#[hes the head of the chaos department and he put all of these policies into motion]

[tyler-the-destroyer]

H-hey! W-we don't FORCIBLY r-recruit p-people! O-only people who w-want to come a-are allowed i-in, otherwise e-everyone would r-riot! W-we get 6 months paid vacation sp-spread out o-over f-five years, a-and th-there's n-no way to g-get fired u-unless you c-commit murder o-of another employee o-or something. A-and we have o-on-site doctors a-and l-lawyers and e-everything! A-and they like th-their jobs, t-too!

no

[ausetkmt]

In late October 2021, a top U.S. envoy met with Sudanese military commanders and Sudan’s top civilian leader to shore up the country’s precarious transition toward democracy. The generals assured Jeffrey Feltman, then the U.S. special envoy for the Horn of Africa region, that they were committed to the transition and would not seize power. Feltman departed the Sudanese capital of Khartoum for Washington early on the morning of Oct. 25. En route, he received news from Sudan: Hours after he left, those military leaders had arrested the country’s top civilian leaders and carried out a coup.

For the next 18 months, Washington adopted a series of controversial policy measures to both maintain ties with the new military junta and try to push the East African nation back toward a democratic transition. Months of work led to a new political deal that offered, on paper at least, new hope, and some Biden administration officials felt they were tantalizingly close.

But the deal blew up in the eleventh hour as violence erupted across Khartoum last month between forces controlled by the rival generals, Abdel Fattah al-Burhan, who leads the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF), and Mohamed Hamdan “Hemeti” Dagalo, the head of the powerful Rapid Support Forces (RSF) paramilitary group.

The collapse of Sudan’s democratic transition has led to anger and backlash in Washington among diplomats and aid officials, some of whom feel that the Biden administration’s policies empowered the two generals at the center of the crisis, exacerbated tensions between them as they pushed for a political deal, and shunted aside pro-democracy activists in the process.

“Maybe we couldn’t have prevented a conflict,” said one U.S. official who spoke on condition of anonymity. “But it’s like we didn’t even try and beyond that just emboldened Hemeti and Burhan by making repeated empty threats and never following through.”

“And all the while,” the official added, “we let the real pro-democracy players just be cast to the side.”

The conflict between Burhan’s and Hemeti’s forces turned Khartoum overnight into a battle zone that put millions of citizens, as well as U.S. and foreign government personnel, in the crossfire of firefights, airstrikes, and mortar attacks. The fighting has pushed Sudan toward the brink of collapse and undermined, perhaps permanently, a Western-funded project to bring democracy to a country beset by autocracy and conflict for half a century.

People run and walk through the streets in front of an armored personnel carrier as fighting in the Sudanese capital of Khartoum continues between Sudan’s army and paramilitary forces on April 27. AFP via Getty Images

As successive rounds of cease-fires fail, Western officials and analysts increasingly fear that the fighting could lead to a full-scale civil war, bringing a new vacuum of instability and chaos to a region already suffering humanitarian crises and along the strategic Red Sea, through which 10 percent of global trade flows.

“The way things are going, Sudan begins to resemble a massive Somalia of the early 1990s on the Red Sea, a total state breakdown, if the fighting doesn’t stop,” said Alexander Rondos, a former European Union envoy for the Horn of Africa.

Interviews with about two dozen current and former Western officials and Sudanese activists close to the negotiations describe a deeply flawed U.S. policy process on brokering talks in Sudan in the run-up to the conflict, monopolized by a select few officials who shut the rest of the interagency team out of key deliberations and stamped out a growing chorus of dissent over the direction of U.S. Sudan policy.

“From the outset, there was a consistent and willful dismissal of views that questioned whether the U.N. talks would be a recipe for success or for failure,” said one former official familiar with the matter. “Those warnings were ignored, and instead the U.S. built a dream palace of a political process that has now crashed down on the people of Sudan.”

Current and former U.S. officials, many of whom spoke on condition of anonymity, said internal warnings of roiling tensions in Khartoum and a possible conflict were dismissed or ignored in Washington, setting the stage for U.S. government personnel to be trapped amid the fighting in various parts of Khartoum with no advance preparations to move them to safety. In Khartoum, these officials and Sudanese analysts said, the policy was further hampered by an embassy that was for years understaffed and out of its depth, without even an ambassador for much of the crucial period.

A woman inside her house protects her face from tear gas in the Abbasiya neighborhood of Omdurman, Sudan, on Nov. 13, 2021. Organizations called for civil disobedience and a general strike during demonstrations against the military coup. Abdulmonam Eassa/Getty Images

“We seemed to have lost all institutional memory on Sudan,” said Cameron Hudson, a senior associate at the Center for Strategic and International Studies and former State Department official. “These generals have been lying to us for decades. Anybody who has worked on Sudan has seen this stuff play out time and time and time again.”

The U.S. State Department has sharply disputed these characterizations. “U.S. engagement after the October 2021 military takeover was centered on supporting Sudanese civilian actors in a Sudanese-led process to re-establish a civilian-led transitional government,” a State Department spokesperson said in response.

“The United States did not press for any specific deal but tried to build consensus and put pressure on the key actors to reach agreement on a civilian government to restore a democratic transition,” the spokesperson said and added that those efforts included “near constant diplomacy, often working closely with civilians, to defuse tensions between the SAF and RSF that arose multiple times and again emerged in the days before April 15, 2023,” when the fighting began.

Still, for an administration that has made promoting global democracy a centerpiece of its foreign policy, many government officials who spoke to Foreign Policy contended that Sudan could stand as one of the starkest foreign-policy failures, even in the wake of the successful evacuation of all U.S. government personnel and campaign to help U.S. citizens escape the country.

These officials also fear that the crisis could reverberate well beyond Sudan’s borders if the warring sides don’t agree to a viable cease-fire soon, with the risk of rival foreign powers exacerbating the conflict and transforming it into a proxy war.

Interviews with multiple Sudanese activists and civil society leaders, meanwhile, paint the picture of a pro-democracy movement that has completely lost faith in the United States as a beacon for democracy and supporter of Sudan’s own democratic aspirations. Many spoke on condition of anonymity for fear of their safety as fighting continued in Khartoum.

“Either the U.S. and West properly step up or they just need to fuck off because halfhearted steps and empty threats of sanctions, again and again and again, are doing more harm than good,” said one Sudanese person deeply familiar with the internal negotiations. “Our trust in the U.S. is entirely gone.”

Sudanese protesters cheer on arriving to the town of Atbara from Khartoum on Dec. 19, 2019, to celebrate the first anniversary of the uprising that toppled Sudanese dictator Omar al-Bashir. Ashraf Shazly/AFP via Getty Images

After a popular pro-democracy uprising ousted longtime dictator Omar al-Bashir in 2019 and set the stage for Sudan to rejoin the international community after decades as an international pariah, the United States invested countless diplomatic resources and hundreds of millions of dollars in Sudan’s democratic transition.

Sudan seemed poised to be a success story. A popular uprising, led in many ways by Sudanese women, had ousted one of the world’s most notorious dictators. U.S. President Joe Biden in a major U.N. speech in September 2021 denounced the global rise of autocracy and touted Sudan as one of the most compelling contrasts to that trend worldwide after the 2019 revolution. In Sudan, he said, there was proof that “the democratic world is everywhere.”

Just a month later, Burhan and Hemeti orchestrated their coup. Afterward, the Biden administration froze some $700 million in U.S. funds to aid in the democratic transition and, over a year later, issued visa restrictions on “any current or former Sudanese officials or other individuals believed to be responsible for, or complicit in, undermining the democratic transition in Sudan.” The World Bank and International Monetary Fund also froze $6 billion in financial assistance.

But some U.S. diplomats felt that didn’t go far enough and none of those reprisals would directly affect Burhan or Hemeti. A fierce internal debate unfolded. Some officials argued that Washington needed to roll out punishing sanctions against Burhan and Hemeti to bring them to heel and show support for pro-democracy activists. Other officials, including Assistant Secretary of State Molly Phee—Biden’s top envoy for Africa—argued that sanctions wouldn’t be effective and might undermine U.S. influence with Burhan and Hemeti as they sought to bring them back to the negotiating table.

“There was the right thing to do, to show the Sudanese people we were all-in on democracy, to punish Hemeti and Burhan for this blatant coup, and then there was the wrong and slightly more expedient thing to do, [to] just keep working with them after some stern finger-wagging,” said one U.S. official involved in the process. “We chose door number two.”

Jeffrey Feltman, the U.S. special envoy for the Horn of Africa, leaves after meeting with Sudanese Prime Minister Abdalla Hamdok in Khartoum on Sept. 29, 2021. Ashraf Shazly/AFP via Getty Images

Feltman, the former U.S. envoy, said he advocated for sanctioning Burhan and Hemeti during his time in government but in hindsight wasn’t sure if it could have prevented the conflict. “Do I think sanctions ultimately would have prevented them from eventually taking 46 million people of Sudan hostage because of their personal lusts for power? No.”

There were other complicating issues as well. Senior Biden administration officials working on Africa policy were consumed by the war in neighboring Ethiopia, where an estimated 200,000 to 600,000 people died during a bloody conflict in the country’s northern Tigray region. And the U.S. Embassy in Khartoum was understaffed and unable to come to grips with the situation; a full-time U.S. ambassador wouldn’t arrive until three years after Bashir’s ouster. During this time, officials say, Phee took direct charge over U.S. policy on Sudan.

Phee worked closely with a U.S. Agency for International Development official detailed to the State Department, Danny Fullerton, in Khartoum to negotiate directly with Burhan and Hemeti and bring them to the table for a new political deal.

“The embassy was just very beleaguered, with a real shortage of skilled or enough political officers, and both the chargés d’affaires and later the ambassador when he got there were very frustrated with a lack of support from Washington,” said one American familiar with internal embassy dynamics. “It was a group that was out of its depth, overly busy, and, frankly, not as well connected as it should’ve been with the right people in Sudan’s pro-democracy communities.”

This official said severe embassy staffing shortages, detailed in a State Department watchdog report on the embassy published in March, and leadership issues contributed to difficulties in hashing out negotiations with Burhan and Hemeti. But other current and former officials dispute that, insisting that the State Department can still make deals with high-level involvement from officials in Washington, even with an understaffed embassy.

Five current and former U.S. officials and two Sudanese activists familiar with the negotiations said that before the U.S. ambassador came to Khartoum in late 2022, U.S. officials involved in the negotiations with Hemeti and Burhan didn’t do enough to incorporate Sudan’s pro-democracy resistance committees into deliberations on a new political deal with the two generals, nor did they heed warnings about the inherent risks and flaws in a new deal.

A Sudanese woman chants slogans and waves a national flag during a demonstration demanding a civilian body to lead the transition to democracy outside the army headquarters in Khartoum on April 12, 2019. Ashraf Shazly/AFP via Getty Images

These officials said there was mounting dissent in Washington over the trajectory of U.S. policy but that Phee dismissed other policy options, including threatening Hemeti or Burhan with sanctions or other forms of pressure or incorporating Sudan’s pro-democracy groups into the political negotiations. The State Department watchdog report also noted that the deputy chief of mission in Khartoum “at times remained focused on her predetermined course of action and did not consider alternatives offered by staff”—though the report did not address whether this had any affect on U.S. policy.

The State Department spokesperson, however, sharply disputed these characterizations: “While we cannot comment on internal policy deliberations, State Department leaders carefully considered policy proposals and different opinions on our policy on Sudan and did not dismiss or stamp out any dissent.”

All the while, Burhan and Hemeti sought to expand their own power and influence across Sudan, currying favor with foreign powers and setting the stage for a growing rivalry that would later ignite a deadly conflict. Burhan found backers in neighboring Egypt. Hemeti courted the United Arab Emirates and Russia and began deepening ties between the RSF and the Wagner Group, a shadowy Russian mercenary outfit widely reported to be responsible for war crimes in other parts of Africa and in Ukraine. Hemeti, implicated in widespread atrocities in Sudan’s Darfur conflict that broke out in 2003, launched a coordinated public relations campaign to try to transform himself into a statesman on the world stage in what was seen as a political charm offensive and challenge to Burhan’s rule.

Hemeti visited Moscow on Feb. 23, 2022, on the eve of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, to discuss the possible opening of a Russian port on Sudan’s coast along the strategic trade routes in the Red Sea. Some U.S. officials who had been pushing for sanctioning Hemeti believed his brazen visit to Moscow would finally convince top decision-makers to finally pull the trigger on a major new tranche of sanctions. The sanctions never came.

Around that time, at least one memo was written and circulated within the State Department’s Bureau of African Affairs warning of the risks of current U.S. policy on Sudan and listing potential scenarios that could emerge from the rivalry between Burhan and Hemeti, including those tensions erupting into a full-scale conflict. The memo, described in broad terms by several congressional aides and former officials familiar with it, was meant to go to U.S. Secretary of State Antony Blinken’s desk, but the draft was heavily edited, watered down, and never passed out of the bureau, those people said. “Still, the State Department leaders can’t say they weren’t warned,” one former official said.

Human rights advocates have also criticized the Biden administration’s approach to Sudan in the months leading up to the eruption of violence in April. “By repeatedly failing to hold abusive leaders accountable or making clear, through concrete measures, that abusive behavior would not be condoned, Sudan’s Western partners sent these generals the signal that they can continue holding the country at a gunpoint with almost no consequences,” said Mohamed Osman, an expert on the region at Human Rights Watch.

During this time, Sudanese activists became increasingly disenchanted with the U.S. approach to Sudan. “There was no meaningful commitment that we’d ever seen from either [Burhan or Hemeti], and that was all put aside and sacrificed effectively at the altar of a political process and a political agreement that was never going to hold and that had very little popular support,” said Kholood Khair, a Sudanese political analyst who followed the negotiations closely.

John Godfrey, the U.S. ambassador to Sudan, delivers a speech in Port Sudan amid the delivery of tons of corn as part of U.S. humanitarian support for the country on Nov. 20, 2022. AFP via Getty Images

In September 2022, John Godfrey, a career U.S. diplomat with experience in the Middle East and North Africa and a background in counterterrorism, landed in Khartoum as the first U.S. ambassador to Sudan in a quarter century. Godfrey, officials said, immediately began trying to make inroads with so-called resistance committees and other civil society organizations that had been the driving force in Sudan’s push for democracy.

“He was beset with the cards that were dealt to him,” the American familiar with the embassy’s internal dynamics said. “He was burning the candle at both ends trying to make this deal happen, even if people back in Washington, outside of Phee and the [Bureau of African Affairs], weren’t giving Sudan much attention or thought.”

Even as Russia’s war in Ukraine and the ongoing conflict in Ethiopia distracted most in Washington, Phee and Godfrey—alongside counterparts including senior diplomats from the United Kingdom, United Nations, African Union, and a regional bloc called the Intergovernmental Authority on Development—pushed to restart Sudan’s transition to civilian rule. An apparent breakthrough came last December, when Sudan’s military leaders and some factions of the country’s pro-democracy forces agreed to a new civilian-led transitional government in a matter of months.

But the Western negotiators acceded to demands by Hemeti and Burhan to cut civil society and pro-democracy activists out of the negotiations, giving the military junta an early win over the weaker civilian groups, officials said. The December agreement also left unresolved one major issue that would soon become an explosive one: plans to incorporate the RSF into the SAF to create one unified military force for the country.

People gather to protest the framework agreement signed by Sudan’s military and civilian leaders, which aims to resolve the country’s governance crisis, in Khartoum on April 6. Mahmoud Hjaj/Anadolu Agency via Getty Images

That question fueled more tensions between Burhan and Hemeti in the coming months. Analysts in Khartoum began sounding alarm bells about the roiling tensions that would set the stage for an eruption of violence. The push for the agreement may have exacerbated it.

“There was this absolute desperation to push the final deal over the line to the point of succumbing false hope,” said another person involved in the negotiations.

In Washington, however, plans were underway to celebrate the new transitional government the second the agreement was signed. The embassy continued arranging meetings with Hemeti and Burhan and conducting routine embassy business; an American rock band played a festival in March as part of a State Department public diplomacy tour.

The business-as-usual approach belied the tensions in Khartoum. A signing ceremony for the deal was delayed and then delayed again. Burhan and Hemeti were amassing forces around Khartoum. Some low-level U.S. diplomats and Sudanese civilian negotiators began more explicitly warning their friends and colleagues back in Washington through informal back channels that a conflict seemed imminent.

“People were calling around, saying, ‘You’ve got to pass up these messages to everyone you know in D.C. that there could really be a war, it doesn’t feel like the international community is taking us seriously’” said the American familiar with internal embassy dynamics.

Activists demonstrate in front of the White House in Washington on April 29, calling on the United States to intervene to stop the fighting in Sudan. Daniel Slim/AFP via Getty Images

Top officials in Washington either downplayed or misinterpreted these warning signs, according to six officials and congressional aides familiar with the matter. It wasn’t the first time that Burhan and Hemeti had amassed forces around Khartoum, nor the first time that U.S. interlocutors had to step in to help calm the tensions.

Godfrey and his counterpart from London, Giles Lever, who played key roles in shepherding the December deal to the finish line, left the country on separate vacations by early April, a sign that Washington felt the deal was all but done. Back in Washington, after Burhan and Hemeti signed the agreement, the State Department sent word to Congress that it wanted to ready $330 million in funds to aid Sudan’s democratic transition, according to three congressional aides and officials familiar with the matter. Those officials said the department was drafting a carrot-and-stick plan for Sudan, with the millions of dollars of funding the carrot and new sanctions authorizations a hefty stick.

The State Department had a long-standing Level 4 travel advisory for Sudan, recommending that U.S. citizens “do not travel” there, and sent out one additional security alert, on April 13, advising citizens to avoid Karima in northern Sudan, and barring U.S. government personnel from leaving Khartoum, in light of the ���increased presence of security forces.” The United States didn’t issue a broad travel warning urging citizens to leave via commercial air travel, consolidate U.S. government personnel inside Khartoum in the event of a crisis, or order a departure of nonessential personnel as tensions between Burhan and Hemeti reached a boiling point.

“We’re all really questioning why we didn’t do more to prepare for the worst-case scenario,” a third U.S. official said.

Drone footage shows clouds of black smoke over Bahri, also known as Khartoum North, outside Sudan’s capital, in a May 1 video obtained by Reuters.Third-party video via Reuters

On April 15, the tensions between Hemeti and Burhan finally boiled over. The RSF launched what appeared to be a coordinated series of attacks on SAF bases and hammered Khartoum International Airport with gunfire and missiles—effectively cutting off the only viable means of escape in a densely populated city that is hundreds of miles from the coast or nearest border.

At once, the city of some 5 million people became a battle zone. The U.S. Embassy began working frantically to consolidate all its personnel and their families in several key locations. Godfrey, the U.S. ambassador, had rushed back to Khartoum, cutting his vacation short, just before the fighting erupted. RSF fighters carried out wholesale looting and assaults, and SAF troops began bombing sites around Khartoum. RSF fighters assaulted the EU’s ambassador in Khartoum, Aidan O’Hara, and in various other instances reportedly fired on, briefly kidnapped, or sexually assaulted U.N. and international organization workers, according to internal U.N. security reports obtained by Foreign Policy.

The White House, State Department, and Defense Department leaped into crisis mode, working around the clock to draft up embassy evacuation plans. On April 22, a contingent of U.S. troops took off from a U.S. base in Djibouti on three Chinook helicopters and, after refueling in Ethiopia, landed in Khartoum to safely evacuate all U.S. government staff and their families. All the while, top U.S. diplomats worked to arrange temporary cease-fires between Burhan and Hemeti to aid civilians and assist those trying to escape.

“None of the foreign diplomatic missions in Khartoum changed their security posture or staffing levels before the outbreak in fighting, and the U.S. embassy was very focused and effective in consolidating its personnel immediately after the war started,” the State Department spokesperson said.

An estimated 16,000 U.S. citizens remained trapped in the city, including many dual U.S.-Sudanese citizens and a smaller number of NGO and aid workers who worked on U.S.-funded humanitarian and development programs. U.S. lawmakers became infuriated that the Biden administration wasn’t doing more to aid in the evacuation of U.S. citizens after the initial outbreak of the conflict, comparing the fiasco to the ignominious withdrawal from Afghanistan.

The Saudi-flagged ferry passenger ship Amanah carrying evacuated civilians fleeing violence in Sudan arrives at King Faisal Naval Base in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, on April 26. Amer Hilabi/AFP via Getty Images

One resident who stayed in Khartoum was Bushra Ibnauf, a dual U.S.-Sudanese citizen and doctor who had moved back to Khartoum from Iowa. “He had a passion for doing good. I remember him saying, ‘I can be replaced in Iowa, but I can’t be replaced in Sudan,’” said Yasir Elamin, the president of the Sudanese American Physicians Association and a close friend and colleague of Ibnauf. Ibnauf and other doctors ventured out amid gunfights and explosions to provide aid to wounded civilians as the conflict dragged on.

Other Sudanese citizens began trying to make their way out of Khartoum, either by fleeing north to the Egyptian border or on a precarious overland journey to the coast at Port Sudan. “It was hell on earth,” recalled one Sudanese activist who escaped Khartoum. “We only left through the city and all the firefights because we were running out of water. Our choice was either definitely die of thirst or maybe get hit by bullets. It was no choice at all.”

U.S. officials have made brokering a sustainable cease-fire their top priority, but so far no cease-fire has held. Both Burhan and Hemeti have sent negotiators to peace talks in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, coordinated with Washington and Riyadh, but many officials and analysts doubt the talks will lead anywhere after multiple ceasefire attempts failed. On May 4, Biden announced a new executive order granting new legal authorities to impose sanctions on those involved in the violence in Sudan. Some Sudanese analysts doubt sanctions will work.

