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ichorizaki · 4 years ago

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monsters — i.h.

꒰ ❛ genre ❜ ꒱ — fluff ; college!au

꒰ ❛ pairing ❜ ꒱ — senior!iwaizumi hajime x senior!gn!reader

꒰ ❛ warnings ❜ ꒱ — teeth-rotting fluff, curse words

꒰ ❛ word count ❜ ꒱ — 2.6k

˚ ༘ˀˀ ꒰‧⁺ a text from sol — ✎ˀ i got inspired upon reading a text post reposted onto pinterest, so enjoy some domestic iwa-chan! i’m considering opening up a taglist too but i’m not too confident.... huhu

-`,✎ synopsis! ; ♡ throughout his entire life, iwaizumi hajime has been fighting all sorts of monsters. he’s just thankful that you were there by his side the whole time with your unwavering support and uplifting words of kindness. this time however, you defeated the biggest monster that he’s faced yet with just one word.

Iwaizumi Hajime could remember one of the first few times he felt fear. It was one of the hottest days of summer with the sun high and mighty in the sky, sometime about two decades ago when he was still young and the world seemed so huge compared to him. He and Oikawa were playing in his yard, a volleyball that fit snugly into a child’s hands being thrown back and forth. He remembered Oikawa being terrible enough to serve the ball too far and it went into the small nest of trees just beyond the brick fence barricading his house.

It was stark as day—the heavy, accelerated thump, thump, thumping of his unsteady heart, the tremor of his tiny hands, the quiver of his bottom lip, and the clear tears turning his vision into a terrifying blend of summer colours. He remembered how the fear slithered from his feet to his shoulders, taunting and whispering untrue threats and poisonous anxieties into his ears as he tried to help an equally distressed Oikawa stand. The first fear; the first monster that took form in his small body.

He had abrasions on his knees and elbows, dirt and emerald leaves stuck in his messy brown locks as tears streamed down his face. Oikawa had fallen down from the tree he climbed to inspect a long forgotten kite while trying to get the volleyball that he served into a tree.

“You’re lucky that you didn’t suffer too badly, Toorū,” his mother chided gently. She had always been patient and gentle with them, fixing any wounds be it physical or emotional. “Now, now, Hajime, Toorū will be okay.” The smile that blossomed on her face was like a healing flower, spreading warmth through his body like sunshine as she kissed them both on their temples slick with summer sweat.

For a while, it was just him and Oikawa, fighting their onslaught of tiny gremlins of fears as they grew. The gremlins grew with every fear they overcame, and eventually developed into a monster that lurked in the background wherever they went. Creeping, waiting, watching in the shadows. Iwaizumi remembered his first monster like it was just yesterday: the dark.

It was his first sleepover that wasn’t just him and Oikawa. The new person was you, L/N Y/N, their shy second grade classmate. Oikawa was eager to have you join them, wanting you to be comfortable and never left out. That was your first mini monster—the shyness of a lurking child who was too afraid to show the world who they were—and thanks to Oikawa’s lovely hospitality and friendliness, you managed to defeat it without lifting a finger.

Iwaizumi never forgot the monster he faced that night, because you were there with your stunning smile.

Everything in the Oikawa household was still, tendrils darkness slithering their way from the deepest, darkest corners and trapping the house under its nighttime curse. Iwaizumi didn’t know what time it was, but everyone was asleep. He wanted to go to the toilet, but his childhood was peacefully sleeping as he held on to his bunny plushie.

That was when you had stirred awake. You were bleary-eyed, half-awoken from his broken whimpers of frustration. You rose from the futon you were given, curious as to why your new friend was awake in the middle of the night.

“Iwaizumi-kun?” Your voice was soft and gentle; a blanket of comfort wrapping around his shoulders as he looked over at you. “What’s wrong? You can tell me.” Maybe it was the way you phrased your words, how they eloquently became mini candlelights in his heart, or maybe it was the way you had immediately gotten up from your futon and waddled over to sit in front of him, clutching onto your comfort teddy bear, because he found himself spilling his concerns to you.

“I . . . I want to go to the toilet but it’s dark and scary outside.”

Oh, but the smile that you gave him was blinding.

“My grandma taught me this trick: if you’re scared of monsters in the dark, make louder, weirder noises to scare them off!” His mossy eyes glimmered in the pale moonlight with excitement of this newfound knowledge. “I can hold your hand and follow you. I need to go to the toilet, too.” The sheepish grin on your face was one he would always keep close to his heart, and he was glad that it never changed even when you grew.

As you held onto his hand, you held onto the vow that you made. You could tell how scared he was with the heavy, hesitant steps that he took and how sweaty his palms had grown. You were also scared, but you couldn’t show that to your new friend! You had to be brave, and brave you were as you took the lead in screaming high-pitched, garbled nonsense into the dark corridors. Eventually, he joined in as you both raced down the stairs, giggles bubbling from your lips as you made your way to the toilet near the kitchen.

You heard footsteps when you were finishing up in the toilet. You didn’t want Iwaizumi to be scared so you quickly washed your hands and threw open the door to find Oikawa’s parents looking incredibly concerned. With a proud grin, you told them what you did and they looked at each other with a smile you could never quite describe before bending down to your heights.

“Well, that’s brave of you, L/N-chan,” his mother praised. You sported a grin that boasted pride. “C’mon, let’s get you two back to bed, shall we?” Iwaizumi took your hand in his as he held Oikawa’s dad’s in the other.

“You don’t have to be scared anymore, Iwaizumi-kun,” you promised. “I’m here and I’ll always be here for you.”

Not once had you let go of that promise. Not even when the both of you got into fights that threatened the life of your friendship, or when someone’s heart broke little by little as the other held hands with someone else with a smile that they wished they could be the cause of. You were stubborn and so was he, and sometimes it felt like both of your obstinacy was the saving line. Rain or shine, come hell or high water, you were there for him and he was there for you.

The fears—these monsters that came in all forms and sizes—kept coming at him. Not only did they hurt him, but they had also hurt you and Oikawa, and he had always placed the blame on himself even when the both of you told him not to.

University life is hard. He had to juggle part time work and studies, and he barely had time to himself, let alone with you. The rare days that he gets to press pause on everything and lay in bed with you, his significant other of two years, he cherishes them.

“Y/N,” his gruff voice called out for you. You turned around and his bulking tanned arms trapped your figure in his warm embrace. His face was inches away from your as you lay there chest-to-chest. He could never get tired of staring at your face. From the dips and curves of your facial structure to the way your stunning eyes glow no matter what, he could never get enough.

The pillows of your soft lips pressed against his and he found himself chasing your lips for a longer kiss as you pulled away with a gentle chuckle. It pulled him out of his reverie, a small smile playing on his lips as his fingers reached up to push your hair away from your face. The late afternoon sun was warm against his skin and yours but the air conditioning soothed the warmth like a gulp of freshly iced water.

“Remember when I asked you to be my significant other?”

“How could I ever forget, Hajime?” Your laugh—god, your laugh was so divine—filled his ears and made the purple lilacs in his heart bloom. “It was our final year in Seijōh and you were so nervous that you practically bawled your eyes out after you confessed.” Your beautiful eyes creased into lovely half-crescents, your cheeks so soft as he pinched them gently for teasing him. He, too, eventually found himself laughing along.

It was one hell of a big monster that he fought. It grew and grew until it ate him up alive—he absolutely had to tell you how he felt or he would probably feel himself die a little bit inside if he didn’t tell you.

The both of you remembered the spring when you received your high school graduation certificates. The breeze was cool and sweet against your skin where it was exposed. It was the final day that you would be wearing the Seijōh uniform, and never had you thought that you would be so attached to it. You stared at the school as the bell tolls, signalling that another hour had gone by.

You could hear the chirping of birds in the distance, overlapping laughter and chatter as the graduating cohort loiters in the school yard that you were all gathered at. Everyone was taking pictures with their friends and family with tearful goodbyes and promises floating into the air like helium balloons. Your final year was over.

“Y/N-chan!” Toorū’s voice managed to reach you from among the crowd. You were surprised to find Iwaizumi by his side instead of the same flock of female admirers. You walked towards them, butterflies getting restless in your stomach from the way Iwaizumi was looking at you as the three of you met halfway. “So this is it, huh?”

“Stop being so negative, Idiotkawa!” Iwaizumi smacked the back of his head.

“You’re not some shōjō manga hero,” you grumbled at the same time.

“You’re both so mean! Mean!” Toorū whined as he rubbed the sore spot, his shoulders drooping ever so slightly as his lower lip jutted out into a pout. You couldn’t help but laugh at his antics.

“Let’s go back to my place. My parents decided to cook up a whole feast for the three of us with,” Iwaizumi offered. You parents weren’t necessarily the celebratory type, so you were just glad that you had your best friends to celebrate the end of your secondary education. You eagerly accepted the invitation with a bright smile, ready to walk with them when he blocked your path. “But before that . . .” He looked over at his childhood friend expectantly. A knowing smile broke upon his face.

“I’ll wait for you two at the entrance, then.” Oikawa didn’t say another word and left the both of you alone. Part of you kind of knew what he wanted to say, but there was this small twisted voice that told you no, that it wasn’t possible for someone as perfect as Iwaizumi would ever reciprocate your feelings for him.

“L/N Y/N.”

“Y-Yes?” Your eyes snapped back to meet his alluring moss green eyes, speckled with the golden rays of sunlight as he looked straight at you. His gaze was unwavering until his eyes left your face, betraying his confident front. You could tell that he was nervous. He was wiping the sweat from the palms of his hands on the sides of his uniform pants. His eyes kept darting between you and the floor, and his lips were parted, trying their best to form words but nothing seemed to come out. “Iwa-chan?” You softly prompted.

“I like you.” That was more than enough to knock the air out of your lungs. Your heart was soaring higher than it had ever gone, wings fluttering in absolute ecstasy as the butterflies in your stomach wreaked havoc out of pure joy. “Fuck, that probably didn’t cut it. Um– shit. I, uh. L/N Y/N, I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you, okay? Ever since we were kids, you’ve been there for me. You helped me and that dumbass whenever we were in need. Even when we fought, we made up, and not once had you held a grudge against me even when I’ve hurt you. You’re the best person that I have in my life ten years ago, today, and ten years from today, and probably forever. If you’d let me, I want to hold your hand and kiss your tears away and be your boyfriend.”

You were left speechless. You stared back at him, jaw slacked and eyes wide in shock. At your lack of response, he began to panic. He began to ramble at how you didn’t need to give him an answer that instant or how he needed to get his feelings known and acknowledged by you. It was so silly of him.

“Iwaizumi Hajime, stop that,” you laughed, tears threatening to spill from the corners of your eyes. He fell silent as he watched you take both of his large, calloused hands in your much smaller ones. “I thought I was the only one who felt that way. I’m in love with you too, Iwa-chan.”

Just like that, the biggest grin that you had ever seen on him broke out. You found yourself in tears, and he, too, was so overwhelmed with feelings that he was physically fighting to keep the tears at bay. This euphoric feeling was one that the both of you kept close to your hearts, even when you felt it almost every day.

“Y’know,” his voice was gentle against your bare skin, nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck as the both of you reminisced the good times. You hummed in response to prompt him forward. “I’ve been thinking . . .”

“What is it, baby?” The palm of your hands were two soft cushions cupping his jawline as you made him look into your eyes. He had always had a problem with eye contact when it came to speaking from his heart. You found it deeply endearing.

“I know we’re still young and all that, but I’m so fucking sure that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I love you so fucking much, Y/N. You mean the universe to me and I want to grow old with you.” You could feel the unsteady thump, thump, thumping of his unsteady heart as he slowly poured his heart out to you; the slightest tremble in his calloused, volleyball-worn hands as they nervously held on to your frame, the pads of his thumbs rubbing gentle circles as if to calm himself down for what he’s about to say. You weren’t dumb—you kind of knew what he was getting at. He wasn’t exactly subtle when he pointed out rings at the jewelry store downtown when the both of you went out on a date last week. “L/N Y/N, I love you with every single fibre of my being. Will you marry me?”

You knew he was scared. You knew he was nervous. You knew he was trying his hardest to keep his cool. He knew that you knew all these; why wouldn’t you? You knew him just like the back of your hand, as he did you. This monster was one hell of a headache. He had practiced the speech over and over again, even going so far as to ask Hanamaki or Matsukawa to roleplay, albeit terribly, as you. But you—oh, you—managed to slay this monster with just a single word.

The corners of your lips curled into a delectable smile. You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his in a kiss that was way too quick for his liking, but it was full of love and adoration nonetheless. His stunning eyes were still fixed on your face as his unsteady heart waited for your answer. The pink of your lips parted, saying the one word that doubled the euphoria that he had felt the day that they had graduated: “Yes!”

.°🍓! | tags; ❞

@samuthots

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sheisbeautyweareworldass · 4 years ago

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Over

📝 fic dedicated to the only and one, my girl @littlx-songbxrd, as part of my 300 followers celebration. just finished writing this one, hope you enjoy it 💞✨

Synopsis: Charles believes he can make Alastair change his mind; Alastair is having none of it.

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Alastair stood up as soon as the Enclave meeting ended. He made his way to the door as fast as he could, knowing very well what would happen if he weren’t one of the first to leave, but having sat down at the end of the room, it was rather difficult to reach the door without running over some elderly Shadowhunters. Mrs. Bridgestock had just disappeared into the hall when he realized the room was pretty much empty. He tried to rush his steps but it was no use – he’d been seen.

“Alastair, wait!” Charles cried out. His hand was holding Alastair’s elbow and he seemed oblivious to the discomfort he was causing on the other man. “I just want to talk with you.”

“Any conversation where you have to hold the person you’re talking against their will is a conversation you shouldn’t be having, Charles.” Alastair’s voice sounded monotone to anyone who didn’t know him well, but the sharp tone made it clear how annoyed he was.

Charles let go of his arm quickly as if he’d been burnt. “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to run away.” The corner of his mouth uplifted unpleasantly. “You seem to have the habit of running away or hiding behind your sister's skirt every time I'm around.”

Alastair raised one of his eyebrows. “I have no wish or need to talk with you, Charles. If you think of me as a coward for avoiding you, do it. I see it as me sparing myself from being in the same room as you.” He crossed his arms – Alastair was already annoyed from spending the day in his father’s presence, the last thing he needed was to finish his day with a longer-than-5-minutes interaction with Charles. “Besides, I already said everything I wanted to you.”

The redhead raised his voice slightly. “You might have done it, but I didn’t.”

Alastair took a breath - he wished Cordelia was with him, not because he needed her there, but because desperately wanted someone to roll eyes with. He looked at Charles, who had placed himself right between Alastair and the door. He was blocking his way out. The fastest way to leave the room was listening to whatever the other man had to say.

“Very well, I'm listening,” he nodded, “but make it quick.”

“You should rethink your decision, Alastair.” Charles’ voice adopted a soft, gentle tone – the kind of tone that could make Alastair’s mind travel back to their first months together. He ignored the pang on his heart caused by the memories. “I understand you were angry and frustrated with last months’ events. I mean - my engagement with Grace, and Cordelia’s health, not to mention the situation with your parents... You were obviously under too much stress.” Charles smiled. “But everything is better now, isn’t it?”

Alastair’s only response was narrowing his eyes.

“You must’ve realized, by now, that what you asked from me was inconceivable,” Charles continued.

“What I asked from you?” Alastair’s voice was dismissive. “It was you, Charles, who asked too much from me. Every time I talked about my desires, my plans, and my ambitions, you were the one asking me to be rational about what it.” He let out a humorless laugh. “Asking me to not be naïve or delusional, asking me to focus on other things - because you knew that if I paid attention to the things I wanted for myself, you wouldn’t be a part of my life anymore.”

“And now you’re the one asking me to give up on my ambitions and plans! How is that fair, Alastair?!” Charles exclaimed. His face was acquiring an ugly shade of red.

“I’m not asking anything from you, not anymore.” He eyed the man before him, His feelings weren’t the same as months ago, but he still hated arguing against him. Especially when “arguing” included to say the same thing, over and over again. “I respect your choice to live in the way it pleases you, Charles, and I don’t judge you for it. But that’s not the way I wish to live and I will not stand by anyone dictating how I should proceed.”

If Charles was the more perceptive kind – or if he had used some of their time together to learn the meaning behind Alastair’s body language and facial expressions – he would’ve already realized that the discussion was useless. However, Charles was Charles, so he remained clueless to the other man’s resolution.

“Alright.” His voice now sounded scornful. “But you surely must see why this is so confusing to me.” Charles glanced around the room as if to make sure that there was no one else and lowered his voice. “At one week you say you lo- what you felt for me, and at the next one you say you don’t want to see me anymore.” He raised his chin, adopting an even more arrogant posture. “It’s... fishy, how fast your feelings seem to have changed.”

Alastair raised his eyebrows so high that they almost met his hairline. “Are you calling me a liar, Charles?”

“No! I have no intention of slander your honor by calling you a liar, Alastair.” Charles smiled patronizingly. “It’s just that you’re not an inconstant man and the way your emotions seem to have shifted raise some doubts about the truth behind them, that’s all.”

The dark-haired man snorted. “I didn’t think I would have to explain the basic concept behind self-preservation to you, Charles.” Alastair stepped closer and raised his voice a ton higher. “I never lied to you, and certainly not about my feelings, whatever they were at the time. You love yourself above all other things, Charles, I merely decided to love myself above you.”

“Do you really mean it, then? Do you really wish for what we had to come to an end? After everything we went through, you cannot even think about coming back to me?” He sounded desperate now, a bit lost, like if only now realization was hitting him. If Alastair didn’t know him well, he could’ve felt sorry for the man.

“What we had, Charles, was an illusion. What we went through were secret encounters late into the night after you’d returned from dinner with your fiancée's family.” Alastair met the other man’s eyes with determination, making sure that every word spoken was listened to by him. “So, to answer your question: no, I cannot even think about it. Look around, Charles” he opened his arms wide, “we’re in a room alone, you’re trying to win back, and not even then you can say you love me, can you?” Alastair’s smile was painful and knowingly. “No, Charles. I won’t come back to you. And now I ask - in the name of what we had, that now seems to be valuable to you – for you to leave alone, once and for all.” He gestured to the blocked door. “Inconvenience is not a good look on the future Consul.”

The older man opened his mouth, but whatever he was about to say was cut off by the sound of steps in the hallway. Cordelia emerged, looking worried; her mouth turned into a thin line once she took notice of who was with her brother.

“Is something happening here?” She asked.

“No,” Alastair crossed the room, without looking at Charles’ direction, to join his sister at the door. “Not anymore.”

“Oh,” Cordelia raised one eyebrow. “Did Charles finally comprehend the meaning behind you not replying to his letters and not welcoming him at our house? We should celebrate!” She exclaimed locking her arms on Alastair’s and smirking at the redhead man.

Charles' face grew with lividness. “Maybe if addressed your superiors with more respect you wouldn’t so often be caught in controversial situations, Cordelia.”

Before she could say anything, Alastair turned to face him again, his eyes burning with quiet anger. “Respect? Like the respect you showed to Ariadne by seeing me while you two were engaged? Perhaps you refer to the respect you showed her when you broke off the engagement while she was in a coma? Or are you talking about the respect you direct to your current fiancée by chasing me around?” His voice was as sharp as his daggers and Cordelia was reminded that her brother had a talent with words when he wanted to. “You’ll think twice before addressing my sister like that, Charles. And maybe think thrice about your concept of superiority if you really believe to be superior to her in any way.”

He left the room without a second look; Cordelia went happily with him. She waited a few seconds before speaking again.

“See, I would say ‘thank you’ for such a passionate demonstration of fraternal love back then, but I remember that when I’m the one saving your ass, you always say that you didn’t need it. So, tell me Alastair dadash, should I be polite or should I take a page from your own book?” Cordelia inquired him with a smile.

“You be quiet,” Alastair rolled his eyes, but she could see his lips twitching.

“You think Charles is going to leave you alone now, for real?” She asked on a low voice.

Alastair took a few seconds to answer her. “To be quite honest, Layla, yes, I think so.”

Cordelia gave a small clap and smiled brightly at him. “We should really celebrate this, then. Did I tell you that Bridget baked a blueberry cake? Fate, it’s what I say.”

Alastair couldn’t help but laugh at her. He let her sister led him to the dining room where the Herondales were waiting for them. He didn’t feel as comfortable at their presence as Cordelia wished him to, but after standing Charles’ presence for more than 5 minutes he felt like he could easily win a fight against a demon army alone. Besides, promise of a blueberry cake was enough to make him enjoyable for the rest of the night.

#alternative synopsis:#girl wastes her day writing a oneshot where she can spill all her hate for one character and all her love for the other character #in the same scene #alastair carstairs #anti charles club #wiriting #mine #aly hits 300 #tlh

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sapphirelass · 4 years ago

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Not you too... - NevillexSister

Hi! So... it’s been a while, but I have been extremely busy with school work and... well to be honest that’s my only excuse XD Anyhow, with maths and physics exams out of the way, it’s finally time for a new uplifting story.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please note:

1: I don’t own any of the gifs used, nor any already established characters, so credit to the authors and original creators - You have done a phenomenal job :)

2: English is not my native language, as I was born and raised in Sweden. I have, however, studied English for almost a decade, so I don’t think it’ll be a problem, I just thought I’d let you know ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Word count: ≈1600

Warnings: Torture, The Cruciatus Curse, The Carrows, Light swearing, Extreme angst...

OC: Louise Longbottom (born 1981)

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1998

March

Hogwarts

“Well, well, well… What do we have here?!”

The frightened first-year trembled and tried to back away.

“I...I.. I was just on my way to the Ravenclaw com…”

Alecto grabbed his jumper and pinned him to the wall.

“Oh I don’t think so! This isn’t the first time we’ve caught you wandering around, Matthews, and I’m afraid we can’t let you get away with it…”

Amycus pulled out his wand and pointed it at the young boy’s throat.

“DON’T YOU DARE!!”

A furious sixth year Gryffindor sprinted through the corridor, her right hand clutched around her wand.

“Leave him alone! He’s eleven!? And has done nothing wrong! Levicorpus!”

Amycus was hoisted into the air by his ankle as the older student carefully approached the younger.

“Hey, are you oka-”

But before even getting a chance to comfort the boy, the tip of a wand was pressed forcefully against her throat. The young Ravenclaw knew better than to stick around, especially when Alecto Carrow disarmed his saviour and pushed her against the wall.

“Longbottom… No bloody surprise there, c’mon!”

Amycus was back on his feet and, sadly, a fight between one wandless sixteen year old and two death eaters could barely even be called a fight. The Carrows grabbed an arm each, and made their way towards the dungeons.

***

Neville was, despite the gloomy atmosphere, in high spirits. It was Friday, his last class of the day had been herbology, and he hadn’t received detention a single time that week. He entered the common room and sat down on the sofa with a copy of A Compendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions.

Later that night, Ginny Weasley and Seamus Finnigan climbed through the portrait hole and approached him slowly.

“Hey!”, he said, “Everything good?”

“Neville… Where’s Louise? Is she okay?”

Neville frowned, “Wha.. Why shouldn’t she be? Where is she anyways, I thought she was with you?!”

“Neville…”, Seamus began, putting a hand on his shoulder, “She-”

“What, Seamus!?”

“She ran into the Carrows.... They were threatening some Ravenclaw first-year and she interfered before she could help herself.”

Neville felt his blood run cold.

“So? What did they do? Where is she?”

“I don’t know, we thought she would be back by now… We… we thought she was with you.”

Neville closed his book, not bothering to look for a bookmark, and left without a word. He didn’t dare to think about what could have happened to his sister, but he knew that he had to find her. Making his way through the corridors, he kept trying to tell himself that she was fine. That she was okay. That he would find her unharmed. Deep down, he knew it was highly improbable, but one can hope, right?

***

“Incarcerous!”

A thick, bloodstained rope wrapped itself tightly around her wrists and ankles, effectively preventing any movements or attempts to escape.

“You, Longbottom - you and your ‘good-for-nothing’ brother have had your fun. I think it’s about time we teach you a little lesson.”

She sent the professor an angry glare. “So you’re finally going to start then?”

“What?”, Alecto spat

“Well, you are our teachers after all. One would think you would have planned on teaching us stuff from the beginning - it is your bloody job - but I’m glad you finally wanna give it a go…”

With a furious look on his face, Amycus grabbed Louise’s jumper and threw her violently to the floor. He charged and delivered a rough, well placed kick to her cheek before pulling out his wand.

“You really are a stupid little blood traitor, aren’t you? Do you honestly believe you’ll get out of here unharmed?”

