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ooo-goon-fiction · 3 months ago

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Charity Boss To Media Whore

Inspired by “Media Whore” By: ChangeMe

Chapter One: The Offer

Chloe adjusted the collar of her worn denim jacket, the fabric soft from years of use, and knelt down to scratch behind the ears of a scruffy terrier mix named Biscuit. The small shelter she ran, *Paws and Purpose*, was bustling with activity that morning. Volunteers moved about, cleaning kennels, filling food bowls, and coaxing shy cats out of hiding. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic and kibble, a scent Chloe had come to associate with home. She smiled as Biscuit leaned into her hand, his tail thumping against the concrete floor.

“You’re such a good boy,” she cooed, her voice warm and melodic. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Chloe had always been drawn to animals. Their quiet resilience, their unconditional love—it was a language she understood better than most. Running the charity had been a dream since she was a child, and now, at twenty-six, she’d built something she was proud of. It wasn’t much—a modest building on the outskirts of town, a handful of dedicated volunteers, and a network of foster families—but it was hers. And it mattered.

“Chloe!” a voice called, pulling her from her thoughts. She turned to see Oriole striding toward her, her fiery red hair tied up in a messy bun and a clipboard clutched in her hand. Oriole was one of Chloe’s closest friends, a whirlwind of energy and determination who handled the shelter’s logistics with military precision. “We’ve got a problem with the supply delivery. They sent us cat food instead of dog food again. I swear, if I have to call them one more time…”

Chloe stood, brushing dog hair from her jeans. “I’ll handle it,” she said, her tone calm and reassuring. “You’ve got enough on your plate.”

Oriole sighed, her shoulders relaxing. “You’re a saint, you know that?”

“Hardly,” Chloe replied with a laugh. “Just trying to keep the chaos at bay.”

Before Oriole could respond, London appeared, her dark curls bouncing as she bounded into the room. London was the third member of their trio, a free spirit with a knack for photography and a heart as big as Chloe’s. She was holding her camera, a sure sign she’d been capturing moments around the shelter.

“You two are not going to believe this,” London said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I just got the most amazing shot of the new kittens. They were all piled up in a sunbeam, and it’s pure magic. I’m telling you, this could be our next fundraising campaign.”

Chloe grinned. “Let me see.”

London handed over the camera, and Chloe’s heart swelled as she scrolled through the photos. The kittens were adorable, their tiny faces bathed in golden light. “These are perfect,” she said. “You’re a genius, London.”

“I know,” London replied with a wink. “But seriously, we need to get these out there. The shelter could use the exposure.”

As if on cue, the bell above the front door jingled, signaling a visitor. Chloe turned, expecting to see a potential adopter or a volunteer. Instead, a man stepped inside, his presence immediately commanding the room. He was tall, with sharp features and dark hair that fell just so. His suit was impeccably tailored, a stark contrast to the casual, slightly disheveled vibe of the shelter. His eyes scanned the room before landing on Chloe, and a slow, almost imperceptible smile spread across his face.

“Chloe,” he said, his voice smooth and deliberate. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

She blinked, caught off guard. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

“Not officially,” he replied, extending a hand. “Seth Grayson. I’m a… let’s say, a fan of your work.”

Chloe shook his hand, her brow furrowing slightly. There was something about his tone, something she couldn’t quite place. It was pleasant enough, but there was an edge to it, a subtle sharpness that made her uneasy.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said politely. “What brings you to Paws and Purpose?”

Seth’s smile widened, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m here to offer my services. I specialize in public relations, and I think your little charity could benefit from some… professional attention.”

Chloe hesitated, glancing at Oriole and London. Oriole’s arms were crossed, her expression skeptical, while London looked intrigued.

“That’s very kind of you,” Chloe said carefully. “But we’re a small operation. I’m not sure we could afford—”

Seth held up a hand, cutting her off. “No charge. Consider it a donation. I admire what you’re doing here, Chloe. Truly. It’s rare to find someone so… selfless.”

There it was again, that edge. His words were complimentary, but they felt weighted, as if there was a second meaning lurking beneath the surface. Chloe shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to respond.

“I don’t know…” she began, but Seth stepped closer, his gaze locking onto hers.

“Think of the animals,” he said softly, his voice almost hypnotic. “Think of how much more you could do with the right exposure. I can make that happen for you.”

Chloe felt a strange pull, a mix of curiosity and unease. She glanced at her friends, but they seemed just as unsure as she was. Finally, she nodded. “Okay. Let’s give it a try.”

Seth’s smirk returned, faint but unmistakable. “Excellent. You won’t regret it.”

As he turned to leave, Chloe couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d just made a deal with the devil.

Chapter Two: The Spotlight

The morning of the press conference arrived with a flurry of activity. Chloe stood in front of the mirror in her small apartment, staring at the reflection of a woman she barely recognized. The designer dress Seth had insisted she buy clung to her frame in all the right places, its sleek lines and subtle shimmer making her feel like a movie star. Her hair had been professionally styled, her makeup flawless. She looked stunning, but it didn’t feel like her.

“It’s for the charity,” Seth had said the day before, his tone calm and logical. “The press will eat this up. You need to look the part if you want them to take you seriously. Think of it as an investment.”

Chloe had hesitated, her stomach twisting at the thought of spending charity funds on something so frivolous. But Seth’s words had a way of wrapping around her mind, quieting her doubts. “It’s not about you,” he’d added, his voice low and persuasive. “It’s about the animals. They deserve this chance.”

Now, as she smoothed the fabric of the dress, she tried to remind herself of that. The animals. This was for them.

---

When she arrived at the venue—a sleek, modern event space Seth had booked—Oriole and London were already there, waiting near the stage. Their jaws dropped as Chloe approached.

“Chloe?” Oriole said, her voice tinged with disbelief. “Is that you?”

London circled her, eyes wide. “You look… incredible. But also, what the hell? Since when do you wear thousand-dollar dresses?”

Chloe flushed, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “Seth said it was necessary. For the press.”

Oriole crossed her arms, her expression hardening. “Seth said, huh? I don’t like this, Chloe. He’s been here five minutes, and suddenly you’re dropping charity money on designer clothes? What’s next, a private jet?”

“It’s not like that,” Chloe protested, though her voice lacked conviction. “He’s just trying to help. He knows what he’s doing.”

“Does he?” London asked, her tone skeptical. “Because I’m getting major bad vibes from this guy. He’s way too smooth, and that smirk of his? Creepy.”

Chloe opened her mouth to defend him, but before she could, Seth appeared, his presence immediately commanding the room. He was dressed impeccably as always, his dark suit tailored to perfection. His eyes swept over Chloe, and that faint, unsettling smirk played on his lips.

“You look perfect,” he said, his voice smooth and approving. “The press is going to love you.”

Chloe felt a strange warmth at his words, a flicker of pride that she quickly pushed aside. “I’m nervous,” she admitted. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

Seth stepped closer, his gaze locking onto hers. “You’ll be fine. Just stick to the script. Remember, this is your moment. You’ve earned it.”

There was something about the way he said it, something that made her doubts melt away. She nodded, her mind feeling oddly fuzzy, as if his words were wrapping around her thoughts, guiding them.

---

The press conference began with Seth introducing Chloe, his voice smooth and confident as he painted her as a rising star in the world of animal advocacy. When it was her turn to speak, Chloe stepped up to the podium, the bright lights blinding her for a moment. She blinked, her mind feeling strangely blank, as if she’d forgotten why she was there.

“Thank you all for coming,” she began, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach. “I’m so honored to be here today.”

She paused, expecting the words about the charity to come flooding back. But they didn’t. Instead, she found herself talking about her journey, her passion, her vision. The words spilled out effortlessly, but they were all about her—her struggles, her triumphs, her dreams. She barely mentioned the animals, and when she did, it was in passing, as if they were an afterthought.

In the audience, Oriole and London exchanged worried glances. “What is she doing?” Oriole whispered, her voice tight with frustration. “This isn’t the plan.”

London shook her head, her eyes narrowing as she watched Seth, who stood off to the side, his expression one of quiet satisfaction. “This is his doing,” she muttered. “I don’t know how, but he’s got her under some kind of spell.”

---

When the press conference ended, the room erupted in polite applause. Chloe stepped away from the podium, her head spinning. She felt a strange sense of accomplishment, but it was tinged with unease, as if something wasn’t quite right.

Seth approached her, his smirk more pronounced than ever. “You were amazing,” he said, his voice dripping with false sincerity. “They loved you.”

Chloe smiled weakly, her mind still foggy. “Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Oriole and London rushed over, their expressions a mix of concern and anger. “Chloe,” Oriole said, her voice sharp. “What was that? You didn’t talk about the charity at all. You didn’t even mention the animals!”

Chloe blinked, confused. “I didn’t?”

“No,” London said, her tone firm. “It was all about you. Which, don’t get me wrong, you’re great, but that’s not why we’re here.”

Chloe’s stomach dropped as the realization hit her. She turned to Seth, her eyes wide. “What happened? Why didn’t I talk about the charity?”

Seth shrugged, his expression innocent. “You must have gotten nervous. It happens. Don’t worry, the press still got a great story.”

Oriole stepped forward, her eyes blazing. “This isn’t okay, Seth. You’re supposed to be helping her, not turning her into some kind of… puppet.”

Seth’s smirk faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered. “I’m just doing my job. If Chloe wants to take this charity to the next level, she needs to be the face of it. That’s how these things work.”

Chloe felt a pang of guilt, her mind still struggling to piece together what had happened. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” Seth interrupted, his tone dismissive. “We’ll do better next time.”

As he walked away, Oriole and London exchanged another look. “We need to do something,” London said quietly. “Before he ruins everything.”

Chloe nodded, though her mind still felt clouded. Deep down, she knew they were right. But there was something about Seth, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Something that made it hard to say no.

And that scared her more than anything.

Chapter Three: The Glow

The next morning, Chloe sat in the small office at *Paws and Purpose*, her fingers tracing the edge of the newspaper spread out on the desk in front of her. The headline read, *"Local Heroine Shines at Press Conference,"* accompanied by a full-page photo of her standing at the podium, the lights catching the shimmer of her designer dress. She looked radiant, confident, almost otherworldly. It was hard to believe it was really her.

Seth leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed and that ever-present smirk playing on his lips. "See? I told you they’d love you," he said, his voice smooth and self-satisfied. "You’re a natural."

Chloe couldn’t help but smile, her eyes lingering on the photo. She’d never seen herself like this before—polished, powerful, poised. It was intoxicating. "I guess you were right," she admitted, her voice soft. "They really did focus on… me."

"Of course they did," Seth said, stepping into the room. He placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch light but deliberate. "You’re the story, Chloe. People don’t just care about the charity; they care about the person behind it. And you? You’re unforgettable."

His words wrapped around her like a warm blanket, soothing and seductive. She felt a flicker of pride, but also a nagging unease. Something about the way he said it—the way he always said things—felt off, like there was a second meaning she wasn’t quite catching.

Before she could dwell on it, Oriole and London burst into the room, their expressions stormy. Oriole was holding a copy of the same newspaper, her jaw clenched. "Chloe, have you seen this?" she demanded, slapping the paper down on the desk. "It’s all about you. The charity is barely mentioned. And when it is—" She jabbed a finger at the last sentence of the article. "He got the name wrong. *Paws and Promise?* Really?"

Chloe blinked, her stomach sinking as she read the sentence. "Oh. I didn’t notice that."

"Of course you didn’t," London said, her tone sharp. "Because Seth here made sure the focus was on you, not the animals. Which, by the way, is the whole point of this charity."

Seth raised an eyebrow, his smirk never wavering. "I think you’re overreacting. The charity got a mention, didn’t it? That’s more exposure than you’ve had in years."

"Exposure with the wrong name!" Oriole shot back, her voice rising. "And don’t act like this was some innocent mistake. You’re manipulating her, and it’s disgusting."

Chloe flinched, her chest tightening. "He’s not manipulating me," she said, though her voice lacked conviction. "He’s just trying to help."

"Help who?" London asked, her eyes narrowing. "Because it sure doesn’t seem like he’s helping the animals."

Seth sighed, as if dealing with unruly children. "Ladies, let’s not get emotional. This is how PR works. You have to play the game if you want to win. And Chloe? She’s winning."

Chloe looked down at the newspaper again, her eyes drawn to the photo of herself. She looked so… perfect. It was hard to argue with results like that. But the unease in her chest was growing, a quiet voice in the back of her mind whispering that something wasn’t right.

"Maybe… maybe we can correct the name in the next article," she said hesitantly, glancing at Seth. "Right?"

"Of course," Seth said smoothly, his hand still on her shoulder. "We’ll make sure the name is front and center next time. But for now, let’s focus on the positive. Look at how far you’ve come, Chloe. You’re becoming a star. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?"

Chloe hesitated, her mind feeling foggy again. Was that what she wanted? She’d always dreamed of making a difference, of helping animals in need. But this… this felt different. It felt like the charity was becoming background noise, and she was the main event.

Oriole and London exchanged a look, their frustration palpable. "Chloe," Oriole said, her voice softer now, "this isn’t you. You’re not some… glamour girl. You’re the heart of this charity. Don’t let him turn you into something you’re not."

Chloe opened her mouth to respond, but Seth cut her off. "I think Chloe knows who she is," he said, his tone firm. "And she’s finally getting the recognition she deserves. If you two can’t see that, maybe you’re the problem."

The room fell silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Chloe felt torn, her mind pulling in two directions. Part of her wanted to listen to her friends, to remember why she’d started this charity in the first place. But another part—a louder part—was drawn to Seth’s words, to the image of herself in the newspaper. She looked so good. So important.

"Maybe… maybe we should just see how this plays out," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "Seth knows what he’s doing."

Oriole and London stared at her, their expressions a mix of disappointment and disbelief. "Chloe…" London began, but Seth interrupted again.

"Exactly," he said, his smirk widening. "Trust the process. You’re in good hands."

As he guided Chloe out of the room, Oriole and London watched in silence, their worry growing by the second. "This is bad," Oriole muttered. "Really bad."

London nodded, her jaw tight. "We need to do something. Before he ruins her—and the charity."

But for now, Chloe was too caught up in the glow of the spotlight to notice.

Chapter Four: The Change

The shelter was quieter than usual, the usual hum of activity replaced by an uneasy stillness. Chloe sat at her desk, flipping through the latest batch of press clippings Seth had brought her. Each one was filled with glowing praise for her—her poise, her passion, her beauty. The charity was mentioned in passing, if at all, but Chloe barely noticed. She was too caught up in the thrill of seeing herself in print, her image polished and perfect.

Across the room, London paced back and forth, her arms crossed and her expression stormy. She kept glancing toward the back door, where Seth had taken Oriole for a "chat" nearly twenty minutes ago. London’s instincts were screaming that something was wrong, but every time she tried to bring it up, Chloe brushed her off.

"Chloe, this isn’t right," London said, her voice tight with frustration. "Oriole’s been gone forever, and Seth… I don’t trust him. At all."

The back alley behind *Paws and Purpose* was a dank, claustrophobic sliver of gloom, the air thick with the stale reek of dumpster rot and the faint, pitiful hum of the shelter’s overtaxed generators. Oriole stood rigid, her arms crossed tight across her chest, her green eyes blazing with the cold fury of a woman who’d spent years clawing this charity out of nothing. She glared at Seth, who slouched against the slime-streaked brick wall, his posture lazy but his smirk sharp enough to cut glass. She wasn’t here to play nice—she was here to gut him.

“Alright, Seth,” she hissed, her voice a honed blade slicing through the murk. “Enough of your slimy tap-dancing. I’ve got you pegged. You’re turning Chloe into some dolled-up puppet, and the charity’s sinking into your shadow. I want the truth—right now. What’s your endgame?”

Seth didn’t even blink. He tilted his head back, letting out a slow, mocking chuckle that echoed off the damp walls like a taunt. “My endgame?” he said, his voice dripping with oily contempt. “Oh, Oriole, you’re adorable when you think you’re in control. Fine, I’ll bite—I don’t give a single festering fuck about your pathetic little shelter or those whining, flea-bitten mutts. They could all drop dead tomorrow, and I’d sleep like a baby. I’m here for Chloe. She’s a walking paycheck—model material, influencer gold. I’m gonna squeeze every cent out of her pretty little face, and that’s all that matters.”

Oriole’s breath caught, her fists clenching as his words sank in like poison. “You’re admitting it?” she spat, her voice trembling with rage. “You’re just a leech—a greedy, soulless bastard here to bleed Chloe dry and let the animals starve? You’re disgusting.”

Seth’s smirk widened, baring teeth, his eyes glinting with a sick, gleeful malice. “Disgusting? Nah, I’m practical. Chloe’s got the goods—legs, smile, that doe-eyed sparkle that makes idiots empty their wallets. Why waste her scrubbing kennels when she could be strutting for cash? The charity? It’s a sob-story prop—good for a photo op, nothing else. I’ll milk it ‘til it’s dry, then toss it like the trash it is.”

