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vajranam · 3 years

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Ten Wrong Views

The objective basis of wrong views is infallible doctrines such as the law of karmic causality. With assertions like those made by the Nihilists, one perceives such doctrines as false and desires to deprecate them, motivated by one of the afflictions.

The execution comes when one believes these doctrines to be utterly false, thereby confirming one’s suspicions. The act is complete when one feels conviction about this. The fully ripened result of wrong views is a rebirth in whichever of the lower realms is most fitting. The result that resembles its cause is ignorance of the genuine view. As the dominant result, good and evil will be mistaken.

Similarly, when the ten nonvirtuous acts are classified in terms of their respective level of severity, all of the following are extremely severe: motivated by an intensely afflicted mind-set, to murder extraordinary persons such as one’s guru (which is serious from a spiritual point of view) or one’s parents (which is serious from a worldly point of view); or to deceive, steal from, and create divisions between such persons; to insult them; or to harbor a covetous or malicious attitude toward them.

Likewise, to have sexual relations with someone holding the vows of discipline or any other unacceptable partner; to lie and sow discord in order to create a schism within the sangha, as Devadatta did; to assert that there is no such thing as a foe-destroyer; to kill a large animal motivated by a desire for its flesh and blood; to steal many things and those that are very valuable; and to delight in negativity without confessing and committing [to refrain from such acts in the future]. Such acts are extremely weighty, and the opposites of these acts are light.

By way of explanation, the bodhisattva Padma writes:

The ten nonvirtues and the five acts of immediate retribution,

The five close and four weighty acts,

The eight mistaken acts and severe misdeeds—

Even at the cost of your life, abandon even the most minor of these.

The vows that are in harmony with the ten virtues,

Those of the layman, novice, one-day retreatant, fully ordained monk,

And others of individual liberation, also bodhisattva vows and those of Secret Mantra—

Embrace and safeguard the vows you have taken. If you desire liberation,

Safeguard them carefully, as you would your own life.

With a thorough understanding of the classifications just discussed, which pertain to acts and their respective results, examine your mind to clearly identify which of them is the most dominant.

Meditate until your interest and enthusiasm prompts you to think, “Alas! I’ve amassed an immeasurable amount of such negativity up until now, but since my acts have not been embraced with mindful awareness, I’ve wandered in a state of indifference. Like a barbarian, I never knew that I was accumulating karma; what a huge mistake! As represented by the ten nonvirtues, from here on out, whenever a negative mind-set occurs, whether subtle or coarse, I will apply an antidote and turn the other way. Yet this alone will not suffice; I will also work courageously to practice the opposite of such negativity—virtue! I will arouse diligence so intense that it is as though my hair or clothes are on fire, and I will apply myself to the ten virtuous actions, such as renouncing killing.”

The master Vasubandhu once wrote:

Because observable phenomena and so forth

Will be experienced, there are three definite types.

There are stories of evil people like Devadatta, Shasarakisha, Shridhara, and others [who committed such extremely negative acts] that they had conscious experiences of going to hell without leaving their bodies behind. Such evil people have created karma that is sure to bring them a rebirth in the lower realms.

Unless you are such a person, you should think, “Alas, to attain liberation and omniscience one needs to completely do away with the very roots of such nonvirtue, but if I think about it, in this lifetime alone I have consciously amassed so much negativity.

And this doesn’t reflect even a fraction of what I’ve accumulated in my previous lives! It’s only logical that I’ve amassed an inconceivable amount of negativity for the sake of my friends, students, subjects, community, and so on. What’s more, the results of these acts will be experienced by me alone; these acts that I’ve consciously committed cannot be shared with anyone else.”

On this point, Master Nagarjuna explains:

Do not commit negative actions for Brahmins, monks, gods,

Guests, your parents, queens, or companions—

For there will be no one with whom to share the result

When it ripens as a rebirth in hell.

That being so, you may think to yourself, “Oh no, not me! Not me! It looks like once I pass away, I’ll have no choice but to endure the lower realms!” Inevitably, you will sink into despair, and it is at this moment that you will realize the implicit harm of karmic consequences.

Nowadays people merely pay lip service to virtue and nonvirtue without directly recognizing the most basic principles concerning what they should do and not do. In this sense, they are hardly better than barbarians. In truth, this is nothing more than a state of apathy.

Due to the kindness of our enlightened teachers, however, we now see that our actions and their results do not just disappear. How fortunate!

It isn’t enough, however, simply to see that and become fearful and withdrawn. With the four powers complete, you need to confess earnestly and restrain yourself, with a firm sense of regret for what you have done. You should then devote yourself to enlightened activities.

Our Teacher, with his great compassion and skillful methods, said that if you do not err in terms of what to do and not do, past negativity can be purified through earnest confession and self-restraint, even if one has engaged in extremely violent acts in the past, such as those with immediate retribution.

Letter to a Friend states:

One without conscience in the past

Who later on becomes conscientious

Is a thing of beauty, like the moon revealed by parting clouds,

As was Nanda, Angulimala, Darshaka, and Udayana.

The Buddha’s relative Nanda was extremely attached to his wife, Pundarika. To address the situation, the Thus-Gone skillfully led him both to a divine city and to hell. This tamed Nanda’s desire, and he eventually became a foe-destroyer.

Angulimala killed 999 people, and Ajatashatru killed his father, Bimbisara. Though they had committed acts of immediate retribution, they were purified through confession and restraint and both later attained the level of foe-destroyers.

Udayana killed his own mother, but from that moment on, he regretted what he had done and began to behave in a morally correct manner. He ended up being born in hell for as long as it takes to throw a silk ball; he later attained the level of a stream-enterer.

Accordingly, as soon as you recall such negative actions, you should cultivate a deep sense of regret and exert yourself in the methods of confession. This is a most profound point, so you should train in the recitation of the Sutra in Three Parts.

Furthermore, in the context of these instructions, failure to recognize the aforementioned ten nonvirtues and their corresponding results must be avoided. Whenever these come to mind, the antidote is to recite the Sutra in Three Parts while adhering to the vital points of the four powers.

Alternate meditating on these two practices over and over again. From now on, be mindful and aware of all nonvirtue, and crush any negative thoughts as soon as they arise.

In the context of the main practice, always follow the example set by Atisha Dipamkara: confess in the morning the negativity that you accumulate in the morning, and confess at bedtime the negativity that you accumulate in the afternoon. Don’t let negativity or downfalls stay with you for even a day!

Some people take this to mean that simply confessing in this manner is enough. With this understanding, they behave wantonly, with no sense of restraint when it comes to immoral behavior and nonvirtue. However, it is a grave mistake to think that merely reciting a few words of confession morning and night will suffice, for doing so will overwhelm the confession outlined above, in which one confesses with a remorseful attitude using the four powers.

It will also result in the instant degeneration of the mind-set of restraint, where one thinks: “I won’t do this again even if it costs me my life!” Hence, this is a misguided belief that eclipses all the infallible doctrines concerning the interdependence of actions and their results.

The terms and principles that have been presented thus far should be given serious consideration. If all worldly activities fail to repulse you, like food repulses someone with jaundice, what you have heard are just quotations and what you have read are just words. This will not allow your mind to reach the level of mastery.

The Great Master of Oddiyana said:

Seek out whatever Buddhist transmissions and teachings there are.

When you study the sacred Dharma, if you don’t use the right attitude

To grasp the terms and principles, it will be like pouring water

Onto an upside-down vessel: none will go inside.

When the anguish of samsara wells up, they won’t be of any benefit!

However wonderful worldly wealth may be, like a candle in the wind, a dew drop in summer, a flash of lightning in the sky, or last night’s dream, it is utterly impermanent and unreal. Hence, you should always stay in isolated places and cultivate a sense of disenchantment, trusting with all your heart that whatever you have will be enough.

Take refuge in the fact that you will be joyful when sick and happy when dying. Let people say what they will, as if they are talking about a corpse. Like a wandering leper, yearn to be totally on your own, without even song birds to keep you company. Occupy your mind with meditating on your enlightened guru’s instructions.

The Great Master of Oddiyana said:

This world is a land of sadness;

The wonderful joy and happiness of beings,

Like a dew drop in summer or wealth in a dream,

Is unreal and swiftly gone.

From such things come distorted desires and carelessness.

So always cultivate a disenchanted frame of mind.

Those who hold worldly splendor in great esteem

Are of a class with inferior merit.

Your heart, like a rotten tree,

Will never bear the fruit of liberation.

Alas, how sad! The mind that thinks of the wealth

And prosperity of this life as wonderful and lasting,

The mind that thinks it to be stable and excellent,

Belongs to the most base of all immature beings!

Who in this world could be more foolish than that?

No one in the past and no one in the future!

Steps to the Great Perfection

The Mind-Training Tradition of the Dzogchen Masters

Jigme Lingpa

SNOW LION BOULDER

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argumentl · 3 years

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The Freedom of Expression Ep 16 - UFO expert's recommendation as the Japan Air Self Defense Force sets up Space Operations Squadron.

K: Hi, this is Dir en grey's Kaoru, starting this week's installment of The Freedom of Expression. Joe san, Tasai san, welcome.

J: You looked at us the opposite way then.

K: I did (laughs)

J: I don't mind though.

K: Hahaha.

J: Im sorry to be so pedantic.

K: No, i thought the same myself.

J: I just wondered whether you'd forgotten our names, or whether you were a bit tired.

T: He's probably tired.

J: I was a bit concerned *laughs*

K: You got me.

J: I just noticed it, so..

K: How have you been recently?

J: Well, how? hmm, well..

K: Its still around the middle of April now, as we record this, right? The shops are starting to open again. We are still in...what was it, a state of emergency..

J: It hasn't been lifted in Tokyo.

K: But the stores are slowly starting to operate again if you look around. Ramen places are really busy and such. But, how has it been for you guys?

J: Well, ive been cooking for myself as much as possible. Buying stuff from the grocers, and making salad and stuff every day. I don't have a frying pan though.

T: You don't have a frying pan??

J: No.

K: Do you have a microwave?

J: I do have a microwave. But a frying pan...well, recently, i bought some eggs, and tried to make fried eggs, but i had to cook them in a steel pan.*T laughing a lot* And when I tried to scrape them out, the yolk got destroyed. *K laughs* It was chaos.

T: How have you survived this far in life?

J: No, I mean I usually eat out, so this is a first for me at 52 years old, this self catering lifestyle.

T: I have a special pan for cooking eggs, its designed especially for eggs (tamagoyaki).

J: Really?

K: Oh, that square type?

T: Yeah, yeah.

K: Ehh!

J: Really?