“That kick was rather nasty so no, I think it’s too la…”

Her response was interrupted by a swift wand movement followed by a single word.

“Crucio!!”

Louise let out an ear piercing scream and began shaking violently. It wasn’t unexpected, yet she had feared this moment her entire life, and the realization that the time had finally arrived was just as horrifying as the pain itself.

“Maybe that’ll teach you something. Then again, your family never were the brightest of our kind, were they? Not even this lovely curse got the message across so… perhaps a few more times would suffice!”

The death eaters smirked evilly.

“CRUCIO!!”

***

Hours later the torture momentarily ceased, and Louise’s pained screams had drifted further and further towards what most would call hoarse whimpering. She was shaking, struggled to breathe, and no longer fully capable of taking in all that happened around her.

“Well, well, well… looking rather shaken, Longbottom. Had enough yet? What do you reckon, sister?”

Alecto looked down at the trembling sixteen year old with disgust.

“It does seem like the message has sunken in�� But don’t you, dearest brother, feel like we should grant her some more… long lasting evidence of what she went through? Something more... physical?”

“What a splendid suggestion! Will you do me the honours?”

“Gladly!”

She pulled a small dagger from her cloak, though Louise had by the time almost passed out and lacked the strength to turn around and look. The girl lay motionless on the cold floor as her teacher grabbed her Gryffindor robes and threw them roughly into a messy pile. Alecto rested her hand on Louise’s collarbone, and repeatedly pierced her delicate skin.

A couple of minutes later, the siblings stood back to admire their work and muttered sectumsempra before finally leaving and locking the door behind them.

Louise still didn’t react, but was moments later resting in a puddle of her own thick, red, hot blood.

***

“Lou?!”

“Lou?!!!”

“L..Lou?”

As soon as Neville laid eyes on his sister, he ran up to her and pulled her into his arms. The word ‘traitor’ written across her neck caused him to look away for a moment, but he held her close. She was unconscious and her breathing was very shallow, but there was no doubt about it - she was alive!

“Louise, please wake up for me. Please”

She was barely bleeding anymore, but had lost copious amounts of blood and was in need of immediate medical care.

“Neville, we’ve got to bring her up to the Room of Requirement.”

“But she needs healing!?”

“Yes, but it’s not safe here. They might return, c’mon.”

“Fine, let me just…”

He bent down and untied the ropes before picking her up. Seamus brought the cloak and they left the dungeons hoping that they, for the love of Merlin, would make it without getting caught.

***

“I...not..that!”

“Nev… just saying… don’t know… she’ll… what they did!”

“That doesn’t mean I’m gonna give up!?”

At first it was all incoherent, but eventually she started to pick up full sentences. The pain did however return as soon as she woke up, and she groaned slightly, causing the conversation to die out.

Her brother was by her side in an instant.

“Lou!? How… I.. Are you okay? Here, let me help you!”

He reached out to help her into a sitting position, but she flinched and moved away from his touch. This reaction caused his heart to completely shatter, and he raised his hands in surrender as a few tears left his eyes.

“Lou”, he muttered carefully, “it’s just me. I’m not going to hurt you, I could never…”

She looked back at him, eyes filled with dread and an uncertainty completely unlike anything he had ever seen before.

“C’mon , L”, Seamus said as he put a hand on her shoulder, “‘tis just us.”

This move, though a very gentle one, caused her to quickly withdraw further as her breath quickened.

“Shut up Seamus”, said Ginny angrily, pulling their Irish friend away as Neville sat down on his knees. He was careful not to touch his sister - the thought of him scaring her being far too much for him to handle - and then placed his wand on a table a few feet away.

“Lou”, he said, once again holding his hands up in surrender, “I won’t hurt you, okay, just… do you know where you are?”

She didn’t respond, but did however look less terrified than before. Deep inside, Neville realized that Louise calming down should make him feel better, but there was something about her that gave him the creeps… There was something uncomfortably familiar about her posture, the nervous shifting and the way she seemed to be staring into nothing, yet he found himself unable to put his finger on it.

Then it hit him. He immediately understood who she reminded him of:

Their Parents

He closed his eyes tightly and shuddered at the thought. It-it wasn’t possible! It couldn’t be...Neville Longbottom had never been so afraid in his life, but he knew what he had to do. He had to ask. He had to know.

“Lou?”, he repeated softly, “Lou, do you know who I am?”

Not receiving an immediate response worried him, but he gave it the benefit of the doubt - Maybe she just needed some time?

So he waited.

30 seconds.

And waited.

A minute.

And waited.

Five minutes.

No answer.

That’s when it burst. Neville broke down completely. He put his head in his hands and let the tears flow freely, having absolutely no desire to stop them.

“No…”, he stuttered, “No, no, no...not... not you too…”

“Not you too”

~ L

Masterlist

#harry potter imagine #neville longbottom imagine #Harry Potter #harry potter oneshot #neville longbottom #creative writing #writing #deathly hallows #stuff #angst #hp one shot

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mikkock · 4 years ago

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Hey hi your murder mystery art is super totally cool and amazing and I'd like to Extra! Extra! hear all about it *rattles bells*

haha wow i cant believe ud ask me THIS! unbelievable! now im gonna have to make a long post!

all info under the cut cause im kind like that ♥

For reasons I felt like making a Fancy Ass murder mystery story, with you know, hella complex secret storylines and everyone having drama and shit, and one person died but the more the story goes the less people care about who did the murder and the more they want tHE JUICY DETAILs. X and Y had an afFAIR you say!!! well that’s thousands time more interesting than that murder that happened, who cares about the culprit its not like any of us are going anywhere anyway! tell me more about the marital issues!

The ultimate Vibes are Clue (the game, ya kno, it had a movie too, and that movie was shot with three different endings -fun fact- so that movie theatres could play one alternatively that way people wouldnt get spoiled or even if they did they would not get the ending they were spoiled or even if all three were spoiled you couldnt know which ending you were getting anyway, big dick move, cause its an old movie and film is expensive, also that movie stupid and campy, ALSO I ONLY LEARNED MAKING THIS AU THAT IN ENGLISH THE GAME’S CALLED “CLUE” wE CALL IT CLUEDO therefore my wip playlist is called cluedo. because. fuck it.)(i just have an emotional attachment to that game i even had a cd rom video game version and it was the spookiest shit for a 6 years old, trust me, i played it so much tho i didnt even understand the rULES i was just making scenarios like gathering the characters in rooms n making conversations outloud cause honestly the banter is the best part of a murder mystery) ANYWAY that sure is a whole paragraph of tangent.

BUT YE the inspo from the Clue game. you can tell it from the Colours obviously, everyone’s colour codded.(even everyone’s name is colours as well you’ll see it’s real dang fancy! im just remaking that game but with 2932020 characters and more behind the scenes drama and also for gay people.)

So BASIC PLOT!

Sir Belyy, the dude in white, is The Rich Powerful Respected Fancy Boss, and he throws a Fancy Reception Party with his closest friends and associates to celebrate the opening of a new branch of his business. All the lads gather in his wonderful little very isolated mansion in the middle of nowhere, like ok he got a death wish or something or he’s very trusting of his business partners, but not a good move, cause in the middle of the reception, as A Phat Storm Starts (for plot convenience, we going with a campy vibe if you couldnt tell), his body is found, it’s awful, there’s a killer on the loose! All the guests gather, and attempt to maybe contact the authorities, to not avail, since The Storm ya know, phone lines are Broken my dude. Its clear that the culprit is among them, since no one could have entered the house, or left it (cuz once again, ThE sTORm). And then it’s all about interrogating each other, distrust, alliances and betrayal, revealing one’s deepest secrets when they form an alibi and revealing someone else’s deepest secret for they could be a motive! Meanwhile there’s a dead body in the mansion just chillin there.

So as I mentioned, I changed everyone’s name to be colour related (or ya know, food or flowers of that colour cause sometimes a colour in a language would not work as a name given the way names work in that culture all that jazz) which is the trippiest thing cause tHATS NOT YALLS USUAL NAMES but its fun (also changed so many ages hgfhs it was a trip)(still no one’s really old i guess i got boomerphobia). The “Cast” is clearly the most important part, and if ur a True “My OCs” Connaisseur (hdfghd the most useful skill to have, knowing *MY* Charactersdshgd) you may have recognised some faces and can already read some vibes and predict who will be progressing the plot and who will be yelling at people throwing accusations ghdfgd.

(god i wish i hadnt slacked off making the portraits of everyone in that AU i only have 3 tho that’s so sad so ill just make little sketches just cause <3 only text??? i got too many hoes with no attention span for that)

Sir BELYY (the one who dIEs lmao)

(bust shot missing the fact that this man is the tallest beefiest lad around)

Intimidating, powerful, composed, wealthy, carries the name of a family who has generations of control to it’s reputation, he’s The Man that hoes who believe in the economy wishes they were. As in, the “self made” man who only just happened to benefit from having a wealthy background to uplift his plans. In his youth, he wanted to prove his worth, seperated himself from his father, started a business, that business became big, then got attached to the family’s business, bam back to square one but with Reputation now. There seemed to be VERY big tension between him and The Father, some speculate it had to do with his unknown mother, and some family drama there, and it never got resolved as old man Belyy died quite young (the jUICY speculations are that current sir Belyy mURDEREd old man sir Belyy, fucked up if true!). People love him though in general, as he has that reputation of “Cold Lad With a Gold Heart” aka he takes people under his wings, donates, doesnt treat his employees like the absolute worst garbage etc... you know, he’s rich and a half decent person, so obviously he’s an angel on earth. But does it matter though, he’s dead! that’s the concept of the story!

Mr.GRAY (the grey guest)(who could have guessed from the name)

He’s one of Sir Belyy’s oldest employees, and benefits from a high rank in the company. But, sadly for him, he’s been stagnating lately, as newer, youngest employees seem to have Belyy’s favours, and are his prefered associates for important tasks and positions. Therefore he has Some Bitterness, Some Salt, Some Distaste, some unbriddled but professionally muted hatred for Specific people in the company. He can be an antagonistic figure, but the amount of time he spent in Belyy’s circle grants him an immense quantity of information about the man, but mostly, about his business. Anything about the company’s history, dealings, operations, he’s aware of, either having been told of them, or having snooped around to obtain, immune to being questioned due to his legitimacy in the company.

Mr.LIM (the green guest)

Remember when it was said that Gray had beef with some employees cause they were younger and rose to high ranks faster than him and became Belyy’s favourite over him? Yeah well here comes the one he hates the most for that (ofc he’s belyys fave cuz he’s Mine <3) Our lad caught Belyy’s attention for his Exploits in like, em fancy high school tournaments of smart people, it’s a thing its ridiculous, making kids compete on Smart stuff for the pride of their schools n shit, well homie Lim got clout when doing that, and Belyy was extremely interested cause that kid’s main thing was how “this young lad got mad strategic skills tf are u a war general or smth how fancy”, and that’s a coveted skill for ruthless business. So as soon as the kid is an adult, bam, join the company my dude. And because he’s just that Cool n Sexy ofc he met the expectations Belyy had, and old man Belyy got attached cuz it do be such a young lad, a kid, mentally i am adopting. That’s how you get a youngas employee becoming the right hand man of one the phatest CEO in a few years, and even make your way into being a Good Lad on top of a business partner. And that’s how you get Gray to hate your ass too. Now though, fine lad with mad strategic skills, rising to power that fast, and even infiltrating Belyy’s private life? If I were Gray I’d call suspicion there’s surely some shady stuff going no way we’re just dealing with a nice fella who just happens to work good and be friendly to the boss right?

Herra MUSTA (the black “guest”)

Belyy’s newest butler, assistant, house keeper, he multitasks. His family has been tied to Belyy’s for generations, fullfilling roles of help, but also of confidents. He’s been the head butler since only a short time, after his mother passed, and as such is still “in training” you could say, despite having served the family his whole life. There are rumours going around that the contract tying his family to the Belyys may end on his generation and need to be resigned. He known the manor by heart, and carries all keys to any locked room (and mostly, The Master Key, cause in an old house, some doors may be locked beyond all still existing keys). He also knows secrets of the family that no one else knows, but good luck getting em out of him, he’s under contract not to divulge em bro.

Mr. HASSEL (the brown guest)

Belyy’s childhood friend. They grew up together, pictured their dreams together, sworn to flourish together, worked together when starting the company, and then Hassel felt he should create his own thing instead of depending on his friend’s existing wealth, and while Belyy’s business went wild, his never took off. They still stayed very close, despite the massive difference in wealth. Belyy considers him his closest friend, the one person he can trust (fucked if hassel did the murder lemme tell u). So of course, he’s still always invited to the Prestigious meet ups where’s he’s free to feel uncomfortably out of place amongst all the rich and powerful people that he could have been a part of had he had a tiny bit of luck and a small loan from a wealthy relative...People LOVE saying he’s still hanging out with Belyy so much to leech off his wealth, cause of course they do! His bestie status means he has a whole different brand of information of Belyy than his butler does, the Most Intimate Stuff, the Childhood Stuff. The Juicy stuff ya kno...But Bro Code, its all secrets...

Sir RUZH (the red “guest”)

Deep dive into Belyy’s personnal history, the man has many employees working at his house keeping it working, clean, ya know the vibe. They live on the premice, one has a kid who’s just a Joy to be around, all the employees just vibe with that lad, he’s just a born socialite you know? Belyy gets to meet the kid, and also hella vibes with him. And because human are influenced by their feelings, he gives the kid’s mum a bit of a preferencial treatment, in the tasks she fullfils and all, til he gives her an important-as mission, and then there’s an accident n mama dies, and now Belyy got guilt and there’s this kid who just Vibes. So naturally the move is to take the kid in, and play on how his vibes are just so clean, and raise him to be the Perfect Entertainer for guests, bam, its soft power propaganda, if everyone loves your now son’s vibes, they associate them with you too. And also that’s kind of a clean rep, the selfless man who adopted his employee’s son to not have him fall to the streets, how heartwarming. Not at all traumatising for the kid too I bet! But anyway now the lad is just the most charming young adult, mission accomplished. He’s always present at any reception, ready to work his people-pleasing magic, and then going back to a gigantic empty manor to wait for the next and curate the perfect vibes to meet the expectations of dad. On the plus side, he knows everyone, and those who don’t know him cannot wAIT to, he’s just got that aura ya know. People skills for miles, and the insider knowledge that comes with being the son of the CEO, all this hidden behind the personna of the fresh innocent bashful party lad.

Dr.FEN (the pink guest)

Do not get mistaken by the title, he’s no doc, he will not diagnose you with anything, he just studied long enough to get the sexy title. Study in what? Haha. Nothing shady. Just toxicology. He’s a world reknown poison expert basically, that’s his main thing. Oh but don’t worry, of course studying substances that may kill people is only for finding out how to cure them from it of course. What brings him in this circle? Simple, Belyy may or may not have started to suffer some weird illness that no doctor has been able to find the source, let alone cure, of. Him and Dr.Fen had met previously on some event, cause some rich man also love flexing how smart they are and attending sciencey shit, and he was contacted as sort of a shot in the dark. The lad does know how to treat some things, maybe he can treat The Mysterious Unwellness, since no traditional doctor was able to. He knows science, he’s trustworthy, bam, you’re hired to work on My Case Exclusively. Thanks to this, Dr.Fen has access to the whole health history of Belyy and his family, to many mANY dangerous substances, and also has The Respect of the hoes at the party. He HAS a doctorate after all. Epitome of knowledge. And he’s a kind to people and he wears pink like dang how can you nOT pour your wHOLE trust in him.

Sir MOREVITCH (the blue guest)

Youngest son of an affluent family, who used to be close the the Belyys. The two families fell slightly appart after the death of the previous head of the family on the Belyy side, as they do nOT vibe with the current one (well current, til the first night of the story ig). But, unbeknownst to all, one strong link had been kept, between the youngest of the Morevitch, who dislikes his family and wishes to emancipate himself from them while also assuring his depart will not throw him basically in the streets, and our beloved Sir Belyy, who also dislikes the Morevitches but loves to see the rebellious energy of the young one (and ya know, my enemy’s enemy’s my friend or however you say that). So Belyy’s basically offering tips and helping Morevitch plant himself safely out of his family’s grasp, but it’s all taking quite some time isn’t it, slow and steady is fine until your parents try to arrange a wedding to secure more political power, and suddenly it is all quite urgent that you escape that situation because No Thank You Parents I Do Not Want A Wife I’m Too Young And Also Huh <3 Stuff You Won’t Like Hearing For Sure <3. The people who know they’re working together also know that it’s a big point of argument between them, the difference in vision between “you have to go slow and steady to be safe” and “I have very limited time to get to that safety anyway so I gotta risk it” “hell no you cant i can’t follow through if we’re going that quick that’ll put me at risk and you’re family’s gonna send gunmen to take me down”. A mess, it’d be much quicker to just obtain a few million bucks out of nowhere and bolt for sure...

Mr.GANG (the orange guest)

Morevitch’s trusted assistant. He hears the concerns, he helps the secret businesses, he lies to the parents about the whereabouts, and mostly, he’s basically a budget spy. The lad got that talent where people just don’t notice him popping behind them and catching all their dirty laundry as they confess it to someone they trust, and he always manages to break into places, get the intel he was looking for, and escape, putting everything back into place as if no one was ever there (wonder where he got all those skills from damn!). But what he’s even better at is being sneaky not only to benefit his boss, but himself as well <3. If he can catch all the info in the world, go any places, nothing’s stopping him from playing double agent and also going behind Morevitch’s back. After all the assistant life isn’t the most glamourous and rewarding, who can blame him from going and using his talents to build his own little exit route, right? Everybody sort of knows he cannot be trusted, but also no one managed to really incriminate or stop him, and as much as he has tea on many people, no has it on him, but bet once found that would be heeeella juicy.

M.MOUTARDE (the yellow guest)(this one is straight up the name of the yellow player in the french edition of clue too when i say its my main vibe)

Moutarde was an influential celebrity. He had a big break acting in a movie that the whole country stanned so hard they basically turned the script into their national anthem (they would have if it was a true democracy where the people really decide), he was so handsome and elegant, everyone’s dream husband. And then the fame fiddled out because it’s how fame is, one moment you’re the sexiest dish on the table and the next someone brings in dessert and baam, its all about that fresh cake, and no one pays any mind to your delightful aroma anymore, you’ve gone cold, they had a bite, their interest is somewhere else. Belyy really admires his work though, and mostly finds his image fits with the brand of his company, therefore the two are working on a collaboration to make Moutarde a representative. This WOULD boost Moutarde’s reputation, for his ads would be displayed on every imaginable surface of the country, and it would also benefit the company cause being represented by thAT sexy motherfucker? clearly that’s a deal. The freshness of the partnership means Moutarde is a newcomer in the guests, a fresh face, with no reputation, no relationships, no unfair biases against him. He’s just the new handsome charismatic lad with a squeaky clean image. Emphasis on “image”. After all, no one really knows anything of his background, right?

Kun.LAWENDER (the purple guest)