“The point of sanctions is that it is used as a threat during normal times to prevent bad actors from doing bad things,” said Amgad Fareid Eltayeb, a former assistant chief of staff to Sudanese Prime Minister Abdalla Hamdok before he was ousted from power. “I think right now it’s too little, too late—it’s already a war situation.”

The situation in Khartoum remains dire. “​​I don’t think so-called safe areas right now are going to be safe for much longer because the aim of the game from both sides seems to be total control of the country,” said Khair, the Sudanese political analyst.

A Sudanese person paints graffiti on a wall during a demonstration in Khartoum on April 14, 2019. Omer Erdem/Anadolu Agency/Getty Images

U.S. lawmakers are pressing for new envoys to enter the fray. Rep. Michael McCaul, the Republican chairman of the House Foreign Affairs Committee, and his Democratic counterpart, Rep. Gregory Meeks, issued a joint appeal to Biden and the U.N. to appoint new U.S. and U.N. special envoys to Sudan, saying that “[d]irect, sustained, high-level leadership from the United States and United Nations is necessary to stop the fighting from dragging the country into a full-blown civil war and state collapse.”

Many Western officials fear that Sudan could plunge into civil war if the fighting isn’t stopped soon, but it’s also unclear what a viable cease-fire would mean for any hopes of reviving the moribund democratic transition in Sudan. “This is not yet a full-scale civil war, à la Syria, à la Libya,” said Feltman, the former U.S. envoy. “It’s still a fight between two rival forces. Now is the time to arrest it, to stop it before it spirals.”

All the while, the fighting in Khartoum continues. Some U.S. citizens have found additional ways to evacuate, either with the direct assistance of the U.S. government or of other countries.

Others weren’t so lucky. Ibnauf, the Sudanese American doctor who stayed in Khartoum to provide succor to civilians amid the fighting, was stabbed to death by suspected looters in front of his family on April 25.

[dogopower]

Chaos Ideological subversion is the process which is legitimate overt and open, you can see it with your own eyes. All you can do, all Americans needs to do is to unplug their bananas from their ears, open up their eyes and they can see. There is no mystery. It has nothing to do with espionage. I know that espionage and intelligence gathering looks more romantic, it sells more to the audience through the advertising, probably. That's why your Hollywood producers are so crazy about James Bond type of thrillers. But in reality, the main emphasis of the KGB is not in the area of intelligence at all. According to my opinion and the opinion of many defectors of my caliber, only about fifteen percent of time, money and manpower is spent on espionage as such. The other eighty-five percent is a slow process which we call either ideological subversion or active measures, or psychological warfare. What it basically means is, to change the perception of reality, of every American, to such an extent that despite an abundance of information no one is able to come to sensible conclusions in the interest of defending themselves, their family, their community and their country. It's a great brainwashing process which goes very slow and is divided into four basic stages. The first one being demoralization. It takes from fifteen to twenty years to demoralize a nation. Why that many years? Because this is the minimum number of years required to educate on generation of students in the country of your enemy, exposed to the ideology of the enemy. In other words, Marxism, Leninism ideology is being pumped into the soft heads of at least three generations of American students, without being challenged or contra-balanced by the basic values of Americanism, American patriotism. Most of the activity of the department was to compile huge amount, volume of information on individuals who were instrumental in creating public opinion. Publishers, editors, journalists, actors, educationalists, professors of political science, members of Parliament, representatives of business circles. Most of these people were divided roughly in two groups. Those who were told the Soviet foreign policy, they would be promoted to the positions of power through media and public opinion manipulation. Those who refuse the Soviet influence in their country would be character assassinated, or executed physically contra-revolution. Same was as in a small town named HEWA in South Vietnam. Several thousand so of Vietnamese were executed in one night when the city was captured by Vietcong for only two days. And American CIA could never figure out, how could possibly Communists know each individual, where he lives, where to get him, and would be arrested in one night, basically in some four hours before dawn, put on a van, taken out of the city limits and shot.

They serve purpose only at the stage of destabilization of a nation. For example, your leftists in the United States, all these professors and all these beautiful civil rights defender, they are instrumental in the process of the subversion, only to destabilize a nation. When their job is completed, they are not needed anymore. They know too much. Some of them, when they get disillusioned, when they see that Marxist Leninist has come to power obviously they get offended. They think that they will come to power. That will never happen of course. They will be lined up against the wall and shot. fear destruction and terror 

[larchraven]

SHATs RPS week: Smornby Smut AU I Just Made Up Saturday

Title: Crystal Clear

Ship: Ross/Smith (Smornby)

Rating: Gen

Wordcount: 860

Description: Who doesn't love a fantasy AU? Who doesn't love anxious disaster chaos sorcerer Smith?

Content details: An AU I made up and honestly, I can't remember what the original inspiration for this was. Only that I am distinctly lacking in the Smornby AUs department. Please enjoy this dumb little meet-cute.

[edit: helps if i......actually put the thing under the cut......]

___________________________

The bell on the shop’s door chimed merrily, bouncing on its coiled band of metal to announce Smith’s entry. The worn wooden floorboards squeaked as he stepped out of the clear blustery afternoon and into the warm and subdued glow of the shop.

“Afternoon,” called the shopkeeper. He was hidden behind the narrow rows of drawers and display cases that reached almost to the ceiling, high above Smith’s head. From somewhere in the back of the shop came the sound of wood creaking, and metal wheels rolling on one of the ladder tracks that allowed for access to the highest drawers. Smith twisted the top of the cloth satchel in his hand, the crystals inside clinking together.

“Afternoon,” he replied back. Bracing himself, he approached the counter with the till.

“Can I help you find-” the shopkeeper rounded a corner and caught sight of him, stopping in the middle of his sentence. “Oh. You again.”

“Me again,” Smith said, voice strained with false good humor.

“Let me guess. These ones broke too?” The shop keeper lifted the section of counter that allowed him access to the till. He leaned his elbows on the glass of the display case, looking at Smith with an aggrieved expression.

“Uhm,” Smith said. He slowly placed the cloth satchel on the counter, bits of rock inside making their tell-tale rattle.

The shopkeeper rolled his eyes, picked up one of the little baskets meant for browsing customers, and turned away from Smith.

“You’re seriously making me re-consider that warranty policy. You’ve single-handedly broken more crystals than all my other customers combined, since we started business.”

As he spoke, he rummaged through the drawers behind the counter, opening them one by one and pulling out replacements for the crystals that Smith had broken, yet again.

“Look, I’m sorry to be such a bother, I really don’t mind paying for the replacements.”

“And let word get out that Hornby’s Unconditional Lifetime Guarantee does in fact have conditions? Absolutely not.” He dropped the basket full of crystals onto the countertop, plucking the satchel from Smith’s fingers. The shopkeeper dumped out the broken crystals, sorting them into piles as he scowled at them. He started punching buttons on the till, its little chimes dinging as cheerfully as the door.

Smith fidgeted, straightening the little cards where they sat in their carved soapstone holder by the register. Printed on the cards in neat text were the words:

Hornby’s Finest Crystals, Gems, and Minerals

For all your magickal and decorative needs

Unconditional Lifetime Guarantee on all New Crystal Purchases

NO EXCEPTIONS!

63 West Wallaby Street

Ross Hornby, Proprietor

“I’m honestly impressed you manage to break these.” The shopkeeper commented. He pressed a button on the till and the drawer slid out with one final chorus of bells. He slid it closed, and scooped all the broken crystal bits into a box on the floor full of a rainbow of jagged pieces of rock. He dusted off his hands on the quilted vest he wore. A deep red one today, with embroidered leaves on the hem and shoulders, worked in thread just a shade darker than the fabric. “There have to be easier ways to flirt with someone.”

“Beg pardon?” Smith felt his face get hot.

“There’s no need to keep going to such crazy lengths to get my attention. I’m pretty sure you had it after the fifth time you came in here.”

“I’m not breaking them on purpose!”

“Right. You just happen to break the same crystals – the finest in town I might add – again and again.”

The shopkeeper began to wrap the new crystals in paper, lining up the little bundles neatly on the counter as he rolled and folded with deft fingers.

“I swear! Well, I am deliberately stressing them, but my intent isn’t to break the crystals. Far from it! I’m conducting some very experimental...experiments. Magicks. Your crystals are the only ones that come close to holding up to the task.”

The shopkeeper finished packing the wrapped crystals into the small bag Smith had come in with, and crossed his arms over his chest. A small smile broke through the annoyance as he looked Smith up and down.

“So you’re not flirting then.”

“No! I mean, not by breaking the crystals. Not if you’re not interested.”

“But you are flirting if I am interested, is that right?”

“I can just take these, and go. I really don’t mean to keep troubling you, Mister...” He reached for the bag, but the shopkeeper caught his hand before he could grab it and bolt.

“It's Ross.” He gave Smith’s hand a squeeze, and Smith felt himself blushing all over again. “Are you busy tomorrow evening?”

“N-no?” Smith was paralyzed, caught in place by Ross’s hand on his own.

“I’ll meet you down by the wharf then, an hour before sundown. I know a vendor who makes excellent sausage. My treat.”

Smith nodded, and Ross grinned at him.

“I’ll see you then...” He paused, looking at Smith pointedly.

“Smith. Alex Smith.”

He pressed the cloth satchel into Smith’s hand, wrapping Smith’s fingers around it with a gentle squeeze.

“It's a date, Smith.”

[inspectormila]

Mirror’s Edge || Sharmila & Erin

TIMING: Current (POTW)

PARTIES: @inspectormila​, @corpse--diem​

SUMMARY: Mila goes to discuss Erin’s recent fire. Things don’t go well, but not for the reason you think. 

Sharmila wasted no time once she returned to White Crest in opening and reinvestigating each and every fire that occurred in her absence. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her department to do a thorough job, it was just that they weren’t that great. They weren’t her. Every accidental fire and explosion case she could convince the chief to hand her was now splayed across her dining table in loosely organized chaos. Most looked like accidents, but there were a few questionables. The explosion at the morgue, for instance, but she would grill Cece about that later once they’d had a few drinks. The second was also close to home, Nichols’ Funeral Home. Not only were there people trapped inside, one of their own had actually been killed in the blaze. Mila didn’t know Roland well, but he had always been nice to her when they passed in the halls. It was still a tragedy. And it was still suspected arson. Why it had been shoved by the wayside was beyond Mila and she would make damn sure she got to the bottom of it.

She hadn’t given Nichols much of a heads up, calling the woman when she was already on her way, notebook and tape recorder in hand. If the reports were correct, she was seen having an argument with an unknown person just before the blaze broke out. Mila wanted to make sure she caught the woman off guard in case she had something to hide. Most arson cases in town were owner caused, more often than not because of insurance fraud. How silly. She would always find the truth, didn’t they know this by now? The sun was just beginning to dip low behind the trees when Mila’s louboutins clicked their way up the driveway. Reaching out a perfectly manicured finger, Mila rang the bell and called out. “Hello? Ms. Nichols? It’s Agent Darzi? I called on my way over?”

Erin didn’t have a chance to appreciate the anxiety that brief phone call had given her. Just knew that some Agent Darzi was on her way to her apartment right now with some questions regarding the fire that brought down half of the funeral home. This wasn’t her fault--not this fire, anyway--but how was she supposed to explain herself here? Sorry, some asshole with magic fingers and a vendetta torched the place? Also, please don’t worry about the recent arrest on my record? She probably didn’t need the caffeine but she put on a pot of coffee anyway to busy herself while she waited. When the doorbell rang, Erin ran a hand down her mouth, trying to steady her heartbeat, reminding herself she hadn’t been the one to physically set the building to flame. She wasn’t innocent but this part she couldn’t take all the credit for.

“Agent Darzi,” Erin smiled tightly, nodding her head in greeting, a little taken aback by how young the woman was. Age hardly mattered when it came to whether or not she had the ability to toss Erin right back into that depressing holding cell. “You can just call me Erin. Come in, please,” she insisted, moving aside to let her in. The coffee was already set up on the table and she guided her towards it. “Coffee?” She asked, trying to loosen some of the tightness in her throat and started pouring two mugs before Agent Darzi had the chance to decline or accept. “You said you had some, uh--questions? About the fire?”

Sharmila smiled and entered the apartment, glancing around casually before following her mark towards the coffee. She breathed in deep, inhaling the warm scent before placing her things on the table, making herself quite at home. “Oh I would love some, thanks!” She reached out, letting the cup warm her hands. “I didn’t get a chance to inject any caffeine this morning, so this is a godsend!” She chuckled, attempting to put the woman at ease. Mila knew all too well how stressful law enforcement home visits were and in her experience, you caught more flies with honey than vinegar. “Yes,” Mila frowned, taking a small sip. Dark and bitter, just like she liked it. “I’m so sorry about your losses, I’m sure it’s come as a great heartbreak. Unfortunately, as arson is suspected, we have to do a thorough investigation. You understand. Just making sure everything’s in order!” Mila set her coffee down and began rummaging through her bag, pulling out a few folders. “Now, did you have any insurance policies on the building or business? Unfortunately money is almost always the real cause for these things.” She raised her perfectly plucked brows in a gesture of innocence. “Not that I’m blaming you for that! Just the facts, really. We want to make sure whoever is responsible is dealt with accordingly and if you do have a good insurance plan, we want to make sure you can get back up and running as soon as possible!” She smiled, tapping her pen expectantly on her pad of paper.

The woman sure was eager, wasn’t she? Erin would’ve appreciated the enthusiasm more if it wasn’t her case she’d decided to double check. “Totally understand. You’re just doing your job, here,” she smiled, trying to be gracious about Agent Darzi’s efforts. God, that would be nice, though. Kicking the insurance into gear, getting construction underway, going back to work. Her smile lifted more genuinely at the thought. “I’ve got all of that information right here. All that I could find on such short notice, anyway. Not much from my office made it out.” She tried to ignore the crackling of fire in her ear or Blanche’s screams of terror. Still felt as real as it did two months ago. She cleared her throat and pushed the folder towards her. “The only thing that’s changed in the past few years is the policy owner, from Jack Nichols to myself. There’s a few extra things because of the nature of my business. Equipment’s expensive to replace, but that’s about--”

Erin took one short look at the coffee pot, then another, longer this time--and jolted back with a start. A woman’s face hovered beside her own, obscured and abstract due thanks to the shape of the pot yet horrifying. She looked… dead. Pale skin cracked around the curves of her face, darkening to almost black around the eyes. “Jesus!” She yelped, turning to look behind her, knocking her full cup of coffee all over the place. There was nothing there, and nothing in the coffee pot when she looked again. What the fuck? She jumped again when the hot liquid dripped onto her lap. “I--shit, I’m so sorry. I don’t know--” she started, standing up, limbs shaky from the sudden fright as she grabbed some towels from the kitchen and started to clean. The papers were covered in coffee. “I thought I saw--something.”

Mila nodded, her lips pouting a bit. “Of course, so sorry to spring this on you again, I guess I don’t know what to do when I’m not working so I like to dive in head first!” She reached out and began flipping through the documents. Nothing looked out of order, no expansive insurance policy that would pay for her second home in Cabo. But then there was that mention of an argument...Heated arguments were explosive in cases like this. “Now, I’m so sorry to ask but do you have any enemies? Old coworkers, competing businesses, anyone who would want to see your home burn? There’s a note here-” Mila looked down to her file a split second before coffee and papers went flying. She jumped back, swatting a few stray droplets from her Chanel pants. “Oh! Are you ok??” Mila set about drying off her papers, bristling at the idea that maybe there was something suspicious in here after all, but one look at Erin’s face told her maybe not to jump the gun. Her hands hovered over the papers. “Ms. Nichols, are- what’s wrong? Are you alright? You’re shaking...Here just hand me some paper towels, I’ve got this. No use crying over spilled coffee, right?”

“No, no, I’m fine!” Erin insisted, trying to take a deep breaths. She was just seeing things. That’s all. Stress, lack of sleep, and a trick of the light would do wonders to mess with anyone’s mind a little bit. That’s all it was. Besides, this place was fully warded against anything even resembling a ghosts. Even fires, thanks to Nell’s helpful addition. Blanche had even come to double check them all. They had nothing to worry about. Nothing. “God, I’m sorry. This probably looks… not great.” She had to laugh as the adrenaline slowly started to loosen itself from her limbs. Her nose crinkled at the ruined paperwork and she slid a worried hand down the side of her face. “Whatever you need from me, I’ll be happy to replace. I’ll get the insurance company to send over more copies too, if you need them?” She asked, hoping that her blunder hadn’t made her look even more guilty than before. With the table cleaned, and the coffee pot reflection free, she sat down once more, trying to smooth over this shamble of a meeting. “You were asking about… enemies?” She stiffened, narrowing her eyes, shrugging innocently. “Nope. None that I can think of. I mean, competition for funeral homes isn’t exactly stiff in this town, if you know what I mean.”

Mila knelt down and collected what she could, handing back a few of the more ruined documents to Erin. “It’s fine, really. I would like to have some copies, but maybe...let’s email those over to my office directly?” She gave a small smile. Whatever had spooked the woman seemed to be gone now, but it raised the question in Mila’s mind, what if something similar had happened with the fire in question? That would make it an accident, not intentional arson. She scribbled down a quick note before looking back up. “Luckily all of this,” she waved her folder casually. “Is backed up multiple times. Can’t work in the business of fire and destruction without assuming accidents might happen to you too.” The lamia tried to center herself back into the task at hand, hoping Erin wouldn’t be quite so jumpy for the rest of their meeting. “Are you- oh good lord.” Mila grinned, slapping a hand on her knee. “No, I suppose it isn’t is it? No one plotting for your business, hm? Now…” Her face fell a bit, shifting from her jokes. “There was a witness who saw a man speaking with you just before the fire. Can you tell me about that?”

Oh good, they were both full blown punning now. That was a good sign Agent Darzi wasn’t about to find her guilty and slap some handcuffs on right now, right? The thought was ridiculous of course but after her first go around, Erin wasn’t anxious for another. An easy laugh fell from her and she sat back in her seat, trying to push the image of the woman in the reflection out of her mind. This was fine. “Plotting for my business. That’s a good one,” she pointed towards the other woman. “No, no. Believe me, my life is ridiculously boring,” she answered, lying so seamlessly it almost felt true. More of a wish, than anything. Her nerves had finally seemed to settle when she saw it again--just behind Darzi in the mirror on the wall. There was no mistaking it this time. Erin froze, no longer listening, just stared back at the wretched and angry face locked on hers. The woman’s black lips parted, gaping open as a wail burst from her throat, inhuman and raspy. “MURDERER!” the voice bellowed, pointing in her direction.

Erin flew backwards in her hurry, taking the chair down with her, an icy fear shooting up her spine. What the fuck? What the fuck? Another scream left the woman in the mirror, her finger pointing in Erin’s direction. Suddenly, she was in every part of the room, all at once, in every reflection. Pointing and screaming “Murderer!” at the top of her lungs. It was almost as if she didn’t even see Agent Darzi. Murderer. Guess that was her. Fuck. “Run!” she hollered at the other woman anyway, scrambling over some of the moving boxes on the floor on her way down the hallway.

If she was honest, Mila hoped this woman was innocent. It was always hard to file a case against the good ones, nice people who maybe just needed some extra money or in an accidental passion sent their home or business up in flame. Hell, wasn’t she a little hypocritical at this point? Not that she ever lit up anything important or owned by someone else. “Ridiculously boring can still have it’s sharp edges,” Mila replied, tapping the end of her pen against her leg. Mila watched as Erin’s face went blank, white as a ghost. She was familiar with the look of horror, but it wasn’t aimed at her. Instead her eyes were focused on a point behind Mila’s head. “Ms. Nichols? Are you- what are you-” Before she could finish the question, Mila slapped her hands to her ears. The inhuman screeching echoed around her brain and she cursed her lamia parents for giving her perfect hearing. “What the hell was-” Mila didn’t have to ask. Suddenly in front of her were fractal images of a pale, horrific woman, screaming. Murderer. Mila’s eyes went wide and she jumped back from Erin. She’d never committed a single crime against another person, there was no way in hell she was a murderer. She’d never eaten a person, only animals, and nothing sentient. Her parents had always been adamant about that. Erin screamed at her to run, and while she was hesitant to follow an apparent murderer, she did just that. The alternative was to hang out here with a bloody mirror ghost and Mila wasn’t overly fond of that option. She dashed back through the hall, following Erin’s lead. “What is that thing??” She cried, wondering if this is what Ms. Nichols thought a ‘ridiculously boring life’ would entail.

Erin didn’t look back to see if the agent was following her, just booked it down the small hallway. This was absolutely the part of the movie where she’d be screaming at herself to run out of the apartment but--here she was anyway, fucking off into her bedroom. “Murderer!” The accusing, angry voice yelled again from the mirror above her dresser. From the window next to her bed. Even the half empty glass of water on the table. She was everywhere.  Pointing still, directly at Erin. She didn’t know how she knew, or even who the hell this woman was, but she was relentless in whatever the fuck this pursuit was. Justice? Truth? Erin reached for the closest thing near her, a lamp, and tossed it at the mirror. The glass splintered, breaking off into pieces, but the woman only appeared again and again in each fragment, like an inescapable nightmare. “What the f--” Her eyes were wide and she looked for Darzi. “I don’t know! I don’t know. You’re--you’re seeing this right?” The reflection shifted from a two-dimensional horror into a very tangible reality as the woman reached out from the picture frame directly beside Erin. She didn’t have time to dodge the cold hand that grabbed her, wrapping around her throat, holding her to the wall as the rest of her slowly eased out of the reflection.

