn’t even noticed his approach. “Chief.”

“Come on now. Let me buy you a drink in her honour.”

Her honour... She was down there. Buried beneath the earth. Gone. He wouldn’t see that smile that lit her whole face again or hear her teases. Dancing partner, partner against Jowd when he was being difficult. Her laugher that rang like a bell until she completely lost it to gasps and snorts that only made her laugh more. Her terrible jokes to rival Jowd’s. Her love and cleverness and good sense and…

“Cabanela,” Gant repeated.

“Sure, Chief.” The words came out automatically and dull.

Gant put an arm around his shoulders and with a firm, but gentle motion turned him away from the grave.

They took a small table off to the side. The low murmur of voices and the clinks of dishes throughout the pub sounded like a meaningless drone to Cabanela’s ears. He only snapped back to attention when Gant set down a glass of wine for each of them. He raised his in a toast.

“To Alma. May she rest in peace and may the gods look after her soul.”

“To Alma,” Cabanela echoed.

“A sorry day indeed,” Gant said with a shake of his head. “Now this is completely off the record.” He gave a small chuckle. “As Chief I shouldn’t really pick favourites – certainly not make them known! But you three, well, let’s just say it was hard not to. She will be missed. What a terrible disappointment it was to see Jowd come to this.”

How hard would one need to grip a glass to break it? Cabanela felt close to finding out.

“At least we still have you!” Gant said. “I hope we don’t see a change in your work.”

Cabanela forced his hand to relax. “You’ll only see better,” he said. Anything to give him a leg up and keep him in good standing while pursuing this – an act he knew bore risks. Besides, as much as he was angry with Gant for not letting him continue, keeping in his good favour could only be of benefit.

Gant clapped. “Good, good! That’s the kind of attitude I like to see. And know that I’m here for you. If there’s anything you need from me, don’t hesitate to ask.”

You could let me continue this investigation. Admit that Jowd didn’t do it. Let me end this properly. But, you made your point clear there, didn’t you?

“Can’t saaay there is.”

“Very well. As long as you know that offer stands!” He eyed Cabanela’s now empty glass. “Let me buy you another drink.”

A beer replaced the wine glass. And another replaced the first.

Gant watched him closely. “How have you been holding up these past few days?”

Cabanela stared into his now half-empty glass. What a pointless question, one worth nothing more than to be waved away.

“Fine, fiiine.”

“Now, now. There’s no need to force a strong front with me. This would be a difficult time for anyone.”

Another beer was placed in front of him.

“I’m not forcin’ anything… I,” he paused. There was so much to focus on as was. There was no point in focusing on her death. There was no point in lamenting Jowd’s absence when he could instead do everything in his power to change that. There was no point in dwelling on the persistent hollow feeling or the long nights when sleep didn’t come despite his tiredness and…

“Of course I miss them, but there are other things to focus on.”

“Oh? At a time like this?”

Damn.

“Life,” Cabanela said hurriedly. “And her good meeemory. Thinkin’… of what we can do to avoid another case like Jowd. I can’t…”

Gant raised an eyebrow. Cabanela drained half his glass before continuing, ignoring the feeling that his lies were getting dangerously out of control. Stop it all here. He couldn’t risk a halt. He couldn’t risk more barriers.

“I can’t go through another betrayal.” The words were bitter and he drowned it with the other half of his drink.

Gant gave him a sympathetic look and another full glass was set down. “Of course… I’m sorry. I had high hopes for him, but of course partnership, friendship is another matter entirely. Do be careful it doesn’t cloud your judgement.”

Cabanela reached for the beer and stopped, his hand lingering over it before he drew back. He’d drunk too much as was and a loose tongue here wasn’t going to do him any favours. Everything looked overly bright and fuzzy at the edges. The world sparkled and blurred before he realized he was looking at it through tears. He blinked them back.

“I think it’s tiiime I went home,” he said. “But thanks for this.” He made a wide gesture in an effort to cover his failing control, misjudged his distance and knocked over the glass. It tumbled off the table and shattered into a spread of glass and beer.