Private investigator, very useful to be around at a party it’s almost like it was expected there’d be a body to investigate, he’s a very close associate of Belyy, as there’s nothing more important to business than investigating the rivals and finding dirt on them to make them fall through infamy. He’s not exactly the PI who goes look for justice to be served, he’s just here for cash bro. He’s got intel on everyone, and will only let it out if offered the right thing in return (money, or sometimes other pieces of very secret intel, trade is good). Wouldn’t advise letting him and Gang team up tbh but they probably wouldnt, as Lawender is really more of a lone wolf player, going on his own for himself. The one thing that negates his usefulness as a PI on an accidental crime of scene is that even if he knew the whole truth of the event he would not spit it out unless he benefitted from saying it. He sure is a polarising lad, but at the same time, an untouchable one, he’s too knowledgeable to be taken down. Rather than sneaky, he’s extremely observant, noticing the tiniest details and engraving them in his memory, ready to be linked up to other details to deduct the big picture. He’s the upfront tea gathered basically (as opposed to Gang’s shadow tea gathering if you will, they are similar forces but using opposite methods)(also one of em got a licence n the other does not hAH).

~~~~

Now the secrets, all of em have them. One of em at least got the secret of having KILLED Belyy that’s that. But that’s to be kept for later (for if i ever use this story for more than daydream material gfhjgh) bet you can imagine what some of em may be just out of Knowing what i do, from having seen the characters in other contexts, or just because you’re a genius and reading the character profiles immediatly lit up the bulbs in your head forming the perfect theory, props to you, mad genius.

Honestly my thoughts are just how lit of a game that would be, you get to pick one hoe (maybe sum are locked til u find their secrets for juicy purposes) and you do your invetigation using your character’s perks and disadvantages, and maybe there could even be Multiple scenarios and outcomes, to spice it up, give replay value, i just think it’d be a game id spend hours on. tryin to get the spicy details of everyone’s life. walking around n digging through a rich man’s stuff, witnessing the drAMA of people fighting cause they’re locked in with a murderer and that’s stressful ngl. That or a long ass show @ netflix wanna give me a show maybe? give me hella budget we’re making it animated cause im too cultured for live action.

whatever i make of it though, i hope i can make this story Flourish, just so that i can lay down all those secret backstories i’ve written. i want the satisfaction of throwing out the craziest secret drama between character n seeing peeps loose their minds, it just is a tasty experience.

also i gotta say, i plug the hell out of Clue for an inspo but when i was building the basics of the story my mind immediatly went “oH MY GOD THE VIBES,, THE BACKSTABBING AND tEAMING UP and all,,, its The Genius, that one tv show where peeps have to do the wildest games that require strategy n they’re in that fancy set that looks like a rich ppl mansion oh god the vibes” so yeah, i rewatched the whole first two seasons cause they’re my faves and that had an impact if only minimal in the aesthetic.

Anyway hope that quick presentation gave you a lil taste of the story, and maybe,,,, got you curious,,, craving to learn more like you never did before (im exaggerating the only real question we all got is just “so who’s fuckin with whom then how many of yall secretly dating” this the real deal)

#doodlin every lad's face at one rly be like 'welcome to the cheekbone festival'#they got antti AND said at once like the cheekbonage is out of this world!#that's musta n gang btw #also every single time i draw cream (blue lad) im like 'i havent drawn u in ages' n it isnt #that i dont draw him much anymore #but that ive drawn only this bitch for months back in the days #him bein in this without his lover....criminal #cuz his boo wouldnt fit a murder mystery au like #hoes would find the corpse he'd just be like 'welp on that imma go to bed aight bye'#anyway u can tell which of my ocs i simp for v easely #like fr #they the ones i spend the longest drawfigfdj cuz i draw em n then go 'not hot enough do it again'#a struggle!#anyway the secret is that i prepares a motive AND an alibi for all of em #so that i can pick who murdered belyy at the last moment <3 #its all abt the contextual clues on the scene of crime <3 #none of the drama tells u anything its all for the treat of gossip <3 #sad part of this project is how much ive planned n written yet i can barely tell anythin if i want to make it #n ive drawn nothingbhd #i hav a dari n a weiwei in their coloured clothes lookin handsome cuz ofc i do #im predictable i have faves #ask if they're in love in this one too take a fuckin guess #u rly think hoe going to his boss's house so much to see the ceo ???? HAH #the real question isnt if theyre smooshin we all kno that answer the question is if dad white suit knows thATs whats important #are yall secret lovers or is green boy climbing the ladder of the company cuz he's smashing the boss's son #who knows #i do i aint telling pay me

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cathkaesque · 4 years ago

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British politics in 2020 is a mass of contradictions. The outright legislative terror of the early to mid-2010s has momentarily abated but the landmines planted in that period continue to go off (Grenfell, ‘Windrush’, COVID-19 ‘unpreparedness’). Measures designed to align the working class with capital (right-to-buy) produce renters unions and anti-landlordism. Stalinists lead the rearguard action against civic equality for trans women. A government of ultra-Thatcherites sets about hiking the minimum wage. ‘Momentum’ is a synonym for inertia, austerity is over and only just beginning, the ‘spirit of the blitz’ is the reality of immigration enforcement, and we all live under permanent lock-down but everyone’s at work.

In the middle of all of this, AngryWorkers, ‘a small political collective’ based in West London, have published Class Power On Zero-Hours, an account of their six years of organising in the warehouse and logistics corridor of Greenford and Park Royal. The period that the work deals with coincides roughly with the phase of British history dominated by ‘Brexit’, and Class Power deals with some of the ways in which that (non-)event has been experienced beyond the Twitter Janus Face of gammon nationalists and aggrieved liberal solicitors. It encompasses, also, three major workers’ inquiries, an account of the role of food supply chains in the context of global struggles, a new perspective on the relationship of work and automation, a sketch for revolutionary politics today, and an uplifting middle-finger to boring left-wing scholasticism of all shades and varieties. Along with D. Hunter’s Chav Solidarity and Phil A. Neel’s Hinterland, it’s probably the best book about class to come out of the tiny circles of English-speaking anarchists and communists in the last ten years, and everyone who cares about that stuff even a little bit should definitely read it.

The book’s first paragraph gives a flavour of things to come:

We felt an urgent need to break out of the cosmopolitan bubble and root our politics in working class jobs and lives. We wanted to pay more than just lip service to the classic slogan, ‘the emancipation of the working classes must be conquered by the working classes themselves’. Over the next six years, comrades joined us and we worked in a dozen different warehouses and factories. We organised slowdowns on shop floors, rocked up on bosses’ and landlords doors with our solidarity network, and banged our heads against brick walls as shop stewards in the bigger unions. We wrote up our successes, as well as the dead-ends, in our publications, WorkersWildWest, which we gave out to 2,000 local workers at warehouse gates at dawn. We tried to rebuild class power and create a small cell of revolutionary organisation. The book documents our experiences. It is material for getting rooted. It is a call for an independent working class organisation. (7)

These are the methods; what about the conclusions? What do the General Rules of the International Workingmen’s Association of 1864 mean to the working people of Ealing in 2014? How does a working class that is increasingly Eastern European experience UK politics in a period in which the main focus of the ‘national conversation’ is about how to stop them from ‘coming over here’? AngryWorkers acknowledge that ‘the years from 2014 to 2020 in London were a thorny desert’ (35) in terms of workplace struggles. Workers ‘are in a state of permanent suspension: what will happen with Brexit? Will my wife and family get a visa? Will the bank grant me a mortgage if my wife gets her overtime? Will the situation “back home” get better?’ (38) Unsurprisingly, ‘times are getting harder’ for the working classes even as the mood darkens back in the cosmopolitan bubble. There, it’s climate change and ‘global fascism’; here, it’s sciatica and the £4,000 charge to get your baby delivered in the NHS hospital (99). The prospects for ‘Revolutionary transition and its conditions in the UK’ (the title of Chapter 14 of the book) don’t look rosy from either perspective; but AngryWorkers at least have some ideas about how the obstacles might be cleared away.

For this reason, Class Power on Zero-Hours isn’t a defeatist book. The authors love their area. They’ve spent years getting to know it. They want it to be at the centre of a working class movement. The desire is at the root of their impatience with parliamentary reformism, but it’s also what compels them to overcome their revolutionary scruples and to try things that they normally wouldn’t, such as joining big conservative trade unions and throwing themselves into the miasma of their internal politics. The text gives a meticulous overview of what the neighbourhood offers: control over 60 percent of London’s food imports, hundreds of unorganised small and large businesses operating on a low-wage model, and widespread disgust for official workers’ organisations that have sunk into the status quo like an old trolley into a canal. Right to the finish AW remain convinced that Greenford and Park Royal have the potential to exist at the centre of a new culture of class initiative and autonomy, and the dozens of pictures in Class Power on Zero-Hours of pay protests by women workers, occupations of Labour Party offices, IWW organising drives, and scores of workplace newsletters are a beautiful, moving anticipation of how things could be.

Organised around this six-year history are a series of more general claims, dealing with ‘the political’ (prospects for ‘democratic socialism’) and ‘the economic’ (unevenness of automation under capital), and trying to bridge the gaps in-between. If we take the book’s absolute ground level conviction to be that ‘the working class has become invisible’, (30) and has been subordinated to the concerns of an educated inner-city ‘left’ (an argument AngryWorkers share with the other two books I mentioned above), then its other main arguments can be arranged in something like the following sequence:

1) ‘the left’ has responded to the transformation in its class base, not by altering its practices, but instead by changing its theories;

2) the most common theoretical claim on the left is that we have moved from an ‘industrial’ to a ‘service’ economy. The second most common is that ‘unskilled’ and ‘semi-skilled’ manual jobs are being progressively automated away. Both of these claims are untrue (they are psychological projections);

3) a political theory that accepts both claims is likely to conceive of power in terms of trade unions and the state. It will be broadly oblivious to the ways in which both serve to oppress workers and stifle their initiative (this is what ‘democratic socialism’ is);

4) the recent emergence of complex global supply chains servicing the ‘consumer economy’ has required the concentration of large groups of industrial workers in massive central logistics hubs;

5) the workers in and around these extra- and peri-urban hubs are organisationally weak, but have significant ‘structural’ power;

6) a left that wields economic power in the form of independent working class control over productive resources is still the main prerequisite for a revolutionary change in the way we live.

This looks like an excellent read - the kind of class struggle politics the British left has lacked for some time!

#socialism #trade unions #Class Power on Zero Hours

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daughters-and-winsisters · 5 years ago

Text

Huntress- Part 21: Realignment

Sam x Daughter!Reader, takes place in S12 E21 so warning:SPOILERS

Part one Part two Part three Part four Part five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen Part Fourteen Part Fifteen Part Sixteen Part Seventeen Part Eighteen Part Nineteen Part Twenty

Sam and Dean didn’t bother knocking. They swung the motel door open, distraught and desperate. Sam was quieter than usual, panicked. And Dean was angry. Since the last hunt, Y/N had been missing. They’d ran after Max to help him out and when they came back to the Impala, where Sam had last seen her, she was gone. The boys sought their Mother for help, but the motel room was empty.

The brothers shared a look of fear. “Dean, Y/N’s gone. And now Mom’s gone…I don’t-“ “Sammy, look at me,” Dean ordered, “we’re gonna find them. We will.” Sam nodded at his brother, his phone's rings breaking the silence. “Hey Jody,” he answered, “No…no I hadn’t heard…oh God…what happened? Alright…well thanks for telling me. See ya.” “What happened?” Dean asked, picking at the pieces of paper on the desk. “Eileen…she got mauled to death by an animal, supposedly. But she wasn’t in Ireland.” “So she was running from something?” Dean said. “I guess,” Sam shrugged, “That’s like the third Hunter death in two weeks. That can’t be a coincidence.” “Well if Mom’s not on the road she’s usually bunking with the Brits, but Mick’s not answering his calls still…” “Maybe call Ketch?” Sam suggested, hating those words but knowing it was necessary. He watched Dean reluctantly take his phone, his mind elsewhere. If anything had happened to his girl…or his Mom…he wouldn’t know what to do.

“Hey Ketch it’s Dean…Winchester! Right well we’re looking for Mom, have u seen her? I’m not being rude! Listen, I don’t want a manners lesson I just wanna speak to my Mom!” he sighed angrily and hugged an, “Alright…bye.” “Any luck?” Sam asked. He was fidgeting with his phone, flipping it in his hands nervously. “Said he hasn’t heard from her in weeks,” Dean said bitterly, “but they had a case a few days back so he’s definitely lying.” “Chances are whatever’s happened to Mom has happened to Y/N.” Sam nodded.“Let’s go.”

_______________________________________________________________

Sam stared down at Eileen’s body, holding back tears. He bit his lip and looked away, down at his hands where they shook. He’d lost a friend and he was scared he’d lost a daughter. “Seven Hunter deaths.” Dean mumbled.

“And those are just the ones we know about.” Sam nodded.“So what, did monsters start working together?”

“Dean, we know that demons and monsters don’t just team up,” Sam began, starting to panic, “this is something else. No one’s heard from Mom, Cas is missing and we have no idea where the hell Y/N is! Ketch is lying to us and Mick won’t pick up the damn phone! I- I wanna punch something in the face!”

“Good,” Dean said blankly, “hold on to that. Use it.” Dean glanced at Eileen before adding, “If this is a hell hound then we know what that means.”

________________________________________________________________

You blinked awake, taking a good few seconds to gather your surroundings. It was cold. You were hooked up to some sort of IV drip looking machine, with needles jabbed into your hands. You sat up and looked about the room, immediately recognising it as Men of Letters. It was where they had attempted to realign you, where they had injected you with some sort of brainwashing fluid, only it hadn’t worked on you for reasons unknown. The room was large and circular, whitewashed walls with metallic greys to separate the clinical look. There was the bed, the machinery and the door. It was locked shut. There was also a camera in the top right corner. There were footsteps outside every now and then.Your head was aching, but you felt okay so you tore the needles from their grips in your veins, wincing a little as they came out, before tossing them aside. The door handle twisted and you adjusted so you were sat perched on the side, legs swinging beneath.

In walked Toni. Brilliant.

“Ah, Brooks. Long time no see.” Despite the greeting she looked cold and showed no emotion, not even her usual pride. “Alright?” You said, not sure what else to say or do. She stared for a little while, so you reluctantly added, “What happened?” “You were already out cold on the grass, unconscious and ready for the taking. You could have died so really you should be thanking us.” “I could have died?” “Yes. Your brain activity was fluctuating significantly. And your heart was barely beating. So now it’s my turn to ask you, what happened?” “Why should I tell you?” You spat. Truth was, you had no idea what had happened. You’d had another wave of pain and that was all you could remember. Toni smiled ever so slightly, “Just as I suspected. You have no idea what’s happening, do you?”You examined her expression worriedly. Of course, it gave nothing away, but you were desperate for answers. “Y/N,” Toni began, folding her arms over her chest, “do you know why the realignments never worked on you? We initially thought it was genetics, but your Mother switched just fine, didn’t she?” You winced at the mention of your Mum, you didn’t like to think about what she became. “Such a shame we had to kill her,” Toni smirked, “but we had to see whether your brain would succumb if it was vulnerable. A brain in mourning, distraught and ready to be manipulated. It’s the perfect target for realignment.”

“And yet here I am.” You smiled sweetly.

“I would tell you, but I’m having far too much fun. Perhaps tomorrow, but then again…perhaps not. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got your Father and Uncle to kill.” She smirked, holding her gaze with you long enough to make you look away. You hoped to God that your Dad and Uncle Dean were smart enough to know she was coming. As the door slammed shut, the handle locked into place and the light buzzed a taunting red. A scowl grew upon your face. You stood from the bed, a little unsteady, but good enough to walk.

There was a low hum of electricity in the air, at least you thought that's what it was and they watched you through the camera with intrigue. A few hours went by and you circled the room countless times. Truth be told, you were scared. You'd forgotten what it was like to be without a family. It was too easy to be comfortably surrounded by loved one's so much so that when they are gone, even for a day, it somehow doesn't even feel real. Your feet were beginning to drag and you could no longer hear footsteps.

The hum became louder and you glanced around in attempt to locate the noise, but wherever you turned it sounded exactly the same. That was when you realised it was coming from inside your head. Thoughts were overpowered by the echoing drone that circled your mind like a vulture would it's prey. You fell to the ground when it became unbearable, letting out a grunt as you hit the cold tiles underneath your shivering body. There were voices first, loud and harsh against your ears. It was your Dad and your Uncle. You then heard the grumbling of the Impala's engine, muffled by a third voice. One you knew all too well- Toni. An image made it's way past the fog, what was this, some kind of vision?

"Why are you spying on us?" Your Dad pointed his gun at Toni, who smugly sat in the backseats, "Where the hell is Y/N? Oh, and what do you know about Eileen Leahy?" Toni's face tilted, "Who?" "Did you-" Uncle Dean paused to rephrase, "Did your people kill her?" "Probably," Toni smirked, "rule of thumb, if you think we killed someone. We probably did. Oh and speaking of, you do realise that by attacking me the British Men of Letters will come after you. No investigation or trial. Just death. Possibly, at the hands of Mary Winchester." Your Dad and Uncle shared a puzzled look. "The hell is that supposed to mean?" Uncle Dean pushed. "Your mother is our permanent guest." "So she's your prisoner?" Your Dad huffed. "Oh no Mary's joined the team!" Toni grinned. She was enjoying this way too much. "You're lying." Your Dad said. "Maybe." "Just because she worked with Ketch it doesn't mean she liked him." "Oh no I think they did a little more than work together." "What about Mick?" Your Dad asked, quick to change the subject. "Mick?" Toni was genuinely surprised by this, "Oh, Mick's dead. Was deemed too sentimental for the job. Rather like you two really. I suppose this mean's Y/N doesn't know? Can't wait to tell her we killed her own step-Dad."

Sam's face dropped, "Step-Dad?" "Oh, she hadn't told you? Mick married Rebecca almost ten years ago. Mick practically raised Y/N. Imagine," Toni laughed to herself, "that could have been you. Teaching her to walk, to talk, her first day of school, her last day of school-" "Stop it!" Your Dad shouted, making even Dean jump a little, "Where is she?" Toni stayed silent, but held her usual smug smile. "WHERE IS SHE?!" Toni leaned in very slowly, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

You gasped and coughed and held your head, hanging it over yourself as though you were ill. You felt shivery. So, on top of everything else that has happened, you can now...see things? Great. It was pretty terrifying, considering you had no control over these visions, but it made sense now, why the realignment hadn't worked on you. These powers must have stopped it in some way. You thought back to the vision and froze. Mick was dead... He was gone...Okay, so he wasn't your Dad and you didn't exactly think the world of him, but your Mum did. You knew it sounded silly, but he was almost a reminder of your Mum. And now he was gone...just like everyone else...

The door opened and there stood Ketch. You glanced at him, unsure what to do. "Brooks." He nodded. "Winchester." You corrected, glaring at him. He smiled an unreadable smile and you noticed Mary behind him. At first you were uplifted at the sight of her, but soon remembered what you'd heard. It was true. Her eyes were cold and almost void of recognition. "Get her, and we'll be on our way." Ketch ordered.

Mary did as told and headed for you. Her walk was militarian and each footstep turned the tiles into war-zones. "Get up." She ordered. "Well, aren't you going to do as Grandmother asks?" Ketch smiled. You were smart enough to wait for an escape rather than to make one, so you stood and let her grasp your arm. She tugged you along, down hallways and through doors. Doors that were once locked for her and opened for you. ________________________________________________________________

"Mary," You dared to open your mouth, wanting some kind of a reaction from her that showed recognition, "do you even know who I am?" When it had been your mother she forgot who you were. Mary didn't have that expression yet. Her eyes were cold, but they were almost resisting something, something your Mum didn't have a chance to resist. "Of course I know who you are," Mary hissed, "I'm not an idiot."

You were all stood outside the Bunker, Ketch was fiddling with the door, a few trained Men of Letters were stood around him and Mary was holding you at gunpoint. For some reason, it didn't feel as terrifying as you'd think. This wasn't the first time you'd been threatened like-so and something told you it wouldn't be your last either. The door finally opened and Ketch signalled for you all to follow, his sly gaze lingering on you. Mary grabbed you, her arm snaking round your neck and the other pressing the barrel of a gun to your temple. She had a tight grip and there was no way you were getting out of it at that moment.

You spoke up, but only so Mary could hear you, "What are we doing?" "Shut up!" She nudged the gun as a reminder and started leading you down the steps of the bunker.

"Positions everyone, Mary take Y/N round that way and don't come out until needed. If she tries to escape just shoot her. She makes good leverage, but she's not that useful." Ketch ordered. Nice to know, you thought.

Okay. Scratch not being scared because now Ketch had given it the all clear there was a very good chance that Mary would shoot you.

Mary ducked down the steps out of site of the main room and dragged you with her, "Don't try anything." "Wouldn't dream of it, Gran." You sighed, feeling her arm tighten around your neck a little. After a few minutes of silence the bunker door re-opened and you heard Uncle De, "So, we're clear? You call Ketch and tell him if he wants to see you alive he gets his prissy ass over here."

Presumably, he was talking to Toni. You thought about that, the flashback vision thing, and wondered if you could use whatever these powers were to escape. Only, it didn't seem to be the sort of thing you could control, but rather just something that happened every now and again, whether you liked it or not.

"Interestingly, his prissy arse is already here." Ketch said in his irritatingly posh voice. You cringed and rolled your eyes, but still remained very aware of Mary's hold over you. "Lady Bevell," Ketch continued, "would you mind disarming them?" Something must have sparked at that moment as gun shots began to ring out. Cries of pain, cries for help and strangely quiet intermittent moments followed. Mary peered round the corner of the wall and you couldn't see a thing. However, in the slight loosen of the grip you seized the opportunity and ducked away, spinning on the spot and readying yourself for an attack.

Without a moments hesitation, Mary aimed at you and fired.

________________________________________________________________

Dean's POV

I watched Sammy, waiting for the all-clear to go. When he gestured I looped round the back of the walls, gun at the ready. I shot one dead and kept going, ears open and eyes alert. When I saw Ketch with his back to me I raced over and snatched the gun from his grip, holding it against his temple. “Hey!" I snapped, trying to stop him from trying anything.

Sam stepped forward from the safety of the walls, still dragging Toni with him. She had a disappointed scowl on her face. "Where's Y/N? And where's our Mom?!" He demanded.

I pushed, jerking the gun on his head, "Where are they?!" Ketch did his usual smirk before he opened his mouth to start talking, but he didn't even get a word in as footsteps sounded. I glanced up to-

What?

No...

This didn't make any sense....

Mom was there, gun in hand. But she was gripping hold of Y/N as though Y/N was...one of them? Her arm was round her in the same way Sam's was around Toni. Like a kidnapping and human shield all in one. This was leverage. "Don't move." Mom said, glaring at us. I frowned and caught Y/N's gaze. She was staring right at me, trying to get across something I couldn't translate through a stare. She looked scared. Sam, who had his back to them, said "Perfect timing, Mom..." but he trailed off when he met my confused gaze, shooting a questioning frown back. When Ketch tried to duck from gunpoint, I raised the gun and said, "You heard her." "I was talking to you."

Moms' words took a second to go in. I looked at her, lost, "Mom?"

That's when I noticed the bullet wound on Y/N's shoulder, fresh blood seeping through her shirt and her limp arm. She wasn't just scared, she was hurt.

Mom fired, the bullet ringing out as it marked a hole in the wall. A deliberate miss. In my shock, ketch leapt from gunpoint and took the guns back from me. Stumbling, I watched as Sam flinched and backed up.

"I really wouldn't move, she will shoot you." Ketch warned, pointing a gun at each of us. Mom's face was empty of emotion as she strode towards Sammy, taking the gun from him. As she did so, she let go of Y/N, practically shoving her into her Dad. Y/N winced in pain and raised her now free other hand to her wound. Sammy's eyes landed on her bloodied shoulder and I felt his guilt. “Hey, hey, you okay?” Sammy’s gentle voice consoled his kid.

Toni stepped away from us, "Mummy always was a talented hunter. Just somewhat confused about obeying orders. Only this time," Toni took a pause to look Y/N in the eye, "the treatment will work." I put two and two together and realised that must have been what happened to Y/N's Mom. Some kind of issue with this brainwashing thing...or something along those lines. God I wanted to kick all their asses for what they did to that poor kid.

"What did you do to her?" Sam asked, nodding at Mom. I could already see him trying to come up with a cure in his head. Straight to the logistics of it, as always. He had a hand on Y/N and took a step in front of her. I was frozen.

"And I suppose you've heard," Ketch added, "American Hunters are a dying breed." Toni began to walk after him, back to her pack, but halted when he turned around, gun aimed right at her. "Where do you think you're going?" He spat. "Ketch?" The betrayal in her voice rang out. "Remember at Kendricks how they all taught us that we were expendable...that wasn't idle chat."

"Mom?" I finally stammered out, willing myself to take a step forward, "look at me. It's us...please" I felt my voice beginning to shake as she did nothing but point her guns and stare at us like you would look at a passing train that wasn't yours to catch. "Your bunker is an excellent fortress," Ketch said, ignoring me entirely, "and an even better tomb. So we've rejiggered the locks, we've shut off the water and the pumps responsible for your oxygen will run out in two...maybe three...days," he smiled, "you dying in here. It's almost...poetic."