Panic overwhelmed her better senses, pushing Mila further into the home after Erin. She toppled into the bedroom moments after she heard glass shattering, only to see even more ghastly faces reflected back. “Yes I’m seeing this! But what is THIS??” The ghostly woman had no heat signature, obvious that she wasn’t among the living, but Mila had never seen a ghost. That’s what this had to be, right? It’s not like zombies crawled out of mirrors and attacked people- which was exactly what this bitch was doing. “Oh my god!!!” Mila shrieked, throwing herself towards Erin, unsure what, if anything, she would be able to do here. “Get off her- you- BITCH!” Her hand wound around cold flesh that wasn’t really flesh and she yanked with all the strength she had. It wasn’t enough, not by a long shot. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for anything that might help. God, where was a giant sword when you needed one? “Hold on, Ms. Nichols!!” The woman’s gasping was sending new waves of panic through her. She barely knew this woman, but she refused to let her die, not like this. With no knowledge of whether or not it would work, Mila set her sights on the mirror the ghastly woman was currently climbing out of, raising a stilettoed heel and bringing it sharply down on the glass, sending the woman into fragments. “OK let’s get the fuck out of here!!”

Darzi was on her attacker, fast, and Erin was never more thankful for the agent’s impromptu visit. Her vision was beginning to blacken when she heard the mirror shattering beside her head. The air rushed back into her lungs the second the ghostly woman’s hand dissipated into thin air and she took greedy gulps, stumbling forward into a full out run. “What the fu--” Erin yelled hoarsely, starting and stopping through every turn in her relatively small apartment. It wasn’t big but every reflective surface taunted her with that face, again and again. She didn’t think, just booked it right out of the apartment, leading the way for the agent. The woman was everywhere still. In the windows, the framed stock art on the walls, even the full reflection in the elevator. Relief came in the form of a dim stairwell. No reflections--just concrete, steel and the low glow of the exit sign. She dared to pause, just for a moment to catch her breath, clutching her throat. The woman’s hand had been so cold--like Dale’s had been. A shot of anger piggybacked her sharp fears. “Shit--are you okay?” She managed to ask, leaning against the wall. “Thank you for that--christ, she nearly killed me,” she huffed out incredulously. Still trying to stabilize her breathing and heartbeat, eyes flickering constantly around the room, before landing on the other woman again. “What the fuck was that? Who the fuck--?”

Mila didn’t pause, following Erin out of the apartment as fast as she possible could. Everywhere they turned, there was the woman ‘s face, now staring menacingly at herself too. Fuck. Her heart hammered in her chest as they reached the stairwell, a blank canvas, not reflections in sight. She didn’t even dare pull out her phone for fear the woman would appear in the screen. “Yeah,” Mila replied breathlessly, her hands on her knees. Thank god she was used to running in couture footwear. “Yeah I’m ok...how’s your neck?” Her eyes scanned Erin, looking for any readily apparent damage, but other than the choking incident, it seemed more of a mental fuck than anything. “Do you...What- you didn’t recognize her or anything?” Mila leaned against the cold concrete and rested her head back, thinking. She’d lived in White Crest long enough to know a thing or two about strange occurrences, she knew there were ghosts and werewolves and vampires and obviously the more exotic creatures like herself, but this thing...it was undead. But unlike anything she’d ever experienced or heard of. It wasn’t possessing any one, it came out of a goddamn mirror.

“No, I’m fine,” Erin shook her head, rubbing her neck as if to emphasize the fact. Something was wrong--obviously, but there’s no way that a ghost could have gotten into her apartment, bypassing wards put in by an experienced exorcist. Blanche had even double checked her work to be sure. Was it even a ghost? “No fucking idea,” she raised a brow, her eyes still roaming the walls as if suddenly she was going to pop out again. Murderer. Murderer. Murderer. Her face burned as the words repeated in her mind, the woman’s finger and eyes locked on her. No, nope. She wasn’t going to think about it - she had done what she had to. That was all. She hadn’t allowed herself to sink her teeth into those emotions just yet and some murderous ghost bitch wasn’t about to get her to start now. Not with Agent Diaz already questioning her about the fire. Standing straight, she tried to shake off the nerves clawing at her bones. “We should, uh--we should go.” Erin sure as hell wasn’t heading back to her apartment tonight. The stairwell exit opened up to more barren concrete halls. This was fine. For now, this would be fine. “You know, you’ve got a hell of a right hook with that stiletto,” she tried to tease now that the air was coming back to her in shorter intakes. “I’m so impressed, I won’t even bill you for the damage.”

Mila nodded, running a hand through her hair. She hadn’t forgotten what she’d heard, what that thing had been rasping...but murder wasn’t exactly in her job descprition. She eyed the woman carefully, not sensing that she could be a murderer, but then again, you never really knew people and she’d only spent what, an hour at best with her? “Maybe...don’t stay at your apartment tonight,” she offered as they exited the stairwell, carefully checking for any reflective surfaces. “Is there someone who could take you in for a night?” She would offer, but the whole investigation would crumble, not to mention the whole murderer thing. Not that Mila couldn’t take care of herself. “Thanks,” she smiled, popping one of her feet into the air. “Not only fashionable, but a deadly weapon against mirror monsters,” she chuckled. Suddenly Mila felt the earth shifting. Tiny, miniscule grains, rolling against the smooth ground. She stopped in her tracks, throwing an arm out to halt Erin as well. “Stop...I don’t- something’s not right…” Slipping out of her heels, Mila felt the cold tile on her bare feet trembling. Something big was coming, growing, with each spec of...was that sand? “Ms Nichols, I don’t think we’re quite finished yet…is there another way out of here?”

If Mila had caught on to whatever the woman in the mirror had been screaming at her, she wasn’t pressing Erin on it. Not yet, anyway, and she was thankful for the reprieve anyway after such a close call. “Yeah, I’m good, I’ve got people,” she assured her, knowing she’d most likely end up crashing at Skylar and Nic’s again. Sounded pretty nice right about now, actually. She smiled her way, letting the relief trickle into her chest. “I’ll have to remember that. Maybe sharpen the heel on my pumps for when I get back to work--” she froze suddenly, realizing these jokes and this audience really didn’t mix. But Mila was barring her back, a new sense of alarm on her face. Sand? She didn’t know what to think, just knew on some level inside of her, the one had grown familiar with this sort of supernatural fuckery, that Mila was right. “What now?” She nealy grumbled, but there was no time to question it. Sand seeped into the stairwell from every nook and cranny, slicking the floor with a thin layer. The only other way was back where they came from--or up. “C’mon,” she grabbed the other woman’s arm, shielding her eyes and mouth from the sand trickling in around them as she made a run for the rooftop.

They just couldn’t catch a break today. Mila glanced over at Erin and wondered slightly if the woman was cursed, actually cursed. How else could you explain two clearly supernatural oddities attacking within an hour? Even for the Crest, that was pushing it. Taking a step back, Mila felt the sand growing, shifting and forming of its own volition, gearing up for something. This was not good. “Shit.” Holding her heels in one hand and Erin’s hand on her other arm, Mila spun and made for the stairwell again, hoping beyond hope they could get to the roof. Once they were there, she hadn’t the foggiest of what they would do next. How did you fight sand? Mila charged forward, sneaking cautionary glances around corners to make sure they didn’t run into that fucking mirror thing again. Sand poured in on them from all directions, gathering so loudly it was almost overwhelming. Mila threw a hand over her head, trying to shield her face. She’d never been so happy to have a third eyelid, praising her lamia heritage. Mila slammed her entire body weight against the metal door leading up to the roof and blinked against the sunlight, feeling a single grain of sand catch under her membrane. “Fuck,” she grumbled, ushering Erin out before slamming the door closed. For a moment, the sand trickled under the door, a thin layer of moving earth. The lamia rubbed at her eye, attempting to free it of the grating foreign matter. She couldn’t be distracted, not now, not when they were under attack. “Is it still coming?? What do we do now??”

Miraculously, Erin had burst through the rooftop door without getting even one grain in her mouth or eyes, thank god. Her hair, her clothes, her shoes? That was another story. She was still shaking it off as she ran behind a vent, waiting, watching with Mila. “I don’t know, I don’t hear anything,” she whispered, staying still and alert. She couldn’t wrap her mind around what ominous thing was awaiting them on the other side of the door that was capable of sweeping a small beach worth’s of sand. “You alright?” She asked, noting the red eye and the way Mila was rubbing her eyes. It was still quiet though, too quiet, even as the sand continued to blow out from under the door. Erin glanced around, grabbing a piece of rain-battered plywood that had been left up there. It wasn’t much but it was all they had, save for Mila’s heels. “Stay here,” she instructed. “But keep those heels ready?” She tried to smile, but she couldn’t hide how terrified she was of what was possibly waiting for them on the other side of that door. She knew she sure as fuck wasn’t going to wait around for it to pounce though. Taking a deep breath, she paused, then yanked the door open, holding the plywood up, ready to strike. The door opened to--nothing. Erin waited, gripping the wood harder, but the sand just blew quietly on to the rooftop. But nothing. It was quiet, again. Eerily so.

Mila crouched behind the vent, still rubbing furiously at her eye. She couldn’t see well normally, and this was really putting a damper on what little sight she had. Instead she turned to her other sense, letting her bare feet feel the vibrations. Erin’s footsteps echoed through her body, and the soft drifting of sand, but no thunderous rumblings, not like before. She peeked out from her hiding place, her heels at the ready. “Do we need the heels?” She called, wishing there was a way for her stilettos to actually help. “Is it...I think it’s gone? Whatever the hell it was?” Whatever had been moving the sand, maneuvering it after them, seemed to have abandoned it’s hunt. One eye blurry beyond belief, Mila glanced around for any reflective surfaces. “Are we- is it fucking over?” She stepped out carefully, slipping back into her shoes. “I swear, most of my home visits aren’t quite so...eventful.”

The hall was empty, save for the layers of sand wisping around Erin’s feet. For now, the danger seemed to be gone but the foreboding feeling left in its wake was hard to ignore. It felt… unfinished. They’d gotten way too lucky to have run from not just one but two mysterious whatevers that had decided to knock down their doors and mirrors today. Tentatively, Erin stepped forward into the hall doorway, ready to swing if necessary. “I think we’re… okay?” It didn’t feel right to say it either. Her heart was still racing and she kicked some of the sand in the stairwell, as if she was waiting for it to spring back to life. She looked to Agent Darzi, letting out a breath. “I hope not, otherwise I’m going to have to decline a follow up.” She ran a hand down her face, contemplated dropping the plywood, opting to grip it a little tighter. Nodding at the other woman, she kept her eyes on the stairwell. “Are you sure you’re okay?” She asked one more time.

Mila smiled lightly, brushing the sand off her clothes where the grains fell lifelessly to the ground. “Don’t worry, I think if I have any further questions I’ll just email.” They made their way cautiously back down the stairwell, the building looking menacingly...normal. “Me? Oh yeah, just...tired I think.” Tired was an understatement. The pain in her eye subsided, making way for an indescribable fatigue. Then again, she had just run from two mystery monsters, in stilettos no less. “And I’m not even the one who got strangled. Make sure you get some rest, and uh...drink some tea?” Mila shuffled closer to the exit. “And I’ll send my assistant by to pick up the paperwork, I really ought to get home.” She could feel her muscles aching to lay down and honestly, she wanted nothing more than to take a long, hot bath in a room with absolutely no mirrors.

[chocolatemin]

[a/n: i guess i got carried away a little on writing and did not notice fjgfuhgf anyway, i hope you enjoy!]

word count: 7.5k

part one

——————-　❈　——————

Beomgyu and you became one of the most known detectives in your city. Having you teamed up with each other, you were unstoppable; you were feared by the evil-doers and loved by the justice-seekers and the number of crimes gradually decreased as time flew.

"Two years had passed since the Phantom last stole a government property, but where is he now?" Your ears perked up at the sudden mention of the alias, "Phantom" and your eyes darted towards the TV in your office, you watched as the anchor spoke, "There are no news regarding the famous thief for the past two years. People were curious of what happened and why the Phantom suddenly vanished." You winced at the way the anchor called him 'thief', it doesn't sound pleasing to your ears as you knew the person behind that mask, but you cannot possibly deny the truth.

"Why is your face like that? You look like you've seen something disgusting." "Oh, you're back." Beomgyu dropped his coat on the backrest of his own swivel chair, yes, you and Beomgyu are now sharing the same office you had for yourself two years ago.

 "Look at the news."

"The thief of the night, known for his alias "the Phantom", suddenly disappeared without a warning. The city police released a statement that they did not find any trace of him. They also claimed that he might be included in the biggest heist that happened during the government elections and died during the massacre. However, the city police haven't issued updates regarding the Phantom as of this month."

"At least the police gave an honest statement, instead of lying that they caught him." He spoke in a joking manner, "Isn't that a tough move?" "Yes, it'll hurt our pride and damage the people's trust but I don't care about the backlash, we are not superheroes by any means." Beomgyu sat down on the chair in front of your desk and titled his head to face you, "I can't believe people are still looking for me, aren't they supposed to be glad that the Phantom is long gone?"

"We can't blame them though, it was sudden, and the Phantom helped people but in an illegal way." It was your turn to face him and look straight in his eyes, "I'm just glad that you stopped." 

"If it weren't for my favorite detective! It was a great deal! I get to be with you and now, even share an office with you, plus I got promoted! I owe you a lot, honestly." Beomgyu's hand hovered on the top of yours, which are placed on your table. He beamed a smile at you and gave your hand a gentle squeeze. How can you not love this man?

"I think it's me who owe you a lot. Looking back to the days when I was just starting my career, you always stood by me and helped me. You always brought me coffee and even stayed up so that I won't be alone in this office at night." You shyly tore your gaze away from him. You heard him giggle lightly, oh heavens- that was the most beautiful thing you've ever heard today, besides his voice. "You're blushing, are you embarrassed?" You heard him laugh and turned to face him, and you swear you can see how his eyes sparkle as he laughed. "What is so funny?" You gave him a cold stare and huffed, "Nothing, you just looked kind of adorable." You can feel your face heating up again from hearing those words, "Shut up. I am not."

"Well, you do actually. Don't you notice how cute you are?" He is teasing you, you can hear it from the tone of his voice, you still tried not to show how flustered you are. "You know what? Shut up." You rolled your eyes and was about to pull your hand away from his but he tightened his grip. You were shocked and looked up to him, you can see the seriousness in his face, "But seriously, thank you." He squeezed your hand and gave you a warm smile. You can see the sincerity in his eyes. "No, thank you." You smiled back but it was cut short by a cough from your office door.

"Sorry to interrupt you two, but Taehyun wants you in his office, now." Officer Huening Kai, the police department secretary, spoke loudly, giving the two of you an awkward look before looking away. You immediately pulled back your hand and gave him a smile, though you know it looked awkward. 

"We'll be there in five." He nodded before exiting the office.You stood up before looking at Beomgyu, "What do you think is that about?" 

"I don't know, I'm kind of nervous."

"I am too."

You reached Taehyun's office and knocked a few times. You heard a muffled 'come in' due to the door that stood in front of you. You gave Beomgyu one last glance before twisting the knob. 

"Have a seat, you two."

"Good afternoon, Deputy Commissioner."

"It has come into my knowledge that your partner is soon going to retire from being the Head Detective." You knew what he was talking about, you glanced at Beomgyu and caught him looking at you, eyes widened. "Are you?" You bit your lip and nod.

"It is such unexpected news. That is why I asked you two, to come here. I want to discuss some things to you, especially Beomgyu, since you will be taking over the position." You both nod and Taehyun proceeded to the discussion.

--

"Thank you, Deputy Commissioner." Beomgyu spoke softly, you can feel the disappointment in his voice that he is trying to hide. "I hope you understand, Beomgyu. I know you will do well," Taehyun smiled before continuing, "I know you'll miss your partner."

"No doubt, Deputy Commissioner." Beomgyu gave a faint smile.

"You may now go back to your office."

You nod and thank Taehyun before heading to the door. Beomgyu still hasn't spoken and was silent until you reached your office. 

"Why didn't you tell me about this?" He faced you, you can see the glint of sadness in his eyes. You said you will stay with him. "I was planning to tell you sooner..." You mumbled quietly, guilt forming a pit in your stomach, "I am sorry, Beomgyu." You gave him an apologetic look.

"What am I going to do now? You are leaving next week. I will be all alone in this room." You went up to him and held his hand, "I was just finding the right timing to tell you. I don't want you to be upset and sad about that."

"I am upset right now."

You sighed and pulled Beomgyu into a hug, he was shocked and you felt him stiffened in your arms, "I am sorry, Beomgyu. I promise I'll make it up to you." He put his arms around you loosely. "By that, you have to spend dinner with me till next week." 

You released him and threw a confused look, it is not what you expected. You expected an answer like, 'I don't want to talk to you for a while' or something else, not this. "Sure."

Beomgyu flashed a smile, though you can see that he's still sad and he wanted to laugh at how oblivious you are. "Okay then!"

--

You didn't notice how the days flew quickly and before you knew it, it is already your last day at work. 

"Is there anything left?" You asked, taking a double check at your belongings. Beomgyu helped you pack your things and even offered to help you carry your things home. 

"Me." Beomgyu spoke softly causing you to turn your head towards him, he’s looking at you intently. Your heart broke just because of one word. 

Beomgyu stepped closer to you."Beomgyu-" "Will I still be able to change your mind?" There were two things why you decided to retire from this job: one, you are planning to start your own business-- making pastries even if it is completely different from your job; and two, you liked Beomgyu for a while now. And by while, it meant years. You fully knew about the "No Dating Policy" with your co-workers, you didn't understand why that only applies to the higher positions. It's not that you are assuming that he likes you too but it is better to be safe, especially you are planning to confess sooner or later.

"I'm just kidding!" Beomgyu lightly tapped your shoulder before giving you a smile, he is still sad but he doesn't want to show it to you. You were relieved, "I will miss working with you." Beomgyu grinned, "Yeah? We're the most badass detectives ever! It is impossible not to miss you too."

"Let me help you carry these boxes."

The ride home was quiet but it wasn't awkward, you enjoyed each other's presence with the radio playing in the background. You slightly hummed to the song, Sweet Chaos by Day6. It reminded you of the days when you were still chasing him as the Phantom. You always become worked up because of him, both as the Phantom and as Beomgyu himself. It was a thrilling and chaotic roller coaster ride but you liked it. You knew you enjoyed those days even if you got little sleep just to figure out the Phantom's next move, as if he was challenging you to a game of wits, and how Beomgyu always looked after you whenever you forgot to take care of yourself.

"We're here." You snapped out of your haze and looked beside you. You saw that Beomgyu was already outside the car and was heading to open up the door for you. You thanked him before carrying the boxes inside your house. Beomgyu helped you from day 1 until your last day at work and you were grateful to him. "I wanted to say thank you for everything, Beomgyu." You smiled at him, "You're saying it as if we are never going to meet again.” He pouted and you both laughed.

"Don't you want to stay for dinner? I can cook for the both of us." Beomgyu just smiled, "Thank you for the offer, maybe next time?" You felt your heart ache at the rejection but Beomgyu had other plans, he wanted an excuse to meet you again sometime. "Sure!" You smiled back, shrugging off the negative. "You promised to keep in contact with me! I swear if you break that promise, I will never talk to you again!" He spoke in a child-like demeanor, putting his arms over his chest and huffed pretending to be angry, it was adorable and cute.

"I promise."

——————-　❈　——————

And so, you kept in contact with him. He was busy and always replied late to you but you don't have any hard feelings, you had undergone that and you understood his situation. He texted you that he'd be working overtime so he wouldn't be able to talk to you within the next few hours. An idea crossed your mind, you are going to cook dinner for him and bring it over. You bet he would be surprised but you were nervous, you don't have an idea on how he would react.

You excitedly head to the kitchen and prepare dinner. Maybe you can eat dinner with him too so you prepared a meal enough for two. You became frenetic after sparing a glance over the clock, it's quarter to seven but you still hadn't finished cooking. You quickly packed the food and headed to your room to prepare. You were rushing but did not forget to buy his favorite drink.

You arrived at the headquarters exactly at 7 pm. People greeted you as they exactly knew who you were. "Good evening, I am here to give something to the Head Detective. Is he in his office?" You asked the front desk and she gave you a nod. You smiled in return before heading off to your old office.Your heart is beating like crazy and your hands are cold. You knocked twice but heard nothing in response. You became more nervous and tried knocking a bit louder. "Please come in." Your breath hitched upon hearing the voice, it's been a while since you heard it in person. You carefully twisted the knob and quietly entered the room, not wanting to bother him.

You saw him busily tapping on the keyboard of his laptop. He is wearing glasses and he looked just perfect. The screen lightly reflected on his glasses and you can't help but notice how handsome he looked despite his eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

"Do you have the files I asked you to bring?" Beomgyu's voice filled the quiet room, with the tapping of keyboard on the background, you smiled to yourself, "Well, Head Detective, I didn't have the files but I have something else." “Please have a seat.” You were trying to stifle your laugh as you plopped yourself on the chair. 

“What did you bring?” 