She took a step forward, her voice dropping to a lethal snarl. “You’re a monster. I’ve poured my life into this place—every late night, every donor pitch, every goddamn spreadsheet—and you think you can just slither in and turn it into your personal piggy bank? I’ll bury you, Seth. I’ll expose you to Chloe, to everyone, and watch you choke on your own lies.”

Seth straightened, his casual slouch vanishing as he loomed closer, his presence suddenly oppressive, his gaze boring into hers like a drill. “Oh, Oriole,” he purred, his voice low and venomous, “you’re so fucking clever, aren’t you? That’s the problem—you’re too clever. You’ve seen through my little game, and that makes you a liability. Guess what? I don’t like liabilities.” His smirk twisted into something feral, his eyes glinting with cruel intent. “So that big, shiny brain of yours? It’s done. Time for it to go buh-bye—slowly, painfully, and oh-so-permanently.”

Oriole flinched, her instincts screaming as she stepped back. “What the hell are you talking about? You think you can intimidate me into shutting up?”

Seth laughed—a sharp, jagged sound that clawed at the air. “Intimidate? No, no, darling. I’m not asking you to shut up—I’m making you too stupid to talk. You’re a threat, and I don’t tolerate threats. So let’s have some fun, hmm? Let’s peel that pesky intelligence right out of your skull and leave something… simpler behind.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a hypnotic, serpentine whisper that coiled around her mind like a noose. “You feel it already, don’t you? That little tickle in your head?”

Her head jerked, a sudden fog seeping into her thoughts, thick and disorienting. “Stop it,” she snapped, shaking her head hard. “Whatever you’re trying, it’s not gonna work. I’m not some pushover you can—”

“Shhh,” Seth cut her off, his voice sinking deeper, a relentless tide eroding her will. “Don’t fight it, Oriole. All that thinking, all that stress—it’s so heavy, isn’t it? Like a big, ugly brick on your shoulders. Why carry it? Why not… drop it? Let it crumble away. You don’t need to be smart anymore. Smart’s boring. Smart’s hard. Wouldn’t it be so much nicer to be… light? Empty? Free?”

Her knees wobbled, her sharp edges blurring as the fog thickened, her voice faltering. “I… I don’t… stop messing with me…”

But Seth pressed closer, his breath hot against her ear, his words a slow, sadistic drip of poison. “Messing? No, I’m fixing. Fixing you. All those years of being the big-brain boss-lady—ugh, so tiring. Let’s burn it down, huh? Imagine—no more numbers, no more plans, just… fluff. Soft, silly, sparkly fluff. You can feel it creeping in, can’t you? Tickling away all that nasty, grown-up junk?”

Oriole’s hands twitched, her mind buckling as coherent thoughts slipped through her fingers like sand. “Fluff…” she mumbled, a dazed giggle bubbling up despite her resistance. “That’s… wait, no…”

Seth’s eyes gleamed, his voice a cruel, syrupy croon. “Yes, Oriole, yes. No more ‘wait.’ No more fighting. Just let it happen—let your brain melt into a big, gooey puddle of nothing. Picture it—all pink and bubbly, like cotton candy spinning round and round. No more heavy stuff. No more caring about dumb animals or boring charities. Just… giggles. Can’t you feel the giggles coming?”

Her shoulders slumped, her eyes dulling as the last threads of her intellect frayed. “Giggles…” she whispered, a high, airy laugh spilling out, fragile and foolish. “Hee… that’s, like… kinda fun…”

Seth’s grin was a blade, his tone dripping with savage delight. “Oh, it’s so fun. Say buh-bye to that smarty-pants Oriole—she’s gone, poof! Dust! You’re a new girl now—a silly, ditzy, empty-headed princess. No more pesky thoughts to weigh you down. Just bounce around in your fluffy little world. Tell me how it feels, huh? Tell me how yummy it is to be dumb.”

Oriole giggled again, louder, her voice pitching into a shrill, tweenish squeak as her mind dissolved into pastel vapor. “Oh my gosh, like, so yummy!” she chirped, twirling her hair with clumsy fingers. “I feel all, like, floaty and sparkly and stuff! Hee-hee!” She swayed, her once-fierce gaze now vacant, her lips curling into a mindless, lip-glossed grin.

Seth circled her like a vulture, savoring the wreckage. “Look at you,” he sneered, his voice thick with contempt. “All that fire, all that brains—gone. Reduced to a bubble-brained ditz. No more meddling, no more threats. You’re just a giggling little cheerleader now, aren’t you? Tell me you love it. Tell me you love being stupid.”

“Like, totally!” Oriole squealed, clapping her hands with manic glee. “I love it, Sethy! Being stupid’s, like, the bestest! No more icky serious stuff—just fun and sparkles and, like, whatever!” She bounced in place, her every word a hollow, sugary puff of air.

Seth’s laughter was cold, a jagged edge slicing through the alley. “Perfect. You’re a masterpiece of nothingness. No more sticking your nose in my business—just a brainless little doll to clap for Chloe’s big debut. You’re gonna adore watching me cash in, right?”

“Uh-huh!” Oriole nodded furiously, her grin wide and empty. “You’re, like, the smartest ever, Sethy! I was so dumb to, like, worry or whatever—I don’t even get why! Everything’s, like, super-duper now!”

Seth stepped back, his smirk a mask of icy triumph as he surveyed his handiwork. “That’s right, princess. Keep that empty head of yours full of glitter and leave the real work to me.” He turned toward the shelter door, tossing a final barb over his shoulder. “Come on, let’s go—Chloe’s waiting, and I’ve got a fortune to build.”

Oriole skipped after him, a trail of shrill giggles echoing in her wake as her once-brilliant mind fizzled into a void of shallow, tween-valley-girl fluff—pink, vapid, and utterly broken. Seth didn’t spare her a glance, his thoughts already on the next move. One thorn plucked, he mused. Time to rake in the gold.

Meanwhile, Chloe looked up from the clippings, her expression calm and untroubled. "You’re overreacting, London. Seth’s just helping us. He’s got a lot of experience, and he knows what he’s doing."

"Does he?" London shot back, her tone sharp. "Because it seems like all he’s doing is turning you into some kind of… celebrity, and turning Oriole into—"

The back door swung open, cutting her off. Seth stepped inside, his hands in his pockets and that infuriating smirk on his face. Behind him, Oriole bounced into the room, her usual fiery demeanor replaced by an almost childlike giddiness. Her eyes were wide and vacant, her smile unnaturally bright.

"Hey, guys!" Oriole chirped, her voice high-pitched and bubbly. "Sorry I was gone so long. Seth and I had the *best* talk. He’s, like, sooo smart. I don’t know why I was ever worried about anything. Everything’s, like, totally fine!"

London stared at her, her jaw dropping. "Oriole? What the hell happened to you?"

Oriole giggled, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. "What do you mean? I’m fine! Better than fine, actually. Seth’s, like, the best. He explained everything, and now I get it. We don’t need to stress about stuff. It’s all good!"

Chloe smiled, seemingly unfazed by the drastic change in her friend. "See, London? I told you Seth knows what he’s doing. He’s got everything under control."

London’s eyes darted between Chloe, Oriole, and Seth, her panic growing. "No. No, this isn’t right. Oriole, you’re… you’re not acting like yourself. What did he do to you?"

Oriole tilted her head, her expression blank. "Do to me? Nothing! Seth’s, like, super nice. He just helped me see things clearly. You should talk to him too, London. You’re, like, way too stressed out. It’s not cute."

London took a step back, her heart pounding. "Chloe, do you not see this? She’s… she’s not Oriole anymore. She’s like some kind of… airhead. This isn’t normal!"

Chloe shrugged, her gaze drifting back to the press clippings. "She seems fine to me. Maybe she’s just relaxed for once. You should try it, London. You’re always so tense."

London’s eyes widened in disbelief. "Chloe, this is serious! Seth’s messing with her head. Can’t you see that?"

Seth stepped forward, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "London, you’re being dramatic. Oriole’s just had a change of perspective. Sometimes people need a little… guidance to see the bigger picture. That’s all I did."

"Guidance?" London spat, her voice shaking. "You turned her into a ditzy shell of herself! What did you do to her?"

Oriole giggled again, her laughter high and unnatural. "London, you’re, like, so silly. Seth didn’t do anything bad. He’s, like, the best. You should really chill out. Maybe get a manicure or something. You’d feel way better."

London stared at her, her stomach churning. This wasn’t Oriole. The sharp, determined woman she’d known for years was gone, replaced by this giggling, shallow caricature. And Chloe… Chloe didn’t even seem to care.

"Chloe," London said, her voice desperate now. "Please. You have to see what’s happening. He’s… he’s doing something to her. To you. To all of us."

Chloe looked up again, her expression calm and untroubled. "London, you’re being paranoid. Seth’s here to help us. He’s not the enemy."

Seth stepped closer to London, his smirk widening. "She’s right, you know. You’re fighting a losing battle, London. Maybe it’s time you stopped worrying so much and just… went with the flow."

London took another step back, her instincts screaming at her to run. "Stay away from me," she said, her voice trembling. "I don’t know what you’re doing, but I’m not falling for it."

Seth’s smile didn’t waver. "Suit yourself. But you’ll come around eventually. Everyone does."

As London turned and fled the room, her mind racing, Chloe and Oriole watched her go, their expressions blank and untroubled. Seth stood between them, his hands in his pockets and his smirk firmly in place.

"Don’t worry about her," he said, his voice smooth and reassuring. "She’ll see the light soon enough."

Chloe nodded, her trust in Seth absolute. "I’m sure she will."

Oriole giggled again, her voice echoing through the room. "Yeah, London’s, like, so dramatic. She’ll figure it out. Everything’s, like, totally fine!"

But as London disappeared into the distance, her heart pounding and her mind racing, one thing was clear: nothing about this was fine. And if she didn’t figure out how to stop Seth, she’d be next.

Chapter Five: The Breaking

The shelter was a tomb, its usual chaos of barking dogs and hurried footsteps swallowed by a thick, oppressive silence that clung to the walls like damp rot. Faint light seeped through the grimy windows, casting jagged shadows across the concrete floor where London stood, arms crossed, her dark eyes burning holes into Seth. She’d spent hours watching him slink through the day, his every gesture a calculated lie, his every word a drop of acid eating away at what she’d built. Oriole’s mindless giggles haunted her ears, Chloe’s vacant preening twisted her gut, and now Seth—he was the venomous thread tying it all together. London was the last one standing, and she’d tear him apart before he touched another piece of her world.

He approached her with that lazy swagger, hands shoved in his pockets, his smirk a festering wound stretched across his face. Before he could open his mouth, London lunged forward, her voice a raw, feral snarl. “I don’t know what kind of sick, twisted shit you’re pulling,” she spat, “but it’s over. You’re done fucking with this shelter, and you’re done fucking with my friends. I’m ending you.”

Seth didn’t flinch. He cocked his head, his smirk splitting wider, his eyes glinting with a dark, unhinged glee. “London,” he drawled, his voice a slow drip of rancid honey, “you’re so cute when you bark. Ending me? Sweetheart, I’m just getting started. You think I give a damn about your precious little dog pound? I’m here to break shit and cash in—starting with your little posse.”

“Cashing in?” London’s voice trembled with fury, her nails digging into her palms. “You turned Oriole into a drooling moron, and Chloe’s too busy posing to see you’re a goddamn vulture. You’re not helping—you’re a parasite, and I’m ripping you out.”

Seth’s laugh was a guttural, mocking rasp, his eyes narrowing as he stepped closer, his shadow swallowing her whole. “Parasite? Nah, bitch, I’m the king of this dump. You’re the one clinging to some sad, noble fantasy—like you’re a hero or something. Hate to break it to you, but you’re just a pain in my ass.” His smirk twisted into a snarl, his voice dropping to a venomous hiss. “And I don’t keep bitches who bite. You’re too loud, too proud—guess I’ll have to carve that out of you. Gonna gut that spine of yours and leave you a whimpering little smear.”

London’s chest tightened, her instincts screaming as she shoved back against his words. “You’re a lunatic,” she snapped, her voice shaking but fierce. “You think you can scare me? This shelter’s my life—the animals, my friends—I’ve fought harder than you can imagine. You’re not touching me.”

Seth’s eyes flared with savage delight, his grin a grotesque slash as he loomed over her. “Scare you? Oh, no, bitch—I’m gonna erase you. You’re not worth scaring—you’re worth breaking. Piece by fucking piece.” He leaned in, his breath a hot, sour gust against her face, his voice sinking into a hypnotic, sadistic purr that clawed into her skull. “Feel it yet? That little tremble in your head? That’s me, bitch, clawing my way in. All that pride, all that fight—it’s trash. You’re trash. Time to burn it down—slow, so you choke on every ash.”

Her head jerked, a sickening fog curling through her mind, dulling her edges like a blade gone blunt. “Fuck off,” she growled, clutching at her fading resolve. “I’m not your puppet—I’m stronger than this.”

Seth’s laughter sliced through her, sharp and cruel, his eyes alight with a manic thrill. “Stronger? That’s hilarious, bitch. You’re a cracked toy begging to be smashed. Let’s make it fun—let’s rip that strength out and stomp on it.” His voice tightened, a relentless, oily thread weaving into her thoughts. “You feel that weight, huh? All that bullshit you call courage—it’s crushing you. Drop it. You don’t deserve it. You’re a nobody—a filthy, whining nothing. Wouldn’t it be better to just… collapse? Let me scrape out that loudmouth pride and leave you a sniveling little stain?”

London’s knees buckled, her breath hitching as the fog thickened, her defiance splintering into shards. “I… stop…” she mumbled, her voice cracking, her hands trembling as the haze devoured her fire.

Seth circled her like a jackal, his voice a slow, sadistic drip of poison. “Stop? Oh, bitch, we’re just starting. All that screaming, all that caring—it’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. Let it rot—let it fester and die. Imagine—no more standing tall, no more worth, just… garbage. A little, useless pile of garbage. Feel it sinking in? Eating you alive? You’re not even a person anymore—just a shadow I get to kick around.”

Her shoulders crumpled, her head bowing low as her mind dissolved into a swamp of self-loathing, her voice shrinking to a broken whisper. “Garbage…” she echoed, a strangled sob bubbling up, her tears hot and bitter. “I’m… nothing…”

Seth’s grin was a blade of ice, his tone a vicious, gleeful croon as he closed in. “That’s it, bitch. Say it louder—say you’re a worthless piece of shit. Let that big, stupid ego bleed out. You’re free now—free to grovel, free to hate yourself. Tell me how good it feels to be a nobody—tell me you love it.”

London’s tears spilled over, her spirit a smoldering ruin as his words flayed her raw. “I’m… a worthless piece of shit,” she whimpered, her voice a fragile thread snapping under shame. “It… it feels… good…” She choked on the lie, her body trembling as she sank inward, a hollow shell.

Seth’s laughter was a cold, jagged whip, his satisfaction a living thing as he towered over her. “Oh, look at you—crying like a kicked dog. No more big-shot London—just a sniveling, gutless bitch. You don’t deserve to breathe my air, do you? You’re a fucking joke—say it. Say it ‘til you believe it.”

She nodded weakly, her head hanging, her fringe a tangled curtain hiding her swollen, red-rimmed eyes. “I’m… a fucking joke,” she whispered, her voice barely a rasp, drowned in humiliation. “I don’t… deserve anything…” Her hands fumbled for the broom in the corner, clutching it like a lifeline as she began sweeping, her movements slow and robotic, her worth shredded to ribbons.

Seth stepped back, his smirk a festering triumph as he savored the wreckage. “Perfect. No more barking, no more bitching—just a whimpering little rag I can step on. You’re gonna love licking my boots while I run this shitshow, right? Nod, bitch—show me how broken you are.”

“Yes, Seth,” she murmured, her voice a monotone of defeat as she nodded, her broom scraping the floor in aimless, pitiful strokes. “You’re… everything. I’m… nothing…” She shuffled forward, her head bowed so low her chin grazed her chest, her tears dripping silently onto the concrete.

Across the room, Chloe and Oriole lounged against the wall, their eyes glassy and untroubled, their voices drifting like smoke. “London’s sweeping again,” Chloe said, her tone flat and casual as she examined her nails. “She’s always so busy.”

Oriole giggled, twirling her hair with a vacant grin. “Yeah, like, totally! She’s, like, super quiet now—way better than all that yelling stuff. Sethy’s got everything chill.”

Seth’s smile widened, a slow, sinister bloom as he shoved his hands back in his pockets, his gaze raking over London’s hunched, trembling form. “Chill’s right,” he sneered, his voice thick with contempt. “Keep scrubbing, bitch—floor’s not gonna lick itself clean. You’re my little shadow now—all you’re good for is groveling.”

London hummed faintly, a tuneless whimper of submission, her movements mechanical as she swept, her spirit a blackened husk crumbling under his heel. Chloe and Oriole chattered on, oblivious to the ruin beside them, their laughter a hollow echo in the dead air. Seth turned away, his triumph a cold, unyielding weight pressing the shelter into his grip. He’d snapped the last thread—London was nothing, and the rest would follow. The game was his, and he’d play it ‘til the world burned.