Cabanela stared at it blankly before an uncontrollable bubble of laughter welled up. Of course, of course! Everything else had fallen apart and wasn’t this just a peeerfect picture?

Gant surveyed him over his glasses. “I think you’re right. Go outside and meet me at the car. I’ll take care of things here and take you home.”

His laughter faded. Trapped in this state in a car with Gant was not an activity Cabanela wanted anything to do with. “No neeed. I can make it home myself.”

“No, I feel somewhat responsible for this. I’d feel better knowing you made it safely. Go on now.”

Cabanela left the building and made it to the car with only one stumble, cursing his inability to hold his alcohol and cursing the strong stuff the pub served, and the sunlight that stabbed at his eyes and the fog trying to descend around his brain and the whole damn situation and everything leading up to this.

Why was she dead?

What was the mystery behind Jowd’s actions? Jowd, Jowd, Jowd.

Why oh why did he keep drinking those drinks?

And why was he standing at this car and not just leaving? He could. He could just leave. It’s not like this was an order. He was out of work! What were orders? Besides, it wasn’t as though he was that unsteady. That much ought to be clear, thaaank you very much.

“All right.” Gant’s voice once again dragged him into the present. What a place to be. “Let’s get you home, shall we?”

So much for that. “S’ppooose so.”

Cabanela stared out the window, not paying much attention to the bits of idle useless chatter coming from Gant. Cars. What was there to like? Small, cramped, stunk. He tugged at his collar in an attempt to loosen it. Add too warm as well or maybe that was only this gods-forsaken uniform. Everything slid by in a dizzying blur. Oh of course Jowd’s wasn’t so bad. Getting stopped by traffic: add that to the list. All right, so Jowd’s car wasn’t exactly pretty or stylish, but it had its comforts. Gant’s somehow seemed smaller despite its larger size. Or perhaps it was Gant’s presence that made it seem so. Did the man ever stop talking?

His stomach churned uncomfortably. Car sickness too. Never mind the beers. Never mind that he was always fine with Jowd, wasn’t he? Nearly. Close enough. Clearly the car’s fault.

“Here we are,” Gant said and Cabanela realized they’d come to a stop in front of his place.

Well that was fine. Good really, even as he felt a mixture of relief at being able to get out and disgruntlement at the halt to his growing list of grievances.

“Maybe sleep those drinks off, hm?” Gant said, eyeing him.

Cabanela only grunted in reply. His stomach was definitely not happy. Well, there wasn’t a whole lot to be happy about, was there?

He stepped out of the car, stumbled, attempted to disguise it with a twirl that was definitely a mistake as it sent the world into a spin and he almost lost his balance again. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Gant gave him a look of fatherly concern and a small wave. “Careful now. I’ll see you when you return.”

“Thaaat you will Chief,” Cabanela said with forced cheer while desperately trying to ignore the feeling of his stomach contents attempting to plan their great escape. Damn cars.

Gant only shook his head, radiating sympathy that made Cabanela want to throw something – you’re not helpin’ either, Chief – and turned his attention back to the wheel. Cabanela waited until Gant drove away before picking his way cautiously to his door.

Once inside he sagged, removed the outer layer of his uniform, tossed it over a chair without a second glance and collapsed face first into his couch. Terrible day, terrible feeling, teeerrible time. Sleep never sounded so appealing.

Cabanela awoke much later in the day with a head that felt stuffed full of wool. He groaned into the cushions before rolling off the couch onto his feet. It was dark outside now; he’d been out for some time. He felt steadier if groggy. He winced as his memory threw him back the events of the day. There was still some day left, or some night. He moved to his kitchen.

He gulped down some water, turned on the coffee pot and dropped into his chair at the table where papers from the previous night were still spread out.

There was work to be done.