Beomgyu did not bother to glance at you, making your heart sink a bit, you sat down and placed the bag on your lap. “I brought you dinner.” Your answer made him finally look at you and you were looking straight at him and trying not to burst into laughter. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open, “W-what are you doing here?” “Not even a greeting first?” You giggled, “I figured you haven’t had your dinner yet so I brought you.” You smiled at him and raised the bag on your lap to his view. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Why don’t you take a break first?” You suggested, still smiling at him, “I have yet to finish this report.” An idea crossed your mind, it was funny and embarrassing but you want to know what his reaction would be so it would be worth the shot, grinning to yourself, “Then why don’t I feed you instead?” And oh boy, you were right, his reaction was very amusing to look at, his ears became red and his face was flushed. When did you become so confident? You saw him choke on his own saliva and started coughing, you felt bad but you felt like you wanted to laugh at the same time. You rushed over to him but he stopped you by placing his hand in front of him, signalling you not to come closer.  

After about a minute, he took deep breaths to regain his composure back. “What was that?” He glared at you, face still flushed and ears still red as strawberries. “I was just suggesting something that could help you eat while you work..” “Don’t act like you are innocent!” Beomgyu crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes, “I know your intentions!” You laughed at his reaction and went back to your seat. 

“So, are you going to eat or am I going to feed you?” You asked in a teasing manner, you knew he would eventually give up. “You feed me while I work.” Beomgyu smirked, eyeing you mischievously, it was now your turn to choke on your own saliva and you heard him laugh. “Kidding, let’s eat!” He immediately stood up from his seat with a triumphant smile plastered across his face and went over to the table beside the window, flashing you a sly grin before taking a seat and you rolled your eyes at him.

You followed him and grabbed the chair across his seat but he stopped you, making you confused. “Sit here.” He tapped the seat on the side of the table. 

“Say, Gyu, do you think I’d be successful at my new business?” You looked at him and caught him staring at you but you shrugged it off, “Why? How has it been doing lately?” “It’s doing great, however, I feel like I want to put up a small shop and work there instead of working inside my kitchen.” “Then go ahead, that’s not a bad idea and more people will know about your business.” “I’ll think about that.” He gave you a faint smile and raised his brow, “But why call me that? What’s with the sudden nickname?” You sighed, why can’t he just let that slide? “You know what? Shut up.” Beomgyu laughed and poked your side before taking a sip on his favorite drink that you bought him, “I see, you like me.” “That’s very confident of you.” You shook your head and laughed along with him.

——————-　❈　——————

Beomgyu asked you to stay with him since he missed you so much and talked to you while he continued his work. While you on the other hand, sneaking pictures of him whenever he makes funny faces unconsciously so you have something to tease him about later and you felt proud of yourself that he didn’t catch you. You weren’t a detective for nothing.

“And, I’m done!” Beomgyu stretched his arms to the sides and yawned. “You must be tired, hardworking Head Detective.” You made sure to emphasize the word ‘hardworking’, something that will boost his confidence. You looked at him and saw him take off his coat and adjust his tie, loosening it a bit. You bit your lip before looking away. “Aren’t you tired? You came all the way here just to bring me dinner after working on piles of orders.” “I’m fine! Besides, I also wanted to see you.” “You wanted to see me?” Your eyes widened, “I-I wanted to s-see if you’re doing well on your work.” Your phone almost dropped out of your hand, “You didn’t miss me?” You caught him staring at you with an unreadable expression on his face, you became nervous and tried to hide it, “Of course, I miss you, we used to work together for years.” 

“Is that all I am to you?” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, you put down your phone and looked down, staring at your lap. You felt something caught up in your throat- you couldn’t give him an answer. You started thinking, what is going on between the two of you? There’s nothing, right? “Sorry for asking such stupid question. I’ll drive you home.” You heard shuffling from his seat, probably fixing his things. You can’t move, you were frozen to your seat and closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. You stood up and gathered your things, before trailing behind him. 

The ride was rather quiet and tension filled the air. You couldn’t utter a word and Beomgyu did not bother to glance at you. You’ve never seen him like this, this is definitely the first time, he was always cheerful and talkative as he had many exciting stories and jokes, it is a completely different side of him. You took all your courage and pushed aside your cowardice, “Gyu-” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“Please let me explain-” 

“Did you not ever see me as a friend, at least?” You can feel the disappointment and anger from his tone, taking a glance, you saw his eyes still fixed on the road. You wanted him to cool down his mind first, you were afraid of making him  angrier, so you stayed quiet. That killed him more. 

You were lost in your own unspoken thoughts and did not notice that you already reached your house. You snapped out of your trance when you heard the door to your left shut and saw Beomgyu heading to open the door for you. You shook your head and stepped out of the car, Beomgyu shut the door behind you and looked straight into your eyes, you shivered at his gaze. “Beomgyu, please listen to me.” 

“You have five minutes.” Beomgyu was never like this, he was always kind and considerate, maybe you hurt him so much with those words, just because you couldn’t truly express how much he meant to you. “Beomgyu, I don’t know how I will start but, y-you are important to me. I don’t see you just as an old coworker that I owe a lot, b-but I see you as a friend-- even more than that. I just couldn’t bring myself to admit it to you.”

“I’m tired of you giving mixed signals. I have feelings too.” You bit your lip at how cold and harsh he sounded, never in your life you wanted to be consumed by the ground until this moment. You were ashamed, you had no idea of what you were doing to him, mustering up all the courage left inside you after the conversation during the ride home, “I’m sorry for giving you such a hard time. But I want you to know that I'm in love with you.” With that, you felt a pair of arms engulf you into a warm hug, you buried your head on his chest and you could feel his heavy breathing along with his loud erratic heartbeat. Your breathing became uneven, as you wait for him to speak. 

“I’m in love with you too.” 

Before you knew it, you were already grabbing his collar, pulling him closer to you as you put your arm around his nape, tipping on your toes, closing your eyes as you crashed your lips into his. Beomgyu was taken aback by your sudden action but immediately snaked his arm around your waist as his eyes shut, pulling you closer to his body while the other cupping your cheek. It felt like time had stopped, and you were the only ones in the world. You felt your emotions pouring out while melting in each kiss as your lips were moving in perfect sync. You lightly pulled away from lack of air, slowly panting, you stared at his pretty orbs. 

You saw how his eyes crinkled into crescents and his nose scrunched as he grinned, before placing another quick chaste kiss. “So, are we together now?” You asked and Beomgyu shook his head, “I haven’t asked you yet.”

“Will you be my girlfriend?” He held your hand as he looked lovingly into your eyes. “Yes, I would love to be your girlfriend, Mr. Choi.” You smiled and pulled him into a hug, but before the hug even lasted a minute, his phone beeped.

“I think that’s Kai.” Beomgyu spoke, still hugging you.

“You won’t check it?”

“Later, on the drive back home. He must be looking for me, since he arrived first.” Beomgyu’s spoke quietly, almost like a whisper, “We’re neighbors.”

“Oh, I see. Shouldn’t you get going now?”

“Well, yeah. See you tomorrow at 7, lovely?” He pulled away and locked his gaze with yours.

“Are we going on a date?” Beomgyu  nodded his head and smiled. Pressing your lips against his for a peck before mumbling, “Yes.” 

[fericita-s]

Including Anna

A new story in the When All is Lost series that @the-spastic-fantastic and I are working on to tell the story of Iduna and Agnarr.  This one takes place as they are new parents, and leads up to the night of the accident and the visit to the trolls for healing.  Thank you @the-spastic-fantastic for the beta read and especially for the wonderful line about parental worry. Is it any wonder we feel a kinship to these characters?

***

“Agnarr! Quick, grab her! Before she goes to the fireplace again!” At Iduna’s words, Agnarr rushed into the room and scooped up his youngest daughter before she could push on the screen separating the fireplace from the girls’ bedroom.  The fire wasn’t lit, but the soot would be a mess and his formal Naval uniform was still being cleaned from the last time Anna had gotten into it and given him a hug.  Elsa might have magical ice powers, but Anna seemed to have magical mischief powers.

Agnarr picked up Anna and threw her up in the air, laughing with her as she gave a delighted shriek. "We have a whole staff! Maids! Cooks! Nannies! Can any of them keep you out of trouble, my dear?" He set Anna on the bed, tapped his nose against hers gave her a kiss on the forehead.

Iduna paused again in the story she was reading to Elsa and smiled at Agnarr. "Yes, but you're her father. And I don’t want a maid or a cook or a nanny to put our children to bed. Besides, the staff are all through for the day. Now the mischief management is up to us.”

Anna had been with her mother and Elsa until the draw of the fireplace had lured her out of bed. Now all four of them sat together, Agnarr wedging himself between Anna and the side of the bed, trying to keep her from any more bedtime adventures. Iduna continued the story about a mermaid and a prince, Elsa listening raptly, Anna getting sleepy. Agnarr smiled as she read, not paying attention to the story.  He was lost in a memory of when Iduna had surprised him by jumping down from a tree while he read the very same book. When they had both been lonely and without a family.  He looked at his daughters and his wife, and felt a rush of love at their presence. He didn’t want to be without them, without his family, ever again.

The story read, lullabies sung, prayers said, kisses given, denials for last glasses of water issued, Agnarr and Iduna closed the door behind them and walked down the hallway to their sitting room. Agnarr sat down with a heavy sigh and pulled Iduna down next to him on the couch. She turned and laid her head on the end of the couch and put her feet in his lap.  He slipped off her shoes and began to rub her feet, their own nightly ritual.  They were silent for a while, enjoying the quiet after the joyful chaos of putting the girls to bed. It was especially hard in the summer months when the sky stayed bright long past when they wanted to girls to be asleep.

As he massaged her soles, Agnarr mulled a thought that had been nagging at him with increasing persistency for some time. “Before we were married, you told me about a tea you could make to be sure any…premarital activities didn’t result in a baby.”

Iduna smiled, thinking of that conversation. “Yes, and I believe you told me you had to stay pure and kingly, duty over desire, something something.  Aren’t you glad we’re married now and you don’t have to worry about that anymore?”

“But I do worry.”

Iduna tilted her head with a quizzical look. “Worry?  About what?”

“About having more children.” His hands stilled, but kept holding her feet.

“Is this because Anna climbed out of the window last week? And used your scepter for a fairy wand? She’s two.  It will get easier.” Iduna rubbed her forehead.  Sometimes it was exhausting to even think about the antics of her youngest daughter.

Agnarr hugged her knees to his chest.   “It’s not about that. When you carried Elsa, I worried for you, cold all the time and shivering instead of sleeping. Anna’s birth was difficult.  And…Revna’s before that.” His voiced hitched on the name of their second born daughter.  Who was born but did not live.

Iduna swung her feet to the floor and sat up, her body facing him, her hands taking his. He felt her closeness and drew strength knowing that she was now with him and whole once more.  He cleared his throat and continued. “And it’s not just the magic – the ice, the heat. My mother died during my birth.  My father said she seemed strong and healthy right up until the end. But nothing helped her, not even my father begging the mountain men to comb for trolls and bring any healers to the castle.”

“Agnarr, I’m fine! I’ll be fine.” she brought a hand to his face, running her thumb over his mustache, cupping his cheek like he was one of the girls when they felt scared.

Gerda knocked on the door and entered with a tray of glogg and chocolate.

“Now I’m really fine! Thank you Gerda!” Iduna reached for the tray, broke off a piece of chocolate, and sighed as she ate.  

Agnarr picked up a mug of glogg and handed the other to Iduna. He tapped his against hers, saying “Skal,” good health, a toast as well as a wish.

***

It was a warm October day, and Iduna was harvesting the last of the lingonberries on the castle grounds. She was hoping to make a batch of vattlingon for Captain Calder who would distribute it to the departing vessels bound for long journeys.  It was the best remedy for preventing scurvy, and the sailors enjoyed the taste of home.

Elsa was helping, and had only squished a few berries while adding to the basket Iduna held. Anna had tried to eat one on off of the shrub, but made a face at the tart taste and spat it out in the dirt.  Now she was sitting in a particularly comfortable patch of dirt, trying to plant the half-eaten berry so a new shrub would grow. Mostly, she was stabbing the trowel into the soil and then placing the dirt over her legs while giggling.

Soon Elsa tired of helping and sat down next to Anna, trying to make a trowel out of ice. Anna stopped her digging to admire her sister’s attempts, clapping and laughing as Elsa’s efforts looked more and more like the trowel Anna held.

Iduna paused in her work to watch them, grateful that her daughters had each other, grateful that she had them.  And then, the prickling sensation of sadness came. Like a harvest, it kept cropping up, never lay fallow for long. Her grief for family lost never quite went away, just appeared anew in unexpected ways. Like watching Elsa clasp her hands together and recognizing her mother’s mannerism.  Seeing Anna’s laugh and thinking how it was an echo of Duvka’s. It was a joy and a sorrow. To see what was lost in what she had gained.

Maybe later she could pull Agnarr from his duties so the four of them could pick some more berries in the woods nearby.

As if by thinking about him summoned him, he appeared, walking out of the castle towards their spot in the garden.  He must have been able to see them from his meeting with Minister Wollen.

“Good afternoon!” he called, getting closer.

“How was your meeting? Did you convince Minister Wollen to take on teaching duties at the academy?”

Agnarr drew close and kissed her, his arm around her waist.

“Convincing her was easy. I can now talk Anna into taking naps, so anything pales in comparison to that.”

Hearing her name, Anna looked up. “Papa!” She pulled herself out of the dirt and ran over to give him a muddy hug.  He bent down to embrace her, and gave her a tight squeeze. She released him and went back to her patch of dirt.

“What are you doing, Elsa?”

She held up the ice trowel and Agnarr marveled over it, exclaiming, “What a wonderful likeness! Will it work?”

Elsa smiled and showed him how she could dig with it. “This is the fifth one.  The others weren’t so good.”

Agnarr leaned over to give her a kiss on the head. “It’s good you kept trying.  First tries are not usually perfect.  You have to keep working to get it right sometimes. That’s good for a future queen to know.” Elsa grinned at him and then went back to perfecting the trowel, trying to add the rosemaling design that was on the handle of Anna’s.

“I was planning to ask you if you could spare some time from your duties to go on a walk in the woods with us. I’m sure you could use the break.”

Agnarr laughed. “Governing is difficult work, but keeping up with these two is harder.  But a better job no one could find.” He kissed her again and said “Let’s go now. We have time before the Sundbergs join us for dinner. And my jacket is already muddy, so it’d be a shame to waste that.”

***

After dinner and dessert and a little bit of dancing, Iduna and Agnarr said goodnight to Henrik and his family. Elsa and Anna had been put to bed by the nanny a few hours earlier, and were hopefully asleep by now.  Walking upstairs, Iduna asked “Did you mean what you said earlier? That being king is easier than being a father?”

Agnarr nodded. “I do believe that to be true. But I know ‘king’ is the only title out of those two that I would willingly give up.”

Iduna linked her arm in his, voices quieting as they walked past the girls’ room. “As king, you can assign all of our best people to the task at hand.  Minister Wollen for any delicate matters of diplomacy.  Captain Calder for trade disputes.  With the girls, we can’t have someone else decide how much dinner is enough to warrant a chocolate course, or how well-behaved a two-year-old should be during a church service.”

Agnarr thought to himself that was exactly what a royal nanny usually did, but didn’t want to speak it aloud.  He hadn’t liked spending more time with a nanny than with his father as a child, and since Iduna had no experience in the lives of royalty prior to living in the castle, he saw no reason to tell her of the traditions that neither one of them would like.

“It’s a weighty responsibility, taking care of their wellbeing.  I suppose a king has the wellbeing of an entire kingdom to concern himself with, but it’s more about the structures and policies that allow the people to thrive. With Anna and Elsa there are so many things I want to get right, so many things I want to say and experiences I want them to have and to avoid. I’m glad we don’t have as many children as we have subjects.”

Iduna laughed. “What a thought!”

Agnarr opened the door to their room and put his hand on her back to guide her to the couch. They sat down and took their usual nighttime spots. Iduna’s head rested on the end of the couch, her feet in his lap.  Agnarr took off his formal coat and they sat that way in silence for a time, Agnarr thinking about his conversation with Henrik in the library as they waited for dinner to be served.

“Henrik told me you helped his wife with some preventative measures after their last.  That was a frightening birth, he said. Each of ours have been a terror for me, and hearing him tell of how she almost died, I – “

He stopped, unable to continue, unsure of what words to use to convey what he felt. He took a breath, and then his voice changed, like he was in a council meeting strategizing for the best way forward out of a crisis.  No emotion, just a plan that needed to be put into motion. “I don’t want any more children.  We have two healthy daughters and I am blessed.  I don’t want to risk losing you, Iduna.  I couldn’t.  I lived without a family for years before we were married and even then I had you as a friend. I need you.  Please – do what you have to do to keep it from happening again. If there’s something I should drink, I will. No more children.” The pleading in his eyes belied the king’s command of his statement.

Iduna’s hand dropped, but she kept it in her lap. “But a son – don’t you want a son to take over as king?”

“We don’t need a male heir. Elsa will make a fine queen. The English were fine with Queen Elizabeth and now Queen Victoria is doing well. Arendelle’s flag will always fly.  It doesn’t need to fly under the rule of a king. As you show me daily, queens are very capable. If it means your life or a son, I choose you.” He turned to look at her, smiling with a sadness behind it. “Did you want more children?”

Iduna looked alert now, the relaxed sleepiness in her posture gone. She paused before answering, her voice quiet. “I hadn’t thought about not having more. But I will give it thought.” They were silent, Agnarr tense and still.

He stood, an abrupt motion that unsteadied her position on the couch, and she felt unmoored, shifting back and forth.  “I’ll go down the hall and get Gerda to bring up some glogg. Perhaps the chocolate cake from dinner?” Iduna nodded and he left.

***

It was good to have a minute alone with her thoughts.  She so rarely had that luxury. Being a mother was more wonderful and more difficult than she had imagined, and though she had longed for it, she sometimes mourned the loss of freedom and loss of sleep.

Since becoming a mother, she had never felt completely calm.  There had always been worry, a constant companion as she thought about what was best for Elsa and Anna, what she could do to protect them, what she could do to prepare them for the life of a princess when it was still so foreign to her. Her capacity for joy seemed to have increased, as well as her capacity for fear.

And then Elsa’s powers – it hadn’t opened her forest homeland the way she thought it would, but it could at any moment.  At any moment, more people could find out about Elsa’s magic and their reactions might not be as delighted as Agnarr’s had been.  She hadn’t forgotten the Arendellians’ suspicion about the magic her people used in the forest. Suspicion and fear were unpredictable.  She worried daily, hourly, about what that meant for Elsa. It was with her when she woke, when she saw her daughter perform her enchanting miracles, when she tried to drift off at night with troubled thoughts.

Iduna thought about the fear in Agnarr’s tone as he made his request and realized that he wasn’t asking this for her sake or for the kingdom. She understood that he was asking her to do this for him, a request not from a King to a Queen, but a husband to a wife.  

She knew what it was to be fearful. She knew what it was to lose a loved one and never quite recover.

Agnarr entered the room with two mugs of glogg. “I couldn’t find anyone still awake to serve us the cake.”

Iduna reached for the cup and squeezed his hand as she took it, thanking him. As they settled back into the couch, she pressed her body against his, head on his shoulder, thigh against thigh. She wanted him to feel her closeness, to feel that she was alive and well.

“I like that I can see my mother in Elsa’s face, Duvka in Anna’s playfulness. Having a child is like a way to see, to remember, the family I’ve lost.  A way for them to live on.”

Iduna placed her mug on the floor and took one of his hands in two of hers and held it tightly.  “But I don’t need more children.” She sought his eyes and spoke, willing him to hear and believe what she was saying. “It would be nice to not end up like that poor Queen of the Southern Isles.  She just had her thirteenth son the year Elsa was born. Thirteen boys! It’s a given at least one of them won’t turn out right.”

Agnarr relaxed into the couch as she spoke, receiving the gift of her light-hearted acquiescence, his laugh one of relief and joy. “Probably several of them won’t turn out right.”

“Tell Midwife Jora the sad news that she is out of royal work indefinitely. And don’t keep doing that with your hand or else we will need her after all. I’ll need a few days to get the brew going.”

“I think I can figure out something for us to do in the meantime.” Agnarr leaned in to kiss her, his relief at her agreement making him feel giddy, and he felt he had secured a future of joy.

***

The winter was the best time to take the girls to Market Square. No one noticed in the chilly weather if Elsa’s touch made something turn to ice or grow cold. Anna in particular liked watching the busy activities of the market, the sailors unloading goods, the fishermen stacking their catch on mounds of ice, the Yuletide bunting being hung over doorways and windows. Now the yearly royal visit to Eir’s came before the bell was rung, to give out coats and mittens to the children so they were well dressed for the ceremony within the castle gates. Eir smiled watching Anna and Elsa at play in the snow with the children in her care, and if she noticed that Elsa was able to make more snowballs than anyone else, or more than seemed possible from the pile of snow she had been near, she didn’t say anything.

***

When the royal family stood in front of open doors and rang the Yule Bell, everyone noticed the pride in the king’s smile as he and Elsa held the rope, the queen holding Anna. Elsa’s bare hands clutched the rope and she pulled.  Agnarr, gripping it further up, pulled as well and the loud tolling startled Anna who laughed and reached for the rope herself.  Agnarr smiled to see it, and hoped she would always reach for what she wanted, and that it would always be within her grasp.

***

In August, Anna was three and she was a little easier than she had been at two.  She was now a constant companion to her sister, begging her to “do the magic” and utterly enthralled with the ice and snow Elsa conjured. Iduna and Agnarr liked to watch them at play, creating worlds and voicing stories that were so imaginative, they thought of inviting that Danish author to come listen and be inspired.

But bedtime had gotten harder, and Anna, now out of a crib and in a bed, would wake her sister up and beg her for a nighttime session of playing with the ice. And one night, it ended in disaster.