I ran for the door the moment they’d turned their backs, racing up the steps and leaping for the handle. It wouldn't budge, but I tried again anyway. In anger I kicked at it, crying out. This can't be it. We can't die like this. Not after everything.

The lights turned to a doomsday red, the humming of the oxygen pumps lowered into reverse and I stared in dismay at the darkness of the bunker.

Part 22: Promise

Masterlist I do not own these gifs (Tag list after cut )

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whatdoyouexpectthistime · 5 years ago

Text

MJS Aftermath - SIX FEET Part 2

Both Ishigami and Kaga were more than excited to see the figure on the other side of the door, leaping at him with reckless abandon, but Miho slumped against the door frame. Jazz appeared behind her, biting her lip as Subaru fought the puppies off to wrap Miho in a tight embrace.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair, shoving the foil covered casserole he had in one hand at Jazz.

This time, Miho didn’t cry, even if Subaru did.

“It doesn’t have coriander in it, does it?”

“You love coriander!” he attempted to joke, but the look on Jazz’s face told him he’d made a terrible blunder.

“No,” Miho disagreed quietly. “That’s Seiji.”

“Oh,” Subaru dropped, cringing a second but he had a smile affixed when he finally brought Miho to arm’s length.

“It’s fine,” she smiled back. “Everyone’s in a bit of a tizzy at the moment.”

“Except you,” he noted a little quizzically. “The very picture of calm and collected.”

“How many times has he nearly died?” she asked, turning and heading into the living area with the pups on her heels. “Every other week, really, right?”

Glancing sideways at Jazz, Subaru followed, shrugging awkwardly. It was clear to Jazz that Subaru didn’t have the words, not to comfort Miho, or himself. True, Subaru and Goto always bickered, but their actions had proven time and time again they were best friends.

“Tea? Coffee?” Miho chirped, obviously attempting to change Subaru’s grim expression.

“Yeah,” he answered ambiguously, scrutinising the house’s interior as he trailed Miho and Jazz into the kitchen.

“Yeah what?”

“What happened here?” he replied, only looking more confused. “This place is spotless.”

Another blunder for anyone who knew Goto was a bit on the untidy side.

“Are you suggesting my home is usually a mess?” Miho sniffed.

“Well, no,” he stumbled. “But there’s clean, and then there’s I could eat off the tiles clean.”

“We’ve been keeping busy,” Jazz clarified.

“Because work isn’t enough to keep us occupied apparently,” Miho dropped sarcastically.

“Should you even be wandering around?” he then asked of Jazz, who while obviously pregnant did not seem to be in any discomfort.

“Being pregnant isn’t a disability, you know,” she grunted, then dropped her voice. “Unlike being an idiot.”

“I heard that,” Subaru grated sourly, but his brows lifted when Miho let out a chuckle.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think this comedy routine was for me.”

Both her friends fell silent.

“Oh, cut it out will you?” she huffed, throwing up her hands in annoyance. “Come on, Subaru, you’ve known Seiji far longer than me, so you should know this is bullshit.”

“Um…” he squirmed. “I’ve seen the evidence, Miho, the forensics…”

“Yeah?” she snorted. “You know who saw the evidence for Daisetsu’s ‘death’? The forensics? I did, and we all know how that ended.”

Knowingly, and not very discreetly, Jazz rolled her eyes to Subaru.

“Cut that out,” Miho snapped. “He’s not dead, and that’s all there is to it.”

She left them both standing in the kitchen a little bewildered by her curtness, but Jazz eventually let out a heavy sigh.

“I tried to talk to her about funeral arrangements, but she just shuts me down,” she explained solemnly. “I get where she is coming from, what with Daisetsu’s faked death, but if Captain Ishigami and the whole of Public Safety is sure, then…”

Helplessly, she shrugged.

“She doesn’t want me to comfort her,” she exhaled, her eyes misting over a little, and Subaru drew closer. “I don’t know how to comfort her, and I’ve always known.”

“We just be here,” he said, offering his arms and an awkward but honest hug. “So, when she figures out what she needs, we can be there to give it.”

People came and went, but it was the arrival of Goto’s parents and brother that complicated the situation more. Under any other circumstance, the presence of family might have brought some solace, but Miho was… as Miho was – forward about her opinion.

“I’m not interested in burying an empty casket,” she declared stubbornly.

Haruka looked tearily helpless.

Shinichi scowled.

Issei became angry.

“I thought you loved him!” he barked, and Miho’s face darkened in response.

“I love him, present tense,” she snapped. “And it’s because I love him, know him, trust him, that I can’t and won’t believe he’d be stupid enough to get killed.”

“But Miho,” Shinichi beseeched, and in an unusual sign of physical affection he attempted to hug her.

Miho dodged.

“No, Dad,” she argued.

“You’ve always known his work was dangerous,” Shinichi continued, his tone settling back into something gruffer. “As much as we might want this not to be true, there are things beyond our control, beyond Seiji’s control.”

“You go,” Miho told them, nodding emphatically. “I understand. If you believe this, then you need to find closure, but I will not put another box in the ground.”

The door slammed, Kaga and Ishigami lucky to scoot through with tails intact.

In the bedroom, Miho paced back and forth until her eyes came to rest on the pinstripe suit laid out across the grey duvet.

Haruka had picked it out. Even though there wasn’t a body as such to put in it, she’d felt it symbolic of his professionalism, of his nature, and an important part of letting him go. Kaga and Ishigami, however, thought the suit made perfect bedding, and curled up together to watch their mother scowl.

“What the hell, Miho?” Issei charged, bursting into the room. “Where do you get off talking to Mum like that?”

His eyes were red – he had been crying, but now he was just angry.

“You think you’re hurting? What about us?” he snapped, spittle peppering the air between them.

“He’s not dead, Issei!” Miho shouted, right into his face, then pointed at Goto’s suit. “It’s empty, you see that? EMPTY.”

“Because what’s left of him is locked up in a mortuary!” Issei fired back, not backing down – but that only drew him into striking range.

Redder still, Issei looked absolutely shocked with Miho’s palm print emblazoned across his left cheek.

“Your brother would be heartbroken you’ve so little faith in him,” she hissed, her eyes wild and her tone low, seething. “Go pick a casket, choose music and scripture and flowers to lay at a hollow grave, but do not think for a moment I will partake in such a farce.”

She moved so quickly her puppies didn’t have a chance to catch up. Bursting from the bedroom, she stalked to the front door past a bewildered Shinichi and Haruka and snatched her jacket.

After stomping several blocks, Miho hailed a taxi, glad she left emergency money secured in the inside pocket of her coat. It was enough to get her to Station, where Agasa raised an eyebrow at her in recognition. The death of a police officer, regardless of what department they belonged to, did not remain a secret for very long, and though Agasa might have seen Goto and Miho only a handful of times – if that – Second Unit had raised more than a few glasses in honour of a fallen comrade and a good man.

“Mrs. Goto,” he greeted softly, as Miho sat herself down on a stool at the bar. “What can I get you?”

“Enough whiskey to make it all go away,” she replied, not questioning how he knew her, just tapping the bar with her fingertips expectantly.

Agasa knew well enough when to argue with a customer and when to let them drink. At least if she was there, he could keep an eye on her, call in backup if things got a bit too ugly. He placed the bottle down beside her, though it was only a third full, then a glass.

“Don’t go too overboard,” he warned her softly, and in response she grunted and poured for herself.

As she drank, she muttered, but she was not looking for a response from Agasa or those who came and went.

“Shouldn’t have done that,” she murmured, shaking her head.

Hitting Issei like that – she knew she’d done a bad thing and would have to apologise.

“How can I convince them?” she sighed, staring into her glass but quickly turning her head when she sensed a presence close behind her.

“Convince who of what, Princess?” Baba enquired in his usual happy tone.

“You know what,” she replied dryly, taking another sip as he sat down beside her. “You know everything.”

“It is true I know a lot of things,” he smiled, waving to Agasa before pointing at Miho’s glass. “Not quite everything, though.”

Working with Baba at the agency had proven both a blessing and a curse at times. He had this infuriating way of being jovial no matter what happened, this ability to see the upside in even the darkest of situations. It could be both uplifting and excruciating at the same time. There was also the fact that he had made himself available on and off through Miho’s single years as a physical comfort: the best kind of friend with benefits.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him, still not looking into his face.

She wasn’t sure she could stand to see the sparkle in his eyes or the playfulness on his lips.

“You know this is a police bar, right?” she added.

Baba shrugged.

“I don’t know why I should be concerned,” he smirked. “I’m a law-abiding citizen; besides, I don’t think Detective Ayase meets the height requirement to get in.”

Miho might have snorted, but the air in her lungs was lethargic, morose.

“Come on, Princess,” he crooned, giving her arm a gentle nudge with his, as Agasa put a tumbler down in front of him. “I tracked you down because I thought you’d have given me a call by now.”

“I’ve been a little preoccupied,” she pointed out, emptying her glass and pouring herself another, then one for Baba.

“Yes, yes, funerals – so many little details to plan for,” he agreed, one hand moving in an animated way as he spoke. “Eulogies and floral arrangements and boxes for burial.”

Now, Miho looked at him, her eyes narrowed. But she said nothing, studying him, searching him. What he said was not meant to hurt her; no, he was teasing her because…

“Tell me,” she demanded in a cold hiss, turning her body to his. “Tell me I’m right.”

“Right about?” he poked, obviously enjoying the little game, pushing her because he indeed knew her well enough he knew her limits.

“I will fucking deck you, Mitsunari,” she growled, leaning forward and baring her teeth. “Tell me I am right. He isn’t dead.”

“Hot damn, you’re sexy when you get angry,” he grinned. “You really ought to wear more leather.”

Limit.

He probably could have dodged, but he didn’t, so when Miho grabbed him by the tie and dragged him off his barstool, he slid off easily.

“Riding crop, too,” Baba added, allowing himself to be dragged to a booth and shoved into it.

“Cut the shit,” she hissed, dropping in opposite him. “Playtime is over.”

“A little birdy told me something fascinating,” he admitted finally, triumphant. “Did you know that DNA identification of burnt bone can be pretty reliable?”

Eyes sharp, Miho brain raced ahead to find Baba’s point before he voiced it.

“In extremely bad cases though, if someone was to use, say, white phosphorus or thermite, for example, bones don’t leave much at all – no nuclear DNA – and even mitochondrial profiles are sporadic in their reliability at best.”

“The gang he infiltrated had access to thermite and white phosphorus?” Miho blinked.

Of course, she knew Public Safety worked dangerous cases chasing really dangerous people, but for criminals to have and use dangerous chemicals like those put a whole new perspective on it.

“Maybe,” Baba mused noncommittally, “but I think the point is more that it’s highly unlikely any remains burned to that extent could be positively identified.”

Miho licked her lips.

She knew better than to ask about Baba’s sources, and knew through experience – even if she didn’t know how – that his information was always accurate.

“Captain Ishigami wouldn’t, he wouldn’t tell me it’s him if he wasn’t sure,” she exhaled to herself. “He wouldn’t accept the death of a subordinate if there was any doubt.”

“You know the guy that well?” Baba posed. “I mean, these Public Safety guys lie for a living, right?”

“To me? About that?” Miho wondered, her throat dry.

Trembling hands took her mobile phone from her pocket.

“That I don’t know the answer to,” he admitted, leaning a little closer to see what Miho was texting. “Going straight to the top, huh?”

“No, Namba’s out of town,” Miho murmured, as she fired off her text message to Liana, “but Captain Ishigami will do.”

“I wouldn’t want to be him,” Baba smirked swirling the drink he hadn’t touched yet. “You have a plan?”

“Yeah,” Miho rumbled, slipping from the barstool and throwing a fist full of money for her drinks on the counter. “I’m going to get really, really angry.”

Rationality still existed, Miho felt it tugging her in the opposite direction to her destination, but she ignored it. Her rage was a blaze bringing warmth back to the numbness of her flesh, and she allowed it to fill her to overflowing before she arrived at the restaurant Liana had unwittingly revealed as the location of Miho’s target.

“Miho?” Liana blinked, as Miho stalked between the tables – definitely a woman on a mission.

“Mrs. Goto,” Ishigami added, seeming surprised but quick to rise to his feet. “Are you alright?”

“Out of respect for our friendship and your personal and professional relationship with Seiji,” Miho began, her tone an ice-pick: cold, pointed, “I’m going to give you the opportunity to step out with me and have this conversation.”

Understandably, Ishigami looked surprised, but Liana appeared downright shocked and both their mouths hung open too long for Miho’s liking.

“Very well,” Miho grunted. “Explain the conviction you have Seiji is dead, when the extreme heat you’ve admitted rendered the remains you found to nothing but bones?”

People looked in the direction of the standing pair as they remained facing one another, though the volume of their voices was not especially loud.

“I’m no scientist, Captain,” Miho went on to fill the void once more, “or a weapon’s expert, but to reach the kind of temperatures needed to reduce human bone to the condition you found them in, in an open space like that warehouse, you’d need some seriously restricted firepower.”

“Where did you get this idea from?” Ishigami asked finally, his expression a good approximation of concerned.

“You mean, how do I know you grossly overstated the certainty of my husband’s death?” she snapped, the crack of a whip that silenced everything else in the restaurant.

“Miho,” Liana whispered, reaching for her hand, but Miho yanked it away.

“Look into his eyes, Liana,” Miho growled, pointing into Ishigami’s face. “Imagine Seiji is telling you your husband is dead, all the while you’re holding evidence it isn’t true in your hand.”

“I know this is very difficult for you,” Ishigami attempted, watching the maitre’d cautiously approach in his peripheral vision. “No one wants Lieut..”

“I am his WIFE!” she roared, and people at nearby tables flinched at the violence of her retort, the rawness of her emotion. “Difficult is an understatement I will not bear when you know he’s alive.”

“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you t…” the maitre’d interrupted, but the freeze of his jaw when Miho’s eyes fell upon him made it clear he saw death in them.

“Tell me where he is,” Miho demanded on little more than a breath, an imperative she exhaled into Ishigami’s face. “Give me the truth.”

“I can see, Mrs. Goto, the truth is too much for you at present,” Ishigami said evenly, but Liana saw him adjust his glasses – noted and filed it. “Grief is…”

“I will not mourn the living,” Miho snarled, blind to the much larger man who had come to back the maitre’d.

“Ma’am,” came a firmer, warning voice.

Miho tilted her head in some form of acknowledgement but maintained eye contact with Ishigami.

“I will never forget this pain,” she hissed, gaze like razor-wire. “And I will never forget your part in it.”

Before she could be manhandled out of the restaurant, Miho turned on her heels and strode out, to bystanders a vengeful force of wrathful energy.

(GUEST WRITER @BelXsar! Scene RPed)

There was a full moment of silence, then another, and another, before the interior of the restaurant finally started to return to its former activity before the human whirlwind that was Miho Fujisawa Goto had blown in and then just as dramatically swept out. The restaurant staff resumed their former duties, and the other patrons’ gazes went back to their dining companions, while Liana studied her husband with hers, even as he just as studiously avoided it. They had just been contemplating what to have for dessert when Miho had arrived, but it was clear that any appetite for sweets had vanished just as abruptly. With a sidelong glance towards the discarded dessert menus lying on the table, Captain Hideki Ishigami emptied his water glass, then signalled their waiter and coolly asked for the cheque. The bill paid, he got up, and his wife followed him out of the restaurant.

His hand reached out for hers on the street outside, and Liana took it, noting his grasp was on the cool side as usual but his grip a bit tighter. They strode silently, hand in hand, to where their car was parked, and he opened the door for her before sliding into the driver’s seat. As the car pulled into traffic, he still had yet to meet his wife’s gaze which had remained mostly fixed on him all the while.

On the silent drive home, Liana pulled out her phone and tapped a quick text to Jazz Mann Akiwa, hoping their shared friend would update her on what was going on when clearly her husband had no desire to do so.

Ishigami remained silent even as they arrived home. It was after they entered their flat, taken off their shoes, hung up their coats, and he seemed to be heading towards the bathroom, that Liana finally quickened her stride and cut in front of her husband, putting her hand against the wall to block his path.

Enough was enough.

She had given him the appropriate discretion while they had been in public, despite the maelstrom of questions running through her mind. Now, in the privacy of their own home, she could remain silent no longer.

“Hideki,” she said quietly, softly, yet no less firmly. “What is going on?”

Her dark blue eyes sought out his grey ones, intent.

His hand was half-way to his glasses before he actually stopped himself.

“I thought perhaps I would take a shower,” he explained, as if as much was obvious. “I have an early meeting tomorrow and will not have time in the morning.”

If he knew what she was actually getting at – and the man wasn’t a moron, so he knew – there was not a single hint of it in his expression.

Liana tilted her head slightly and gave him a look, one eyebrow raised. “Please don’t insult me, and I won’t return the favor. You know very well what I mean.”

With practised zen, Ishigami’s expression didn’t so much as twitch; still, when he spoke again, there was at least a little emotion in his tone.

“It is understandable Mrs. Goto would not wish to believe Lieutenant Goto is gone,” he explained, “and regrettable her desire seems to have manifested so strongly. You are right to be concerned; I shall organise for a counsellor to touch base with her tomorrow.”

Liana’s eyebrows drew together a little. “As passionate as Miho can be, she’s not a woman prone to hysterics. And I think you appreciate that, Hideki. This is not just a grieving widow deep in denial and going off the deep end. She said something about extreme heat, and remains being reduced to nothing. Which you didn’t deny. You’re deflecting. Whatever it is, I think Miho has proven in the past she can handle it, any truth, rather than a bunch of lies. As Lieutenant Goto’s wife, she deserves that much, at least.”

Responding seemed a little difficult for Ishigami – not because he didn’t know what to say, but because saying it to his inquisitive wife would not be easy.

“You know I cannot discuss an ongoing investigation,” he told her gently, his brows lowering just a little bit.

He wasn’t without empathy.

“Doing so could put further lives at risk, and that is the very reason rules and protocols exist.”

“Then she’s not wrong.”

Liana’s words were murmured to herself as much as her reticent husband, said in confirmation more than any triumph. She looked back up at Ishigami. “You don’t have to tell her any details. But can’t you at least indicate you’re still just trying to confirm the identification of the remains, and that it’s still an ‘ongoing investigation’? If you tell her to keep things to herself, she will. She understands the importance of discretion, as much for her husband’s safety as the case itself. Just don’t add to her trauma, Hideki. You know she’s not someone you want on the warpath against you, and that’s what’s going to happen if you keep lying to her and suggesting she’s crazy.”

His wife calling him a liar was something he knew he just had to weather. Despite his absolute devotion to the job, it hurt no less.

“I do not believe she is crazy,” he said carefully. “Grief takes a great many forms and denial can be a natural part of the mourning process.”

This wasn’t anything Liana didn’t already know.

“If I lost you,” he continued, hazarding to raise his hand toward her cheek, “I would not wish to believe it, either; I would do anything to undo it… But I cannot give this to Mrs. Goto, or to you, no matter how much we both want to alleviate her suffering.”

She looked down for a moment, shaking her head briefly before taking a breath and looking back up at her husband.

“Things don’t always have to be zero sum, you know. I believe rules exist for the spirit of such protocol rather that the strict letter of them. You don’t want to compromise an ongoing investigation, I understand that. So does Miho. But in this case, especially for her — and I’m not just saying that because she’s my friend; I think she’s proven herself in situations like this –, I think you can maintain the integrity of the investigation while not having to deceive her at the same time. Rules are a dead and static thing, made by humans to serve the needs of a situation. And by the same token, situations can change, and so we can be flexible to adapt while remaining true to overall protocol. It’s not ‘either or’ in this case, Hideki, you must be able to see that. Things need not be robotic; in fact, I think something as dynamic as a complicated investigation is best served by anything but.”

Her look was beseeching as much as it was resolute. She wanted, needed, him to understand that there was more than one alternative, and indeed, a better one existed than what dead, strict rules dictated.

His hand had reached her cheek, his thumb had been lightly grazing the skin as she spoke, but the moment she’d mentioned his way was ‘robotic’, his arm sank back to his side.

“You are operating under the assumption I do not know how to effectively perform my job,” he stated, and indeed, this time he sounded more mechanical, “that I am intentionally wounding Mrs. Goto. Please do not forget our duty is not without risk – risk Lieutenant Goto has always accepted as a necessary evil in the pursuit of people who want to destroy our way of life (writes a presidential speech). Lieutenant Goto’s death will not be in vain provided the integrity of this investigation is not compromised, and in time, Mrs. Goto’s pain will diminish.”

His stoic mask was now firmly affixed, a sure sign to his wife he had been affronted. It was rare he showed anger, whether he felt it or not; it was far more common for him to shut down.

Which is what he did – and before she could speak again he had stepped away.

“I am going to take a shower now,” he asserted.

“Is that part of the fake eulogy you’re going to give?” she threw at his retreating back before she could stop herself, her sarcastic side finding voice in her frustration.

She almost wanted to throw something at the firmly closing bathroom door, but knew it would accomplish nothing but a momentary childish satisfaction of noise to punctuate her ire. She thought she understood her husband enough to get beyond the “cyborg” persona his colleagues often referred to him as, but now she wondered how much she was really able to understand him in the dire situations when she felt she should most.

She bit her lip, and after only a moment’s thought, grabbed her phone to text a quick thanks to Jazz for what she was able to surmise by now. She followed this with a quick text to Miho:

“I believe you. I’m sorry about him.”

Liana didn’t want to go more into it than that, over what was really essentially not that secure a channel. She hoped her friend understood the “him” was her infuriatingly stubborn husband.

Liana stood halfway between the hallway and her bedroom, wondering whether she should get ready for bed or go to Miho to apologize to and try to comfort, and help, her friend. She doubted if she would get much further with Hideki tonight, though a tenacious part of her wanted to try, as well as to make him understand she was not against him, but trying to help him as well as her friend and Lieutenant Goto. Or if it would be more helpful to the situation as a whole to go to discuss things over with her friend. A chime from her phone alerting her to an incoming text helped make up her mind.

“I’m going to need more ice cream.”

It was Jazz, and no doubt Miho had chowed her way through all available potential sources to cool her ire.

“Will hijack an ice cream van and be right over. Preferences?”

“Surprise me.”

PART THREE

#hlitf #her love in the force #seiji goto #ishigami #soma #kaga #kurosawa #shinonome #voltage #voltage fanfiction #hlitf fanficiton #angst #drama #miho #jazz #liana

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klarkkent71 · 5 years ago

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Back To The Heart

I still got articles to write about the Army 10 miler and my visit to Washington but this is my poetry collection for the month which was all pulled from the heart. I’ve been through a lot lately but will definitely increase my content

This Series is titled “Back to The Heart”

Untitled

Feeling trapped in my mind just appreciating the lesson

I thought I had it all figured out but the mistake I learned was a blessing

I never thought ill see the day where I feel all alone stress

But the heavens work opposite ways sometimes you get the class after the test

I’m grateful nonetheless

Over

Pushed to the edge I felt I had no choice

Only two options free up my mind or my heart

How can I be any kind of lover If I’m not mentally there

My mind needed to roam free

-----

I didn’t announce anything I just snapped and felt free

But letting go of what I valued the most didn’t uplift me

Now I’m feeling blank because my pride just tempt me

Neutral is the feeling I’m not overall happy nor empty

I’m just thinking, trying out thoughts and putting them into rhyme

Thinking back on moments of happier times

Picture of me smiling sometimes I hid my truly feeling

Facades at it’s best my body present but in my mind, I wasn’t there

RIP Botham

You was a loyal child of God who didn’t deserve your fate

Now you rest in peace in the realms of heaven’s gate

Departed from your human shell on your couch eating ice cream

Now this story just feels to unreal like one big dream

The only answer everyone wants to know is why

Another senseless killing where a mom, dad, and community have to cry

Was the cop to tired or distracted to even pay attention

Racist tweets and texts in her past let's not forget to mention

And a police department that will do anything just to smear his name

Trying to use marijuana found in the house as a justified claim

When it was her who entered the wrong place and pulled the trigger

No aid or first aid care that she knew just another dead nigga

Forgiveness is shown by the family both verbally and through a hug

The judge told her to lift her head and gave her a bible out of love.

I just wish you didn’t have to die for nothing

First Look

Seeing you in person made it all come back

Your skin was glowing more than ever

I felt like I was living in an R&B track

But time came and I went and got on the plane

Wishing I was planted more in your presence but that’s the way life goes again

No exclusive tours or going out

Just good convo and relaxing on the couch

To me those moments mean the most

Untitled

13,000 feet in the sky and my gaze was stuck in the clouds

Thinking to myself that I hope I’m making my ancestors proud

Wondering how life would be If my granny and gramps was here right now

It’s crazy how I’m always sharing personnel experiences of seeing and speaking to the dead through dreams which I feel right now

Manifesting thoughts that I share in a verse

My ambition to big right now and I’m in no hurry for the hurst

But I’m in search of wisdom, purpose, and more

Slowly separating myself from this materialistic pull that life has in store

My view is what’s the point of having it when it has no long term effect

To me, life mean more when I stare myself in the mirror one last time between me and my reflection I want to see respect

I want to know at no point that I never sold my people or soul

Judas is far from my DNA I’m not selling out the chosen one for gold

Collided Thoughts From The Heart

If I tell you I love you I mean it

If I tell you about my vivid dreaming you’re special and more

If I share my fears I trust you to keep it

If I go the distance to see you when we're worlds apart, to me you’re everything and more

----

I reach out and text first cherish it because it’s tough for me to do

Introverted and with a mask it’s hard to tell when I’m really feeling blue

I struggle to cave into pride and admit when I’m wrong

Wanting to text you first to say I’m sorry and let’s talk, but my out image is a façade and the same song