T: I keep it really clean, and make sure I don't use it for anything other than eggs.

K: Oh, so do you cook a lot?

T: I do, yeah.

J: Kaoru, can you cook?

K: Do I look like I can? *laughs*

J: You don't, you don't. *everyone laughs loudly* You don't at all, sorry.

K: I can manage fried vegetables and stuff like that.

J: Oh, well, you are probably better than me then.

K: But honestly, I havn't cooked anything in years.

T: *To J* If you say he's better than you, that puts you at a super low level! *K laughs*

J: Well, now you mention it, maybe we are about the same level.

K: A long time ago, when I first came to Tokyo, I made curry once.

J, T: Oohh?!

K: Yeah..And with curry, if you let it sit for one night, its supposed to taste better the next day.

J: Yeah, the flavour deepens.

K: When I checked on it the next day, it had grown mould. *the others laugh a lot*

T: How?

K: I don't know.

J: What did you put in it?

K: Just the normal stuff...curry cubes and stuff.

T: It grew mould after a day...?

K: It did, yeah.

J: Ehhh? By the way, did you eat any of it on the day you made it?

K: No, because I thought it would taste better after leaving it for a day. Also, it was actually kind of watery. Maybe I got the measurements wrong. So I thought if I leave it for a day, it would thicken up, but it grew mould.

J: *laughing* Wow. If you cooked it properly, it wouldn't grow mould unless there was something wrong with it though, would it?

T: Yeah, exactly.

J: Thats incredible.

T: Yeah, were you living somewhere funny?

K: Haha, the place?

J: Lets do this sometime. Lets have a curry party with Kaoru making the curry.

T: Oh, yeah.

K: Um, in my blog magazine TheTheDay, I appealed for ideas of what people want me to do, and people said they want me to cook.

J, T: Ehhh.

J: Will you do it? Get your revenge?

K: Revenge? *laughs*

J: Curry revenge. We'd have to have a doctor on stand-by though. *K laughs* We'd end up with curry poisoning. Everyone who ate it would collapse one by one.

K: It would be dangerous.

J: It would, it would.

K: Okay, so today...Tasai san.

T: Yes, so..uh..finally we've reached this era! Finally!

J: What is it? What happened?

T: Well, uh, on May 18th, for the first time, the Japan Air Self Defense Force (JASDF) started a specialist division to monitor regions in space, the Space Operations Squadron.

J: At last!

T: Its like Space Battleship Yamato, its as if that kind of old sci-fi is finally becoming real in this current Reiwa era. Well, actually, its not really like Yamato. What they are really doing is keeping an eye on space junk, and watching for any suspicious looking man-made satellites. To begin with they will ????*1, and by 2026, they say they want to put thier own satellites into orbit too. Its true that America, Russia, and China are leaders in this field, but its like Japan has also started to think about self defence in terms of space too.

J: I see. This is quite serious news then, isn't it.

T: Well, Tokyo sports always has a different take.

J, K: *laugh*

J: Of course.

T: So, in response to the inauguration of this devision, a UFO expert had one thing he wanted to say, which was...well, there is the 'scramble', yes? A kind of emergency take-off, if for example, missles are heading towards domestic land, or if mysterious sightings*2 happen, there is stuff like this. And in 2018, the JASDF actually had 999 scrambles, where they saw something they thought was dangerous, and had to take off immediately. So, of those, 638 cases involved Chinese vessels, 340 cases involved Russian, and 18 cases were classed as 'other'. This UFO expert thinks these might be UFOs, so with the creation of this new devision, he says they could check to see if they actually are UFOs.

J: By the way, what is the Japanese government's stance on the existence of UFOs? It seems like America already thinks they exist, and are taking some action, right?

K: There is a lot of???*4

J: Yeh, on the news. I havn't watched it properly, but what do they think again?

T: ????

K:????

J????*5

T: The Japanese government hasn't clearly confimed whether or not they think UFOs are real or not.

J: Hmm, Kaoru what do you think? Do UFOs exist or don't they?

K: Well, I want them to exist. I like reading about them.

J: Well, its fun isn't it?

T: While I've been working at Tokyo Sports, we've had quite a few reports on photos people have taken of UFOs. Um, you know Hyper media creator Takashiro Tsuyoshi..?

J: Ahh, Takashiro san.

T: When he reported...where was it Australia, Byron Bay..or something. He went there for a festival, and he showed me a photo of a UFO that he took while he was there. And there really was a kind of triangle shaped UFO looking thing on it. And when he showed it to an expert, they said after about 2 seconds, 'Ah, yes, this is a UFO', without even checking properly. *the others laugh*.

J: You'd want them to analyze it a bit more

K: It seems too easy, right? Like, ah, yeh yeh.

T: Yeh, thats a UFO..

J: Saying its a UFO that quickly...

T: According to this expert, if you see a UFO, a big change will happen in your life....and then straight after that he ????*6 and stuff like that happened...Also, the former actress, who turned to that religious cult..

J: Oh, the Happy Science cult.

T: Yeh, Sengen Yoshiko. She captured footage of a UFO in Toyama, and showed it to me, so I kind of think they are real.

J: Have either of you ever seen a UFO yourselves?

K: I've seen things where I've thought, what is that?!. Like...*imitates zig zag movement in the sky*

T: There is something isn't there.

J: There are things that move like that, aren't there. They are different from shooting stars, and airplanes couldn't move in that way. I've wondered what they are.

K: And when you try to catch it on your smartphone or something, you can't, can you?

T: I just remembered! I did catch a UFO on my smartphone. I went to Mexico once to do a story.

K: Didn't you mention that before?

T: Oh, maybe I did, on the radio. Well, when i was in Mexico, what is it..when the sun takes a long time..

J: The summer solstice?

T: Yeh, on that day, we climed to the top of a big rock, and held hands with all the local people. At that time we took loads of photos of the sky, and when we checked later, they showed a UFO.

J,K: Ehh?

T: Yeh, and I don't know the first thing about it. Im in the club of people who've photographed a UFO.

J: A UFO was close to you....Isn't this the right time for him to come out? That guy?

Kami:.....

K: He's not coming.

Kami: Um..

J: He's here, he's here.

Kami: We're talking about UFOs right? When I saw that the JASDF had started a space army, I was excited. And when I wondered what they would get up to, it said they would be picking up space junk..

T: *laughs*

Kami: Its like when we lost at the world cup, and picked up all the garbage, then went home. So I was a bit shocked at what was written.

K: But thats just the starting point, right?

T: Yeah, starting with the little things, moving steadily.

J: But, hey, while they say that, they might be carrying out some bigger project behind the scenes.

K: Well, yeah.

T: Thats right.

J: Kami, what do you think about UFOs?

Kami: I've never seen one.

J: Oh, you havn't?

K: But from your perspective, do UFOs exist?

Kami: Do they exist?...Im not sure.

K:.*laughs*

J: He's not very articulate, is he? This is different from when he was talking about mahjong!

K: *laughs*

J: He never stopped when he was talking about mahjong. Losing 30,000 and such. Coming into Tasai san's conversation that much..He's changed completey since last time. A poor response, Kami. Hey, but what is it?...Can't gods transcend space-time?

Kami: Im not sure.

J: Wait, you're not sure?

Kami: Space-time? Well, I can't talk about it, cause I'll get into trouble if I do.

J: Ah, if you tell us?

K: *laughs*

T: Is this a new organisation?

K: An organisation, right?

J: Gods have them too.

K: They probably have unions, right?

Kami: Yes, yes. *K laughs*

T: Someone more powerful than Kami will be onto him.

K: Yeah, he'll be stopped.

Kami: But the gods know this, theres nothing faster than light, right?

J, T: Ahh

Kami: Did you know that?

J: Yes, I did.

Kami: Yeah, thats it. Theres nothing faster than light, yeh. Thats the thing. Do you know who decided that? It was a god.

J: Ohh.

T, K: Eh?

Kami: Not me, one of my distant relatives.

J: Distant relatives? *laughs* One of the gods in the group?

K: It wasn't himself, but..

Kami: Yes, thats it.

J: Hang on, wait a minute, so in terms of what we are talking about, Kami, what did YOU create? Gods make many different things I think.

Kami: I make parts in a factory. *J, K laugh*.

T: What? The old guy in a backstreet workshop?

K: *laughs* He's the type who can descend to earth very easily, right?

J: He really is one of the commoners.*laughs* Its funny.

Kami: Its because Im an ally of the common people.

K: Well, yeh, it seems like he often goes to Chinese restaurants..

J: Right.

T: And he likes Mahjong

K: Yeh, he likes Mahjong.

J: He's kinda just like my Dad.

K: *laughs*

J: Ah, but UFOs, right?

K: It would be good if they develop this.

T: There might be things like space wars in the future, in reality. With America and such. If they are competing for supremacy in space.

K: Ah, yeh, fighting for supremacy.

T: Right?

J: But Japan is a little late getting started, in relation to that.

K: Oh yeh, its impossible.

J: Right? We wouldn't ever take supremacy.

T: Well Japan can already be seen from anywhere by spy satellites, they'd get all our info.

J: Well, thats it. That kind of thing is going on at the same time.

K: Well, thats just how it is.

J: Thats how it is, right?

T: Thanks for listening.

J: This was a spaced themed chat.

K: Please look forward to next week, thank you very much. Please subscribe.

J,T, Kami: Please do.

*1,3,4,5 Couldn't catch these bits.

*2 mysterious sightings...or something like it.

*6 Sounded like, 'he got divorced', but i couldn't distinguish it clearly enough.

#dir en grey #the freedom of expression #tfoe #薫 #kaoru

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bookworm-2692 · 4 years

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About a week ago I finally finished bookbinding @airdeari‘s beautiful Zero Escape fic The First Nonary Game. It took about a month (between all the waiting for glue to dry and also several days each week when I was unable to work on it), and was so much fun! It’s so satisfying to just... hold this book in my hands.

Details about how I made it, along with additional photos (and commentary) below the cut.

So I came across this post on Tumblr, which immediately inspired me to try bookbinding myself. I spent a few days watching so many tutorials from the youtube channel linked in the post (I’ll link the specific tutorials I used in this post), and googling how to actually manage to print pages so they form proper signatures, because the inbuilt booklet creator in Word doesn’t exist in my Word apparently so that’s fun.

Anyway, once I started, I asked @airdeari for permission to print and bind his fic, and he immediately said yes, so that was good. Then I spent a good couple of days copying the entire fic into a Word document, and fiddling with formatting so it would look like an actual book (section breaks, page numbers, headers with the fic title on the left page and chapter title on the right page (this took ages to work and I kept on stuffing it up), and making sure things just... looked nice. I added in the art After The War that @keycrash created specifically for the fic (third pic above), and an “afterword” containing credit and links and the author’s notes from AO3 (because even if I’m the only one who will ever see it, it still feels weird to not add the credit stuff in so it’s there).