#ghost trick #ace attorney #gtxaa #cabanela #gant #lynne #jowd #ghost trick fic #writing #dangerous games #cw: alcohol

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fe14festivalofbondstranslations · 7 years

Text

Fire Emblem IF Conquest: Kamui’s Birthday Story Track 8

IT’S FINALLY DONE *dies*

Long story short: Boy’s pretty weak, Niles has way too much fun, Xander and Leo are assholes to Laslow and Odin, Kamui gives an inspirational speech, Leo gains a new retainer, all is forgiven, and Niles just doesn’t want to put his clothes back on.

This track wasn’t actually that difficult, but there were certain parts where I had to work and rework the wording.

ALSO. GUYS. FUDGENUGGETS980825 POSTED VIDEOS WITH THE AUDIO, USING OUR TRANSLATIONS~<3 They’re lovely, so go watch them on Youtube! She also did the first three CDs from other translators too!

TRACK 8: IF YOU ASK ME, NILES LOOKS LIKE A BAD GUY

(CHARACTERS: Felicia, Kamui, Xander, Leo, Niles, Odin, Laslow, Boy, Flora, Charlotte, various Faceless)

(Felicia and Niles look around together in an unfamiliar location. They to be uninjured from the sudden teleportation.)

Felicia: Oh no no no… Where are we?

Niles: It’s a place that I’ve never seen before either.

(A magic circle opens and Kamui drops in from above.)

Kamui: Oof! Felicia! Niles!

Felicia: Lady Kamui! I’m so glad that nothing’s happened to you…!

Niles: You can’t exactly call being teleported here ‘nothing.’

Felicia: Oh, right…

Kamui: This is… nearby the village from earlier! Where did that child go…?

(The growl of multiple Faceless-like creatures as they slowly surround them.)

Kamui: These are… Faceless?!

Boy: Heh! Here I can summon all the monsters that I want. I won’t lose to any of you!

Kamui: Please stop! Why would do such a thing?!

Boy: Shut up! All of you! Kill them right now!

(The Faceless charge forward. Felicia jumps to protect Kamui.)

Felicia: It’s dangerous, Lady Kamui! *SLAP!*

Faceless: GAHRAHAYA!! *WHUMP!*

Felicia: … Eh?

Kamui: Eh?

Niles: Hm?

(DO DOO DO-DO-DO DOOOOOO! Felicia has leveled up! Slappyface power +1!)

Felicia: I-I won! E-Even though I just hit it lightly…

Niles: These things are weak.

Kamui: Very weak…

Felicia: Weak indeed…

(The Faceless around them growl, unsettled. Niles smirks.)

Niles: Heh. So that’s how this is? Then I’ll pierce you through all at once! HIYAH!

(Niles starts to shoot arrows with lightning speed towards all the Faceless, who all proceed to scream and die in agony.)

Boy: AAAAHHH! My monsteeeeers!!!!

Niles: Haha! What an interesting turn of events. Hey, how is it? What kind of sensations do you feel? Hmmm?

Boy: STOOOOOOP!!!!

Niles: *offs another one* HAH! HRAH! MWAHAHAHA!

Kamui: Now I’m starting to feel bad for the enemy…

Felicia: Yes… No matter how I look at it, Niles looks like the bad guy… Not to mention he’s still almost completely naked…

Niles: Whew… And with that, all the monsters are eliminated.

Boy: Ugh… No waaaaay…

Niles: Now then… Naughty children need to be thoroughly punished. *steps towards him* I won’t hold back…

Boy: EEP!

(Quick footsteps as others run towards them.)

Flora: Please wait!

Charlotte: HOLD IT RIGHT THERE YOU PERVERT!

Kamui: Oh! Flora! Charlotte!

Niles: Weren’t you two supposed to have been recruited to the detached force? And do you greet everyone so hurtfully, Charlotte?

Charlotte: Given the situation, you’re a pervert from every angle!

Flora: Um, Lady Kamui, could you please forgive this child for what he did? The truth is that this child’s birthday is also tomorrow!

Kamui: Eh? The same as mine then?

Flora: Yes. But he doesn’t have anyone to celebrate it with… That’s why Charlotte and I have been searching for a suitable gift for him!

