#i expect full compensation for my emotional damages

[cowin-clawsout]

NO SPOILERS, but the some of my immediate thoughts after watching the Miraculous movie with two of my favourite people:

did not expect a musical, was pleasantly surprised with the actual songs :D

holy shit the writing for this was so much better than i had expected?

i am in tears i am in actual tears that was actually super fuckin satisfying and i need the sequel NOW

4. I WON, ONE OF THE ONLY THINGS I WANTED FROM THE MOVIE WAS TO HEAR THE ACTUAL SHOW'S THEME AND I GOT THAT I FUCKING WON EVERYBODY BECAUSE WE HEARD IT LIKE TWICE!!!

[thedissonantverses]

So about the spirits designed like the human nervous system…This one got dark. Trigger warning for trauma of both the mental and physical type below the cut.

Your nervous system is what lets you feel you know? Not just that it processes input from the outside world but it’s also what lets you think and have emotions and communicate. It’s also the hardest part of the body to heal.

I don’t know if you know this but with patients with spinal cord injuries, their body still tries to find ways to communicate that it’s sick or injured. This can appears like nausea if there’s pain below the injury site where the patient can no longer feel. Or it might be full body sweats and a feeling something is wrong. Their wounds are typically harder to heal below the level of injury because of decreased blood flow, something referred to as neuropathy.

If you amputate a limb, you may get phantom limb sensations from something your body thinks is still supposed to be there. You might get pain. It might be an itch you can never scratch. Sometimes compensating for that amputation causes new injuries you don’t expect. Removing an infected bone removes support which forces the muscles to contort around it.

I’m writing this with constant nerve pain on the left side of my body from a lifetime of damage. Even with pt and surgery it might never go away. It’s easier than you might think to become trapped in your own body.

When you have trauma of the mental kind, the speech language part of the brain looks similar to that of a stroke patient, where there’s damage on the part of the brain called Broca’s Area. Figuring out how to communicate again afterward is an important part of how you heal. You use the neruplastic nature of the brain to make new pathways. It’s difficult, but it can be done.

Thinking a lot about how the Titans had that connection ripped away. Severed utterly. How they’ve spent centuries probably trying to reestablish the bond to their souls. How they’ve been flailing in the dark reaching for those who can no longer hear them, their children who are sick and dying themselves because of the nightmares of their ancestors. How the absence of feeling doesn’t equate to the absence of pain. How numbness is another kind of injury.

How our bodies and our minds and our souls are all connected, and how a wound to one affects the others.

[heebambilee]

Seeing this rumors about Jay and Jungwon it does break my heart a little when I think of the possibility of they being true (the dating rumors), but I totally get that it's someone's own life, they can do whatever they want and date whoever they want, they're already giving their all for our entertainment so the bare minimum is to let them be. No money compensates for the fact that each of them gave up living a full adolescence like any other ordinary person, they gave up the right of their privacy even if they have the right to keep their privacy (cause all of us humans have that right) no money compensates for the emotional damage they have suffered all these years with some ridiculous accusations, after so much effort they deserve to enjoy what they have and what they have achieved, they deserve to find their happiness and it is only up to them if they want to share it with their fans.

I believe that the duty of a fan is to support them during the bad and the good, to support them with their projects and with the decisions they make for their lives (it depends if those decisions involve shady things or things like that, that is where a fan should sit and think about it on their own) without expecting anything in return, if you are one of those fans who expect something from them in return more than a "thank you, i love you"..what the hell are you doing? They gave up a normal life for their dream and you're getting entertainment from them they're not sealing their souls for you to think you own them, it's your decision if you want to spend money on them or not, but they don't owe you anything more than their eternal love and gratitude.

I think many take advantage of the fact that they are public people to take data and photos of them that should not be published because after all they deserve some privacy and time alone with whoever they want to spend it with. Anyway,I think it's time for some "fans", who believe they have the right to ask for explanations from someone who doesn't know you AT ALL, sit in a chair and look around, are you in your bed? look around you..that is YOUR reality..that is YOUR life and you are living it the way you want..go outside, connect with the people around you, visit your own friends or loved ones, look the sun or the moon and enjoy your life. Connect with your reality and realize that for them you are just a fan, an unknown person that they may have never seen in their life, of course they are grateful for your efforts to make them happy and make their dreams come true, but don't expect anything more in return... don't expect loyalty from a person who doesn't owe you anything... go out and fall in love, do you think your idols will care if you get in a relationship? spoiler: they don't care. If you can go out and kiss whoever you want, flirt with whoever you want, see whoever you want and do whatever you want...why can't they? Will you stop living your life the way you want just because a stranger tells you not to? no, right? then wake up... wake up in your reality and get out of your head that one day you are going to meet them and they are going to fall in love with you cause it's not going to happen, life does not work like that... of course you can dream of one day meeting them in person (that is my dream and I hope that everyone who has that same dream can fulfill it) and tell them that you live them and all of that but do not cross the limits... do not create in your mind scenarios that you know are not very possible because at the end of the day you are hurting yourself. I know that enhypen is a safe place for many and that it disconnects them a little from their harsh realities and that's fine, but when you start thinking like those types of people, that's when you should step aside and get worried.

So take a big breath and connect with your reality, focus on your life and let others live their realities the way they want. Follow your own dreams and do your best to meet your own goals and expectations. Take the hard work, effort and dedication of each one of the members of Enhypen as inspiration to live your life and to fight for what you want for you. You don't owe anything to anyone and your idols do not owe you anything beyond what they can and want to give you in gratitude. Don't expect any kind of "special" treatment for spending your own money on things that you yourself decide to buy/spend on, they don't force you to do anything so don't think you have the right to demand anything from them.

Anyway, this is also something I write for myself, to reflect and get rid of that feeling that my heart is broken, something I write from my brain to my heart to realize that it's a silly thing to feel this way. Whether these rumors were true or not, nothing will change the love I have for my 7, I'll continue supporting them in my own way and loving each one of them from a distance, hopefully one day I can see/meet them irl and until then I'll try to save money 😭

I love you Jungwon, I love you Jay, I love you enhypen 🤍

[the-matron-of-ravens]

Genuinely curious, what are your thoughts on Dancer and FCG cuz like, he Literally, not figuratively, tried to kill her and did kill all of her companions at the time. I can see being critical cuz she doesn't seem to treat them like sentient beings, but even in the canon... most of the automatons aren't. Just some of the really old ones from Aeor/other old cities, right? So? She got a whoops!sentient microwave, treated them like a microwave, they killed all her friends and almost her and she's supposed to....? Be good buds with them? Also I know it's said that she trauma dumped on FCG, but let's switch it from microwave to personal journal - how would YOU feel if your personal journal popped to life and attacked you for trauma dumping? IDK haha I guess Idk you opinions and I'm just responding to my projected assumptions of your opinion. REALLY I'd 100% sincerely would like to hear your thoughts. I was really bothered by FCG pushing to meet with Dancer. Like jeez just leave her alone, you're her literal sleep paralysis demon, read the room.

Hey! Thanks for the ask, I put this a little bit in the tags but I can elaborate more here. (Edit: elaborate A LOT MORE it seems)

So here goes, I don’t know if you meant it this way but the analogy of a journal or microwave is helpful here because that’s exactly how Dancer treated FCG - as a tool to be used. But they *aren’t*. FCG is a whole being with emotions and thoughts all of which are apparent and so clearly distinct from other automatons.

So tbh, I think the perspective of “whoops! Sentient bot” makes sense for like a month, max. Not years. After all, we have seen NPC after NPC recognize FCG is a sentient being almost immediately after meeting him. I find it VERY hard to believe that Dancer never realized it herself.

Additionally, we need to step out of the plot itself and look at FCG’s mechanics. We know that every time he heals, takes damage for someone else, etc. he takes stress points, and that once past a certain threshold his switch flips and he goes full Murderbot.

We also know that rest and recovery are what reduces FCG’s stress points. So that tells us that Dancer was using and using and using FCG and not letting him rest (enough? At all?) even though he needed it. Because again he’s a person not a tool.

Even when they met back up recently and FCG sobered her up she remarked how she missed him doing that for her. And while I don’t expect her to miss him, I do think it’s indicative of her interest in him never being about him as a person but only how he could serve her.

And if we want to criticize FCG for his lack of boundaries, inability to take no for an answer and pathological need to fix Dancer sure that’s fair. He needs to unlearn a lot of that and quick. But we then have to ask ourselves where did those traits come from? They didn’t come from nowhere.

FCG is mentally extremely YOUNG. Aside from the 6?-ish Months spent with Ashton all he remembers is his time with Dancer. So, if FCG has a pathological need to fix others, to help them, and feels worthless if he’s unable to do so - that comes from how Dancer treated and trained him.

That doesn’t just go away; ESPECIALLY not when FCG doesn’t even remember going postal and doesn’t see to have the (IMO) most clear and realistic view of his and Dancer’s relationship.

After all look how he interacts with the Changebringer. She’s his surrogate Mom/Dancer. He needs someone to tell him how to feel, think, and what’s Good and Bad because he doesn’t know how to do it for himself - because he wasn’t *taught* to.

But here’s my real question. What do we call one person keeping another person in service to them, with no compensation or personhood to be had, and with no intentions of releasing that person from that service? That’s slavery my dude. AT BEST indentured servitude.

(but that implies there’s a debt. What debt? Waking him up? He didn’t ask for that; that was her choice.

And again this sounds a lot like children being “indebted” to parents for giving them life, housing, feeding, etc. )

That’s the part I can’t get over. And that’s the part I can’t get behind where FCG is the abusive one. The power differential was NEVER in FCG’s court; he never once thought of himself as a person or as anything but in service of “Soul Touched”. That complete sacrifice of yourself and your needs (or an inability to even know you HAVE needs) comes from being in relationships where those things are expected/demanded.

So, yeah, he literally tried to kill her, and I gotta be real I’m not surprised. Even children of abusive parents who they love snap sometimes. Because again, that’s mentally what he was at the time. A child.

But even then, no I don’t think it’s unreasonable or unrealistic for Dancer to be traumatized or not want to see FCG again. I don’t even think she’s wrong to say “I can’t give you closure” because closure isn’t something other people give you.

But the way she’s been discussed to be largely clueless about his sentience, blameless in his blow up, and FCG’s victim? I just can’t get behind that. Like at all.

[tenebrius-excellium]

I don't know if this is a correct™ opinion to have on the world but I see people keep on saying that you do not need to forgive those who wronged you in 2024 and I'm so amazed like. Then how exactly do you plan on making the world a better place if forgiveness is not ever an option for you? Like, if you're completely, 100% opposed to giving the worst people you know a fresh start (especially if they have changed), how can you expect others to give you a fresh start when you fuck up?? Not if. When. If you don't think you could be capable of doing something unforgivable, you're likely already doing it. How are you holier? How are you all high and mighty to judge? Everybody goes through shit. Something something if a wildly gracious justice system can exempt a certain group of people from getting grace because "they should definitely pay gruesomely", beware that that group of people, based on the current tastes in politics, is not someday you.

What I'm trying to get at is this difference, though: I, too, know the outrageous, mind-boggling and completely uncalled for pattern of someone doing something cruel to me (sometimes over the span of years) and people being so fast to tell me that "you need to forgive".

No. Because it's not that easy either. They are NOT getting away with it. They did what they did, and they're guilty, and it was wrong, and it hurt, and it stole so much, and it came at a terrible cost to my life and to my loved ones.

People who tell me to forgive haven't allowed me to be angry yet. And that is something crucial that is often forgotten or passed over.

Let me tell you that anger is unskippable. Anger is unskippable. Anger is unskippable. Anger is the healthy part that defends you against the injustice done to you. Anger is what keeps resentment internalized forever if it is not expressed. And I see it especially in Christian circles that anger is frowned upon as an emotion because you're supposed to be always uplifting, always helpful, always kind.

That is suppressing another kind of biblical principle though which tells us that we should be angry at all kinds of injustice. If it's done to us, anger is a phase in our response that we need to give space to if we want to process the rehabilitation stage properly. People keep telling me to forgive. I often thought to myself 'honey, I haven't even started getting angry.' I'm not there yet. By now, I tell people. "I'm still in the anger stage, and I'm going to stay there for as long as I feel the need to." I enjoy it. I savor it. It's a way of loving myself. It's important that I give this to myself. It's not about doing damage back. It's expressing angry feelings verbally until I am heard.

Once you're heard - by other people, by God, by yourself - only then can you take responsibility for it and let go. It's important you get there, but it's important to not be alone in it. Everybody deserves to be heard. Everybody deserves to be compensated for their loss, and in Christianity, we actually have that in Christ as well. Jesus paid the price, Jesus compensates for what was done to us. THIS is how we let go. By knowing that Jesus knows, Jesus heard, Jesus is going to personally get us reimbursed for all the time, health, relationships, skills, money, and peace we suffered the loss from. One-upping this is believing that it will happen in this life. Preaching to myself here, because I, too, am not free of judgment yet. Yes, forgive, but never skip anger. Take responsibility for your life and let go. Let the reason things stay sour in the world never be because of you. A good friend of mine keeps saying "there needs to be blood for this." And then he goes on smiling and continues "just let it be Jesus' blood and not your enemy's." Somebody else paid. It's all good. It required the full tour. Prison, a beating, a public mocking, a satisfying criminal's death. There are options to be rightfully angry and to accuse someone of wrong, to demand, to insist on justice. But then, if someone else stepped in to pay their price, who are we to deny someone redemption?

Anyway, that's just what I believe.

[jamesadams0003]

What to Look for When Hiring a Car Accident Attorney: Key Considerations and Questions to Ask?

Car accidents can be traumatic and life-altering, leaving victims in a state of physical, emotional, and financial distress. When faced with the aftermath of a car crash, it is crucial to hire the right car accident attorney to navigate the legal complexities and fight for your rights. In this blog post, we will discuss the key considerations and questions to ask when hiring a car accident attorney in Utah to ensure that you receive the representation you deserve.

Why Hiring a Car Accident Attorney is Essential:

1. Knowledge and Expertise: Car accident attorneys specialize in personal injury law and have a deep understanding of the legal framework surrounding car accident cases. They possess the knowledge and expertise necessary to handle complex legal procedures, and they stay updated on relevant laws and regulations.

2. Experience with Insurance Companies: Dealing with insurance companies can be overwhelming, especially when they try to minimize payouts or deny claims. A skilled car accident attorney in Utah has experience negotiating with insurance companies, ensuring that you are not taken advantage of and receive fair compensation for your injuries.

3. Building a Strong Case: A car accident attorney knows how to build a solid case by gathering evidence, interviewing witnesses, obtaining medical records, and working with accident reconstruction experts. They understand the vital factors to consider, such as establishing liability, determining damages, and calculating the full extent of your losses.

Key Considerations when Hiring a Car Accident Attorney:

1. Relevant Experience: Look for a car accident attorney who specializes in personal injury or car accident cases. Consider their track record and success rate in similar cases. Experience matters, as it brings familiarity with various legal strategies and an understanding of what it takes to win.

2. Reputation and Reviews: Research the attorney's reputation and read reviews from previous clients. Look for testimonials that highlight their professionalism, communication skills, and ability to secure favorable outcomes.

3. Communication and Accessibility: Communication is key throughout the legal process. Ensure that the attorney is accessible and responsive to your needs. A reliable car accident attorney will keep you updated about the progress of your case and promptly address any concerns or questions you may have.

4. Fee Structure: Discuss the attorney's fee structure upfront to avoid any surprises. Most car accident attorneys work on a contingency basis, meaning they only get paid if they win your case. Clarify the percentage they will take from your settlement and any additional costs or fees you may be responsible for.

Questions to Ask a Car Accident Attorney:

1. How many car accident cases have you handled, and what were the outcomes?

2. How do you communicate with your clients, and how often can I expect to hear from you?

3. Will you personally handle my case, or will it be assigned to another attorney in your firm?

4. What is your strategy for negotiating with insurance companies?

5. How do you determine the value of my case and calculate the compensation I may be entitled to?

Conclusion:

Hiring the right car accident attorney is crucial for obtaining the justice and compensation you deserve after a car crash. Consider the attorney's knowledge, experience, reputation, communication skills, and fee structure when making your decision. By asking the right questions and conducting thorough research, you can find a skilled car accident attorney in Utah who will fight tirelessly on your behalf to ensure a favorable outcome.

[wannabemobwife]

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas - Chapter 16

Chapter 16: Things We Supposedly Lost in the Fire

Dad!Mob!Tom x Mom!Mob!Reader

-Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader, Rosie Holland x Henry Osterfield

-Warnings: Grief, barely suicidal thoughts, fire

-Words: 4K

Author note: Tom and Y/N don’t really age, I think of them as like Barbie and Ken, never aging. Final chapter will be up tonight around 9-10 PM PST. Sorry for the wait, you guys are so patient. Love ya.

Chapter 16: Things We Supposedly Lost in the Fire

Words: 4K

There you were, standing alongside your husband, daughter and friend as the building before your eyes erupted in a blaze. Smashing windows as the remaining members of Wilson’s mob, funneled their way out of the burning warehouse. Coughing up all the inhaled smoke.

One by one, people bursted out of the doors gasping for fresh air. Their lungs constricted from the dark ash that bled through the sky. You just stood there, next to your family, taking in the sight before you. As sirens rang through the air

The smoke and flames kept raging on, but there was still no sign of Parker.

That was 5 days ago. Now, you were in the present, trying to survive. The fire that took 3 days to put out, claimed the lives of your son Parker, Carter Wilson and multiple men.

Everyone was dealing with Parker’s demise differently. Harrison and Henry had so generously offered to stay with all of you for the time being. You took them up on that.

You refused to leave your room for a week, barely acknowledging Tom and Rosie. Tom would try to get some reaction from you, but you would lay there, catatonic. Oblivious to the outside world. Maybe coming down for a cup of coffee but then heading straight up back to your room.

Parker was your baby boy, words couldn’t express how you were feeling. A piece of you was missing.

You would walk down stairs and catch a glimpse of all the photographs perched everywhere, showcasing you, Tom, Rosie and Parker’s greatest moments. Everything reminded you of him.

The car keys flooded back memories of first teaching him how to drive. You were so scared. Every parent feels the same but it is hard to relinquish control of your car and put your life in someone else’s hands. You would flinch anytime he broke a little too hard. Always pushing on your imaginary brake.

“Ok, now put the car in drive. Make sure you keep your foot on the brake.” You began, instructing Parker how to drive.

You thought it be best if Tom taught Rosie and you taught Parker how to drive. You didn’t need twice the amount of heart attacks. “Ok, what next?” Parker asked after shifting from park gear to drive gear. Or so he thought.

“Give it a little gas now.” “Ok….” Parker barely touched the accelerator and the car shot backwards.

“PARKER! AAAAHHHHH!” You screamed as he lost control of the car. He slammed so hard on the brake, sending you flying into the dashboard. Your head knocked into the front, instantly creating a splitting headache.

“Oh, mom are you okay?” Parker questioned, preparing himself for your outburst.

“No, switch seats I’m driving home. That’s enough for today. The problem was you were in reverse and you hit the brake way too hard.” You explained with a calm voice, inside you were seething with anger. Pressing your hand to your head to try and subside your head.

“How did I know R stood for reverse, it could have been the R in drive?” Parker mocked sarcastically. “Honey, I love you but your dad is going to teach you from now on.”

You drove home safely and immediately went to the kitchen for an ice pack. Your head was throbbing. Tom greeted you, he was reading in the living room.

“How did the first lesson go?” Tom asked, noticing the scowl with adorned your face.

“Why don’t you ask Parker?” You snapped, pressing the cool ice pack to the soon to be bump on your head.

“Ok.… Parker any idea what your mom is talking about?” Tom inquired, knowing to not press you with anymore questions.

“I may have gone a little too fast and slammed on the brake,” Parker mumbled

“There’s more to that story,” you barked. Of course Parker was leaving the part of going in reverse instead of drive.

“I may have picked the wrong gear…” Parker divulged.

“HE WAS IN REVERSE!! NOT DRIVE!!” You shouted.

“Oh—“ Tom started to say but was cut off by you again.

“And then when he braked, he stopped so hard my head hit the dashboard.” You explaining, throwing your hands up in fury to point at your head. Tom started to chuckle. He tried to suppress a laugh but you were not having it.

“Are you laughing?” You thundered.

“Umm… no.” Tom’s entire expression totally changed as he saw the daggers you were shooting him.

“Tom, it’s not funny. Our son doesn’t know the difference between drive and reverse.”

“Guys, I’m still right here.” Parker chimed in as you spoke of him as if he wasn’t in the room.

“SAY SOMETHING!” You snapped at Tom’s defeating silence.

“Parker be more careful next time.” Tom explained to Parker.

“That’s it? Seriously?… Next time, you drive with him and you will feel my frustration and pain.” You sighed, giving up on this fight.

Life was so much simpler then, you were just trying to raise two wonderful kids. Helping them along the path of life, but there are always detours. You never expected life to have this many bumps. You especially didn’t expect your son to not live a full life. One full of wonder and joy.

Tom had his own way of mourning. He began to relish in his kills, channeling all his emotion into running the mob. Spending night after night bashing in skulls. Coming home with blood drenched clothes.

You understood everyone worked through their grief differently but his way seemed unhealthy. Tom had a few quarrels with anyone associated with the Wilson mob. He blamed them for the death of Parker.

Tom was currently, in his warehouse torturing some poor sap who was a well known capo of the Wilsons. “Tom, give it up. He’s not going to talk,” Haz told Tom as the continued to torture one of Wilson’s soldiers in front of him.

Carter had died along with Parker in the fire and Tom didn’t really know who the new leader was. All he knew is that he still wanted revenge.

“He’s right, you should just kill me. I know to keep my mouth shut unlike your dead son,” the soldier barked, warranting a swift strike to the jaw.

“Don’t you ever fucking mention him again. Your leader killed him. I should do the same to you to receive a smidge of compensation,” Tom snarled as he wrapped his hands around his throat, cutting off his airway completely.

“Tom, come on. He’s not worth it. Let him go,” Haz pleaded as the man started to turn blue.