I then saved the document as a PDF, and used CheapImposter to correctly shuffle (impose, hence “imposter”) the pages so when folded into signatures, each page would be in the correct order. This program was the first free one I could find, and was great because you could specify the number of sheets you want per signature, rather than stuck with a default. I chose to have 11 signatures of 6 sheets of paper, since that was the amount that would have the least blank pages and the end of the book. The file was 261 pages, so with two pages per side, and two sides per sheet, you divide the number of pages by 4 to get 66 sheets of paper

I then printed. There was only one (1) paper jam in the process, which was great. Unfortunately, I realised after I printed that one of the headers for one chapter was wrong (I hadn’t properly disconnected the two chapters), but fortunately that only involved reprinting 4 sheets of paper.

I used the following tutorials to make the books: DIY Textblock, a general “how to make a textblock” tutorial; DIY Kettle Stitch, a specific look at the stitching for a textblock, since the first tutorial doesn’t focus on this; DIY Book Cloth, since I chose to use fabric for my cover; and DIY Hardcover Book, how to put all those pieces together.

So then I started folding all the signatures. I was watching so much Brooklyn Nine-Nine during both the folding and stitching sections, since it was repetitive actions I didn’t need to concentrate on that lasted hours.

It was at this point that I sliced each signature one by one to make the end smoother and less pointy. In future I recommend not doing it at this point - wait until the very end. Instead, move straight onto stitching.

I don’t have any photos of the stitching portion, since my phone died the morning I started the stitching, and I wasn’t able to replace it until after all the stitching was done. In fact, originally all the photos from before the stitching were lost too. It was only about two days ago that magically the My Photo Stream thing kicked in and brought back all the photos - if it had worked two weeks earlier I would’ve had more. As it is, all photos from September to January are gone forever, unfortunately. But that’s another discussion entirely.

The above is the first book photo on my new phone, so as you can see, all the stitching was completed, the spine was glued, and the purple paper attached. I couldn’t buy two A4 sheets, so instead I had to buy one A3 sheet and cut it in half. Which was difficult cycling home from the city with an A3 sheet that didn’t fit in my bag on account of being A3 and not A4, but oh well.

I don’t have a book press, so I used a pile of DND books and my brother’s weights instead, as shown below.

I then had to re-slice the book after this point bc my first go wasn’t even, on account of slicing each signature separately. Next time definitely I’ll just do it at the end like this. I then also sanded it to make it smoother. It’s still not perfect, but it’s something that’ll take practice and patience so.

Next I made the book cloth, which involves using appliqué sheets to combine cotton fabric and tissue paper. But first I want to talk about the fabric I chose for the cover, because I’m quite proud of it. I spent ages wandering around the shop, trying to find something that fit the feel of the book. Spoilers for the content of the fic if you haven’t read it yet, and also for the source material (999/Zero Escape). I was thinking about some sort of blue swirl thing, because of the Gigantic sinking. I found that, but hesitated because it didn’t fully fit, and my favourite colour is blue so I always pick blue. I also considered flames/fire because of the incinerator thing, but couldn’t find any. I can’t remember if I just couldn’t find any four leaf clover fabric, or if I’ve just since thought about that as a cover. But instead I chose the butterflies below. They fit in several subtle ways that I’m proud of. The colours of blue and pink(/red) matching the receiver and transmitter coding all throughout 999, as well as the moments of purple as well (I don’t think I need to get into that, I’m sure it was analysed to hell and back when the game first came out). The butterflies also point towards the butterfly effect, and in turn the different timelines present in the series. So together it just works. /spoilers over

It’s also just a pretty fabric.

Now the making of the book cloth. I had to make it twice, because I was too impatient the first time, so the iron was too hot and it steamed, which wrinkled and warped the tissue paper, so the fabric was all wrinkly too. The second time took ages and was a worse quality appliqué sheet, but worked well enough anyway.

(My parents: did you have the iron out? what were you ironing? you never iron)

And then I cut the book board to size, using the measurements from the tutorial video. I’ll repeat them here: front and back cover: width = width of textblock minus 3mm, and height = height of textblock plus 6mm, and spine width = width of textblock spine, spine height = same height as covers

I then glued the board onto the book cloth, and put it under the book press. The dnd books are not large enough to cover the whole thing, and also I really wanted the board to stay flat and not curl, so I grabbed way more dnd books and way more of my brother’s weights. I also accidentally started putting the glue on the wrong side of the board (bc one side is smooth and the other is rough), hence the colour difference as well.

The corners were cut and folded and glued over...

And then the textblock was glued in, and put in my book press for a whole weekend. I added a sheet of paper to absorb the glue so the pages wouldn’t become wrinkly, but instead the sheet I added was fine and every other page in the book is wrinkly. So I dunno what happened there. After the weekend I took it out and looked at it, and then put it back for another week to be sure.

And then the complete book is shown at the top of the post!

As I was starting I was talking a lot about it, like about the process I had to go through, or how I was going to obtain what I needed, etc. Mum asked if she could read the story. I froze, like a deer in the headlights... because this is a fanfic. She saw my fear and immediately backed down, explaining she only wanted to read it because if the story was that important to me that I was going to literally turn it into a book, she wanted to read it to yknow like know me better or something? Which makes sense. And when I got over my initial reaction, and remembered that indeed it was technically my dad who introduced me to fanfic, and thought about it more, I said okay. Because since the fic is technically a prequel to the first game, and most of the characters are technically OC’s (like, from the first game we know that all eighteen children must exist, but most of them don’t have names or anything so they are effectively OC’s), then knowledge of source material isn’t strictly necessary. This fic can probably be enjoyed on its own. I mean I’ll probably have to explain the concept of morphogenetic fields, and the last four chapters might not make sense? But I’m okay for my mum to read it. So when she’s less busy at work I’m going to download the epub onto her phone for her - we’ll see how it goes.

Anyway, this fic is a masterpiece, extremely well written and I highly recommend it. As said, most of the characters are effectively OC’s, and yet they are all given such rich histories and personalities. All of them have access to the morphogenetic field, so I’m just so glad that @airdeari explores nine unique relationships with the field - nine unique sibling dynamics, and esper powers and abilities. It’s just so good.

#bookbinding #zero escape #999 spoilers #999 #the first nonary game #airdeari #i forgot to mention the most essential step of making the book #before i printed the pages i read the entire fic again through word #its still so beautiful #i cant wait for my first read of the fic using my physical book #if youre in the ze fandom and still have not come across this fic yet #first of all who are you and what rock have you been living under #and second of all please read this fic bc its anything and everything you could ever want from a fng fic #feel free to ask more about this and what i did btw #it was so fun binding this book #i want to do more of my fav fics now haha #this fic is 100k and it was like the perfect size for a fic to print #most of the other fics i really like are much much longer so i'd probably have to split them in half #and idk if i could do that #too much pressure to split between the right chapters #oh well uni has started so i have a while to think about which one to do next #ive already promised a version of this fic for a friend who wants to draw her own cover #so we'll see how that goes!

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #327

starting to run outta steam... haha.