Chapter Six: The Glamour

The sleek, sterile studio was a world away from the familiar chaos of *Paws and Purpose*. Bright lights glared down from every angle, their harsh beams bouncing off pristine white walls and polished floors. Chloe stood in the center of it all, her designer dress catching the light as it shimmered like liquid silver. A makeup artist dabbed at her face with a brush, while a stylist fussed with her hair, their movements quick and precise. Chloe’s reflection in the mirror looked flawless—ethereal, even—but there was a hollowness in her eyes, a faint disconnect that she couldn’t quite place.

Seth leaned against a nearby counter, his arms crossed and his smirk firmly in place as he watched the scene unfold. “You’re a natural,” he said, his voice smooth and approving. “The camera’s going to love you.”

Chloe smiled faintly, her mind drifting. “This is… for the charity, right?” she asked, her voice soft and uncertain. “The exposure will help the animals?”

“Of course,” Seth replied without missing a beat. “The more people see you, the more they’ll care about the cause. It’s all connected.”

She nodded, though the unease in her chest didn’t fully dissipate. Still, Seth’s words had a way of quieting her doubts, of wrapping around her thoughts until they felt less important. She glanced at her reflection again, her fingers brushing against the fabric of her dress. “I guess… I guess it’s worth it,” she murmured.

Seth’s smirk widened. “That’s the spirit. Now, let’s get you in front of the camera. The world’s waiting.”

---

Back at the shelter, the atmosphere was starkly different. The usual buzz of activity had been replaced by a heavy, oppressive silence, broken only by the rhythmic scrape of a broom against the concrete floor. London knelt in the corner, her hands raw and her shoulders hunched as she scrubbed at a stubborn stain. Her dark curls hung limp around her face, her eyes dull and unfocused. She moved mechanically, her mind a fog of self-loathing and shame.

Oriole perched on a nearby counter, her legs swinging idly as she watched London work. She twirled a strand of her hair around her finger, her expression one of vacant amusement. “You’re, like, so boring, London,” she said, her voice high and sing-song. “All you do is clean. Don’t you ever, like, have fun?”

London didn’t look up, her hands trembling as she scrubbed harder. “I… I have to clean,” she mumbled, her voice barely audible. “It’s… it’s my job.”

Oriole giggled, the sound sharp and mocking. “Your job? That’s, like, so lame. You’re such a little mouse, scurrying around with your broom. Don’t you wanna, like, live a little? Be cool, like me and Chloe?”

London’s breath hitched, her chest tightening as Oriole’s words cut deep. “I… I’m not cool,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I’m… I’m nothing.”

Oriole hopped down from the counter, her movements light and carefree as she sauntered over to London. She crouched down, her face inches from London’s, her grin wide and teasing. “Aww, poor little mouse,” she cooed, her tone dripping with false sympathy. “You’re, like, so pathetic. But don’t worry—I’ll take care of you. You can be my little pet. How’s that sound?”

London flinched, her eyes darting away as tears welled up. “I… I don’t know…”

Oriole reached out, her fingers brushing against London’s chin as she tilted her head up, forcing her to meet her gaze. “Say it,” she said, her voice firm but playful. “Say you’re my little pet. Go on—it’ll make you feel better.”

London’s lower lip trembled, her resolve crumbling under Oriole’s taunting gaze. “I… I’m your little pet,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Oriole’s grin widened, her eyes sparkling with cruel delight. “Good girl,” she purred, patting London’s cheek lightly. “Now, keep cleaning. You’re, like, so good at it.”

London nodded weakly, her hands shaking as she returned to scrubbing. Oriole straightened up, her laughter echoing through the empty shelter as she skipped away, her movements light and carefree. “Such a good little mouse,” she called over her shoulder, her voice sing-song. “Don’t forget to, like, have fun or whatever!”

London’s tears spilled over, her shoulders shaking as she scrubbed harder, her mind a haze of shame and self-loathing. She didn’t know how things had gotten this bad, how she’d become this… this shell of herself. But Seth’s words still echoed in her head, a relentless, suffocating mantra: *You’re nothing. You’re garbage. You deserve this.*

---

At the studio, Chloe stood in front of the camera, her pose flawless and her smile radiant. The photographer snapped away, his voice enthusiastic as he called out directions. “Gorgeous! Stunning! Work it, Chloe!”

She obeyed without question, her movements fluid and effortless. But as the flashes of light blinded her, her mind drifted again. She thought of the shelter, of the animals, of her friends. Were they okay? Were they… happy?

Seth’s voice cut through her thoughts, smooth and reassuring. “You’re doing amazing,” he said, his tone warm. “This is exactly what the charity needs. You’re making a difference, Chloe.”

She nodded, her smile returning. “Yeah… I’m making a difference,” she repeated, her voice soft. The unease in her chest faded, replaced by a faint sense of pride. She was doing this for the animals. For the charity. For her friends.

But as the camera continued to flash, capturing her every angle, the hollowness in her eyes remained. And back at the shelter, London scrubbed the floor, her spirit a smoldering ruin, while Oriole’s laughter echoed through the empty halls. Seth’s game was far from over, and the cracks in their world were only growing wider.

Chapter Seven: The Vanity

The shelter was quiet, save for the occasional *click-clack* of buttons being pressed on Oriole’s Nintendo Switch. She lounged on a rickety chair, her feet propped up on London’s back as she chewed gum loudly, her eyes glued to the screen. London knelt on the floor, scrubbing at a stubborn stain with a worn-out brush, her movements slow and mechanical. Her shoulders were hunched, her face pale and drawn, her spirit a shadow of what it once was. Oriole’s laughter rang out, sharp and carefree, as she kicked her feet lightly against London’s back.

“Ugh, this level is, like, so hard,” Oriole whined, blowing a bubble with her gum before popping it loudly. “London, stop moving. You’re, like, totally messing me up.”

London flinched, her hands trembling as she tried to hold still. “S-sorry,” she mumbled, her voice barely audible. “I… I’ll try…”

Oriole rolled her eyes, her tone dripping with mock exasperation. “You’re, like, such a drag. Can’t you just, like, sit still for five seconds? God, you’re so boring.”

Before London could respond, the front door burst open, and Chloe strode in, her designer heels clicking sharply against the concrete floor. She looked radiant, her hair perfectly styled, her makeup flawless, and her outfit straight off a runway. Her eyes scanned the room, barely registering London on the floor or Oriole with her feet propped up. “Seth!” she called, her voice urgent. “Where is he? I need him. Now.”

Oriole glanced up, her grin widening. “Chloeeeee!” she drawled, her voice sing-song. “You look, like, sooo fab. Where’ve you been?”

Chloe waved a hand dismissively, her attention already elsewhere. “Busy. Seth said we need more pictures done today. Something about… exposure, I think?” She paused, her brow furrowing slightly as if trying to remember. “Anyway, it’s important. Where is he?”

Oriole shrugged, blowing another bubble. “Dunno. Probably, like, lurking somewhere. You know how he is.”

Chloe huffed, tapping her foot impatiently. “Ugh, he’s always so hard to find when I need him.” She glanced down at London, who was still scrubbing the floor, and wrinkled her nose. “London, have you seen Seth?”

London looked up, her eyes dull and unfocused. “I… I don’t know,” she whispered. “I’ve been… cleaning…”

Chloe sighed, her tone tinged with exasperation. “Well, if you see him, tell him I’m looking for him. I need to get these pictures done ASAP. And after that, I *have* to go shopping. This dress is so last season.”

As if on cue, Seth appeared in the doorway, his hands in his pockets and his smirk firmly in place. “Looking for me, Chloe?” he drawled, his voice smooth and teasing.

Chloe’s face lit up, her impatience melting away. “Seth! There you are. We need to do more pictures. You said it was important, right? For the… the…” She trailed off, her brow furrowing again as she struggled to remember.

Seth raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “For the charity,” he prompted, his tone dripping with amusement.

“Right! The charity,” Chloe said, snapping her fingers as if it had just come to her. “Of course. The animals. This is all for the animals.”

Seth chuckled, a low, knowing sound that made Chloe blush faintly. “Exactly,” he said, stepping closer. “The animals. You’re doing such important work, Chloe. The world needs to see you.”

Chloe beamed, her earlier confusion forgotten. “I know, right? That’s what I’ve been saying. We need more pictures. And I need a new wardrobe. This dress is practically ancient.”

Seth’s smirk turned sly, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. “Of course. You can’t be expected to represent the charity in last season’s fashion. Let’s get those pictures done, and then we’ll hit the boutiques. Sound good?”

Chloe nodded eagerly, her excitement palpable. “Perfect. Let’s go.”

As they turned to leave, Seth glanced back at London, who was still scrubbing the floor, and Oriole, who was now absentmindedly kicking her feet against London’s back again. “Keep up the good work, ladies,” he said, his tone light but laced with mockery. “Wouldn’t want the shelter to fall apart without you.”

Oriole giggled, blowing another bubble. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Have fun, you two!”

Once Seth and Chloe were gone, Oriole leaned back in her chair, her attention returning to her game. “God, they’re, like, so cool,” she said, her voice dreamy. “I wish I could, like, do photoshoots and stuff. Instead, I’m stuck here with you, London. You’re, like, such a buzzkill.”

London didn’t respond, her hands trembling as she scrubbed harder, her mind a haze of shame and self-loathing. She didn’t know how things had gotten this bad, how she’d become this… this shell of herself. But Seth’s words still echoed in her head, a relentless, suffocating mantra: *You’re nothing. You’re garbage. You deserve this.*

---

At the studio, Chloe posed under the blinding ring lights, her body posed in ways the old her would never imagine. Her stance was flawless, her smile a smug, radiant slash as the photographer snapped away, his voice a hyped-up roar. “Yes, babe! Slay it! Own that lens, Chloe!”

She moved like liquid, every tilt and arch a reflex now, her mind a blank slate of vanity. The animals, the shelter, those girls she used to call friends—they were dust, irrelevant footnotes in her glowing saga. She was the star, the goddess, the only name that mattered. Nothing else deserved space in her head.

Seth’s voice slid through the air, smooth as venom and edged with a cold, predatory gleam. “You’re a fucking vision, Chloe,” he said, his tone dripping with calculated praise. “This is your empire—everyone’s eating it up. You’re not just a difference; you’re the whole damn game.” No warmth, just a hook to keep her spinning.

Chloe tossed her hair, her smirk widening as she parroted him, her voice thick with entitlement. “Yeah, I’m, like, the game. I deserve this—being this hot’s, like, basically a superpower.” She struck another pose, her eyes glinting with a hollow, self-worshipping thrill—validation was her oxygen, and she was drowning in it.

The camera flashed, etching her every oiled-up angle into digital eternity, but the emptiness behind her gaze stayed locked tight. Back in the corner, London hunched over the floor, her rag scraping the floor in timid, mechanical swipes. Her spirit was a charred husk, her voice a faint whimper as she muttered while Oriole’s shrill giggle bounced off the studio walls, a bubblegum echo cutting through the dead air. “Oh my gawd, London, you’re, like, so slow—hurry up, ‘kay?

Seth watched it all, his smirk a blade of ice, his game a machine grinding them deeper into his pit. The cracks in their world weren’t just widening—they were a canyon now, and he was the grinning architect, building his fortune on their bones.

Chapter Eight: The Descent

The weeks blurred together in a haze of flashing cameras, glossy magazine covers, and endless shopping sprees. Chloe’s face was everywhere—smiling seductively from the pages of high-end fashion magazines, pouting provocatively in ads for luxury brands, and even gracing the covers of a few top-shelf “adult” publications. She was a sensation, a rising star, and the world couldn’t get enough of her. But behind the glamour, the cracks were mow really starting to show.

The shelter’s funds were dwindling, the once-healthy bank account now a shadow of its former self. Bills piled up, supplies ran low, and the animals began to feel the strain. But no one seemed to notice—or care. London, once the sharp, no-nonsense backbone of *Paws and Purpose*, was a hollow shell of her former self. She spent her days scrubbing floors and organizing supplies, her mind a fog of self-loathing and shame. She couldn’t do numbers anymore, couldn’t even think straight. Seth’s words echoed in her head like a relentless mantra: *You’re nothing. You’re garbage. You deserve this.*

Oriole, meanwhile, was too busy living her new carefree life to care about the shelter’s finances. She spent her days lounging around, playing her Nintendo Switch, and teasing London with a cruel, airheaded glee. “You’re, like, so boring, London,” she’d say, kicking her feet against London’s back as she scrubbed the floor. “Why don’t you, like, do something fun for once?”

London would just nod weakly, her voice a broken whisper. “I… I have to clean…”

And Chloe? Chloe was too caught up in her new life to notice anything was wrong. The dopamine hits from the photoshoots, the adoration of the public, the endless compliments from Seth—it was intoxicating. She lived for the next photoshoot, the next magazine cover, the next shopping spree. The charity, the animals, her friends—it all felt like background noise, a distant memory she could barely recall.

---

One afternoon, Chloe burst into the shelter, her arms laden with shopping bags and her face glowing with excitement. “Seth!” she called, her voice ringing through the empty halls. “You won’t believe the deals I found! Look at this dress—isn’t it gorgeous?”

Seth appeared in the doorway, his smirk firmly in place. “Chloe, you’re a vision,” he said, his voice smooth and approving. “But then again, you always are.”

Chloe beamed, holding up the dress for him to see. “I know, right? It’s perfect for the next shoot. Oh, and I got these shoes too—aren’t they amazing?”

Seth nodded, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. “Absolutely stunning. You have such an eye for fashion, Chloe. It’s no wonder the world can’t get enough of you.”

Chloe preened, her smile widening. “I know, right? I’m thinking we should do another shoot soon. Maybe something… edgier this time. What do you think?”

Seth’s smirk turned sly. “I think that’s a brilliant idea. You’re a star, Chloe. The world needs to see every side of you.”

As they chatted, London shuffled into the room, her hands clutching a stack of unpaid bills. Her eyes were dull, her movements slow and mechanical. “Chloe…” she began, her voice trembling. “We… we need to talk about the money…”

Chloe glanced at her, her expression briefly flickering with confusion. “Money? What about it?”

London held out the bills, her hands shaking. “The… the shelter’s funds. They’re… they’re almost gone. We can’t… we can’t pay for food or supplies…”

Chloe frowned, her brow furrowing as if trying to process the words. “Oh. Well, that’s… that’s not good.” She paused, her gaze drifting back to the dress in her hands. “But I’m sure it’ll work out. Seth will figure something out, right?”

Seth stepped forward, his tone reassuring. “Of course. Don’t worry, London. I’ll handle it. You just focus on… whatever it is you do.”

London nodded weakly, her shoulders slumping as she shuffled away. Oriole, who had been lounging in the corner with her Nintendo Switch, giggled. “London’s, like, such a downer,” she said, blowing a bubble with her gum. “Why does she always have to, like, ruin the vibe?”

Chloe laughed, the sound light and carefree. “I know, right? She’s such a buzzkill.” She turned back to Seth, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “So, about that shoot—when can we do it?”

Seth’s smirk widened. “How about tomorrow? I’ll set everything up. You just focus on being your fabulous self.”

Chloe clapped her hands, her excitement palpable. “Perfect! I can’t wait.”

---

As the days passed, the shelter’s situation grew more dire. The animals went without proper food, the volunteers grew frustrated, and the bills piled higher. But Chloe was too busy to notice. She lived for the next photoshoot, the next magazine cover, the next hit of dopamine. Seth’s influence over her was absolute, his insidious hypnosis weaving its way deeper into her mind with each passing day.

London tried to speak up, to warn Chloe, but her voice was too weak, her spirit too broken. Oriole, meanwhile, was too caught up in her own shallow world to care. The shelter was crumbling, but no one seemed to notice—or care.

And Seth? Seth watched it all with a smirk, his eyes glinting with dark satisfaction. The game was his, and he was playing it to perfection. Chloe was his masterpiece, a hollow shell of her former self, addicted to the glamour and the adoration. The charity, the animals, her friends—it was all just collateral damage.

The descent was complete, and there was no going back.

---

Chapter Nine: The Collapse

The shelter was a corpse, its once-vibrant pulse of barking dogs and purring cats replaced by a hollow, suffocating silence that clung to the peeling walls like mold. Empty kennels gaped like open wounds, their bars rusted and bare. Cracked food bowls sat dry and dust-choked, while chewed-up toys lay scattered across the stained concrete, untouched relics of a life Seth had snuffed out. Animal control had swept through days ago, hauling off every last creature after a tip—an anonymous call Seth had placed with a smirk, his voice dripping with fake concern as he sealed their fate. Now he stood in the center of the desolation, hands shoved deep in his pockets, his smirk a festering slash across his face as he drank in the wreckage with a dark, unhinged satisfaction.