Charlotte: *crinkling of paper* Here, kid. I’ll give this to you, so stop crying. Alright?

Boy: This is… a cake?

Flora: Yes. It’s an exquisite berry cake. We were finally able to make it ourselves!

Boy: And you’re giving it to me?

Charlotte: Of course! Happy birthday, kid.

Boy: Eh…?

Flora: Plus, all the people from the village want to say ‘happy birthday’ to you too, you know?

Charlotte: They’re all pretty fond of you, so stop it with the pranks already, okay?

Boy: Yeah… Thank you, miss… And I’m really sorry too.

Felicia: Wow… so that’s how it was…

Niles: Are you going to forgive him, Lady Kamui?

Kamui: It’s fine. It’s not as if he had truly bad intentions.

(The soft clip-clopping of horses in the distance.)

Xander: Good grief. You’re really too soft-hearted.

Leo: Well, that’s just how Kamui is though.

Kamui: Xander! Leo!

(Running footsteps approach as well.)

Laslow: *pant pant* W-Wait! You two are too fast! You might have horses, but we had to run all the way here! Please don’t leave us behind!

Odin: *huff huff* Our lords and masters… really are too cruel!

Kamui: Odin and Laslow too… All of you came to find us?

Laslow: *still panting* Oh. Yeah. Lord Leo tracked that child’s magic and led us here.

Xander: I’ve heard and understood your reasons. But isn’t there something more important that you need to say to us?

Boy: U-Um… Everyone, I’m really sorry for what I did. I was just really lonely, so… I ended up… doing all this… A-And I’ll work hard and earn some money to pay for all the damages I did!

Kamui: That’s okay. We can just return the building to its original shape anyway.

Boy: Huh? But…

Leo: Hmm? Do you feel the need to be punished after all? In that case, I’ll take you under my wing.

Boy: Eh?

Kamui: Leo? What do you mean?

Leo: Once the war has ended, there aren’t going to be a lot of options for one of your caliber.

Boy: What?

Leo: Having such strong magical power at your age is rare. With some proper training, you can probably become an excellent mage.

Boy: But I can’t serve a noble. I’m just a poor village boy…

Leo: *jabs a finger at Niles* This guy is too.

Boy: H-Huh?! This half-naked guy?!

Niles: That’s right.

Leo: He came from a poor background, just like you, but here he is as a retainer to the Royal Family. You should be more concerned about your potential rather than your status.

Boy: I-I see… A retainer to the Royal Family… Wait, then you people are royalty?! *bows low* I-I’m truly sorry for my rudeness! U-Um, I promise I’ll study a lot and become a fantastic mage!

Leo: Yup. That’s the spirit.

Kamui: We’ll do our best to bring an end to the war as well.

Boy: Please do! Please destroy those Hoshidan bastards who killed my father in the war!

Kamui: *sharp intake* … Right. But simply killing isn’t the only way to end a war. Reaching out to them and forgiving them is important too.

Boy: Forgiving them…? I don’t think I can…

Kamui: I know that it may seem impossible to do now. I understand the need for revenge against those who harmed my loved ones… No, I understand the terrible feelings you experience. But doing that will only cause more pain. That’s why understanding is necessary, rather than continuous fighting. Even though that may be even harder to do…

Boy: … Yes… But from now on, I’ll try my best to understand. After all, you and all your friends forgave me for the terrible things I did. *bows* Please, restore peace to our country!

Kamui: Of course!

Xander: I promise this as well.

Boy: Thank you very much! Then, I’ll go back to the village and make my own peace with everyone! *runs back through the forest before calling back* You too, Miss! Happy birthday to you toooooo!!

Kamui: Oh my~! Hee hee hee! How adorable!

Xander: Yes. It would be wonderful if all children in the world could stay so innocent…

Kamui: Thank you for today, everyone. I’m glad you all came to help me. Also, Leo?

Leo: What? Heh. I didn’t really do anything special…

Kamui: Your cape is inside out.

Leo: WHAT?! *turns to check and then unfastens it* Sheesh, why didn’t any of you tell me earlier?!