What design is on your shower curtain? It doesn't have one. Did you get in trouble for cussing on accident when you were a kid? Ha ha yeah, for yelling "HOLY SHIT!" once, lmao. Ever made a snow angel? Yeah. Do you laugh at racial jokes? Absolutley not. What’s the highest you can count in a different language? 999, in German. How’s your flirting skills? I wouldn't know, ask those I've flirted with. Have you ever cried over a breakup? For a whole year and then some. I still have episodes. What does your dream life look like? Living isolated in the woods by a river and waterfall with a fantastic spouse, me being a very successful photographer and at least somewhat above *just* financially "stable," maybe having at least one poem published, lots of pets (mostly snakes), plenty of travel opportunities (mostly for photography), being free of my social anxiety and actually being reasonably confident, back in great physical shape... I'm really daydreaming now. What’s something you wish would happen, but know won’t? bleh Where did you meet your current or last significant other? YouTube, back when it was a much more social platform. Do you enjoy wine? No, it's way too bitter. What did you last ask your parents permission for? I asked Mom if I could snack on some chocolate chips she was saving for fudge (since Christmastime...). She was fine with it. Periods are fun. Do you get annoyed when you hear babies crying? I shouldn't, but I do. Me and babies just don't mix. Why were you in a waiting room the last time? I was at a doctor's appointment. What’s your lawyer’s name? I don’t have one. Do you own a lot of scarves? I don't think I own any... Would you ever get a face tattoo? I doubt it, but maybe something very small and subtle. Are your expecting anything in the mail? No. What would you like to see out of your window everyday instead of what you see now? Nature. The woods. Would you rather have a house exterior made from wood, brick, or stucco? Aesthetically, wood, but I don't support the continuation of wood housing in a society where we have many other options that don't harm the environment as much. So, realistically, brick. What is your favorite breakfast? Cinnamon rolls. Do you own a diamond ring? No. Have you ever stripped? No. Do you remember the last movie you saw while on a date? IT with Girt. Whose house did you last sleep over at? Sara's. Yes or no: foreplay? Lmao who the fuck does it w/o foreplay first. Would you ever record you having sex? No fucking way. Something nobody’d ever guess about you? I used to be in great shape. Would you like to be a journalist? I actually wouldn't mind it. It was almost my minor the last time I was in college, actually, but the required courses were a no-no for me. Last year for school, we had an assignment where we had to choose a popular song to write a story based on. What song would you’ve picked? I don't know popular songs, so I'm picking any song. Off the top of my head, given my love for dark and morbid shit, maybe "Voyeur" by Otep. That song is messed up as fuck. No, it's actually not about sex, 'cuz I ain't interested in writing about that. Did the vacuum scare you as a child? I don't think it did. Do you have a long driveway? No, it's actually very short. Have you ever begged someone to stay with you? Oh yes. Are you friends with anyone missing one of their five senses? Not to my knowledge. Are you good at Pac Man? I'm no better than anyone else. Do you have an embarrassing period story? If so, what is it? No. Have you ever gotten high off a prescription medication? No. Do you prefer tampons or pads? Tampons. Pads are mega uncomf. How old were you when your parents talked to you about puberty? I don't know, actually. What stereotype do you fit the most? Geek, maybe? Emo? Idk. If you’re a worshipper, how do you worship? I don't worship anything. What’s your favorite pain reliever? Advil. Do you have a lot of people blocked on Facebook? Not a lot, no. Does your father have facial hair? Yes. Have you ever had a hamster? Yeah, we went through a few. All of 'em were evil. Grape or strawberry jelly? Absolutely grape. What language would you most like to know fluently? German. Do you remember the last song you slow danced to? "Stairway to Heaven" by Led Zeppelin. Do you plan on having alcohol at your wedding? I don't know. Do you have an idea of who you might kiss next? I know who I WANT to kiss next, but that doesn't mean it'll happen. I hate psychic questions. Who’s the most controlling person you know? She's not in my life anymore. Do you own a microphone? No. Do you enjoy trailers at the cinema? I do. Name a pet you definitely wouldn’t want. A centipede, to name one. I've gotten more into the idea of owning invertebrates, and centipedes are in that hobby, but they creep me the fuck out. They're cool to watch, but I don't want one in my house. Do you have a picture of you throwing up the peace sign? Yeah, it's actually one of my favorite pictures of me without makeup. Has a very "me" vibe. Do you enjoy romantic movies, even when they’re cliche? Ha, yeah. Can you tell the difference between a Scottish and an Irish accent? Nope. Can you read music? Probably not anymore. Ever sang someone to sleep? No. What is the movie that you have waited the longest for/which film do you remember anticipating the most/are still anticipating? Finding Dory takes the cake. What is something that an interested guy/girl could comment about you, that would make you instantly open to them (e.g., “That book you’re reading is from my favorite author”)? If you compliment my Markiplier tattoo because you get it, we are immediately family. Out of all your usernames for websites, which one is your favorite? Do you use it for more than one site? Ozzkat. I use it essentially everywhere. Have you ever spent the whole day (or multiple days) just looking up one thing on the internet (e.g., videos of your favorite band, how-to videos, quizzes, etc.)? HA, way more than once. Hyperfixation is a friend of mine. Bow ties on guys, dorky or adorable? C U T E ! ! ! What are your thoughts on mini-skirts or mini-dresses? ALSO C U T E ! ! ! Have you ever died in one of your dreams? Yes. What appliance in your kitchen do you use the most often? The microwave. Do you use Skype to talk to your friends? Sara, yes. And Sam once in a blue moon if we're playing WoW together. Are you allergic to any animals? No. Have you ever had to go to the police department? No. Have you ever been called bipolar? Well yes, because I am. Have you ever made fun of a handicapped person? Hell no, and fuck you if you ever have. If a necklace/ring gives you green marks, do you still wear it? No. Have you ever had food poisoning? I don't think so, no. Favorite emoticon? Probably c: Do any emoticons annoy you? No, but an excessive amount of them I find disruptive to whatever I'm reading. Do you think there will be a WWIII? Yup, someday. Has anyone ever asked you if you were emo? Yeah, back in high school. The most interesting thing that’s ever happened to you at a grocery store? I dunno. Probably running into someone unexpected. Do you have any good book ideas? Having written RP since I was 10 years old... I could by now write a dozen dictionary-sized novels encompassing what I think are the greatest storylines. I genuinely do believe there's some fantastic stuff we've got, but there's just too many horribly dark and twisted parts in the evil mobs that I am not comfortable publishing. Are you gonna see Cars 2? Well, this is old. I never even saw the first one. In all honesty, can a person be too nice? Yep. *points at Weed from GDW* Have you ever posted a video onto YouTube? Yeah, mostly "meerkat music videos," I guess you could say. Some tributes to certain MM characters, others just music with meerkat clips. How often do you compliment other people? I try to any time I have a sincere one. I am very much for complimenting people openly and often. The Legend of Zelda series: Twilight Princess or Ocarina of Time? I'm not a fan of the franchise, honestly. Never got the hype. Do you even game at all? Most certainly, but not nearly as much as I used to... You can only replay old games but so many times before you just can't anymore. And the "newest" console I have is the original Wii, so... I definitely don't have the modern equipment. Would you give Zumba dance lessons a try if presented the opportunity? Probably not. Definitely not while my legs are in such bad shape; the dancing is pretty intense and would seriously hurt. I could easily imagine myself fainting. Do you own a rosary? No, but I did in my Catholic-raised childhood. Do you like Adult Swim? No. Sorry excuses for humor everywhere. What’s the first thing you do when you get on the computer? Do a quick check on KM just to ensure everything's in order. What’s one thing that you just wish you could do all of your life? Not have to pay bills, haha. If someone asks for your honest opinion, do you give it? Yes, if they emphasize they really want honesty. When was the last time you felt uninformed or out of the loop? Apparently some politician (I think) died recently and people practically rejoiced on Facebook. I knew zip about him. When in a car, where do you like to sit? Passenger seat/shotgun. Have you ever fought with a good friend over something completely stupid? Oh, absolutely. There have been plenty of RP-related arguments with multiple people... In the big picture, it's laughable to fight over a game, but when you're so invested in your own creations, in the moment, it can seem like a big issue. Those drama days are long behind me now. Would you ever visit a third-world country? I don't think so, no. It would shatter my heart, especially seeing children in poverty. Are you the type that’s too ashamed to ask for or use directions? No. You overhear two people gossiping about you; what do you do? Probably call over something like, "I'm not deaf, you know." I highly doubt I'd sit there with my mouth shut. Have you ever felt manipulated? Yes. If you were homeless, how would you cope? If I was truly, entirely homeless, quite honestly, I'm almost positive I'd kill myself. Have you ever done something just to fit in? Yeah. When was the last time you tried to impress someone, for whatever reason? I'm not sure, but I've certainly done it at one point or another. Do you think that the world could function in a state of anarchy? Definitely not. How well do you know your U.S. [or your country’s] history? I mean, I know the bare bones of it, but I'm far from well-versed in history. It was one of my weak subjects in school. Would you ever wish to move to another country? I'm not kidding when I say if it weren't for family, I would probably move to Canada. What is something that you do that others might consider “nerdy”? The way I write, particularly for academic purposes. I'm very descriptive and have an exceptionally large vocabulary. Have you ever had anything expensive stolen from you? Not from me specifically, but our basketball hoop was stolen from my childhood home. I doubt it was very cheap. Do you understand/notice when someone’s using sarcasm? Usually, anyway. When was the last time you were fooled? HAHA there was this drama video suggested to me on YouTube that involved Mark in the title, and I was mega confused and inevitably clicked. Now it's basically a YouTube meme just how "perfect" Mark is, so there was no real drama; apparently some newer fans are just upset at him for playing the sequel to HuniePop, a very sexual puzzle/dating game that's honestly entertaining and can be really funny. Like... he's played the original and despite the discomfort of some scenes (which are censored, mind you), he still had fun, and it was a big hit on his channel. So him playing the sequel isn't surprising, but apparently some people got shit to say. What first Impression do you hope you make with other people? Something along the lines of "wow, she's very nice." Have you ever thought about how you make other people feel/think? Well of course. I think everyone should take time to consider this. What is your stance on getting revenge? A petty waste of time. Any wise/truthful/witty quotes that you live by? Ha, another Mark answer. He once gave the casual innuendo of, "Life's hard; shouldn't you be, too?" (this might have actually been in a HuniePop video!), but when you take the... uh... sexual theme out of it, it's a good way to look at life???? Have tough skin, unmoving willpower, y'know, that stuff. Who was the last person you sat beside at a restaurant? My sister Ashley. Spongebob or Patrick? Patrick is a whole-ass mood. Would you rather watch little kid’s cartoons, older kid’s cartoons, or adult cartoons? Hm. Probably little kid's, given my love for Pokemon. How about watching regular cartoons or anime? Anime. Who is the last person you spent money on? Myself. Do you own a copy of Roller Coaster Tycoon? No; I had SeaWold Tycoon instead. I loved that game. Do you have any birth marks in embarrassing places? No. Have you used Limewire before? Of course. Free music for the low price of a catastrophic virus. :^) When was the last time you required a band-aid? I think when I cut one of my toenails way too short. Are you afraid of snakes? Oh no! I adore them so, so very much. Not saying I'm gonna go scoop up the first copperhead I find herping or something, but I love and respect them so very much. They are such fascinating animals. If you believe in reincarnation, what animal would you want to become? I don't think I believe in reincarnation, but hypothetically, maybe a lioness. Who do you tell everything to? Pretty much whoever reads these surveys, haha. Did you have candles on your birthday cake? Not my most recent one. Exactly, how old are you? I just turned 25 years and one month old. Have you ever been bitten by anything? Besides bugs, I don't think so. I've had cats and dogs playfight with me, but none have ever seriously bitten me with actual effort. Do you wear hats? No. What was the last song you sang along to? "Lunchbox" by Marilyn Manson. Do you think you’ll be married in 5 years time? I'd like to be, but idk if it's realistic.

#survey #surveys #questions

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skelffricat · 3 years

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Uppa (Mother)Hoods

I have never given birth, yet I have made three children. At the cosy NCT* group in the Ormeau Library, where I went with my first child (when I managed to get up early enough) I felt ashamed of this. The mothers there were Proper Mothers, with scars in their vaginas; tits out for milking; organic rice cakes for snacks; and great pride in their beautiful birth stories. They were horrific to me (the stories, not the mothers). I couldn’t talk about my birth experience without crying. I even made my GP cry, telling her about it. My eldest was whisked out of my unconscious middle in a now-derelict hospital in South Wales, while my legs were stirruped up (I once made the mistake of visiting the Erotic Museum in Amsterdam- the Sex Museum is better- whilst very stoned. One tends to be stoned, in Amsterdam, I suppose. The floors were confusingly slanted, giving me a sinking feeling, and the top floor’s “sexy” scene was a hospital one. Mannequins in stirrups do NOT turn me on. I had to immediately leave. I may have wept.) There was a student in the hospital room, with horror on his young face, gawping between my legs, and a nurse was urging the doctor to wait for me to go fully under the anaesthetic before he sliced my layers open with the scalpel. My eldest’s father had already been bade to leave. I think he signed something as he left. Signed our lives away?

I learnt later, whilst perusing my eldest’s little red book**, that her lung had collapsed. (I asked why they hadn’t told me. Oh, but it’s fairly common, they said. One in ten thousand. Not worth mentioning, really. Wtf?!) She had pooed in my womb (how rude!) and inhaled some of her own meconium. Meconium. Meconium. I had already learnt that word as a teen, from the band James, in their brilliant song, Gold Mother.