Chloe was gone, lost in the haze of a *Playboy* shoot, her soul tethered to the flash of cameras and the syrupy praise that fed her new existence. The charity, the animals, her friends—they were ghosts she’d long since exorcised, drowned in the shallow tide of her own vanity. Seth had sculpted her into a perfect, mindless doll, and she didn’t even know the shelter had been gutted—or care, if she did. Her latest text buzzed in his pocket: *“Shoot was amazeballs! They’re obsessed with me! Next one when??”* He’d grinned, typing back, *“Soon, princess. Animals are gone—problem?”* Her reply was instant, a bubble of indifference: *“What animals? Oh, those shelter losers? LMAO, forgot they existed. Whatevs!”* She was his now, a marionette dancing on golden strings, and he loved every vacant twitch.

London, though—London had been a thorn, a faint flicker of defiance that irritated him like a splinter under a nail. He’d crushed her, of course. She’d dared to whimper, to question, her trembling voice scraping against his perfect facade until he couldn’t stand it anymore. So he’d broken her—permanently, deliciously, in a way that still made his pulse hum with sick delight.

---

It had happened in the storage room, a cramped, shadowed hole stinking of mildew and despair. Seth had cornered her there, his bulk filling the doorway, his presence a suffocating weight that pinned her like a bug under glass. London had stood trembling, her eyes wide with fear but still clinging to some shred of fight as she faced him. “You… you can’t keep doing this,” she’d stammered, her voice a fragile thread. “The animals… the shelter… I won’t let you—”

Seth had cut her off, his voice a low, hypnotic growl that slithered into her skull like a parasite, thick with menace and dripping with venom. “Shut it, you whining little bitch,” he snarled, his smirk twisting into something feral, his eyes glinting with a cruel, predatory hunger. “You’ve been a festering wart on my ass for too long—always yapping, always sniveling. I’m done with it. Time to carve you into something better—something that knows its fucking place.”

London’s breath hitched, her hands clutching at the air as she tried to push back. “I… I don’t… what are you—”

“Quiet,” he snapped, his voice sinking deeper, a hypnotic blade slicing through her resistance. “You don’t get to talk. You don’t get to think. You’re not London anymore—that bitch is dead. From now on, you’re Maria—a dirty, groveling Mexican nobody who can’t even string a sentence together. You’re a pathetic little scrubber, kissing the ground I walk on, grateful for every crumb I toss your worthless ass. Got it?”

Her mind buckled, a thick fog rolling in, smothering her thoughts as his words locked around her like chains. “I… I…” she whispered, her voice fracturing, a clumsy accent twisting her tongue. “I am… Maria… I no… no complain…”

Seth’s laugh was a cold, jagged thing, his eyes alight with sadistic glee as he leaned closer, his breath hot and sour against her face. “Fuck, that’s perfect. Look at you—already crumbling. Say it again, Maria—tell me you’re a filthy, useless nothing who lives to lick my boots. Tell me you love it.”

Her shoulders slumped, her eyes glazing over as her identity melted into a puddle of shame. “I… I Maria,” she mumbled, her voice thick and broken, her accent a parody of itself. “I filthy… useless… I love… I love be nothing… for you…” Tears welled up, but she didn’t wipe them away—didn’t dare.

Seth’s grin widened, a grotesque mask of triumph as he towered over her. “Good, you sniveling little slag. You’re a stain—a nobody who doesn’t deserve to breathe my air. Now get on your knees and scrub something. That’s all you’re good for—cleaning my messes and keeping your trap shut.”

---

Now, Maria knelt on the filthy floor, her knees raw against the concrete as she scrubbed at a black smear with a frayed brush, her movements slow and mechanical, her mind a swamp of obedience and self-hatred. Her hands shook, her back hunched, her fringe falling over her face to hide the tear-streaked ruin of her eyes. She muttered under her breath, her voice a trembling, broken chant: “I work hard… I no complain… I am nothing… so grateful…” Each word was a dagger she turned on herself, her worth ground to dust beneath Seth’s heel.

Oriole perched on a counter nearby, her legs dangling as she popped her gum with a loud, obnoxious snap, her lips curled into a cruel, catty smirk. Seth had twisted her too—kept her ditzy fluff but sharpened her edges, turning her into a venomous little harpy who delighted in Maria’s misery. “Ugh, Maria,” she whined, her voice a nasal drawl, “you’re, like, so gross down there. Can’t you, like, hustle or whatever? You’re, like, the lamest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Maria flinched, her brush faltering as she scrubbed harder, her voice a pitiful whimper. “I… I sorry, Miss Oriole… I try… I work fast… I no mean to be… gross…”

Oriole rolled her eyes, blowing another bubble before popping it with a sneer. “Oh my God, you’re, like, such a loser. That accent? So fake and pathetic. Why don’t you, like, crawl back to whatever ditch you came from? Nobody even likes you here—you’re just, like, a total waste.”

Maria’s lip quivered, her tears splashing onto the floor as she bowed lower, her voice breaking. “I… I no go… I stay… I work hard… I so sorry… I no good…” Her hands moved faster, frantic and futile, as if she could scrub away her own existence.

Oriole giggled, her laughter a sharp, mocking blade. “Ew, crying? Seriously, Maria, you’re, like, beyond pathetic. Just keep scrubbing, you little freak—maybe Seth’ll, like, throw you a bone if you’re lucky. Doubt it, though—you’re, like, trash.”

---

Seth leaned against the doorway, his smirk a festering wound as he watched the scene with a dark, unquenchable satisfaction. The shelter was his—a hollowed-out shell, its heart ripped out and its bones picked clean. The animals were gone, the funds siphoned into his accounts, the volunteers scattered like ash in the wind. Chloe was his glittering trophy, oblivious to the carnage she’d left behind. Maria was his broken toy, a groveling husk he’d stripped of every shred of dignity. And Oriole—his perfect little attack dog, vapid and vicious, her cruelty a mirror to his own.

His phone buzzed again—another text from Chloe: *“They want me for a vid next! I’m, like, blowing up!!”* He typed back, *“Killing it, babe. Shelter’s dead—gonna make it an OnlyFans hub. You in?”* Her reply pinged instantly: *“OMG yasss, so hot! Those dogs were, like, so last year anyway!”*

Seth chuckled, a low, guttural sound as he pocketed his phone, his eyes glinting with a manic thrill. “Time to build something real,” he muttered, his voice thick with contempt as he glanced at Maria’s trembling form. “Keep scrubbing, you filthy bitch—floor’s gotta shine for the cameras. You’re my little maid now—nothing else.”

Maria nodded meekly, her voice a faint, shattered whisper. “Yes, Seth… I scrub… I no complain… I nothing…” Her brush scraped the floor, her tears mixing with the grime as she faded further into her own abyss.

Oriole skipped closer to Maria, her chunky platform sneakers squeaking on the concrete, her hair bouncing in a high pony tied with a sparkly pink scrunchie. She stopped short, popping her watermelon gum with a loud smack, and put her hands on her hips, giving Maria this big, goofy grin. “Oh my gosh, Maria, seriously?” she squeaked, her voice all high and extra. “Are you, like, still scrubbing that nasty floor? You’re, like, obsessed or whatever, right?”

Maria jumped a little, her brush freezing as she peeked up all nervous-like. “I… I sorry, Miss Oriole,” she mumbled, her accent all thick and awkward. “I try hard… I no want be slow…”

Oriole let out this big, bubbly giggle, stepping closer with a little twirl that made her skirt flare out. “Slow? Oh, totes, you’re, like, a baby turtle or something! But it’s, like, kinda presh, you know? You’re all, like, my little scrubby buddy down there!” She flicked her pony with her fingers, grinning like she’d just won a TikTok challenge. “Bet you’d, like, clean my sneakers if I said ‘pretty please,’ huh?”

Maria’s hands shook, her brush starting up again as she nodded super fast. “Yes, Miss Oriole… I clean sneakers… I work good for you…” Her voice was all tiny and wobbly, like she was scared to mess up even a little.

Oriole squealed, clapping her hands so loud it echoed. “OMG, you’re, like, so perf! My little helper girl, always doing whatever I say—it’s, like, the cutest!” She plopped down on the edge of a table, kicking her legs and giggling again as she waved a hand at her sparkly kicks. “Okay, like, polish these, ‘kay? They’re all, like, bleh from me being so fabby all day. You can do that, right, cutie?”

Maria practically tripped over herself, scooting forward on her knees and grabbing a rag from her pocket like it was a lifeline. “Yes, yes, Miss Oriole… I polish… I make pretty…” She started rubbing at the sneakers, all frantic and sweaty, muttering, “I good… I do good…”

Oriole leaned back on her hands, swinging her feet like she was at a sleepover, her grin all big and silly. “Oh my gosh, you’re, like, the bestest little cleaner ever! Look at you, all, like, busy-bee vibes! Bet you’d, like, follow me around with a dustpan if I said so, huh? My little follower buddy, just waiting for me to say ‘jump!’” She popped her gum again, the snap bouncing off the walls. “Maybe I should, like, get you a little tiara or something—make you my official sidekick!”

Maria’s rag slipped for a sec, her eyes blinking all confused before she nodded like a bobblehead. “Tiara?” she whispered, then went right back to it. “If Miss Oriole say… I wear… I happy…” She scrubbed harder, her hands all shaky but trying so hard, like that was her whole world now.

Oriole giggled again, her laugh all high and sparkly like a ringtone. “OMG, María, you’re, like, too funny! So easy-peasy to boss around. Okay, finish those kicks, and maybe I’ll, like, let you hold my Starbucks later. You’d be, like, so into that, right, my little bestie?”

“Yes, Miss Oriole,” Maria said all soft and breathy, her rag smearing glitter around as she nodded. “I love… I hold… I good for you…” She kept going, her head down, totally lost in being Oriole’s little project.

Oriole kicked her legs some more, pulling out her phone and flipping her hair back. “Ugh, you’re, like, so sweet, Maria—total goals! Keep it up, ‘kay? I gotta, like, check my Snap streaks—these nails are, like, way more fun than this boring old place.” She didn’t even look at Maria anymore, just scrolled away, humming some dumb TikTok song while her “toy” kept scrubbing, all quiet and stuck in her little obedient bubble.

Seth stepped outside into the sunlight, his smirk a permanent brand as he surveyed the empty shell of his empire. The shelter was dead—long live the studio. He’d crushed every spark, twisted every soul, and he’d do it again, just for the thrill of watching them break.

---

Chapter Ten: The OnlyFans Studio

The skeleton of *Paws and Purpose* had been gutted and reborn as something sleek and soulless. The kennels were ripped out, replaced by glossy black backdrops, blinding ring lights, and a tangle of camera gear that screamed money. Racks of skimpy outfits—sequins, lace, and neon—lined one wall, while a vanity table drowned in lip gloss, fake lashes, and glitter spray sprawled across another. The air smelled like cheap perfume and hairspray, a far cry from the muddy paws and kibble dust of its past life. Seth had seen the dollar signs flashing and pounced—no mangy mutts were gonna hold him back from cashing in.

Chloe posed in the center of it all, draped in a barely-there silver dress that shimmered like a disco ball. She arched her back, pouting for the camera, her smile all teeth and ego as the photographer—a slick pro Seth had hired—snapped away. “Yes, babe! Slay it! Give me more!” he barked, his energy feeding her like a drug. Seth lounged against the wall, arms crossed, his smirk a permanent scar as he watched his golden goose lay another egg. He’d crowned himself her “manager,” skimming a fat chunk of her OnlyFans cash—way more than fair, padded with bullshit fees like “lighting costs” and “vibe curation.” Chloe, high on likes and subscriber pings, didn’t even blink at the numbers. She was his perfect little ATM, and he was milking her dry.

“Kill it, Chloe,” Seth drawled, his voice smooth as oil. “You’re a goddess. The internet’s drooling over you.”

Chloe giggled, flipping her hair with a smug little toss. “Duh, I know, right? My last post got, like, a zillion comments. I’m basically a legend now!”

“Legend’s right,” Seth said, his smirk twitching wider. “You’re the queen of this game—everyone else is just playing catch-up.”

As the camera kept clicking, Oriole bounced in, her platform sneakers squeaking, a half-empty Frappuccino in one hand and her phone blasting some TikTok trap remix in the other. She flopped onto a velvet couch, spilling whipped cream on her skirt, and gawked at Chloe with big, starry eyes. “Oh my gosh, Chloe, you’re, like, so extra right now!” she squealed, her voice pure tween sugar-rush. “You’re, like, famous-famous! Can I, like, jump in a pic with you? We’d be, like, the hottest duo ever—total slayage!”

Chloe shot her a side-eye, her lips pursing for a sec before she shrugged. “Uh, maybe,” she said, all breezy and bored. “But, like, I’m kinda the main vibe here, you know? Solo stan life.”

Oriole puffed out her cheeks, popping her gum with a loud *smack*. “Ugh, come onnn! It’d be, like, so fun! We could, like, twin it up and break the internet or whatever!”

Chloe waved her off, already turning back to the camera. “Yeah, we’ll see. I’m, like, too busy being iconic to share the spotlight right now.”

Oriole giggled, kicking her feet. “Okay, fine, be all queen-y! But, like, don’t forget me when you’re, like, ruling the world, ‘kay?”

Seth chuckled, his eyes glinting with dark amusement. “Chill, Oriole—there’s enough clout to go around. But Chloe’s the cash cow right now, so let’s keep her front and center.”

---

Meanwhile, Maria shuffled in behind Oriole, her arms loaded with a teetering pile of junk—Oriole’s purse, a glittery water bottle, a tangle of charging cords, and a crumpled Chipotle bag. Her shoulders sagged, her eyes dull and sunken, her once-sharp mind drowned in a swamp of broken thoughts and fawning desperation. Seth had smashed her into this “Maria” role, and now she trailed Oriole like a whipped dog, her every move a frantic scramble to please. She clutched a rag in one hand, dabbing at a nonexistent spill on the floor as she muttered, “I… I good, sí? I help Miss Oriole… no trouble…”

Oriole spun around, spotting Maria and letting out a big, dramatic groan. “Oh my gosh, Maria, like, finally! Where’ve you been, huh?” she whined, her voice all nasal and extra. “I’ve been, like, waiting forever for my stuff! You’re, like, my PA now, so you gotta, like, keep up, ‘kay?”

Maria flinched, nearly dropping the water bottle as she nodded like her head was on a spring. “I… I sorry, Miss Oriole,” she stammered, her accent thick and clumsy. “I try… I carry good… I no slow…”

Oriole rolled her eyes so hard they almost disappeared, popping her gum again. “Ugh, you’re, like, always sorry! It’s, like, so whatever. Just, like, put my stuff down and fix my pony, ‘kay? It’s all, like, flat and bleh now.” She flicked her hair, pouting like a brat who’d lost her Starbucks order.

Maria scurried over, dumping the pile on the couch and fumbling with Oriole’s ponytail, her hands shaking as she smoothed it out. “Yes, Miss Oriole… I fix… I make pretty…” she mumbled, her voice a pitiful whisper. “I good PA… I help…”

Oriole giggled, tilting her head back to let Maria work. “Oh my gosh, you’re, like, so funny when you’re all, like, try-hard! You’re, like, my little sidekick now, right? Always running around doing my stuff—it’s, like, totes adorbs!” She sipped her Frappuccino, smirking as Maria’s fingers fumbled with the scrunchie. “Hurry up, though—I’m, like, way too fab to wait!”

“Yes, yes, Miss Oriole,” Maria breathed, her hands moving faster, her eyes wide with panic. “I hurry… I good for you… I no mess up…” She finished the ponytail, stepping back with a nervous little bow, her rag clutched tight like a security blanket.

Seth watched from his perch, his smirk a cold, satisfied slash. Maria was a masterpiece of ruin—London’s fire snuffed out, replaced by this groveling, accent-mangled shell who lived to kiss Oriole’s glitter-dusted ass. She was his proof of power, a walking trophy of his control, and he loved every pathetic twitch.

---

The shoot wrapped, and Chloe flounced over to the couch, collapsing next to Oriole with a dramatic sigh. “OMG, that was, like, everything,” she gushed, her face glowing. “My subs are gonna freak when they see these pics. I’m, like, unstoppable.”

Oriole squealed, bouncing in her seat. “You’re, like, so lucky! I’d die to be that extra. Can I, like, get a shoutout or something?”

Chloe shrugged, picking at her nails. “It’s not luck—it’s, like, me being a total vibe. But maybe I’ll tag you sometime. If I feel like it.”

Oriole grinned, popping her gum. “Yay! Don’t forget your bestie when you’re, like, a mega-star, ‘kay?”

Seth stepped forward, his smirk sharp as a blade. “You’re both killing it in your own way,” he said, his voice slick and smug. “But Chloe’s the money train right now—so let’s keep her rolling. Oriole, you just keep being… you.”

As they chattered, Maria hovered nearby, picking up Oriole’s spilled chips one by one, her rag darting over the couch to wipe away crumbs. “I clean… I good, sí?” she whispered, her voice trembling with desperation. “I help Miss Oriole… always…”

Oriole glanced at her, giggling. “Oh my gosh, Maria, you’re, like, so extra with that rag! Chill, ‘kay? Just, like, grab my phone charger—it’s, like, dead, and I need it for my Snaps.”