“Haz, I can’t. How can I let him walk free, when he is the reason Parker is dead?” Tom explained, loosening his hands.

“That was Carter, not some menial soldier. He probably has a family like you,” Harrison talked Tom down.

“You’re free to go,” Haz concluded as he untied the poor man in front of them. He bolted for the door as quick as possible.

“Haz, I can’t do this. I need Parker here. He was supposed to be doing this. Not me… I feels unreal how much I miss him,” Tom cried.

“I know. We all miss him.”

“I couldn’t even protect my own son. Do you get that? And this can’t be the end. I can’t just move on, knowing I’m supposed to bury him tomorrow,” Tom swore.

“Tom, it will get better,” Harrison consoled him.

“How? I can’t just have an open ended statement. I need a solution. Something to fix this ache in my heart. How can I make this pain go away?” Tom pleaded.

“Tom, there is no answer. You just have to try and work through your grief and eventually move forward.”

“You know, Parker asked me the same thing right after Charlotte died. He needed the pain of her death to be lifted from his shoulders. I told him he needed time, but I lied. I knew he could never move on. That this would stick with him for years to come. That’s how I feel right now. There is no remedy except trying to make those bastards pay. Can you let me do that?” Tom exclaimed.

“Tom, I… yes, I can. Only because I know that is what you need right now. Someone to have your back. And I promise I always will.” Harrison tried to comfort his grieving friend but it was hard. Hard to explain to Tom that it only seemed like his world was ending.

That night Tom came into your shared room looking half dead. He had black eye and bruises that littered all over his body. From that moment you knew you both couldn’t keep living like this. You couldn’t keep shoving down your feelings and refusing to face the world, same with Tom but instead of shutting people out the was instigating fights left and right.

“Tom, I need to talk to you,” you sighed as Tom entered the room

“Yes, baby. Anything. I’m just happy to hear your voice,” Tom replied, surprised you were speaking to him. This was his first verbal conversation with you in days.

“We need to make a change, we can’t keep living like this. It isn’t healthy,” you began but was faced with a heart broken Tom.

“Y/N, don’t say that please,” Tom pleaded.

“Tom, we aren’t moving forward. We’re stuck.”

“No, Y/N we can move on from this. Please don’t leave me.”

“What? Tom, I would never. I need you more than you need me,” you questioned.

“Seriously doubt that. Baby please don’t scare me like that again. If I don’t have you. I don’t have anything,” Tom whispered as he came to your side, wrapping his arms around you.

“Tom, you’ll always have me. But what I was meaning to talk about is, I think you need to step away from the mob for a while. You aren’t dealing with losing Parker healthily. Killing people for sport doesn’t help process your pain.” You said, trying to fight back the tears.

“Y/N, I’m not ready to accept it. He can’t be gone. Our son can’t be gone,” Tom cried out.

“Tom, I’ve been feeling the same way. Instead of working through our grief together, we’ve been fighting our own battles and it is doing more damage than good. I’m drowning here, I need you. I need you next to my side to help me through this because I wake up most mornings and have thoughts that I should never think about. Like I don’t want to live this life anymore or live at all.”

“Love, I didn’t know. Y/N, I don’t ever want you feeling that way.”

“I know but I don’t want to feel this way either. We need to get away. Eventually far from the mob, maybe travel like you always wanted to,” you sniffled, wiping away tears.

“Y/N, you know I want that but, I can’t just leave. Our life is here,” Tom explained.

“I’m not saying now. But I can’t live out my days in this house, all I see is him and everything that we’ve lost. I can’t do it anymore. It’s killing me. Don’t you see that? I need to know that we will have our happy ending somewhere other than here. Once Rosie has graduated. In three years, we leave. Please give me that, you pleaded.

“Y/N, I promise. In 3 years we can start our happily ever after.” Tom agreed. You finally had a date in mind. You needed to find happiness somewhere else that wasn’t tainted with Parker’s memory.

Everyone was suffering, Rosie however was very good at hiding it. She was the rock when Parker passed. She knew if the roles were reversed, Parker would be there for everyone.

She threw herself in the mob and other aspects, refusing to let herself break down like the rest of her family. She was mostly consoling Henry. Henry had a hard time adjusting to life without his best friend. He tried to be strong for Rosie but nights she would find him crying himself to sleep.

“Are you coming to bed?” Rosie asked as Henry was held up in living room.

“I don’t think so just yet, I have to finish this,” Henry sighed in frustration, while lounging on the couch.

“What is it?” Rosie asked, coming over to snuggle with him.

“Parker’s eulogy. Did you finish your’s?”

“Umm, yeah I did.” Rosie responded, in reality she hadn’t even thought about it. Planning on making it up as she went tomorrow.

“It’s just killing me. To actually think of him as gone, especially because of tomorrow. I’m not ready to say goodbye,” Henry cried, trying to fight back tears.

“I know. I miss him too,” Rosie responded. Henry started breaking into a fit of sobs and Rosie moved to comfort him. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

“Why are you not sadder? I haven’t once seen you break down, like everyone else,” Henry sniffled.

“I don’t know, maybe I just went through the stages of grief quicker. I’ve already accepted it.”

“Ok well, glad you aren’t as sad as me. Then we would have two blubbering messes. I know this probably a huge turn off,” Henry muttered, stopping to blow his nose. She chuckled in response but Rosie knew something was off. She shed a few tears looking at the building blazing that night but she hadn’t cried since.

Quickly changing the subject to not seem like a heartless wrench she asked. “What are you writing about? Can I have a sneak peek?”

“That’s the hard part, I was trying to think of a story about Parker and I’s friendship but I keep coming up blank. Either he wasn’t actually my best friend or I’ve just repressed all memories about him.”

“Oh baby—,“

“It’s ok. I’m okay.… I’m sorry Roo, but could you help me?”

“Of course, what do you have so far?” “I have the title “Parker’s eulogy,” and that’s it,” Henry said, reading off the words written on the paper he had been staring at for an hour.

“Oh okay, well. Maybe you should talk about a funny story between the two of you.”

“Ok, I have one. Once upon a time…”

“Henry, you can’t start a eulogy with once upon a time.”

“You didn’t let me finish, once upon a time I met this boy and he had the most adorable, and at the same time, beautiful sister. She is so perfect in so many ways. I grew hopelessly in love with her. To this day I still am.”

“Aww, as much as I love that story it barely mentions Parker.”

“Roo, it’s too hard. I can’t sit here and reminisce all the times we spent together. I can’t write down stories that I’ve already lived. I can’t tell them to others and start referring to him as a ‘was’ and not a ‘is’. I’m not capable of telling the story of how one year where both our families went skiing, Parker and I snuck on a black diamond slope without permission and both ended up with a broken leg. Or the story of how I knew Parker and I would be best friends forever, I shouldn’t be the only one telling it, he should be here too. It’s not fair. Why could’ve it been me?”

“Henry, don’t say that. I don’t know what I’d do without you. But that seems like a good anecdote, write about that.”

“Rosie, you don’t get it. I can’t, I physically can’t do it… I’m sorry but I don’t understand why you aren’t sad. It’s weird. My best friend is dead and the weird part is that HE WAS YOUR BROTHER and you don’t even seem the least bit bothered by it,” Henry thundered, his sad voice morphing into an accusatory one. “Sorry, I was just trying to help…. I’ll see you tomorrow, night.” Rosie finished quickly excusing herself without so much as a goodnight kiss. She knew Henry was going through something but he didn’t have to take it out on her. She quickly made her way to bed and waited for the next day to come.

The day no one was actually prepared for.

The day of Parker’s funeral. Everyone’s final goodbye to your son.

Everyone managed to dress appropriately, in all black to symbolize your mourning. The day however was rather beautiful, a bright blue streaked across ever corner of the sky. Not a single cloud in sight, which was near impossible thing in London. Parker would’ve loved a day like this. For one he wouldn’t be at a funeral, especially not his own. He would be at the beach or going for a bike ride under the gorgeous sun.

The weather kind of taunted you. How dare the day be beautiful the day you bury your son. You knew it was silly but it felt like a cosmic joke of some sorts.

People started gathering at the cemetery. Nikki, Dom, Harry, Sam and Paddy were already there to help you and everyone else get through that day.

Nikki was mostly concerned with helping Rosie. She knew you had been a little checked out lately, no fault of your own, you were grieving. Nikki just wanted to make sure Rosie was dealing with her emotions, not shoving them aside.

“Rosie, I understand if the eulogy will be too hard. I can read it for you,” Nikki offered, catching a glance of Rosie going over he eulogy underneath a tree. “No, it’s ok. I should be the one to do it,” Rosie exclaimed.

“Parker would understand. All your emotions couldn’t be more valid. Have you allowed yourself to cry over him yet?” “Don’t worry I did. Odd question though, thought you’d be wanting me to be strong. I have been for everyone else.” “Rosie, you don’t have to with me. I’m here for you, flower.”

“I’m fine grandma, I should check on mom.”

“It’s okay, I’ll send Harry,” Nikki concluded, grabbing her phone to shoot Harry a text.

“Mom, I gonna get Y/N to eat something” Harry said, calling out to Nikki.

“Really, how?” “I came prepared. Granted it is only chocolate but baby steps. How’s Rosie? Is she freaking out about the eulogy?”

“She says she can handle it. I believe her. I just don’t know where that girl got all her strength. Certainly not from us.”

“I have a clue…” Harry explained, his eyes wandering to you sitting in the front row.

“Come on, the proceedings are about to start.” Nikki said, pulling her son to meet everyone else, atop the small hill.

The person officiating the ceremony was standing behind a chestnut colored casket, about to be lowered into the ground. There were 3 chairs, for you, Tom, and Rosie. Everyone else stood as they witnessed Parker be lowered into his final resting place.

Tears manage to fall throughout the entire day, but they came more frequently as Rosie stood up to deliver her eulogy. Rosie somberly walked near the casket, passing the dozens of roses on top. She was clutching to her note cards, her guideline to the hardest goodbye ever.

“My brother was the greatest person I ever knew. He had already dealt with so much loss, it is unfair that we are gathered here today to mourn him. I’ve been trying to think of what to say, maybe an amusing anecdote or embarrassing story. Maybe one where he demonstrated bravery. But I think I’ll just say what all of us having been thinking. It feels unreal that he is gone. He was my twin and I can honestly say not having him beside me, feels like a piece of me is missing.” Rosie began, fighting back the urge to cry.

“He would always manage to bring a smile to my face even the darkest of times. I’ve celebrated every birthday with him, every school event, my entire life with him. We were supposed to be the same age till the end of time together. I miss him more than I can bare but we have a chance to honor him and not mourn, it is what he would have wanted. My brother was always there for me, especially at my weakest. From carrying me into the house after I fell on my tricycle and skinned my knee to comforting me with cupcakes and ice cream after a break up. We all need that person in our lives. And Parker was my anchor, my savior and my best friend. If you have that person now, please give them a reminder of how much you love them. Parker and I both know I should I’ve said more often, he the same. I’m sorry P. And with this flower, I finally say goodbye to my guide post, my better half, my brother. We will always miss you.” Rosie finished and quickly wiped the tears that had fallen with the back of her hand.

She glanced over at you, bailing into Tom’s shoulder. Her words moved you to a whole other level of grief. This whole time you had been grieving for yourself. It’s not selfish, but you realized just how bad everyone else was hurting.

After the funeral, everyone made it back to the manor for the reception. Hors d’oeuvres made their way around to guests, conveniently managing to skip you. Harry was still getting on your nerves, hoping you’d eat something.

Harry would constantly bring food beneath your nose, waving an assortment of healthy snacks and candy in front of your face. He was determined to get you to eat something even if chocolate melted in his suit pockets.

“Hey, Y/N/N. How are you holding up?” Harry asked, finding you staring blankly into space. “I’ve definitely been better,” you responded, chuckling at your current state.

“Y/N, can you please eat something?” Harry asked, shoved food in your face. “I’m fine, thank you though,” you blatantly stated, probably for the tenth time.

“Come on, I have your favorite,” Harry smirked. “You have MnM’s?” you quipped, your ears perking up.

“Yes…”

“Ok give them to me.” You nearly lunged to grab the bag from his hands. In truth you had been starving yourself, you were hungry but couldn’t find the will to eat. Sweets were sure better than the fancy finger food your cook was serving.

Everyone else seemed to be within their own world. Tom had immediately gone back to talking shop, more like who are we gonna kill next week. People seemed to disappear, one in particular, Rosie. You asked Henry, to try and find her. He scoured the house in search of her and eventually found her in Parker’s room. For days the door had been locked, no one wanted to confront the reality of his bed not being slept in or his clothes not worn. It would reaffirm that he is gone and it was going to take a long time to heal.

“Rosie? You in here?” Henry whispered, knocking softly on the door. It creaked opener evening a distraught Rosie, crying on her bed.

Tears streamed down her face as she croaked out, “Hi.”

“Oh, Rosie,” Henry consoled as he moved to embrace her. She broke into a fit of sobs.

“He’s gone. He said he was right behind me,” Rosie looked up, with puffy red eyes.

“Shhh, it’s ok. I’m here,” Henry said, moving to bring her in his arms.

“I should’ve never left him behind. I keep blaming myself. If I never left him, he would still be here.”

“Roo, baby. You can’t do that.”

“I know, I know but I can’t do this. I’m not ready for him to be gone,” Rosie cried, into Henry’s suit. Tears never bothered to stop coming. She completely broke with him, all the pain and grief she had been hiding was now in the spotlight. Rosie wasn’t ready for a goodbye, none of you were.

Everyone eventually came to the same conclusion, that all the scars in your heart will heal with time. Even though the sadness never fades, you learn to grow with it.

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas Masterlist

Taglist: @dummiesshort @thenoddingbunny-blog @adriannauni @allthisfortommy @bi-lmg @quaksonhehe @housepartyprotocol

[yoolee]

Actual, real world advice from Lee: Useful corporate phrases

I have no idea if anyone still checks this blog, and if they do, this has nothing to do with what usually gets posted, but I’ve done two of these, so here’s a third!

“Thanks, you’ve given me something to think about.”

Use it: When you get feedback you don’t agree with - especially if you have an immediate emotional reaction to it.

Why: Because it acknowledges but doesn’t agree. Basically buys you time to react privately without damaging the relationship. Immediately (and emotionally) jumping into telling someone why they’re wrong is only going to strain the relationship. When you’re getting feedback, you want the other person to feel heard (science says even having the opportunity to air negative feelings makes people feel more positively about the thing). That doesn’t mean you have to AGREE. This statement lets you acknowledge, while buying you time to process. This also gives you an out on things like opinions people have on presentations or projects: if they bring it up later you can say you thought about it, but decided to keep what you had because A/B/C and by then you’ll have had time to craft an ironclad response. 

“I can’t, I have a prior commitment.”

Use it: When you’re being asked to work hours that your coworkers aren’t, or that you are not part of your regular schedule, or, you know, when you have a prior commitment and don’t want to give details.

Why: Your time is your time and you don’t owe an explanation! Yes, it’s important to be a team player, and it’s important to be flexible and get the work done when it needs to get done, bit if you’re in a situation where, say, a parent isn’t asked to come in the weekend because your boss knows they have kids, and you are because they know you don’t, draw the line. There’s often a temptation to justify unavailability (lie and say doctor’s appointment, family event, traveling) but you do not owe justification for your time being your own, and not wanting to take the burden of additional responsibility without additional compensation in return. Being in the habit of not providing justification will come in handy if you ever don’t want to disclose something later (eg, private appointment, interview at another workspace) - it won’t seem suspicious that you’re suddenly being vague. 

“The goal/outcome for this meeting is...”

Use it: When you’re running a meeting.

Why: You would be amazed how different everyone’s perceptions of their role in a meeting are, and setting expectations so obviously may feel silly but wow it helps. Let’s say I schedule a 1:1 with my boss. I just call it, Lee/Boss 1:1. I walk in and start venting about how Coworker is always late in responding to my emails. What does my boss do? In this case, my boss doesn’t know if I want them to fix my problem, if I want them to just let me air my grievances, or if I want them to give me advice, etc. If they do something other than what I want, we’ll both be frustrated. If I instead I preface it by saying, “I’m going to handle this on my own, but I just need to say it and be heard.” or “I need some advice.” then we both go into the convo knowing our roles. This works on big meetings too, “I’m going to make the final decision but I schedule this meeting to hear your input…” “At the end of the meeting I want to walk away with a budget we’ve all approved…” 

“What is the most important thing for us to accomplish [during this meeting]?”

Use it: When you don’t know the expectations for a meeting, you don’t think you need to be in the meeting, the meeting has a lot of people on it, or you’re getting frustrated because you don’t know why there’s a meeting in the first place.

Why: So that you and the person leading the meeting don’t focus on different things! See the above entry :)  

“Hypothetically, what would the ideal outcome look like?”

Use it: When someone is stuck on a problem (including yourself).

Why: We tend to artificially impose limits on our problem-solving, which stops us from being creative, going into an open-ended hypothetical offers a new vantage point.

A lot of times when we’re stuck, we try so hard to make do with what we’ve got that we fail to consider how much more is actually available to us. Start with the ideal and figure out which components of it are accessible. Then work backwards with what/how/who questions. What/how/who are open-ended. They make you think! Consider: “Can you rent space by this weekend?” this is a closed decision, it limits you to yes/no, and puts limiters on the delivery (what comes to mind are event halls, restaurants, etc) Compare to: “What kind of space do you need?” which could prompt something like, oh, just space for 10 people - what about a park? Open-ended questions are your friend when trying to help someone solve a problem (even if that ‘someone’ is yourself!) 

(not a phrase)  Save ‘I’ for remediation, passive voice for problems

Use it: When you have to communicate a problem that is not your fault.

Why: Because you shouldn’t take responsibility for something that isn’t your responsibility - but throwing someone else under the bus is NEVER a good look. Putting the ‘I’ on action shows you’re working on it. Consider, “I don’t have bandwidth to take on this project right now” vs “This project will require more analysis than that timeframe allows, but I can start on it [later ETA].” The latter is stronger - the fault is on the project, not your time management (or your leadership’s inability to see that your plate is full). Also, “I haven’t finished because Bob hasn’t sent me the graphics.” vs, “The project’s just waiting on graphics. I should be able to wrap up by Tuesday if they arrive Monday. I’ve reached out to Bob, his ETA is [ETA]”. Same thing - it’s communicated that the project isn’t finished, but the fault is left sort of nebulous. You’re not artificially taking it one, and you’re not tossing Bob under the bus. Takes some practice, but definitely makes life easier. Caveat (there’s always one): If you screw up, take ownership and do it fast. It is always, ALWAYS better to control the narrative of failure than for your leadership to find out you failed from someone else.

(not a phrase) KEEP TALKING

Use it: When you’re interrupted by someone being obnoxious.

Why: Because you’re not done, and they’re being rude, and this communicates that without calling them out. Legit, just finish your sentence like you don’t hear them talking. Don’t miss a beat. Not to make this about gender, but this is something I, as a female on mostly all-male teams, have found to be EXTREMELY effective, to the point of other people reaching out to me after like wow that interrupting person was kinda bein’ an asshole, sorry, and me being like no biggie thanks for noticing and taking my back. Has that secondary reach out ever happened when I just meekly cut myself off for them? No. Caveat - maybe don’t do this if the person interrupting is like, a VP/CEO they won’t take it well. Also, second caveat, have some grace for your coworkers if it’s not something they do often and you work with them frequently - we all get overexcited and interrupt unintentionally. This is specifically for use in scenarios where a) you are not being heard  and you need to be b) you are the authority (either by knowledge, seniority, or scheduling) c) to make someone who interrupts habitually aware they’re doing it to you.

Edit: The fantastic and wise @han-pan​ offered as well, “Can I finish?” quoth she: “I find it helpful because it identifies that person has interrupted, it is stark and direct enough to startle someone out of talking louder and louder until you finish, and it’s really hard to be mad at someone for asking your permission when you’ve fucked up.” AND I AGREE. This is a good one to use in those ‘have some grace’ moments, as it’s less likely to damage the relationship.

“Sorry, but I don’t have the decision-making or budget authority.”

Use it: When someone on LinkedIn wants you to try their service...

Why: Because they’ll leave you alone, usually.

“What’s the most important issue for you to solve/question for you to answer?”

Use it: When you’re disagreeing on approach with someone.

Why: Again, expectation aligning!

Sometimes people just dig their heels in on something. There’s usually a reason. Let’s say Coworker A and Coworker B are both working a presentation for Director C. Coworker A is frustrated because they’ve been given strict instructions to keep it to 15 minutes, but Coworker B keeps adding slides, even after A deletes them. By asking B what the most important question for them to answer is, A can use that as a guidepost to focus the presentation. (Likewise, if B asks, what’s the issue, they’ll understand A is really concerned about going over time)

[twstedtales]

Sorry Athy for resent this again cause maybe tmblr decided to purged it soo ...

Hi Athy! Chapter 6 is coming up and sksksksks all the emotion bagged with the VDC, Grim, the kidnap then Idia is somehow connected with all of those dramas with S.T.Y.X and Jupiter ... I really want to hear your feelings about the recent event happening with Twst chapter 6 cause I think people right now are very confused, cram with theories and having mixed feeling about many, many things.

Oh and I also that anon chan had accidentally sent you the art museum reqs so ... I'm so sorry about that! Hope you're doing fine and pls remind yourself every day that your writing is not cheap pls <3

Jwjeje hi!! tumblr probably purged your first question 😭 I just received this one last night but i couldn't get to it immediately because of some personal shenanigans but here we go! 

Episode 6 spoilers, unprofessional screeching, long rambling with a few curses under the cut! Proceed with caution because i won't be able to contain my feels 💦

Soooo, I've read the last chapter the first hour it was released because of excitement lol, but it was only through rereading it the third time that day I had finally be able to organise my thoughts about it shsjs.