Marginalized state of mind

The same reason we as blacks fell behind

Not valuing self, most think we only see tits and behind

When brothers are conscience and more work and can see you for your mind

Do you ever miss yourself

Do you ever feel ignored when crying for help

Screaming in your mind just hoping one person will listen

But you vent to them and they bomb you with their problems so they think you’re tripping

Or have people in your life that you constantly help for God Sake

But the moment you can’t help you’re considered fake

Kiss From Heaven

I missed you and love you more than anything in the world

The alarm went off and I had to go home

I hugged you like you meant everything in the world

Our eyes locked and it was so natural to just kiss you bye

If a kiss from heaven came down I could just imagine how it will feel

Turbulence(Words Directly From the Heart)

I want to text first and say how wrong I am but pride being the bitch she is won’t let me

Even better I want to talk it out but I’m self-conscience and I know you won’t forgive me

We was on a plane of love just riding through the skies

Then the high of love hit us with reality and we saw our true selves as time went by

We want from love and constantly wanting to be around the other

To separate rooms & no talking, we couldn’t stand each other

Then times weighed in to hard and I hooked up my parachute

Thinking the best thing was just to jump out midflight and just abandon you

The ride got shaky and I didn’t explain nothing just stood up and jumped out the door

Not considerate of feeling alternate means getting over the turbulence I didn’t explore

It was smooth sailing through the sky but I enjoyed the view looking down

But it hurt like shit when reality hit and I hit the ground

You don’t see how small the world is until you’re high up

And you realize how easy something things can be fixed if both partners got their communication skills up

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kakosindustries · 6 years ago

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The Live Episode from February 10th, 2019 in Phoenix, Arizona. CW: References to Euthanasia/Suicide.

[[Kakos Bells]]

Intro: What you are about to hear is positive, honest, and uplifting entertainment.

[[Guitar Intro]]

Greetings. Welcome. Take your seats. Feel free to get a drink at any time because you’re going to need it. It’s really best that you stay lubricated for this.

Just so you know, we are now recording this show so that we may better market to you in the future and exploit your every weakness, so if you don’t want what you have to say to go on the Internet, then please keep your mouth shut. Laughter is fine. Screams of terror are fine. Coughing and sneezing are frowned upon. Talking to your buddy about something totally unrelated is a capital crime.

I have just received word that the outside world as we knew it ended moments ago. It is chaos, carnage, death, and destruction out there. The fortunate news is that we are all still alive. That will remain fortunate news right up until we have to start eating each other. In that case, then the people who died instantly above will be the lucky ones.

Tip your bartenders well because money is meaningless now. Everything from here on out is social currency and sexual favors.

My name is Corin Deeth III. I am CEO of Kakos Industries, the sponsor of tonight’s event. You see, even though the world as we know it has ended, Kakos Industries, the company that specializes in helping its clients to Do Evil Better, will continue on. We will continue to do Evil and to advance Evil, and to help everyone everywhere, at least everyone who’s left, to do Evil. Kakos Industries has its innumerable tendrils in everything. From technological advancements, to new techniques for economic exploitation, to the feeling you have when you’re fucking someone you like, but they like like you and you’re really not sure you can keep fucking them with the constant guilt of obviously caring less. We help the world to do Evil. Additionally, if you were going to ghost your date after tonight… whoops.

And that’s where you come in, guests. You see, we need you. Now that the vast majority of humanity is either exterminated or in the process of being exterminated, we need you. Without humanity, there can be no Evil. Nature sets itself apart from humanity in its total and complete neutrality. With humanity, good and Evil can exist. So we need some of you miserable bastards to stick around to stay miserable. It’s really an honor, if you think about it. And the price of admission? Just five dollars? Eight at the door? To be given the privilege of rebooting society? That’s pretty nice.

[[Heat Lightning]]

Quick FAQ:

What has caused the apocalypse? We do not know at this time. It currently seems as though it was a lot of things all at once. Or one thing many times. We’re looking into it and we will bring you details as we get them.

Who caused the apocalypse? Was it the guy we’re thinking of? No. It was us. We did it. We caused it. And as soon as we figure out how, we’ll brag about how we did it. No one has paid us to take blame. Not even with luxury apocalypse bunkers. We already have those. We did it. Just for fun. It was all us.

What does this mean for my loved ones? They are so fucking dead. So fucking dead. We hope that you brought the people you like the most here because everyone else is just fucking toast at this point. And if they’re not, then they are in danger of being crushed, impaled, dissolved, or eaten at this very moment, and I’m not an actuary, but they likely won’t survive long.

Can I leave to try to save my family and friends? No. We’ve locked the bunker, and we are all in here permanently. Take a look around you. Take in your surroundings. These are your new digs for the rest of your life. Take a look at the people in the room. These are your new best friends. These are your new enemies. These are the grandparents to your grandchildren. Assuming this apocalypse takes that long to work its way out. If there’s no radiation or renegade AI, we might be out of here in a year or two.

What about these people that keep filtering into the room? Aren’t they breaking the immersion? Well, those people have come here through the huge series of access tunnels that connect all basement spaces like this one. They escaped the apocalypse at the same time as you, but they just got here a little later. Nothing to worry about.

Was this whole thing planned? How did you know to bring us down here? Another thoughtful question. Yes. Probably. We’re still working out the details of exactly what we did, but I can assure you it was very intentional. Everything we do is very intentional. And well planned.

Is my student loan debt really gone? Can it be true? Have no fear. We will find a way to keep you in debtors’ hell forever.

Other important rules. You have to ride the electricity generating bike if you want a turn with the bluetooth speaker. Well that about covers it.

[[Unpointedness]]

Take a look under your seat. You will have a card under there outlining your new social class here in the apocalypse and your expectations. Some of us will have to work with our hands, others will work with our brains. Some will collect the muck slime, others will prepare the muck slime, but we will all eat the muck slime. Who’s a mage? Just kidding, that’s not a real class. Who is a soldier? You will need to do violence on our behalf, especially keeping the eventual tide of monsters at bay. We thank you in advance for your sacrifice. If I were you, I would tune out the rest of what I’m saying, and start eyeing up what you can use from around the room as a weapon.

The janitors will be responsible for cleaning all of the floors and rooms, and also the people who get so depressed that they can’t shower. Who is the scribe? Please begin writing down everything I say. In fact, if you could write down everything I’ve already said, that would be super.

After the show, we will have two of you fight for our entertainment. Please look at your new social class cards. Who’s a fighter? Oh, three of you? It’s thunderdome then.

Who is the golden child? You are now the luckiest, most talented, and most successful among us, and we will all love and resent you.

Who got bad joke recipient? You will now have to listen to all of the jokes that we as a subterranean society can come up with, and laugh at every single one of them. Even the bad ones. Even the ones that you personally disagree with.

Who is the werewolf? Just kidding. We’ll all close our eyes later for that part.

Also, there will be no elections. I am in charge. The end. Except for mine inspector. We will continue to elect mine inspector. It’s a critical position.

Now that we have the ground rules laid, it’s time to take part in the apocalypse pledge of allegiance. Hands over hearts. Repeat after me. We promise to Do Evil at all times, except when that Evil might mean the extinction of the species, without which Evil cannot continue. We hereby promise to walk that fine line and Do Evil Better. Amen, brother. Thank you for doing that. It is legally, as well as morally binding.

So how many of you were Shareholders in Kakos Industries before tonight? (some sort of response) Well, you are all shareholders now, which means that you can rest easily knowing that your contributions have helped to promote the spread of Evil everywhere in the world. Income inequality. Hunger. Political meddling of all kinds. And everyone’s favorite: Sex. Anyone planning on having sex today? (We’ve got some confident people in the audience today.) In the bunker. Wow. We haven’t even given you your room assignments yet.

[[Elusiveness]]

Before we get too far, we should probably check in on that apocalypse. Right now, we’ve got our field agent Titus Lachlan on the surface, risking life and limb so that we might be able to learn a bit more about the disaster on the surface.

Corin: Come in, Titus. Can you hear me?

Titus (ADAM): Yeah, Corin. I can hear you. I just found some cover.

Corin: What’s going on out there?

Titus: I am as of this time still uncertain. It’s quite dusty out and I am finding it difficult to see.

Corin: Dusty… everywhere?

Titus: Well, I stopped to have a beer under a tree, and it is very dusty right here in particular.

Corin: Well, can you move to another location to give us some useful details?

Titus: I would love to do that, Corin. Just as soon as I finish my bitter.

Corin: Titus, I don’t mean to dwell on the negative here, but you could die at any time. Isn’t there something useful you can tell us?

Titus: Well, that’s where you’re wrong, Corin. I am totally impervious to apocalypses. The worst thing that can happen to me is that I will be the only one left alive when this is all said and done, which, admittedly, is pretty bad now that I think of it.

Corin: How can you be impervious to apocalypses?

Titus: An experiment went wrong, and here I am.

Corin: But how could you know that you’re impervious? The only apocalypse to happen is the one that just happened.

Titus: The scientists used concentrated apocalypse beams in the lab and I withstood all of them. No matter if it’s the biblical end times or a sciencey one, I’ll be right as rain.

Corin: How much beer do you have left?

Titus: It’s a tall boy, Corin. I’ll be sipping for another few minutes at least.

Corin: Well, radio in when you have something.

Titus might not have anything of use, but we can still listen in on what’s going on at the nearest listening station.

([1] – some distorted screaming, explosions, gunshots, fire sounds, etc)

Well, that sounded pretty bad. Remember that all of that is out there waiting for you if you feel the need to go smoke. Might want to wait a little bit.

I have in front of me a list of all the possible causes of the apocalypse. First item is giant robot AI. That is interesting. I should double check that with our resident robot expert, Dirk Cornelius Sexplosion, CEO of Giant-Ass Robots to Kick In Your Face. I say resident expert because he made the mistake of coming to live in this bunker, making him a resident.

New shareholders and old shareholders alike, you will enjoy hearing from Dirk. He is a man of such tremendous Evil, such dastardly masculinity, such malicious ingenuity, that we are truly lucky to have him here. He makes enormous metal machines that cause unfathomable amounts of damage worldwide, but his strength of will is even stronger. He is the master of manliness, the zenith of zero compassion, and the pinnacle of penility. Let me introduce Dirk motherfucking Sexplosion.

[[Pythonidae]]

(Dirk sobs)

Corin: Oh, for fuck’s sake, it’s the apocalypse, man. Get yourself together!

Dirk (ANWAR): I’m trying! It’s… It’s not the apocalypse.

Corin: What’s the problem?

Dirk: It’s… my family, Corin. My wives. My husband. Our dogs and hedgehog.

Corin: They’re all here. We evacuated them before we definitely caused the apocalypse.

Dirk: It’s not that. They’re safe and sound and set up in our luxury apocalypse bunker away from all of these filthy normal people. But they’re just so angry at me, Corin.

Corin: Dirk, it’s not unusual for friends and family to not understand your relationship with or appreciation of Evil. We have support groups for that.

Dirk: It’s not that, Corin. It’s… They think I caused the apocalypse.

Corin: That’s ridiculous, Dirk. We caused the apocalypse. Possibly using your robots, but it was us, not you. I have lists here of everything you were working on and none of them could have ended the world individually.

Dirk: There’s more than just that, Corin.

Corin: Go on.

Dirk: Well, you see, you’re always pushing me to be more Evil. Harder. Toxically manlier.

Corin: Well, Dirk, you tend to bring me really wimpy shit. Like giant dog robots that humans pilot so they can feel like puppies.

Dirk: Well, I decided I had enough of being so sad about stuff like that and I was just going to push through it. I was going to make a giant robot that could destroy the world. I kept it off the books. No one was to know about it until it was done. The MegaDeFuckulatrix 9 Quadrillion.

Corin: I’m going to set aside my frustration at your dishonesty for a moment. Don’t tell me this robot could feel the desperation of aging or some bullshit like that.

Dirk: (through sobs) It had rocket launchers firing spent uranium.

Corin: That sound sick as shit.

Dirk: It had enormous blades to destroy entire forests!

Corin: Rad.

Dirk: It could set fires large enough to change the weather hundreds of miles away!

Corin: I’m really loving this robot.

Dirk: Its fuel source was people!

Corin: Fuck yeah.

Dirk: I mean, not just people, but people are its favorite.

Corin: Dirk, I’m not mad at you. I’m just amazed. I love the MegaDeFuckulatrix 9 Quadrillion. You did all of this on your own without our help?

Dirk: It took everything I had. And I went too far, Corin! I killed all people. Now there’s no one left. And my family is so mad at me.

Titus: Come in, Corin.

Corin: What is it Titus?

Titus: The dust where I’m sitting has started to subside and it looks like there’s a giant robot here.

Dirk: MegaDeFuckulatrix 9 Quadrillion!

Titus: Ah, yep. That’s what it says on it. Right on the shaft of its big robo dick.

Corin: Dirk, you gave the robot a dick?

Dirk: We’ve been over this, Corin. If the robot doesn’t have a dick, then none of the other parts fit together. You just have a pile of robot parts on the floor. And that’s not going to feast on any humans, is it?

Titus: Well, the robot is now rocking back and forth on it’s robo buttocks, and it appears to be sobbing. It is trying to eat the trees nearby, but it is not having a good go of it.

Dirk: But it eats people. For fuel. Not trees.

Titus: Well, it looks like it might have grown a conscience. It didn’t even do that much damage first. Looks like maybe one factory destroyed, no more than maybe seventy five people. I don’t think this big guy caused the apocalypse.

[Robot Crying]

Dirk: He sounds so sad! But that means… I’m in the clear?

Corin: It looks like it. Thank you, Titus. Please let me know if you discover anything else.

Titus: Right-o. Titus out.

Dirk: MegaDeFuckulatrix 9 Quadrillion is just like me. It tries so hard, but then, it’s just so sad.

Corin: Just like you.

Dirk: I’m so relieved, Corin. My family will be so happy to hear this.

Corin: So the next item on my list is AI robot swarms. Do you know anything about those, Dirk?

Dirk: Huh? No. We don’t use artificial intelligence. We only use artificial stupidity and artificial emotional instability.

Corin: I think I can see what happened here. Well, you can go back to your family, then.

Dirk: But… my son is out there, Corin.

Corin: MegaDeFuckulatrix 9 Quadrillion?

Dirk: He’s so sad and out there all alone. I should help him, Corin. I can teach him to eat plants if that will make him happy.

Corin: It’s the apocalypse out there, Dirk, and you’re not apocalypse proof. I think this will sort itself out. And you can’t leave.

Dirk: I just want my boy to be happy, Corin!

Corin: Go to your family, Dirk.

Dirk: Yes. You’re right, Corin. My boy will be fine out there.

Corin: That’s not what I said– I mean, yeah, he’ll be fine.

[[Bawdry]]

Talking to Dirk, I almost forgot about our impending doom for a minute there. Let’s check in on the horror outside.

([2] – Another really terrible sound)

That still sounds pretty bad. Maybe it’s mutants. That would be fun. To tell us more about mutants, we have Mitch Grody from the Division of Mutants and Freaks, author of What to Expect When You’re Expecting to Severely Mutate to tell us more.

Mitch (ADAM): It’s great to be here, Corin.

Corin: So what do you have to tell us today?

Mitch: Well, Corin, as you know, I’m a mutant. And I just want to tell everyone in here that there’s nothing to worry about. In the event that this apocalypse has been caused by radiation or some virulent mutagen that the shareholders were unable to avoid for any reason, I am here to tell them that it’s okay to be a mutant. I’m a mutant, and I live a full and happy life.

Corin: How did your mutation come to be?

Mitch: Well, I used to be a lab tech testing new and strange genetic modifications. One day, I noticed we forgot to put the right specimen in the chamber and I went to switch it out real quick when the gene laser hit me right in the family jewels. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but when I woke up the next day, I had two penises, Corin. I thought that was pretty neat. The next day, I had three penises, and I think we can all agree that’s too many. Right ladies? Clap if you think three penises is too many.

Corin: So what was the rest of the transformation like?

Mitch: Well, as you can see, the rest of my skin got kind of weird. Lumpy. Flaky. Weird. And I also have a few other organs that have split in three. My liver being one. Alcohol doesn’t affect me any longer. And then my life took a pretty steep decline. My girlfriend couldn’t keep up with my three dicks. They all have different personalities, you know. Different needs. And tastes. So my girlfriend left. Then my landlord kicked me out. I mean, all I had done was cover my apartment in moss. People don’t realize how nice it is to sleep on moss when your skin is so lumpy and flaky. This was in the days before the Mutant Non-Discrimination Act. Things are so much better now.

Corin: How did you learn to cope? It’s important for our shareholders who might be mutating at this moment to know there’s hope.

Mitch: Well, I found a new lover with three vaginas. And a penis. I didn’t think I’d like that, but it grew on me. Not literally. Still just the three penises here. Anyway, she and I are very much in love, even after she found out that I caused her mutation due to my own loneliness. I needed another mutant freak to be with, and I arranged for her to have an accident. It seems that no one else will love her now. I call that a victory, Corin.

Corin: You are a mutant, and a monster. Do you have any recommendations for people just beginning to mutate?

Mitch: Thank you, Corin, for pitching my book. I would tell anyone feeling the tug of the mutated fates that they should begin to study mutation. Know it inside and out. Learn everything you can from everyone you can. Begin experimenting as much as possible. And when the time comes, act as selfishly as possible and patch things up later. And by that, I mean find someone special, and dose them with just the right mutagens to get them to be your perfect missing piece. And if you happen to end up with four vaginas and three penises, my lover and I are currently looking for a swinging partner.

Corin: Well, I don’t know how anyone can be depressed about their progressing mutation with advice like that. Thank you, Mitch.

Titus: Come in, Corin.

Corin: I’m here.

Titus: I just tasted the dirt up here. It does not taste like radiation or mutagens. That is conclusive evidence.

Corin: Well… okay. I’ll take your word for it.

[[Aerator]]

So as shareholders in Kakos Industries, it is important to have pride in what you are now a part of. I would like to tell you about a few of our ongoing programs that will be contributing to Evil in the post-apocalyptic future.

The first program is The Better Mutants from our partner Better Mutations Inc. While we just learned that there will be no mutants in the post-apocalypse due to radiation or mutagens, we all have certain expectations for what should be out there when we finally surface. For this reason, The Better Mutants project was undertaken. As we speak, ordinary animals like crows, pigeons, lizards, and rabbits are all being modified to be larger and far more hazardous. Sharper teeth, a thirst for blood, and acidic secretions they shoot out of their eyeballs. It will really help to sell the post-apocalypse stylistically speaking in the future, which I think we can all appreciate. Or at least our great grandchildren will. They will think, “Thank Evil this wasteland is so dangerous. My immersion would have been broken otherwise!”

We also occasionally spend time working with fashion. While it’s great fun and great Evil designing clothes that no one can fit into, or clothes that make us look so sexually exciting that it’s difficult to think about anything other than sex, until the clothes come off and we realize just how deeply unappealing all of us humans are at the base level when undoctored by makeup and wardrobe. But for now, our Division of Adornments has taken a much more serious task. That is, to keep the wasteland sexy. I know for a fact that none of you in this room would be satisfied to see a wasteland where no one is hot. So they’ve been leaving stashes of ripped and torn clothing, but in like better ways than would happen at random, so our descendants will look amazing while still fitting into that scavenger aesthetic. This way, we can imagine an apocalypse the way we might like to imagine it, especially as we are quietly satisfying ourselves so as not to disturb our neighbor in the next bunk.

([Noise 1])

[[Melantha Keys]]

Melantha (BECCA): Corin. I’m interrupting you.

Corin: Ah, Melantha Murther, CEO of [Competitor – Corin Pronunciation], our largest competitor.

Melantha: You sound like you have a speech impediment. Or damage to the speech processing section of your brain. It’s pronounced [Competitor – Melantha Pronunciation].

Corin: Ah, I see. My mistake.

Melantha: It happens all the time. It’s a useful Shiboleth for finding out who around me is a complete idiot.

Corin: How is your apocalypse, Melantha?

Melantha: It’s fantastic. So hot! We finished the hole under our building just in time, and we just dropped the whole thing down underground to safety. Now, nothing can touch us, and we can keep doing Evil.

Corin: That’s comforting news. It seems that our rivalry will go on, then.

Melantha: Rivalry? Don’t be silly. It’s not like you caused the apocalypse.

Corin: What? Of course we caused the apocalypse.

Melantha: No. You didn’t. We did. Because we are far more Evil than you. No Evil Left Undone. That’s our motto, and the apocalypse was the obvious next step when we had finished all the other Evils.

Corin: Then how did the apocalypse happen?

Melantha: Well… it was… obviously an extremely infectious venereal disease from our lab. It makes people just do it a whole lot, all over the place, in all the positions. Doing it. And spreading the disease until everyone is doing it. But then your nose falls off. And then you die.

Titus: Come in, Corin.

Corin: Go ahead, Titus.

Melantha: Are you taking another call? Right now?

Titus: I just got lucky, Corin. Just rooted a woman here on the surface. She was looking to feel something other than fear for a few moments and pulled me aside to do the deed. I can safely confirm that venereal disease has not caused the apocalypse. I am detecting nothing abnormal about my loins at all. The woman ran off, so I couldn’t do any, uh, further testing. But, Definitely not VD.

Corin: Excellent news, Titus. Do you hear that, Melantha? You didn’t cause the apocalypse.

Melantha: Then what did?

Corin: Well, obviously, it was… drugs?

Titus: Corin, I have just snorted some of the dirt. No buzz at all. Not a thing. Not even a little bit. It wasn’t drugs either.

Melantha: Then you don’t know either! Ha! It seems this is a draw, Corin! I’ll just keep investigating until I figure out that I caused this and then I will rub your face in it. Hahahahaha!

[Noise 2]

Corin: Or maybe I caused it! I mean… I could have. We’ll get to the bottom of this, shareholders.

But first, let’s take a brief intermission. If you haven’t already, please tell us what is most Evil on the pad of paper here at the front, and throw your name into the Ruin-A-Life Drawing.

[[Stop Music]]

INTERMISSION

We will now need a volunteer from the audience. Who wants to read? (Don’t make me pick one of you at random)

[[Flathead]]

What’s your name? Thank you for coming to the stage. Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone else, this is X. Thank you so much for joining us today. Now, as I understand it, you have volunteered to seal the tunnels from the outside and brave whatever terrors might be waiting for you out there to save all of us. This is truly a dangerous and terrible task, and we thank you for that.

Guest: I have no idea what you are talking about.

Corin: Ah, yes, I did hear about the head injury you encountered earlier. It can play havoc with your memories.

Guest: I did not volunteer to do anything dangerous.

Corin: Don’t be ridiculous. It was very brave. We were all very impressed.

Guest: Just a moment ago, you asked for volunteers to come read a part.

Corin: That doesn’t sound right. I introduced you, you came to the stage and now you are telling me about the brave and dangerous feat ahead of you, and I am telling you just how brave and courageous we think you are. Thank you for your service.

Guest: You asked me to come read. Anyone in the audience will remember that.

Corin: The audience does not remember that. And if they do, then there’s a kind of thing called a collective hallucination. If anyone remembers me asking for you to come up here from the audience, they are just remembering wrong. You are a guest like any other on this show. We talked about it earlier. Your family did mention you might have some memory troubles, though.

Guest: I have no idea what’s happening.

Corin: None of us do. It’s the apocalypse. It is all very scary and we are all thankful that you are going to do this selfless thing and go battle with escaped monsters and terrible biological pathogens that are certain to be lining the tunnels now until you finally fall to one of their attacks, saving all of us.

Guest: This is crazy. I volunteered for none of that. I just came here to watch a show because you asked me to on Facebook.

Corin: Oh, bless your heart. We will never forget your sacrifice.

Guest: I simply will not do this thing.

Corin: That’s okay. We have several people standing by to escort you to your new task. Everyone please applaud as this brave soul goes to do something unimaginably brave and selfless for all of us. And die a terrible death. (You can go now)

It’s been a minute since we checked outside. Let’s have a listen.

[3] (More Terrible sounds)

At Kakos Industries, we are known for our parties. Of course, we’re Evil and we take the time to party whenever we can. I know that some of you long time shareholders might be concerned about how we might continue this critical part of our operations in these new, dramatically worsened circumstances. Obviously, we will all have to make some modifications, and that includes how we will celebrate. Right now, we should be having the Shareholders’ Ball, the most extravagant party of the year for us at Kakos Industries. It’s that time when we celebrate you, the shareholders. We spare no expense, and violate whatever morals we might have left, to bring you a feast and entertainment to truly remember. We’re still working out the kinks, but it’s likely the entertainment and the food offerings will be human suffering themed. Because we’ve got a lot of it right now. Those of you with chef on your new class cards should get to work so I don’t look like a fool when the time comes.

There’s also the Festival of Books. We do have a few books. They are all Dan Brown novels, though. Sorry about that. Not quite as exciting as we’re used to.

The CEO Festival is the festival where you all celebrate me. I did mention the thunderdome, right? It’ll probably be a thunderdome kind of thing. And the Festival of the Dance? Probably thunderdome. The Festival of Darkness will occur any time someone uses the bluetooth speaker without using the electric bike. It’ll trip the breaker and turn out the lights. Festival of Somnambulation? That’ll also be a thunderdome. The Thunderdome Festival will be a quiet game of cards, though.