Maria nodded frantically, scurrying to obey, her spirit a blackened husk under Seth’s thumb. The shelter’s past—animals, purpose, friendship—was ash, replaced by this glitzy, hollow grind. Seth’s descent was done; he’d drag them all to hell, smirking all the way.

---

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gasps-inspanish · 2 months ago

Note

I just had a thought that another nickname that Captain Crybaby could have given to Kyle was Mistofolees (like the character from the Cats Musical) because in the Musical Mistofolees is the one who brings the cats' leader back and Kyle was the one who brings the corps back

Granted, that's assuming your version of Hal would even know enough about theater to make that comparison.

Hehehe this made me giggle. I love this thank you for sharing!

My Hal might not know the reference on his own, but he likes to learn about his neices and nephews interests so he can talk to them about it, especially when they were younger so maybe he learned through one of them (we can blame Helen)!

I'm gonna add this to my Kyle nicnames list tbh. For those of you that don't know, in my fic Fear and What Follows, I mention that each Earth Green Lantern has a nickname because if multiple of them are on the same mission they can't all go by Green Lantern and useing their names would reveal their identites and i do NOT like how DC handles secret identies (WHY ARE THEY YELLING EAROTHERS NAMES IN THE STREETS????). It also based off of military nicknames, which you usually get for silly reasons.

Other names I was thinking of for Kyle's nickname were

Colors

because he's an artist! would've been given to him by Dinah while he is on the League instead of Hal and just something that everyone calls him before the id reveal, and is also a cool nod to him becoming a White Lantern later!

Pretty Boy

bc he's a pretty boy! not much to say here!

Rat

he's my rat guys. and alley and his ring and- didn't end up useing it because Sinestro calls him ally rat.

Gromit

my friends idea! Bc he fights with Wally a lot (before they become friends ofc) and Wally is Wallace so Kyle gets to be Gromit. He's gonna be jokingly called this in my au but its not like an official nickname

Four

the fourth green lantern! Originally in my au they were gonna be differentiated by number but the nicknames are cooler and sillier

Spaceboy

he was gonna get this one from Donna and it would just kinda stick.

Trouble

This was the top contender because he is a trouble magnet! Went with Torchie in the end, but i got to use Trouble in a different Au so im happy bc I really like this one!

Guy was gonna be Souless (because he's a red head) before I went with One Hit and Hal was almost Highball (his airforce call sign) or Captian Weepy (the double C sounded better so I changed it), but everyone else I went with the first thoughts cz i did like them (Braincell for Jess, Vroom for Simon, Teeny Bopper/Teeny for Keli) but John it took me a long time to come up with Problem Child/pc. Still trying to think of Jo's (I rlly have to read far sector i'm a failure).

Thank you for reading and for your ask!

#kyle regretting trying to stay anon bc now he has a silly nickname #Hal: okay Mistofolees #Kyle: ?????????#Kyle after googling it: hey so-????#Hal is forever bitter bc HE THOUGHT HIS FRIEND WAS DIEING #he didnt even cry guys he was just stressed out #how was he supposed to know how barry's powers worked #john and guys fave story tbh #Simon: why does Jess get a positive one?#Hal: Jess doesnt steal cars Simon #simon glaring at Hal bc we all know hal is worse #ik Jo isnt an earth lantern and she works in far sector #BUT SHES PART OF THE LANTERN FAMILY #Keli doesn't need one bc she doesnt use the name Green Lantern but im not leaving her out #green lantern #hal jordan #kyle rayner #dc comics #dc universe #gdcu #wip: fear and what follows #gis answers #gis yaps #john stewart #guy gardner #for my 3 green lantern fans #jessica cruz #simon baz #keli quintela #Highkey might make a seperate post just elaborating on each nickname but idk

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luke-shywalker · 4 months ago

Text

there are also horrors (and yet there is still hope)

(a sequel to “there are little moments”)

She wondered how she would find him when she came home. She had a sort of premonition he would be lying face-down on the couch.

Well—it would not be the worst thing one could come home to find.

She put in the keycode at the door (their wedding anniversary, but with the numbers reversed), and peeked her head inside.

Dinner was on the stove—those protein rations he hated so much, sizzling in the still-hot pan. There was also a bowl of rehydrated greens, and a few rolls of that insta-bread that came as a powder but would self-bake when mixed with water.

Perhaps he was alright, then. He had made dinner. That was a good sign.

She put down her bag, and went to the kitchen to investigate. Sometimes he didn’t mix quite enough, and the little loaves had chunks of dry powder on the inside. She tore one of the loaves open with her fingers—it was still warm. It was as dense as a scrubbing sponge…but that was just how insta-bread was.

No powdery chunks—it seemed alright, too.

Perhaps things would be okay tonight.

“I tried to mix it more this time,” she heard him say, causing her to jolt a little. He emerged from the bedroom, rubbing a towel through his hair. “Since you’re always givin’ me such a hard time about it.”

She stared at him a moment, trying to decipher the mood behind the statement, but then he grinned that lopsided grin, and she relaxed. Yes—things would be okay.

“Hey,” he said, and hung the towel on the back of the couch, and kissed her on the top of the head.

“Hello,” she said, and gave him a hug. “How was your day?”

She was itching to move the damp towel. Over the sofa cushion was an extremely silly place to put a wet towel. She would move it after he answered her question, she decided.

“I did a lot today,” he said. “I cleaned the bathroom. And I met up with my mom. And I finished that piece I was writing and sent it off to Coruscant.”

He was an on-the-ground military correspondent now. He used to be a Resistance pilot—but, that was before he’d lost his right eye vision.

Not completely. He could still see shapes, he said.

But? He’d lost enough. Enough for General Organa to dismiss him from his squadron with an honorable discharge—a decision that, to this day, she knew he was not happy with. She would have let Poe Dameron stay! was a string of words she had become absolutely sick of hearing.

Losing the full capacity of his right eye had been an entire ordeal—a saga that she was glad was over. It had been almost a year ago, now. He had made peace with it.

What he had not made peace with, however, was the possibility of something going wrong in his other eye—a more recent development that had become the main focus of their week. He had started seeing spots in his good eye, he said—he had woken her up in the middle of the night to tell her this—and as much as she hoped it was merely a bout of hypochondria, she had rather a bad feeling about it.

She had not told him this. She wanted to hold onto as much hope as possible. He certainly did not seem to have any of his own.

I’m gonna be blind oh God I won’t have either one of ‘em I won’t be able to do anything I won’t even be able to write anymore I’m gonna be so useless my life is over was another string of words she had become sick of hearing.

“Good job, dear,” she said, and took the opportunity to move the wet towel into the refresher room, to hang it where it ought to be hung. He followed behind her, like a loth-cat.

“I’m actually doing kind of better today,” he said.

Her heart fluttered with hope.

“You are?” she asked, turning to face him.

“Yeah,” he said, tucking his damp hair behind his ear. “The medcenter called. I was able to get my referral appointment with the specialist bumped up—they had a cancellation. So, I won’t have to wait a full week anymore. Just a few days.”

“That’s good,” she said. She rather wished the improvement in his outlook had been the result of inner resilience, not external circumstance. But— she would take what she could get. The past several days had been…difficult.

All I ever do is kriff everything up and ruin everything for everyone Mom doesn’t even want me flying because I’m such a disappointment to her you shouldn’t even be with me you shouldn’t have married me I wish I was dead everyone would all be better off if I were gone—

“Let’s eat!” he exclaimed suddenly, bouncing up and down a little. “I’m hungwy.”

“Did you just say you’re hungwy?” she giggled.

“You heard me. I’m not even gonna complain about the protein slabs—that’s how hungry I am. I haven’t really been eating this week. Too stressed. But—I’m kinda vibing today, so I’m gonna eat super well tonight. Or—as well as I can, with our Resistance-issued fare.”

“Good,” she said. “You ought to. Perhaps you can catch up on your sleep as well.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, and then he developed a mischievous sort of look in his eye. “Maybe there’s somethin’ else we could catch up on, too.”

She could not keep a very wide smile from spreading across her face. She had not dared to mention such things, ever since he had started worrying about his eyes again. When he was under stress, she knew there was almost no possibility of such endeavors—it was difficult enough to get him in the mood even when everything was going well—but, she could not deny she had begun to miss him.

“That would be fun,” she said, hearing the blush in her own voice.

Tonight was going to be even better than alright.

She missed him in that way. But, she had also missed him as a friend. Ever since they had gotten married, most of their nights had been spent like that summer on Naboo many years ago—talking and laughing and being silly together and discussing important things and not-so-important ones, too. The galaxy had changed so quickly after the rise of the First Order—but, when they were together, it was like they had their own little slice of the universe where, no matter what happened, everything would always be okay.

The past few nights, however, had been very different. And in a way, it was almost like losing her husband. Temporarily.

She knew better, of course, than to imagine he only existed for her own enrichment. He was a person, too, after all—with his own experiences and feelings (many feelings, one might add). And she knew that to tie oneself to another meant to do so through all seasons of life, not merely the sunniest of them.

Still, it did not make things easier.

But, tonight was better, and the pain of the past few evenings made things all the more sweeter. She considered herself a person of gratitude, but she marveled at how much she could have taken this for granted—his smile, his laugh, the way his eyes looked when she knew he was really looking at her, and not just envisioning some vague and terrible fate in the distance.

Thank you, she said to the Force.

“Dude, I almost burned myself making dinner,” he was saying as he reheated the greens in the pan with the protein patties.

“Goodness! On the stove?”

“No—with the frickin’ insta-bread!”

She stifled a laugh. “I—I don’t understand, love. It bakes itself.”

“Exactly! I was stirring it with my finger, and trying to get rid of every single clump to please my darling wife—”

“With your finger? You use your finger to stir?”

“Oh, shut up, you’re Rylothian, I’ve been to your planet. You guys eat everything with your fingers.”

“Eat, yes. Stir? No.”

“So, anyway—it started heating up while I was still mixing it. That stuff gets hot fast. Did not expect that. I pulled my finger out, but it’s kinda red now. Stings.”

“May I see?”

He held out his hand to her, and she kissed the victimized finger.

“Better?”

“Heh,” he smiled. “Yeah.”

“You know, I’ve always wondered,” she said thoughtfully. “How does the bread powder heat up, all on its own?”

“Well—it’s like some kind of thermogenic chemical reaction, I think,” he explained. “Once it hits water. Somethin’ in the ingredients.” He picked up the packet that was still on the counter and squinted at it. “Enriched flour…salt…sodium bi…carbonate…”

He stopped.

Squinted harder.

Frowned.

“…nitrogen—wait, no. Niacin…”

Oh no, she thought.

He can’t read it.

“I can’t read it,” he muttered, and shook his head. “I can’t read it… I can’t read it.”

Oh no, she thought again. And began to feel like the world was slipping away from them.

“I can’t read it,” he said again, and she saw his fingers were starting to shake. “No. No. Why can’t I kriffing read it?”

“Darling,” she murmured, and tried to take the packet away from him, but he wrested himself away from her.

“No! I’m gonna fuckin’ read this or else.”

A sweat came over her. She winced.

“Love, it’s very small text,” she tried to coax. “It’s alright—”

“No, it’s not!” he shouted. “I used to be able to read stuff this small. Even after the thing with my first eye. But if I can’t read this anymore—my second eye—oh, fuck—here, you can read it, can’t you?” And he thrust it at her.

She looked at it.

She could read it.

She did not want to tell him so.

“Please. Try to calm down,” she pleaded. “You have your appointment. You will get it looked at. I know you wish it were sooner, and so do I—but there is only so much within your control. Please, love.”

She took the packet and threw it in the bin before he could try to look at it again. “We should eat,” she told him quietly. “After all, you were just telling me how hungry you were.”

“I’m not hungry anymore,” he grumbled.

“You should try to eat anyway,” she told him gently.

“I never want to eat again,” he said, his voice dark—almost hoarse. “You eat.”

Well.

What was she supposed to do? Argue with him over and over about whether he ought to eat, as if he were a child?

She was hungry. There was no reason why she should not eat.

Goodness. So much for romance. Tonight was going to be just like every other night, then.

She took her plate and wordlessly sat at the table. Thank you—for the past half-hour, at least, she said to the Force. And began to eat.

Two minutes passed in silence.

He stared at her from where he stood at the counter. She did not look, but she could feel his eyes.

“You’re so okay just eating dinner without me like that,” he muttered. “Figures. Of course you don’t want me around. All I do is ruin your life. I’m a burden to everyone.”

She breathed a very long exhale out of her nose.

Ah. This again. Games that he set up himself, just to see if she’d play. Such statements, she felt, hardly dignified a response.

“You told me to eat, love,” she said simply. “I’m eating.”

“I’m gonna be blind,” he said. “I’m gonna be fucking blind. It’s like you don’t even care.”

“I don’t like when you talk like that,” she said, feeling like a shell. “I don’t like when you use those words.”

“Well, I don’t like that my entire life is falling apart and everything is completely going to shit!” he said, and the latter part of the sentence became a scream, and he banged his fist down against the counter and yelled again, and collapsed forward and slammed his elbows nearly into the plate of food he refused to eat, and buried his face in his hands. “Everything’s wrong. Everything’s wrong. Oh my God, everything’s wrong…”

Tears slipped down her cheeks. Her breath felt shallow. She knew he would never hit her, but the sound of his fist against metal echoed through the halls of her mind and brought back dark memories from her childhood.

She continued to eat. What else could she do? Just to feel like something, anything, was normal?

“Everything’s wrong. Everything’s wrong. Everything’s wrong,” he moaned into his hands, and began to whimper.

She wondered how many more nights it would be until they made love again, and whether that was selfish of her to think about.

“You’re just going to leave me like this?” he asked, sounding like a child. “Just gonna abandon me? Why won’t you talk to me? Are you just never going to talk to me ever again?”

She did not look at him.

“Why should I say anything to you?” she asked, and she was stunned by the ice she heard in her tone. “We have done this about five thousand times. I know you don’t listen. It’s not as if I can change your mind with my words.”

“I knew it,” he whispered. “You hate me. Oh my God, you hate me.”

She glanced at the ring on her finger. Surely he could not truly believe that. Surely he was merely trying to manipulate her into feeling pity for him. This was all so, so stupid.

“Everything’s terrible. Everyone hates me. I’m not going to be able to write anymore. I’m going to lose everything. I had to stop flying. I’m going to have to stop writing. I’m going to lose everything I love. And I’m going to lose you, too, because you hate me and I ruin your life and you never should have married me. Your mom was right. Your sisters were right. You shouldn’t be with me.”

She elected to ignore that last part.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, monotone. “Of course you could still write. Do you really think there aren’t blind authors?”

This was not a particularly kind or helpful thing to say, and she knew it. She, a Jedi, who had built a reputation nearly her entire life for being kind and helpful.

But, then again: no one else could wear down her patience quite like he could.

“So you think so, too,” he said. “You also know there’s no hope for me. You know I’m not gonna be able to see anymore.”

“You would still be able to see,” she said nastily. You said so yourself. You can still see with your right eye. You just wouldn’t be able to read.”

“I’m a fuckup. I shouldn’t exist. Everything would be better off without me. I should die. I should’ve just let myself get blown to smithereens, back when I was still a pilot—”

And then she felt enraged. Because how dare he say such things to her? How dare he suggest that he leave her here, all alone?

“You’re not a mistake,” she said, but there was no feeling in her words.

“Why not?” he asked. “Tell me why I’m not.”

“You’re just not. No one is a mistake. You know how much I believe that.”

“Well—I am. Maybe I’m the only one who is. I hope I die. I hope I fucking die. I hope I die in my sleep.”

She stared at the fork in her hand—she used forks now, despite her Rylothian roots. She watched her hand shake violently through the haze of tears.

How odd. She had never seen her hand shake like that before.

“Are you saying these things because you hope I tell you not to die, or because you are trying to hurt me?” she asked coldly, her throat so tight she felt like she had to force the words out. “Because, if the first, it is certainly not my responsibility to give you your will to live. And, if the second—you ought to be ashamed. I refuse to be spoken to so cruelly. Very well, then: die, if you are so strongly inclined. But I intend to live, with or without you.”

She should not have said that.

She knew she should not have said that.

“...Why are you being so mean to me?” he asked.

And this time she looked at him, and she expected to see anger and accusation in his face—but instead she just saw a boy, pale and trembling, gripping the countertop with his hands as if he might fall down, and staring back at her with huge, dark eyes—one that could no longer see well enough to read, and one that potentially faced a similar fate.

…Terrified.

“I’m scared,” he said quietly, sounding on the verge of tears. “I don’t want to never be able to see your face again. Yeah, whatever—I’d still be able to see. But I wouldn’t be able to see you the way you’re supposed to be seen. I could still write, sure—but I’d never be able to read back my prose with my own eyes again—see the words come into being as I pen them. If we have kids—I’d never be able to read to them at bedtime; I’d never even know what their faces look like undistorted—listen, sister, gimme a break—don’t you see how much I’ve got to lose here?”