First of all, I am quite sad that we only got a scratch on our hand xD sure, i'm glad we're safe but come onnnn disney, the last chapter of Episode 5 had us fainting and stuff and I expect the worst to happen to us ehwhwj. though that scene where Ace and Deuce had come to us when we called them even though its thd middle of the night warmed my heart like OMG BESTEST FRIENDS EVER 😭😭😭😭👊

Cue Ace insisting we should treat our injuries first before asking what had happen made me adore him even more like wtf, man, you usually cause us trouble but at times like this (and that scene in Ep 4 where they rushed to the desert thinking were in trouble) had me fangirling over him 🗿🗿🗿💦

Anyway, I also didn't expect Crowley to call all Dorm Heads bc AZUL AZUL AZUL 😳😳😳 even though he called Grim a problem child uwu. And Leona was so funny that time too 😂😂 Ortho best boy in finding lost stuff, maybe I should ask him to locate my things later too /j

Probably my favourite part of the first Ep is Vil apologising to everyone. I mean, technically, no one in the VDC team had blamed him anyway, but he still owed up his mistakes. That's a big plus for me hshwhw that even though he was a prideful teen (which, let's admit, most teens have high pride nowadays and i'm gonna tell you i am one too ehjekw) but Vil just knows when to apologise and admit defeat. Irl, that takes up a lot of courage and character growth, especially to lower down your pride and I admire that about Vil. HE WAS A TRUE QUEEN 🙇‍♀️👑 (you forgot your crown on my back, your majesty ejshw)

BUUUUTTTT, THE ROBOTS MAN. I am very surprised the first time I've seen em crashing in ramshackle LIKE DUDE, OUR DORM JUST GOT RENOVATED AND YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO RAMSHACKLED IT AGAIN 😤😤😤 I hope Idia pay us for property damage bc honestly, if it was me, i'm gonna storm right in ignihyde and vigorously demand compensation for the damage his robots caused us sjsjw 🙄🙄💅

And yooow, those freaking charon robots(? Is that what they call it in english?? hwnw idk man) had kidnapped Vil and Jamil hwhwhwhw fuck it. Though, Vil and Kalim displaying their "leadership" had me go WOOOW bc that's the first time I've seen them take on full action and protect the first years djsjsksjw LIKE OMG SO COOL 😳😳💅

Riddle going "ugiiiii" after so many episodes brings back the memories of Ep 1 😂😂💦 I honestly missed the other dorms taking action, and THANK DISNEY, they all have had them appeared then and there (well, except jack rip) HSJAJAJ 😭😭👊 

Lilia and Malleus know what's happening (esp about the STYX) is prolly bc they're royalty and retainer? Cause Leona knows about it too and he quoted that "i had seen them roaming in the palace before" that prolly indicates that Leona had seen Overblot before, which brings me back to that particular scene in Ep 3 after Azul's OB when Leona asked us if "the furball has always been eating black stones all this time". Leona prolly knows what that is but doesn't have enough evidence to support his claim (similar to Crowley who, "apparently", never seen Blot stones) so he just dismissed it before.

AND HELP EJEDHSJW LEONA'S NEW POSE IS MAKING ME LAUGH HE LOOKS LIKE A CAT THAT'S BEEN JAILED LOL 😂😂😂 tho his smirking expression when he was raising his hands and that "pls handle me gently im delicate" vibe is making me cackle so hard 🤣🤣🤣👌👌 

Tho jokes aside, i like his character development here 🤔 like, we rarely see Leona (tbf, we RARELY saw him in his OWN episode sjwbw) so I was highly impressed at his development here. From him saving Ruggie from the falling glass, leaving Savanaclaw to him while he was gone, and to the fact that he was surrendering bc he knows that it was futile to struggle further dhejw. I mean, Leona here shows that he knows how to pick his own battles and calculate the situation, and him being careful with his actions and entrusting the welfare of Savanaclaw. For me, tbh, that's a plus for him. Because most people irl (obv not all!) just charging recklessly and mindlessly to battle despite knowing that they would lose the war djehs (the others doesn't include here bc they dont know who those robots are anyway and they are protecting their campus and fellow schoolmates so that's okay, i guess)

AZUL AZUL AZUL 🐙 i also like how he was about to stand up for his schoolmates too, esp to his underclassmen, since he was a leader uwu. And Idia being sus...tbh, I've suspected his family belongs to some group that does shady stuff (like the tweels and they had somehow that shady vibes) and I think most of my predictions had come true??? jwjwjw but fuck, I didnt expect their family is as rich as Kalim's lol. That's definitely a surprise.

I also laughed so hard when I read that "Leona let Riddle sleep on his lap for three hours" LIKE IT WAS SOFT??? EVEN THOUGH IT WAS BEGRUDGING AND LEONA WAS BEING GRUMPY AFTERWARDS MADE ME FEEL *AFFECTIONATE* qwq 

Anywhoooo, I'm not really into reading theories a lot xD so perhaps I haven't read lots of em that was circulating bc I have a memory of a goldfish shahab i'm gonna forget what is "canon" and "theory" at times sjsjwjw but if you want to talk to a particular theory with me, FEEL FREE TO HOP INTO MY INBOX OR DMS, whichever you prefer ehe. I always like talking to my followers and mutuals about our favourite boys ejshw.

And by the way, you need not to worry about that request 😘 if you want to resend that again, feel free to since my requests are open again! I won't definitely reject such a cute idea hahaha. 

And be sure to drink plenty of water and take care too, Rei-chan (can I call u that ehehe?). Hsjwjehe thank youu for wanting to hear my thoughts about this even though it's stupidly long hahaha😳😳 and thinking my writing is good enough lol.

[icharchivist]

Hi same nonny as usual haha! You asked for my thoughts on the spring troupe so now that I've finished the summer troupe debut I'm going to knock out two birds with one stone! I liked summer troupe a lot more then spring troupe. Not that I didn't like spring troupe! I just think that they didn't really communicate with each other?

The only reason why sakuyas issue with swordfighting was resolved was because masumi happened to be eavesdropping on a convo with the director, and why someone knew about itarus injury was because of citron noticing. I'm not saying there was no communication at all these two issues just. Bothered me so much the swordfighting one a lot more then the injury. The thing that bothers me about the injury is that itaru wasn't like. Told off for not telling anyone about his injury. Cause he could have seriously damaged his foot or something. I get that in the future there's probably going to be character development for itaru that lets him open up more to his troupemates. The swordfighting one just felt like a cop out to have a "moment" between sakuya and the director instead of having sakuya discuss that stuff with his troupe (which, bleh do not care for the characters flirting with the director at all. wish it wasn't there but I get why they do it.)

Despite my griping I did really enjoy spring troupe! They were fun! They just felt less trusting of each other then summer troupe at the end of day. And I get that char Dev will prob happen bout that but still haha. That's my thoughts on spring troupe! I could just be horribly misremembering the entire episode but oh well!

I know I said I'd also do summer troupe in this ask but it's already horribly long and I'm writing this on my phone. I'll get to that later. Thanks for reading my rambling that has not been proofread at all or edited. Hopefully it makes some sense hahaha. Thanks for introducing me to a3 it's tons of fun.

aaahh thanks for sharing!!!

honestly i kinda get where you’re coming from. I really love Spring, but it’s especially now in insight of their development. On first read, i think the thing especially was that the chapter was more about setting up some of the most major issues of the universe (the debts, the way  to arrange themselves in that new environment ect..) that therefore the characters issues may be not as focused as the others chapters?

(also for character flirting with MC there will be only 2 in main stories that do that a lot, one of which is Masumi, and the other isn’t much flirting as just hopelessly in love. Not much we can do about it but honestly once you move on from spring if this really holds you down, it will ease off at least, even if there’s a few thingss here and there stil)

Summer was the moment i really fell in love with the game, i really, really adore Summer’s dynamic and it was just. so good to go through.

As for the things you bring up about Spring, on one hand on first read i think i get you, but yeaaaah in insight of all we learn about the characters, it’s really not that far fetched ahah.

For Sakuya imo it’s really just that he freaked out because of his abandon issues and i don’t really see him discussing it with Spring yet at this point? Like. Sakuya is terrified of not being good enough and being abandoned as a result, like all of his relatives ever did. So he tries to compensate. When Masumi just brought up that they’ll just replace him, i don’t find it far fetched that Sakuya freaked out about it and failed to explain it to Masumi at the time. 

Those very same issues also lead Sakuya to hold on everything bad ever to himself. The reason he opens up to Izumi, more than her just coming to him there, is that she already proved before that she wasn’t willing to abandon him, if only by how she took up the theater because of his passion to start with. And, just, timingwise. 

And i think Sakuya wouldn’t have taken reassurances from his others troupesmates who have already made clear they believed in him, because i think Sakuya would be more crushed with the idea that they’re just being polite and kind with him. Because he knows he’s failing and the others’s way to reassure him would probably have made it worse. He needed reassurance 1) from the director who at this point has already started to be giving more constructive critisms, 2) Masumi, who’s the one who caused those insecurities by the fact he doesn’t hold back. But i don’t see him reach of to Masumi with how hostile Masumi has been to everyone up until that point. (i have more thoughts but that’d be me overreading it too but dKJFDLKF a3 makes my brain go brr)

As for Masumi, this kid has serious communication issues (only child with no friends and no parents around? oof) and i don’t think he would have reached out to Sakuya or even figured something was wrong otherwise.

Are those just easy way out for the writers? maybe, but that’s just how writing is isn’t it? if you want to make even some “artificial” conflict, you need to make it believable why this conflict exist even in the first place. 

Honestly the swordfighting issue doesn’t strike like that to me, and those are all about things that are shown in the Spring chapter itself, but i suppose since i also know those things are expended on, it does add a layer of “this was made with depth for their characters in mind” imo.

Also i think if Masumi hadn’t eardropped, Izumi would have talked to him about it, being the mediator and all of that, and i think Masumi would have understood then. I don’t think Masumi was unwilling to understand, but that he lacked the groundwork to understand it. and we mostly were spared from having to repeat the scene with Izumi telling him about it.

Idk if i see Sakuya managing to tell it to Masumi even after this talk? I think Sakuya is the kind to take all of his pain in silence and assume responsibilities for everything that goes wrong, and i don’t think he would have felt comfortable opening up with that, especially since, as he tells Izumi, he genuinely feels like *he’s* the failure about it (and as Izumi tells him, it’s not his fault if others people don’t try either. Sakuya was made to believe that he had to take full responsibility when a relationship doesn’t work because of his relatives, and i think he was set on doing the same with this Massu’s situation, and the reason he could share it with Izumi is because she’s not the person he’s taking responsibility for). On top of that, Sakuya remains Masumi’s elder, and Sakuya does want to be someone people rely on - he wants to be a big brother figure, and i think he wouldn’t have wanted or known how much of this responsibility he could share with Masumi knowing that. And i don’t think it’s healthy! but it’s perfectly understandable from Sakuya’s perspective and the specific way he shoulders responsibilities because i will fistfight his family his family sucked.

As for Itaru, on this one we only got the reveals about how deep this lack of trust Itaru had for people ran only recently, so imo early on you just need to take it at face value and hope when you get to know more, it’ll click. Realizing he doesn’t want to be alone anymore and wants to be more with Spring is a turning point from this set up about him, so he can only develop from here.

For why no one really told him off about it, i guess i can understand the grip ahah. imo i think everyone worried already enough that he was talking about leaving the company this was the priority to discuss and i do think talking about his ankle at that point may have not worked with the pacing of the emotional moment. I wouldn’t have minded seeing some of them being more worried about it in general though.

In the end the thing with Spring is that aside from Tsuzuru, they are all people who come from background where communication isn’t their forte. Sakuya fears he’s never good enough, Masumi never even had to face how lonely his life had made him until now (and i think he specifically lashes on the director because it’s the first time he feels like he wants a connection with anyone in his life and he doesn’t know what to do with it. I find his obsession creepy imo but i also see where it’s coming from), Itaru has severe trust issues and rather be solo in general, and Citron hides a lot about himself.

and i think, we have Tsuzuru has never been really alone ever, and he takes a lot of responsibility, (though there’s a few things about his background we learn later that shows he still has similar struggles than the rest of his troupe regarding some.. broken connection, which he vagues at in the Spring chapter (... which is something i only noticed on my reread knowing that so i wouldn’t blame you for not catching it))  but he’s also trying to do things for himself for once in his life. Ultimately he knows how to communicate more in general but he has that going on for him, and especially, i think his way to communicate or connect may be too foreign for the rest of the troupe for a smooth connection off the bat.

All of them are trying to connect in their own ways coming from those complicated feelings they have about connection imo... and i do find it fascinating. 

I see Spring a lot like, the kids who had to grow up too fast and the adults who are unhappy with where their adult lives have taken them and the expectations pushed upon them who yet are trying to cope on their own mostly because they have reasons to feel unsafe otherwise. (Tsuzuru is a bit in between imo bc he’s not “unsafe” yet and he’s already taking himself back in hands with the expectations things, but anyway, i am. trying to keep it short, believe it or not) And they’re still navigating where that leaves them as people, and where that leaves them in their connection with others, and especially with each other because in the end they’re all yearning to connect especially with one another, and just don’t know how to reconcile this desire with who they have been all this time to cope through all of this.

All of this is present in the Spring intro chapter but ^^” i could imagine that without having the full picture those aren’t things that may be easily picked up as important for their characterizations. But honestly there’s a throve of details in the writing to flesh them out when you know where to look and i find it fascinating. (but also i like. relived this chapter 5 times, 4 of which after i’ve seen most of their development, and my first read is so long ago i think i just overthink everything DLKJFDLKF and like, Spring was one of my least favorite at first read bc i struggled to connect with them, so it’s not like i don’t get you, it’s just. nowadays, spring is care spring is love and i cry over their intro chap a lot.)

Anyway i guess i get what you felt still, but, idk maybe i feel strongly about it ahah, i like the way the characters stand out from one another even in the moments that are probably just.. stupid, but in a “they wouldn’t know how to do better because of what’s holding them back” way.

i feel like “lack of communication” is a problem every troupe have to various degree and for different reasons, but the whole thing is about trying to figure out how to fix that and work it with them. Some are more forward than others (like, Summer, mostly because Tenma and Yuki are stubborn and loud and straightforward in their own way)(”than others” i have so much to say about this i’m holding back dLKFJD) but i think it depends also a lot on some thematic it wants to tackle and the spirit of the characters in each troupe. It changes as the story progresses but yeah after all, they are all strangers. And while the game mentions they have a few months to prepare for their play, it was reckoned that every play takes one month to prepare, so it doesn’t really give a lot of time on their first play to really figure out everything they need to work on.

Spring, in essence, as a season, is about blooming back after Winter, after sadness and hardship, and learning how to slowly open up again. So imo their intro chap have to reflect that slow progress for them. While Summer can afford to be more loud, straight to the point (and even there it’s not always easy), Summer is full of learning from their mistake, living in the Now, in the Moment. So their season thematic reflects a bit in their intro chap at least. (ofc they all grow from there though but that’s still interesting imo).

anyway i rambled LDFJDLKFJFDLK

I didn’t mean it in a way to say your reading is invalid though!! sorry if it feels that way, i’ve tried rewriting it a few times DLKFJDLFK i just have a lot of emotions about Spring and the points you mentioned made me think about some stuff about it. 

ANYWAY

if you want to share your thoughts about summer too and the rest you’re always welcomed o7 i’m glad you’re still enjoying your stay, and i hope you’ll keep enjoying the ride!

And Take care!

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CXX (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I’m learning to drive and the anxiety it gives me should be illegal why can’t we just apparate -Danny

Words: 2,883

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘Already Gone’ -by Sleeping At Last

Chapter Eighteen: Inside His Mind.

"Not that I'm complaining," She heard Fred's voice from where she was, her arms tightly wrapped around his middle. "But I thought you wanted to be discrete?"

"This is just a hug," Mel murmured. "I'm sad."

"I see that," Fred was reading through the list of materials for his new products. "You shouldn't be sad though, you got a place in the team, didn't you? We're hoping you'll make us proud, Ginny as well."

"Thank you," She said. "But that's not what worries me right now. I just heard that Flint's Grandad... he's gone."

Fred stopped reading.

"Really?"

"Yeah, he'd been ill for a while... Erick looked terrible."

"Well, that's how you look after you lose someone."

"I acted like an idiot," She groaned. "I just stood there..."

"For the best, if I'm honest," He continued. "Some people don't react well to hugs when they're in shock. What if someone had walked in on you hugging a Slytherin? That's bad for everyone involved."

"I'm her friend, to hell with the gossip..."

"I wasn't talking about the gossip," The boy replied. "He's been helping us a great deal by keeping the prefects of his house away from the D.A. I'm really sorry about his Grandad, he helped us to get a great deal for a little flat on Diagon Alley, but we have to be careful; if someone sees him acting too friendly with any of us that wouldn't help him, would it?"

"I guess not," Mel propped herself up and away from his chest. "I still think I could've done more."

Fred gave her a serious look.

"Your schedule is full all the time, you barely have time to sit and sulk on me!"

"That sounds terrible," Mel blushed.

"Well it's true, you only come to your dear boy-friend," He smirked, knowing how flustered Mel got, "to complain about how hard life is. I don't mind being a shoulder to cry on, but maybe you could compensate afterwards?"

"How?"

His smile widened.

"Get out," Mel slipped away from his grip, crossing her arms. "Leave before I hex you."

"Oh, c'mon!" Fred laughed. "Not even a good night kiss?"

"Fred!"

He laughed louder, standing up and lifting his hands in surrender, his notebook under one arm.

"Fine," He sighed. "I'm just saying, you'll miss me during the next weeks, you'll be all alone in Grimmauld Place and I'll be at the burrow..."

"I've created a monster," Mel groaned, feeling her face burning.

Twenty minutes later she was finishing her History of Magic essay, her eyes slowly giving up in the dim firelight. Ron was laying across the rug and Hermione was next to her, writing the longest letter ever to Krum. Harry was nowhere to be seen, but she didn't worry about it, if he were in danger she'd be able to feel it.

He came back eventually and sat down quietly in front of the girls.

"What kept you?" Ron asked.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Hermione glanced at him, noticing his silence.

He didn't answer, Mel lifted her gaze. Harry was pale.

"What's up?" Ron insisted, leaning on his elbow. "What's happened?"

Harry shook his head slightly, opened his mouth, then closed it again. He glanced at Mel nervously, and she was surprised when he immediately darted his eyes away, his hands closing into fists to avoid shaking.

"Is it Cho?" Hermione asked knowingly. "Did she corner you after the meeting?"

Mel had noticed the Ravenclaw staying behind, staring at Cedric's picture, but she didn't think much of it because her mind was already swirling, too busy to focus on the girl Harry had a crush on.

Ron let out a silly giggle.

"So — er — what did she want?" The boy asked.

"She —" Harry started, but when his eyes found Mel's again his voice faltered and he had to stop to clear his throat. "She — er —"

"Did you kiss?" asked Hermione bluntly, trying to finish with it as fast as possible for the sake of her friends' sanity.

Ron sat up and accidentally pushed his ink making a mess on the rug. None of them moved to fix it.

"Well?"

Those ten seconds felt like a lifetime. Harry stared at Ron, then at Hermione. When he gathered the courage to look at her, he frowned slightly, a short and silent nod making its way out.

"HA!"

Three second-years that were sitting near them jumped. Ron's laughter filled the room and for the first time in her life, Mel didn't follow. Harry was waiting for her reaction, which was weird considering she'd hidden away when Harry found out she'd kissed Fred. Didn't he know it was awful to ask for her opinion?

They had spent months in blissful secrecy, escaping to secluded places and holding hands, he couldn't lie to himself saying he'd never felt something for her. Yet he was, and she was doing the same thing. This whole thing felt like a joke, but she had to be fair and give him the same freedom he'd given her, no dirty looks, no insults.

Harry had every right to be with someone when they hadn't worked out. Even if she was bitter, at the end of the day she wasn't planning on giving up whatever she had with Fred, and who knew? Maybe Cho would be a better match for Harry.

"Glad to see she finally worked up the courage," Mel said lowly. "You should've seen the way she would stare at you during every meeting..."

Harry was too transparent when it came to his emotions, and at that moment, a little smile crept up his face as he looked down, clearly pleased.

"Well? How was it?" Ron's laughing fit finally stopped, and now he was looking at his best friend with eager eyes.

Harry's smile faltered and he frowned.

"Wet," He replied shortly.

Ron made a noise between a snort and a groan, Mel looked at Harry with mild confusion. Surely he had a better way to describe a kiss than just 'wet'?

"Because she was crying," Harry explained further.

"Oh," Ron said, then his face filled with pity. "Are you that bad at kissing?"

"Dunno," His expression changed, panicking. "Maybe I am..."

"No, you're not!" Mel blurted out.

"How do you know?" Ron asked her, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Because Cho spends half her time crying these days," said Hermione, saving her without noticing. "She does it at mealtimes, in the loos, all over the place."

"You'd think a bit of kissing would cheer her up," Ron joked.

"Ron," Hermione straightened in her place and took a deep breath, "you are the most insensitive wart I have ever had the misfortune to meet."

Mel snorted.

"What's that supposed to mean? What sort of person cries while someone's kissing them?" Ron argued.

"Yeah," said Harry, still worried. "Who does?"

Hermione looked at the boys with a sad little expression; then she looked at Mel waiting for her to say something. Mel merely shrugged.

"Don't you understand how Cho's feeling at the moment?" Hermione asked softly.

"No," said the boys.

Mel rolled her eyes. Hermione, who couldn't help herself, started to explain everything.

"Well, obviously, she's feeling very sad, because of Cedric dying. Then I expect she's feeling confused because she liked Cedric and now she likes Harry, and she can't work out who she likes best. Then she'll be feeling guilty, thinking it's an insult to Cedric's memory to be kissing Harry at all, and she'll be worrying about what everyone else might say about her if she starts going out with Harry. And she probably can't work out what her feelings toward Harry are anyway, because he was the one who was with Cedric when Cedric died, so that's all very mixed up and painful. Oh, and she's afraid she's going to be thrown off the Ravenclaw Quidditch team because she's been flying so badly."

"I can relate to that," Mel sighed. "Minus the flying, I mean, I managed to get in the team after all—" Hermione hushed her.

"How can you relate to that?" Ron asked in disbelief. "One person can't feel all that at once, they'd explode!"