Then I had three friends- well, six, really- who had had stillborn children, at full term, and stopped feeling ashamed of how my child had made her clumsy entrance to the world, and merely relieved that she was alive and kicking, and proud of her. The biggest, reddest, loudest, baby in SCBU***. (“How will I know which one is mine?” I had croaked. Then, it was so obvious, I’d laughed.) I can also feel smug about not pissing myself on trampolines, or every time I sneeze, like most of the women I know who’ve had natural births. Perhaps I’ll start an Unnatural Childbirth Trust. Do your pelvic floor exercises. Now.

TRIGGER WARNING: I am going to talk about teenage suicide.

Now my youngest child has died, by suicide, just short of her 15th birthday, and I try to feel relief that she is at peace, and that I got 15 glorious years with her. If I think about birthdays like the Chinese people do, I can call it 16****. Almost a woman.

I found her. She arranged that I would, I suppose because she thought I could cope with it better than her father could (she was right, of course. She was usually right. She was very wise. I miss her wisdom, and her unfailing ability to open any jar I couldn’t. She was strong.) I don’t know how to feel about that. People keep telling me that I’m strong, but it seems strangely shameful to be strong at this time (and I still can’t open jars). Perhaps the anti-depressants are working too well? I wonder. I worry that my blasé attitude to death made her decision easier (though I understand that it is pointless to worry about these things now. It won’t bring her back.) We tended to talk about death a lot. Some of my friends had died by suicide, and I would discuss with my mother, her granny, around the children, how suicide was no longer a shameful thing. How you shouldn’t say “committed” in front of it, because it hasn’t been a crime in the UK since 1961. It shouldn’t be a crime anywhere. We went to funerals in brightly coloured clothes. I celebrated dead people’s wonderful lives with them.

She was hanging from the trapeze I’d had built for her, in our quiet back garden, from a hammock that I had bought for her. I had wondered about the hammock being out there in winter, and thought it was tied in a funny way, a few days before, but not done anything about that. I try not to regret that either. My logic comforts me thus: at least these things could be taken from the garden, and destroyed (the hammock) or used again (the trapeze) and I didn’t have to cut down any trees. I said to myself- she would have done it anyway, somewhere else, at some time. She did it with her things. She used to do amazing things on them. She could soar and swoop gracefully from that trapeze, and even the hammock got strung up high and spun from.

I had been drinking the night before with my lovely Scottish lover. We watched Wild at Heart, and drank red wine. I thoroughly christened the new bright yellow carpet with a full glass of it, oops. Tried to clean it with a sock. My youngest child was baking in the kitchen. She made a vegan chocolate cake. At one point I went in to her and she was sat on the floor, looking at the cake in the oven. Her head was practically in there. When I was a child, we had electric, not gas, and I thought that people who killed themselves by putting their heads in the oven were cooking themselves to death. How did all the heat not escape, I wondered? How long would that take?! Those thoughts went through my head as I looked at her. She had attempted suicide before, around a month ago. We had been to the hospital. She convinced them (and me) that she wasn’t suicidal, and was sent home. I am not angry at this. What is the point in being angry? She is gone. She was a good actress. A cry for help? She had been to CAMHS that very day. I felt hopeful. She was making cake! She was going to try school tomorrow, in her own comfortable clothes. She hadn’t been for ages. She was too anxious, about uniform, about what to learn, about the future. I asked her what she was doing and we laughed about her proximity to the oven.

He and I ate the cake, later, with natural yoghurt. It was delicious. We called her to join us and she wouldn’t. The last time I saw my youngest daughter alive I was thinking about her killing herself, in a jocular way. Then she did. In a jugular way. Fuck, sorry. I find myself saying the most inappropriate things.

Sometimes I imagine her last breath. Or dream of disembodied heads. I wonder did she change her mind at the last minute, or feel resolute, and pleased with herself, her escape? Did she make a noise? Did she call out to me, to anyone? I guess you probably can’t call out...? At first, the shock was so severe, I couldn’t think about it without feeling a massive surge of pure panic. I saw my face in the mirror that morning, and it was ashen grey. Later, my eldest described the sensation as a perpetual feeling of dread. Impending doom. Yes, I said, like we’re waiting for something horrific to happen! Then we would realise it already had. My heart thumped so viciously hard inside of me, it felt like it was going to jump right out of my chest. Proving its aliveness. Until I calmed it with (mostly) legal drugs. In the next few weeks, I liked to listen to hearts beating, breath flowing. People being alive, alive- oh.

My lover had left that night, as he was to go on a walk early the next day. I am so relieved that he had. He has his own demons. He never went on that walk, of course, but at least he didn’t have to find her. He left at around 3am. Her bedroom door was closed.

I awoke just before 6am. I’m not sure why. I expect I needed water, because I’d been drinking wine. Her door was open. The light was on, and I could see her bed was empty. I got water, and went to her room and saw there was a note on the bed. It was written in green biro, on an A4 file page, folded twice. There was a little cheeky red smiley face with its tongue out on the outside. It was a suicide note. Full of love. Was it a suicide note? So much love. It can’t be a suicide note. I started to look for her, around the house. It was still very dark. I was switching on the light in a room and looking around it and switching the light off and looking in another room. I couldn’t find her. I looked in some rooms twice. I even opened the compartment under her bed. I looked in the cupboard under the stairs, like Harry Potter’s room, that she and her friend had once shut themselves into, to see each other’s glow-in-the-dark bicycle helmets. Where is she? I thought. This is the worst game of Hide-and-Go-Seek ever! Perhaps it’s not a suicide note. Perhaps she has run away? I got dressed.

Then I found her, in our dark and silent back garden. As she was on the far side of the trapeze to me, her feet were level with the safety mat under the trapeze. I thought for a second that she was just standing there, very still. I was still hoping it was all a joke. A mistake. One of our white garden chairs was beside her. When I realised she was hanging, I swung her slightly. This movement haunts me. Her face... her face was distorted. Her tongue lolling out. I hope you never have to see that on anyone. Especially not your child. My friend hanged herself years ago and my daughter’s face reminded me of her dead one. So, I was thinking, she is dead, in one layer of my mind, and in another, I was thinking, I shall save her. I was calling her, and caressing her freezing face. She was so cold. Dead cold. I ran into the kitchen, got a serrated knife. I am unsure of the order of things. Had I already phoned 999? Was I trying to talk on the phone whilst doing all of this? I cut rapidly through the hammock- it was easy. She flopped into the muck. It was so mucky. I was trying to pull her by the arms onto the trapeze mat, away from the cloying mud, but she was a dead weight. Dead dead dead. No help there. I couldn’t move her. She was so ungainly. I felt inept and weak. I tried to put her in the recovery position. Then I thought, oh wait, no, I need to do chest compressions- I can’t do that on a soft mat anyway. I kept dropping the phone in the mud, and the man on the end of the line was almost shouting at me.

I put her on her back and was doing chest compressions and he was asking, “is she breathing?”

She seemed to breathe when I pressed her. I thought, oh! She’s alive? I kept pressing, and dropping the phone in the mud, and I was all mucky too, and she wasn’t breathing- I was just pushing air through her- but I had a glimmer of hope, and the 999 man was counting with me through my mucky mobile phone, and I heard the ambulance coming, and I said to him, I have to let them in! and he said, NO! Keep pressing! I said, I have to, my garden is inaccessible, and I let them in. Two ambulances, filling my dark quiet street with noise and lights and hope.

They took over. They asked for towels to kneel on in the muck. I’d never thought of that- I got them, as quick as I could. I paced, and watched, and walked away then watched again, and the cat jumped and wheedled around everything. Did he see her die? I wondered? Why didn’t you come get me, cat, like Lassie, or Skippy, or fucking Flipper!? She must have shut the kitchen door and kept him away. They tried and tried, and I paced. They did the defibrillators. Then her breasts became visible and I baulked at the indignity of it, whilst knowing it was entirely necessary, and just... human. They did the adrenaline shots. Four of them, taking turns. Is there any hope? I asked one. Not really, he said. We’re trying because she is young. She’s been there a while. At least I could feel less guilty about getting dressed. I kept thinking, why did I get dressed? I got dressed to go find my dead daughter.

Was it starting to get light? It was going to be a beautiful morning, I thought, what a pity she can’t see it. I changed out of my mucky clothes. Layered up. It was so cold. There was time, while they tried to save her.

They tried for 20 minutes before they pronounced her dead. There was mud everywhere. They put the mucky towels in a shopping basket I had outside to light fires in. The ambulance people all told me they were very sorry for my loss.

I don’t like euphemisms for death.

Saying I’ve lost her implies I could find her again. I suppose I find her in my dreams. Though I dreamt of different, unknown, children last night. Two little mixed race boys that I was minding in the (huge dream version) of the Carnival Centre. They kept running away and messing about. At one point we were all on top of a huge concrete topped lift (elevator), that lurched away from beneath us so that we flew into the air. It was falling faster than us. How is that possible? We couldn’t catch up with gravity. Griefity? We weren’t falling fast enough. I keep dreaming of losing children. Not children dying. I dreamt I lost my son the other night too. He was led into a room I wasn’t allowed in. I could see him through the window of the door I couldn’t go through. Then he went out of my sight and I woke up, shaking, horrified.

I recently found my daughter alive again, in a dream. She was very wee- three or four. Before her first haircut. She was being really bold and naughty. She kept running away from me, and she had pooed herself a little, and was rubbing the poo on things, half on purpose. I was trying to catch her and clean her and her hands. We were on holiday? Maybe on a big ferry? I think we had to catch a flight. She had run into a swimming pool room and climbed into a pile of boxes and upset the boxes, and pulled another little girl on top of her and hurt her too. I was trying to pull them out, without hurting them, without losing my temper. I was really trying hard to keep my temper. I was thinking as I woke, if this keeps up, she'll be taken off me. It was so vivid that as I came to, I thought, I must text the Woodcarver; I must text my youngest daughter, to see if she's ok. It was quite a while before I awoke properly and thought, of course she's not ok, she's dead. She's already away. Then I got upset, and cried, but I was glad I got upset because I've been taking anti-depressants and not feeling anything much, so it was a relief to feel sad. I accidentally hadn't taken any for a couple of days at that point.

Saying she has passed annoys me more. Passed what? Her exams? Wind? (That’s always funny.) She has passed tense? She is past tense.

It wasn’t until she was pronounced officially dead that I phoned her father, the Woodcarver. I thought, there is no point in giving him false hope like mine. He made a loud guttural noise, like a wounded animal, on the other end of the line. It woke my son, who was staying with him. He thought his father was dying. Wrong relative.

It was a brightening cold morning by now. The police came. Her father came. He kicked the white chair she had used, and broke it. This satisfied and disturbed me in equal measure. He hit his head off the sink. I was frightened by him, despite the police presence. I was frightened for him.