She blinked away another set of tears—of sadness, now, rather than anger or fear.

She put down her fork.

“...I’m sorry,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry I’m having such a hard time. I’m sorry I keep making your life difficult. I’m sorry I’m not fun to be around.”

She stood up, and approached him, and took both his hands, and looked down at them. He looked down, too.

She rubbed her thumb against his wedding band. She looked at his right index finger, red and raw because he had mixed the insta-bread extra-long just for her.

“...I’m sorry, too,” she said at last. “I know it’s hard. But…you know it doesn’t do you any good, torturing yourself like this.”

“It just feels like I’ve got to do something to fix it.”

“But there’s nothing to be done.”

“Yeah, well…if I just hate myself hard enough, it feels like I’m doing something.”

“But do you actually feel better?”

“I…I guess not.”

She looked up at him.

He looked at her back.

“...Can you help me?” he whispered.

“I can try,” she said. Her eyes felt salty and dry. “But…that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, love.” She reached up and stroked the backs of her fingers against his cheek. “I can’t just fix your mind for you. You have to try, too.”

“But…it’s so hard not to get sucked in,” he said. “I don’t just say all that crap for fun, you know. It—it feels real.”

…Oh, she thought. I suppose he wasn’t just trying to be cruel.

“...You…don’t hate me?” he asked nervously.

“No. Of course not.”

“You don’t think I should die?”

“Absolutely not. In fact, I would much prefer you didn’t.”

“You don’t think everything’s ruined?”

“Well…there are certainly hardships in our future. And unknowns. But…that was always going to be the case. We’re living through a war—I think there is going to be a certain baseline of troubles in our life. But…we’re going to go through all of it together. That’s what we promised we would do. Right, dear?”

“I guess so. Yeah. But…would you still love me even if I couldn’t see?”

“What a silly question!” she laughed, and then cleared her throat, and said, “I mean: yes. Yes, of course.”

“I’d need a lot of help getting around and doing stuff.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’d have me.”

She smiled at him. And he smiled back, a little.

“…I’m sorry I wasn’t kind,” she told him quietly. “It’s just…difficult for me when you behave that way. It’s scary.”

“Well—I’m scared.”

“I know, dear.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know, dear.”

“I love you.”

“I know, dear.”

“Do you love me?”

“Yes—of course I love you.”

“Okay. Okay.”

He looked up at the ceiling and nodded, like he was trying to commit it to memory.

And then his stomach rumbled. And he laughed, embarrassed.

“You should eat,” she told him gently. “Do you think you could?”

“Yeah,” he said. He looked over at the little dining table. “I, uh…know you ate a lot of your food already. But…will you…still…sit with me?”

“Of course,” she said. “Always.”

“Thanks,” he said, and pulled her in, and held her close. “I guess…I guess things can’t be that bad. I mean…I’ve got you.”

That was a sweet thing for him to say. But…it was hard for her to feel like everything was okay, now. After all, things had seemed okay only an hour earlier. Things could change tomorrow.

Things could change tonight. Before they went to bed.

Tears began to prick again behind her eyes—he did not seem to notice. He patted her on the shoulder and brushed past her and began to heat up his plate again.

Well. He must be starving. She could forgive that.

She rubbed at her eyes and sighed a little. She felt exhausted—as she had felt for the past few days. She felt like she could not smile.

And he had not even asked how her day had been.

“Mini-Ren,” he said, causing her to look up. He had picked up the little crochet bantha that lived on the dining table, and was now bouncing Mini-Ren from side to side. “He’s dancing.” And he grinned that lopsided grin, the one that showed his slightly-crooked canines, which were crooked because he had continually forgotten to wear his retainer at night.

He was too darling, sometimes. Her heart flooded with affection for him.

But…what was the point, she wondered? He was just going to collapse again. In, what—a matter of hours? Minutes? She might as well conserve her energy and stay depressed, so she would already be in character when the next wave hit.

No, she told herself. That would make you no better than he is.

There were going to be more dark moments. Long ones. She knew that.

Perhaps she would have to wait a little longer for him to want to make love to her—she knew that, too.

But…she would be remiss not to enjoy the little moments, just because they were intermixed with sequences that were truly horrible. If anything…she ought to hold onto the good moments a little tighter.

And…he wouldn’t always be this way.

Well—he would probably always have this tendency in his nature—though she held out hope he would improve in his ability to combat it—but, he wouldn’t always suffer so much. There would come better times.

…Perhaps there would come worse times, too.

But…she could not pick and choose which seasons in which to be his wife. If she was going to take some of them, she had to take them all.

Both good and bad.

“You okay?” he asked, sounding concerned, as he placed his re-warmed plate of food on the table.

“Yes, love,” she said. “Are you okay?”

“Mostly, yeah,” he said. “Are…we okay?”

And the way he looked at her, he kind of looked like a kid again, almost in the way he’d looked when he was standing at the counter.

She nodded, and came close, and tilted her head up to kiss him. He leaned down and met her lips.

“...Are we gonna be okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” she told him—quiet, but confident. “Yes, love. We are going to be okay.”

#my writing #not beating the allegations that i literally only write to project onto blorbos #fannie pentarra

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dagreninjagurl · 5 months ago

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Christmas Shopping

This is gonna be my first Venom fanfic cuz I’m bored and I’m trying new stuff out. And happy holidays to all.

This event takes place after Venom War, AND THIS COULD HAVE HAPPENED IF VENOM WAR HAD A HAPPY ENDING. It’s mainly Dylan Brock and Bren Waters going Christmas shopping until something came up.

———————————————————————————

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been trying to recover from the Venom War. It was so chaotic. I don’t even know where to began with it. But all I know is that we got Dad and Venom back. I never told them this, but I feel so glad for both of them to be home. We don’t have to be on the run anymore. Spider-Man made sure there would be no military units or science company on our asses again.

RING! RING!

I pick up my phone from my bed—near Sleeper who was peacefully napping on the bed. I stare at my phone as I realized Bren was the one who was calling me.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Hey, man. You wanna go Christmas shopping with us?” he spoke as Toxin. I heard the wind blowing through the phone. I only assume they were swinging through the city.

“Why? It’s only December 1st.” I said.

“Cuz we’re gonna be out of town next week. Might as well shop and hang out with you,”

“Can you pick me up? I don’t have a ride,”

“Well, I’m already at your door. So be ready,” Bren replied as I soon heard the door bell ring.

DING DONG!

“You’re going with Bren, I assume,” Sleeper calmly said as it stretched in its cat form.

“Yeah. You coming with?” I asked it. In response, Sleeper nodded.

I rush downstairs with Sleeper to see Dad and Venom watching a Christmas movie in the living room. Though, I only see Venom’s head bobbling next to Dad.

“I’m going Christmas shopping with Bren,” I said so that they won’t have to make a scene of worries. A moment later, Venom turned around to see me in my iconic blue sweatshirt.

“If you’re going out like that, at least wear a coat,” Venom scolded as he reached a tendril for my coat that was hooked onto a coat rack near the front door.

“Here,” he insisted.

“Thanks, Venom. Do you guys uh—want anything?” I asked them as I put on the gray coat.

“All we want is for you to have fun before we get a snowstorm. And chocolate of course,” Venom answered.

“Have fun, kiddo!” Dad exclaimed from the couch.

“Okay, see you guys later!” I said before exiting through the door with Sleeper on my shoulder.

As I exited, I saw Bren standing in front of the steps of the door. His expression seemed irritated as he watched me exit the door. He wore a maroon and navy blue jacket that corresponds to Toxin’s form.

“About time, man. I’ve been standing here for five minutes,” he complained as he stared at me as I locked the front door.

“Five minutes isn’t nothing,” I replied.

“Whatever. Anyway, where do you want to go?” Bren asked as I walked down the steps of the town house.

“I don’t know. You have anything in mind?” I questioned as we stood in front of the steps of the town house.

“We were gonna get a gift for Dad. Except, we don’t have clue what to get him,” he responded.

“What about we walk around town and see if we desire for any of the shops,” Sleeper suggested.

A moment later, we began to walk down the aisle of town houses. We live near the metro of the city—close enough to where we can intervene if there’s a crime nearby.

We walked down numerous blocks of stores. However, none of them caught my interest. Except, Bren and Toxin’s attention was focused on such a dogwater store.

We paused in front of a Barnes and Noble.

“How about we look through Barnes and Noble?” Bren suggested as he stared at the sign that spelled out BARNES & NOBLE.

“You actually shop here?” I questioned them.

“Yeah? You don’t?”

“No, man. It’s so dog water,” I responded in annoyance.

“Whatever, man. Let’s just get inside. It’s so cold out here,”

Then, we entered through the open entrance of the dog water store. I don’t know if they have chocolate in here. I could sense Venom really wanting it.

“Does this place sell Chocolate?” I asked Bren as Toxin slowly appeared next to his neck.

“Well there’s a Starbucks in here. There’s a chance they could have chocolate,” Bren answered.

We then walked passed a few aisles to reach Starbucks. There were only a few shelf’s that contained similar items to chocolate. We browsed through some of them. However, there was an inconvenience.

“What the hell? How are they out of chocolate?” Bren exclaimed in a frustrated look.

“You know what, it’s fine. We can always look somewhere else,” I responded.

“But they shouldn’t be out of chocolate. They’re usually in stock!” Toxin replied as he let out a tendril to tap on the display name.

“See? It’s supposed to be all chocolate,” Toxin said. “All of those greedy humans took them al!”

“Calling us greedy, huh?” I commented.

“Like what you said. Let’s look somewhere else,” Bren repeated.

However, as we slowly approached the exit of Starbucks, we heard a little commotion behind us.

“Give us ALL of you money, lady!” a man with a ski mask begged as he held a pistol in front of the cashier.

“YEAH! Just give us the money, and you’ll be free. You don’t want to die, do you?” the accomplish demanded as he held both a pistol and a gray Walmart bag.

Sleeper and I stared at Bren and Toxin, and they stared back. Without any words, and by the family connection we had, we already knew what to do.

“COME ON LADY HURRY—“

“You dare arm an innocent woman?” Toxin questioned as they shifted their arms into a sharp precise blade.

“You all are going to hell,” I sharply criticized in my Codex form. It’s a good thing Venom left a tiny piece of himself within me—in case of an emergency.

“WHAT THE HELL?!” one of the robbers shouted as Sleeper shifted into its regular form—fuming numerous chemicals in the air.

In the end, the two robbers were no big deal. We were only there to intimidate them. They lay flat—unconscious on the checkered floor.

“You will be safe, lady,” Toxin said as they walked across the two unconscious bodies.

“Please call the police immediately,” I requested. “And tell them… we saved you,”

End?…

———————————————————————————

Part 2?

I might create more Venom fanfics in the future.

I’m currently making a small comic and the fic was based off of that. Stay tuned for that!

Happy New Years everyone!

#venom #venom comics #eddie brock #marvel #comics #venom symbiote #marvel comics #dylan brock #symbrock #sleeper symbiote #bren waters #toxin symbiote

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mizugucci · 9 months ago

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onf in chicago

hi yall im finally posting my account of seeing onf in chicago!!!! its only like 4 days late... like i said best day ever!!! below are all my notes + a bunch of photos, please forgive what i look like lol but i was so happy :)

for those that know me, know this was a HUGE deal. so of course this is going to be very long and detailed. luckily for most of my followers ill be putting it under a readmore <3

so i bought the highest tier ticket for obvious reasons, so ill just so chronologically:

first was sound check and they did ugly dance and i could NOT believe i was seeing onf in the flesh. im pretty sure i died and went to heaven then and there

once they were done with soundcheck, they did the hi-touch and group photo. the actual practice was messy but it was fun so i don't think people minded. i dont remember anything except that for whatever reason, i was legitimately the FIRST PERSON and it was a lot lmao

additionally during the group photo i had wyatt to myself lol i froze for a second but he was so kind and polite, he asked what pose i wanted to do and i dont remember if i responded or not but we did a little heart together <3

then the fansign happened and i dont remember the majority of it, partly bc i was a flustered idiot lol but i got my complete album signed!!!! life goal met for sure. wyatt i remember specifically thinking again how kind and polite he was, idr seungjun/etion but i got to hyojin and he had his hand up kind of for a highfive and i gave him the album and tried to high five at the same time it was. very awkward LOL he thought it was funny (i hope) then yuto complimented my kitty cat ears!!! i remember saying something stupid and being an idiot in front of minkyun too but. what can we do

finally was the long anticipated fanchat!!! i had my fanchat with yuto obviously and it was nerve wracking as hell but i love him so much i powered through and i hope he got something out of our conversation

the photo that we took & he signed was my best one of the night, so im really happy with how that turned out. its going to be my treasure for a long time to come:

anyway first thing i want to note is that we were sitting at high tables for the talk, but he couldnt even sit without the table dwarfing him so he stood the whole time LMAO my short king i love him so much

so after we took the photo i sat down and honestly im not sure how much he understood the first half, bc he didnt react/respond and he was slightly confused about english in the 2nd half but ANYWAY i told him i was so so proud of him, how far he's come and especially weathering the time of being alone during military era... lots of gushy stuff lol

then i asked him what b-side he liked dancing to the most and he was SO CUTE when he cocked his head and went "b-side?" so it took a moment to get my point across and he was like ohhhh, umm fly me to the moon! and i almost made a total fool of myself reacting LOL bc as some of you know, fly me to the moon is literally my favorite ONF b-side. of all time. and partly due to yuto's center dance break with the saxophone.

yuto was confused but excited when i reacted (like i audibly gasped) and i said omg thats my favorite too!!! and he got so happy and i even proved it further being like, *points to u* dance break center! saxophone! and he nodded a bunch and was so excited lmao

i think he was also surprised at being a favorite, especially when he asked me when i became a fan and i said end of 2017 (which was true i was a fan, but became a stan in jan of 2019) and he seemed impressed! then our chat had ended there and i almost passed out afterwards haha

then we all had to leave the venue again before the concert started. i met a lot of really cool people that day so some of us went across the street to dunkin. had fun lmao

the concert started and my GOD minkyun's mic was on!!!!! and how does he always have so much energy??? also i had the lightstick and was having the time of my life screaming along lol they were fantastic incredible showstopping etc etc i tried to take some videos but i was just vibing (and shaking) too much i had to give up. but it was so nice to finally go to a concert that i had the lightstick for

went into the concert with solid 3rd bias (etion) and came out of it 3rd bias as seungjun lol. theres a lot to talk about song-wise but ill save that for later. in short, i almost cried when they did bye my monster. and tmwl. and byubyu.

also elle i did record asteroid for you (not that its a good video, or one that ill share...) but it did remind me of you lol! they did difficult & moscow moscow which were both surprises to me but very welcome. all day as well was fantastic!

about halfway thru the concert (but not the ballad section) i had given up on videos so i was just rocking out w the lightstick & i pretended to hit hyojins high note with the lightstick as a microphone until someone that i met nudged me & looked up to see seungjun staring at me

it was sooo funny the facial expression he was making. i cant even describe it but once we made eye contact it was like he smiled slowly literally like the grinch and went 'hehe' to make sure i knew he saw me doing that LOL

so i knew i had to get a snapshot with him that showcased the lightstick:

theres so much more about the concert but its all mainly about the songs & the fact i finally saw them live. but i do need to mention the fact goosebumps was practically a rave lmao loved it

after the concert was the group photo selfie which was really cool but would be better if my phones camera wasnt absolute shit & they did a more flattering angle...

dont let this photo fool you, they are short kings (im as tall or taller than multiple of them, minkyun & wyatt are the only ones i remember being taller than me. wyatt was surprising)

i didnt really say anything memorable during snapshots bc i was just so star-struck, but i do remember wyatt going out of his way to be nice lol also i saw yuto multiple times & i was sooo mad there was only a few of us that bought premium snapshot for him. i also got along well with minkyun and highfived him again. i let most of the members choose their poses. yes i got multiple mks. yes i made him do cat ears.

and here are all the others. i got at least 1 type of snapshot with each of the members

anyway tl;dr best day of my life, its only downhill from here! unless they announce another tour... we shall see... im so glad they're getting so much love from fuse, i know we (both onf and fuses) have been waiting for a long time

im also very happy that there really is no reason NOT to have overseas tours... we've already beat the 7 year curse & completed military. the world is onf's oyster and i cant wait to see what they do going forward <3

#onf #onf in chicago #haley & elle if u see this pls read #youll know why LOL #onf spotlight tour #there are rumors of an encore tour #and/or another comeback+tour combo #im saving up regardless btw #mtxt #idk why anyone would but this is fine to rb!