Xander: Well, we were all in quite a hurry to get here, Leo.

Leo: U-Urggggh…

Everyone: *mass giggling ensues*

Kamui: … AH!!

Leo: *in the middle of fixing his cape* Wha?!

Xander: What’s wrong, Kamui?

Kamui: This is bad! It’s already so late! There’s no time to stand around! Um, I still have some things to prepare, so I’m going to take my leave! Odin, Laslow, Niles, where are the ingredients I asked you for?!

Odin: Eh? Uh, I brought it all with me here in this bag, but…

Kamui: Then please let me take them now! *grabs bag* Also, Xander and Leo, please go back to the Castle!

Leo: EHHHH?!

Xander: W-What about you, Kamui?

Kamui: I’m going to head over to where the detached forces are!

Felicia: Oh! Um, if there’s anything that I can help you with…

Kamui: Then you can come too, Felicia! Everyone else, please go back to the Castle!

Xander: G-Got it… We’ll go back right away.

Laslow: Us too! If we don’t prepare the gift in time…!

Odin: But she just took all of the foodstuff we gathered!

Laslow: Oh!

Niles: Heh. Well, I’m sure that the five of us men will be able to do something together…

Leo: Yeah. More importantly, put on some clothes.

Niles: *seductively* Yes, sir…

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swelldomains · 7 years

Text

Nothing Personal: Why Personalized Search Never Really Arrived (and maybe shouldn`t)

With Google's customized search feature bringing a lawsuit to the Plex earlier this month, it asks the question, ummm what Google personalized search? It resembles the old ABC commercials, I can not see the difference ...

Back in very early 2007 there were many boatloads filled with buzz about Google incorporating a lot more 'individualized' results right into the index, changing on a feature they called 'Google Look Record' by default for many searchers.

The Yoast screenshot reveals some standard statistics list that would create the basis of an individual searcher profile.

A bit later that year Google's over-employed product-name-change board put a brand-new label on boring old 'Google Look History' and also christened it 'Google Web History'. Then they had the rounds to state the name change was to show that indeed, they're spying on us, but for all the appropriate factors, simply to serve us far better as individuals, commercially, and besides, if they just stand outside our open home window as well as look in, is it truly so bad ... you know, if they have the windows?

All of this 2007 customization conjecture was very substantial in the not-much-is-ever-all-that-significant world of Search Engine Optimization. Some feared the skies was dropping, that personalized search would ruin Search Engine Optimization for life, others praised exactly what looked like a rational progress in the development of the best online search engine the world had ever recognized (wow, a lot dramatization because sentence I'm on the edge of my laz-e-boy).

But right here, in 2009, the impact of personalized search has been subtle, if visible at all. Simply some barely apparent distinctions in SERPs, mainly based on whether you're logged right into your Google account or not. And truly, the SERPs kinda simply look like they're the same however with websites you have actually been to before placing much better, or regularly. As late as November 2008 nevertheless, sector heavyweight Bruce Clay forecasted that individualized search results page, search intent based SERPs, would just actually start appearing in the wild over the initial fifty percent of 2009. That's nearly nowish.

The November 08 article is similar to lots of, numerous very early 2007 discussions:

' Position is dead - going forward you're mosting likely to need to check out analytics, measure traffic, bounce rates, action, etc. SEOs will need to ask themselves concerns like:

- Did I obtain the conversion I was after? - Did I really deliver on the pledge of Search Engine Optimization?' - Bruce Clay

Have the past two years been examining time? Are we about to see personalization struck the mainstream? Much more importantly, would that be a good idea for the surfing public? Or is that an unjustified assumption somebody made once and also after that just got championed with meaningless marketing meeting after brainless marketing meeting?

I may not be the initial to presume this concept, as customized search wased initially released by Google more compared to 4 lengthy Web years earlier, however probably the reason they have actually been so sluggish to incorporate it is merely due to the fact that it fails to produce a far better experience for the searcher, or Google Incorporated for that matter.