"Just because you've got the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn't mean we all have," said Hermione sharply.

"That explains why you haven't been kissed, Ronnie," Mel teased.

"You've kissed my brother once, you can't talk!"

Mel had to bite her tongue so she wouldn't say she'd kissed someone else apart from Fred Weasley.

"She was the one who started it!" Harry exclaimed over their bickering. "I wouldn't've — she just sort of came at me — and next thing she's crying all over me — I didn't know what to do —"

"Don't blame you, mate," said Ron, shivers running up his spine.

"You just had to be nice to her," said Hermione, then she stopped writing once more and looked up. "You were, weren't you?"

"Well... I sort of — patted her on the back a bit."

"Dear Merlin..." Mel ran a hand over her face in embarrassment. "Why are you like this?"

"Well, I suppose it could have been worse," Hermione said with contained annoyance. "Are you going to see her again?"

"I'll have to, won't I? We've got D.A. meetings, haven't we?"

"You know what I mean."

Harry's face was a bunch of mixed emotions, she wondered if Ron was seeing what she was seeing, then maybe he'd be able to believe one could possibly feel many things at once.

"Oh well," said Hermione simply, "you'll have plenty of opportunities to ask her..."

"What if he doesn't want to ask her?" Ron said bravely.

"Don't be silly! Harry likes her, don't you, Harry?"

The boy glanced at Mel again and she pretended to be busy putting all her stuff inside her bag.

"Who're you writing the novel to anyway?" Ron asked, saving Harry the trouble of admitting something that could damage their thin bond even further.

"Viktor."

"Krum?"

"How many other Viktors do we know?"

Mel sat there in silence, a mix of second-hand embarrassment for Harry and something like a sharp, little sting in her chest that she was sure had to do with him as well. She thought about Erick and wondered if it was a good idea to plan a meeting for the next day so they could talk about all the things that were happening in such a short amount of time.

"Well, 'night," said Hermione as she finally finished her letter to Krum. "You're coming, Mel?"

"Yeah," She stood up.

Harry got up abruptly as well, Mel froze in place and stared at him.

"What?" She asked.

In the end, he picked up his own bag and nudged Ron's leg.

"Nothing— We're going too, right Ron?"

"Yup!" Ron stood up, his bag already on his shoulder.

"Okay..." Mel said, still feeling slightly uneasy about his behaviour. "See you..."

When it was just the two girls in the room, Hermione sneaked her way into her bed and sat down.

"I think it was nice of you to be kind to Harry, he was quite upset."

"It's not really my place to be rude, is it? I'm with Fred now... sort of."

"Yes, you are," Hermione said in a tone that sounded like she could tell Mel was having doubts. "And you're happy with him. There's no need to overthink it now."

"No," Mel sighed. "I feel bad for him though, their kiss wasn't ideal."

"Well, your first kiss wasn't perfect either," Hermione shrugged. "You simply threw yourself at Fred in front of everyone while he was in a temper..."

Mel's cheeks felt warm. She wanted to reply with 'That wasn't my first kiss.' But that would only provide a context Hermione did not need to know.

The girl laid on her bed and against her own will, thought about the very first night Harry had kissed her. Back then he looked like he knew what he was doing, but she couldn't blame him. Mel wasn't crying when they'd kissed. She was beaming with joy. For only a second, she felt happy that Harry could count that as his first.

Then a bitter voice that would come to her more often than not came to interrupt her thoughts.

'Well, he could've had more of those if only he hadn't tried to play the hero with you. He deserved that! He can't take you back whenever he pleases...'

No, he can't, Mel agreed.

At some point after falling asleep, Mel started to have a very strange dream. She felt her body on the bed, but the setting was slightly different, the light was coming from the wrong side of the room and she was wearing a different set of pyjamas.

A sharp pain shot up her forearm and cracked open her skull, or at least, that's how it felt. She let out a sharp cry, sitting up abruptly. When she opened her eyes she realized she was back on her bed, not only that, but she finally knew why the one in her dream had looked slightly different. It was the boys' room.

She got up, sweating profusely and feeling nausea. Luckily for her, her scream hadn't woken up her roommates, and she could leave the room without them noticing. When she reached the stairs she ran into Neville, who was looking really pale.

"Mel!" His eyes widened in relief. "You heard him? He's really ill..."

"What happened?"

"He–He woke up screaming and threw up..."

"Go get McGonagall," She urged him. "I'll take care in the meantime, go!"

Neville nodded and left, she walked into the room and the boys turned to look at her. Dean moved away so she could get to Harry.

"Harry, mate," Ron was saying, "you... you were just dreaming..."

"No!" He cleaned his face hastily, there was vomit on the floor, next to his bed. "It wasn't a dream... not an ordinary dream... I was there, I saw it... I did it..."

"He's talking nonsense since he woke up," Seamus told her. "He's saying Ron's dad was attacked."

Mel felt something cold run down her back. Harry gawked again and Ron jumped.

"Harry, you're not well," He said. "Neville's gone for help..."

"I'm fine!" Harry coughed, shaking uncontrollably. "There's nothing wrong with me, it's your dad you've got to worry about — we need to find out where he is — he's bleeding like mad — I was — it was a huge snake..."

"Move over," Mel said in a determined voice.

Ron hadn't noticed her until she spoke, he seemed relieved to have her there.

"Harry," She supported one leg on the mattress, trying not to step on the vomit. "What happened?"

"You have to believe me," He said hoarsely. "I swear it wasn't a dream— We have to—"

"I believe you," She said. "I can feel it, remember?"

Harry blinked, a worried expression on his face.

"Yes... I remember..."

"Good," She held his face firmly and stared into his eyes. "Now, show me what you saw."

"What?"

"Think about your dream," She explained. "I'll see it."

She wasn't an expert at Legilimancy yet, but now was the perfect time to make use of her hours studying the subject. Wouldn't hurt to try...

Harry nodded and stared back at her, his frown deepening as he tried to recall every little detail.

It was the strangest sensation, getting pulled into someone else's thoughts. She saw the dark hall, Mr Weasley's body covered in blood in a place that looked slightly familiar. The weirdest part of all was that Harry had seen it from the creature's point of view— What did he say it was? A snake..?

Mel blinked, stumbling away from Harry and feeling Dean and Seamus holding her so she wouldn't fall.

"Merlin, that was hard..."

"What did you do?"

"I saw... I read his mind," She said dryly.

"You what?"

"Don't go around telling this to other people!" She warned them. "I mean it, this is a secret!"

"Fine!" Ron exclaimed. "But what did you see?"

Before she could reply, Neville and McGonagall entered the room.

"What is it, Potter? Where does it hurt?"

"It's Ron's dad," Harry sat up again. "He's been attacked by a snake and it's serious, I saw it happen. Mel saw it!"

"What do you mean, you saw it happen?" Professor McGonagall frowned. "What do you mean Mel saw it?"

"I don't know... I was asleep and then I was there..."

"You mean you dreamed this?"

"No! I was having a dream at first about something completely different, something stupid... and then this interrupted it. It was real, I didn't imagine it, Mr Weasley was asleep on the floor and he was attacked by a gigantic snake, there was a load of blood, he collapsed, someone's got to find out where he is..."

"It's true," Mel added hurriedly. "It woke me up—  You... you know what that means, right?"

"I'm not lying, and I'm not mad!" Harry insisted. "I tell you, I saw it happen! Mel did something a second ago, she saw my thoughts!"

"I believe you, children," said Professor McGonagall. "Put on your dressing-gown, both of you. We're going to see the headmaster."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world​ @just-here-to-escape-from-reality​ @21bruhs

[monchikyun]

VIII. soulmates

“You wanna do it now… or?”

That has been his spontaneous plan in the first place, but when it’s about to come true, Connor starts hesitating. For some reason, he feels like he’s deceiving Gavin.

Maybe because he, as a matter of fact, is. The explanation he gave him was only a half-truth. A plausible excuse concealing his ulterior motives. For all he really wants is to belong to someone.  He wants to have a piece of Gavin etched inside of him for the times when he’s all alone and needs something tangible to bring him back from those bleak depths his mind likes to explore so. He needs a real proof of their mutual bond, so he can try and subdue his fear of abandonment.

It’s probably foolish, but he likes to think that they are bound together by their shared past. Gavin has been a vital part of his life for most of its span so-far, therefore it’s only natural that Connor would put so much importance on their relationship. But he hasn’t expected that one day he’ll hold desires which would go beyond what’s commonly acceptable between two friends. It seems to him almost sinful because he can’t give Gavin the things he’s most likely looking for. Connor’s not technically a man, barely a human being. Too damaged to hold much value anymore.

Even tonight, when his mind stopped working in the way it should and he had to be saved again, he wondered how the detective still keeps up with his ceaseless issues.

Connor can only blame himself for doing him such a disservice just because his heart has decided that this is the one missing piece to the puzzle of his cursed existence.

And he has promised himself to listen to his questionable rationale rather than what his tumultuous emotions tell him, but it’s getting more difficult by the minute. If only Gavin kept hating him, he wouldn’t be in this predicament then. Though it seems like his pretty friend is dealing with his own set of quandaries. His eyes are probing Connor like he’s trying to figure out the answer before he receives it, fingers restlessly tapping a furious rhythm on his knee. 

“If you don’t mind.”

He does a quick search for the right protocol that will allow them to proceed with this agreement. It will be like signing ownership papers, but with spoken words instead of pen and paper.

“Should I do something?” Connor loves seeing Gavin this flustered, it suits him much better than the frown he usually wears at work.

“Not really, just speak your name when I ask you to, I’ll do all the rest.”

“Didn’t think that deviants could still do that.“

“We’re pretty much the same as when we were before, it’s just that now we have almost unlimited control over the computer side of our being.”

“So I guess the human side is an unmanageable mess then.”

“You would know.”

Gavin laughs at that - Connor’s favourite sound that tempts him to join his friend and enjoy the moment for once, but he’s aware that just letting himself feel good would result in venturing further into forbidden territory. Even now he longs for some kind of physical connection. A small touch to alleviate the ache coursing through his high-strung body.

Soon.

“There. Now repeat after me: I, Gavin Reed, deem this android as my lawful property and will care for it in disrepair and fully-“

“Wait a phcking minute. There is no way I’m saying that.”

It seems Connor has gotten what he wanted out of that nonsense, so he secretly snaps a picture of his dearest blushing beauty and saves it among all the others he keeps for rainy days.

He gives Gavin a wide grin he has mastered over the year as compensation, so it’s a fair trade.

“Just your name is enough.”

He officially records his voice and scans his retinas so there is no doubt that he is owned by none other than the man who has rescued him from the hell of self-condemnation.

“Now I just need your fingerprint.” Connor opens his palm to him, letting the upper skin-layer disappear. An action that prompts him to interface with something,... someone. 

It’s not unfortunate that Gavin isn’t an android like him, but sometimes he wishes they were a bit more similar so they could communicate without having to struggle with words as they do on a regular basis.

“Press your thumb here.” Gavin looks captivated by the white plastic that shows who he really is, and the more Connor waits for him to do what he’s been asked, the more nervous he gets. It’s not like they didn’t hold hands before, so why does it still make him this self-conscious.

Maybe it’s because no organic human has ever touched his naked skin, not in any way. It’s not a big deal, but it still means something to him. He’s really grateful that Gavin gets to be the first.

A warm, calloused finger connects with his bare palm and Connor immediately closes his eyes, as if on instinct. He almost forgets to extract the print and assign it to the ownership file.

The sensation isn’t particularly pleasant, at least not more than when he wears his second skin, it’s just that he can’t believe that it’s actually done, that Gavin has indulged him with this whole impulsive process.

And now, he really has someone. Both in his heart and in his files. Of course, he has fragments of Gavin saved all over his system, but having an official link to the man is something else,… something special.

“Done.” He finally opens his eyes to see if the man next to him doesn’t regret getting involved in this.

But Gavin just studies him with an absent look, his eyes glossy like they’re about to dissolve and leak over.

“Thank you,” Connor whispers and starts putting his hand back to its default state.

“Don’t.” He’s never seen someone appear so fragile, so full of uncertain determination. “Can I?”

His trembling hand is getting closer to Connor’s, and oh yes, he has to at this point.

-

They sit next to each other in complete silence, hearts beating, fingers intertwined. No empty space is left between them in this precious moment.

“Hey, Con?”

“Hm?”

“Do you suppose androids have souls?”

“I’d like to think we do, yes.”

“...Will you be my mate then?”

Connor lowers his head on the most comfortable place in the world – also known as Gavin’s shoulder, and wills his tears away.

But when has he ever succeeded in controlling his feelings.

“Maybe I already am.”

And maybe he’s stupid enough to believe that as Gavin finally returns the gesture and lays his head on him, covering his soul in brilliant warmth.

@a-convin-new-year

[dumbwaystodeviate]

I just had this dumb thought of Connor dropping his coin and it falls into some place like the gap when the elevator opens in the hostage chapter or some sewer drain and Connor gets devastated like he and the coin had something special together

The coin was one of the few items in Connor’s possession that wasn’t attached to him. It was a calibration tool and also something to occupy idle processors. The other things not attached to him were his clothes but those rarely came off and only for maintenance or in the case of damage.

Really, it was only the coin that an outsider would look at and declare as something superfluous to an android at first glance. But that coin had been with Connor since he stepped off the production line. It had seen him through his trial in August, through the clusterfuck that was Startford Tower. No matter how many times he got destroyed, he always went back to his previous body for that one coin.

Said coin, which was now in his hand, flipping through the air and landing in his palm every 1.4 seconds. He was waiting for Hank who was ordering yet another burger and shake from Chicken Feed. There was a gust of wind and Connor adjusted his hand to compensate for the coin’s disrupted trajectory. Only, that was the moment Hank turned too and, as it tended to happen at times, Connor’s systems stuttered. The coin landed on his hand but not quite as expected. If Connor had been human, it could have wobbled a little and fallen flat into the meat of his palm. Alas, an android had a solid chassis and the coin bounced awkwardly off him, rolling to the ground and, before Connor had time to complete a preconstruction based off trajectory, his coin disappeared between the grates of a drain in a red flash.

The first emotion Connor ever felt was loss. He lurched towards the drain but it was too late. Kneeling and peering down he couldn’t see his coin and the unfairness of it burned through him brightly. He looked up at Hank with big eyes full of betrayal.

“My coin.” He absolutely sounded like a petulant child but Connor didn’t care. His coin, the thing he’d had since activation was gone.

Something about him must have softened Hank’s heart because gone was the laugh from the human’s face. Instead, his lips turned down in a sympathetic frown.

“We’ll get you another one. Maybe one that was minted the year you were activated. Make it a bit more personal. Until then-” He pulled his wallet out and emptied the coins onto the nearest table. “-choose one.”

Connor peered over the selection but none of them felt like his coin. He cast a glance to the drain again, sadness filling him. That coin was something special, he hoped that the next leg of its journey was as a good one, even if it was without him.

[bettertodayherbaldrop]

Better Today Herbal Drops - Read Price, Benefits, Reviews, Free Trial & Sales

Directing a satisfying life can be a fantasy for every person. But just a few men and women can manage to direct a stress-free living packed with joy. The majority of folks are undergoing different sorts of overall health ailments and wellness disorders. Better Today Herbal Drops could be the most straightforward type of berry plant infusion intended for those that prefer natural curing answers with curative added benefits. Better Today Herbal Drops may supply you with routine healing and also faster by a respite in chronic situations like high pain and stress.

It's outstanding hemp oil which employs the purest type of all-natural chemicals to advertise healthier and quicker recovery. It may work amazing things for individuals which are fighting with stress, pressure, sleeplessness, and persistent soreness. Consequently, if you're afflicted by one or more of these wellness requirements and also desire immediate relief, then afterward Better Today Herbal Drops can assist you. To recover enjoyment and advertise pure healing make sure you incorporate this oil into your ordinary regimen. It's perhaps not just powerful for continual soreness and recovery, but in addition soothes both neurological, physical, and psychological health of all users. Continue reading to find out more concerning the unbelievable berry oil.

The Unbelievable Inspection!

By the state internet site of daily Better Today Herbal Drops this could be the very best and most unbelievable tincture of berry plant that's rich curing positive aspects and curative added benefits. With routine utilization of this formulation, an individual can get these positive aspects.

Encourages calmness -- This can Force You to feel calm and relaxed

Minimize Stress Combats -- This activates both the favorable pressure reactions in your body and also boosts comfort

Reduce Headaches -- This Lessens the frequency and intensity of arthritis soreness and pain

Boost Cardiovascular Potential -- This enriches your endurance, concentrate, memory remember and endurance of One's mind

Lessen Persistent Illness -- This alleviates neck, joint back, and pain throughout the human Physique

Encourage Joint Health -- It hastens the joint and also Assists in enhancing flexibility and activity of both joints

Anti Oxidant Assist -- The formulation additionally reduces Completely Free radical damages also enriches immunity

In general, Better Today Herbal Drops encourages your health by boosting your cardiovascular wellness insurance and operation, even though permitting one to contribute a lifestyle that's pain-free and stress-free.

Active Functions of Better Today Herbal Drops

Before utilizing the formulation, you must know the lively workings of lifestyle CBD Oil. You want to understand that daily Better Today Herbal Drops could be your pure tincture of berry plant also it functions maximizing your emotional, neurological and physical health. The physiological works are ostensibly regulated with means of a platform named Endocannabinoid technique or even ECS. It modulates what out of discomfort reactions, sleeping patterns, consuming along with your emotional wellness. Therefore, the part of Better Today Herbal Drops will be always to modulate the ECS approach of the human own body to deal with wellness complications such as hypertension, obesity, sleeplessness, stress, persistent hypertension, and pain.

In any case, it additionally becomes absorbed in your blood fast to activate the favorable inflammatory reaction within your body, while still reducing pressure and continual ache you're straggling together with.

-Better Today Herbal Drops is accepted to decrease 98 percent of Strain and stress associated disorders

-The Health Supplement fosters 67 percent of cognitive functionality and also psychological health

-Additionally, it Enhances the Anti Oxidant aid by 43 percent

Natural Science Behind the Success of Better Today Herbal Drops!

Nicely, it's already obvious that Better Today Herbal Drops is powerful now as it's free of additives and addictive. It consists of absolute berry plant tincture from the kind of petroleum. As stated by the state asserts, the formulation is endorsed by 300mg of superior hemp extract. This can be the top CBD petroleum that's extracted from bark plants that are developed and grown from plants plus it costs nothing of harmful compounds and compounds such as THC.

The petroleum has been expressed out of pure berry plant leaves also it's full of cannabidiol. The extraction procedure is executed with CO2 extraction technological innovation at which the curative added benefits of the berry plant renders have been expressed, whereas departing supporting the THC compounds found from the leaves. Moreover, to produce it fully pure and highly effective, the petroleum expands triple filter technology in which THC chemical can be eliminated, whereas trying to keep the curative attributes of this hemp plant infusion. Thus, swallowing or employing the petroleum is wholly secure, and also you aren't expected to think too much about the unwanted impacts of the formulation brought on owing to THC.

As a result of its distinctive manufacturing procedure, it's now the very best-promoting hemp tincture which accompanies many curative attributes and curative added benefits.

Being Aware of the Procedure to Utilize Better Today Herbal Drops

If you're a brand new consumer of daily Better Today Herbal Drops, then you want to understand the most suitable means of working with the petroleum for greatest advantages. You can find only a few hints that you want to stay at heart to get optimal outcomes along with desirable outcomes together with Better Today Herbal Drops. Beneath is your step-by-step guide to use petroleum economically and attain excellent results with it.

-start little by little in Little Number -- it's very vital that you simply begin small because you must go a very long method. Be sure to begin away having a small quantity and assess whether its job is desirable. Gradually raise the frequency and amount afterward consulting with your Physician

-haul The Oil -- The first secret to good results response is always to put up the oil a few moments under your tongue just before swallowing it. This can assist one get faster and more efficient outcomes.

-Utilize it together with drinks -- Rather than swallowing the exact petroleum, you can blend it with your preferred drink to swallow it readily.

This can be the process the moment it concerns swallow the oil. However, while you have to employ it, you've got to follow along with different hints. You want to utilize the oil-affected aspects of one's entire body and massage in a circular movement in the order it becomes absorbed into the dermal layer of skin. This can show faster effects. Moreover, consulting your physician and employing the petroleum beneath their oversight is very essential.

 Experts & Cons!

Experts:

Total variety CBD petroleum

Lets You dwell a more slender and more lively life together with curative Added Benefits

Reduce stress, anxiety, chronic pain, Joint and migraines

Encourages Superior joint versatility and lubrications

aids in fighting Completely Free radicals and dependence

Triggers favorable inflammatory reactions

Encourages Superior comfort and endurance

Eases Continual pain throughout the human anatomy

Boosts psychological health, cognitive and emotion Well-being

Fixing the resistance and combats Completely Free radical compensation

Downsides:

maybe not Appropriate for girls Which Are pregnant or breast-feeding

Minors are limited by Your usages of Daily Better Today Herbal Drops

Consultation doctor Is Essential before utilizing this

accessibility of this petroleum since purchasers may simply Get It from the official website and also NOW Her

Contradiction along with different medication and have to be averted with it additional drugs and treatments.

Can There Be Any Side Effect of Better Today Herbal Drops

The intriguing thing concerning daily Better Today Herbal Drops is the fact that it is free of harmful compounds and compounds, hence it's recognized as completely secure. It's the most secure solution to beat from disagree jet well-being difficulties and disorders. It has several curative advantages with no harmful ingredients, so thus it's secure and also you may earn usage of it without even becoming quite high quality.

However, many could encounter adverse effects from your formulation following swallowing it at excessive doses. Thus, it's advised that you just stay clear of swallowing it too, and stick to the dosing guidelines attentively. As well as, employing the formulation below the oversight of the physician is vitally essential when you ought to stay away from the unwanted effects of overdosing.

The Benefits of Daily Better Today Herbal Drops

Better Today Herbal Drops could be your effective berry plant infusion also it's offered by reduction speed if purchased online from the official site. If you're fortunate then you definitely may also catch the risk-free course offer you of this formulation out of the official site. Besides, you can also obtain completely free delivery and handling supplies. The particulars of pricing are all accessible on the official internet site of the formulation.