The police were very kind. A man and a woman. The man was comfortingly camp. They had masks on. There’s a pandemic, it is said. They took their hats off, but left the masks on. No-one else really bothered with masks, for the next while. I was fascinated by the police officers’ dark green peaked hats- one for boys, and one for girls- on my kitchen table. I made myself tea and put sugar in it. I never take sugar in tea. I’d heard it was good for shock.

My dead daughter’s father’s brother came. He told me to phone my mum. I said I would wait until she normally got up. What is the sense of breaking your last peaceful night’s sleep early, to find out something that won’t be any less dreadful half an hour later? He had brought my son; my daughter’s father’s mother; my daughter’s father’s girlfriend. This is starting to read like Anna Burns’ The Milkman. My daughter’s grandma was also fascinated by the police officers’ hats. She said that one wanted mending, and she wished she had a needle and thread. I didn’t think to fetch her one. I asked if it is true that pregnant women are allowed to pee in police officers’ hats, but they hadn’t heard that before. I kept checking the time on my phone, every few minutes, and drinking sweet tea. I was waiting for the real morning to begin. Nothing has felt real ever since, though.

When I did ring my mother at 8am, she didn’t wake. My little brother did, though. He went and told her in person, and when she arrived, she was bawling, and had forgotten her glasses. She looked tiny. She was due to see everyone the next day. She had been quarantining as she was not long back from Spain. I deeply regret not bringing the children to wave at her in the garden. She hadn’t seen them for months.

We were flitting between my house and our friends’ house round the corner. My garden was now a crime scene. My daughter’s father didn’t like this. He wanted to hold her lifeless body’s hand. At that point, I thought I never wanted to see her lifeless body again, but I changed my mind a few days later, and that was alright. I saw her in her casket and her face looked... Dead, but not distorted any more. She looked peaceful, I suppose, and very beautiful, in a sad way. She was surrounded by toys, trinkets, food she loved. Dried mango. Finn and Jake. Her elder sister tucked her pride flag around her. She hadn’t seen her for ten months.

There were many people now, milling inside, and out in the sunshine, between the two houses. The neighbours were out and about, too. I had made horrendous phone calls to a workmate and a couple of friends and the word was spreading. I had phoned my eldest daughter in Wales. To spread the word. The bad word. The worst words. I have had Joshua Burnside’s song, The Good Word, in my head a lot, this last while.

“Last night I dreamed

We were running for our lives

From robots in the jungle

Helicopters in the sky

But the ground opened up and I

Couldn't save her

Couldn't save her again

Oh no

No sir

Not this time

Glory hallelujah.”

My lover came down and was of the utmost comfort to me. When the coroner had been and they were to take her away, the Woodcarver’s biggest brother- he that had been there first- came to me in the other house and asked did I want to say goodbye to her body? I said, no, I do not, that is not my daughter any more.

I sought comfort in words. We read poems on her bed.

Various people told us of a humanist celebrant. She offered to help us for free, and she did, and I am so grateful.

A friend gave me valium. At some point, someone went to the offy. More and more people came. The lovely camp police officer returned, with my daughter’s bank card, and people panicked, because of Covid, but he didn’t say anything. He only wanted to help.

The next while was a blur...

*National Childbirth Trust- it was the only secular one. I also enjoyed the ones in churches, with their cream teas, and knitted religious folks, trying not to try to convert you and yours. It perhaps could’ve been called the Natural Childbirth Trust, because they kept banging on about it...

**The NHS issue these red books as personal child health records.

***SCBU- the Special Care Baby Unit. They pronounced it Skiboo, in their lovely Welsh lilts. My doctor looked like a child. She had been working for 24 hours straight, and was still charming and kind.

****Age reckoning originated in China, where it's believed that a baby's age starts from its time in the mother's womb. The practice is also common in Korea, Japan, Taiwan, Hong Kong and Vietnam.

#suicide #scbu #nct #death #motherhood #uppahoods #teenagesuicide

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nonsensicalobsessions · 5 years

Text

Shattered

Tom was doing his level best not to be overcome with his irritability, but honestly, Cara was just being unreasonable now.

Granted, he was the one who had been irascible on their last video call, but he was tired. Cara was refusing to open up (as usual) and passing off her unwillingness to talk about whatever was bothering her as feeling unwell (far be it from him to be less than sympathetic about that time of the month but he had to drag even that much out of her, which was absurd).

Tom loved Cara. He did, and she knew it, and he knew she knew it. They had been together for over a year now. Everyone had predicted the relationship was doomed from the beginning, from Luke to Ben to even his own mother. Not because Cara was playing him for a fool, using him for her own advantage, hoping to further her own career. Cara was a successful woman in her own right, a freelance author whose short stories had won numerous awards and was published in a variety of publications around the world and in several languages. She now had two separate anthologies that enjoyed critical acclaim.

The problem, as they saw it, was that Cara was so quiet. They attributed it to almost painful shyness. They all said she would never be able to cope with the demands of Tom’s career, and she would ultimately crack under the pressure, and drag him down. When Ben spoke with Tom about it, he was gentle, but firm.

“Look, mate. Even if she was never to step foot with you on a red carpet, she would still have to be able to cope with the constant pressure of the media hounding your every move...and that would be unfair to you both. You deserve to be supported, Tom. I simply don’t see this relationship ending well. You need more than she can give. There is nothing wrong with that. It is unfair to ask her for more than she can give.”

Tom had just shaken his head. They didn’t know Cara like he did. They didn’t see the way she made him laugh until he was holding his sides, tears coming from his eyes and his face and abdominal muscles aching with joyful torment. They definitely didn’t see the passionate woman who could set him aflame with a single look, a touch. No one had ever affected him the way Cara did. She was beautiful and brilliant and sexy and maddening and yes sometimes there was friction between the two of them...

...like now...

Cara’s quietness wasn’t a figment of others’ imaginations. Tom knew it was due to her unhappy childhood (no, he amended, her abusive childhood, calling it anything less was a failure to acknowledge her bravery, her survival) which made her very slow to trust. He quickly learned she still feared angry voices, and sudden movements made her flinch. She couldn’t help it. It was part of her deeply ingrained survival mechanisms. Initially he was deeply saddened. Then he was frustrated, surely she must know by now he meant her no harm? Finally, he recognized they were simply reflexive, and did not take them personally, but tried to adapt his behaviors to keep his beloved more at peace.

It was her emotional barriers that gave him the most difficulty. There were so many things Cara struggled to share with him. Her love was not one of them, nor was her passion, but her fears, her insecurities, her pains, she kept under tight lock and key. Tom’s emotions were as free flowing as a river in flood. Cara could handle all that Tom flung at her, his joys, sorrows, even his angers, as rare as they were...but her inability to reciprocate was a constant sore spot.

Hence Tom’s current mood.

Yes. He was short with her. He was tired and wanted nothing more than return home to London and be done with this interminable press tour. His current film hadn’t even been released yet and he was already tired of promoting it, which was a bad sign. It wasn’t the work, he was simply exhausted, he had been pushing himself for years on end, and he was feeling like he was finally reaching the end of his tether. He needed a few weeks (months) to regain his usual joie de vivre.

He was missing Cara, badly.

When he contacted her, she was subdued. She listened to him vent about the usual mishaps and frustrations about being on tour, and responded lovingly, but Tom could sense she wasn’t fully engaged, and called her on it. She flushed, and apologized, simply saying that she wasn’t feeling her best. Tom had to badger her (so he felt) before she would admit she had cramps. At this admission, he had exploded.

“Cara, why do I have to pull every single thing out of you? Jesus, woman! If you’re on your period, all you have to do is say so...! Oh, God, and now you’re embarrassed? You think I don’t know what a period is, for Christ’s sake?”

“Tom, why are you yelling at me? All I said was...”

“It’s what you didn’t say, it’s what you never say!”

Predictably, she was silent for a few moments, before she sighed, “Tom, you are obviously upset, so I am trying to listen to you. Telling you I am feeling unwell, when there is nothing you can do about it, will not help you. I am doing my best, but you are still upset with me. I don’t know what the right thing to do is.”

Tom’s lips thinned in frustration. “Never mind...I’ll see you in a few days.”

He ended the call without the usual exchange of “I love you.” He felt guilty about this later, but he was so exasperated, after all.

Then, of all things, Cara pulled this unexpected tantrum. After the video call, she stopped responding to him. No texts, no emails. It was most unlike her, but considering how difficult it was to get her to be open when she was upset, Tom was not overly surprised. It was their first real fight, and it was when he was away in the bargain.

So unreasonable, though.

It tainted his happiness at his return home, knowing he was coming back to a row. He and Cara still lived separately, which niggled at the back of his head. Something kept him from asking her to move in with him, and he didn’t know what it was. Was it her reticence to open up to him? Was it her pride in having her own place, an overt symbol of her own success both personally and professionally? Was it something less attractive, like the fact her house was only two blocks away, allowing him to maintain his status quo just as he liked it, without having to adapt or change?

As he stalked towards her home, the last option began to feel more and more likely, even though he was still annoyed, and he tamped down his shame. Thoughts of the many times Cara stayed the night at his home when he was feeling ill, out of sorts, or otherwise in need vastly outweighed the times he slept in her bed for the night, even though it was just as comfortable...and yet he wondered why she might be slow to ask for assistance...

He resolved to do better even as he reminded himself the current grievance was his, and just, as he walked up to her gate, and unlatched it.

The first sign that things might not be as they appeared on the surface was the full mailbox, and papers still sitting on the front step. Her car was sitting on the drive. Once more, Tom dialed her number, and once more, it went straight to voicemail. He gritted his teeth as he tried texting her, with no reply.

“God damn it, Cara, this is so petty,” he hissed, even as he looked at the mail. True, sometimes she did get so caught up in her work that she forgot the world outside, but this would be a first...well, so be it. She drove him to it.

He used the key he knew she had hidden under a planter and let himself inside.

“Cara? Cara, it’s Tom...I know you’re here...it’s beneath you to keep ignoring me, you know...”

The house was utterly still, and silent. The very air felt stationary. Tom looked into the kitchen, and saw an empty glass tipped over on its side.

That was not normal.

“Cara? Cara, where are you? Are you all right?”

He looked around and then quickly went up the stairs, taking two at a time.

He headed straight for her bedroom, and the first thing he spotted her her phone, lying shattered on the floor by the side of her bed.

The second was Cara herself, lying in a fetal position in the center of it, covered in a mountain of duvets and blankets.

“Cara?”

He rushed to her, and saw her slowly open her eyes.

“Oh thank God, darling, you frightened me...”

Her voice was very, very soft. “Tom? Is it really you?”