***

Iduna clutched Anna to her chest as she slumbered peacefully, so relieved that she would heal from her injury that she couldn’t speak. Magical wounds were not something she could cure, and though the trolls were no friends of hers, she was grateful for the healing. She was not grateful for the words of prophecy Pabbie spoke. The last time she heard his voice, he was telling her to leave her home.  Now, he was showing her a vision of a mob pulling and tearing at her eldest daughter, and she thought about the body in the woods, the murdered Northuldra man. The fear she felt as a fourteen-year-old was just as pressing, just as strangling as it had been then. She had no words, it felt like they had been pulled out of her by a frenzied mob. Agnarr’s rang out in the clearing, echoing loudly among the trolls and the rocks. “No, we’ll protect her.  She can learn to control it I’m sure. ‘Til then we’ll lock the gates. Reduce the staff.  We will limit her contact with people.  We’ll keep her powers hidden from everyone.  Including Anna.”

Iduna looked down at Anna and thought that this was a death after all. A death of a kind. Certainly an ending, and one from which she did not know how to begin again.

[newstfionline]

Thursday, November 12, 2020

Canada Is Relieved at Biden’s Win (NYT) On a snowy evening in December 2016, a month after Donald Trump was elected president of the United States, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau of Canada held a rare farewell state dinner for the departing vice president, Joseph R. Biden Jr. It was like a tearful goodbye between two old friends. “We are more like family. That’s the way the vast majority of Americans feel about Canada and Canadians,” Mr. Biden said to a hall packed with politicians in Ottawa. “The friendship between us is absolutely critical to the United States.” He ended with a toast: “Vive le Canada. Because we need you very, very badly.” After four years of surprise tariffs, stinging insults and threats from President Trump, a giddy jubilation and sense of deep relief spread across Canada on Saturday, with the news that Mr. Biden had won the presidency. Many Canadians hope to return to the status of cherished sibling to the United States, and that the president-elect’s personal connection to Canada, and that of his running mate, Senator Kamala Harris, will help heal the wounds.

States cite smooth election (AP) The 2020 election unfolded smoothly across the country and without any widespread irregularities, according to state officials and election experts, a stark contrast to the baseless claims of fraud being leveled by President Donald Trump following his defeat. Election experts said the large increase in advance voting—107 million people voting early in person and by mail—helped take pressure off Election Day operations. There were also no incidents of violence at the polls or voter intimidation. “The 2020 general election was one of the smoothest and most well-run elections that we have ever seen, and that is remarkable considering all the challenges,” said Ben Hovland, a Democrat appointed by Trump to serve on the Election Assistance Commission, which works closely with officials on election administration. Following Democrat Joe Biden’s victory, Trump has sought to discredit the integrity of the election and argued without evidence that the results will be overturned. Republican lawmakers have said the president should be allowed to launch legal challenges, though many of those lawsuits have already been turned away by judges and those that remain do not include evidence of problems that would change the outcome of the race.

Future of business travel unclear as virus upends work life (AP) For the lucrative business travel industry, Brian Contreras represents its worst fears. A partner account executive at a U.S. tech firm, Contreras was used to traveling frequently for his company. But nine months into the pandemic, he and thousands of others are working from home and dialing into video conferences instead of boarding planes. Contreras manages his North American accounts from Sacramento, California and doesn’t expect to travel for work until the middle of next year. Even then, he’s not sure how much he will need to. “Maybe it’s just the acceptance of the new normal. I have all of the resources necessary to be on the calls, all of the communicative devices to make sure I can do my job,” he said. “There’s an element of face-to-face that’s necessary, but I would be OK without it.” That trend could spell big trouble for hotels, airlines, convention centers and other industries that rely so heavily on business travelers like Contreras. Work travel represented 21% of the $8.9 trillion spent on global travel and tourism in 2019, according to the World Travel and Tourism Council. Amazon, which told it employees to stop traveling in March, says it has saved nearly $1 billion in travel expenses so far this year. The online shopping giant, with more than 1.1 million employees, is the second-largest employer in the U.S. At Southwest Airlines, CEO Gary Kelly said while overall passenger revenue is down 70%, business travel—normally more than one-third of Southwest’s traffic—is off 90%. U.S. hotels relied on business travel for around half their revenue in 2019, or closer to 60% in big cities like Washington, according to Cindy Estis Green, the CEO of hospitality data firm Kalibri Labs.

Final weeks of historic hurricane season bring new storms (AP) Just when you thought it should be safe to go back to the water, the record-setting tropics are going crazy. Again. Tropical Storm Eta is parked off the western coast of Cuba, dumping rain. When it finally moves again, computer models and human forecasters are befuddled about where it will go and how strong it will be. Meanwhile, Tropical Storm Theta—which formed overnight and broke a record as the 29th named Atlantic storm of the season—is chugging east toward Europe on the cusp of hurricane status. The last time there were two named storms churning at the same time this late in the year was in December 1887, Colorado State University hurricane researcher Phil Klotzbach said. But wait there’s more. A tropical wave moving across the Atlantic somehow survived the mid-November winds that usually decapitate storms. The system now has a 70% chance of becoming the 30th named storm. That’s Iota on your already filled scorecard. If it forms, it is heading generally toward the same region of Central America that was hit by Eta. Never before have three named storms been twirling at the same time this late in the year, Klotzbach said. Hurricane records go back to 1851, but before the satellite era, some storms were likely missed.

Religious Persecution Is Worsening Worldwide (CT) Dictators are the worst persecutors of believers. This perhaps uncontroversial finding was verified for the first time in the Pew Research Center’s 11th annual study surveying restrictions on freedom of religion in 198 nations. The median level of government violations reached an all-time high in 2018, as 56 nations (28%) suffer “high” or “very high” levels of official restriction. The number of nations suffering “high” or “very high” levels of social hostilities toward religion dropped slightly to 53 (27%). Considered together, 40 percent of the world faces significant hindrance in worshiping God freely. And the trend continues to be negative. Since 2007, when Pew began its groundbreaking survey, the median level of government restrictions has risen 65 percent. The level for social hostilities has doubled.

Critics, protesters call removal of Peruvian president a legislative coup (Washington Post) The little-known head of Peru’s Congress took the helm of the South American nation Tuesday amid a public outcry over the surprise removal of the country’s popular president, Martín Vizcarra. Vizcarra’s ouster late Monday and the inauguration of interim president Manuel Merino amounted to a return of the political chaos that has long plagued Peru, where nearly every president since 1990 has resigned, been indicted or been jailed amid clouds of corruption. One former president killed himself. Yet at a time when the Andean nation is confronting one of the world’s most lethal coronavirus outbreaks, Vizcarra’s ouster, based on still-unproven bribery allegations, appeared to be fundamentally different. Critics called it a congressional coup staged by Machiavellian legislators desperate to halt his anti-corruption and political reform campaigns, which took aim at their pocketbooks and threatened to end many of their political careers. Under Vizcarra, Peru adopted laws that took on festering malfeasance within the 130-member legislature, where 68 lawmakers are now under investigation or indictment for alleged crimes ranging from money laundering to murder. Members of the current Congress have been prohibited from seeking reelection, and anyone with active charges is barred from running. Critics now fear that Merino—who previously sought to turn the military against Vizcarra and attempted an earlier removal on different grounds in September—will seek to lift those rules, allowing a compromised political class to preserve itself and setting up a new period of instability in this nation of 32 million.

Generation COVID (Foreign Policy) A report from the British school inspection agency found that children had suffered from being outside the regular school system during lockdown, with some younger children regressing from being potty-trained back to diapers and older children showing reduced reading stamina. The chief inspector for schools found that the children experiencing the worst effects were those whose parents’ employment did not allow for flexible or at-home working.

Ukraine President Volodymyr Zelenskiy tests positive for Covid-19 (AP) Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskiy announced Monday that he has tested positive for coronavirus infection and will be working in self-isolation while being treated. “There are no lucky people in the world for whom Covid-19 does not pose a threat,” Zelenskiy said on Twitter. “However, I feel good. I promise to isolate myself and I continue to work.” Zelenskiy became president in 2019 as a political neophyte, previously known as an actor and comedian. He became popular in the country for a TV sitcom, “Servant of the People,” in which he played the role of a teacher who unexpectedly becomes president after making a rant about corruption that goes viral. He handily defeated incumbent Petro Poroshenko. Ukraine’s coronavirus infections began surging in late summer and have put the country’s underpaid doctors and underequipped hospitals under severe pressure.

Nagorno-Karabakh: Turkey wins the war? (Foreign Policy/Eurointelligence) Russia may have secured a peace deal to end a six-week conflict between Armenia and Azerbaijan over Nagorno-Karabakh, but Turkey has won the war. Ankara threw its political support behind Azerbaijan and employed Turkish cutting-edge drones and military expertise to allow Azerbaijan to roll over Armenian positions in the difficult mountain area under dispute. The conflict is not new, and occasional fighting has been going on there since 1994, but this time it is a decisive victory. This victory will boost Erdogan’s image as a strongman with geopolitical weight, and helps him put a foot into the South Caucasus. Hard power impresses former Soviet countries.

Hong Kong’s pro-democracy lawmakers resign en masse (AP) Hong Kong’s pro-democracy lawmakers said Wednesday that they were resigning en masse following a move by the semi-autonomous Chinese territory’s government to disqualify four of their fellow pro-democracy legislators. The 15 lawmakers announced the move in a news conference Wednesday, hours after the Hong Kong government said it was disqualifying the four legislators. The disqualifications came after China’s National People’s Congress Standing Committee, which held meetings on Tuesday and Wednesday, passed a resolution stating that those who support Hong Kong’s independence or refuse to acknowledge China’s sovereignty over the city, or threaten national security or ask external forces to interfere in the city’s affairs, should be disqualified. Beijing has in recent months moved to clamp down on opposition voices in Hong Kong with the imposition of a national security law, after months of anti-government protests last year rocked the city. A mass resignation by the pro-democracy camp would leave Hong Kong’s legislature with only pro-Beijing lawmakers. The pro-Beijing camp already makes up a majority of the city’s legislature.

Iran sanctions continue (Foreign Policy) The Trump administration doesn’t intend to give up its “maximum pressure” campaign on Iran just because it lost an election. On Tuesday, the U.S. Treasury Department announced new sanctions on six companies and four people accused of supplying components to Iran Communication Industries, a company run by the Iranian military that is already under U.S. and EU sanctions. Treasury Secretary Steve Mnuchin said the United States would continue to take action against those that support Iran’s “militarization and proliferation efforts.”

Frantic search after medicines vanish from Lebanon shelves (AP) She is a nurse at a Beirut hospital, and still Rita Harb can’t find her grandfather’s heart drugs. She has searched pharmacies up and down Lebanon, called friends abroad. Not even her connections with doctors could secure the drugs. Unlike many amid Lebanon’s financial crash, she can afford them—they just aren’t there. To get by, her 85-year-old grandfather is substituting his medicine with more pills of a smaller concentration to reach his dosage. That too could run out soon. Drugs for everything from diabetes and blood pressure to anti-depressants and fever pills used in COVID-19 treatment have disappeared from shelves around Lebanon. Officials and pharmacists say the shortage was exacerbated by panic buying and hoarding after the Central Bank governor said that with foreign reserves running low, the government won’t be able to keep up subsidies, including on drugs. That announcement “caused a storm, an earthquake,” said Ghassan al-Amin, head of the pharmacist syndicate. Lebanese now scour the country and beyond for crucial medications. The elderly ask around religious charities and aid groups. Family members plead on social media or travel to neighboring Syria. Expats are sending in donations. It’s the newest stage in the economic collapse of this country of 5 million, once a regional hub for banking, real estate and medical services. More than half the population has been pushed into poverty and people’s savings have lost value. Public debt is crippling, and the local currency plunged, losing nearly 80% of its value. The health sector is buckling under the financial strain and coronavirus pandemic.

‘Countdown to catastrophe’ in Yemen as U.N. warns of famine—again (Reuters) Millions of men, women and children in war-torn Yemen are facing famine—again, top United Nations officials warned on Wednesday as they appealed for more money to prevent it—again. “We are on a countdown right now to a catastrophe,” U.N. food chief David Beasley told the U.N. Security Council. “We have been here before ... We did almost the same dog-and-pony show. We sounded the alarm then.” The United Nations describes Yemen as the world’s largest humanitarian crisis, with 80% of the people in need of help. “If we choose to look away, there’s no doubt in my mind Yemen will be plunged into a devastating famine within a few short months,” Beasley told the 15-member council. In late 2017, U.N. aid chief Mark Lowcock warned that Yemen was then facing “the largest famine the world has seen for many decades with millions of victims”. “We prevented famine two years ago,” Lowcock told the Security Council on Wednesday. “More money for the aid operation is the quickest and most efficient way to support famine prevention efforts right now.”

[chysgoda]

Rivalry of Concepts Tales from the Architect’s Bureau

Word Count: 1881

Rating: G Spoilers: 5.0, tales from the shadows

Author’s Notes: Various micro scenes from the days before the End Times. 

“No.”

“Sir, it is a concept that only a skilled and astute artist can use effectively.”

Hades glared at the artist on the other side of his desk as he steepled his fingers together in front of his face. There was a list of… problem children within the Bureau. Citizens that with astounding regularity caused chaos and disaster within the halls of his domain. Shupakor was on that list.  “We do not restrict the use of concepts unless there is a public safety hazard, and a paint is not a safety hazard. Even if I were to entertain the ridiculous notion it would be the creator of the concept that would have exclusive use.”

“With all due respect Sir-“

“Respect would have been NOT terrorizing my staff until I had to come intervene.” Hades said dryly. Shupakor’s chest puffed out in indignation but the Architect glared his gold eyes intensely perturbed behind his mask. “The answer is No. try to appeal this again and I WILL censure you.”

~*~*~*~*~

“Tewaple!” Hythlodaeus stood up and rounded his desk to greet his friend. The lanky figure grinned brightly as he embraced the Chief of the Bureau of the Architect. Tewaple cut a memorable figure, paint splashes stained the hems of his sleeves and his mask, his robes fit horribly because he never bothered to create the things to fit properly. They embraced and Hythlodaeus motioned to one of the chairs in front of his desk as he took the other one. “The paperwork for you’re new concept for a paint just crossed my desk.”

“That’s what I was hoping to speak with you about!” Tewaple’s tone would have been overly enthusiastic for anyone else. For him it was nearly professional.

Hythlodaeus arched an eyebrow behind his mask. “This one isn’t going to need an appeal my friend.”

“I know, I know, but I’d like to ask a favor.” Tewaple gestured broadly.

“And that is?”

“I want to ban Shupakor from using it.”

Hythlodaeus pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. “Tewaple, this is why you’re on the list of problem children.”

“I know that he’s trying to get exclusive use of the concept Nyx submitted.” The artist protested.

“And you know he will get the same answer.” Hythlodaeus sighed. “He’s in Emet-Selch’s office now, Hades had to intervene when he antagonized one of our new staff almost to tears.”

“Jackass,” Tewaple grumbled.

“I do not disagree,” Hythlodaeus sighed. “Was there anything else?”

“Were you still planning on coming to the gallery opening?” Tewaple asked as he stood.

The other man nodded, “I am and I think I’m going to drag Hades’s new protege along she’s the one that Shupakor upset.”

Tewaple arched an eyebrow, “Not something I’d expect from a student of the Architect.”

Hythlodaeus chuckled, “She’s Elidibus’s daughter. She did her father proud but Hades and I have both known her since she was a smol and she’s got the same tells as the Emissary.”

The artist made a sympathetic noise, “Poor thing was probably mortified when Emet-Selch came down from on high to rescue her.”

“You have no idea.”

~*~*~*~*~

Bragi smiled as he watched his daughter putter around the kitchen of their apartment preparing dinner. He set his convocation mask down and lowered the white hood of his robes. “Hades mentioned that you’re doing well at the Architect’s Bureau.”

“I’d be doing better if he didn’t breathe down my neck.” Ananke groused.

Bargi chuckled and stepped over to wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her into a side hug. “It’s not too late to back out of concept design and sign up with the Akademia’s music department for fall semester.”

Ananke gently elbowed him in the ribs gently. “You just want to vicariously relive your glory days as a concert pianist. Besides, I can do both.”

“Just don’t overload yourself. The first year at the Akadaemia is designed to be brutal” He kissed the top of her head and then stepped back when she started to dish dinner onto plates for them. He took his plate from her and they moved to the dining room. “So how are things going?”

“Stars and Stones, Uncle Hades is so EMBARRASSING!” Ananke dropped her face into her hands. She glanced up when her father started chuckling. “It’s not funny Dad.”

“I assure you that it is.”

“At least Uncle Daeus can be professional,” the girl grumbled to her plate.

Bragi stifled his chuckles, he very much doubted that it was actually that bad. “There is a reason he was offered Emet-Selch’s seat first.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes and Bragi worked on putting concerns of the convocation aside for now. He’d promised his wife before she died, promised himself, when he was home he’d be home with their child, not half absent on convocation business. Still, whispers of what was happening beyond the sea pulled at the back of his thoughts.

“I was relieved when he swept in like that,” Ananke said quietly. “I wasn’t sure what else I could say to that man.”

“Shupakor and the Bureau of the Architect have a long-standing… relationship” Bragi said carefully.

“That’s a very Elidibus way of saying that.” The young woman narrowed her eyes at him.

He shrugged. “Evidently having to deal with Shupakor is something of a right of passage. Hades and his predecessor have both had to rescue their staff from him every time he comes to Bureau.”

“Oh,” Ananke said her posture relaxing a bit. “If he’s such a problem why hasn’t he been censored yet?”

“He never quite crosses the line, although knowing Hades he may just do it. Even if it puts him at odds with Lahabrea and Nabriales,” Bragi reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Which will make Convocation meetings entertaining for quite a while. All three of them hold grudges.”

Ananke wrinkled her nose. “I hope I never get offered a Convocation seat. primary school has less drama.”

Bragi swallowed hard and coughed as laughter took him by surprise.

~**~**~**~**~**~

Lilith stood and glared at the thing that had appeared in the city’s largest park overnight. She’s been back in the city for all of three hours before getting dragged from her bed and the warm hollow between her two lovers by a call about a thing that had appeared. Next to her Hades needlessly adjusted his mask as he glared at the thing as well.

Behind them, Hythlodaeus and Lilith’s second Alcibiades gave each other resigned looks. Someone was going to get it in the neck for this. The two convocation members consulted together in low tones and the few citizens that were up in this predawn gray gave the group a wide berth. There was going to be a new piece of public art in this location but Hythlodaeus knew well that the concept had not yet been released by Emet-Selch for discussion amongst the convocation.

“Who are they going to string up for this?” Alcibiades’s smooth baritone would have netted him an invitation to “dinner” if Hythlodaeus had been a single man.

“Shupakor.” Hythlodaeus sighed as he watched his two lovers. Alcibiades cursed under his breath. For reasons neither of them could fathom both Lahabrea and Nabriales favored the arrogant artist. “Precisely.”

“Fuck.”

“Unfortunately I am the faithful type.”

Alcibiades drew in a long breath and released it slowly. “Why are you like this?”

“My friend, you really have no idea how little sanity there is to be found in the Architect’s Bureau.”

~**~**~**~**~**~

“The Concept had not been approved yet!”

“How long has it been sitting on your desk Emet-Selch?!”

“That is irrelevant Nabriales! IT. WAS. NOT. APPROVED.”

Ananke sat outside of the Convocation’s chamber and fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve. She held the stack of meticulously documented incidents where Shupakor had tried to circumvent the Bureau’s policies. She frowned finding a tear in the hem of her sleeve, she must have caught it on a drawer when she had been digging the files out of the vault. A moment of thought and a spark of aether fixed it. She glanced at the closed doors and shook her head. So many of her friends were in awe of the Convocation, she’d given up trying to convince them there wasn’t really anything awe inspiring about fourteen grown adults who mostly just yelled at each other.

“It’s a giant fire hazard Lahabrea that’s why it hasn’t been approved!”

“Then why wasn’t the artist consulted sooner?”

“Why did the artist think it was appropriate to bypass Emet-Selch?”

Ananke glanced up a second before Hythlodaeus came around the corner. He smiled amiably and took a seat next to her. “They’re still at it?”

The young woman nodded, “It’s mostly Lahabrea, Emet-Selch, Nabriales, and Preasul. I think I heard Mitron once.”

“This could have been avoided is all that I’m trying to say!”

“Do you think your father will add his thoughts?” Hytholdaeus took the stack of documents from her and started rearranging them.

“Maybe if you did your job instead of sleeping at your desk-”

“Not unless it looks like someone is going to start throwing aether around.” Ananke leaned over to see how the Chief was organizing the files.

“It is hardly my fault that you can’t manage your time Igeyorhm!”

Hythlodaeus glanced at the doors. “How long do you think we’ll have to wait?”

There was a loud crack as if something heavy had been slammed against the surface. Anake grimaced, “That is probably Lahabrea trying to use the Rules of Order as a trump card.”

“You have GOT to be joking!”

“Lilith if you and Hades cannot be bothered to remember the rules of this Convocation-”

The pair in the hall went silent. That was a rather large faux pas on the part of the Speaker.

“That will be quite enough. I would suggest we recess for lunch and come back with cooler heads.”

Ananke sighed in relief. She still wasn’t sure how her father managed to make his voice carry like that without shouting. She was almost positive he used aether to do it, but she’d never been able to replicate it. Hythlodaeus squeezed her shoulder and smiled. “Well, at least the boss makes sure we eat well when he drags us up here.”