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oldguy56-world · 2 months ago

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I Can See Clearly Now

I had a little mishap the other day that was life changing. I hit my head on the vegetable crisper in the fridge and knocked myself out. Don't ask me how this happened because I have no idea. Last thing I remember, I was running for the door I had to find a passage back to the place I was before. (Wait a minute. That sounds familiar. Have I written about this before?) Anyway, while I was out (literally) I experienced visions of the future. It was very strange. I wondered is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality. (Gee that sounds familiar as well. I need to go back and see if I wrote these haunting, lyrical words as well). My wife found me lying on the floor so she dumped a big glass of water on my head. Two things happened: I woke up and I peed on the floor. Once I was awake the visions stopped. Unfortunately it was before I saw the winning lottery numbers. There was still some valuable information I have that I will share with you, plus one thing that has nothing to do with you. If you are ready to have your mind blown sit back and have a drink while you too get a glimpse at what is to come.

Here is the one that has no effect on you. I saw a coin being flipped and it came up heads. I jumped up and down as it was of some significance for some reason. Problem now is that I am locked into calling heads for every coin toss the rest of my life.

It was on the news that a chicken was found that could lay up to 100 eggs a day. With the egg shortage this is significant. The farmer thought he would cash in by selling it to the military for analysis and possible duplication but unfortunately the colonel that bought it was named Sanders.

All of the Executive orders being signed were temporarily halted when the president discovered the sharpies he was using were made in Mexico. The person in charge of supplies at the White House was fired for treason.

In a related story the president started shouting 'Get me an American sharpie.' Because his mouth was crammed with a Big Mac at the time his words were misunderstood and someone brought him a Shar Pei from Pittsburgh. Further problems ensued when the dog tried mating with Trump's hair.

Last thing I saw in the White House visions involved an Executive order (signed before the sharpie/shar pei incidents) that came back to bite the president in the butt. It seems his grandfather entered the country illegally, making everyone in the family line to follow also illegal. They are last seen on a plane heading to a s%#thole country in Africa and Vance dancing on the tarmac chanting 'it's like a dream.'

Humans were settling on Mars. First structures had eerily familiar golden arches. First groups up were the super rich. Once they were there all return flights were cancelled.

Canada made The U.S. the 11th province. To pay for their universal health care we sold Alaska back to Russia, Texas back to Mexico and just to top up the treasury we sold Florida to Cuba. We also left Alabama and Mississippi alone until they can sign the papers to be accepted.

Dinosaurs reappeared in the Caribbean but the first hurricane of the season took care of that.

After a solar flair dogs and cats learn to talk. Subsequently a lot of owners found themselves in hot water with spouses, police or anyone that would listen. Seems the furry critters have been holding in a lot of secrets.

I saw myself at 122 years old. Not a pretty sight. That's all I will say about that.

FYI I am not allowed to be by myself in the kitchen anymore when the fridge is open. I believe that is punishment for the pee on the floor thing.

THOUGHT OF THE WEEK: Would it be a good thing or a bad thing to know what is coming next?

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back-and-totheleft · 2 years ago

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Ten quotes

Filmmaker Oliver Stone visited the Alamo Drafthouse in Littleton on Sunday to introduce perhaps his best- and least-known films: Natural Born Killers (1994) and the largely forgotten U-Turn (1997), the latter starring Sean Penn, Jennifer Lopez, Nick Nolte, Jon Voight, Powers Boothe, Julie Hagerty (!), Claire Danes and Joaquin Phoenix. Based on a book and screenplay by John Ridley (Twelve Years a Slave), it’s about a man who is heading to Las Vegas to pay off a gambling debt until forced to stop at the broken-down desert town of Superior, Ariz.

Here are our 10 favorite things that came out of Stone’s mouth after the U-Turn screening, ranging from his thoughts on Will Ferrell as the epitome of all evil; to the shouting from Jennifer Lopez’s motel room while filming U-Turn; to the influence of the animated cat-and-mouse Tom and Jerry on his score; to the letter of recommendation he wrote for Claire Danes; to working with an insecure young actor named Donald Trump on Wall Street (“He doesn’t entertain failure”); to how our modern world has been driven to the brink of madness:

On Sean Penn: "Poor Sean. He put up with a lot. He was a replacement for Bill Paxton, who dropped out at the last second because he was freaked out by the role. Strange fellow. But Sean stepped in, and he helped us make the film – because it was really close to falling apart."

On Jennifer Lopez: "She was married at the time to a young Cuban, and the walls of that Arizona motel … man, talk about Latin temperament. There was a lot of banging and screaming. People would say, ‘I need sleep, so I can’t stay in the room next to Jennifer Lopez.’ Meanwhile, Sean Penn has got his eye on her, too, so there was this whole crazy jealousy thing going on. But Jennifer came to see me years later, after she had become J.Lo. She was another person completely now. It was after her third marriage or something. She said to me, ‘I want to go back. I want to make that kind of movie again. I just want to get real like that.’ Because she had been doing all that glittery stuff."

On whistle-blower Edward Snowden, the subject of his upcoming film, Snowden: "I am really not at liberty to say too much. Put it this way: He’s smart, he’s articulate, he cares very much, and it doesn’t matter that he’s in Russia. He could be anywhere in the world. He’s still connected by the Internet. This is a man who spends possibly 70 percent of his time on a computer. He keeps his contacts up. He participates in forums and discussions and lectures. And he is working very seriously on a constitution for the Internet, which we really need. Many, many people admire him. I find him in good spirits. I didn’t see any sign of depression. He has broadened his sense of humor. I showed him the film a couple of weeks ago (Snowden), and he responded very well."

On the current presidential race: "I am scared. But I don’t think the Republicans are the issue. Everyone wants to be stronger and stronger in terms of dealing with the world, but that’s not the right way to go about it. I believe in an international balance of power. I am concerned that Hillary Clinton is embraced by the neo-conservatives, or the liberal interventionists as I call them, because her policies, and Obama’s policies, and Bush’s policies have driven us to the edge of madness. We have created a mess in the Middle East with four interventions. Also Afghanistan and Libya. We are not effective as a military force abroad. We don’t need 800 military bases. We have to change our way of thinking. Sanders gets it, to some degree. And Trump, in his own way, actually gets it, too. He’s the only Republican who has come out and said outright: ‘Hey, that Iraq war was a stupid (bleeping) thing to do.’ And all these Republicans are shocked. The establishment is shocked. ‘How can you say that Mr. Bush screwed up?’ I mean, come on. It’s about time we wake up in this country. Let’s get real."

Working with Donald Trump in Wall Street: "He’s a smart dude. He’s funny. And yet, he’s an egomaniac and a narcissist, as you can see. I’ll never forget this: He jumped up after Take 1 of his scene with Michael Douglas and said, ‘How was I? I was great, wasn’t I?’ I said, ‘Donald, it was good, but I think you can do better.’ I got him to do nine or 10 takes, and he would jump up after every one and say the same thing. ‘How was I?’ He doesn’t entertain failure."

On U-Turn actors Joaquin Phoenix and Claire Danes: "They really did a turn in this film. This was before they became really famous. They were both such fun. It was a delight. Sean Penn’s character says, “Is everybody in this town on drugs?” And that’s the overall feeling of the movie. You have to be free and you can’t care. Claire was not hot at that point. She had done Romeo and Juliet with Leonardo DiCaprio, and he took off from that movie. She … less so. So by the time U-Turn came along, she was happy to grab it. She was going back to Yale at that point, and she wanted me to write her a letter of recommendation. I had flunked out of Yale, but I wrote it anyway. She always thanked me for that. She is a wonderful actress."

On who he looks up to: "It would be easier for you to give me a list with everyone on it and I could tell you who to take off. Most of the people would stay on it. Stanley Kubrick was a big deal for me when I was young. So was Federico Fellini. So was Jean-Luc Godard and Luis Buñuel. In my generation: Francis Ford Coppola, of course. Martin Scorsese. William Friedkin. In this generation: Alejandro Iñárritu has done a tremendous job. Birdman is an interesting philosophical story. So is The Revenant. He’s got talent. A lot of other people do, too. I think this Adam McKay, who did The Big Short, is very smart. He’s very good with dialogue, too."

On the Foley cartoon sounds in U-Turn: "The music was by Ennio Morricone, and he has a beautiful history. He not only some wrote Sergio Leone classics but also 1900, which I think is one of the most beautiful scores ever written. He’s written for so many people. I wanted him to do two things for me: One was this love theme, which I thought was tremendous. But the rest of it – he didn’t do it right. And he is not the easiest guy to get along with, if you talk to most people. He knew the game: His contract said he would never come back to the United States. So there would be no rewrites. When he delivered the score, the love theme was there. But the rest was not what I wanted. So I had to bring him back, and he was really (bleeped) off. That was a rough three days. I was trying to make him understand what I wanted, because I can’t put it into musical terms. I can only express it. I wanted the music he had done for Leone, only modernized with those reverbs and those exaggerated sounds. I call it kind of a cartoon sound. That booinnnng sound. He just didn’t seem to get it. I was desperate, so I showed him a cartoon of Tom and Jerry. I said, ‘That’s sort of what I want.’ He was so upset. He said: “You want me to write cartoon music? You brought me back to America for this?” He gave me what I wanted on a second pass, thank God. He’s still a (bleep) but … I am glad to see he got an Oscar. Not for his best music (The Hateful Eight). Probably his worst score, in fact. But he I am glad to see he got an Oscar."

On Oliver Stone’s movie recommendations: "You might boo me for this, but I was laughing my head off when I saw Zoolander 2. The critics all turned on it, They said it was dreck. But it’s very witty. Very well-written. And Will Ferrell has never been better as the incarnation of all evil. I say this seriously: You see evil in my movies, but when you see this movie, you will see evil. The way evil has become in the modern world."

Advice to a first-time filmmaker: "Get a good night’s sleep. That’s very important. Stay healthy. Eat well. It’s exhausting. I find directing is like being the host of a giant party. You are trying to put through your vision of a film, if you have one, and you are going to find there are a lot of impediments to that. It takes inner grit."

-Oliver Stone in Denver: Ten awesome quotes, Denver Center for the Performing Arts, March 7 2026

#oliver stone #denver #matt zoller seitz #u turn #jennifer lopez #sean penn #bill paxton

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mistydeyes · 2 years ago

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hiiii can i get a codmw2 pairing please? :)

Appearence:

I'm 5'2", pretty strong, and a bit chubby. I have like shoulder-armpit length hair that i usually curl the ends of. the ends of hair are actually reddish pink because i'm growing out my bleached hair and back to my natural dark dark dark brown. i'm asian and i have a cat face aesthetic (its a korean thing i think) and i love wearing make up, but really like neutral and natural makeup.

Personality & Likes and Dislikes:

i'm actually quite adventurous and love to do new things like paragliding, jet skiing, canoeing, and a bunch of other stuff. i'm pretty nonchalant and i love laughing and having fun with people, but if something upsets me, i won't hesitate to be assertive and confront the person. people have told me i'm painfully honest, but i don't really care because i like when people are honest with me even if it hurts. i hate when people are harsh on others for no reason and always think they're better than others. i love cooking, baking, and spending time out and about rather than staying at home, but i will stay home if i'm lazy :))

Future:

I just signed my papers for the us air force and i'm planning on shipping out next year because i'm working right now as a sterile processing tech to get some money for my family and to just chill out too. when i join, i'll go to tech school to be an aerospace medic and probably just continue with the medical path because i've been doing it since high school

What I look for in a Partner:

I want someone who can care for me and keep up with me and my spontaneous personality. I want someone who's outgoing but also able to watch over me and not be as reckless. like someone who would take me out to a karaoke bar and be my singing buddy but also give me a piggy back ride because my feet hurt from my heels yk? someone responsible but also fun

sorry if this was a little long :( tysm izzie!!

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

How you met: Military Kyle had the experience of a lifetime as he was invited to the US Air Force Academy in Colorado to provide some insight on successfully parachuting out of planes. He excitedly demonstrated the techniques on the ground to the cadets and led the exercise through the air. Once he was done, one of the Staff Sergeants invited him to take a ride on the F-15E Strike Eagle and experience Mach 2.5+. Of course, Kyle said yes but as the plane rose in altitude and the pilot continued accelerating, he knew he was doomed as he lost consciousness. When Kyle woke up, still strapped in the plane but grounded, he immediately threw up on the person who was trying to unbuckle his harness. Unfortunately, you had the honor of being covered in vomit as you were trying to wake him up. His eyes grew like saucers when he saw your gorgeous face twist in disgust. "I am so sorry," he said as you tried to shake off the chunks from your uniform. "It's alright, Sergeant Garrick, let's get you to the medical wing," you politely said as the recruits and even their commanding officers laughed wildly at the sick British officer. As you slung an arm around his waist and helped him down, he continued to apologize. "Please call me Kyle, it's the least you can do after all this," he said and you hoped he would make it to the wing without throwing up again.

A peek into your relationship: After his fiasco, Kyle was invited back every year to embarrass himself and to tell the new hot shot recruits of the horrors that he experienced in the F-15E Strike Eagle. You were ecstatic whenever he texted you about his arrival as that meant you could spend the evenings with him, your boyfriend. "...then we strapped him onto the plane and he passed out upon take off," Kyle joked as you entered the karaoke bar. "I wouldn't laugh at him Garrick or should I remind you of the smell of vomit that you coated me with," you teased and the tips of his ears turned red. "I did make an impression on you," he sheepishly said as you made your way to the booth. You kissed his cheek as you went through the different song selections. Finally, you landed on the perfect one. "Sing with me," you said as you threw the microphone at him. He sipped his beer and joined you as the beginning notes of Don't Stop Believing by Journey began to play. "JUST A SMALL TOWN GIRL, LIVIN' IN A LONELY WORLD" he belted and you struggled with the next verse as you were laughing too hard. As the song continued, you both did your best to belt out the verses and also keep from dying of laughter. By the end of it, your voices were hoarse but you continued with all the hit classics as your boyfriend spun you around and shamelessly serenading you.

#izziespairings #madebyizzie #cod mwii #mw2 imagine #task force 141 #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #mw2

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felixcloud6288 · 2 years ago

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Fullmetal Alchemist Chapter 38

Lin told Al and Winry stuff. I'm glad Lin took off his shoes before placing his feet on the bed.

This is the first time Winry was around when something happened. The danger Ed and Al are putting themselves in is suddenly less abstract. It's been three days since she found out Hughes was dead.

Lust is certain in Gluttony and Envy's skill. Cut to Envy and Gluttony getting beat. With the Gluttony fight, it was fun to pay attention to Private First Class Black Hayate. Not only did he bite Gluttony's shoulder, he also spooked him by jumping and yapping. Then he jumped out of the way when Hawkeye and Fuery opened fire on Gluttony. And then there's his reactions to everything after.

Lan Fan and Lin can both detect the Homunculi. This is the first time we get explicit confirmation they have a Philosopher's Stone in them so now I can say that's what they're detecting. So when the Xing characters start talking about weird sensations about Amestris, a vigilant reader might start connecting some dots.

No matter what he looks like, Lin will always be my babygirl.

Roy was surprised Alphonse showed up so that means Lin bringing him along was not part of the Super Heist. But Al is welcome to join.

When we get these little moments of information exchange, I like to try tracing things back to how did they get the info. For a moment, I wandered how Al knew Envy's name. Al had seen him before when Envy brought Ed's unconscious body from Lab 5, but it took me a moment to remember Ed heard his name and shared it with Al, Armstrong, and Hughes later. So that's how Al got the info. Nobody connected any dots from Envy's transforming powers to Hughes's death though. No one in the car knows Maria Ross was witnessed killing him.

A nice little miscellaneous thing during the car ride and info-sharing scene is we see Hawkeye and Havoc reloading their guns.

Is that a "Cat Crossing" street sign?

Barry's pursuit leads closer to the middle of Central so that means Lab 3 is in the inner city.

Roy uses Barry's rampage as the perfect excuse to head into Lab 3 without needing a warrant or anything. Roy brings up an incident at the penitentiary earlier that day and refers to Barry as the murderer. I wanted to make sure this wasn't some translation error and Roy wasn't referring to the guy who broke Maria Ross out, and I think this is a separate incident because Barry didn't kill anyone there so the perpetrator being a murderer is not applicable. (I mean, yes, Barry is a murderer, but the details of the breakout wouldn't imply that.)

Alphonse seems nervous playing along with Roy's ruse. He's not military personnel.

From this shot when the team splits up, we can tell the hallway is slightly curved.

This is a seemingly irrelevant detail but I'm going to build on this in the next few chapters so keep this in the back of your mind. The room Roy and Havoc find in the long hallway appears to have been to their right.

I hope Mustang and Havoc got treated for potential infections after all this was over because there's no way that water was sanitary.

That move Roy used to break the water down into hydrogen and oxygen, that could just be some Alchemy stuff or he could have been applying a real world technique called electrolysis.

Electrolysis involves channeling a direct current through substance to trigger a chemical reaction that otherwise wouldn't happen. For water, electrolysis requires the current to travel through an electric conductor in the water. Oxygen gathers in the positive side of the conductor while hydrogen gathers in the negative side. If that was what Roy did, then he was likely able to achieve it using something in the room as a conductor and himself as the battery.