Her response frightened him anew and he sat besides her to stroke her face, and almost recoiled. “Cara, you’re freezing...” He reached for her hand, which was, impossibly, even colder. Her face was almost grey, her lips had a bluish cast, and her eyes seemed hazy, as though she was fighting to focus on him. He fumbled for his mobile and immediately dialed 999. “I need an ambulance, right away...”

As soon as he gave her address, she sighed, “I was so hoping to see you again...”

He paused, sliding the phone away from his mouth. “Of course you were going to see me again, sweetheart, it was a little tiff, that’s all it was, and I was being a right tit...Yes, please God hurry, she’s frightfully pale, very disoriented, her skin is like ice...”

“Tom...” her voice was barely audible now. “Tom...I can’t...can’t breathe, Tom...”

He dropped the phone completely, one hand gripping hers tightly, the other cupping her face to force her to focus on his eyes. “Cara. Cara, look at me. Focus on me, love. That’s it...now, breathe with me...look at me, keep your eyes open, Cara, Cara, look at me...in...and out...that’s right...in...and out...Cara, open your eyes! In...and out...do you hear the sirens, love? Help is coming...in...and out...Cara, look at me...”

There was the crashing of the emergency responders, Tom quickly moved to the other side of the bed, grabbing his phone as the paramedics pulled the duvets and blankets away...and then he cried out at the unhappy discovery at what was underneath.

He sat right by her head in the ambulance, saying nothing, but kept his eyes locked on hers the entire way, stroking her hair. She was going to be fine, she had an oxygen mask on, the paramedics had already hung up a unit of blood, and clearly they knew what they were about. Cara never once closed her eyes, but looked at him the entire way.

“What? What do you mean, it’s too late, that’s absurd, you identified the problem, you’re replacing the blood lost, so why aren’t you prepping her for surgery to correct the issue?”

“Mr. Hiddleston, you aren’t listening to me. She has lost too much blood. She would never survive the surgery.”

“Then can’t you continue the transfusions until...”

“Her organs are already shutting down. I’m very sorry.”

“That’s not good enough! She was conscious when I got there, she was conscious all the way to the hospital...!”

“And quite frankly I don’t understand how she was. Mr. Hiddleston, you have to prepare yourself. She only has a short amount of time left. I suggest to pull yourself together so you can say your goodbyes to her.”

“No. No. This is not...” Tom stopped, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Is...is she in any pain?”

“We are keeping her as comfortable as we possibly can.”

“Does...does she know?” Tom’s voice was choked as the reality of the situation began to sink in...Cara hadn’t been ignoring him, she had been too ill to respond. He was castigating her all the while she was lying in her bed, under as many blankets as she could gather, undoubtedly thinking she was going to improve on her own until she realized she was getting beyond that, she reached for her phone and in her weakness, dropped it. Tom never once thought to send someone to check on her.

“Yes. Her first concern was for you. She seemed to have recognized the severity of her situation awhile ago. Is there anyone else we should contact?”

Tom didn’t answer, just left the so-called “Quiet Room” and headed straight for Cara.

She was propped at a slight angle, with an oxygen cannula and quiet heart rate monitor in the room. Her eyes were closed, but opened slightly when Tom entered.

“Cara.”

“Tom.”

He noticed she was shivering. He looked scornfully at the thin sheet and blanket she was covered with, of course she was shivering, lying on that wretched hospital mattress. He toed off his shoes, and lowered a side railing so he could slide onto it and gather her into his arms on the bed. She sighed in relief as the warmth of his embrace and body quickly eased the shuddering.

“There, now,” he murmured. She was still under the poor excuse of a blanket as he wrapped it snugly around her, but she was in her favorite position, with her head cradled in the crook of his shoulder and his arm around her, one of his legs wrapped about her body. “Better?”

She nodded. Tom noticed her chest was moving in shallow, rapid flutters, and she was almost gasping. He caressed her cheek. “Easy, Cara. I have you.”

He then kissed her temple and whispered, “I love you, so very much.”

Cara struggled to take a breath deep enough to say, “I’m so sorry, Tom.”

“Sorry? You have nothing to be sorry for...”

She shook her head feebly. “I had...a gift...to give you...”

“You already did. You always did...Cara, didn’t you know? Every day with you was a gift...no one’s ever made me happy like you do.” He stroked her hair and fiercely willed himself not to cry, to keep his voice tender and warm and steady.

A smile crossed her face even as her eyes began to droop. “Made...you...happy?”

“Darling, do you need to ask? After all the laughter, conversations, and the joy I found in your arms? Yes, sweetheart. You made me very happy.”

Her eyes opened suddenly and she spoke as clearly as she did the first day she met him. “I don’t want to leave you, Tom. I love you, with all my heart.”

“I don’t want you to go, Cara. I will always love you. Always.”

He could tell she used the last bit of energy, last bit of life, to speak to him so. He felt her sink into his arms, nestling her head into the nape of his neck as she had done so many times before, and relax. He rocked her gently, and spoke softly to her, “I love you, Cara. I’ve got you, darling. I love you so. Be at peace, sweetheart. You are loved. I have you, Cara, I have you.” His cadence never faltered even as the tears ran down his face, the dam broken.

He didn’t need to hear the heart monitor become silent to know when her heart stopped and his shattered. He knew when he was the only person left in the room.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston rpf #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston x oc #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston original character #tom hiddleston original female character #look Christine I did a thing #Nonsensical Writes

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mirkwoodshewolf · 4 years

Text

Time travel rescue pt.4; 11th Doctor x teen reader ft. Queen

*Author’s note*

Okay guys this is it, the last part that I’ve got for you all till I get around to writing pt.5. Now I’ve got my one and only final tomorrow so this will be my last update till this Friday and you’ll know then why exactly that is. Now for anyone out there that’s in my shoes with final exams, I wish you all the best of luck and I know you’ll KILL ‘EM. Kill ‘em Kill ‘em. Okay I hope you all enjoy this last part I’ve got for you all, enjoy my lovelies :)

NOT GIFS ARE NOT MINE. I’M USING THEM FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY CREDIT GOES TO THE OWNERS!

Taglist:

@psychosupernatural

@plethora-of-things

@ixchel-9275

@waddles03

@platawnic

@bensrhapsody

@queendeakyy

@kairosfreddie

@geek-and-proud

___________________________________________________

He smiled at me and knelt right down beside me still cradling Robert in his arms.

“Is he—okay?” I asked worriedly.

“Yeah he’s okay. Just a little frightened from that terrible fall, but he’s brave. Just like another human I know.” I sighed with relief and held my arms out for him. The Doctor immediately complied and handed me Robert and as he cooed and began to calm down, I rested my head gently on top of his.

“Oh thank god Robert. Thank god you’re safe.” I then looked up to the Doctor and said. “How did you find me?”

“Well—” but before he could answer, the front door opened and Veronica’s voice was heard.

“(Y/n) I’m ba—what the….(Y/n)!?” she then came running right up to the bedroom and when she saw us, she gasped as soon as she saw the crib overturned. “What the hell happened in here!?” she raced over to me and took Robert in her arms. “Are you okay? Oh god you’re covered in blood.”

“Veronica I’m fine and so is Robert.” She took her son out of my arms kissing his head repeatedly before turning to me. Just before she could blow her top, she must’ve seen the blood on me because she then cupped the side of my face as she looked me up and down.

“But you’re covered in blood!” she said worriedly.

“It’s alright Veronica, it’s not her own. She actually—” the Doctor began to speak but he was shut up by Veronica hitting him with her large purse, while she still held Robert in her arm.

“You creep! Back! Get back! Go on get back!” she exclaimed as she kept hitting the Doctor over his head forcing him towards the open closet.

With a final hit, the second he got inside she closed the door and not only locked it but placed a chair against the door handle.

“Police, police that’s it. I’ll call the police.”

“Wait no Veronica you don’t know the whole story!”

“Come with me.”

“Veronica!”

“No come with me!” she gripped my wrist but I tried to get free as she dragged me out of the room. “Come on, come on! They better get here as soon as possible, I won’t risk staying in that room with that creep there.”

“Veronica hold on that’s my—”

“(Y/n) not now!” she snapped as we finally arrived at the main lobby. She handed me Robert and the front desk man said.

“Ma’am are you alright, there’s been some calls of noise complaints.”

“An intruder broke into my room and nearly killed my husband’s friend and my baby. Call the police!” Veronica said as she slammed her hands on the front desk, her eyes frantic with worry.

“Veronica no! Please he’s not dangerous!”

“I don’t care what he is. Any man whose willing to attack someone with a baby is a psychopath! Now ring up the police right now!” the man behind the desk picked up the phone and dialed 999 for police assistance.

Oh god what have I done?

*3rd Person POV*

As the night went on by around 11:45pm, Brian, Deacy, Roger and Freddie arrived just a block away from Veronica’s hotel but they were shocked when they saw a police car parked out front.

“What the hell is this?” asked Roger. Exiting the main doors two officers had the Doctor handcuffed and dragged him towards their cruiser while the Manager of the hotel huddling himself in his coat to block out the winter chill said.

“And if you want my advice you see to it that creep never gets out.”

“No worries Mr. Anderson. We’ve had several reports fitting this guy’s description of property trespassing. We’ll take good care of him.” Said the older male officer as he and his partner put the Doctor in the back of the cruiser. Confused and starting to worry for his family’s safety Deacy was the first to run towards the officer.

“Deacy wait!” Freddie called out to him as he and the other two band members followed him. As the older officer started his car, John came up to him and said.

“Officer what’s going on here?”

“Sir please step back.”

“Please my wife is checked into that hotel what happened!” Deacy’s tone was urgent and stern as his eyes were widened with fear.

“Just stopped an invasion from escalating. Caught this guy trying to attack a young teenage girl and a baby.”

“What!?!” Roger asked urgently.

“No Robert!” Deacy exclaimed worriedly. Soon all four band members started calling off either Veronica’s, (y/n)’s and Robert’s names as they raced inside the hotel and towards the room Veronica said she was staying in.

The second they barged into the room, they saw Veronica sitting on the kitchen floor holding Robert in her arms.

“Veronica!”

“John!” Deacy immediately fell to his knees in front of her and hugged both his wife and son close.

“Are you both okay? What happened?” Deacy asked frantically.

“I—I went out for about five minutes to pick up some more diapers for Robert, and when I came back I saw (y/n) on the floor covered in blood holding Robert and that-that-that creep was standing over them. I didn’t know what else to do!” Veronica ranted hysterically. Deacy shushed her and held her close as he comfortingly stroked her back.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. You both are safe now. I’m here, I’m so sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

“Wait but—where’s (y/n)?” asked Roger.