Testimonies of Clients

-"I am leading a life that's free of stress and anxiety. I've already been using it for two weeks plus it helps me to conquer throat pain backache and migraines. I'd suggest you all use Better Today Herbal Drops."

-"I had been truly quite stressed about using Better Today Herbal Drops first, however, once I discovered that it's dependable by distinguished pros I began utilizing it. It's done wonders for my health and I'm free of pains and aches forever,"

-"daily Better Today Herbal Drops shipped me fantastic added benefits and encouraged me personally to overcome stress and serious soreness without even causing me to higher. This could be the formula also I'd propose all to use this to get relief from chronic problems."

Where You Should Get Daily Better Today Herbal Drops!

If you're thinking about where you should find the month-to-month source of Better Today Herbal Drops, then then you're proposed to stop by its official site and then get out the less costly prices and hazard completely free delivers. Thus, see its official website to receive your package of Better Today Herbal Drops now. 

Better Today Herbal Drops

https://sites.google.com/view/bettertodayherbaldropsbuy/

https://sites.google.com/view/creeksidepharmscbd/

https://sites.google.com/view/leafxcbdoilorder/

https://sites.google.com/view/eagle-hempcbdgummiesbuy/

https://sites.google.com/view/bettertodayherbaldrops/home

https://sites.google.com/view/bettertodayherbaldrop/home

https://www.emailmeform.com/builder/emf/Health/better-today-herbal-drops

https://biogoldcbd.blogspot.com/2021/05/better-today-herbal-drops-read-price.html

https://support.google.com/news/publisher-center/thread/108591602/better-today-herbal-drops?hl=en

https://scholar.google.com/citations?user=HHsA3loAAAAJ&hl=en

[grim-faux]

The Etiquette of Survival

This is the first four chapters of the book I’m working on. The book as a whole needs editing, but I’m searching for the write publisher company to query for submissions. These chapters would be the ambassador for the work I want to publish, but they need the most work at this point. Particularly chapter 03, which I’m not found of as material in later chapters has changed.

Salt and Feathers

Genre: grim dark

word count: 16,040  

  A Forensic Coroner is dragged into a world of political and supernatural elements, upon perceiving inconsistencies surrounding an influx of John and Jane Doe cadavers. Allegra Terrel must rely on the compliance of an inhuman supporter, and the deadly commissions he is assigned. If she hopes to achieve some semblance of normality, or survive at all, she must keep allies close and enemies closer.

   01.   A Cold Slab

 The noxious scent of formaldehyde coiled around the lumpy white coat, saturating anything and everything porous. It wasn’t a bad scent but it was off-putting, particularly after a few days without a full on shower and grinding off the layers of perspiration buildup. It wasn’t a disposition the staff devoted itself to; after the first few dozen bodies came through, people stopped caring about their appearance. The few exceptions in the scenario being meetings and the sort.

 The only reasonably slow period was the graveyard shift; the few hours that medical could catch up on the backlog of paperwork. The department sat square center of a large metropolitan, and there was no time of day when bodies weren’t being found or resurfaced by unsuspecting civilians. The winter months helped slow the inflow, though the dead didn’t roam.

 Allegra Terrel stepped off the elevators and officially began her shift. Traffic in the corridor shuffled at a tame trickle, some of the doors propped open and lazy conversation drifted through. Allegra nursed the chilled mug she carried; it was piping hot when she left home that evening. She took a corner and followed the hall past doors with nameplates. Only inventory had private rooms and locks.

 “Good evenin’, Harv-o,” she announced, upon entering through a set of doors. “Any word of the Rendell case?” She gave a courteous tilt of the mug towards the burley officer stationed by a howling microwave.

 At the sink and scrubbing out a weathered metal coffee pot, stood her square shouldered and delicate handed partner, Harvey. Without missing a beat, he swiped down a towel and dried off the pot. “Toxicology still hasn’t come back yet. We might need to send in a few more tissue samples – they’re sure there are anomalies in the blood work, but nothing conclusive. He could have eaten too much sesame or something.” 

 “That goes on the file, but doesn’t do much else,” Allegra mentioned. It had more to do with the agents assigned to the case than anything; investigators would know the details and plausible motives.

 It was the usual small talk in the lounge. Going over incoming and outgoing ‘patients’, same as the way accountants ran over the details of clients ruffled by imbalanced assets. A swing by the lounge was a usual certification to pick up partners or get directions to his or her whereabouts. Only veterans dared pick up a quick bite before diving into the work that didn’t involve filing papers.

 “I hope those aren’t my burritos in that nuke box.” A stout man ducked in from the door and raced across the room. He snapped the refrigerator open and cursed.

 “Evening Chuck.” Allegra caught the single serve box of cereal tossed by Harvey. She turned to the officer. “Theft is reserved among staff of the department. You know better.”

 “Well,” the cop began. The microwave buzzed. With a napkin in hand, he took out a small bowl. “There’s a guy on third floor selling the contraband. So technically, not theft.”

 “Uh-oh.” Allegra nudged Chuck aside. “Scalping overworked laborers with delicacies. How far has mankind fallen?”

 Though Homicide Studies was stationed above Victims Files, along with the records for the living members of the deceased; no one had any particular like for the Third Floor, above autopsy. Chuck was one of the few brave enough to march up there and demand answers, or compensation.

 “What’s the name of your provider?” Chuck turned on the cop. “I am done with this bullshit.”

 “Don’t get physical,” Harvey warned. He stood, staring daggers into the coffee pot situated on the heating plate. The warm scent filled the office. “He or she will spread unflattering rumors, and then you’ll be sorry.”

 The cop hesitantly gave a name to Chuck, and the man burst from the room. Harvey looked up in the wake of the departure. “Dang. I had some files he needed to run up.”

 “I’m sure he’ll survive.” Allegra munched at the soggy cereal, politely waiting for Harvey to get his cup of black fuel warmed to perfection. She dumped her cold swill and went for the fresh. Harvey poured for her. “What does the roster look like?”

 Harvey shrugged. “We have a body came in from a jobsite, construction. And another of those bodies way past expiration – Marx wants a detailed report on that.”

 “He’s taken an interest in those?” Allegra added sugar and stirred. She finished off her cereal and milk, and peered at Harvey. “He didn’t say it’s in connection with suspected serial murders?” The cop cleared his throat.

 “You’re wondering about the bodies coming in?” he posed. “A lot of Johns and Janes?”

 “Yeah,” Harvey answered, through a sip. “One or two bodies found in the advance stages of decay, not that unusual. But the cadaver boys, I was browsing their files and the inferences they were making… it was kind of creepy.”

 Allegra tossed the empty cereal carton and washed her hands. “I’ll go ahead and get set up. I expect a lot of condensing from you.”

 “You know it,” Harvey quipped. 

 Beneath Third Floor awaited Autopsy and Forensic Investigation, where bodies first went for cataloguing. The Homicide Department worked in stages, the dead didn’t complain so long as they were looked after in a reasonable time; some bodies took precedent over others due to suspected chemical components and cell termination. The deceased reserved their right to silence, regardless how painful or vivid their final moments were. Unlike a spiritual medium whom communicated with the spiritual consciousness of the departed, the homicide investigators took on more scientifically approved means to translate those final moments. Sometimes clarifying if the death was an unfortunate accident or the rampaging emotions, could take until the time the deceased was ‘taken home’ as it were, by the next of kin. From there, the body would be made ready for presentation and the final closure of loss.

 Stainless steel tables lined the glistening tile walls of the room; everything sparkled or shimmered in the fluorescent lights. The room was chilled to the point if the humidity was at an adequate level, the present warm bodies could’ve viewed their breath. The room reserved the calm passive of a library, but the sounds were not of flipping pages, the squeal of saws and crack of tools chirped off. At the far end of the room the soft conversations exchanged between autopsy directors and overseeing detectives; the few occupied tables kept undivided attention to their work, and soft murmurs swirled around death and causes.

 Allegra chauffeured a metal trolley to and from the assigned autopsy table, collecting the anticipated supplies and assembling her apparel. She attached the audio recording to her pocket and ran the wire to her ear, then, went to the employees shared closet and collected her slciker suit.

 Harvey slipped in as she was leaving. He handed over a clipboard. “I brought the body up.”

 “What about the cop?”

 Harvey was already pulling out his suit and pulling the boots on. “He didn’t have much to say – more about the location where the bodies were discovered. Oh! They did confirm inconsistencies in the extraction point, and the retrieved remains. We talked about that?”

 “Yeah.”

 “Remains were not fully retrieved. It’s bizarre.” Harvey zipped up and followed Allegra back to the table, and the black bag waiting for them. He pulled on his respirator.

 Allegra mirrored the action, and adjusted her hair bun between the straps. She read off a date and serial code from the page of the clipboard.

 “Klein, Harvey and Terrell, Allegra. About to begin preliminary examination of John-Doe-102.” Allegra glanced back at the table behind her, as a new group of investigators rolled up a gurney. “Estimated time of death mid-summer, the body is in moderate stage of decay.”

 Harvey slipped on gloves, and moved the portable table over to the counter connected to the wall. Meanwhile, Allegra took the base of the black bag and unzipped. Harvey departed for a few seconds, when he returned it was with a camera. The bag was fully open, and Harvey began snapping photographs – he took each stark white card and set it aside. Through the vaporous sounds of snaps, Allegra read off the standard physical descriptions of the cadaver; from skin tone and variation, to an estimated age. For the time, he was a John Doe. An unknown civilian, no identification, no ties. No one to offer a name or past.

 “Cause of death estimated to be exsanguination and trauma to the heart – the sternum is obliterated – noteworthy damage is visible to the thoracic region of the spinal column, the vertebra exposed.”

 The clothing – a pair of tattered pants – was already removed by the forensic team and labeled. Allegra described features of the face, and took out containers for the tissue samples. It was a tedious task of getting the tubes and inserting the arterial needle, and massaging blood samples out of the body.

 Harvey finished taking pictures, and began jotting down notes on a fresh page pinned to the clipboard. He examined fingers and checked hair. He frowned.

 “What?” Allegra didn’t look up.

 “Nothing,” Harvey mumbled. “Mm. Late summer? We didn’t have a lot of cold-cold days.”

 “True.”

 The initial work on incoming cadavers took roughly forty-five to an hour and a half, depending on the state of death. That didn’t include cleanup and cataloging supplies, or sending samples to toxicology. Beginning at one in the morning, it was drawing near pre-morning by the time Allegra and Harvey had cataloged three bodies. They were finishing work on a women submitted as a potential homicide, and were debating on quitting – Harvey could drive his wife to work if he hurried.

 A thump came from the table that the second group of detectives worked at. Allegra glanced up; caught Harvey’s line of sight and spun around. She clicked off the audio recorder. The other team of investigators flashed eyes to Harvey and Allegra, and to each other – it was two men and a women intern, she was taking personal notes.

 “What ran him over?” Allegra posed.

 “A chunk of rebar.” The lean guy, Tom, mentioned. He tapped the end of his pen to the gore soaked piece of metal protruding from the backside. “There’s also blood on the scalp, but this body is a mess.”

 “I’m not sure if we should advance with the autopsy.” The other man, Otto, added. “The atrophy wasn’t caught – it looks like this guy, with this stage of muscle regression – he was withheld from food. He was locked up someplace.”

 Allegra crossed her arms and leaned back. She checked a clock mounted on the wall. “But a struggle was evident in the body? Due to the head wound, and physical scarring.” She pointed out blotches down the spine and shoulders.

 “Yeah,” Otto piped. “Are you done for the evening?”

 Harvey yawned. “Were we? I guess?” He moved around the table and stood beside Allegra. His eyes tracked the body. With a gloved finger, he prodded the ribs. “This looks like some form of anoxia – water departs the cell through osmosis. But the surface epidermis doesn’t display tissue damage through malnutrition. Bizarre.”

 “Yet, the skin is supple, if not succumbing to usual rigor mortis,” Allegra noted. She raised the thin arm and, with some effort, moved the wrist. “Good luck with this, kids.”

 Tom laughed. “Thanks. Katelyn? Can you hand me the branch cutter?” The intern, Katelyn, reached to the counter and handed over the gleaming gardening tool.

 “I want to call Remus on this,” Otto mentioned. “Is that cool?”

 “Cool,” Tom replied, between crack-crack, and a Crunch.

 Allegra finished filling out the page on the clipboard, and without looking up, said, “The chest was punched through with that rebar. It reminded me of the collapsed ribcage of John-Doe one… o’two. That’s the one.”

 “The heart was practically removed,” Harvey added. He left for a short span of time, and when he returned it was with the temporary plastic cover for storage. “I’m sure it was in there somewhere. Melted.”

 “Ha.” Allegra folded up the woman’s legs, and Harvey folded the bag down.

 On return, Otto announced, “Remus said hold off on removing the rebar.

 “Oops,” Tom pouted. “A reason for making storage difficult?”

 “No. He wants to put the body away for now, and he’ll assign some ‘specialist’ to take a look at it. It might be related to an ongoing case.” Otto moved around the table. To Allegra and Harvey, he inquired, “You need a box?”

 “That would be super, thanks,” Harvey said. He worked with Allegra manipulating the woman’s body the remainder of the way into the bag. “We’ll need to sign on that jewelry. Thank you, my man.” He took the box from Otto and sorted away clothing and personal possessions.

 The two relocated the body to a gurney, and finished packing up and sterilizing equipment, the table included. A finalized form for what equipment was used and where, was filled out. Once all items were accounted for and protective suits stripped off, Allegra pushed the gurney towards the double doors. Harvey hurried ahead and moved the doors. It was a lull in the department; graveyard shift was on the change and a fraction of the department would cycle out with a fresh group.

 The corridor was quiet, most offices locked tight and the slit beneath the door in shadow. Allegra and Harvey made light talk on the way to the industrial lift.

 “I can take samples to toxicology,” she offered. “Jezebel will be getting off in an hour, huh?” 

 “Unless they wrangle her into overtime. Lord forbid if the head of department misses yoga.” He looked back up the hall. “I wonder if it’s something serious.”

 “Hmm?” Allegra pulled the lift in, while Harvey pushed. “You mean Remus? Guy’s cryptic.”

 Not every homicide submitted for investigation was given equal treatment. Many of the John and Jane Does that passed through, but never found their kinship, usually did pass due to natural causes – exposure, old age, or neglected illness. These unclaimed bodies went to incineration, and cases that were proven homicide were not always extensively investigated into, unless MO patterns appeared in frequency. Most common in the ring of shady cover ups, bodies were incinerated and the physical evidence remaining in storage, would gradually deplete until the deceased became a distant memory. A temporary and forgotten log in the department’s guest book.

 The elevator chimed and the wide doors wheezed open. The basement extended before them; air stale and musty, the floor a flat slate of cracked cement, painted and repainted over the years. A distinct and worn path evident through the colorful layers, led past a doorway and toward a fence left ajar down a short corridor.

 Allegra pushed the gurney, and Harvey guided the front out. 

 A uniformed man stepped out from the side doorway, clipboard in hand. He gave his wristwatch a check before passing the clipboard over. “Five thirty-four. This your first or last?”

 “Last,” Allegra answered. And signed her name.

 They pushed the body through the narrow corridor, among cinderblock barriers and chain fences, and mazes of heavy shelves stuffed with lonely boxes – the last effects of the departed. On passing a neglected chalkboard, Harvey took a marker and wrote ‘Ericka Liam’ on the cardboard box.

 “Do you plan to do a few more hours?” Harvey posed. He pulled a set of keys from his pocket and opened one of the fenced off passages. “I can do a coffee run, and get you a warm something.”

 “I don’t know yet.” Allegra pushed the gurney to the corridor end and waited. The freezer section was where the worn path led; rows and columns of stainless steel portals. Around the wall would be another section of cold doors, and beyond another corner, more doors yet. A mortuary of chilled nudists . She trembled; now out of the waterproofing suit she felt the chill of the old building. “Y’know, I won’t keep you. I’ll review my files and call it.” She maneuvered the gurney toward one of the column doors and opened the freezer. Harvey was busy filling out a notecard.

 It surprised Allegra when the trio from the neighboring table entered, with the gurney and cadaver. Well, Otto and Katelyn at least, which explained their abrupt appearance. 

 “Doors with a card are occupied. Usually,” Otto rambled off.

 “You should have told Remus how big that rebar was,” Allegra mentioned. She opened a door and pulled the slab out. Harvey assisted with raising the body to the sliding table; Eircka Liam was a depressingly thin woman. “Looking at them now, I don’t think it would have fit.”

 “Maybe we could have ‘Weekend at Berney’s’ it,” Otto huffed. “You shouldn’t have any trouble lifting this body, right? Hey? You okay, Katelyn?”

 Katelyn was staring at their plastic covering, suspicion in her eyes. Nonetheless, she nodded.

 Harvey shoved the slab into the freezer and shut the door. “Should I?” Katelyn backed away, and Harvey moved forward. Katelyn kept her eyes on the body, and followed its transfer to the slab. She jarred when Allegra touched her elbow.

 “You okay?” Allegra murmured. “Not cold feet.”

 “No. It’s nothing.” Katelyn shook her head. “The skin felt weird.”

 “Well, yeah,” Allegra answered, helplessly. The chilled slab clacked into the depths of the freezer and locked; the door hissed shut, and the room felt just a smidgen warmer.

 From within the narrow freezer Harvey’s voice lifted, but muffled, “Are you sure I can’t get you something?” The words exchanged faded, dwindling as the group departed; the rattle of the gurneys turn soft and somber.

 “Food or beverage?” Otto chimed in. 

 “Both. It depends,” Harvey offered. “But only if Allegra sends me forth. Chances are Jezzy’s going to send me off to do the same for her.”

 “Allegra….” Otto whined.

 Within the cramped space of the dark freeze, low humming trilled louder in the absence of trivial chat. The slab and its bag remain still, precise as that of a coffin buried deep within cold soil, impervious to the spiraling wind of time. Minutes evaporated, binding into hours.

 Frail shuffling, and scratching. A timid twitch – at the knuckles of the cadaver. The fingers scuffed at the interior of the bag, but relax. A moment of calm uncertainty pressed in.

 A guttural moan belched from the body as it buckled, knocking within the impassive walls of its tomb. The cadaver riled minutely and shuffled sideways; it pawed blindly at the pliant material of the sack. Quaking, but not in sporadic convulsions; the body curled up to the best of its ability – arms tucked close to its torso – and lay. Ribs expand tentatively; slow, careful breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Long, drawn out, deep breaths.

 The sticky plastic slithered over its shoulders as it continued trembling in the dark.

      02.   The Walls Wept Wetly

 Paperwork was never ending, and required the bulk of time and attention. There was organizing the cataloged information from the endless string of cadavers, and inputting the fine details – regardless how minute – as accurately as could be managed within time constraints. Coordinating meetings with detectives on tight schedules was also a priority, and signing out the bodies for reevaluation and study; a lot of back and forth and cross referencing with forensic specialists out in the field. 

 Cadavers needed strict one-on-one, like coma patients awaiting the hour of awakening. They relied on a chemical roster to maintain flesh and microbe levels, or risk losing valuable evidence. What went into the bodies was documented, and the alterations in the bodies microbial chemistry was carefully monitored. Despite refrigeration, the bodies did suffer some amount of degradation that could not be prevented. 

 At least they never complained.

 Allegra’s shift began at twelve midnight, and would roll into five AM, sometimes later depending on the time of year and the steady tip of populace sanity. Schedules were subject to change depending on the skills investigative teams held for forensics, and a body would be reserved. Much like the body Tom and Otto encountered.

 The commune office was segregated by ordinary, some of the walls were original and mounted oak with windows. In total there were nine individual desks, with three occupied and low lights peeling back the soft gloom; papers shuffled, faint music played somewhere.

 It was a strict paperwork day for Allegra. Check and certify the cadavers in her and Harvey’s care were ‘stable’, with no unforeseen anomalies in the surface epidermis. Harvey broke from his shift temporarily, which left Allegra on her own in the meantime and make headway on a mountain of paperwork.

 “Allegra,” Chuck spoke, in greeting. He darted into the shared cubicle space (Harvey had the desk behind her), folder in hand. “You haven’t by any chance seen where Hudson ducked off to?” Chuck dropped off a file and kept going.

 Allegra pushed her chair out from the desk and rubbed the screen glare from her eyes. It was about time for a break. “I saw him the day before?” Chuck came back by, and gave her a short look; he went to Harvey’s desk and began rummaging through stacks of files, muttering dates and months.

 An unexpected surge of warm days thawed out some of the city zones, and in effect brought attention to bodies that were missed across the city. It was a common issue – people go missing, bodies thaw out, people follow the stank out of morbid curiosity. Some people in the department placed bets based around local weather predictions; it was a banned trade, so of course the higher-ups didn’t care.

 “Someone on Third was certain he was resting in the second floor lounge,” Chuck added. “We haven’t had much luck raising him over comm.” He turned his attention to Harvey’s computer and punched in the passcode.

 “How long has he been off radar?” Allegra checked her wristwatch. “He didn’t run an errand home?”

 “I think he’s reliable about giving word before taking off.” Chuck navigated the mouse on the screen; across the room, the printer wheezed to life. “How’d the autopsy of Lingui go?”

 “Standard enough.” Allegra tossed another folder onto Harvey’s desk; which Chuck plucked up. “Sent blood to the labs and waiting for confirmation. It looks like he overdosed before drowning, but as far as any other details, I believe it’s the police’s business. It doesn’t look like foul play.”

 Allegra hated ODs; it was a pain to throw them through the system, and even if they panned out there was still the uncertainty. Bad emotions within friends and family made framing carelessly as a likely culprit, and too often investigators were good with that; a common story, which didn’t always end if the body was laid to rest. A couple of months back, the department had to get clearance to exhume a body in the middle of summer, and check if it matched another homicide with similar criteria to the victims untimely death. In short, she never felt certain that open and shut cases would stay that straight forward.

 “Leave his files open,” Allegra said, as Chuck moved aside. “I need to cross check notes. You take care.”