He probably wouldn't be able to use it to dry his gloves though since the conductor can't be touching other materials, otherwise the current would flow into them instead.

I wonder if this is an error caused by the translation process. There's a blank pixel on one panel.

Roy does that eye thing a few times but he does it in bursts. His eyes are obscured when he shoots Lust in response to her taunt about Hughes. He does it when she shows her Philosopher's Stone (That was probably shock). He does it when Havoc gets stabbed (shock again). He does it when he grabs Havoc's gun, but not when he shoots Lust. And he does it when he rips her stone out of her body and they go back to normal as soon as he rips it out.

The part where he was shooting Lust to demand information was personal business. The part where he blew her up was professional. And his reaction to Havoc getting hurt made it personal again but he calmed down to make sure he could shoot Lust.

Unlike Greed, Lust is able to use her powers and regenerate at the same time. It might be possible she, and by extension all the homunculi, can wait to regenerate because she was able to lie in wait to ambush Roy and Havoc after being blown up.

And when Lust's stone is ripped out, her body disintegrates only to build a new one around the stone. So the stones are their actual "bodies" and their physical bodies are just vessels for them. Lust commented on what Roy did just before destroying her old body so her memories are stored in the stone.

back

Spoiler Discussion

Lin most likely told Al about the heist to smuggle Maria Ross out of the country and that Ed was taken away so he could safely give Roy information.

When Ed and company infiltrate the Lab 3 hallway late in the series, Hohenheim takes the same route Roy and Havoc took and got to Father's lair with no trouble. Presumably, this means the door Lust was guarding leads straight to him.

#fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchemist reread

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bowlerhatwearer · 2 years ago

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Silent Judgement in Evergreen Forest

TW: Murder, TW: Blood, TW: Death, TW: Violence; TW: Alcohol ; TW: Guns

Characters: Ian Snapshot, Unknown Lieutenant General, Unknown Assistant, Several Army officials.

Originally written: 12th September 2022

„Evergreen Forest so deep and dark you will never be seen

Evergreen Forest were they all go, never hear their screams“

Or something like that, he honestly could not remember, how that poem was going, or was it a lullaby?

It no longer mattered.

What however did, was he was stuck here, in this bunker, in the forest that was mentioned in the lines he thought about, he was in here, with twenty-two other people.

All of them war veterans, military personnel with different rank and name, members or the brass, Corporals, Sergeants, Lieutenants, Majors, Colonels etc. etc.

With him, sitting here, with them in the dining room of this block of concrete, eating their meal, except for him and he hated every moment of it.

Of course he knew them all, personally and by name, but that did not mean he had to like them.

Drinking and eating, socialising as if there were no problems, boasting about accomplishments none of those around him ever did or talking about medals they didn’t deserve to wear.

He was not participating in this gourmet orgy as his “colleagues” did as they had done in the last few days, all of them having lower ranks than his.

Scratching his wounded ear, the general let out a snort, wondering for exactly how long things would continue to go like this.

The reasons all of them were here was simple, the government had gotten information that all of their lives were in danger, someone was out there to get them, he did not know why exactly, but given all the blood they had on their hands, he had lost sight of the enemies they had made over the many years he had served in the army.

At this point, he honestly didn’t care, he had figured out something, the others did not, and if they were too dense to notice the signs, than that was one them.

While he was fighting at the front with his soldiers, the rest in this room sat with their lazy behinds in their tents, smoking and drinking as they barked orders to their subordinates who died in the heat of battle, while they waited safe and secure behind the lines, and hoping they would get another pad on the back by the state with words of praise and honour.

Oh he loathed all of them, he was not a person who exaggerated, however in this case he could say without any doubt, that he, in this room, was the only one, who earned his rank truthfully, and his body was proof for that. He was the only one he cared about.

Well, except maybe for his assistant who for minutes now had tried to peel an orange for him, as he had ordered, yet, their progress was, sobering.

Rolling his eyes he let out a sigh, he was getting too old for all of this nonsense.

„Just, just give it to me already.“

He could feel how the anxious cheetah flinched for a moment, before handing the fruit to him, instead of using a knife, he held the fruit in his hand, as he used his very own teeth to cut into the skin of the orange, before pressing it against his chest, peeling the orange in hand.

„S-Sorry General Sir.“

„Eh, it could be worse.“

For example, being in this place any minute longer, he was wondering when the moment came he would start to suffer from lockdown fatigue.

Looking up he observed the cheetah again, his personal aide-de-camp

Was the army nowadays so desperate that they were taking anyone now?

He knew, that his assistant had the heart on the right place, but darn were they an anxious wreck, they were loyal of course, perhaps a bit oblivious but was it so hard to get competent help these days?

The sound of something, rolling caught his and, as he noticed, his assistants attention, it was not difficult to take a guess, what was happening and who entered the scene.

A short black-footed cat, wearing formal-wear that made him shine out from the military personnel, he looked as tense as his aide-de-camp and had his eyes were half closed.

One their second day they all got here, he introduced himself to them, as their personal waiter, for their stay in the bunker, bringing them their meals each day, but also, offering other luxury goods, like tobacco or alcohol.

The before mentioned was being wheeled in a metal cart, its surface covered with a white table cloth that reached nearly to the floor, with only an inch or two of air between the ground and the fabric.

Whiskey, brandy, gin, absinth, wine etc. etc. everything a bunch of war veterans could wish for, together with two boxes of cigars being on the cart as the cat waiter wheeled it in with what appeared to be, great effort.

The general could hear how all the others, with their ranks cheered when they saw what was brought in the midst of them eating their dinner, only he, his assistant and the waiter remained silent.

Firstly of course, he was approached by the waiter, but, he swiftly declined, he was not in the mood of drinking or smoking, he wanted to be out of this stuffy, and in his view rather small room, that was cramped with chairs and a large table, that was all in his view an obstacle for someone to walk, or run.

Not that this was something he thought about of course, he just wanted to be gone.

Looking a the black-footed cat, he saw how the small waiter walked to the person, with the next highest rank beside of him, the colonel.

A tall figure, with countless of honours and medals on his uniform, laughing about some anecdote from his life of the military he had just told, which the general wondered if it really happened as he had told it, noticing the presence of the waiter, he grinned giving him praise before telling him what sort of drink he wanted from the cat.

He wanted to leave, and he was going to do that now.

Silently he ordered the cheetah to the door of the conference room, which, obviously they had no need for, giving that they were just waiting it out until the government would give them, their ok for them to leave.

But he wanted to be alone, or, as alone as that was possible with his aide-de-camp moving with him as they approached the door.

An angry shout caused the general to turn his head, as he was searching trough his jacket for his personal identification card

From what he could see, was, that the shaky and tense waiter, had accidentality spilled a bit of the alcoholic beverage he filled in the whiskey glass of the colonel, on the table.

Reasons enough for the colonel to throw an angry fit because, yes, he had to show one last time his potency, searching for any excuse to yell at someone who had a lower rank, or none at all so he could display how great, strong and mighty he believed to be.

Yeah, he would really not miss the Colonel when he would die.

Which was going to happen soon anyway.

Moving his head again, looking at the door as he was opening it with his ID, it was a sturdy and well reinforced door, but of course he knew, that it couldn’t stop anything in the end or prevent the unstoppable.

As he looked up he breathed out before addressing the cheetah.

“Lets go in this room, these idiots have not noticed a single thing yet.”

Before his feline assistant could ask him what he meant with that, he was interrupted by a loud voice that went trough the whole room. Everyone was silent and no one moved.

“Care to enlighten us, what you mean general?”

Oh him thinking out loud always caused some trouble, but well, he didn’t care, especially not right now or that it involved the Colonel.

Giving his assistant an order with a hand sign, he turned around to look at them all, but especially at the colonel, as their views were focused on him.

“You really want to tell me that you and the others have not seen it yet, colonel?”

“Seen what? A ghost or a phantom perhaps?-”

With a grin, he took emptied the glass with the alcoholic drink in one gulp, putting it down with a loud “thump” sound, as he exhaled satisfied, causing him, the general to roll his eyes, before the colonel continued with confidence to talk, at the same moment as he was eating a piece of the rest of the rare steak that was on his plate.

“-we have been here safe and sound for the last two weeks. Face it general, I think that at this point, it can be said what we all are thinking in this room. The danger, of an assassination of us, was merely a false alarm, a rumour out of proportion from reality-”

Letting out a deep laugh, he could see how the colonel did not care that some of the steaks sauce, was dropping on his uniform or on the floor, neither did anyone else, the only person moving was just the waiter, who appeared, calmer, having placed his hands casually on the cart, as the black-footed cat gave a soft grin, and observed the general with curiosity with his half closed eyes.

“-but I welcome this situation. In this last fourteen days we have gotten excellent service without having to lift a finger, having been supplied trough the tax payers money.”

This time the whole table of war veterans was laughing, his assistant gave him a look, with the general noticing that he was feeling unwell, he did not had to worry any longer.

He ordered his aide-de-camp to go in the room before him, moving the last few feet into the room himself, before, thanks to his assistant, turning around again, facing the group of people he had no respect for, one last time.

“For two weeks, we have been in this location indeed, a place the government has brought us discreetly for our own safety. In two weeks you have enough time to figure out were our defence it the weakest, and finding a place to take out everyone at once.”

Either way really, oblivious to what he had just said, or having not listened at all to him, the Colonel put another piece of steak into his mouth, as he turned to the general.

“Pah, and were should that position be you old oaf? And were do you think the assassin would be?”

Ignoring the childish insult, he didn’t grin as he prepared his answer, he wanted to tell it to them as straight and plainly as possible.

“Why, this very room were you are all sitting of course, and they are here in plain sight.”

It had gone quiet, but before anyone else could have said anything, he continued.

“Let me all ask you something. In a bunker only we should know about, why would there be a waiter in formal clothing?”

They all were now looking at the black footed cat who for the first time was opening his eyes.

He, the general was already closing the door to the conference room with his plastic identification card, as he saw in the gap that became smaller every moment, as the cat had pulled a gun from under the cart.

One second lieutenant and a sergeant major who sat in front of the waiter were their first victims, getting shot into the back of their heads, before they could have reacted.

For a moment he could hear the shouts and screams of alarm, then the door was finally closed.

Of course, he and his assistant still could hear the fight going on, as the general moved away from the door by himself.

Several guns were being fired at once, obviously they all were armed for their own safety, but, the general had a feeling, it was not going to help his “colleagues” at all.

More of the weapons fell silent, and so did the muffled shouts and screams of the army officials, who all were murdered behind the door.

He was not afraid of whatever would happen now, at least he would die not with the rest and his body would be found in a separate room.

Looking up, he glanced for the first time at his aide-de-camp after the massacre started.

Oh they were not doing well, even if they tried to remain collected, he could see how their chest was rising, the poor fella was going to have a stroke any second now if he was not calming down.

“Listen...they are here for me, not you, don’t do anything provoking and you will get out of here just fine, do you understand?”

Despite him squeezing his assistants hand with his for reassurance, it appeared that the cheetah was too much in shock, to having heard anything he had just said to them, they were just breathing desperately for more air.

As the sounds of the army personnel getting slaughtered grew more quiet, he allowed himself to linger in his thoughts for a moment, before the inevitable would happen.

Once again, he thought about, what exactly the reason could be for this assassination. But no matter what, he could not think of a specific one.

But well, over his career certainly something must have happened, that involved the others who were, so he assumed by now, dead.

After all, he did not loose one eye, hand, leg and ear for nothing.

Hearing a “click” sound, he focused on the door , which as slowly as it had closed, opened again.

Preparing himself, he focused on it, but not immediately on the waiter who turned out to be a killer, instead of what was behind him.

A battlefield in one room, with motionless bodies of twenty war veterans, the grey concrete floor, soaking in a film of blood that continued to spread, with their guns now useless, soaking in the body liquids of their users.

On the table he could see the Colonel, his mouth wide open, as if in his last moments he was screaming, or in shock, being in disbelieve of what was happening, and that he would pay with his own life, instead of taking one of the many as he did in the past.

There was no sympathy he felt for him, or the other who laid there dead

His focus was shifted again, now to the one who he had suspected for some time now, but did not say anything because, well, he, the general saw no reason to do so.

No longer did he smile or was tense and his eyes were still open, in his left hand he held his gun while in the other he held a bundle of dog tags, that were coated with fresh blood, that continued to drip on the floor. His focus was only on one person now, him.

Yet before a word could be exchanged or another action happen between the two, someone else took the imitative, taking their gun and pointing it at the assailant as they let out a roar.

“No you idiot, don’t!”

Not a single shot was fired at first, too fast in zigzag did the in blood soaked cat move, dropping their besmirched gun on the table, he grabbed the cheetahs arm that held the gun who frantically pulled the trigger, the bullets either way hitting the ceiling, wall, floor or table, but not one of them, sooner than expected by the general, the gun was empty.

Letting go of his arm, instead the cat balled his hands to fists and before the aide-de-camp could react, already had one of them in their stomach, and the other punching him in his face, causing him to fall on the ground.

“Enough! It’s me you want, leave them alone, they are too young...to be your target.”

Looking his words were now directed to his assistant.

“And you, don’t move, or else he will kill you.”

For a moment he felt how there was an expression of concern, and worry on his usually stoic face, seeing the cheetah coiling themselves on the ground, the blows were strong, but, nothing was broken and they would live and be alright.

His focus shifted to the attacker, who like him had his focus now on his opponent.

Placing his hand on his lab, he gave him unmistakably the sign that he would not fight back.

“Before you end me, let me ask one thing, who send you?”

There was a short “heh” coming from the cats mouth, before their lips start to move.

“No one, this is entirely, personal.”

The black-footed cats voice, sounded so calm and collected, and not out of breath or exhausted despite the fact, that he had just killed twenty people, and incapacitated one.

“Then do it for what you have come for, at least, I don’t die in the same room with those other bastards.”

He did expect that the killer would grab his gun now, but instead they approached him, with the in blood painted dog-tags still in his hands.

“Oh believe me, killing a Lieutenant General would certainly be a performance, but you were not there, when my whole existence was taken from me, you were in the field hospital, recovering from your latest injury, and besides I am aiming for a higher target anyway.”

As the cat moved closer, they reached his hands in his directions, grabbing him at his armpits as he was lifted up from his wheelchair.

“However, I require some information, that I believe of all of them, only you can give me.”

The attackers tone shifted and was more serious as their hands squeezed him more firmly.

“Where is your superior?”

More intense got the pressure, and it started to feel uncomfortable.

“Were is the general?”

Now it began to feel painful, but he did not stop pressing against his body.

“Were is Samuel Cottontail!?”

Showing his fangs, the lieutenant general felt the hate the cat must have had for the person he mentioned, however, or perhaps especially because of his own pain, he grinned.

“You want him? He has left the army ages ago, no one knows his current whereabouts.”

His attackers eyes burned as if they were ready to kill a thousand people to get answers, and he knew, that if he was going to talk quickly, this really would be his end now.

“Ho-however there are rumours, that he went to the desert, and there are also some detractors, who say that he joined for some reason the enemy...the Wrath.”

From one moment to another, the fruit bat fell back into his wheelchair letting out a surprised gasp.

“That was all the information I needed.”

He wondered, if he and his assistant were going to die now, that the small attacker has anything he needed, but when he picked up his gun, not looking at him or the cheetah and leaving, he knew, they were going to live.

Groaning came from the floor, as his aide-de-camp slowly stood up again, touching their face and then holding their stomach, fortunately it did not look as if they were seriously injured, besides a few bruises of course.

But, it was exactly his lack of injuries, that caused the cheetah to attempt going after the assistant, trying to grab for his empty gun again.

Raising his hand, he ordered the aide-de-camp to stop.

“Don’t, it’s not worth it...what’s done is done.”

They looked at him in disbelieve, that he wanted them to just, let them go, a person who had just murdered twenty high ranking army personal, but, that’s exactly what he intended, however, the cheetah’s expression changed, and although they were not happy about it, nodded and remained by his side.

“S-so, what are we going to do now General Sir?”

It was clear that the whole mess, had taken its toll on his aide-de-camp, and deep down he felt sorry for what they got roped into. And he was not interested that they would get into any more trouble.

“It’s for the best if we leave. Soon enough the government and the army will catch wind about this, and needing scapegoats will put the blame on the two who survived this mess. Something neither you or I deserve. So we better get out of here and lay low for a while.”

Silently his cheetah assistant began to push his wheelchair, which the lieutenant general did not object to, he was feeling very tired about everything that had happened in a few minutes.

Whatever was going to happens now, it was now on Cottontail.

The fruit bat knew his superior would be up for a very unpleasant surprise.

For the person targeting him, who killed twenty people all by himself, was fuelled by one devotion.

Revenge.

#TW: Murder #TW: Blood #tw: death #TW:Violence #TW: Alcohol #tw: guns #If I remember correctly the Lieutenant General and his assistant where prototypes of Horace Wings; and Minerva Border.#Bowlers old fanfictions #Bowlers old stories

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