I mentioned our low supply of books, but it would seem that the rest of our media is somewhat limited as well. The Internet has been completely destroyed. (pause) That’s what I thought. We’re not really that sad about it, are we? We’ve been kind of like, waiting for it to go for a while now, right? Before the apocalypse we tried to archive as much of the Internet as possible, so we could pretend like it still exists for some time, but the only things we managed to save were extreme right wing terrorist forums, so we deleted them. Also we saved the most recent meme to be posted to the Internet right before everything went to shit. It’s not a good one, but it is the last thing humanity did before the end of the world. It’s a kitten, on a blue background, and it says “This apocalypse shit is freaking meowt.” Congratulations, humanity.

[[Overdraught]]

To speak with us a bit more about the limited media we still have access to, we are now joined by Lisa Librera, the curator of what remains of our archives of entertainment. So, Lisa, what do we have to keep ourselves busy?

Lisa (KELSEY): Thank you, Corin. In addition to the books you mentioned and the lovely meme that will need to sustain us for the rest of time, we also have a small collection of VHS tapes, but they are all either commercial releases of Showgirls, the Ernest collection, or television taped in Super Long Play mode by someone’s grandmother. We know whose, we’re just not comfortable sharing that information right now. You will have to check them out and return them in one piece. Also, there is only one VCR, and it stays in the break room.

Corin: That seems difficult, but I assume we will adapt quickly.

Lisa: We also have a complete collection of Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass on Vinyl, and an extremely worn copy of Thriller. The stylus has broken on our turntable, however. For other auditory entertainment, we also have this kitschy digital remote control that just plays fart sounds. Please use this responsibly.

Corin: If anyone can be trusted with such a power, it is our shareholders.

Lisa: We also have many of the Earth’s greatest works of art that you can look at through a window on the far side of the break room. Please do not concern yourselves with the identities of the masked figures who move the art around and sort it, and do not concern yourself with how we got any of it either.

Corin: I can think of nothing concerning about any of that. At least not to my sensibilities.

Lisa: There are six decks of cards. You will need to show proof that you will be playing cards with at least one other person before you will be allowed to check one out. No solitaire. We don’t have the resources for solitaire. We also have some dice, but they are exclusively for gambling.

Corin: I was going to ask about gambling. I’m glad that particular aspect of humanity will continue into the apocalypse.

Lisa: There is one puzzle. We don’t know what it’s supposed to look like when completed, or if all of the pieces are there, or if all of the pieces are even from the same puzzle.

Corin: I’m sure we will find out quickly.

Lisa: There are also several copies of Monopoly that I expect none of you to play. We also have a Bop-It, and a Skip-It. We expect them to be completely broken by tomorrow.

Corin: I can see that.

Lisa: There is also just one remaining porno magazine. It will be kept under lock and key. You will have to make an appointment, look at it, memorize whatever you need, and then go about your way, leaving it in the case. I am told, however, that there is something for everyone in it.

Corin: What about people who need more physical activity to keep themselves sane?

Lisa: You’ve already mentioned the exercise bike and the blue tooth speaker, but we do have a complete weight room in case you feel like getting prison jacked while you’re down here, and why not. We also have the GED prep book for anyone who wants to better themselves. We cannot guarantee that the information in this book is going to be valuable in the post apocalypse, but it’s about time you got yourself back into school.

Corin: That makes sense. It’s never too late for self improvement.

Lisa: We also have a limited supply of a variety of colors of paint so that you may while away the hours watching them dry. There’s also this cup and ball thing that I think we’re all going to be experts at soon enough, and a single puzzle cube, but it’s missing two of the face stickers. We don’t have the right color markers to do anything about that.

Corin: Well it seems like we might be just about set for the rest of our lives down here. Is there anything else?

Lisa: We also have one of those floor mats that promises to teach you to do the Jitterbug, but we lost the instructions. And the music.

Corin: That’s too bad. Thank you for joining us.

[[Helena]]

Corin: Hey, Titus.

Titus: Yes, Corin?

Corin: Is there any chance the apocalypse was caused by boredom?

Titus: I certainly don’t think so, Corin. If anything, it is quite exciting out here. I am positively riveted. It reminds me of my youth, when I used to cliff dive into waters just infested with jellies to show them who was boss.

I have a note here saying that our next guest is Deborah Highlow, from the Division of Animal Husbandry. Well, okay.

Deborah (BECCA): I appreciate you asking me here, Corin.

Corin: I definitely didn’t do that.

Deborah: I have something very important to talk about today.

Corin: Okay. Go ahead.

Deborah: It’s about the animals we have here in the bunker. Our livestock.

Corin: Do you want to talk with us about how to handle the animals and make sure that they last for generations to come?

Deborah: No, all of that is automated. I have something more important to talk about. May I address the shareholders directly?

Corin: Uh, yeah. I guess.

Deborah: Hello shareholders. My name is Deborah. I work with animals every day. I love animals and all that they have to offer us, so I want to talk to you about the most pressing issue facing us now that we are locked in this basement with the livestock. And that is overcoming your lust for them.

Corin: I’m going to cut you off right there, Deborah.

Deborah: Corin, this is important. Let me finish.

Corin: No guarantees.

Deborah: We’ve all been there. You catch the eye of that beautiful, glistening pack animal, and you think, there is nothing I want inside of me more than that animal.

Corin: Like to eat?

Deborah: No, Corin. Not to eat.

Corin: Please let’s not do this.

Deborah: You start by stroking its mane.

Corin: No.

Deborah: and maybe you get a little bit experimental.

Corin: Please stop.

Deborah: But this is wrong. We cannot fuck the animals.

Corin: Didn’t even cross my mind.

Deborah: You say that now, Corin. But just wait three months, down here, with all of these people. You’ll fuck half of them by next month. But then what will excite you?

Corin: Three months sounds like a short amount of time for this kind of change.

Deborah: You’ll start looking to the cows. Or the chickens. Or the horses.

Corin: There aren’t any horses down here.

Deborah: Oh, what a relief then. Actually, it was primarily the horses I was worried about. Now I feel silly for even bringing this up.

Corin: Well, I feel… silly isn’t the right word.

Deborah: Goodbye, Corin.

So… we’re going to have to get someone to fuck Deborah. Like a human person. Fall on that sword, guys. Because there will be no animal fucking in here.

Now we recognize it can get kind of boring down here, especially if you don’t have a whole lot of friends in this group, which is why we’re starting up some extracurricular activities to stay busy. We will have a choir. We currently only have the sheet music for acapella Sweet Caroline, but I’m sure you resourceful people will figure out some other songs.

We’re also going to have some roleplaying groups, but each group will have that guy that tries to game the system in a super unfun way. We also have one amongst us who can teach everyone else to make pottery. I am told that there is also an inflatable hot tub, but the heater is broken, and it probably has a hole in it.

I am now joined by Dennis Leelio, Director of The Intergalactic Network For Otherworldly Industry Liaisons, or TINFOIL for short.

[[Automat 2]]

Corin: What do you have to talk about today, Dennis?

Dennis (ANWAR): Well, usually, COrin, I deal with outer space shit. Aliens. Making alliances. Maintaining trade. Getting the good Froobberries from Markalon 99, okay? But now, we’re underground. I could have been in space for the apocalypse, but you decided to bring me back to Earth so that I could join you guys in the fucking ground. Real, exciting, Corin. Just a great fucking time for me. And now what do they ask me to do, Corin? They ask me to keep an eye on the drug stash. They know that I get a little cranky when I have chardonnay. They know I’m not going to touch the blow, or the blizz, or the weed cigarettes. But now I have the unenviable task of keeping these fucking drug fiends out there away from the stash so it lasts a while. There are no more drugs, Corin. What we’ve got is what we’ve got. No pens, no powders, no leaves, no flowers. We’re not getting any more, okay? So we’ve got to let everyone down real easy. Did you see that, Corin? Half of your damn shareholders just stiffened up knowing that they can’t smoke their jazz herbs every day for the rest of the apocalypse. Their buttholes just got real tight, Corin. And look at that guy. He’s fucking itchy just at the thought of not having any nose sweets. This is real great for me, Corin. Just dealing with a bunch of drug addled people looking for their fix. People that you got addicted. And you know I can’t leave anyone else in charge of the stash. Not even Derek. He’ll do all the drugs, Corin. I left him at the stash for five minutes and I bet he’s done half of the stuff already. In fact, the longer I’m here talking to you, the less drugs we’re going to have because my idiot assistant has a serious meeblebock problem. That’s not even a drug we have here, Corin. He is so fucked when the sweats start, and you know who’s going to have to take care of him? You know who’s going to have to breastfeed him back to health? It sure as shit isn’t you, Corin. It’s me. I’m going to have to change his bedding when he soils himself, and what thanks do I get for any of this? None. No thanks. No thanks for Dennis. Maybe I should do the drugs, Corin. Maybe I should just stick my face in there and just snort, smoke and swallow, and inject until I’m a fucking vegetable. Then I won’t have to deal with this garbage. The apocalypse? Go fuck yourself, Corin. Go fuck yourself.

Corin: I’ll let you get back to the stash.

Dennis: Thank you.

Corin: Hey, Dennis.

Dennis: What?

Corin: Thank you.

Dennis: Oh, go fuck yourself, Corin. Go fuck yourself. I deserve better than this shit.

Titus: Come in, Corin.

Corin: Yep. Go ahead.

Titus: I have determined that the end is not due to lack of cheese. There’s still plenty of cheese up here.

Corin: That’s not even on my list of possibilities. Can you look into electromagnetic pulses or superstorms? Maybe global warming?

Titus: I’m on it, Corin. Just as soon as I sample some more cheese.

[[Landlike]]

Shareholders, I have just received a note from my grandfather. If you’re a new shareholder, then you should know that my grandfather wrote me a lot of letters before he died to cover a wide variety of contingencies. This one is titled “The Apocalypse”. He writes, “Well, Corin, it was bound to happen, wasn’t it. The end of the world. And you were bound to cause it. I didn’t, and my predecessors didn’t either, so we were due. Don’t feel too bad sport. Everything was always headed this direction. In this letter, I’ve included a key. It opens a lockbox in storage 38-99-A in the bunker. There’s a bottle of DarkMegaScotch in there. Toast the world for me, would you? Also, if the apocalypse is anything like those months I spent underground in the seventies researching our internal clocks and how Evil they are, then it’s important to put on pants every single day. Every day, Corin. You promise me. Every day. If you don’t, that’s when the problems start. Put your pants on. Even when you don’t want to. You have to. Every day. Every day. Love ya, kiddo.” Well, I’m wearing pants now. Advantageous start, I guess.

Let’s take a listen outside again.

([Not so terrible sound] Something silly, like a carnival or something. Geese. Laughter.)

That doesn’t sound right.

The Division of Incredibly Boring things is still at work, shareholders. This is one of my favorite divisions. They’re always doing such interesting things. Well, not interesting. The opposite, actually–

([Noise 1])

Corin: Who is it now?

Svetlana (MASHA): My name is Svetlana. I work for DarkMegaKGB.

Corin: Ah. New shareholders, the DarkMegaUSSR is one of our rivals. But their leader took almost everyone and started a colony on Mars.

Svetlana: It is the reddest of planets. Even if Vodya was a bit misguided in his desire to get there so soon. He has left some of us behind on Earth to continue bringing collectivized Evil to the world.

Corin: So why did you call? Are you going to take credit for the apocalypse?

Svetlana: This is just like you capitalists. You think that it is always competition and that person who goes biggest wins. And it is your short sightedness that brings us to this mess. This apocalypse. Communist Evil would last a hundred thousand generations. No History. No social unrest. Just Evil. But you, and your consumption, and your need to exploit every one of Earth’s resources in pursuit of shiny things, you have gone too far. Capitalism has done this, and now there is no one left to do Evil to. No one left in gulag. No one left in frozen wastes. All is wasted.

Corin: You think capitalism did this? I mean, sure. Why not. We’ll take the blame.

Svetlana: Short sighted as always.

Titus: Corin, I did some looking into the weather patterns.

Corin: Forget about that for a minute. Did capitalism cause the apocalypse?

Titus: Ah, Capitalism? Well… That’s a tricky one, Corin. I am not economist. Hold on.

(Titus makes nibbling sounds)

Titus: Well, Corin, I’ve just chewed some bark here. I can detect notes of runaway capitalism, notes of financial oligarchy, a hint of cronyism, and a lot of greed, but no, Corin. Capitalism may have helped, but it’s not the root of the problem.

Corin: Do you hear that Svetlana?

Svetlana: In that case, we will take credit for the apocalypse. Thank you for conceding, Mr. Deeth. It has made our job much easier.

([noise 2])

Corin: Oh, fuck.

Corin: Okay, Titus, tell me what you’ve discovered about the weather patterns.

[Wind]

Titus: Okay, here goes: It is windy.

(pause)

Corin: That’s it?

Titus: This wind did not cause the apocalypse.

Corin: Then find out what did!

Titus: Ah, yep. That’s the point, Corin. Working on it. Titus out.

[STOP Wind]

Corin: This is getting pretty frustrating.

[[Equivocacy]]

Now to try to perk us up, I am joined by Francine Drow to talk with us about Euthanasia options. Wait, that doesn’t sound pleasant at all.

Francine (JESSIE): It most certainly isn’t, Corin, but we have to have this conversation.

Corin: I suppose I agree. We have to make sure that we have mature conversations about things like this.

Francine: And we also don’t want anyone making a fucking mess all over the bunker for everyone else to see and clean up. We understand, you know. This is all terribly depressing and the desire to leave it all behind is not difficult to empathize with. Why, I’m thinking about it right now myself. And that’s why we’ve decided to set up safe, sanitary, and most importantly, tidy ways of ending it all. The last thing we need is brains all over the fucking walls, or gallons of blood staining the floor for the rest of eternity. We also don’t want your bowels releasing anywhere other than the designated areas for that. It’s really about morale.

Corin: Morale?

Francine: Obviously. If we have a bunch of corpses piling up everywhere, and leaving remnants in the most difficult to clean nooks and crannies, then it will have a seriously negative effect on morale. People cannot be content in those circumstances.

Corin: So what do you recommend?

Francine: Well, we have a variety of ways to take you out for good that are far more agreeable than leaving yourself hanging like a flag, waving for all to see. We have drugs and a variety of painless poisons. And best of all, the emotional impact you have on the rest of us is far less with these methods. We can’t stop you from doing it, but we can ask that you not make it a whole thing, you know?

Corin: Do you have anything hopeful to say after all of that?

Francine: No matter how you die, we will harvest your sperm or eggs if you have any and use those to make more people in the future. We just can’t lose the genetic diversity.

Corin: I’m not sure that’s all that hopeful.

Francine: Did I forget to smile?

Corin: Thank you for joining us, Francine.

Let’s check in with the sounds outside to see how things are progressing.

[4](More terrible sounds)

That’s about what I expected.

[[Overt Operation]]

[Fire]

Titus: I have another update.

Corin: Go ahead.

Titus: It’s regarding global warming. It is rather warm where I am, but I am inside a burning building.

Corin: Titus, get out of there!

Titus: Don’t you worry, Corin. I’m apocalypse proof, remember?

Corin: Fine. But this isn’t useful information.

Titus: I’m only one man, Corin. I’m doing the best I can.

Corin: Well, keep at it. It seems like we might not figure out the answer to this enormous question before the end of the show here. We’ll have to distribute literature later or something. Or maybe have another show.

Titus: Whatever you think is best, Corin. I’m going to have another beer in the meantime.

[Can]

[STOP Fire]

They say that Evil once ate one half of each of two babies and sewed them up into one baby. This is Things We’re Taking Credit for Now. New shareholders, this is the segment where we announce that we’re taking credit for Evil things around the world. We definitely did do these things, but it’s not always easy to prove how. Today, we are taking credit for ________, _________, and the apocalypse. I guess I said that one already. If you happen to disagree that we did any of these things, prepare to experience the apocalypse head on. Outside.

X has won the Ruin-A-Life Drawing. As a result, the life of X’s nemesis will be ruined. X has selected Y for this punishment. We spun the Wheel of Misery with an Evil amount of force and it sailed right past apocalypse to land on the space designated for Nonjudgmental. That’s right, from this day forward, Y will be 300% more nonjudgmental. This includes situations where being judgmental isn’t really helping anyone, but also situations where some judgment would actually be a pretty good idea. Like picking your friends and lovers. For Evil Measure, X will be 30% more judgmental. That may take a toll. Congratulations on the win and best of luck.

[[Tautologize]]

And that brings us to the end of the show. No more word from Titus. The apocalypse just happened and now we have to deal with it. Not the best outcome, but Evil perseveres.

[Laser]

Titus: Corin.

Corin: What is it, Titus?

Titus: Well, it’s the apocalypse.

Corin: It is the apocalypse. What about it?

Titus: Do you remember when I told you about that ray that they used to test my apocalypse-proofness?

Corin: I remember thinking that it made no sense.

Titus: Well, this is embarrassing, but it looks like one of the scientists in the lab left the ray on, and it looks like it slipped, so it’s no longer hitting the apocalypse-proof panel on the wall. Instead, it’s hitting a glass of water and being reflected out of the window, where it is hitting the Earth. I believe this apocalypse ray may be causing the apocalypse.

Corin: That is so incredibly stupid.

Titus: I agree, Corin, but you just can’t make this stuff up.

Corin: Well, turn it off.

[Laser Off]

Titus: It is off, Corin.

Corin: And the apocalypse light on my desk turned off. Titus, you ended the apocalypse.

Titus: Are you sure, Corin? I still feel like everything is terrible.

Corin: Oh, it is.

Titus: Nothing makes sense. Everyone is mad at everyone else.

Corin: Yep.

Titus: It feels like democracy is crumbling and no one cares about truth anymore.

Corin: uh-huh. But it’s not the apocalypse anymore. I’ll see you back at work, Titus. Corin out.

Well, shareholders, this is embarrassing. But on the other hand, at least it was us here at Kakos Industries that caused the apocalypse, and not any of our competitors. I suppose we can let you go now. Hopefully your loved ones survived the few hours of apocalypse.

Please tip your bartenders. We will have merch in the back. Have an amazing night. The numbers are next.

[[The Numbers]]

120

220

440

420

I suppose now that everything is back to normal we can take one more listen outside.

[5] (Another terrible sound)

Where the hell did we put that microphone?

[[Kakos Bells with Reverse Reverb]]

[[Potency]]

Kelsey: This special live presentation of Kakos Industries was written and produced by Conrad Miszuk, who is also the voice of Corin Deeth III. The introduction is read by Kitty McCauley, and the credits are read by Kelsey Kemmer, the current thunderdome champion after squashing a fly in there. Special appearance in this episode by Adam Miszuk, Anwar Newton, Rebecca Ryan, Jessie Marie, Masha Zapalova, and Kelsey Kemmer. Please visit KakosIndustries.com for news, extras, and more episodes. There are also transcriptions on the website if you’d like to read along with the Kakos Industries announcements. That’s K-A-K-O-S-I-N-D-U-S-T-R-I-E-S dot com. Please visit store.KakosIndustries.com for merchandise and special offers and get wonderful benefits by becoming a subscription donor at kakosindustries.com/patreon. You can also buy stuff in the lobby! Questions, comments, or a strong desire to collaborate? Drop us a line at [email protected]. If you like Kakos Industries, be sure to rate and review us on your favorite podcasting service, and connect with us on YouTube (YouTube.com/KakosIndustries), Facebook (facebook.com/kakosindustries), Tumblr (kakosindustries.tumblr.com), and Twitter (@KakosIndustries). We encourage fan art and listener participation on all our social media platforms. We’ve recently expanded our social media team, so please visit the website to view their credits and current projects.

Kelsey: Kakos Industries can be heavy sometimes. Try exercising to take your mind off of all of the darkness.

[[Stop Music]]

#IFTTT #Kakos Industries #Do Evil Better

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nothingwithoutwannaone · 6 years ago

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Pine Tree/소나무 - Yoon Ji Sung

In which a project prevents you from coming home for Christmas..or does it?

“I miss you; the words I can’t even say for once

I’ll say it through this song

Lean on me now

I’ll be the tree that resembles your love for me” - Pine Tree/소나무 (Wanna One)

Hello everyone! This is Day 10 for my persona 12 Days with Wanna One Christmas series. I hope you enjoy it with uri Leader-nim Yoon Ji Sung, and thank you again for your patience and understanding ^^

As you re-typed a portion of the code to fix a bug on the website you were working on, you glanced at the time at the bottom of your screen. It wasn’t late per say but you should have been out of the office an hour ago. Glancing at your phone, you knew you’d have to return a missed call that you had to ignore earlier because your creative director had called you in for an emergency meeting.

Long story short, your client had changed their vision but still wanted a product by the deadline. Your boss would have refused, but this was a very high-profile client and declining them would not look good for the company, so you were forced to oblige by the unreasonable “request”. This pushed everyone behind schedule and as a result, you weren’t the only one in the office at this time trying to catch up on the new project.

After about another hour, you hit your goal for today. All you had to do tomorrow was to double check all the features of the website, and fix anything that wasn’t user friendly. After that, you’d have your team members try it out before submitting it to your director. Turning off your computer and your lamp, you stood up from your chair and stretched before grabbing your bag and coat, bidding your co-workers good-bye as you left the office.

Walking into the parking garage, you quickly found your car before unlocking it and stepping in. Buckling your seat belt and making sure your phone was connected to the Bluetooth ear piece, you called your boyfriend as you backed out of the parking spot and made your way out. It didn’t take very long for him to pick up, and you smiled at the sound of his voice.

“Jagi! Why didn’t you pick up my call earlier? I thought you were off after six…”

His voice trailed off and you had to chuckle at that. You knew he was probably already overthinking everything, making sure that you did get out of six instead of him remembering wrong or what not and calling you at an inappropriate time.

“Ji Sung, before you start overreacting-”

“Me? Overreact?”

“Yes, oppa, you.”

You stopped at a stoplight briefly before it turned green and you started moving again, signaling before you changed lanes to turn into the street that led to your home in the city.

“You end at six, don’t you?”

“I was supposed to, but one of clients decided to change on us…again.”

“Again? Was this the same one who told you they wanted an elephant splayed across the homepage?”

“The same one. Good thing is, the elephant idea is gone, and their most recent request isn’t crazy, in terms of design anyway. It’s relatively simple, but they still want the same deadline.”

“The day you fly back home?”

“Yes, that day.”

There was a silence before Ji Sung spoke again.

“I know you don’t want me to overreact, but I can’t help but feel you’re a lot more stressed than you’re letting on.”

You let out another laugh at that. Of course, Ji Sung would know; he knew you too well for you to hide how you were feeling from him.

“How is that you can read how I’m feeling over the phone so easily?”

“You just sound…a lot more tired than usual. Plus, you always sound like this before any deadline, regardless of how unreasonable the client was or was not.”

“Honestly, I’m not even sure I’ll be able to come home as planned.”

“That bad?”

“Kind of,” you said as you passed through a few more streets and stop signs before arriving at your apartment building. Pulling into the parking garage, you parked at your spot before killing the engine and getting out of the car, locking it behind you.

“Is there something else? You know you can tell me anything.”

“I know…but I feel like I’m bothering you. Don’t you have a thing with the guys tonight?”

Instead of taking the elevator, you climbed the stairs, grateful for some time to stretch your legs after sitting in a chair all day.

“You aren’t bothering me at all. Plus, our get-together isn’t until later anyway. Now, tell me what’s bothering you.”

You unlocked the door to your apartment before entering and locking. Kicking off your shoes, you walked to the living room where you dropped your bag on the ground and flopped onto the sofa.

“I guess, I just feel worried that I won’t be able to make it home in time to do all the things we usually do before Christmas. I’m usually in charge of getting that started for my family, but if I’m not there-”

“Hold on there. What makes you think you won’t be home in time? You said the new design was relatively easy. Every time you say that, you always manage to finish early.”

“Yes, but what if I don’t? I’ll be missing all the pre-Christmas traditions that we’ve had for years. And you’ll have to worry about everything by yourself. Or what about Christmas shopping for all my cousins? How could I make you do that alone? And what about-”

“Y/N.”

Him calling your name abruptly put a stop to your worried rambling.

“Yeah?”

“I know you’re going to finish the project in time for your flight in a few days. And you can expect me to be there waiting for you when you walk out of those gates. Everything is going to be fine, and you aren’t going to let me be alone for all this holiday prep that we always do together.”

“You think so?”

“I’m positive. The rest of the guys are also looking forward to seeing you again, so I know you aren’t going to miss that.”

Ji Sung’s pep talk managed to get you to think clearly about everything. He was right. You were basically done with your portion of the project, and if any fixes needed to be done, you still had several days to do so, which was plenty of time. As always, he was always able to keep you grounded whenever you got worried about your projects. And to think you told him not to overreact; maybe you were prone to overreact too.

“Thanks, oppa. I needed that.”

You heard him chuckle on his end and the sound significantly improved your mood, if it wasn’t already uplifted from his pep talk.

“That’s what I’m here for! I’m glad to hear that you’re feeling better.”

“How do you always do that?”

“How do I always do…what?”

“Know how to make me feel better?”

There was a brief silence but you could practically hear him smile through the phone.

“I’ve known you long enough, and if I didn’t know how to make you feel better by this point, I would be a very bad boyfriend.”

“I suppose I can’t argue with that.”

“Also, you always know how to make me feel better too, so it’s a win-win situation.”

“Do I really?”

“Of course, you do! Did you forget the entire last year when I was searching for a job and was unsuccessful? You were the one who motivated me to keep trying at the end of each day, no matter how crappy I felt. And thanks to you, I’m where I am now.”

Thinking back, you remembered that was a thing. Ji Sung would call you before all his interviews, and then again that same day when he came home. Of course, he would call before you left for work and after you got home, but you remembered late nights when he was feeling especially sorry for himself. Although it was hard sometimes, you both worked through it. Eventually he got the job doing what he wanted and was even slated for a promotion in the new year.

“Did I help all that much? I feel like everything you have now was because of you. I didn’t do anything.”