 With a farewell, Chuck was gone.

 The hours blazed by, as Allegra tackled the grueling task of tedious cross checking notes and summarizing the key details. It wasn’t as bad as it was initially when she was still interning; getting the gist of the trade. She plodded through cases that she had confirmed information compiled, and steadily moved through the documentation of ambiguous cases – muggings gone wrong, crimes of passion, and more. Harvey returned at length and they shared a late-early-dinner-breakfast-brunch, and he forced Allegra to have some proper food for once. While eating, he shared word that Remus was still focused on the other side of town with another incident.

 “Hopefully it has nothing to do with Tom’s absence,” Harvey hummed, while chewing crispy fish. “That was two days ago – he called in, but there was no return or update.”

 Allegra finished cleaning up her desk, and dumping the rubbish into the bin beneath her desk. “That’s odd. Chuck came through asking if anyone’s seen a Hudson. I wanted to tell him I don’t know the guy.”

 “I know him. He’ll sometimes take a mid-shift nap down on the second floor.” Harvey scrolled with his mouse, and without looking back, “Chuck needs to shut these files when he’s done. And not rename half of them.”

 Around three Harvey left to pick up his wife, and from there Allegra held down the fort. The homicide department never ceased momentum, but held its lull at predawn when people should be put away, rather than stumbling upon discarded victims of capitol crime. In the hour following Harvey’s departure, Allegra pushed through two more reports and called her shift solid.

 On her way out of the commune office, she brushed by Chuck. The other man almost ran into her; Allegra had to shove her work duffle aside to let him by.

 “Did you find Hudson?” Allegra managed, before Chuck got away.

 “Uh-huh. He’s okay.” Chuck held a far seeking expression in his eyes, similar to distraction and preoccupation. He opened his mouth to go on, but cut off and turned away. “I’ll see you.”

 “Take it easy,” Allegra insisted.  Chuck's curt breakaway didn't set well with her.  She lingered, watching his retreating back, before withdrawing herself.

 The corridor was lined with windows and occasionally a set of large doors, some open, with the same scene – cubicles, faint light, and subdued conversation. There was a corner, and then past a few more large doors and smaller offices; many shut up and dark. No matter where you went in the building, the scent of surgical plastic, formaldehyde, and alcohol was prevalent. Some offices, like Remus, used a healthy dose of incense and other fragrant aromas to counteract the subtle linger.

 Allegra made it to the corridors end and punched the lift button. It was when she climbed inside and hit the first floor, she heard it. A faint whimper. But not a whimper—

 She stuck her hand out knocked back the shutting doors. Allegra listened, eyes flashing to the hall extending to either side. One direction led to doors and a dead end, and the other way was much the same, but also the large industrial lift used to transport cadavers. The sound was akin to whining now; somber retching and choking. 

 Was that a child?

 It was eerie, and Allegra’s mind conjured up all the stories she heard back when she was interning; none of which rendered evidence of being true, aside from insistence that they were genuine first-hand account. Stories about the department being haunted, and employees hearing strange noises in the lull hours. Predawn.

 Allegra checked her watch. The hair on her neck stood and prickled. She knew she was hearing that, and it didn’t sound right.

 But she was curious too. She stepped from the lift and set her duffle bag of folders down. Which direction was it? She cupped a hand behind her ear and turned right, then left. Definitely coming from the direction of the second lift. Allegra left her duffle and crept down the corridor, passing empty rooms and the entrance to another corridor. It was odd, as she navigated down the hall, she thought the sob was fading.

 She stopped and waited, ears attuned to the direction of the echo. It wasn’t getting fainter, but it did pickup in pitch. That sounded like an infant.

 The creepy meter hiked up a few decibels. Allegra debated turning back, whatever this was it didn’t feel normal. But the logical side of her mind insisted this was a couple of interns, or veterans trying to spook interns.

 At a bend in the corridor, she came across one of the regulars – she didn’t know his name – but he wore a blatant expression of puzzlement and discomfort. Allegra waved him down, and whispered, “Do you hear that?”

 The man nodded, relief flooding his eyes. “I thought I was the only one. It’s creepy – the room I came from, no one seemed to hear it. I popped out to see if I could find it, and get a refill.” He waved a large plastic mug. “I think it’s coming from this way.”

 “I’ll keep moving down this way. In case. I’ll try and find you if I see anything.” Allegra tried not to smile as she left the man. Maybe it was a prank, and the room he came from was leading him on. That didn’t explain why she heard it all the way from the elevator.

 Rumors among spooky stories were not favored among the senior members of the department, though they weren’t barred entirely. People couldn’t help stand in the break room exchanging one baffling tale for another, while warming poorly concocted meals in the few available microwave boxes. Through, the week as of late was a heated debate on the strange incidents the graveyard shift was subject to. It brought her back to Tom, not making an appearance at work and none of his team able to connect with him.

 She knew someone mentioned something about singing, though she hadn’t been witness to her own experience. Sterinert with toxicology was a no nonsense bore and skeptic to any sneeze of mystic hogwash, but he wasn’t above admitting when an encounter with a shred of unexplained stumbled his way. His character wasn’t enamored by ghost stories, despite his practice to keep familiar with witness testimonies, and he did have something to say about the serenade.

 The usual argument got tossed about that the homicide department was cause for haunts, given that more than the bulk of residents were among the dead. If a death was traumatic the spirit couldn’t rest, which encouraged the talk. But this talk was disputed by free-range detectives who delved into every article of fact or fiction – fact being stranger than fiction – and insisted passionately that spirits gave not one two cents about their bodies, and only lingered at a site where violence encured. Rarely were cemeteries reported haunted, the topic proven time and time again by paranormal specialists; houses, homes, and unassuming locations became the locations of unfathomable mystery. Unassuming places hid terrible secrets and refused beyond realm of reason to let those secrets lie undisturbed. A fact of life that with enough digging and enough scientific application, the clandestine would shed its mask and reveal the truth of its character. Even Sterinert acknowledged that more often than not, what was believed to be undeniable truth hitting the brain could be a trick of the mind.

 Wires and electrical apparatus not properly insulated could induce paranoia, and various gases in small doses stirred vivid hallucinations indecipherable from actuality. The homicide department was ancient, and though some remote locations had undergone minor renovation work the overall complex remained outdated save for the technology ported in. By the power of suggestion and long-long hours, it was feasible to rationalize she and the regular succumbed to subconscious prompting.

 She stood at the entrance of a corridor, trying a new tactic by covering one ear and tilting her head. For added effort, she shut her eyes and focused on the direction. It wasn’t coming from her level or the pathways coursed through, the weep rippled from an overhead vent.

 Once assimilating that knowledge, she navigated the corridors seeking the gaping vents which projected the clearest resonance. This benefited her in no shape or way, since soon after the realization the shrill cut off. Abruptly and completely. She was certain to not have stumbled out of range, she crossed to and fro searching to relocate the sounds but failed..

 It was time to go and that was final. Where was her duffel bag?

 With footwork weaving within delicate – and invisible – a fog threads, she craft fully directed her poise back unto the route that delivered her. There was actually a shortcut through a hall that curved into the next bend, through a passive and partially ignored section of the departments equipment stores, where rooms sat neglected; trolleys loaded with spare computer terminals and other equipment huddled along the walls.

 At one point she thought the cries of the infant began once more, wheezing rasps and squeaks – it was a trial to hear over the heave of the heating unit. The musty air was a welcome distraction, despite how grief-stricken the wail came. She picked up the pace, nearly stumbling onto the shape huddled in a bleary doorway. It sent a jolt straight through her heart.

 “Jeesus!” She glared, vision swirling

 A mass of cloth rumpled and wadded lay partially in the path, yet as she peered down on the offensive scrubs in the low light she was uncertain, but it appeared to shroud a definite mass. Unorganized clusters of boxes obscured her view of the opened entry, and for whatever reason she was on high alert. Not that the heap was outward threatening, but the doors in this corridor stayed locked, no exceptions.

 It took some mental coaxing before she would creep closer, her limited vision prying at the gloom. She maxed her senses to their limits aching for a scuttle, or creak upon the prehistoric tile. Slanting far over the precarious juxtapose of ratty cloth, one hand groped within the portal for the anticipated switch. A burst of radiance sent her recoiling, and caused her to nearly vault backwards into a wall. Her poise was managed with dignity, allowing her the grace to give the inner room a scant examination.

 Globs of dust hung beneath the malformed light bar, descending from the ceiling boxes and discarded desk stood stacked wall-to-wall, among other miscellaneous junk rejected by upgrades. But no indication of space or shadow that anyone or anything could hide in, she scarcely imagined a pigeon would call this a home.

 The door to this room. It was shut when she first made a pass through the hallway. That, she was certain of. Only a handful of staff had spare keys to the rooms.

 She bowed down and took a fold of the cloth. The texture was scratchy and cheap, but luxurious to depleted residents of the department. One of the sheets from the lounge, third floor. It was far from home without a friend—

 The sheet felt warm, unnaturally so, with tinges of heat still radiating. A person… couldn’t be under this. No, it was not large enough, and not the right shape. But if felt warm.

 Without hesitation she tore the sheet back and gawked.

 Nothing was beneath. Not a hair, nor a thought. She stooped and patted the floor, her coroner instincts kicking into gear and searching for thermal evidence. The faux tile was cool against her skin and contrasted the vibrant sensation of the cloth still clutched in her hand. She flopped the sheet to her knees and prodded the fibers.

 Something clinked beside her knee. It took some searching, but she located the piece. The screw was still sweeping in odd little loops on the floor, scared out of hiding. She took up the minuscule hardware—

 Pain sizzled through her spine and brain, dazzling the black space behind her eyes with vibrant pops. Irregular sensations vibrated through the scattered grasp of awareness, and all at once she felt herself propelled deep into the subconscious parts of the brain reserved for absolute oblivion. She drowned in the tart scent of blood, and something else.

 Fragmented stabs of light pulsed across the black abyss of null. She winced and twisted away, her body caught up in tight, constraining texture. She lacked the energy to urge an movement from her limbs; she was heavy and buried under the fabric. All the bits and unaccounted pieces of her skin, muscle, and tendons ached like nothing definable. More accurately, her head hummed with each throb of her heartbeat. She dreamed about the black body bags that the cadavers lay in. The stiff, sleek material that barred off bruising, punctures, and kept the things inside from spilling loose. She threw out an arm and connected with a hard surface. Instant regret flooded her brain.

 She roused again. Sensed some amount of time passed; her environment was changed. She uncoiled slowly, allowing the twisting in her spine to shift accordingly in her body as she moved. The scent was familiar. Home. Her bed, her sheets, her pillows. She made it home. That was a plus.

 Her bedroom was dim. Through the blind’s gaps flittered a shallow gray sheen, and birds tweed and called in high pitch shrills. Allegra struggled her focus at her immediate surroundings, her vanity desk, and the dresser on the wall opposite to her door. The bedroom door was shut. She flung her arm over to the nightstand, and blinked at the acidic light of the digital alarm. Seven-thirty-nine. PM. When did she get in? She’d been out for hours.

 Moving out of bed was a grueling challenge. She slipped her legs over the bedside and sat, hunched over like a senior with chronic depression and scoliosis. She just couldn’t drag an ounce of energy back into her muscles; she was drained. She almost couldn’t stand. As she staggered to the door, she patted down her day-before-clothing. No keys.

 She lived in a charming little neighborhood, the bulk of its residence occupied by new families and singles; people that could afford a decent little economical home. A zone of strict no drama and no excitement what so ever. Despite this detail, Allegra wasn’t comforted by the idea she might’ve left her keys in the door lock.

 She inched to the coat rack beside the door and pulled on her house robe. The heater was thrumming through the vents above the door, but she felt cold; impossibly chilled to the core. She shuffled out into the corridor, hand trailing the wall. Three, five, seven – she counted her steps, shoes catching on the carpet. On the last step, before the yawning archway of her living room, she froze.

 It was obvious now that she was right on top of the opening, the sound spun on the warm churn of air within her home. Five steps back she might’ve heard it if she were more alert, but she was barely holding upright; the wall kept her from tipping dangerously. She listened by the wall edge, every nerve bristled.

 The stereo was on. A soft melody trickled by her ears, barely over the sound of her breathing. She held her breath and shuffled backwards.

 She never listened to the radio, not unless it was her sparse free days and she planned on mellowing out. She would remember turning it on; that she would remember.

 Allegra began backing up, nearly knocking into a desk beside the wall. She made it to her bedroom and eased the door shut. And clicked the lock.

 For the next ten minutes she sat on her bed, mind reeling. Someone was in her home. Maybe not one-hundred-percent certain, but she knew her half ‘sleep walking’ habits. She felt her pockets over one more time. She didn’t need her keys. She got up and checked her vanity desk.

 The phone was gone.

 One-Hundred-Percent certain now, someone was in her home. And they brought her here.

 No-no. That didn’t make sense.

 Allegra flicked on the accent lamp in the corner of her room. She carefully eased the closet door open, and pushed aside piles of outdated medical gear, tools of the trade, cardboard boxes, old laundry. She dug around until she located the combination lockbox. With a final confirming glance to her window, she sat with the box and put the code in. Inside the box among spare cash and bank statements, and other valuables, she pulled out a pistol. She shut the box and dug around in her spare shoes. Actually, it was a coat pocket where she found the ammo cartridge. Six rounds. She gave herself moment to recover from the tension, then, loaded the cartridge into the pistol.

 The thought she could be in error, and that she could be proceeding out to confront someone from her place of work, did cross her mind. But no one – she wasn’t that close to anyone – would have done this. She got her nerve under order before unlocking the bedroom and inching into the hall; shoulder pressed to the wall.

 The opposite end of the hall had a spare bedroom, door open. Tinted light trickled in under the slat gray. Her eyes were unaccustomed after absorbing the soft light from her room, but by the time she reached the archway that veered right, into her living area, she was better acclimated to the dreary haze. She stood by the doorway and listened; the song hummed on, faintly. No other sounds crept around, and that unnerved her. She wanted to detect something, know for certain if someone was there or where they could possibly be. The last thing she needed was getting spooked into killing another person. She dealt with enough corpses daily. Hourly.

 Allegra edged around the corner. She was stiff like a board; head a mess of pain and adrenalin. She didn’t want to be here; her own personal sanctuary of all places. She didn’t want to do this.

 The living area seemed much darker than the corridor, despite the large windows in the kitchen, and the patio doors to the side of the room behind the couch. Last traces of dusk glamor shimmered through a gap in the blinds, and hit the patch of tile. The living area was nestled in close with the kitchen, an open floor plan. The sides of the living area entertained built in shelves, filled with books, movies, a television, and other knickknacks. Her eyes first zoned in on the radio placed on the shelf there, but as expected, no one is there.

 At first she doesn’t see him, in her haste to give the room a second and third scan. Allegra checked the dining area in the further corner, its dark cloak, the looming maw of a doorway, and the general peripheral of the room. She completely bypassed over the couch situated in front of the sliding patio door.

 A deflated and haggard face stared up from a lumpy mess of coat and spare blankets; blankets Allegra kept in a hall closet. The eyes in the shrouded face stared back, unwavering. Allegra took a moment to react and fix the barrel of the pistol on the heap sunken into the couch.

 “Is that gun loaded?”

              03.   Walking Scandal

 “Is that gun loaded?”

 Allegra felt her knee tremble and the tendons give out. Smoothly, and with every ounce of willpower, she sidestepped and leaned on the edge of the bookcase. The gun remained fixed on the face poking out of the blanket pile.

 “It is.”

 “Please don’t shoot me,” the voice was soft, wary.

 Allegra wouldn’t let her resolve waver. She gave her immediate zone a quick glimpse, but kept a sharp ear on the figure. He appeared to be alone.

 “Answer me then. Who are you? I’ll think about what to do with you.” For a brief spell the intruder was silent; Allegra wondered if he was judging whether or not he could overtake her, and the weapon.

 “You collapsed,” he answered, finally. In his mediation he rubbed his fist at his cheek. “I brought you here. Sorry, maybe it would have been better to call a medic? You had a wallet on you, and I looked up your address. I wasn’t trying to rob you, nothing like that. I thought... you could have a condition, and it would be on an ID or driver’s license. I didn’t know what else to do. You wouldn’t wake up.”

 Allegra took a deep breath and let it out. Spots pricked in her peripheral, and her head went fuzzy. “No. No-no.” She blinked away the thickness; she needed to get back to bed. “That’s not true. I remember… you knocked me down. I hit my head.” A thin grin spread through the lips of that face – he must’ve been between twenty or thirty, but no more.

 “Well, true. I didn’t know how you would take that. All honesty, I was trying to get up.” He looked away, somewhat distant, his brows knitted tightly. Reflective. He kept silent.

 “That bump on your head,” he resumed. “You should be laying down. Resting.”

 The situation was… off. Of course, getting KOed and hauled back to your home was beyond the norm, but everything was spiraling beyond sanity and safety. Allegra skimmed through the series of events – up to before she was laid out – to really get a grip of where her 'situation' was. She disconnected from the bookshelf and moved toward the couch, eyes intently studying the intruder’s face. The light was poor and his hair was smatted and sticking to the side of his head. He watched as she came closer, and closer still.

 He looked familiar. Allegra couldn’t place where, but perhaps he had a familiar face – a general appearance easily mistaken or incorrectly recalled. It was too dark to define his complexion, and he squinted at her as if searching through a veil. His hair was—

 And in a flash the man rose in front of her, mound of blankets thrown backwards in a black eclipsing shadow; uncoiled all at once and enveloping. A hand shot out to her clutched fists; movement so fast Allegra’s muscles locked reflexively. A pulse of light balked off, momentarily blinding her, the noise splint the air and left her ears buzzing. But the gun was out of grasp, and the man – home invader – now held her wrists in one bone crushing grip.

 “Gun. Out of my face.” He released her promptly and curled down, wheezing as he hobbled back. Enough distance to fiddle with the weapon, without her springing into retaliation.

 But Allegra didn’t feel like springing. She dropped to one knee, and leaned on the couch cushions.

 “You strung out over nothing worry,” he replied. The intruder unloaded the pistol, and tossed it onto the seat beside Allegra; the ammo cartridge bounced off her elbow. “If you give yourself a chance to relax, you’ll recover better.” He moved from the couch, and stood near the kitchen entry.

 “It’s weird,” Allegra snapped, as she reloaded the pistol. “It’s like I get defensive—”

 “I’m not keeping you here,” he broke in. “Really, you can leave if you want. Though, no promise I’ll be here when you get back, should you want to bring some friends. But you’re not confined. If that's what you're on about.” He turned a little and looked out one of the large kitchen windows. “I’m recovering my bearings – that’s the truth. I planned to leave before you woke, but… you did suffer a mild concussion. I was worried.”

 Quietly and with marginal amount of restraint, Allegra prodded her faulty memory of what she could recall up to her fall, and to it factored in the man intruding in her home. A self-declared good Samaritan in her time of need. She recalled the unsettling sounds. Finding the body, or what she perceived to be a corpse left out – an elaborate prank. It wasn’t unheard of. But he wasn’t dead. What was he doing in the department? More importantly, how did he get out, and with her? Someone had to have seen.

 Someone had to. It was unfathomable to believe he slipped out of the department unseen. His story didn’t add up. He was hiding something. He invited her to doubt. That was it.

 She spoke her muddling to herself for the most part; deep concentration bore a heavy weight on her wounded memory. But he heard. The intruder peered at her, calculating something. That, too, was apparent. “What do you remember?” He scrubbed at his face, and looked at his hand. A beat came and went, the soft tunes rambled on in the background. 

 “Maybe, ah, talking about it will relieve your stress?” he posed.  The man didn’t as much as blink when the reloaded gun was turned back on him. “Or drinking something might? Warm milk and honey? Do you have tea?” He spun away and entered into the kitchen space.

 It helped Allegra’s nerves to have the gun, and have it on a target. “Did you go through my fridge?”

 “No. But you do eat, don’t you?” He stooped down, awkwardly; light swept up the ceiling and walls. Pause. “You do eat, don’t you?” He reappeared with a cartoon and uncapped it. A light sniff and the face twisted up in the dying shade of the fridge light.

 “I don’t do a lot of shopping.” Allegra let the gun go slack on the couch. She heard him rummage about; the fridge light pulsed and flashed as the figure pulled out containers and tossed them. “Busy schedule. Lots of days spent in the office. Food usually gets left and forgotten. Goes bad.” She felt at her wrist and checked her watch. “Can you at least get me a glass of water?” She heard more than observed his search. “Cabinet above the sink.” The doors clicked open and shut. Water trickled from the faucet. She looked up and watched as he filled the tall glass. He didn’t do anything with the cup; brought it straight to her like a normal person would. A normal person that hadn’t knocked her out and broke into her home. That was more normal than the fact that….

 “Set it on the floor.”

 He stopped a few feet from her. Click. Light felt its way up and down the walls, exploring the room fully from its source; the end table’s lamp. Allegra didn’t avert her eyes as she lowered her hand from the lamp; she kept that gun on point. Though she had a better view of his features, and his complexion; that nagging remained at the back of her head. She saw him somewhere, before encountering him in the corridor. But where?

 The man had indulged in a wardrobe change since she clonked out. He wore a puffy coat, basic enough as far as coats went, and dark slacks. A dark patch swelled on his left shoulder; he shifted his posture under her lingering stare. 

 Carefully, he set the glass on the carpet a yard from Allegra, and backed away. “Let me know if you need anything else,” he hummed. “My intuition tells me you know your kitchen better than I do.”

 Allegra took the glass and gulped down the tepid liquid, to the last drop. She didn’t realize how parched she was until the water hit her lips. With that little bit of fluid her head became a fraction clearer, but she still felt languid and muddled. She had a few more hours to rest before her shift began, but there wasn’t going to be anymore rest.

 And a strange man – who broke into the department – was in her home. She did not have plans to go to work and leave him all alone. She didn’t know exactly what to do; without a phone. If he did allow her to leave, then it would be in her best interest to seek help. No doubt he would leave, but she could offer a description; a lead and investigation was better than….