Ananke gave a startled laugh which turned into hiccups when she tried to strangle it as the Convocation of Fourteen filed out in various flavors of upset. She could feel her father’s arched eyebrow behind his mask when he stepped out. Elidibus glanced over his shoulder to look back at where Emet-Selch was blocking Praesul’s path as they hissed whispers at each other. He shook his head and motioned for his daughter to join him. “Hythlodaeus would you please let Emet-Selch know that I will return his intern when he can think clearly.”

Hythlodaeus nodded sagely, “So we’ll see her when she is voted in to take his place.”

Ananke made a strangled sound of embarrassment that earned her an amused smile from Halmarut as he walked by. Elidibus gently took his daughter’s arm and wondered, not for the first time, if encouraging her to work at the Bureau of the Architect for the summer before entering the Akademia had been a wise idea.

[dandymeowth]

On the outskirts of the city, power lines sag and buzz, overloaded with electrons as the demand for air conditioning soars and the entire grid is pushed to the limit. In an Arizona heat wave, electricity is not a convenience, it is a tool for survival.

As the mercury rises, people die. The homeless cook to death on hot sidewalks. Older folks, their bodies unable to cope with the metabolic stress of extreme heat, suffer heart attacks and strokes. Hikers collapse from dehydration. As the climate warms, heat waves are growing longer, hotter, and more frequent. Since the 1960s, the average number of annual heat waves in 50 major American cities has tripled. They are also becoming more deadly. Last year, there were 181 heat-related deaths in Arizona’s Maricopa County, nearly three times the number from four years earlier. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, between 2004 and 2017, about a quarter of all weather-related deaths were caused by excessive heat, far more than other natural disasters such as hurricanes and tornadoes.

...........

“What will the Hurricane Katrina of extreme heat look like?” he wonders aloud as we sit in a cafe near the ASU campus. Katrina, which hit New Orleans in 2005, resulting in nearly 2,000 deaths and more than $100 billion in economic damage, demonstrated just how unprepared a city can be for extreme climate events.

“Hurricane Katrina caused a cascading failure of urban infrastructure in New Orleans that no one really predicted,” Chester explains. “Levees broke. People were stranded. Rescue operations failed. Extreme heat could lead to a similar cascading failure in Phoenix, exposing vulnerabilities and weaknesses in the region’s infrastructure that are difficult to foresee.”

In Chester’s view, a Phoenix heat catastrophe begins with a blackout.

..........

When the city goes dark, the order and convenience of modern life begin to fray. Without air conditioning, temperatures in homes and office buildings soar. (Ironically, new, energy-efficient buildings are tightly sealed, making them dangerous heat traps.) Traffic signals go out. Highways gridlock with people fleeing the city. Without power, gas pumps don’t work, leaving vehicles stranded with empty tanks. Water pipes crack from the heat, and water pumps fail, leaving people scrounging for fresh water. Hospitals overflow with people suffering from heat exhaustion and heatstroke. If there are wildfires, the air will become hazy and difficult to breathe. If a blackout during extreme heat continues for long, rioting, looting, and arson could begin.

And people will start dying. How many? “Katrina-like numbers,” Chester predicts. Which is to say, thousands. Chester describes all this coolly, as if a Phoenix heat apocalypse is a matter of fact, not hypothesis.

“How likely is this to happen?” I ask.

“It’s more a question of when,” Chester says, “not if.”

Extreme heat is the most direct, tangible, and deadly consequence of our hellbent consumption of fossil fuels. Rising carbon-dioxide levels in the atmosphere trap heat, which is fundamentally changing our climate system. “Think of the Earth’s temperature as a bell curve,” says Penn State climate scientist Michael Mann. “Climate change is shifting the bell curve toward the hotter end of the temperature scale, making extreme-heat events more likely.” As the temperature rises, ice sheets are melting, seas are rising, hurricanes are getting more intense, rainfall patterns are changing (witness the recent flooding in the Midwest). Drought and flooding inflict tremendous economic damage and create political chaos, but extreme heat is much more likely to kill you directly. The World Health Organization predicts heat stress linked to the climate crisis will cause 38,000 extra deaths a year worldwide between 2030 and 2050. A recent study published in Nature Climate Change found that by 2100, if emissions continue to grow, 74 percent of the world’s population will be exposed to heat waves hot enough to kill. “The more warming you have, the more heat waves you have,” says Michael Wehner, a scientist at Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory. “The more heat waves you have, the more people die. It’s a pretty simple equation.”

.........

Extreme heat is already transforming our world in subtle and not-so-subtle ways. Disney executives recently voiced concern that rising temperatures will significantly reduce the number of visits to their parks. In Germany, officials were forced to put a speed limit on the autobahn because of fears the road would buckle from heat. The U.S. military has already incurred as much as $1 billion in costs during the past decade — from lost work, retraining, and medical care — due to the health impacts of heat. The warming of the planet “will affect the Department of Defense’s ability to defend the nation and poses immediate risks to U.S. national security,” a recent DOD report said. Forests and soils are drying out, contributing to explosive and unprecedented wildfires. Habitation zones for plants and animals are changing, forcing them to adapt to a warmer world or die. A U.N. report found that 1 million species are at risk of extinction in the coming decades. Another study by researchers at MIT suggests that rising temperatures and humidity may make much of South Asia, including parts of India and Pakistan, too hot for human existence by the end of the century. As scientist Peter Gleick, co-founder of the Pacific Institute in California, told me, “There is a shocking, unreported, fundamental change coming to the habitability of many parts of the planet, including the USA.”

.................

But the greatest risk to human health may be in areas that are already hot, where temperature increases will strain habitability. In the U.S., the fastest-warming cities are in the Southwest. Las Vegas, El Paso, Tucson, and Phoenix have warmed the most, each by at least 4.3°F since 1970. Globally, many of the hottest cities are in India. In May, a deadly heat wave sent temperatures above 120°F in the north. The desert city of Churu recorded a high of 123°F, nearly breaking India’s record of 123.8°F, set in 2016. There were warnings not to go outside after 11 a.m. Authorities poured water on roads to keep them from melting. A 33-year-old man was reportedly beaten to death in a fight over water. The preliminary death toll in India for this summer’s heat wave is already more than 200, and that number is likely to grow.

How hot will it get? That depends largely on how far and how fast carbon-dioxide levels rise, which depends on how much fossil fuel the world continues to burn. The Paris Climate Agreement (which President Trump pulled the U.S. out of) aims to limit the warming to 3.6°F (2°C). Given the current trajectory of carbon pollution, hitting that target is all but impossible. Unless nations of the world take dramatic action soon, we are headed for a warming of at least 5.4°F (3°C) by the end of the century, making the Earth roughly as warm as it was 3 million years ago during the Pliocene era, long before Homo sapiens came along. “Human beings have literally never lived on a planet as hot as it is today,” says Wehner. A 5.4°F-warmer world would be radically different from the one we know now, with cities swamped by rising seas and epic droughts turning rainforests into deserts. The increased heat alone would kill significant numbers of people. A recent report from the University of Bristol estimated that with 5.4°F of warming, about 5,800 people could die each year in New York due to the heat, 2,500 could die in Los Angeles, and 2,300 in Miami. “The relationship between heat and mortality is clear,” Eunice Lo, a climate scientist at the University of Bristol and the lead author of the report, tells me. “The warmer the world becomes, the more people die.”

...........

The psychological impacts of extreme heat are obvious to anyone who’s ever felt cranky on a hot day. But the impacts go beyond crankiness. When temperatures rise, suicide rates can go up at a pace similar to the impact of economic recessions. Some aspects of higher cognition are impaired. School test scores decline, with one study showing decreases across five measures of cognitive function, including reaction times and working memory.

The link between heat and violence is particularly intriguing. “There is growing evidence of a psychological mechanism that is impacted by heat, although we can’t yet say exactly what that is,” says Solomon Hsiang, a professor of public policy at Berkeley. Some scientists speculate that higher temperatures impact neurotransmitters in the brain, resulting in lower levels of serotonin, which has been shown to lead to aggressive behavior. So rising heat may literally alter the chemistry in our brains. One study showed that police officers were more likely to fire on intruders during training exercises when it was hot. Andrew Shaver, a professor of political science at the University of California, Merced, analyzed data about conflicts in Afghanistan and Iraq and found that attacks by insurgents involving RPGs and assault rifles increased with higher temperatures, while planned attacks did not. “During conflicts, higher temperatures seem to provoke more impulsive aggression,” Shaver says. One speculative paper projects that by 2099, due to rising heat, the U.S. could see an additional 22,000 murders, 180,000 rapes, 3.5 million assaults, and 3.76 million robberies, burglaries, and acts of larceny.

...............

A recent poll found that two-thirds of Arizonans accept that climate change is happening, but most elected officials in the state, including Republican Gov. Doug Ducey, are hardly climate activists. Arizona is one of the sunniest states in the nation, and yet only 6.5 percent of the state’s electricity comes from solar power. A statewide ballot initiative in 2018 to require 50 percent renewable power by 2030 was soundly defeated, in part because the parent company of Arizona Public Service, the big public utility in the state, spent more than $37 million on false and misleading arguments about how transitioning to renewable power would raise power bills and destroy the Arizona economy.

“We have a large number of elected officials who don’t believe in climate change, period,” says Stacey Champion, a longtime Phoenix energy and climate activist. “How do you get effective, data-driven policy if you have people pushing hard against it because they are batshit crazy, or they are afraid it will spook companies like Nike who want to come here?”

....................

Air conditioning is one of those paradoxical modern technologies that creates just as many problems as it solves. For one thing, it requires a lot of energy, most of which comes from fossil fuels. AC and fans already account for 10 percent of the world’s energy consumption. Globally, the number of air-conditioning units is expected to quadruple by 2050. Even accounting for modest growth in renewable power, the carbon emissions from all this new AC would result in a more than 0.9°F increase in global temperature by the year 2100.

Cheap air conditioning is like crack cocaine for modern civilization, keeping us addicted and putting off serious thinking about more creative (and less fossil-fuel-intensive) solutions. Air conditioning also creates a kind of extreme heat apartheid. If you’re rich, you have a big house with enough air conditioning to chill a martini. And if you are poor, like Leonor Juarez, a 46-year-old single mother whom I met on a recent July afternoon when the temperature was hovering around 115°F, you live in South Phoenix, where sidewalks are dirt and trees are few, and you hope you can squeeze enough money out of your paycheck to run the AC for a few hours on hot summer nights.

On hot days, Juarez’s small apartment feels like a cave. She has heavy purple curtains on the windows to block the sun. “I could not live here without air conditioning,” she tells me. Because she has poor credit, she doesn’t qualify for the usual monthly billing from Salt River Project, her utility. Instead, to pay for electricity and keep her AC running, SRP has given her a card reader that plugs into an outlet that she has to feed like a jukebox to keep the power on. Juarez turns on her AC only a few hours a day — still, her electric bill can run $500 a month during the summer, which is more than she pays for rent. To Juarez, who takes a bus five miles to a laundromat in the middle of the night because washing machines are discounted to 50 cents a load after 1 a.m., $500 is a tremendous amount of money.

She shows me the meter on the card reader: She has $49 worth of credit on it, enough for a few more days of power. And when that runs out? “I am in trouble,” she says bluntly. Juarez, who works as an in-home caretaker for the elderly, says she knows of several people who lived alone and died when they failed to pay their electric bills and tried to live without AC.

[sephspark]

The Untamed Characters as People In My Library

I work in a public library (extremely rural, extremely American) and was possessed by the idea of “children’s entertainer Wei Wuxian” and this spiraled from there. I’m a children’s librarian so my bias is Obvious.

Wei Wuxian: children’s musician/performer. Does dance/music programs, encouraging the kids to get up and move while he plays. Creates absolute chaos because 3 year olds are not coordinated, but no one cries. The kids’ favorite, even if he’s on thin ice with the rest of the staff. Technically, he’s not even staff, but his sister is the children’s librarian and he’s in so often he might as well be. Does most of his programs for free because “Musical Literacy Is Important, Wen Qing, I’m Not Going to Tell”. Writes his own programs to avoid paying royalties.

Lan Wangji: traditional children’s musician. Comes in once or twice during the summer to do cultural programs about Gusu music. Extremely popular, libraries fight over getting him in. Very reserved, quiet, not all that good with the kids but they love him anyway. Does a great job drumming up business for the local music teachers. You’d think he’d be expensive, but he lets the libraries name their price, and even then he usually negotiates down.

They’re usually scheduled to do programs on the same day or at least the same week, given the similar content. Get into fights frequently in the break room over pedagogical differences. Everyone keeps begging Jiang Yanli to schedule them further apart. She just smiles.

(Everyone except for Jiang Yanli is surprised when they go into business together. There’s a betting pool on the break room fridge for how long before one of them kills the other, and who’s going to snap first. MianMian wins with a write-in answer of “neither, they’re going to get married”.)

Jiang Yanli: youth services librarian. Everyone loves her. Knows all of the children by name, keeps in touch with their parents. The kids all call her shijie or jie-jie, even when they’re teenagers. A master at sliding informational cards into the hands of little queer kids without their parents seeing. Had two weddings: the actual ceremony, and then a second ceremony the next day where she wore her wedding robes to the library so “her” kids could see. She only meant to drop by for a few hours, but ended up staying and working the whole day, because Wen Yuan wouldn’t let go of her leg. She did delay her honeymoon by a day for that. Currently taking a year off to care for her newborn son.

Nie Huaisang: youth services librarian. Did Not Expect to be put in charge when Jiang Yanli left for a year. Better at it than you’d think; he’s been helping her run things behind the scenes for a while now (they have weekly “department meetings” where they lock themselves in the office and either scheme over the budget or complain about rude patrons). Kids like him because he’s “silly”. Definitely plays up being clumsier than he is, pretends he doesn’t know really simple information (kids are convinced he doesn’t know math), gets REALLY into it during story time. He’ll be happy to go back to being an assistant when A-Li gets back, but he’s still enjoying himself.

Mo XuanYu: youth services specialist. Fifteen minutes late to work with Starbucks everyday, but by god, they’re so short staffed they can’t afford to fire him. Also, he goes on coffee runs for the whole building. Also also, he’s got access to that Jin Clan money, in that Jin Guangshan paid him off to stay quiet about being a bastard until JGS croaked of a heart attack (no one cried). Hates kids. Why is he in the children’s department? It was better than packing boxes. GREAT with social media, a one-man marketing department. Reluctantly very good at puppet shows and is bullied into doing them weekly by Jiang Yanli. 

MianMian: circulation manager. Helps out in youth services when Nie Huaisang really needs it. In charge of the money. Looks sweet, great with families. Has a strict “do no harm but take no shit” policy. Has connections to all the shelters so she can send people somewhere they can get support instead of just throwing them out for trying to sleep in the alley or bathing in the bathroom. Never seen without a cup of coffee (once a month she’ll shove $100 into the hands of an intern and send them to the shop up the street to get coffee for the whole library). Has your back with combative patrons. Can, will, and has banned people from the building for being rude.

Wen Ning: shelver. Doesn’t talk a lot but takes great joy in making sure that the library is in perfect order. Knows where everything is. Probably knows every book in the library, but he’d never admit to it. Hears SO MUCH gossip. Will leave a book on someone’s table if they’re struggling that’s relevant to whatever they’re going through. Anonymously runs the online Readers’ Advisory blog column. Will push the kids around on the shelving cart if they ask (frequently gets in trouble for this). Has broken a cart pushing Wei Wuxian around (did not get in trouble for this because Wen Qing was too busy dragging Wei Wuxian to an inch of his life for being a bad influence).

Wen Qing: county librarian. Has this shit on lock. Takes no nonsense from the local government; she’s not here to flirt her way through budget meetings or sacrifice her intelligence so that the men in charge will give her funding. She’s run this library on a shoestring budget in the past and she’ll do it again before she plays the fool. Occasionally brings her nephew, Wen Yuan, to work with her for the day when his grandmother can’t care for him. Everyone respects her but they’re also a little terrified of her. She likes it that way.

Lan Xichen: adult services manager. Works very closely with the geneaology department. Like, VERY closely. Has seen everything you could possibly imagine. No longer reacts when patrons are watching porn, just remotely shuts their computer down from his desk. Great with old women. Occasionally ventures down to circulation to defuse the situations where MianMian can’t afford to kill someone/ban them from the building. Knows what you’re looking for before you even open your mouth. Knows exactly which “book with a red cover” you’re looking for. It’s a little freaky. Runs a weekly meeting to help college kids with their research projects (finding materials and proofreading), a meeting to help people with job applications, and a creative writing club. Desk is covered in thoeretical treatises and bodice-ripper romances.

Meng Yao: acquisitions and geneaology manager. You don’t ask how he gets those rare books, you just catalogue them. Made geneaology its own department, separate from adult services, even though he’s usually at Lan Xichen’s desk chatting and drinking tea. Definitely a geneaologist out of Spite but he’s good at cataloguing that kind of information in his brain, remembering who’s in what family and whose family had historical beef with who, who fought in what war...basically an encyclopedia. Runs a blog of the historical scandals he discovers through his patrons’ research, with names changed for privacy. There’s some REAL wild shit in there if you know where to look (he does). Does not speak much to Mo XuanYu, but they do trade the Look of two men who do not miss their deadbeat (dead) father. He’s the one who put up the betting pool on whether or not WWX and LWJ would kill each other. Still owes MianMian his part of the pool.

A-Qing (Xiao Qing): intern. Works in whatever department needs her the most that day. Always coming up with ways to make the library more accessible, even if she has to jury rig something herself. Takes coffee breaks with Mo XuanYu. Frequently overrides the time limit on the public computers for kids who are just trying to do their homework; an hour isn’t a lot of time to do a week’s worth of schoolwork, and most of them don’t have internet at home (or a stable home). She’s been there. Not allowed to work the circulation desk because she Will fight patrons if they try to get an attitude with her, and she’s not a manager, so she doesn’t have the power to fight them like MianMian does. 

HONORABLE MENTION:

Jin Zixuan: the library’s sugar daddy. Head of the Friends of the Library (aka the totally legal money laundering operation). Makes so many anonymous charitable donations whenever his wife mentions the library needs funds for something. Makes plenty of non-anonymous ones, too, but those are for the Big Things that are expected of someone in his position. To the public, the library is simply his passion project, his charity work. Everyone who knows him knows that he is 100% whipped for Jiang Yanli and would probably sign his soul over to the library if needed to keep the place afloat. Wen Qing KNOWS it’s him, but she can’t do anything about it, so they trade passive aggressive barbs at fundraising dinners and book sales. Has had at least one breakdown in front of MianMian where he asked her to get parenting books out of the children’s room for him because he couldn’t let A-LI KNOW that he’s WORRIED about having a CHILD! What if he turns out like his own father?! He doesn’t know how anything about raising children!!!

Song Lan: no one really knows what his job is, but it has something to do with private security and he’s not a cop because his daughter has an “ACAB” sticker on her water bottle. Definitely gave his cell number to everyone and told them to call him Just In Case a patron turns violent or there’s something happening in the parking lot (Nie Huaisang called him once when some frat bro was cat-calling the female staff; Wen Chao didn’t do that again). Looks like he could kill you, could actually kill you, and is a cinnamon roll. Likes to chat about philosophy with Lan Xichen. Has to have A-Qing help him use the computer every time he comes in. They’re all pretty sure he’s just playing dumb so his daughter can show off.

Xiao XingChen: an absolute goddamn delight of a patron. Comes in every two weeks and asks for some extremely obscure book you KNOW doesn’t exist in audio form (if it even exists in a form that isn’t “300 year old parchment paper”) but he always smiles and says his daughter will read it to him, they love talking about philosophy together, and you also KNOW A-Qing does because she’s co-opted the youth services supply closet as a recording booth. Always wants to listen when you’re stressed out and having a hard day. Probably a therapist? You don’t know what he does for a living, either, but you’re less afraid to ask him than you are his husband. Honestly it just seems rude that you don’t know at this point so you’re not going to admit ignorance! Don’t ask! Runs a community program helping teens get ready for college and apply for scholarships, in collaboration with Lan Xichen’s programs. Is he a school counselor? You’re still not going to ask.

Jiang Cheng: also part of The Friends of the Library with Jin Zixuan. They’ve got a begrudging partnership which is “we’re both whipped for the women in charge of this library and we’re going to give them Everything They Want”. Would be dating Wen Qing if it wasn’t a terrible breach of ethics. Makes love-sick puppy eyes at her during the monthly meetings. Comes in with the local animal shelter every Wednesday evening to promote the spay/neuter program and give coupons for it. He can’t have dogs because his brother is deathly allergic, but he can pet all the Good Boys and Girls at the shelter that he wants. He is a little tired of the “Cheng-spotting” Facebook group that Wei Wuxian started, where everyone posts candids of him walking various shelter dogs around town. (Actually he thinks it’s fun, but he’s never going to admit that.)

DISHONORABLE MENTION:

Xue Yang: has had his library card revoked. Does not wear headphones to listen to screamo music about dismemberment on the public computers. God, you hope he’s an anatomy student, you’re really tired of his search history. He says it’s “research” and then refuses to elaborate. For a paper? For a book?? For MURDER?! You don’t know! You don’t think you want to know! The reason Lan Xichen has a “kill switch” for the public computers. Banned from the premises but he keeps getting back in somehow.

[uk-news-talking-politics]

Everything but Brexit: What Johnson's Cabinet means for the country

By Chaminda Jayanetti

Boris Johnson's new Cabinet has been analysed almost entirely through the prism of Brexit. Given the political context and the identity of his new ministers, this is hardly surprising.

Nevertheless, Johnson is clear he wants to put a broader agenda to the public. Even amid the chaos of Brexit, ministers can pursue policy shifts. But that said, whereas David Cameron's first Cabinet included ministers with long-planned reform agendas - Michael Gove's free schools, Andrew Lansley's NHS Bill, Iain Duncan Smith's Universal Credit - Johnson's appointments smack more of loyalty, patronage and Brexit strategising than anything else.