The conspiracy theory theorist side of me believes that in fact, personalized search might deteriorate Google's brand overall, if it's executed too well.

When individuals most likely to an internet search engine it's because they are trying to find a piece of details, and also they aren't sure where to go to get it. Simple, yeah? The search engine directs them. Offer individuals some credit rating, they understand the search engine is not the keeper of the knowledge, that it's just the key-holder, the gatekeeper, the stay-puft marshmallow man, as well as that the actual web sites behind the Google drape are things that really show you things and entertain you.

Personalized search has the idea built into it that if I have actually used a resource before, and I liked it, I may want to use it once again. This is reasonable - but should it indicate that website is worthy of to turn up regularly or be provided priority in basic when I do a search? If they show up, they are familiar, they are likely to be clicked - however does that mean they were the remarkable source? The idea is a little bit like how the mind works, with often made use of memory traces having the simplest to get to neuron activation degrees, therefore they self reinforce, however often cause just because they're so typically used, causing illusions.

In a fictional typical globe (Oxymoronica!), if a searcher recognizes a certain resource is likely to house the information they seek, it is just in the rare and momentary instance that they can't recall the name or LINK of the target source that they ought to choose to go to an online search engine as well as utilize it to aid their memory. Google has actually so penetrated our minds, instilled itself as the only remedy for any kind of looking online, that even if I know the target domain, yet I don't understand the precise URI, I simply browse Google. On-site search engines usually suck anyhow, right? That is the existing power of Google's syndicate on every idea that relates to search âEUR" but it's not difficult that points could transform, that giant websites like Facebook might educate people to search at the web site level itself, though it stays the exception.

If Google continues to comply with the concept that search personalization is inextricably connected to support of previously discovered resources (which, of training course, they could not, proven with the ability of transforming their minds), then they will certainly be properly reinforcing the branding of other certain resource sites in their SERPS - a few of us searchers have little itsy-bitsy highly prominent minds (oh ... hi), and repeating is the only thing that a brand name needs in order to be remembered. It's nearly inevitable that this will add to a part of customers learning how to go straight to the branded resource, as opposed to through a Google proxy each time. Intuitively the effect may appear to be little, yet little traits matter when you scale like Google.

It might also be risk-free to state (or totally harmful) that searchers, the huge bulk of the moment, intend to use online search engine to locate new resources, which putting simply the opposite before them an increasing number of commonly is going to cause dissatisfaction. The online search engine simply will certainly not appear to be serving its most standard purpose. The more smart the personalization the better? Google will certainly never ever recognize if I seem like a specific angle or viewpoint, which just humans can truly connect with a domain, and so any automated attempts they make at going from a semantic analysis of my query, to a certain web site that has a free style beyond matching message will certainly constantly be, at most ideal, a not-extremely-well-educated hunch. Could they think up functional and beneficial means to use the customization information? I 'd be a fool to put anything past Google, yet magic, I do not expect.

In 07, Danny Sullivan theorized that Google desired to rise close as well as relaxing with customer information over time, and search personalization belonged of this parcel, if not an end that the various other individual data collection was a means to.

If traits resurface in 2009, old disputes will come to be brand-new again. Unlike Google's previous statements that the Google Toolbar would not be used to impact ranking results, they disclosed that Toolbar data would certainly be utilized to gather web record info, which would be used to directly impact customized search results, as well as thus rankings. Genuine privacy problems were yielded ... yet then Google quit chatting concerning it, the SERPs barely changed, and SEOs et cetera of the globe obtained back to typical (okay the remainder of the globe never ever really seen).

Beyond privacy problems, will a possibly blind push to personalization on Google's component really damage the searcher encounter? Will it strengthen internet user actions of going straight to their favored resources rather than Google initially? Thanks Google, for reminding me that I such as actual sites a lot more compared to you, as well as if my memory is functioning well, I don't really require you half the time - however by the exact same token, shame on you Google, you've made my browsing encounter much less diverse, as well as you've ended up being less of an egalitarian for my webmaster friends worldwide. Boo.

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