“You were my support system, and everyone needs that. I would have given up if it weren’t for you.”

“That sounds serious.”

“It could have been, but it wasn’t. So now it’s my turn. You can lean on me and everything will be okay. I know you’re capable of what you put your mind to.”

“Thanks, Ji Sung. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome, jagi. You’re home now right? I’ll let you wash up and get some dinner all right?”

“Okay, I love you. Talk to you later.”

“Love you too! I’ll talk to you soon.”

You heard the line drop and took the earpiece from your ear before getting up to change out of your clothes and wash up before eating dinner. As you turned in for the night, you couldn’t help but miss Ji Sung a bit more than normal. However, after tonight’s phone call, you were determined to finish the project on time, and to the best of your ability.

True to Ji Sung’s words, you were able to finish the project before your flight home, and even got a bonus from the client because they liked the website so much. When you walked out of the gates after your flight at the airport and saw Ji Sung waiting for you, you couldn’t rush into his arms fast enough.

As you felt his warmth envelope you, and his arms around your waist, you knew that you were finally home for Christmas.

Lyric credit to colorcodedlyrics

#wanna one #wanna one imagines #wanna one scenarios #kpop imagines #yoon jisung

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quaintlouise · 6 years ago

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#thequinneffect

I spent the morning of Quinn Harper’s birthday angry.

I'd been thinking about how to make the significance of my contribution to #thequinneffect worthy of the importance of Amber in my life. That's not shade at/on (which is correct? I don’t really care, do you? Lololololol. Be Best.) anyone else's participation, it's just that Amber and I share a bond born of tremendous grief. Loneliness. Loss.

We both know that pulsing sternum when people remind us of God's plan.

Thanks, random coworker/neighbor/third cousin on FB who has an affinity for minions (???). But God's plan for this chapter of my life is so sad/hard/cruel that I haven't yet had time to reconcile with all that seeing as this death/diagnosis/devastation hit me three days ago, or three weeks or however long it takes for me to understand, or never understand, or until FMLA runs out.

We know the confusion and sadness at the disappearance of loved ones you'd never imagine would leave your side. The annoyed satisfaction when loved ones act as poorly as you would have predicted. The friends and family who stepped up beyond belief and the acquaintances who did the same and became family. We also know the loneliness that descends once you realize those loved ones need to deal with their own BS that continued or began during your crisis.

Anyway, I was angry at the world. Angry that the Ruszkowski’s have been denied the type of family that seemingly everyone else gets. Angry that my little girl will grow up without her twin. Angry that I got cancer. Angry about the heartbreaking cruelties that leave mothers with empty arms and children without the arms of their mother to hold them. Angry that instead of pinning ideas for Quinn Harper’s first birthday party, Amber is instead bravely trying to find ways to honor her daughter's sweet soul while managing her own sorrow.

I grew surlier as I walked past the windowless steel door at the OBGYN, the one they usher you out of when things go terribly wrong.

I’m sorry to tell you I have very sad news.

The heaving sobs subside a bit when you are hit with the fresh air from a door you didn’t know existed. Best to keep the waiting area free of the weeping formerly expectant parents, I suppose.

I'm sorry to tell you that you have cancer.

We’ll need to fill you with poison...just enough not to kill you; poison with ingredients of mustard gas and platinum. Then we will take your breasts, uterus, ovaries, fallopian tubes and cervix. You’ll need thirty rounds of radiation on those fresh scars. This might keep you alive. There’s also a special pill you can take that will shut down all the rest of your estrogen production! This may be the hardest part of treatment. Surgical menopause at 38 is gonna f with your head. There is no way to relieve the symptoms. Antidepressants might help. Oh, I see you take some. Wow, you’re on a lot of meds. Perhaps that’s part of your problem.

Nah. My problem right then, on Quinn's birthday? Was the gynecological nurse who read my chart, looked me dead in the eye, and said

I’m not sure what you’re here for?

Me neither, lady. Me neither. But actualllllllly the surgeon (y’all referred me to) built a cuff (TF? Can they come up with a better word?) down there so my insides don’t fall out and this is the place you go to get that looked at? Also, thank you for the offer of the lap gown, however, I’ll just leave my skirt on and take my panties (old maternity underwear) off. Oh? Oh yes, thank you for correcting me that it is a breast gown I’ve turned down. Fitting!

It was an easy walk across the street to get another blood draw after a full round of bloodwork three days earlier.

Your white count is low. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about but we need to check that again and call me this afternoon for results.

Awesome.

I asked if I was going to be one of those rare cases where the chemo causes leukemia. The neurologist deadpanned that I was funny.

I proceeded that day to my psychiatrist and managed to overwhelm her with all my new diagnoses, calendar of appointments, and general complaints of apathy, mania, obsessions, rage, malaise, guilt, forgetfulness, indecisiveness, impulsiveness blah blah blah.

She upped the valium.

I drove around for a while. I sang sad and angry sounds at the top of my lungs in the car. I contemplated buying a pack of smokes.

I pulled into Little Flower and felt hopeful that just sitting in a pew listening to the quiet would spark something.

The door was locked. (When did they start locking church doors???)

I wept. I stood in that parking lot scattered with cars and I wept tears of just pure despair.

But then I looked up and I saw the prayer garden. Circular, with small benches surrounding a statue of Our Lady. Or maybe it was St. Therese. It doesn’t matter. Behind it was a small labyrinth with instructions to enter with an open heart, meditate while walking the labyrinth, and exit it with a peaceful thankfulness. I sat on one of the benches to try and clear my head. I figured I’d pray the rosary and then it occurred to me that it was Tuesday. Of course.

The Sorrowful Mysteries. Eyeroll. I couldn’t get glorious or joyful? Something uplifting? (See what I did there????)

I said my rosary. I was cold (wearing a skirt, remember) and weepy and feeling like I was too screwed up to get it together to honor little Q.

But something happened as I fell deeper into meditative prayer (I know, I know, who am I?). A peace fell upon me at the fifth mystery.

Woman behold your son. Son behold your Mother.

The sun at that moment hit my face. I looked up to the sky and saw the moon as the clouds swirled.

I smiled. Took a deep breath. Because it was then that I knew.

I knew that it was in the arms of the Blessed Mother where Quinn Harper is safe and loved.

As am I.

As is Amber.

As is my Bridget being my earthly life to end.

As are all the motherless babes and the babeless mothers.

A droplet of rain glimmered in the brief warmth of the sun as I entered the center of the labyrinth. I felt hopeful. I turned to exit the labyrinth and saw my body cast a long shadow through a row of boxwoods in the shape of the cross. Make of that what you will.

Rather than me doing something to honor Quinn that day, she helped me. Helped me acknowledge some of my grief, helped me find solace in prayer, helped me look for other ways to find peace when the obvious path of day drinking alone at the View lost its appeal when I remembered you couldn’t smoke in bars anymore.

I blew Quinn a kiss and made it through the day.

However, I knew I wasn't done and I left my heart open looking for a way to pay it forward.

On Saturday I received a text from an old friend that I hadn’t talked to in a while. The kind of friend you can not talk to for a while or months or years but is still family.

He and his husband had signed up to be foster parents and had been (long-term? permanently?) placed with two little girls, 3 and 4. Sisters.

And then I knew. I knew how to pay it forward in honor of one little girl to two others that so desperately needed it.

That night I sent a Target delivery of cabbage patch dolls, coloring books, crayons, fruit snacks, juice boxes, cereal bars, pajamas, cuddly blankets, bath toys, kiddy spoons, forks, bowls and plates, goldfish crackers, pudding packs, mini muffins, peanut butter, honey, uncrustables, raisins, bubbles, a bubble machine, bigger kid sippy cups, shampoo, tangle spray, string cheese, mandarin oranges, mac and cheese, smoothies, pull-ups, wipes, fridge magnets, Rapunzel, Cinderella, peanut butter crackers, and stickers.

I felt joy. Joy that these little girls had warm beds and a loving home. Joy that my friend had been gifted this experience. Joy that a contentedness had befallen me as I felt my contribution to #thequinneffect was complete. Joy that even though I knew all too well that contentedness is temporary, so is sorrow.

For years I've been saying "When I start my blog...". I think this is it. Post #1. Could be the first of many, could be the last. Whatever, I did it.

Thanks, Q. I owe you.

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jenniferfaye34 · 5 years ago

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#Giveaway ~ "heartwarming and sweet romance" THE #PRINCE AND THE #WEDDING PLANNER by Jennifer Faye... #excerpt #books #romance #readers #royal #amreading #PrincPrism

On Tour with Prism Book Tours We hope you enjoyed the tour! If you missed any of the stops you'll find snippets, as well as the link to each full post, below:

Launch - Note from the Author

Thanks so much for joining me for the launch of The Bartolini Legacy trilogy. This family saga filled with secrets, surprises and lots of romance begins with THE PRINCE AND THE WEDDING PLANNER. . . . I hope you’ll join Bianca and Prince Leo in this royal romance as they wrestle with the past and come to terms with the present in order to have a happily ever after future. Happy reading, — Jennifer

Rockin' Book Reviews - Review

"In her familiar style, Jennifer Faye, once again, creates a wonderful "feel good" novel which is sure to leave the reader uplifted and entertained. . . . Within this tale, is a whirlwind of fun, often unexpected events, which will keep the reader eagerly anxious for the next page. The characters are delightfully endearing. and portrayed well. The background scenes and events are well described, allowing the reader the feel he/she is there, experiencing it."

Thoughts of a Blonde - Excerpt

“I… I’ll be there.” Bianca turned her back to her brother, not wanting him to see the unshed tears shimmering in her eyes. She could be strong like him. She could get through this agonizing day without crumbling into a million pieces. She needed to think about anything but the hollow spot in her heart. She lifted her head and her gaze came to land on the old photos on the wall. It was a collage of her grandparents, her parents’ wedding and herself and her two siblings. They’d all looked so happy— “Bianca, they loved you.” And then her brother exited the room, closing the door softly.

Books and Zebras - Review

"I've become a fan of Jennifer Faye's simplistic warm hearted stories. The Prince And The Wedding Planner did not disappoint. This story is delightfully entertaining and charming. The premise is unique and fun, and I just love a good royal romcom. . . . Bianca and Prince Leo are quite adorable in close company, and I enjoyed reading their story. This was a fast read for me. In the end, it's the kind of story that will make you smile!"

Pause for Tales - Review

"This was a sweet romance that took you out of everyday life and into a life of royalty. Which certainly is no picnic at times but there is [definitely] some advantages. Leo and Bianca instantly hit it off and of course there is an immediate attraction. What follows is should they or shouldn't they follow their hearts desire and go against expectations or after his sister's wedding go their own separate ways."

Wishful Endings - Excerpt

. . . Truth be told, there was another woman that had caught his attention. Her hair was dark and her skin glowed a warm tan. He noticed that she spoke when addressed but for the most part she was quiet. And when she did speak, her voice was soft. He caught himself staring at her more than once. Maybe it was because she didn’t make a point of walking up to him and introducing herself like so many of the other people. In fact, she acted as though she didn’t even know he was royalty. Could that be possible? Regardless, his interest in the beautiful woman increased. It’d been a while since he’d enjoyed a woman’s company. With his pending engagement and marriage—a necessity in order to ascend to the throne—he wasn’t in a position to start anything. But for the moment, he was still a free man.

Bookworm Lisa - Review

" It's cute and fun. It is a romance that many people like to fantasize about. The characters are interesting and their story keeps the book moving at a good pace. It is easy to read and engaging. This is a book that is an escape when you need a few minutes to relax and enjoy a book."

Jorie Loves A Story - Review

"Throughout the story, Faye wants you to remember to hold back judgment and to see how her characters choose to take steps to reassert their own independence in their lives. They each desire to find happiness and to catch it as long as they can whilst dealing with obligations none of them are truly ready or prepared to accept. Its a lovely story about the fortitude one needs to survive the ruts in the road life brings along whilst keeping hopeful about the future which is never quite written in stone as some would like to believe! . . . Faye writes realistic narratives for today's Romance reader and that is exactly why I love continuing to follow her publishing journey."

Deal Sharing Aunt - Review

"This is a great book about love. The love between a family, a couple, and even a kingdom. . . . I can not wait to see how the rest of this series plays out."

Reading Excursions - Review

"This was a sweet, fun, and whirlwind read. I didn’t even know it was over until I got to the last page. The author’s vivid writing brought the scenery to life. Bianca and Leo were such a perfect couple, and it was easy to see where the novel was going. The romance element was absolute perfection . . . The author does a terrific job of keeping the pace going for the romance. This short, but addictive little read is the perfect beach day or even rainy day read."

Andi's Book Reviews - Excerpt

“I’m confused,” he said. “Are you a guest of the bride or the groom?” “Neither. I’m their wedding planner, Bianca Bartolini.” He hadn’t expected that response. He must be slipping. He was usually very good at reading people. It probably had something to do with the turmoil back at the palace. By the time he turned in at day’s end, he usually had a headache that kept him up until late into the night. He needed to do something to bring peace back to the palace. If he couldn’t do that for his family, how would he ever keep peace over the nation?

Two Points of Interest - Review

"I have read a few of Jennifer's books and have enjoyed this one. . . . Overall, it was a quick read and I can't wait to read the rest of the novels."

Harlie's Books - Review

"I loved Leo and Bianca as a couple. They are sweet together and compliment each other. . . . I can’t wait to read the other two books in the series. I will miss the Queen and how she deals with Bianca and Leo’s relationship but upward and onward. Again, Ms. Faye has written a beautiful book about two characters that you will like and want to keep in touch with."

Baroness' Book Trove - Excerpt

“Bianca Bartolini, I’d like to introduce you to His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Leopold of Patazonia.” Once again, Bianca curtsied. She willed her face to cool down, but it only succeeded in making her warmer. Goodness. What was he going to think of her? First, she was openly staring at him. And now her face must look like a roasted beet—all red and steamy. Not good. Not good at all. “You’ve put on a splendid wedding,” the prince said. “I’ve quite enjoyed it.” “Th…thank you, Your Highness.” “The prince is searching for a wedding planner,” Benito said. “And I was telling him what a great job you did with our wedding.”

Peaceful Pastime - Review

"This is the first book in a new series by Jennifer Faye and it promises to be quite a wonderful series based on this book. . . . I thought this is an engaging story with charming characters and the perfect way to spend a relaxing afternoon or week-end getting lost in a book."

Splashes of Joy - Review

"The author does a great job of writing this story, weaving together the many different issues going on, and giving readers a wonderful story that will stay with me for a while. Some couples I just can’t get off my mind, and this as one of them. If you enjoy romance, check this one out. It’s a pretty fast read, and will give you a few hours of enjoyment and entertainment."

Locks, Hooks and Books - Review

"I love Jennifer Faye’s books and The Prince and the Wedding Planner is no different. . . . I highly recommend it for readers who enjoy a quick, heartwarming and sweet romance."

underneath the covers - Excerpt

As though Bianca sensed his presence behind her, she turned. “Your Highness.” She dipped her chin. “Is there something I can do for you?” Just then the orchestra started to play a new song. It’d been a while since he’d danced and from what he’d observed, Bianca hadn’t let up on her duties long enough to enjoy the evening. It was wrong for her to miss out on such a marvelous evening. With the lanterns sending a warm cast over the patio area, he asked, “Would you care to dance?”

Hallie Reads - Review

"An unexpected romance develops in Jennifer Faye’s The Prince and the Wedding Planner, the first of her Bartolini Legacy trilogy, and it is so fun. . . . I always enjoy a romance from Faye. Falling in love with a prince is a traditional childhood fantasy, and I enjoyed seeing the drama of that fantasy playing out on the pages of The Prince and the Wedding Planner."

Bookish Jottings - Review

"A wonderful romantic read, The Prince and the Wedding Planner is sheer reading delight from beginning to end. Jennifer Faye has written an emotional and dramatic tale sprinkled with humor, warmth and heart which readers will read in a single sitting as they find themselves completely and utterly bowled over by Leo and Bianca’s love story and unable to put the book down."

Don't forget to enter the giveaway at the end of this post...

The Prince and the Wedding Planner (The Bartolini Legacy #1)

By Jennifer Faye

Contemporary Romance

Paperback & ebook, 256 Pages

March 1st 2020 by Harlequin Romance

When different worlds collide…

…sparks fly!

With her family name on the line, wedding planner Bianca Bartolini needs this royal wedding to go perfectly—she can’t afford distractions. Too bad the bride’s dashing brother has other plans! Duty-bound Crown Prince Leo has mere weeks to announce his own engagement, but none of the candidates measure up to Bianca. They’re the most unlikely match, but might that just make them perfect for one another?

(Affiliate links included.)

Go to Jennifer's Contact Page HERE and order your bookmark(s)!

Tour Schedule

March 2nd:

Launch

Rockin' Book Reviews

Thoughts of a Blonde

Books and Zebras

March 3rd:

Pause for Tales

Wishful Endings

Bookworm Lisa

Jorie Loves A Story

March 4th:

Deal Sharing Aunt

Reading Excursions

Andi's Book Reviews

Two Points of Interest

March 5th:

Harlie's Books

Baroness' Book Trove

Peaceful Pastime

Splashes of Joy

March 6th:

Locks, Hooks and Books

underneath the covers

Bookish Jottings

Hallie Reads

March 7th:

Grand Finale

About the Author

Award-winning author, Jennifer Faye pens fun, heartwarming contemporary romances with rugged cowboys, sexy billionaires and enchanting royalty. Internationally published with books translated into nine languages. She is a two-time winner of the RT Book Reviews Reviewers' Choice Award, the CataRomance Reviewers' Choice Award, named a TOP PICK author, and been nominated for numerous other awards.

Tour Giveaway

- One winner will receive a $25 Amazon gift card and one of Jennifer's backlisted titles, winner's choice of print (US only) or ebook (if outside the US)

- Three winners will each receive one of Jennifer's backlisted titles, winner's choice of print (US only) or ebook (if outside the US)

Ends March 11, 2020

ENTER HERE

#The Prince and the Wedding Planner #The Bartolini Legacy #Jennifer Faye #Contemporary Romance #royal romance #wedding #prince #wedding planner #Italy #Prism Book Tours #Hearts & Scribbles

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vampireadamooc · 8 years ago

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A very odd reprinting of the 1905 story by Harold Simpson; The Bat in the Bathroom

it was originally published (I believe, I might be wrong though) in the February 22nd issue of The Sketch - A Journal of Art and Actuality no 630 vol XLIX

IT was a somewhat pretentious house, standing in the suburbs somewhere south-east of London. A decadent verandah ran round the front, from which hung in all directions the mangled remains of what had once been a Virginia creeper. There was an air of untenancy about it which might have suggested all kinds of tragic horrors to the imaginative: pestilence, murder, ghosts, or typhoid. But Mrs. Samuel Gubbins was not imaginative. Perhaps Samuel Gubbins might have been under different circumstances, but if he was he never showed it; he lacked the courage necessary for such a display. ,

“l think it will suit us," said Mrs. Samuel Gubbins.

“l am sure it will," echoed Miss Samuel Gubbins.

“Looks a bit damp,” suggested Samuel Gubbins junior, with a pluck that was not inherited from his father.

“Damp, nonsense l " ‘retorted Mrs. Samuel. The faint spark of heroism died down. And Mr. Samuel Gubbins the elder said nothing.

The Samuel Gubbinses (so called to distinguish them from the family of Nathaniel Gubbins, who kept a grocer’s shop, while Samuel—and don't you forget it !-—was something in the City) had lived all their lives in the suburbs. They had, moreover—after, in a neighbonrly way, Mr. Samuel had asked Miss Honoria Williams to share his destiny with him, and she, nothing loth, had hurried matters to a climax, for fear that he should change his mind—lived all their life in one house, and it was there that Miss and Master Samuel Gnbbins had been born and bred. They had, at any rate, been born, though Mrs. Samuel in her secret heart cherished the conviction that Joe, as they called young Samuel, was the acme of good-breeding. Privately she admired his spirit when he opposed her, while publicly she crushed him as flat as any beetle.

Her daughter Honoria gave her less pleasure, though she was an exact counterpart of what she herself had been in her youth. Possibly, Mrs. Samuel, like the rest of us, objected to having her past flaunted so continuously before her; perhaps she detected in Honoria a secret allegiance to her father, an allegiance always openly and vehemently repudiated, but existing, so Mrs. Samuel believed, all the same. Outwardly, Miss Honoria’s sentiments were only faint echoes of her mother's, hilt there were times when that good lady had her suspicions. For several years Mrs. Samuel had been yearning for higher things; she wanted a house that would enable her to make a little more show, without, if possible, paying any more in the way of rent. Besides, the proximity of the grocer brother-in-law round the corner was a constant thorn in her side. But such houses were not easy to get, even in the suburbs; and now, when, after much searching, they had stumbled upon this El Dorado, Mrs. Samuel's mind was instantly made up. For the rent was delightfully low, while the house had a certain amount of style which went straight to her heart. It was a little out of order, certainly, but, doubtless, the landlord could be induced to do something in the way of repairs, while they would, at any rate, be rid of the grocer brother-in-law. Thus, her mind was made up before she set foot in the house; but she went through the tour of inspection in a critical manner, as a concession to the conventionalizes.

Samuel viewed the house with dismay. His dislike for it was as instant as his better-half’s approval. He considered it far too pretentious; it would take a terrible lot of keeping up, and he groaned inwardly as he thought of the drain upon his slender income. Why was it that a woman could never be content in her proper sphere of life? Man, he reflected bitterly, knew his place and stayed there; but woman must for ever be ousting someone else, or pushing her way on to a plane which was far too high for her, from which dizzy height she was constantly in imminent danger of tumbling headlong and breaking her neck, to say nothing of her own and her husband's reputation for sanity. Samuel (iubbins pondered all those things in his heart, but he said nothing. And so the tour of inspection continued.

There was no one to- show them round. They had been told to call next-door for the key, and to leave it there when they had finished.

“ Doesn't look as if the landlord had much hope of our taking it," remarked Samuel junior, with another brief show of spirit.

But Mrs. Samuel was too engrossed in her occupation this time even to repeat her formula about not talking nonsense. She merely sniffed. And Samuel junior made no further comment for some time. One thing, however, annoyed her greatly. By some inadvertence, two or three of the rooms were locked up, and by no possible means could they effect an entrance, though Mrs. Samuel thought the men of the party poor creatures in consequence. But there it was. Wither they would have to take those rooms on trust, or they would have to pay a second visit of inspection another day. Samuel junior was dispatched by his mother to the people next-door, but came back with the message that they knew nothing about the rooms, and supposed they were always locked.

" Nonsense ! ” said Mrs. Samuel, irritably. But this slight check had only increased her determination. She set her lips tight and turned to her husband.

“ We will take the house, Samuel,” she said.

“ What, without seeing the other rooms?" cried Miss Honoria, off her guard for the moment. But, meeting her mother’s glance the next instant, she went very red and turned away.

It was then that Samuel the elder threw a bombshell into their midst.

“I believe that this house is haunted, and that is why these rooms are locked,” he declared, with some vigor.

They all looked at him in astonishment. Mrs. Samuel was too taken aback at the fact of his having expressed an opinion at all to have any retort ready for the moment, or even to grasp the drift of his remark. Samuel junior opened his mouth wide, and closed it again as he gazed at his parent, while only in Miss Honoria's eyes was there a responsive twinkle.

Mrs. Samuel at length found speech.

“What nonsense have you got into your head now, Samuel?”she inquired, wrathfully. “Of course, there is no necessity to see the rooms. Haunted, indeed !”

But she had run her head up against a situation which was different from anything she had ever experienced.

“I shall not take the house until I have seen those rooms," retorted Samuel, firmly. “ We must come again another day."

"Come another day!” snorted Mrs. Samuel. “ Really, Samuel, you talk as though you had a million of money to jingle in your Think of the expense, and time, and trouble, and all I”

But Samuel was obdurate. They returned the key to the people next-door, informed them that they intended to pay a second visit later on, when they could get the rooms opened, and made the best of their way home.

It would be difficult to say which was the most astonished member of the party. Mrs. Samuel was literally flabbergasted: twenty-seven years of married life had never prepared her for anything like this. Samuel junior, in his own mind, thought it a rum go, and wondered what the deuce had come to the governor. But Honoria took her father's arm as they walked to the station. Whereat her mother sniffled again, though this time with but poor effect.

And now to inquire into the cause of Mr. Samuel Gubbins’s most marvelous and sudden transformation. It has been said that under happier conditions he might have proved to he possessed of an imagination. Though these happier conditions had never prevailed, there seems no doubt that somewhere at the back of Samuel's nature lurked the explosive spark which only required ignition to set fire to the train : illumination had come upon him like a flash ; and imagination, heavily curbed and bitted till now, to vary the metaphor somewhat, had, figuratively, taken the bit between its teeth and run away with him. Like a bolting cab-horse in a London street, it fairly ran riot, knocking over and annihilating everything that stood in its way for opposition. Well might Mrs. Samuel stand aghast. She was much in the position of a policeman who until now has quelled and directed the tumult of traffic with the uplifting of one hand, but, face to face with this new and unexpected development, stands aside in one brief moment of hesitation, and in a flash the runaway is past him, with confusion in its track. So did the imagination of Mr. Samuel Gubbins flit past Mrs. Samuel Gubbins like.a veritable dream-horse, and leave her open-eyed and open-mouthed upon the street of her perplexity.