But with deficit reduction apparently now on hold, ministers are likely to have more room to manoeuvre than their predecessors. These are now the most powerful people in the country. What will they do with it?

Tax and spend

Johnson's choice of chancellor could prove to be one of the most meaningful in memory. While both Sajid Javid and Liz Truss rose through the ranks as small state ideologues, at this point in their careers Javid is by far the more willing to spend money. Had Truss been appointed chancellor, the likelihood of significant infrastructure spending would have receded fast. Johnson gave the job to Javid for a reason.

Which Saj is the real one? The Ayn Rand small-state diehard, or the man who, as Stephen Crabb's anointed chancellor in his 2016 leadership bid, pledged £100bn of debt-funded public spending on infrastructure?

Johnson clearly wants to spend money on infrastructure. But day-to-day spending is different - Philip Hammond hamstrung Theresa May's 'burning injustices' agenda by fixating on austerity.

Johnson is now pledging to halt deficit reduction and spend on schools, police and the NHS, whilst also pledging big tax cuts. Supposedly this will be funded by the money saved on EU contributions - but that's just fantasy. Will Javid toss Tory deficit targets out of the window? Will he accept the tax giveaways to high-earners Johnson is promising? Or will he turn out to be another Treasury deficit hawk?

Significantly, Matthew Elliott has been brought in as Javid's adviser. Elliot co-founded the Taxpayers Alliance, the fanatically ideological, covertly funded think tank that built much of the media hysteria against public spending a decade ago.

Public infrastructure is set for an overhaul - that much is certain. But what Javid does on tax and public service spending will decide his relationship with his boss, his party's survival, and the country's future. The early signs are that the taps will bring forth a trickle, not a stream.

Health and care

Matt Hancock sold his soul to save his job. While he's obsessed with elevator pitches for gimmicky health apps, the NHS urgently needs more money.

The government is already committed to increasing NHS spending over the coming years - but this is predicated on a reform agenda centred on controversial 'Sustainability and Transformation Plans' that often include hugely unpopular hospital cuts and closures.

Johnson, forever marked by the infamous £350m Leave campaign pledge, will back extra NHS spending - though its adequacy to meet current and future needs is doubtful. In his first speech as prime minister he pledged 20 new hospital upgrade. That suggests that investment in the health service's crumbling real estate is coming - particularly in Leave-voting target seats.

The new prime minister has also backed social care reform, based on building a cross-party consensus behind a market social insurance system to fund care long term, plus a promise that people will no longer need to sell their homes to fund their care.

This is far too big to pull off until Brexit is fully resolved. If it happens at all, it won't be until long, long after October 31st. Social insurance also won't address needs for the next ten years, and the existing system needs new money fast.

And anyway, the chances of cross-party consensus on care reform are minimal - political attacks sank care reform plans in 2009 and 2017, and with Jeremy Corbyn's Labour party seeking to bring care closer to the tax-funded NHS rather than resorting to marketised insurance models, they will likely do so again.

Education

While the schools sector scratches its head over what Gavin Williamson is doing at the Department for Education, the big questions will be for No.10 and the Treasury. We know that higher spending on schools is coming, but how much and in what form?

His first pledge was a paltry 0.1% increase in spending that would have solved very little. After that was ridiculed for its inadequacy - and in a sign of making policy on the hoof - he then upgraded it to a pledge to reverse all cuts to school funding since 2015 by the year 2022. That much meatier promise will cost nearly £5bn a year - but halting deficit reduction gives him the room to pull it off.

What he hasn't addressed is the crisis in special needs education, which is sinking council finances and cutting children adrift. Williamson is not top of the list of people you'd choose to deal with it.

Welfare

Another soul-seller. The fact Amber Rudd kept not just her Cabinet rank but also her department in Johnson's brutal reshuffle suggests he has no particular agenda of his own here. Rudd has focused on tweaking the Tories' catastrophically broken benefit system, amending Universal Credit and policies such as the two-child limit to avoid some of the worst headlines without actually changing direction.

What the welfare state really needs is almost wholesale reversal of the last ten years - but that's not happening. At best, Javid might allow Rudd the money to scrap the damaging five-week wait for Universal Credit that drives so many claimants to destitution. Or he might not. Watch out also for Rudd's plan to merge the assessment process for the two main disability benefits - another shambles waiting to happen.

Transport

We know public transport investment is on its way. The big questions are what projects and where. Doubts permeate the future of HS2, especially with a small Commons majority and restive rural backbenchers along the planned route. Meanwhile, northern cities are likely to receive a hefty share of new spending, given the post-Brexit politics of transport spending - and the location of Tory target seats. However, lofty pledges and future plans may mean nothing unless new transport secretary Grant Shapps can get to grips with Britain's rail network, whose fragmentation has caused so much misery for commuters in recent years.

Housing

Esther McVey is an appalling choice as housing minister - a small-minded benefits-basher with a record of incompetence and ignorance, who owes her job to being fanatically pro-Brexit. Reversing housing benefit cuts is key to solving the housing crisis, but don't expect McVey to notice.

England essentially has two housing crises - middle class millennials can't afford to buy a house, especially in the south east, while housing benefit cuts and minimal social housebuilding has fuelled a homelessness crisis. The latter is more urgent, but the former is more critical to the Tories' election prospects.

Criminal justice

David Gauke's plan to scrap short prison sentences meant he was one of the few members of May's Cabinet with a progressive policy agenda. His replacement at the Ministry of Justice with centrist prisons minister Robert Buckland gives reason to believe this will continue, provided hardline home secretary Priti Patel doesn't try and intervene.

It seems a lifetime ago that the Tory leadership contest found itself swamped with the most cringing drugs 'scandal' in history. But for all the evident hypocrisy of Britain's drugs laws, it would be a surprise for any government with Patel at the Home Office to significantly relax prohibition.

As for Patel's previous support for the death penalty - there's no bringing that back without leaving the European Convention on Human Rights.

Workers' rights

Arch neoliberals such as Liz Truss and Priti Patel are not occupying roles that give them the opportunity to slash workers' rights. That said, Theresa May's hopelessly unfulfilled agenda of protecting gig economy workers and putting workers' representatives on company boards is likely to die a swift and quiet death.

Climate change

On what may be the hottest day in Britain's recorded history, cool yourself down with the knowledge that there is no sign either Johnson or his pro-fracking new environment secretary Theresa Villiers give a rat's backside about climate change.

[darkouter]

barty at the ministry + magic item headcanon post

interning / sabotage

during barty’s brief stint working at the ministry (paid internship, officially being hired later for other office work while he got necessary qualifications) from 1980 - ‘82, he worked within his father’s department:  the department of magical law enforcement.  he helped aurors mostly, primarily doing paperwork and very basic research for them.  this was perfect for riddle to use him because barty had free access to information regarding the hunting of death eaters, who was being investigated, how close aurors were getting to them, and their sources.  he could also sabotage some of their information or generally cause office work chaos because documents were in and out of his hands so often, and he could change details or lose pages strategically.

absolutely no one would ever think to question him because he has interned at the ministry for years, working during the summers (because you can bet your ass crouch sr. wasn’t going to just let him SLACK OFF or be a normal teen).  everyone is familiar with him, knows his work ethic, and they trust him.  it’s also why, even earlier on as an intern, he had far more trust and responsibility than anyone else who would fill that role.  it’s really just formality for him to be an intern before being hired, policy-related, and generally he would move up the ladder more quickly if not for needing licenses/qualifications.  but this is the real world, and a lot of people didn’t really give a shit that he didn’t have them yet because they knew he was capable, so a lot of the time he had more responsibility than he was necessarily supposed to have.  as long as the sticklers for rules like sr. weren’t nosing around, he could basically do whatever.

this is why vold.emort really wanted him around.  he’s valuable.

this all occurs during his wild streak, of course.  and he often stays to work long nights because crouch sr. works long nights, so barty should be at the office as long as him, even if his work is already done!  a boy gets bored.  he starts to wander around.  his interest ends up focusing on the department of mysteries because who the fuck doesn’t want to skitter around in that place?  barty’s a curious guy.  there’s a lot to look at.  he’s alone in the middle of the night, and everyone’s gone.  maybe he pokes at some things he shouldn’t.

magical item:  the spirit communication compact

it’s in the section of the department that focuses on death.  for the longest time, he tried to avoid interacting too much with items in there.  the veil?  he got close to it once and freaked out when it started whispering to him.  no thanks, Death!  he didn’t avoid dying in the river, so don’t come for him!  eventually, however, his intrigue overpowers his tentative tendencies within that place.  

impulsively, he grabs a small item clasped shut, and struggles for the longest time to open it.  it’s perfectly smooth, circular, and gold — it reminds him of his golden pocket-watch that matches his father’s.  it really looks like it’s meant to be opened, with a visible and clean slice through it.  when he attempts to open it, a light emits from that crack.  it doesn’t budge.  there is one detail on it, and it’s a conical hole drilled into the side.  he assumes it’s for a key.

after several nights have passed with him fiddling with it, he still doesn’t figure out how to open it.  but it bothers him and he is invested in it so badly that he finally just pockets the damn thing, now having something to really ruminate on in his free time.  he searches for a key.  tries to find mention of it in books.  attempts putting things into the hole.  tries to use force.  alohomora.  nothing works.  sometimes when he’s fighting with it, he can hear muffled noises coming from it, but he doesn’t even vaguely understand what it is beyond a sort of humming.

he doesn’t really tell anyone about it.  it’s kind of something he just…  feels is his, and he likes to keep it that way.  he has it on him all the time.  depending on the verse, he might share knowledge of its existence with a close friend (regulus, for example), but it’s mostly for the sake of getting ideas on how to open it.

eventually, the obsession wanes as he becomes more focused on v/oldemort’s activities.  he leaves it in his room, forgotten on his desk, serving as a paperweight or table coaster.  it collects dust through his conviction, incarceration, and cursed imprisonment.  it’s only once v/oldemort frees him that he finds it again.  he brings it to hogwarts, and idly toys with it in his office when he’s alone.  it blends in well with all the random tools and items that moody has laying around.

moody, with one leg and one eye missing, serves as a hassle to turn into.  during one transformation with the polyjuice potion, he’s a bit too careless.  with bad vision and a missing leg, not having prepped moody’s false leg and magical eye, he ends up falling over.  he hits his head fairly hard on the corner of his desk, and he bleeds profusely.  blood dripping down his face, he fumbles around on his desk for a wiggenwald potion, and makes a mess of it.  the compact starts going nuts, lighting up brighter than ever before and vibrating incessantly with that humming, but louder.  he ends up turning his attention to it instead of taking care of the gash on his head like a normal person because he has never seen it react so strongly before.  what he thought was the keyhole begins to suck in air like a vacuum, and it finally occurs to him that the answer to opening it should have been obvious to him.  wiping blood from his face, he then drips blood from his fingers into the funnel.  it opens.

when the compact is open, where there would normally be a mirror is something similar to what one would see when looking into thin crystal quartz.  it’s imperfect, looking a bit foggy, and without a clean, flat face to it.  on the bottom piece is something like knobs one might see on a camera lens, or more accurately a microscope with it’s fine focus and coarse focus knobs.  it’s not until someone holds down the center knob for a few seconds that it seems to power up, and the crystal quartz becomes more like glass.  more than likely, voices will flood into it, and blurry shapes will appear on the crystal.  twisting the knobs correctly can allow someone to focus on a voice / image of someone until they are clear, as if looking through a window.  with a magnifying lens, maybe, because it’s handheld and small.  

it communicates with spirits.  not simply ghosts and poltergeists that exist on the mortal plane, but of those who have passed on.  those who do linger in between can, however, interact with it as well, should they wish to while in focus.

honestly, it’s kind of like facetiming the afterlife, but with the addition of having to tune it like a radio.

IT’S VERY HARD TO USE.  spirits that have passed, well.  have passed.  there is really no need for communication between most spirits and living people, but the spirits who do try to jump on call are usually randos trying to pass on a message of some sort.  the controls are hard, so it’s more likely that you won’t be able to find someone, especially if they’re satisfied with not making contact / moving on.  it can get annoying fairly fast if a particular spirit won’t stop trying to get your attention.

of course, during his stay at hogwarts, barty has a lot of down time that he spends alone.  it’s more in character to be a recluse, as well as just a better idea to minimize contact to reduce any chances of making a mistake with his character.  plus, if he knows he will be alone for a long time (at night), he tends to like letting the polyjuice potion wear off.  he keeps some with him at all times just in case, but sometimes a guy just wants to have his own body parts.

he only searches for two people at first:  his mother and regulus.  he’s fairly desperate in trying to find them.  the only other person he ends up trying to find is his father after killing him, though he isn’t really sure why he does that.  a part of him wants to gloat about his death, another part wants some sort of closure because killing him didn’t achieve that.

he finds regulus (proditeur, my good bitch) fairly quickly, however, as reg has been following him around in a sort of limbo state (see g’s good shit good headcanon delicious posts).  regulus tries to provide insight, and barty is ecstatic to have him back.  basically chinhands at regulus in the compact, delighted to see him, absolutely not absorbing any of the lecture because it’s inconvenient and does not fit into the reality he has concocted in his brain.

he never finds his father, thankfully.  nothing good would have come from that.  it takes a long, long time and many finger pricks for blood until he finds his mother.  this would be circa half-blood prince to deathly hal.lows.  being able to speak to her in addition to regulus has a profound effect that eventually leads to him becoming more stable emotionally, less chaotic, and generally more like who he was before volde/mort ever came into his life.  they becomes a conscience of sorts for him post-goblet, as he becomes willing to listen.

[lonestorm]

Adventures of Sindad - 5

Summary: Sinbad is lucky to be alive after his whole “Taking over the world” phase. But with the fact that he had completely fallen off the deep end, the generals decide it’s time that Sinbad is reined in from is obsession. There are, perhaps, seven people that will be up for the job. Seven tiny people.

Basically a Sinbad post-Magi redemption story of him trying to raise seven children.

Chapters: Prologue | Night 1 | Night 2 | Night 3 | Night 4 | Night 5

Also on AO3 and ff.net

Sinbad’s head was still spinning with numbers by the time he made it back to his office. He was calculating a million different possibilities of what could go wrong with the latest deals made, but each seemed manageable, and most profitable. Businessmen always did manage to prosper in chaos; as he’d spent most of his life trying to rid the world of turmoil, Sinbad wasn’t sure exactly how he felt about benefiting from it. He wouldn’t have minded if it was for the sake of protecting Sindria and his dream of peace, but now… now no one was fighting, the world was free of Solomon or David’s (or his own) control… what else was there for him to do?

The thought stopped him in his tracks, just before his door. The fear gripped him so tightly that he couldn't reach for the handle.

Anything he sacrificed had been for the destiny he saw.

And now his sight was gone.

SInbad let out a shaky exhale and ran a hand through his hair. When he’d admitted it before, he’d still found something to change, something to improve--the fabric of the world. Now there was no voice in his head, no magician, no magi to tell him what more could be done in place of his own vision.

For the first time, the rest of his life was a blank page.

For the first time, he didn’t feel…

Well, he felt silly thinking of the word “special,” but that did seem to be the closest fit.

Special. He wasn’t…

But he shook his head. No. No time to think about that now. He had kids to pick up from school in a short while.

When he entered, there was giggle and a small voice humming. Kaito and Samia were sitting on the floor with Pipirika, drawing on scrap paper with colored pens. Pipirika was laughing, complimenting Samia on her squiggly… flower, was it? And Kaito was enthusiastically coloring his picture of a ship blue while humming a quick little tune with the strokes of his hand. They instantly looked to him as the door opened, and Kaito jumped up.

The boy barreled over to him, gripped the bottom of his robes and held up his paper. “I made you a ship!”

A bit of his anxiety fell away as he took the picture. “You did this all by yourself? Wow! It’s a lovely ship, Kaito. Thank you.” He ruffled the boy’s hair, and said, “I need to finish up for about half an hour, and then we’ll head home and pick up your siblings.”

Kaito nodded as Pipirika gave a short wave and departed from the room. Samia moved wordlessly to sit by his feet and continued her drawing. Sinbad had only just rounded his desk when his phone rang.

The caller ID was labeled Rurumu Academy. He frowned, and put the phone to his ear. “President Sinbad of the Sindria Trading Company. What can I do for you?”

The voice was strained. “U-uh, S-Sir, there’s been an issue with your children today, and it’s policy to call the parent and ask them to attend a meeting as soon as possible.”

Sinbad stood up straight. “Issue? Are they okay? Which ones?”

“Um, all of them, Sir. And they’re essentially fine; I’m afraid they started a fight in the hallway.”

He gaped at the phone, and then put it back to his ear. “Wh-what? You’ve gotta be joking.”

“I-I’m afraid not, Sir. They’re in the office now, awaiting your and the other parents’ arrival for the disciplinary meeting. Will you be able to attend?”

“I, uh…” Sinbad sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Yes, I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Thank you for your time, Sir.”

“No trouble. Thank you for letting me know.” He hung up, and dropped into his seat with a groan.  So much for getting the rest of the airship forms read. First day with his new hours and he’s already leaving half an hour early.

Steeling himself, he dialed his phone and gripped his desk. Ja’far picked up right away, with a snappy, “What.”

“I have to leave early,” Sinbad said shortly, turning his chair to face the window. “The school office called me in for a meeting. The kids got in trouble.”

“Already?”

“Already. I’ll take the forms home and work on them tonight.”

“Fine.”

Sinbad hesitated. “...Yamuraiha is in town today, right?”

“Yes.”

Before he could think about it too much, Sinbad said firmly, “I’d like to have you and her over for dinner.”

Surprise was evident in Ja’far’s voice. “...oh. Why? Is there some new magic device we need to discuss?”

“No. Just… because.”

“Uh… okay. I’ll call her. What time?”

“I’ll play it safe and say seven. We’re having...something.”

A weighty pause. “...Yeah. Alright.”

“Yeah. See you. And… I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

He could almost hear Ja’far’s eyes bugging out over the phone. “Really?! I-I mean, uh, it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” sighed Sinbad, leaning far back in his chair.

Ja’far was quiet for a moment, and then replied, “No, I’m sorry. I know you’re doing your best now to fix things, and I haven’t made it any easier for you. I should have talked to you about the changes, first.”

“That’s not your job. And I know I didn’t do the same for you when I was making those… decisions.”

“I’m not helping by repeating your actions against you,” Ja’far admitted. “I guess I’m still just… pissed off.”

“I know.” Sinbad turned back around, closing his eyes. “See you later.”

Sinbad dropped his face into his hands and let out a strangled groan. How was he, the builder of the peaceful world, supposed to keep his good reputation with the headmistress of the school he founded when his own children started brawls on their first day of class?

Gathering his will, he pushed himself out of the chair and grabbed his jacket. “Samia, Kaito, we’re going to leave a bit early today, alright? I have to meet with some adults at the school to talk about your siblings today.”

The kids agreed quite readily, but Sinbad was now more concerned about how to get them out of the building unseen. He found Pipirika’s number on his phone. “Hey, I know you’re busy, but I need you to escort the children to my car. I’ll follow shortly.”

“Uh… okay, sir.”

“...I’m not in the mood for dealing with the press today.”

“Ah. Understood. But um, you didn’t drive in today, sir.”

“Oh. Right. An extra company car, then.”

“Right away, sir.”

Sinbad followed soon after his confused children; he was glad they weren’t old enough so that they wouldn’t think he was embarrassed about them. Zara, on the other hand…

He groaned, pushing to his feet. Pipirika led the kids out soon after, and he waited five minutes to walk down and get in the car in front of them. “Ready for an adventure?”

The young lady at the school’s front desk squeaked and dropped all of her papers when she saw him. “O-oh! M-Mister Sinbad! U-uh, r-right this way… I-I can watch the y-younger ones while you’re in the m-meeting. I-I have toys back here for when p-parents need to do that.”

“Thank you very much, Miss,” Sinbad told her, trying not to smirk. He was aware of the effect he had on women, but with everything going on, he hadn’t exactly gotten an ego boost from it in a while. After a day like this, he could use a little blushing and longing gazes in his direction to cheer him up.

The headmistress’ office was at the end of the reception area. Grimacing, Sinbad slowly pushed open the door. The kids looked up at him all at once, squeezed in the room on variously shaped chairs, as if they had to gather some from other places just to fit the students all in. A few other children were scattered among them, but Sinbad was focused only on the bruise forming on Seti’s eye, the cut above Zara’s brow, and the blood trickling from Leo’s knuckles.

Sinbad stormed in and knelt beside them. “Are you okay? What happened?” He brushed Zara’s hair away from the sticky blood, examined Leo’s knuckles. Checked over Rei and Kendria; they seemed unscathed. He took Seti’s chin in his hand gently and turned his face. “Who did this to you? And where is a cold pack for his face?”

“On its way,” he headmistress said shortly. She was an lady in her fifties, graying hair back in a tight bun. “If you could have a seat, Mister Sinbad, we’ll start the meeting and discuss the situation.”

With a last glance over the children and a reassuring smile in their direction, he sat and folded his hands. Three other parents were here, sternly sitting by their jittery kids or gaping at Sinbad. “Now, I was called about some kind of scuffle?”

“All of your children,” the headmistress began, “were involved in a physical fight in the atrium today.”

“He started it!” Zara seethed, pointing at a mousey-faced, brown haired boy to her right.

“Hush, Zara,” Sinbad told her in the most soothing tone he could muster for the situation. He leaned back in his seat. “We each need to wait our turn to speak.”