 Allegra checked her watch again. Eight already. “I have to get ready for work.” She tried to read the man’s expression on her confession. For the time, he was stationed in the kitchen staring out a window and oblivious to her. He didn’t budge. “My shift starts at nine.”

 “If it’s not too much trouble, can I stay here for a short time?”

 Allegra balanced herself, and watched the man. The window he gazed through overlooked the front lawn and a portion of the street. Allegra gave her person a pat down. “You didn’t do anything to me, did you? Aside from knock me out.” She raised the gun slightly when he glanced her way. 

 “Ew. No. I’m not that sort of… person. I searched you, for some identification, and carried you home.” He brushed his hand over his face. “That was the extent of the physical contact. Promise.”

 That felt like the first honest confession he had given since she confronted him. Allegra didn’t feel undressed and redressed, but the ache in her body. Her head flared with pain. Hydrocodone would take off the edge.

 Allegra knew there was no way she was going to rush and make it into the city for work, and she didn’t feel like confronting the squatter about the missing phone; no reason to raise alarm. Priority, she needed to get out. 

 Her shoulder and head were in absolute agony. Once Allegra was in the bathroom, she searched through the cabinet for her prescription medication and took that, along with two more glasses of water. She kept the pistol in sight on the toilet tank while cleaning up and dressing. One peculiarity she noted was the spare pillow case draped over the mirror, and held in place by staples. That was bizarre, but she was more discomforted by the idea he had used her sole only bathroom. She spent as little time as necessary within. 

 Once ready, she sought out the intruder. Same as when she sought him out before, he was curled up on the couch. This time she kept the pistol hidden in her pocket, but in a firm grip.

 “I need my keys.”

 The man raised his gaze from her presented palm, to her face. “The shelf beside the doorway.”

 “Are you going to be here when I return home?” she posed, withdrawing her hand. He shrugged and sank into the blankets.

 “No promises. I’m not on board with wrecking your place, staying here, or being more of a nuisance than I am.” He made a small effort to grin, thinly. It wasn’t disarming, it wasn’t ‘charming’, it was meek expression akin to someone trying to reassure them self, more than anyone else. “Do whatever suits you. But don't think about me. As far as this goes, I don’t exist.”

 Allegra frowned. She let the issue go, and moved – facing the man the whole time – to the open doorway that lead to the front of her home. True to word, the keys were left on the shelf beside the doorway. Her Range Rover was still in one piece, no visible scratches or unaccounted dings; it wasn’t a brand new car when she bought it, but she took care of it. She checked the back seats and the cluttered back; filled with boxes of papers and discarded files from work. Nothing suspicious. 

 A wave of relief rippled through Allegra when she opened the driver-side door, and slipped inside. Security. Touchdown. For a while she sat, ignoring the flutter of panic scolding her that she was late and needed to get a move on; she needed a second to herself.

 From the outside her home still looked normal and inviting. The windows dim; the unwanted occupant must’ve turned off the lamp on the end table; she usually kept a light one when she left for the graveyard shift. Small habits aside, her home looked typical, like all the other economical homes throughout the neighborhood. Only a few houses had lights on within the windows, and the soft, inviting glow of porches dotted the nightscape scenery.

 Allegra fired up the engine and backed out of the driveway. As the miles piled on between her and her home, she wondered if everything experienced was factual. It was surreal, impossible. There couldn’t be a dangerous assailant and intruder, housesitting her home. She didn’t just leave like any drab and boring old day, off to work as if everything wasn’t completely off.

She took deep breathes at each and every traffic light she stopped at. This could not be happening.

 But it was.

 No internal evidence was present within the environment of the department when she arrived in an hour’s time. The usual routine was in order, and the regular shift was up and about on errands. Aside from the vague accusation from security detail when she was traipsing through the first floors checkpoint, nothing was a red flag of breaking character.

 “You didn’t clock out last night,” the security woman grunted. She handed over the box of items passed through, once Allegra exited the metal detector ark.

 Allegra exhaled sharply, distracted. “Yeah. I was tired, I’ll be more careful. So sorry.” She got out of the way of the next person, while she stuffed her pockets. Security didn’t seem boosted. And somehow, that man got in and out without alerting anyone? Hard to believe.

 One detail worth alarm was the fact Harvey Klein was not at his desk working, nor at the second floor lounge on his prescripted break. This wasn’t incredible unusual; each homicide investigator had side-engagements to undertake during their shift, and it was easy to lose track of time. Harvey began hours before Allegra came in and could’ve been called away. 

 The apathetic drone and redundancy of the commune research office made Allegra question if what she witnessed within her home were real, or if she ever left work (was taken) in the first place. When she thought back on heading to the lift, and then hearing the strange calling; she doubted her own perception. She followed infant cries and was attacked. Or, hit her head as the man put it.

 A few hours in and no hair or hop of Harvey, and no one (not even Chuck) knew for certain if he had come in at his shift start. Allegra didn’t do more than bury herself in the looming assignments, churning through paperwork, and flat out working under the floodgates of anxiety. There did rise some murmurs, straight from Third. Allegra didn’t go out of the way to ask for specifics, but there was mention of an internal scandal; a matter of investigation. These insinuations left Allegra stunned, and apprehensive about Harvey’s wellbeing.

 When Allegra managed to pry herself away from work, somewhat nebulous, she decided to return to her vehicle and check the glove compartment. The pistol was there, locked away before she went in. It was a relief knowing it was in her possession, more than knowing she might've been lucid at the time. The medication for her headache wasn't that strong, but she wasn't beyond doubting it as an influencer as well. She sat in the Rover, debating on how to present her assault to the department – but did recall that there was no guarantee the man would be present at her home for capture. He wasn’t going to wait around for arrest.

 But he did admit he wanted to stay there. Safe. It wasn’t a guarantee, even if the effort was coordinated to catch him. He smuggled her out of the department. He was up to something.

 After a half hour debate over options, Allegra reentered homicide. On her way to the elevator, Harvey caught up to her in hall. “Oh god, Harv-o!” Allegra went for an immediate embrace. “Where have you been?”

 “Me?” Harvey gasped, expression dismal. “You didn’t hear them calling for you?” He gave her a long straight-on stare when Allegra backed up. “Are you feeling all right?”

 “Who? I stepped outside for some fresh air.” Allegra rubbed at her face, hoping to bruise some color back into her cheeks.

 Harvey gave her a floor and room number; Internal Affairs and Investigation. “That’s where I’ve been. Taking Q and A – no idea what it’s about, but there have been some incidents that have been smothered out. The day guard from B level? He was attacked – not recent either – this was a few days ago. You know, was it Adrian. Or Roger? I can’t remember— Anyway, someone drugged him. A totally separate branch from criminal investigation is popping downstairs, but they haven’t released details on what’s going on. Third floor is in a wild buzz.”

 Allegra didn’t try speaking. She was good with absorbing the timeframe alone, and piecing together the vague transcription of events. She filed her thoughts back into order; starting from when she boarded the lift on her shift-end. “Oh my god,” she stuttered, reaching up to her collar. “Was he— the guard? Was he all right?”

 “Yeah,” Harvey muttered. “They didn’t release word on what was taken, but Third insists it was a cadaver. To top it all off, Otto didn’t show up to work and no one’s been able to reach him. And you… I thought something happened to you. You didn’t sign out from your shift, and I couldn’t get out to wait out for you.” He pulled Allegra into a second hug.

 They pulled away and sidestepped as a gurney wheeled by, accompanied by a plain-cloths cop and one of the local hands. Allegra watched them, before turning to Harvey.

 “Do they know what time all this took place? I was very tired yesterday. I don’t remember— I must’ve forgotten to sign out.”

 Harvey nodded. “What time did you take off yesterday? This morning?” Harvey smirked. “The guard didn’t recall either – I don’t think. The matter thus far has been hush-hush – under no circumstance are we allowed to engage in the rumors spread.”

 “So everybody Third up knows?” Allegra raised her gaze to the microphone mounted in the upper corner of the hall. The message droned out with her identification serial, full name, and the pre-mentioned floor Harvey relayed earlier.

 Allegra didn’t have a lot of time to think about what she should say, or dwell on what the questioning could entail. She drew out the time from her departure with Harvey, to when she had to venture up three floors to Internal Affairs sector.

 An Investigation. The department that dealt with personal reports, altered or missing evidence, and other matters of interest which dealt with the threatened security of homicide study.

 A pause followed Allegra’s knock. She waited; hands pressed to the sides of her neck. She slept on her shoulder wrong and the muscle was tender, to the point a simple turn of the head agonized her. She wished now she brought the medicine. The side-effects included drowsiness, but with the way she felt now, the risks would be worth it; the pain refused to go ignored. She needed to wake up more. She needed a drink of something cool and smooth.

 “Go ahead and enter.”

 Allegra tried the knob. She pushed the door in, and found the cluttered office housed two extra occupants; one was a man in a suit, and the second was a scratchy appearing man in a dress vest.

 “Good evening, Dr. Leopold,” Allegra began. She addressed the man behind the oak desk, and did her best not to stare at the other two. In turn, the added occupants offered the same courtesy; the man in the dress vest sat in a chair that looked too small for him and flipped through a provided folder.

 “Agent Bunsen, and Director of Internal Affairs Kistler.” Leopold indicated first the scratchy man, then the man in the dress vest. “They’re here on reviewing questioning from members of the homicide department, namely those that had access to the basement in the recent week.” Leopold articulated exact dates and read the times off, and which homicide investigators entered the basement level. “You didn’t sign out when you left the night before.”

 “No, I didn’t,” Allegra admitted. She kept rolling the prospective Q and A back and forth in her head; above all else, what should she say. Her thoughts kept drifting back to the current occupant/assailant of her residence, and the pistol she had locked in the Rover.

 She should say something here and now.

 “I don’t recall leaving – my schedule has been loaded with paperwork,” Allegra uttered, instead. “My partner – Harvey Klein – he and I have been able to keep up with the incoming, but only by a hair.”

 “Are you feeling all right?” Allegra turned her eyes to the man in the too-small chair. Director Kistler. “You look ill.”

 Allegra managed a smile. “I’m completely peachy. That’s homicide and the Does – under staffed and overworked. We can’t exactly ask wrongful death to take a vacation.” Kistler left a lasting stare on her, before allowing his eyes to dip back into the folder.

 “Norvyn Dawud was on security the night before, at the main entrance. He didn’t see you leave,” Leopold clarified. “And none of the emergency exits appeared tampered with.” He held up a hand when Allegra opened her mouth. “I don’t believe you went above and beyond to simply sneak out after a full shift, but we take all evidence in order and work towards our conclusions. You are aware like most in the department, that a theft took place.”

 Allegra gulped, but maintained a straight face. “He did it. There was man that broke into the department, assaulted me, and slipped back out into the night.”

 “Am I a suspect?” she managed.

 Leepold hummed, and checked a page on his desk. “Not yet… there are inconsistencies with the estimated time this theft took place, the supplied recounts of the questioned staff, and also prints.” The lines in his face deepened. “We’ve managed to keep the items identity a secret. Above all else, we do factor in staffs track record and current psychological reports. The investigation is ongoing at this time, and information is sensitive.”

 Prints did catch Allegra’s ear. Fingerprints. Those found within the department would match those of the intruder. She opened her mouth, but hesitated.

 During the breather, Kistler spoke up. “You and Dr. Klein were working on preliminary analysis of Does brought in? Cadavers categorized among a distinct set of MOs that have been a recent appearance through the city?”

 Allegra nodded. She glanced Bunsen’s way – he watched her with dark ringed eyes. “At risk of repeating what Klein told you, can you give me a briefing?” She listened as Leopold offered a condense version, including the theories she and Harvey came up with while transporting the cadaver down for storage. She wondered if one of the cadavers she and Harvey had cataloged that day went missing – Leopold did refer to the missing item as having an identity. “Harvey made estimates on the month of death, based around an unusually warm fall. He may be right that it doesn’t quit line up given what we viewed.”

 “What did he figure with the body? Be specific,” Bunsen pressed. Allegra swung his way stiffly.

 “From our gathered intuition on rate of decomposition, the surface epidermis was intact as were sub dermal tissue.” Allegra considered more of the cadaver, and the notes gathered. “There was a noted lack of decay in major organs – those which are noted to break down fastest due to the higher percentages of percent bacterial pathogens – such as intestines and liver. The probable month of death was difficult to reach.”

 “Dr. Klein mentioned he and you had indirect contact with a cadaver you were not assigned to catalog,” Dr. Leopold interjected. He browsed over a stack of pages on his desk. “And you made observations. What did you think?”

 “Could you clarify?” Allegra was standing, and she rather sit for a bit. 

 “A John Doe-65.” Leopold peered at the files; sifting aside a monochrome photograph. “You spoke with the autopsy team, Tom and Otto – there was an intern assisting them.”

 Allegra plucked at her sleeve end, her mind rummaging through the brief exchange.  “I do believe I recall… murder weapon was a huge metal bar?” To her question, Leopold nodded. “The body was starved, but there was no other explicit evidence.” Allegra raised her shoulders. A light twinge bit at her neck. “Ah. But the cadaver that Tom and Otto were examining did have injuries not dissimilar to a John Doe Harvey and I examined earlier that evening. A fatal chest wound.”

 It wasn’t impossible to believe that the man who had stolen and delivered Allegra to her home, was also capable of working the incinerator in the basement – if his intent was to destroy evidence rather lift it. This certified one matter for Allegra; the man was skilled, or had an inside informant from the department. Someone that abetted to getting the task done; either destroy or theft the evidence. As Leopold put it, the incinerators were simple, old machines and easy to use, and determining if they were used at all and for what mediums would be difficult. If the man at Allegra’s home did have an accomplice, why did he attack and turn up at her home? To her, it sounded as if he was betrayed. Which would explain his ‘law low’ intents.

 “Sam, from the basement, was all right?” Allegra breathed, at length. “Not cuts or assault?” Leopold gave her a somewhat bewildered look.

 “Yes. He was given a strong narcotic, and no – no lasting harm done.” Leopold looked at Bunsen and Kistler, before readdressing Allegra. “Where did you leave the building from the night before? I need that detail for reference.”

 Allegra made up a story, along the way of formation questioned about who was on staff and where as she made her way along the usual route to leave the department. Leopold’s transcript of her disappearance was thus, apparently, no one had seen her head out from the entrance, but at one point her compact Rover was gone and they put two-and-two together. This factor annoyed Allegra more than it terrified. Literally abducted right out from under their noses, and no one more the wiser. She had even spoken to someone a few minutes up before her vanishing act; however, she didn’t recall his face or get a name.

 By the time they were done, Allegra was worn and ready to go home. She had two more hours on shift, and Harvey was waiting outside the room when finally emerged; drained and mind spinning webs. She heaved loose a sigh and crossed over to him.

 “We have two bodies to process,” Harvey chirped. “You should call in sick, and let me and Chuck deal with the paperwork. He can jot down notes.”

 “Tomorrow. I’ll take the next shift off,” Allegra assured. “Hmm. Harvey?”

 “Yeah?” He was exiting out the doorway and into the corridor, but stopped and gave her his attention.

 “Nevermind.” Allegra patted his shoulder and brushed by. “I think I can handle two dead people. Oh, would you by chance know? Files? I got the gist whoever came in was—” Allegra stopped herself. No one but her was aware of the man that infiltrated the department; the consensus was that someone in the department mishandled evidence. “Do you think Tom submitted the files for the John Doe his team was looking at?” That came from left field.

 “I’m not entirely certain.” Harvey matched her pace; his arms crossed. He mused, partly to himself, “Considering, Remus wanted the autopsy on that body postponed. They would have preliminary info filled out, some pictures. Uhh, why the interest? Was this something from Leopold?” They reached the hall end and Harvey punched the button on the lift panel. He bit his lip and hissed. 

 Allegra pondered over Harvey’s words briefly. “Yeah. Well. He did question about the cadaver the three were looking at.” Allegra gave the vital details over. “Seems like some conflicts of interests in the higher ups. Exciting.”

 “I did do some research into the more recent files,” Harvey began. “There’s not a big budget for Doe murder investigations, but I did find significant consistencies within the MOs. Would it even be worth the time to compile those files?” Harvey shook his head. He moved aside as passengers departed the lift, and then climbed in with the remaining staff leftover. “I’d thought about meshing the info and files we already have, and submit them to Remus. See what he thinks. He was supposed to be back today, but I haven’t heard if he’s gotten in yet. No word on what he’s been up to.”

 Allegra hit the number, and leaned onto the wall. “The way it sounds, he was miles away when the action went down. He might already be investigating those files.”

 Harvey nodded. “True. If that’s what’s going on.” 

 The lift elevated and dipped. Allegra snapped her eyes open, her thoughts a smidgen cleaner. “There was a guy here the other evening – early morning.” She described the individual she crossed paths with, while searching for the bizarre sounds. The eerie crying. “Have you seen someone like that?”

 Harvey looked over his shoulder at her. “Sounds like Rayan, a guy in forensic photography and printing.”

 “What floor is he on? Did he come in today?” Allegra punched the key on the panel. Harvey barked a confused sound right when the doors shut them off from the open corridor. There were curses and muffled language from the other side, but the lift was already descending. Allegra swayed and Harvey snared her before she toppled over. 

                   04.   Shackles of Conflict

 The entry Allegra typically used into her home was a side/backdoor, nestled in beside the extension of the garage port. She shut the door on the early gray of dawn and flicked the lock. Then listened.

 Her home was dark and still, aside from the continued roll of the stereo, she could gather no other distinct noise. She wondered if her abductor was still present, or if during her shift he decided to depart her home. He had threatened as much; Allegra suspected he would leave if he anticipated her bringing the whole investigative department onto her house.

 Allegra entered the door entry and flipped on the accent lamp, on the nearby shelf. She blinked against the flare. The room was prioritized for her utility tools, and lined with industrial shelves; the shelves were stacked with duct tape, weed killer, spraypaint, wire rolls, cabinet liner, and other essentials. The opposite door and home entry was shut, but she could detect nothing immediately beyond the panel. Allegra crept forward and eased the door open. As she emerged into the kitchen, she reached for the wall and clicked on the ceiling lights, the small bulbs gleamed across countertops the appliances. With the room illuminated, she studied beyond the kitchen and the living area with the lone couch. The blind slates at the sliding door swayed.

 Nothing.

 With a sigh, Allegra tread over to the vacant couch and sat down, on the far side away from the bundle of blankets. She stared at the messy heap. The blankets were still there. The radio was on, too.

 She shut her eyes and laid her head back. The angle she was trying to lay at strained her neck, forcing Allegra to scoot down and stretch out. She rested her head on the armrest and closed her eyes.

 A noise pried at her diluted senses. Allegra jarred and sat upright; arms tightly fitted over her chest. The light in the kitchen remained on. She searched her immediate range—

 The abductor rounded the corner and entered from the corridor. It looked as if he came from the spare room. He stopped and gave her a long suspicious stare.

 “I made an effort not to rouse you.” He crossed to the bookshelf. One hand scrubbed at his face, as if smoothing down stubble. Allegra suspected he decided on turning the radio off, but instead he picked up a mangled little sock on the shelf. “I did some work on cleaning – it appears you don’t have a lot of time for that, either.” For emphasis, he coughed into his raised fist. The hand that held the ratty little sock ran the clothing article over the bookshelf. “I’m shrewd with my work. I’ve done domestic type jobs in the past. Odd jobs. Handy-man type work.”

 Allegra explored the room over with her eyes, and could identify the glinting surface of the end tables, the carpet was lined and ruffled with vacuumed lines, the cabinets in the kitchen shimmered. Did the counters sparkle when she turned on the light?

 “Thank you,” Allegra said. Though she was almost certain she didn’t invite the home invasion. “You worked all evening? While I was out.”

 The man wheezed a bit. He sounded ill, almost. “I managed what I could. I could’ve... It’s the least I could do. I know you don’t want me here, and I’d rather be someplace more hospitable.”

 Allegra stood up from the couch, and made an effort to straighten her clothing. She wore basic slacks and a button up shirt, work brand fashion that looked nice. Typically she changed as soon as she got in, or showered at the department before leaving.

 “I need to pick up something to eat. Are you hungry?”

 The man sat on the floor beside a fake plant, which he glowered up at. “No.” A short beat followed. He shook his head and directed his gaze to Allegra. “Yes. You’re still not up to speed? Would you rather I go?” He patted his thigh. “I would buy, but I’ve misplaced my funds.”

 It didn’t appear he had much going in terms of funds, Allegra speculated, by look of his clothing. She said nothing; instead, she retrieved a notepad and pen from a drawer and delivered them to him. As she backed away, she placed her hand on the pocket which held the pistol.

 “I’ll pick up some cleaning supplies. You’re using a sock.” The man fidgeted.

 “Yaaaah. I’ve been on dust duty.”

 “Make a list of what else you need, and I’ll budget.” Allegra left him to the task, and wandered off to the bathroom. Despite the nap, she knew the prescription pills would still make her drowsy. She washed her hands and checked her watch. It was only five PM, and her following shift was canceled. Allegra passed a glance to the pinned cover, replaced, over the mirror. 

 “What did you do with my phone?” was the question, Allegra delivered upon returning to the living area.

 He looked up from the notepad. Quickly, he rose and moved up behind the couch. Tugging up the rumpled blankets he revealed the phone and all attachments, hidden, but intact. “I wasn’t about to cut your cord. You’d rightly panic and phone someone, if I didn’t have the chance to explain myself.”

 Allegra didn’t have much else to say, other than, “I appreciate that – disconnecting, rather than cutting.” It would’ve been one more errand and a fresh, unnecessary expense. She returned the phone to her bedroom and hooked it up. She made a mental note that he didn’t follow, or make further comment about the issue. That, or make comment regarding her return to the homicide department where he attacked abducted her; she wasn’t so sure which was more accurate.

 “You’re not at all worried I might call someone?” Allegra posed, upon her return to the living room. “The police, to be unoriginal? My work place.”

 He coughed somewhat, and his voice rattled as he began speaking. A second gruff-wheeze cleared the problem. “I’m guarded. You have every right to call someone, but if you do, I will quickly vacate the premises. Though you are capable, I don’t think you will.” He raised his gaze from the notepad. “But, you’re not exactly threatened by me. Are you?”