If the truth be told, not the least astonished of them all was Mr. Samuel Gubbins himself. Once astride upon his Pegasus, he was committed to the full flight of fancy that had taken hold of him, but he was in a state of complete bewilderment as to how he had got there. Still, he clung to the saddle in desperation. _ It was finally decided that they should revisit the house in a week's time. Mr. Gubbins was to see the landlord, who lived in town, in the meanwhile, and get him to promise to have the rooms opened. For that week he still lived in his exalted state. Mrs. Samuel felt almost afraid of him, and the poor little man passed through an Arcady of peace that had not been his since his wedding-day. A night or two after their visit to the house, he arrived home with a parcel under his arm. This parcel, when opened, was found to contain a collection of books, which, upon further investigation, proved to be various works, ranging from fiction to science, on the subject of vampires.

After dinner he insisted on reading extracts from these to the assembled circle, and in his present condition there was no one found bold enough to say him nay. For a whole week the Gubbins family lived in an atmosphere of vampires; they ate vampires, drank vampires, dreamt vampires, until Mrs. Samuel's nerves were reduced to such a pitiable state that she trembled at every sound, and frequently took fright at her own shadow. With the peculiarity of the nervously distraught, she piled on the horrors by reading the books herself in the daytime while Samuel was away. and by the end of the week she was as nearly as possible a complete wreck, mental and physical. Even Samuel junior was affected by the prevailing depression, and no longer indulged in his fancy for sitting up late at night, a proceeding that his mother had suffered on the understanding that it was considered good form.

But Honoria appeared as calm as usual, though, for the sake of appearances, she felt bound to echo a little of her mother’s nervousness. Yet she might frequently have been caught watching her father with a perplexed and pondering air.

The fateful day arrived. The Gubbinses had seen the landlord, who had promised to have the rooms opened at once, and had given his solemn assurance that there was nothing wrong with the house.

“ It's a charming place," he had said; “I feel half tempted, if you don't take it, to live in it myself."

“ He seemed,” said Mr. Gubbins, in recounting this conversation, “ a little over-anxious to persuade me that the house was all right."

"Only what you and I should have done in his place, Samuel, if the house was ours,” retorted Mrs. Gubbins, whose drooping spirits were beginning to revive a little at the prospect of seeing the house again.

"Yes, quite true, my dear,” said Samuel, meekly. But there was a look in his eyes which seemed to give the lie to his lamb-like demeanour.

Mr. Gubbins was to come down straight from town and meet them at the house. He was there before them, and, as he stood upon the steps to watch their advent, be literally beamed upon them.

“ It ’s all right, my dear," he cried; “ the rooms are all open. We shall be able to see over the house thoroughly."

They entered the house. Mrs. Gubbins rested for a moment or two in the hall to recover her breath, for they had walked from the station. Honoria and Samuel junior took the opportunity of wandering off by themselves on a tour of inspection. Mr. Gubbins noted this fact with a gleam of satisfaction. Presently he and his spouse followed them. They looked into one or two of the hitherto unexplored rooms, and Mrs. Gubbins expressed her satisfaction. As they moved towards the last of the new discoveries, Mr. Gubbins let fall a casual remark.

“I wish,” he said, "we had not been reading all those books about vampires. It makes one feel more than ever that this house might be haunted."

“Nonsense! ” said Mrs. Samuel. But the excessive irritation of her tone betrayed an under-stratum of nervousness.

“ Yes, I suppose it is nonsense, my dear," assented Mr. Gubbins, with all his old-time meekness.

He opened the door. Mrs. Gubbins pushed past him and looked in. It seemed as though there were shutters over the window, for there was hardly a gleam of light in the room. But through the shadows could be dimly discerned the clear, cold outline of a bath.

“Why, it’s a bath-room ! "‘ cried Mrs. Gubbins, delightedly.

“ There is nothing wonderful about a bath-room, surely, my dear,” suggested Mr. Gubbins, from the door.

"Wonderful, Samuel! How foolish you are!” she retorted.

“ But you will, perhaps, recall the fact that we have no bath-room in our present house." She advanced a step or two into the darkness. Mr. Gubbins retreated a little farther into the passage, drawing the door imperceptibly towards him.

“True, my dear,” he murmured. _

“I must really get those shutters open, and see what it's like," said Mrs. Samuel, with sudden determination. She advanced another few steps. With a swift crash, Mr. Gubbins banged the door and turned the key. There was an ejaculation, compounded of surprise and anger, from inside the room. Mr. Gubbins stood with the handle of the door in his hand, perspiration pouring from his brow, and every limb trembling. Then all at once there was a series of the most heart-rending shrieks. Mr. Gubbins trembled more than ever, but did not move from his position. Still the shrieks arose, increasing intensity. Attracted by the clamour, Honoria and Samuel junior came rushing down the passage. They found their father vainly struggling to open the bath-room door. _

“Your mother!" he gasped; "in there!”

And still the shrieks arose, until the sound of a heavy fall cut them short, and there succeeded to the tumult a calm far more terrible and more nerve breaking than the tumult itself. With a strength born of desperation, Mr. Gubbins forced the door. All three were nearly precipitated into the room. Something fluttered past their heads and disappeared into the house. The room was still dark, but the form of their mother, stretched at full length upon the floor, became visible as their eyes grew used .to the gloom. With some difficulty they dragged her out. Samuel junior rushed to the people next-door for brandy. By the time he returned with it his mother had partially revived. She made for Mr. Gubbins at once.

“What do you mean by locking the door on me, Samuel?" she demanded, with as much sternness as her dishevelled condition of mind and body would allow.

Mr. Gubbins looked at her and shook his head mysteriously.

“ You may well ask that, Honoria," he said, in a low voice, peering furtively the while over his shoulder. Then he shuddered dramatically.

“As I stood there by the door,” he went on, in the same mysterious voice, “I felt, all of a sudden, a chilly blast of air pass over me, the door banged in my face, and I was knocked backwards into the passage. Hearing your frantic cries for help, I arose and threw myself against the door; it would not yield. Honoria and Samuel found me exerting all my strength against it, and lent their aid. At last it opened. I thought it never would open. And then we found you prostrate upon the floor.”

“But what was it, mother, that made you scream?” broke in Miss Honoria. '

“ Scream ! ” said Mrs. Gubbins, all her agitation returning at the remembrance. “ Scream! I wonder who wouldn't scream, shut up alone in the dark, with some uncanny, black thing, cold and clammy, flapping in their face. The more I fought it, the more it came at me; it clutched at my hair, beat its wings in my eyes and my ears, tore at my lips with its claws, until, overcome with exhaustion and screaming, I sank to the ground."

“ It flew past us as we opened the door," said Samuel junior, in a choked voice.

“ What can it have been ?" asked Honoria.

“ I feared it,” said her father, lugubriously. Then, in an awful tone, he uttered the one word, “ Vampire! "

With a fearful shriek, Mrs. Gubbins went off into oblivion again. They got her downstairs as best they could, procured a cab, and, somehow, they reached the station, and so home. And never from that day to this has the subject been mentioned again between them. And the Samuel Gubbinses still live in the same house in which Honoria and Samuel junior were born and bred. But on Honoria's wedding-day, when she was saying good-bye to her father before going away, there passed a word or two of intimate conversation.

“ Good-bye, dear father,” said Honoria.

“ Good-bye, Honoria. I trust that you will be very, very happy."

She looked at him mischievously.

“ There are dealers in Seven Dials who have bats for sale, aren’t there, father?” she asked, unexpectedly.

On Mr. Gubbins's face appeared a look of consternation.

" All right, father dear; I won’t tell,” Honoria whispered. “ And you managed it very well.” _

Gradually Mr. Gubbins recovered his self-possession. He raised his eyes to Honoria's. Then a little, rippling smile broke in waves over his face.

“Treat him well, Honoria,” he murmured, whimsically, pointing to her husband.

#most tags are not vila's #tags preserved for the commentary of the op #or are used for index and search features #Long Post #Text Post #Vampire Fiction #1905 #the bat in the bathroom #News Clippings #clipping

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shalnarkonice · 8 years ago

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A gift for @geeky-afakasi with help from @beamthechao who inspired this fantastic chinera ant au💖💖

The sound of designer heels, an expensive pair that was most likely studded in rivers of diamonds and hugged by velvet and gold, clicks against the marble floors. It was amazing how a sound so mundane, so everyday, could be the cause of such chaos in a professional, well known, multi million dollar company.

Now it wasn’t rare to hear a pair of heels bang against smooth tile (seeing how most of the women and few men preferred the footwear), but it was sharp tack tack tack, followed by the smell of roses that alerted most of the employees that the queen had made her appearance.

The Queen, better known as the CEO of chimera communications and technology, rarely visited head office. The queen was a figure head. An older woman with warm brown skin and large oval eyes, her locks lay hidden by a dark red hijab that covered silver hair which would give away her age. She was someone who made her way across the world with her hand picked team, cutting deals, and sometimes cutting throats when it came to hard business (all for a good cause, however).

There was no one in the world who could rival the empire she has built after the death of her late spouse, a cruel man who had given her nothing more than the one son who shared his facial characteristics, and had instantly become the woman’s pride and joy.

Being a single mother running a huge corporation had not been easy, but her employees were treated like family and as the company grew so did the bond between them

To the Queen’s right was Colt, walking in pace but always a step behind. He was one of the first men to be hired to work for the chimeras, his fierce ambition and sense of loyalty making him one of three executives in the entire company. With dark hair and sharp eyes, he always dressed professionally, his suit bearing tiny wings on the cufflinks as his one name brand element. He had coined the line himself, but always kept the chimera business dear to his heart, even as he travelled overseas with the queen to meet with other potential companies that they could overtake.

“There are exactly fifty four hours and twenty seven minutes before our plane to yorknew is due to leave.” Colt says with a firmness that would be appalling to most, but to the queen, it was a tone bearing utmost respect. “Once we land from our detour in NGL we will be greeted by the head of the Zodiac corporation. Netero will be providing our rooms and dinner reservations, as per agreement.”

“Make a note of it to have my things sent over from NGL to yorknew via private blimp.” She says swiftly, eyes running over the doors of offices where employees had pressed their faces against the glass in hopes of getting a view of the woman who had started it all.

“I will make a note of it and send the message directly later today.” Colt hums, his leather briefcase brushing against his thigh before someone darted into the hallway from seemingly nowhere, their blond hair flowing around them before being followed by a long silky black scarf and a whirlwind of glitter.

Glancing back at Pouf, the head of the financial division and the backbone of this locations funds (as well as a full time stick in the mud), Colt wasn’t surprised to see the man flustered. Colt had spent many months training with the blond, sometimes their ideas conflicting, until the rare moment where they made a earth shaking breakthrough together. When the queen had asked who would join her overseas, and who would manage head office (because it was only Pouf and Colt who she felt confident in placing this responsibility on), Pouf had been the one to lose the opportunity to be at her side, and was left behind.

Later Colt had learned Pouf had given up the chance so Colt could take it.

Although Colt didn’t exactly get along with the man, they had learned to accept and trust the other, but it amused Colt greatly at how flustered Pouf always seemed to be.

Pouf, with a clipboard and pen in hand, could not fathom the possibility of having overlooked this moment. Having Colt walk in suddenly would have been nothing to fret over. All Pouf needed to do was show some case files of their work stats and offer the man some black tea. But seeing the queen was often a blessing and a curse, as any employer would be.

Hearing chatter break out in the hallways they passed, Pouf could only hope to smother this tension over and lead the guests to his own office as he informed the buildings head of the affairs taking place.

“Madam president, your arrival is earlier than noted. I didn’t have time to prepare the paperwork or speak to the other department heads or even-” Pouf is cut off as the woman smiles at him.

“What did I say about you calling me madam president? I may be in my fifties but I’m not that old. Please, feel free to call me something less formal. Mother perhaps?” She chuckles as Pouf latches to her side, following her through the main lobby, “now, what are the numbers for this quadrant?” she asks, her tone shifting to one more appropriate for business.

“Twelve percent with an estimated point three gross over the next four months.” Pouf says proudly, his sharp eyes darting around the room in a panic, knowing what kind of insolent staff the building had and how lenient this divisions boss was. He wasn’t sure (or more like, he was very sure how afraid he was) of how the queen was going to react.

“And how is the department running, Pouf?” he jumps the the question he automatically dreaded, “has everything been going smoothly?” the woman prompts.

“Of course!” Pouf blurts out, lying being his first thought, “business is booming and the clients are all happy!”

“Fantastic, and what of the staff?”

Pouf winces a moment and shivers when Colts eyes focus on him, before glancing down at the butterfly wing charm on poufs collar, a product from Colts “wing” line.

“Absolutely amazing. The security is talented and have stopped all issues before they have time to unfold, especially from outside sources. Our scientists are busily working away on new creative, and very, very safe products for our consumers to buy into for the purpose of better communications. Our HR lead is one of the most positive and uplifting, provide amazing customer service and helping our staff with their personal qualms. Our head receptionist holds this family together, always working hard to keep everything in order. Ah, and the sales staff we have are not only respectful, but positively professional. We have three experts for our Public relations team who focus directly on branding our image with the goal of not only creating public events but also placing an emphasis on community. Our building manager is very active in taking care of any safety issues, as well as tending to the many plants we have in place to make a more positive environment. Our financial lead is like a caring father, who also manages to keep all the books updated weekly with our numbers. And of course, the department head and future CEO of the company has been the best, most supportive of leaders. We have no complaints about his ability.”

The Queen pauses and turns places a hand on Poufs arm, smiling in that ever so sweet way she did, reassuring him that his words were taken for face value and that she did not, even for a second, doubt him. It was that look that gave pouf severe guilt, because he knew. oh hell did he know that every word was just as far from the truth as it could be.

“With a staff like this im sure all has been going well,” she says firmly, turning around and continuing deeper into the building towards the cubicles in the open work space.

D A N G E R. The word flashes through Poufs mind, and Colt picks up on the sudden tension.

In seconds a large man with a suit as dark as his hair approaches, a finger to his ear as he starts speaking, his name tag reading Youpi, along with chief of security.

“Take the suspect to the west wing for investigation under clause 330 B, subsection c for trespassing.” Youpi says into his ear piece, before looking to Pouf who was trying yo subtly tell him to shut up. “It appears that NGL representatives have been protesting our use of technology again and this is the third break in this week at ground level. Bloster has apprehended the men and is now-”

“This is a situation we can easily deal with!” Pouf grimaces as he speaks as the queen continues to walk, listening to Youpi give his report as they enter what could only be a mess hall.

Passing the front desk for HR, sitting with his feet up talking away was Welfin, a tall, slender man with sharp eyes who had on a headset. Pouf could only hope the man was being civil.

“You think that’s a problem? Hell, you dont even know what a real trauma is. Seeing someone fight isn’t worthy of a sick leave, the hell.” Welfin barks up, leaning back in his chair, “you should see what I have to deal with here. One word, Zazan! I should be getting a four day weekend for putting up with her shit! Oh hell, Pouf!” Welfin hangs up and tosses the headset aside as he stands, following the group, not sure who the woman or the stiff were, but not caring in the slightest. “So that vacation I asked for, ya know the time off for next week, seeing how I’ve dealt with-”

Pouf feels his eyes roll back into his head as he resists grabbing Welfin and choking the man, all while youpi is still rambling about broken codes.

“I assure you we have the best staff,” Pouf raises his voice, gawking as Leol, Flutter, and Hina appear with huge posters and rave lights. Leol, tall and bulky in a band t-shirt, raises a hand at Pouf. Flutter, with his head of wiry hair, glances over Hina’s head, the petite woman jumping up excitably as the three rush over. Leol, as head of marketing, would often place up ads on buildings while Flutter would focus on anything skyward like blimps and billboards, while Hina dealt with television and radio ads.

“Pouf, bud!” Leol grins, the three joining the group, “we got everything we need for the sponsor party. Even sick music by Morel the euro god-”

“Great snacks and lots of booze!” Hina chimes in while raising a bottle of champagne as well as a few glow sticks.

“The entertainment will be showing up in a few hours,” Flutter buzzes, “we brought in quality chefs as well. The zodiacs have received their invites.

Trying to catch his breath, Pouf begs for it to stop. “We do not hold parties. We are professionals!”

“We decided to hire the dancers too,” Leol continues.

“I’m thinking two weeks is a little short, and I’ve been feeling under the weather so maybe three would suffice,” Welfin strokes his chin

“There has also been twelve incidents regarding broken office supplies that we are still in the process of replacing after last years incident,” Youpi rambles.

The group come across the secretary’s desk near the back of the large room, where the curly haired Zazan sits painting her nails, looking annoyed as a smirking, energetic man talks at her.

Spotting Pouf, Zazan grabs her nail filer and points it at him, “I do not get paid enough to deal with cheetu so you better get him the hell out of my face or so help me I’ll file for harassment!” she snarls, joining the group and listing everything Cheetu had done to annoy her.

“Our secretary is a loving, and respectable human being.” Pouf grits out, feeling Colts eyes bore into his back.

Cheetu, with zeal, heads to the front of the group, walking backwards with a grin as he waves for Poufs attention. The blond pales and his nails dig into his clipboard, his head shaking as in no, Cheetu, shut your damn mouth.

“Okay great! Listen up to my new pitch!” Cheetu clears his throat, his salesperson representative self coming out, “Tired? Tired of technology running slow? Don’t you wish you could talk faster? Don’t you wish you could talk so fast that you would be abletotalktoeveryoneallthe-” Cheetus rambling becomes too quick and excited to understand and pouf is dying.

The queen makes it into the science sector and slowly Pouf whispers oh no as the sound of an explosion occurs, before a slight smoke makes its way out of the door. No one is phased as a woman with white curly hair throws herself out of the room her white medical lab coat a little singed.

“That was a rush hell yea!” she coughs and notices the group, and leaps at pouf, “the new coolant adhesive is almost done! We’re making it less flammable but hell does it have a kick! It’s amazing! I’ve never seen subject 2I9H 3000 react so fiverantly, there have only been four explosions this week!”

Youpi taps his earpiece, “Pitou again. Send men to clean up. Extinguishers needed.”

“The vacation will help me relax and be a better HR lead! Come on, Pouf!”

“These explosions are horrible for my headaches, especially when dealing with idiots!” Zazan whines

“Ya know if the budget was increased we could totally bring in a sick bartender, like the phantom troupe are an A-class party must have, right Flutter?”

“Talk all the time with chimera communications! never stop! Never stop talking just keep taking always-”

“Ya know, with this experiment almost done, if i reversed the polarity I could probably make the adhesive into a bomb-”

“Dont!” Pouf yells over the chatter, “absolutely do not! Remove the thought from your mind!”

Pitou sulks as a new voice enters the fray, a short, bulky man with wise eyes and a beak nose. In his hands were slips of gray paper, and on his chest was a name tag reading Peggy, finance. Around his neck was a lanyard that held every nerdy button the man could get his hands on. Some like “checkmate for the king,” or “like a good friend chimera com is there,” and “edgar allen poe before hoes.”

“I’m glad you’re all here, because it’s pay day!” Peggy grunts out, and cheers amble around as the man hands out slips, watching them get tucked into pockets and shirts, or ripped open fiercely. “Now for this next trimester we need to cut back on some staff funds, and unfortunately that’s the amount of coffee we are buying each week.”

Zazan gawks as she stares at the man, “you monster!”

“Peggy are you insane? We all practically live off coffee,” Welfin shoves past Leol and Flutter, grabbing onto Peggy in disgust. “If I’m not able to make a coffee every two hours, I’ll die. Straight up. I might as well go on sick leave because I won’t be able to function.”

Cheetu nods his head vigorously, “how do you think i get to be the way I am? You think I’m always energetic! Nah! we need our espressos!”

Youpi side eyes the man and mutters under his breath, “he shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near caffeine”

“You’re not the boss of me!” Cheetu yelps, puffing out his chest.

Pouf steps between them and lifts the clipboard in front of cheetus face, “under a general consensus you will be provided only with decaf and you will accept it without complaint! We don’t need anymore incidents like last year-” Pouf gawks as the words slip out

Colt narrows his eyes as he places a hand on Poufs shoulder, “please elaborate.”

A collective breath moves through the group, almost as if there was the presence of a monster amongst them. Pouf could only cower, hoping someone else would step in so he wouldn’t have to.

“Rammot,” Zazan swirls the name in her mouth and grimaces, “that was the worst month, thank god he gone.”

“He was a menace,” Youpi murmurs, “theft, blackmail, slander, assault…”

“And a rude, ugly man to boot.” Hina murmurs, shaking a glow stick vigorously. “And the things he would wear around the office should have been enough of a crime to get him arrested!”

Leol rubs his chin, “I heard he went to jail for killing a man.”

Cheetu nods, “That doesn’t surprise me! What a creep! He punched me once!”

“He spit in my coffee,” Welfin bares his teeth.

Pitou cracks a knuckle, “I was tempted to kill him one time. Try experiment 541 on him.”

The Queen blinks back her surprise as a yell breaks the chatter of the group from the other side of the hall. A balky man with pierced eyebrows and long hair runs towards the group, almost at a gallop. Some could say that the man was horse like in his demeanor; although he lacked any grace and came off as a beast (who was into some questionable kinks, the other employees had unfortunately come to learn). Zazan and Cheetu grimace and step against the walls, knowing that the man with the snake tongue, Yunju, was bound to make a messy entrance.

In his hands he carried a large box, his two assistants (both thin and lean, sticking to Yunju as if they were mosquitoes) carried their own boxes.

Now Pouf wasn’t sure what Yunju did. He was…usually just there, with his vulgar mouth and that damn split tongue, which was pierced seeing how it made a clink as it touched his teeth as he spoke.

Part of Pouf wanted to say that Yunju had been hired to be a health rep, although it seemed like hell of a mistake on their hiring department if they did that. Perhaps Yunju was the hiring department. What a nightmare.

“Nyaa, the chief of privacy,” Pitou whines, looking at Youpi, who technically was the chief of security but never used the title, meaning he and Yunji should have been partners at least. It never happened.

Pouf pales, shocked that he had forgotten that this monster of a man was responsible for all their personal issues and privacy, especially from having their identities safe from being revealed online. Anti technology protesters had been getting more violent with each year

“Got the stuff!” Yunju smirks, spotting Colt, a new face in the crowd, “and a catch.”

Colt gives him a piercing glare, not interested in the man’s advances. Leol and Hina hoot and holler as they leap towards the box, only to have Youpi intervene.

Only now did it come to everyone’s realization that they had been chatting and yelling in front of a large oak door, the only in a long hallway. No one could remember when the tile floors had become carpet, or when the lights had become tinted red, or that it was silent in this sector. Candles and roses sit on their perches, and a glass wall sits opposite to the door, delicate but deadly looking fish filling the space.

Standing on a stool, with their back turned to the crowd, is Kite. Short, lanky, silent at most times, quietly feed the fish. Feeling eyes on their back; they which was covered in long white hair which he occasionally dyed red, he peers over to the crowd.

Despite taking up the role of gardener, and in charge of health and safety, kite was also the third executive of the company.

“Mother,” Kite says lowly, stepping down from the stool. Pouf had almost forgotten Kite was the Queens adopted child.

Behind the large oak doors would be the future CEO of the company, the lead of the entire building. A man who was young, yet notable in his early 20s. He had been a child genius, and eager to learn all from his many tutors. The future ceo was a terrifying and gifted man.

As the doors were thrown open, everyone in the hallway held their breath as Meruem appeared, silent, somber, his dark hair covering his forehead, his eyes looking sharp with pointed eyeliner and his purple contacts.

“What is the meaning of this noise?” Meruem asks, voice soft and yet almost sultry

Pouf hesitates and tries to work up the courage to offer an explanation, a reason, something to ease the heavy, smoggy tension.

“We….They…The Queen-” Pouf almost curses himself as tears spring to his eyes. How could he explain the motive behind the horrible staff. Everyone had left their posts! All they did was argue! Or fight! Or try to blow things up! Godawful, good for nothing trouble makers! Everyone here, and the queen had watched it all.

Meruem shifts his glance to the queen instead, slightly shocked.”Mother, Pouf did not inform me of your attendance.”

Pouf pales at the mention of his name, positive he was going to lose his damn job.

“I am sure you know why I came,” the woman says lowly, stepping forward to tower over the short man. “To see how you have run my company. To see your employees and their capabilities. To see if you are willing to inherit the CEO title when you turn 25…and to wish you a happy twenty third birthday.” she smiles, breaking from her facade.

Party poppers explode and balloons escape from the box Yunju was carrying. Ikalgo and Melodeon, two delivery boys, ran in with champagne, and cheering radiated through the hallway. Pouf, very quickly realized, this whole thing has been a set up.

“Lighten up pouf! It was fun wasn’t it!” Pitou hoots as glasses are passed around as a cake is brought into meruems office.

“Happy birthday!” is yelled out, and meruem feels his face flush as he beams at the gesture.

To be so loved by his family and company was a true blessing, Meruem realized, lost in a sea of voices. Despite being thankful, meruem knew that one day he would have that special someone here with him, to meet his mother and coworkers. But for now, Meruem would enjoy the impromptu party.

And pouf? Pouf would be fine

Well, after he stopped crying tears of relief that is

#hxh #meruem #pouf #chimera ants

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