She gritted her teeth, and seemed to be about to retort, but Leo kicked her in the shin. Bless that kid.

The headmistress continued, “From what I’ve gathered, there was an argument that evolved into a fight. Eventually, the ben Sinbad children ganged up on these other boys-”

“There were ten of ‘em against us five!” Seti protested this time. “You only caught three of ‘em!”

“Seti.” Sinbad gestured for him to be quiet with a finger. “Wait your turn. I’m sure the headmistress will take what you say into account fairly.” He offered the lady a smile. “So what was this argument allegedly about?”

“I-It’s quite insignificant,” the headmistress said, trying and failing to keep an entirely stern demeanor. The eternal magic of a smile. “We have a zero tolerance policy on fighting.”

“Well, I’m sure the children were aware of that,” Sinbad began, folding his hands. “And they still chose to fight. Surely zero tolerance doesn't quite solve underlying problems that are the source of the rule breaking?”

The headmistress shifted and cleared her throat, flustered. “Th-that may be, but indulging childish arguments--we can hardly cater to a child’s petty issues-”

“On the contrary, headmistress,” Sinbad said, smiling more widely while his tone took a sharper edge, “I care very much about addressing the children's’ issues, and hardly find them petty.”

In his peripheral vision, he could see the kids begin to smile. But what really made his chest swell was the flicker of approval in Zara’s widened eyes.

At this point, the headmistress finally seemed to remember that Sinbad was the main funding for her school.

“O-of course, sir. Em, would one of you children raise your hand to calmly explain the argument? Each side will have the chance to speak.”

Every student’s hand shot up, except Kendria, who was anxiously kicking her feet while staring at the ground. The headmistress chose Leo to speak, probably having picked up that he was the levelheaded one of the group.

Leo spoke as calmly as she’d asked, “That boy was making fun of Kendria’s trouble with the language and hat and staff and Torran markings.” He pointed at the boy that Zara had indicated. “His friends joined in--nine of them--and he grabbed her staff away. Zara told him to give it back and leave her alone, and when he wouldn’t, Seti hit him. When they started hitting Seti, Zara and I joined in to help him and Rei was trying to get everyone to stop. Kendria got her staff back and did a spell to separate all of us. Six of his friends ran away before the teachers came. And that’s what happened.”

Sinbad’s jaw clenched; he’d told Kendria this morning that everything would be fine. The fact that this bully had made him a liar caused his hands close tightly around his armrests.

The headmistress raised her eyebrows at the accused brown-haired boy. “Is this true, Jeremiah?”

“No,” he muttered, not looking at her. “I wasn’t doin’ nothin’--these kids are all freaks and started fighting us.”

From the looks he was getting, Sinbad could tell that no one was convinced.

“Jeremiah!” the boy’s mother said harshly. “You don’t call other children names! Apologize.”

At his mother’s command, the boy murmured an apology. Sinbad turned to the headmistress. “I’m sure my children are tough enough to handle juvenile insults without devolving into violence, but I’d prefer them to have a more stress-free learning environment. And furthermore, taking the staff of a magician is rather dangerous for anyone involved; this boy is lucky it didn’t take off someone’s limb on accident.” His eyes swept over the children. “Perhaps they were concerned about that situation, wanted to get the staff back as quickly as possible, and didn’t think to get a teacher instead.”

Spreading his hands open in compromise, he said, “I understand that it’s school policy to give appropriate punishment. Might I suggest this as a first strike, and you trust me to discipline them accordingly on my own? I will ensure that they will learn proper restraint in the future. If this happens again, you have my full permission to use your own disciplinary procedures. My children have just experienced a massive change in their life in one week and have yet to understand the culture of their new environment. I’d be most appreciative of your leniency until I’ve had further chance to explain this to them.”

The headmistress seemed quite lost for words for a minute. “I… yes, the school would be open to that. Please see that your children understand how to handle these issues in the future, and next time, you will all have school-delivered consequences. The ben Sinbad children may leave, unless any parents have further objections or questions about the situation?”

The parents were quiet, until one blurted, “Chairman Sinbad has children?!”

Me too, man. Me too, he thought. Sinbad stood, gestured vaguely to the kids, and gave a helpless shrug. “Evidently. Come along, Sindria Squad.”

The kids trailed after Sinbad like a line of ducklings, Kaito and Samia catching up to their siblings eagerly. He began to lead them towards the back parking lot, walking very stiffly. Sensing the tension, the children kept quiet until they reached the car, where Sinbad helped them inside and then got into the driver’s seat. He breathed out, gripped the steering wheel.

“You know better than to get into fights,” Sinbad finally said, staring at the children in the mirror. “My children cannot be kicking around other kids at school.”

“Oh why, because we’ll ruin your image?” Zara spat, crossing her arms and flipping back her bangs. “Lighten up, old man--we didn’t even get punished.”

“The only reason you didn’t get punished is because I did some sweet talkin’ to get you out of it,” Sinbad said through gritted teeth. “It’s not about my image. It’s about responsibility. You’re underage, so I’m still responsible for you. I trusted you all to behave well. And any of you who thought fighting would fix this rather than getting a teacher or walking away from silly verbal insults has disappointed me.”

Leo and Seti looked down into their laps, but Zara barely flinched. She bit back, “Responsible for us?! You’ve only had us for a day! Why should we care if you’re disappointed? How should we know what high class expectations you have for us in your fancy rich people world? As if you’d know anything about what it’s been like for us, what it’s like to suffer and not have whatever we want whenever we want--sometimes you have to fight for that! And you-” “That’s enough,” Sinbad said quietly, but firmly. “Perhaps I don’t know much about any of you, but that comment proves that you also know nothing about me. So let’s just make it clear: I expect maturity from you, respect and civility, whether or not someone is being respectful to you. You use physical violence only when someone is being violent with you or your friends. Taking her staff didn’t count; that’s when you get a teacher. I’m disappointed that you fought-”

“You just-!”

“However, I am proud that you defended your sister,” Sinbad finished. “Kendria, good job separating them, and good job to Rei for trying to help. Leo, Seti, and Zara, I’m glad you’re okay, and I’ll get you some ice when we get home. Kaito and Samia, thank you for being so patient and good at work today. Now we’re going home, where you’ll do your homework, show me when you’ve finished, and then you may play in the main room or the backyard in view of the kitchen windows. Are we all clear?”

There were murmurs of approval all around, mixed with a few “Yes sir!’s” here and there.

The kids kept themselves occupied on the way back, talking quietly (for the most part) amongst themselves. And Sinbad… he was barely keeping his shit together, so many things on his mind that he thought it might burst.

It was less of a problem trying to keep your cool in a business situation, where his superiority was mostly unquestioned. But these kids had barely any reason to grant him see him as an authority figure. He had to gain their respect. Or maybe… just Zara’s. He could easily gain the respect of kings and queens with his power in the past (With the exception of being thrown in a chasm of snakes), but Zara wasn’t likely to give a crap about whether or not he could blow a hole in a mountain. She cared about if he was… well, he didn’t even know.

Well, at least he knew the right questions: What did they need from him and how could he give it to them?

That was a bit more like a trading company situation. He’d observed what a trading partner needed and found out how to give it to them for what he needed in return… though Sinbad supposed he couldn’t exactly expect to get anything in return from children. All the same, just being generally observant should solve his problems. He was good at figuring out what people needed.

He nodded to himself reassuringly, and focused on what he needed to do next. Paperwork. Check homework. Make sure kids don’t die. Order food. Make sure kids don’t die. Try to make sure dinner isn’t awkward. Make sure kids don’t die. Put kids to bed. Try to actually sleep. Without alcohol.

...yikes.

[12setsofchopsticks]

White Day 2019

Alrightty folks, it’s that time of the year again for my favorite holiday, WHITE DAY. Yes, again this year I have worked hard. I have spent the past several months meticulously crafting relationships, exceeding expectations, and perfecting my winged eyeliner and TODAY is the day that it all pays off. I made heart-shaped cookies for Valentine’s day again this year and coupled them with a personalized, hand-o-made-o heart-shaped cards of about the same size. As is the tradition, I will log the events of the day in real time as they happen. I am absolutely buzzing because I have high expectations and a good feeling about them.

Speaking of expectations, here is the forecast for White Day 2019:

Low chance of gifts from the English teachers as Vancouver sensei tends to forget and EPS tends to not care, BUT I WOULDN’T MIND BEING PLEASANTLY SURPRISED.

Will this be the third year in a row that I don’t receive a gift from my friend Dekashita sensei? PROBABLY.

Big hype for the third year teachers since we’re all buddies.

As a general rule, I think it is safe to expect gifts from all the teachers who have their Valentine on display.

Feeling confident that I will get gifts from a few teachers, like sumo sensei and softball sensei, since they have been consistent the past two years. Let’s see if this trend keeps up.

Shimichan is a bit of a wildcard this year, and I feel like he could go either way. What will happen? No one knows!

I was thinking to myself yesterday, “Lolen, what if your expectations are too high? What if, god forbid, you don’t receive ANY gifts?” The thought gave me a chuckle. There is no way. I am Lolen, the Beloved. I am a goddamn gaijin goddess and gifts WILL BE bestowed upon me on this day.

Wednesday, March 13th, 2019 – THE DAY BEFORE WHITE DAY

1:45 pm –I was caught off-guard while eating my lunch when a teacher has come over to give me my first white day gift! How delightful, I think, as I try to thank the teacher with a mouthful of salad. This is not my cutest moment.

Thursday, March 14th, 2019 – WHITE DAY 2019

8:25 am – I have arrived at school at precisely the time I am expected to. 

What they see: a beautiful blonde waltzing in to the teacher’s room. My hair looks good, eyeliner is looking sharp and, oh, could it be? Yes…! Her outfit even matches her nails! 

What they don’t know: ya girl stayed up too late watching Netflix the night before so she’s running off 5 hours of sleep and literally ran to catch the bus this morning. She is beauty, she is grace, she is out of breath. 

8:27 am – I reach my desk and sit down. There are four additional gifts that weren’t here before. This brings the total so far to five, before the bell has even rung! I have confidence that this will be a bountiful harvest.

8:35 am – There is a shuffle as teachers begin to get up and go to their first period homeroom class. Within the chaos, I feel a tap on my back. I turn around and, heavens to Betsy, can it be?? I can hardly believe my eyes that it is actually Dekashita sensei giving me a bag of chocolate! The two year curse has been lifted and my soul can finally be at peace.

8:45 am – Sumo sensei has just come over and dropped a literal handful of chocolate on to my desk. I will award an A for intent, but I have to give a C for execution because come on, my dude, at least put them in a lil baggy or something. Regardless, choco is choco and I will accept your offering graciously.

9:01 am – I have just received two more gifts within a few moments from each other; one from the teacher who sits behind me and the other from softball sensei. So far my predictions have been accurate…will EPS and Vancouver sensei defy my expectations and come through with gifts?? It’s the question on everyone’s mind!

9:07 am – In an interesting turn of events, one of the female P.E. teachers has just given me a gift! This sets a precedent for the women here at school, I am now expecting chocolate tokens of friendship from everyone.

9:50 am – My lovely supervisor came over to give me a little baggie of white day treats! A+ execution from an A+ supervisor, 10/10.

10:32 am – The morning is swiftly passing by. Currently, I have eleven gifts but I haven’t received any more in some time now and I am wondering if this may be it for me this year. There are a few teachers that I have been lowkey watching all morning to see if they will make their move. Like a cat in the shadows, I wait.

10:39 am – JUST as I was about to abandon hope, I am approached by the cute married teacher (he’s cute, he’s married, alas) and handed a nicely boxed gift. Extra bonus points since he spoke to me in English. I didn’t even know he spoke English, today is full of surprises.

10:50 am – I am rereading my post from last year. Boy, what a wild time 2018 was! But, I am noticing that amount of gifts I am receiving and the time at which I am receiving them is REMARKABLY SIMILAR. At 10:35 am last year, I also had 12 gifts. Everything is going according to plan.

10:55 am – Bobsled sensei has just given me a gift! As an interesting note, he has opted to give cookies as opposed to a more traditional chocolate confection. On second thought, this really isn’t all that interesting.

11:04 am – One of the female English teachers just came over to give me a very cute heart-shaped cake sort of thing. I have decided that this will be the first item I eat when the time comes.

11:25 am – I have fourteen gifts now. I am wondering if, out of all the teachers, I have the most gifts. I know it *shouldn’t* be a competition but I am absolutely *treating* it like one in the deepest narcissistic pit of my heart. I think I will walk around the teacher’s room later and take some cheeky peeks at the other teachers’ desks.

11:40 am – Another female P.E. teacher just gave me a nice gift, complete with an English note of appreciation! I seem to have made some new friends in the P.E. department with my cookies this year. Exciting times!

11:45 am – Oh, these are exciting times, indeed! Just now, I have received a gift from Kocho sensei, also known as the principal. Based on his status as principal-sama, I expect that these chocolates must be of the highest kocho quality. This brings my total now to 16. At this point, I am projected to top my number from last year.

11:55 am – I have not seen EPS all day, despite him being here today. Should I call the police? Send out a search party? I’m worried that he is lost or dead. Actually, he is dead. Dead to me until he gives me white day chocolates.

12:30 pm – Another gift from another P.E. teacher! It’s quite a large box as well. I seem to be popular with the P.E. department this year, with about 60% of the teachers reciprocating chocos. My hard work is paying off and my ROI is looking great.

12:35 pm – It’s time for lunch but I’m afraid to leave my desk in case someone steals one of my precious chocos. I feel a strange attachment to them, like a dragon jealously guarding her hoard. But alas—I must go, for I am hungry. Is it strange to go out and buy lunch when I probably have over $100 worth of gourmet chocolate on my desk? I make a mental note of exactly how many chocolates there are; I will not tolerate thieves!

1:45 pm – I’m back from lunch. All seems in order. I also used this opportunity to check out some other desks. I am the clear winner in this battle royale.

2:30 pm – It’s been quiet for a while now. BUT ACTUALLY, as I was typing this, another teacher came over to deliver a gift! CONFIRMED: I am a psychic.

3:30 pm – I was just beginning to think that the gift-getting might be finished, but to my surprise I have received another! It’s getting exhausting trying to keep track of all these gifts. Interesting note: despite all NINETEEN of the gifts that I have received today, I have yet to receive one from any of the male English teachers. Just so we are clear, there are FOUR of them. This must be what the sharp knife of betrayal feels like.

4:10 pm – I couldn’t wait any longer and I ate the heart-shaped cake sort of thing. It was a delicious choice. I also made the executive decision to put all of my snacks in my desk since 1.) I was running out of space on my desk and 2.) At this point it just looks like I’m bragging (I am). Furthermore, as I mentioned above, I have a zero tolerance theft policy and these are my loss-prevention measures.

4:12 pm – I ran out of space in my designated “snack drawer” so I had to take advantage of the space in my lesser-used “lesson plans” drawer.

4:15 pm – O shit waddup, ya girl is officially at TWENTY GIFTS!! My boi Shimichan pulled through in the homestretch. If I can get my-age amount gifts does that mean that this will be my golden year?

4:17 pm – Time is precious and there are only about 45 minutes left in the day. The guy in the office must have felt the minutes squeezing by, because he just came up and gave me gift number 21. There is still time for you, EPS!!

5:01 pm  – Well, it’s time to call it a day and head home. Overall, I have to say I am very pleased with the way this year turned out. Many of my predictions turned out to be true (LOOKING AT YOU, EPS), with the notable exception of Dekashita sensei who actually pulled through this year. Now all that’s left to do is to enjoy my snacks...all TWENTY ONE OF THEM!

5:30 pm – Just got home. Can’t wait to see what my real white date has in store for me tonight <3 

[momomomma2]

Hey am not sure what characters you do requests for but there is certainly a lack of Pratt/male rook. If it’s not too much trouble could you do some smut for them please, I love you’re writing even if it does end up with me acting like a middle aged woman clutching my pearls 😂😂

Rook has been in Hope County, Montana for one week. Seven full days as of midnight last night. He’s barely a member of the Sheriff’s Department, only having a badge and gun shoved at him amidst the chaos and the Sheriff taking a moment to firmly shake his hand.

And cryptically tell him, “Sorry you didn’t know the situation before you got transferred, kid.”

Unhelpful. But besides the point.

He’s been here for one single week. And he’s already rolling around in bed with one of his co-workers.

He’s not sure if Hope County has a no fraternization policy but he’s pretty sure neither him nor Staci is going to ask at this point.

“Do you like--” Staci groans against his mouth, words breaking, hips thrusting down as Rook grinds up. “Shit--what was I--top or bottom?”

“Don’t care.” Rook mumbles back, nails biting into shoulders, careful to keep marks hidden beneath imaginary uniform lines. “S’up to you. Just wanna fuck you.”

Staci mumbles something blasphemous and breathless, laughing a bit, pushing back until he’s on his knees over Rook’s hips. He whines, hands falling to pet at his stomach, scratching over the hair there. Damnit, the friction was so good, what’s he doing?

“Been a while since I’ve climbed on top. But I figure it’s like riding a bike.” Staci snorts at his own joke and Rook rolls his eyes, groaning out an exasperated, “Pratt.”

“Okay, you’re right, that was bad. Just let me get--”

Staci doesn’t finished sentences very often, Rook realizes with a sense of amusement, fingers dipping a bit lower to carefully cup and stroke. There’s a broken sort of whine in his ear and Pratt is leaning back, away from the bedside table, lube clenched tight in his grip.

“Stop. We’re not seventeen anymore and we’ve got work tomorrow. You set me off early and that’s it for the night.”

“Pretty sure I could convince you for a round two.” Rook tells him, folding his hands behind his head at Staci’s glare. “Alright, alright. I’ll be a good boy.”

Watching Staci stretch himself is enough to make Rook believe in God. There’s beauty in how his face falls slack, mouth wet and eyes wide, before the stretch burns and it all coils back up. Rook keeps himself in place, one hand around the opposite wrist to keep from reaching out, and shivers at the slick sounds in the air.

“Okay. Okay, I’m--fuck, protection?”

“Might have one in my wallet?” Rook scrambles for the discarded pants best he can, ignoring Staci’s muttered, “you know that you’re not supposed to keep them there.”

He finally finds his wallet, drags it out, pulls the condom from within and hands it over before tossing the thing off the side of the bed once again. Staci’s gentle when he rolls it on, a wicked smirk on his face when Rook groans anyhow, hips jumping up. Damn but he’s strung tight, already tensing up as Staci rises up onto his knees again.

“You ready?”

“Aren’t I supposed to ask you--oh, fuck.” Rook grabs for Staci’s hips when he sinks his weight down without warning, fingers turning into claws, anchoring him in place for a moment. “Holy shit, just--god, you’re so tight.”

“You’re sweet,” Staci grins, removing his hands and linking their fingers before bending Rook’s arms up and back, pinning him to the mattress. “Now stay still.”

Rook can’t, not really. He shifts, shudders, hips rolling up and seeking more even as Staci sinks down until he’s sitting on his thighs. He’s holding onto Staci’s hands so tightly he knows, distantly, it must hurt.

But they’re both too busy gasping, adjusting, losing themselves to whatever is burning hot and wild between them. Staci doesn’t give him any time to recover, doesn’t give himself any time to recover, just starts moving. If he hadn’t told Rook he was out of practice, he’d have never fucking guessed.

“Like a goddamn porn star.” He grits out, bracing his feet to thrust up the next time Staci lets his weight fall. “Fuck.”

“Guess you’re liking it then?”

“Oh, fuck off.” Rook’s head rolls back, grinding into the pillow as he tries to think of anything except the tight, hot grip around his cock. “Christ, I’m close. S-sorry, it’s been a while.”

“S’okay.” Staci lets go, sits high and proud, chin tipped up as he braces his hands on Rook’s chest, moving impossibly faster. “Same--same here.”

They don’t come at the same time because it’s not some cheesy romance novel. Rook comes first, gasping out Staci’s name, clawing at the sheets and Staci’s thighs as it rips him apart from the inside. He reaches out as soon as the stars clear from his vision, clumsily fisting Staci’s cock and jerking in a pattern that isn’t rhythmic or practiced.

But, goddammit, it’s determined. Rook’s never had complaints before, not gonna start now.

Staci takes a bit longer, grinding down onto his lap, stomach muscles clenching in the most appealing way as he works himself between Rook’s grip and his cock. But eventually there’s a half-sighed call of his name and a slick wetness to the slide of Rook’s hand. He pulls away as gently as he can, stroking his clean hand up and down the length of one thigh as Staci tries to catch his breath.

There’s a moment of amusement, when Staci leans down to kiss him and Rook tries to lean up as best he can without actually putting his still dripping hand onto the blanket. They pull away from the kiss laughing and Staci tumbles off of him, landing in a heap and waving a lazy hand towards the door on the other side of the room.

“Bathroom. G’head.”

Rook makes it quick, cleaning himself up before re-emerging, laughing at the way Staci’s already under the covers, lifting the very corner in a clear invitation. He cuddles in close the second he can, pulling and pushing until Staci’s practically sprawled across his chest, head tucked under his chin so he can stroke one hand over the length of his spine.

“Does this mean you’ll make me eggs in the morning?”

“I’ll make you coffee.” Staci yawns, and there’s a note of something curious that slips into his voice. If Rook wasn’t so exhausted he might question it. “Trust me, when we’re in the air and you get the briefing on Eden’s Gate, you won’t wanna have anything on your stomach.”

“Maybe eggs for dinner, then.” Rook holds him close, frowning at the slight shiver that runs down the length of his body.

“Yeah. If we make it that far.”