 Allegra thought about that. Really, she was unsettled by his presence. However, he had the opportunity to do her harm, or abandon her someplace. She reasoned this person needed her to resume her usual routine to avoid detection, from whoever he had concealed himself from. Someone from the departments; his inside source possibly; their alliance may have taken a dive south. It was foolish to let her guard down, but the impression he wasn’t dangerous forefront won her over. The goal right now was to bide time for answers, but he wouldn’t give them up. Spooking him off would be the complete opposite of helpful.

 “No,” she answered. “Is there a specific reason why you couldn’t break into someone else’s home? Clean for them?”

 “But we’ve become so close already.” He tore the sheet of paper from the notepad and extended his arm. His smirk broadened.

 “Are you trying to charm me?” Allegra snatched the paper away and backed up.

 “I take it’s not working.”

 “I take it you’re not in the tactical position to do that sort of charming.” Allegra put her hand in the pocket with the pistol. She skimmed over the list. “Do you have food allergies I should be aware of?” The man shook his head. “A name, then?”

 This caught the department infiltrator off-guard. He almost spoke, but stalled. “You’re spending a lot of time on a fake name,” Allegra encouraged.

 “John.”

 Allegra gave him her full attention. “Seriously?”

 “What’s wrong with John?”

 Allegra stopped there, but bore in mind it was genuinely the first thing in his subconscious he latched onto. John, or Not really John, broke into the basement level of the homicide and tampered/destroyed evidence. He must have seen one of the Doe possessions boxes….

 Shopping flew by, and Allegra struggled to focus as she drove between destinations and intermingled with rush-noon-lunch traffic. Her mind puzzled over what she was told, the withheld information Dr. Leopold must have been dodging around. The only way Not John could have gotten out of the station, with her unconscious body no less, was if he had an inside assistant. An accomplice to aid him, and who knew the department well enough to evade security. 

 Fast-food was her last stop, before returning to her neighborhood and home. Allegra took the time to eat and stayed out in the parking-lot among patrons and eyes, eating her one-forty-nine dinner and pondered her rash decision. Two people missing, one guard was attacked. It would’ve been safe to tell Leopold everything, surely. But John was wary of something as well; something to do with the stolen property of the basement. Perhaps Remus had something to do with the body. He was the only other person to know of it, beyond the department. But Remus was a Department Head and a strict guy when it came to protocol; it didn’t make sense.

 When Allegra made it into her home and stepped into the bright kitchen zone, she found the living space in the same state when she arrived earlier – plus some extra shine.

 A saucepan was left on the stove, the bottom filled with liquid and bubbles. Allegra frowned. She set the bags down on the counter-top, and listened. The stove was off, but still heated. The stereo was still humming tunes, but the rest of the home was typical and uninhabited.

 That’s what he was doing, Allegra decided. John was either hidden, or relocated to a position from where he could observe her arrival. He didn’t seem capable of overtly athletic movement, but that didn’t mean she was correct. He could have found a small task elsewhere to preoccupy his time.

 “I brought food,” Allegra announced. She went to the sink and washed her hands. Then, undertook the task of organizing the purchases; some were private acquisitions. She drank another glass of water as she tucked emptied bags away for later use. When Allegra shut a low cabinet and stood, she jumped at the noise of the patio door sliding open. The named John entered, and slipped the door shut.

 “The track needed some good hot water and dish soap,” he supplied.

 “You’ll have to show me around. A full house tour of a remastered disaster,” Allegra replied. She brought out the gear specifically requested, and set it out on the countertop bench. “You’re doing more than you need to.”

 “An apology for knocking you down. And out.” John pulled the edge of the coat sleeve over his palm. “I’m not happy about that.”

 Allegra nodded. She thought about Samuel, and his ‘incident’. “Did you have any business down in the basement?” John stooped to snatch up the sock he dropped. He moved in that same jittery, awkward measure. “Oh, I don’t know where you grabbed that getup. I went ahead and picked up something less offensive. I hope it fits… you’re not quite as tall as me, are you?”

 “T-thanks,” John stuttered. He gazed at Allegra, with a hint of indignity. “I’m not that short.”

 “You’re really petite. For a man. Nothing fancy.” Allegra swung the bag over to John. It sighed and deflated at his bare feet. “You know where the spare room is. You can get dressed.”

 John shook off the daze. He collected up the bag, and moved in on the counter-top cluttered with goods. “Later-later. I still have a bit to do, and I’ll save the new threads for when I get spruced up.” He looked through a few bottles, picked up a bundle of spare rags from the collection and ducked off. “I was in the middle of something when you came in.” His voice faded. He disappeared into the corridor.

 “Your foods going to get chilled!” Allegra howled. She winced. The pain medication was wearing off. At least it didn’t put her in a woozy depression the way it usually did. She finished unpacking, put some foods into the refrigerator, and moved out into the living area.

 Allegra kicked off her shoes and sank down on the couch. The blanket mound was gone; she didn’t dwell on its new occupancy. She rather settle in and keep an eye on the named John, as he ran back and forth. She could hear him sometimes in the next room, when he bumped a wall or… did something else. Otherwise, he went undetected.

 “You’re foods gotten cold,” she muttered, whenever he darted through. At one point, the John tossed the bag into the refrigerator.

 “I’ll heat it up later. It’ll be fine.”

 Allegra didn’t argue after that. She shut her eyes, but blinked back the sleep. Her eyelids sunk down once more. She saw John slow when passing her, and stop entirely. He watched. Allegra frowned at him, but something must’ve gone wrong.

 She struggled to turn over, before pushing herself up completely.

 Everything was dark. She pushed her hands through her sheets and flopped over, with a grunt. She reached out with her hand feeling through the ambiguous veil; she hit the low foot board of her bed. Cursing and grumbling, she flipped positions and reached out, only to recall she already requested the work-shift off.

 When did she make it to bed? Steadily, she wound through the events of the previous day. Food. John. Missing people. Cleaning. Not in that order. With a twinge of agitation, she concluded she nodded off. At least she was feeling leagues better than the day before, when she woke up from the fall. Still achy, but less lethargic, and more in tune with her surroundings. Even if she didn’t recognize she was upside down in bed.

 The pipes hummed through the home, whistling away the woes of the day’s grunge. He was still in her home. At least she knew where he was this time.

 Allegra pushed herself up in bed, still dressed in her clothing from the day before; her mid-length hair a tangled nest, short only prickly burrs to compliment the mess; the pistol burned a hole in her hip. She sat slouched sideways, waiting for her muscles to loosen and the dull pulse to fade. The water continued thrumming within the walls. She hit the digital clock. Late. She looked the way of the bedroom door, and imagined the corridor beyond it. Dark.

 “Are you going to be in there much longer?” Allegra barked. She rapped on the door with her knuckles. “Not John?” The warble in the pipes died off, abandoning to the timid whistle of water trickling from the faucet. “We need to talk.” And she debated taking more medicine, but was on the fence about affording some time to come off the affects. “I need an answer. Now.”

 “I need a towel,” the muffled reply came.

 “Cabinet by the door.” Allegra listened to the click of the latch, and rummaging. “Do you have your new clothing?”

 “Yeah.”

 “Did you eat?” Allegra looked to the kitchen, but couldn’t make out evidence of a disturbed refrigerator in the gloom. A low reply came at her backside. “I’ll make some coffee.” She tried the doorknob, and found the lock loose.

 A sharp snarl came from behind the door, and the handle snapped out of Allegra’s grip. “Do you mind!”

 “You should have locked it.” Allegra was shambling to the kitchen. She clicked on a few of the soft lights as she went. Within a few seconds, she had the filter in the brewer filled, and the water added in the tank. She left the brewer and stood beside the counter, which separated the living area from the kitchen. The bathroom door opened.

 Not John emerged. He clicked the light off at his back, the towel slung over his shoulders and head; he patted his face with the plush fabric. He was dressed in the new clothing; the collar of the shirt buttoned all the way up.

 “Are we still on moderately good terms?” he uttered. “Or should I hit the road?”

 “No. I need you to be straight with me.” Algera pressed her palms together and put her compressed hands before her lips. “You were at the homicide department, where I worked.” John went still and stared at her. “An item was stolen from the basement level – I don’t know the details. Some sort of incriminating evidence – it had something to do with a missing person, I think.”

 “A missing person?” John echoed.

 “Or found Doe, a John Doe. Right? Like the name you picked.” Allegra took a deep breath, and lowered her hands to the countertop. “I know you didn’t act alone. You worked with someone – someone that you’re hiding from right now, as we speak?”

 John said nothing. He clung to the towel draped over his shoulders, and stared off, at one of the dark kitchen windows.

 “I don’t know what’s going on,” Allegra admitted. Not John wouldn’t look at her. “But I see that you’re in some kind of trouble. Isn’t that right? My department can help you if—”

 “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” John made a face, then, brought his fist close to his mouth.

 “Listen,” Allegra resumed. “Two of my colleagues went missing. They made the files and cataloged a body – that must have something to do with it. Isn’t that why you’re hiding?”

 “Files?” This time, John snapped his attention directly to Allegra. “What files?”

 Allegra hesitated. She didn’t like that intense interest in his tone. “Basic identification of the body. Some photography and preliminary notes, minute observations. That’s what I’m saying – you had something to do with an item’s disappearance related to this cadaver, or the cadaver itself—”

 “You didn’t see the body?” He stepped a little closer, eyes slanted quizzically.

 “No, I didn’t.” Allegra straightened. The coffee maker wasn’t going. She flipped the switch, and got herself a glass of water. John denied and offered glass with a flick of his hand. “I didn’t get a good look at it.” After that, John directed his sight away, and nibbled on the end of the towel.

 Allegra got another glass of water, and began to rethink her assessments. John didn’t have anything to do with missing evidence? He seemed genuinely concerned about the attention the department was getting, though wholly unaware a crime was committed. This was making no sense.

 “I need to visit the morgue, and take the files.” Allegra snapped her head up to the response. John didn’t meet her gaze. He was completely out of it.

 “That would be impossible. Currently, the department is under strict investigation.” Something occurred to Allegra. “You didn’t have someone in the department, assisting you?”

 “Of course not.” John took a sharp breath.

 “But…” Allegra dithered. She searched John for answers, but he was silent, his eyes intently fixed on a kitchen window. “What were you doing in the basement? That was your initial purpose, to tamper – I mean, destroy evidence. What are you looking at?” 

 Allegra went to the window.  Close to the oily reflective surface, she caught sight of Not John as he booked it; presumably to the hall and a bedroom – a window. A few minutes of silence, and then a knock came to the entry door. She moved to the short corridor, extending from the living area and to the traditional front door. 

 “Hello?” She looked through the peephole, and snapped on the porchlight. A familiar face made the effort to smile back.

 “Remus?” Allegra gaped. She unlatched the door, and turned on the entry light. “It’s kind of late.”

 Remus was a square but sturdy young man, with untidy hair but a lot of passion for his people. He stepped up onto the threshold but held there momentarily.

 “You really need an answering machine.”

 “Did you try calling?” Allegra had one lone phone in all her household, and it was all the way in her bedroom.  Or she was asleep. “It’s late— But come in! Come in! Get out of the cold.” She shut the door, and motioned to the coat stand in an alcove of the hall.

 “Are you making coffee?”

 “Come have a cup, and warm up.” Allegra led the way back into the living area and kitchen. “I’m sorry the place is a mess.” She was about to go on, but instantly caught the perplexed stare Remus gave to the twilight atmosphere of the room.

 “A disaster site, I’m certain,” he mocked. “Allie, it could have waited, but I wanted to make sure you were holding up. How are you feeling?”

 Allegra sighed as she went through the cabinets; momentarily, she forgot where the mugs kept residence. “Better, after some fluids and rest. It must’ve been a twenty-four hour thing. You came all this way to check in on me? You could’ve sent some smoke signals.” Remus was silent. Allegra spun around, and spied Remus standing rigid. He held something in his hands – one of the bathroom towels lay on the floor.

 “Are you—”

 “That’s not my blood,” Allegra snapped. She stared at Remus. Remus caught on.

 And produced a relatively large pistol from under his coat. He dropped the towel, and watched Allegra intently. Allegra regained her composure, and tilted her head toward the archway across the room. She watched Remus inch his way toward the opening, the seasoned officer apparent in his sharp, controlled movements and stance. Like riding a bicycle. 

 Remus sided up to the wall and inched to the frame of the arch. He halted short of the portal and leaned carefully around the walls edge; the only sound on the air was the soft melody from the stereo. Allegra held her breath. The lethal end of the firearm peered into the corridor, and Remus followed briskly. The moment Remus was a fraction into the corridor a lamp crashed into his shoulder and pitched him sideways. A thick crack snapped off, buried under Remus’ shout.

 Allegra’s jaw dropped. That little snippet didn’t compare, to witnessing Not John fly across the open portal and out of sight. A snarled curse erupted from Remus, and the scuffle began; the walls boomed as the two clashed. An ungodly shriek leapt forth—

 A horrendous, inhuman sound Allegra would bet her soul came from the infiltrator of the homicide department.

[silveranjyil]

Doomed since Day 1

The finale of RWBY Volume 7 has finally pushed me to write SOMETHING.  It isn’t that there wasn’t anything before in the other volumes, but this volume unleashed a torrent of emotions that I can not even begin to touch on.  With Atlas left in the balance, and a raging debate about right or wrong, I felt now was the time to get this out of my head before in consumed me.

And the best place to start is with General James Ironwood, or resident Tinman with no heart.  I think he desperately needs a character analysis to really put his actions into perspective.  And I need to ramble, of course.

The first thing I want to do is really give an outline for his character type, and this has been obvious since he first showed up in Volume 2.  Even at this time, we get an obvious introduction to the unquestionable loyalty of Winter and his main soldiers.  More than that, we get a sneak peak at his superiority complex, and it only grows as time goes on.

Follow Orders.  It was the theme of this volume, but it was hinted at back in V2 and other interactions between him and his subordinates.  This is a huge red flag when RWBY and co come to him in Volume 7. Ironwood has surrounded himself with Yes men, people who only follow orders and never once question them.  It is a dynamic theme throughout this volume, about controlling and crushing down your emotions to follow orders--or manage your semblance? Winter started eluding to this back in V3, which really set the stage for her and future Atlas soldiers.

He is RIGHT. This is important.  He demands that his subordinates follow his orders without question because he thinks he is right and will always be right.  And he never once afforded Ozpin that same loyalty, trust, or authority.  Since day 1, he was constantly questioning Ozpin’s choices, even though HE was the subordinate to Ozpin.  He thought differently from Ozpin and could never accept Ozpin’s ways, nor listen to them.  He expected the council, Ozpin, and his soldiers to follow him without question and he truly, honestly believes he is right.  This is scary, especially when you compare him to Ozpin, but I will get to that in a moment.  The big point is that people who are so sure that they are right, even if they are dead wrong, are the scariest adversaries.  

What we have here is a narcissist with a superiority complex who can not accept that he is wrong. He was unbalanced since he came into the picture, and Ozpin knew it.  But here is where things get interesting.

Ironwood condemns Ozpin’s choices for keeping things secret and not sharing with the world everything.  And, yes, Ironwood does the EXACT same thing.  The difference here is in intention.  Ozpin’s purpose was to protect the people and ensure that as few people died as possible.  Ozpin’s choices were not based on control or the need to be RIGHT.  They were based on experience, a bit of fear, and concern for the people he needed to protect.  To Ozpin, sacrifice on a great scale was never an option.  He tried his best to make sure that the causalities were as limited as possible.  A difficult thing to do, given that hunters and huntresses were constantly fighting Grimm and such.  But  creating a mythos around the Maidens and eliminating Salem from history allowed him to save many many lives.  And I can guarantee that he attempted what Ironwood planned to do, at least on some levels, and met with staggering deaths.

Ironwood, however, is keeping secrets to keep control and out of fear.  He needs control, and he is frustrated that people do not agree with him automatically.  After the fall of Beacon, these traits became enhanced to an unbelievable level.  We see something else surface, though: Ironwood’s ability to manipulate people and be charismatic.  Ironwood is looking to survive: for himself.  He will, manipulate others and sacrifice millions of people’s lives to protect himself, though he clings to his mantra of “it’s for the greater good.”  It will become the sign on the wall of the slave labor he creates. “For the Greater Good”.

Back in V2 and V3, Ironwood showed his ability to be both charismatic and manipulative. His subtlety in his manipulation is a statement to his rise to power.  He puts himself into the position of a Father Figure to lure in the people he wants.  It worked with Winter and the Ace-Ops, which is why they are his right-hand yes men. During Dance Dance, he was praising Ruby and fueling her admiration for him.  Even when team RWBY came to Atlas, all his actions were calculated to manipulate the team into trusting him.  Unfortunately, his actions never really lined up with his words, which was why the team was on edge.  That is for another post ^_^

Another thing you can do to really get an idea for the type of person Ironwood is, is by looking back to the round table discussions orchestrated by Ozpin versus Ironwood.  Ozpin was constant in listening to his people, sometimes taking ideas from them, and allowed them to question him--even yell at him.  He was patient and understood what they were trying to say.  He demonstrated this Ironwood and Qrow the most.

You would never see that kind of discussion with Ironwood.  RWBY and co are new to the scene and it does throw him off.  You can tell he is trying not to pressure them too much because he knows they are not on his side yet. Hooking them up with the Ace-Corps and Winter was a move to help sway them more, a subtle kind of brainwashing tactic that never worked on RWBY.  Thank goodness!

If you think back to the things we have learned throughout the series, all the people we have met, you will find that all of Ironwood’s traits align better with Salem, Cinder, Jacques, and Adam.  All of them have this hunger for power and/or control, all of them are trying to protect themselves and increase their control.  All of them use a level of manipulation and none of them really cared about the damage it would do to others.  Ironwood might be a little better because, at first, it was something he kind of thought about.  Kind of. He had trouble relating to the idea that protecting more was better than protecting less, and it seems that he had been struggling to find his heart since the beginning.  I do think he has a chance to come around.

All this comes around to why his plan was not only a bastardized and twisted version of what Ozpin was trying to accomplish, but why it was a horrible plan to begin with.  Two words:

Volume 3.

Ironwood’s idea of telling the world about Salem is going to be the hair that broke the camel’s back for the world.  Take the Fall of Beacon and magnify it to a million times, happening all at once all over the world.  Okay, I will be a bit more fair: half that number, because there will be three groups of people after his big announcement.  Those that believe him and panic or immediately try to sign up for Salem’s army, those that don’t believe him, and the very small group of people that will stand by and fight the good fight.  And to those who would point out that people rallied upon his message to the people of Mantle and Atlas--they were already in the grip of madness as Grimm were breaking down the unmaintained walls and killing people.  People were in the grips of fear and panic ALREADY and thus clung to his encouraging words.  The people around the world are not in a panic-stricken moment.  They are peaceful and calm.  

Now, Atlas is a country with very strong military and technology, isolated and far away from all the other countries.  Despite the strong military, it is limited in number.  Who will decide what kingdoms and towns to save?  How will they decide it?  Well, history in our own world has outlined that pretty well. Ironwood, since he claimed martial law, would be the soul judge and jury on who to save and who not to.  And it wouldn’t be long in coming before he will need to demand some kind of “compensation” to continue that “protection.  Kind of like the mafia, gangs, and yakuza, etc have been doing for hundreds of years on this side of the screen.  He wants everyone to rely on Him and his military might. He wants to be the hero.  He wants to be a God.

And he will need people to make that happen.  The factories will be working night and day, little breaks, and the big sign of “For the Greater Good” in big bold letters hanging over the heads of the people who were not of high enough office to keep themselves out of the slave lines.  This isn’t some grand head canon, this is history.  He is setting himself up for this.  

Millions of people will die.  Only the elite few will sign up to get under the protective wing of Atlas.  The rest will stage a revolution to bring down the Iron Hand of Ironwood.  Divided so thoroughly that it will take centuries to bring them back together. Everything Ozpin has been slowly building up and working for will fall apart in the blink of an eye.

See, that is a big point.  It takes one small thing to divide people and make them fight amongst themselves.  It takes hundreds of years of careful planning, movement, and cooperation to bring the human race (and Faunus!) together.

Ozpin’s priority had always been the people, however, I think he was once in Ironwood’s shoes.  I am pretty sure he tried everything, including this, and saw it fail horribly. Ozpin has, after all, had centuries of experience in fighting Salem.  The delicacy of the human mind and heart are something he is well acquainted, and I think he already knew what type of person Ironwood was, or at least was becoming.  Near as I can tell, the big reason he kept Ironwood on was because Ironwood had the resources and technology he needed to keep his plan moving forward.

It was already stated in the show about how Ironwood would bastardize the idea of the floating city.  Using the concept to create a global communication that could be independent for each kingdom seems like a great idea, and on the surface it is.  It ignores the fact that only one kingdom would have full control and access over that system at its most important base: Atlas.  And how that would turn out was well simulated by Watts.

I could go on and on about this, but I want to leave it with one final quote that sums up why Ozpin was almost successful and why Ironwood fell so fast.

"It is necessary for a prince to have the people friendly, otherwise he has no security in adversity." (Niccolo Machiavelli)

Ozpin worked hard to maintain the peace and goodwill of the people.  Ironwood, so far, has not.  Definitely having robot sentries on every corner and forcing an embargo on a kingdom that can not easily generate its own resources, as well as hording those resources and preventing necessary repairs and aid to those people--those actions all show that he is not keeping this important aspect of ruler ship.

(random side note-- it is interesting that despite all the quotes from Machiavelli, everyone ignores the fact that he himself constantly harped on and on about keeping the people happy and on the side of the ruler rather than the Nobles. I felt this applicable because Ozpin did not really care about the council or their rules, he cared about the people. Ironwood, while not caring about the council, either, did not really show any care for the people.  You should definitely at least have ONE of those on your side, but Machiavelli would strongly encourage any ruler to have the people no your side moreso than the Nobles.  The Medici family, especially Cosmos, was his biggest example of why this worked.)

Enough about Ironwood, that poor, damned soul.  Love his character and how they did this.