“She was hysterical. Even ran after the police begging them to not arrest the creep. They—over powered her and shoved her into the closet where I had the creep locked up.”

“They what!?” exclaimed Roger. “Why did you just let that happen!?”

“Roger dear calm down.” Freddie tried to calm the hotheaded drummer down.

“You damn well know why I won’t bloody calm down Fred! Why did you let them do that to her!?”

“Don’t shout at my wife Roger! She’s been through enough already!” Deacy snarled protectively.

“What else was I supposed to do? She was actually defending her own attacker.” Veronica said.

“Not let the police assault her then lock her up. Which closet is she is?” Veronica pointed to the one just across from the kitchen. Roger unlocked the door only to be tackled by (y/n).

*My POV*

God all of this shit shouldn’t have happened. No wonder why the Doctor tends to stay away from human past when police get heavily involved. If they find out he’s not really human, who knows what they’ll do to him?

Of course I tried to stop them but two male policemen just jumped me as I tried to get the Doctor out of the room, one of them even tasered me forcing me down and they just shut me in here deeming that I was too hysterical to handle. I think I even heard the one who tazed me to call the nuthouse.

But the second I heard the voices of the guys coming in, I wobbled myself up to the door. Just before I could open it the door suddenly swung open and I fell into Roger’s arms.

“(Y/n). (Y/n) love can you hear me?” I groaned barely even able to speak due to having more than the required 1000 milliamps charge through me in order to stun me. God I hated getting tazed, it was not fun at all. At this point I pushed myself off of Rog and looked like a drunk person as I babbled nonsense and tried to enter the bedroom.

“God she’s hysterical and completely out of it. John set her down before she hurts herself.” Veronica said. I felt John’s hands take my arms but I mumbled.

“No! No….” I fell to the ground with a groan and crawled towards the corner.

“(Y/n) please you need rest. You just went through something traumatic.” Brian said calmly.

“Not to mention assaulted by the police.” Roger sneered.

“No lo—look!” I finally reached the corner and as best as I could, dragged out the siren’s body but I collapsed right on the floor groaning.

“Wait what the—Fred help me with this.” Soon Roger and Freddie dragged the siren out by the feet and finally everyone got to see the body of the siren.

“Who—who is that?” Brian said. Roger then turned it over and was shocked to see a slight version of himself. Fred was just baffled.

“You don’t have a long lost twin we don’t know about do you Roger?” he asked.

“No I only have one sibling and that’s Clare.”

“Well whoever this is sure looks a hell like you, but these nails yeesh!”

“So if this was the real intruder, then the one the police have is an innocent man.” Said Freddie.

“But how do we know that? He could’ve been an accomplice?” Deacy stated firmly.

“Then why would (y/n) have put up such a fight to ensure they didn’t take him away? God never have a seen a girl act like an—a protective animal. She was clawing, screaming and kicking them as they tried to take him away. Oh God what have I done?” Veronica said.

“None of this was your fault Veronica darling, you were just doing what any mother would do. Your first concern was your child’s safety as well as (y/n)’s.” Freddie told her.

I slowly tried to pick myself up off the floor but I kept wobbling just like Bambi after he got shot when he saved Faline from the hunter’s dogs. It was then I saw Roger come towards me and he slowly helped me up.

“There we go lovie. Easy now, easy, easy, easy.”

“Doctor.” I mumbled out.

“She’s right, we need to get her a doctor.” Said Roger. I wanted to talk back but at this point my brain is still fuzzy from nearly being barbecued to death.

“Alright, Fred, Brian, you two go with Rog and take (y/n) back to our hotel. Veronica and I will head over to the police station to get all this cleared up.”

“What will you tell them?” asked Brian as he began to pack some of (y/n)’s things.

“We’ll come up with something. C’mon love we better hurry.” Then John and Veronica left the room and took her car over to the police station.

“I’ll ring us a cab to the hotel, you two keep packing.” Said Roger as he guided me out of the room. My footing was wobbly and that’s when Roger finally decided to pick me up bridal style and I just kept whispering.

“Doctor……Doctor…..Doctor.”

“I know love, I know. We’ll get you a doctor soon enough.” And it was at that moment I passed out again.

*3rd Person POV*

At the police station the Doctor was currently being hold in containment.

“You’re making a mistake. I wouldn’t dare hurt (y/n) she’s my friend I was trying to help her!” The chief of police looked at the Doctor through the two way mirror and the Lt. said to the chief.

“Can you believe this crap?”

“I’ve seen weird but this guy deserves to be put in a straitjacket and sent to the looney bin.”

“Chief, excuse me chief.” A police sergeant came up to them and he said to them. “Sorry to interrupt but Mr. And Mrs. Deacon are here to talk to you.”

“Ahh great. Probably to confirm that they want to press charges against him for attacking that girl and baby.” The chief then walked to his office and there he saw John and Veronica sitting on the two chairs. “Glad you both came down, now are we here to discuss the matter of pressing charges against your attacker?”

“Actually sir. We talked it over and—we’re willing to drop the charges against the fellow.” Answered Deacy. The chief looked at him like the bassist had grown three heads.

“Mr. Deacon. What this man did according to your wife is a serious matter? Are you sure you wish to consider dropping the charges?”

“Yes. Chief Evans, I—it turned out there was another man who was found knocked unconscious in our room. He was the real intruder.” Said Veronica as she held Robert closer to her and he softly cooed.

“Where is this man now?”

“He’s dead. The head injury to him just—killed him on impact. We couldn’t find a heartbeat.” Said Veronica. Chief Evans sighed heavily and he said.

“Alright but—the guy’s been set on bail of 5,000 pounds.”

“I’ll pay it.” Said Deacy. “Just make sure he’s released tonight.”

“Very well, there’s just a few papers you both need to sign and then you’ll write up the check.” They both nodded and proceeded to do the work.

Once the check was made and the bond was made, the chief called in the holding section to release the Doctor from his cell. When the Doctor saw his cell being unlocked he said.

“Am I going to the real slammer?”

“No. You’ve been bailed out. Now come on before we change our minds.” Said one of the sergeants as another one came toward him and unlocked his cuffs that held him down to the table.

“Well thank you gentlemen. Now you officer Blake, kindly explain to me why you physically assaulted my friend back at the hotel room?”

“That’s Sergeant Blake to you. And she’s lucky she didn’t end up getting herself arrested for assault on an officer.”

“Well it wouldn’t be the first time.” The Doctor muttered.

“Now follow me. And no more questions.” Sergeant Blake sneered as he and the other officer escorted the Doctor out of the holding cell and towards the front lobby of the police station.

“Okay Mr. and Mrs. Deacon. Your bond has gone through, we’ll be in touch with further questions.” Said the chief as he and the Deacons came out of his office and stood before the lobby.

“Thank you Chief.” Said John as he shook hands with him and Veronica adjusted Robert against her shoulder and shook the chief’s hand as well before he went back toward his office.

“Ahh the Deacons. John and Veronica. And baby Robert, oh glad to see he’s doing alright from that little scare earlier. Couldn’t you both hear that he was trying to tell you that I wasn’t the guy?”

“How would you know what he was saying? He’s only five months old.” Said Veronica.

“I speak baby.” The Doctor stated nonchalantly.

“You—you speak baby?” baffled Veronica.

“Yeah. Is that so surprising that babies actually have a voice even with them being so young?” At this point, Deacy grabbed hold of the Doctor’s arm and escorted him out of the police station.

“John. John hold on wait a second!” Veronica protested as she followed the two men outside. As soon as they reached the curb, he released the Doctor and the Doctor said.

“Wow, wow that was a strong grip. People should think twice about messing with you John Deacon.”

“Enough of this. First of all who the hell are you, how do you know our names and why the bloody hell did that—that….person look like Roger?!” At this point the Doctor’s facial expression grew solemn and stoic.

“Look. I know you both have been through something traumatic tonight that no parent should have to go through.”

“You think?” hissed John.

“But trust me when I say that I am on your side.”

“What do you mean ‘our side’? And you never answered my first question, who are you?”

“I’m the Doctor.”

“Doctor? Doctor Who?” asked Veronica. At that moment, Robert cooed and babbled and that’s when the Doctor said.

“Well thank you for the compliment Bobby but (y/n) is the real hero who saved you from that monster. Oh (y/n)! Where is she? Is she alright?”

“She’s fine. Brian, Rog and Freddie took her to our hotel for her to rest and get looked at.”

“That Blake fellow didn’t hurt her too bad did he?”

“He tazzed her if that’s what you mean?”

“Ohh bloody—that girl I swear is always looking for trouble. I’ve told her to never attack an officer of the law especially around these timelines.” He muttered to himself.

“Wait! Are—are you the friend she’s been telling us about?” asked Deacy.

“What has she told you exactly?” asked the Doctor.

“Roger said he met up with her last night after she was jumped by some thugs. Assaulted her pretty badly, scratches along her arms, I’d never even see Freddie’s cats make marks like that.” At hearing this, the Doctor exhaled in relief.

“Then yes. I was that friend. I’ve been looking for her for hours ever since then. But when I went back, she was gone.”

“Well we can take you to our hotel. But promise me you’ll have more answers to the remaining questions I just asked you.”

“As I said John, I’ll tell you everything I know. Right now I just need to make sure my friend (y/n) is okay.”

“I’ll go hail us a cabbie then.” Veronica said as she walked out to the side of the road and held her hand out to signal the next cabbie that drove by. Shortly after a couple minutes, they all piled in the cabbie’s car and Deacy gave them the directions to the hotel he and the boys were staying at.

*My POV*

When I finally woke up, I found myself in a familiar room once again, I felt something wet and cold being dabbed across my face and that’s when a voice said.

“And sleeping beauty awakes. How you feeling darling?” I looked to my left to see Freddie sitting by my bedside. He softly smiled showing off that famed overbite of his.

“A little funny. But—I’ll live. Hadn’t been the first time this happened to me anyways.”

“What kind of life have you been living my dear?”

“Trust me, it’s better you don’t know.”

“Well you’ll be happy to know that Roger can finally stop fussing about you. Blondie was about to have himself a heart attack with all the pacing and frantic worrying he was doing. That is if he didn’t run a rut in the middle of the living room.”

“I didn’t mean to cause him such worry.”

“Oh don’t be so dramatic darling. Never have I seen Roger behave this way around another girl except his sister. You seem to have him wrapped around your little finger darling.” He playfully and gently bopped my nose which made me grin and softly chuckle. “Here darling, drink this.” He held up a cup of water and I took a sip of it and allowed it to hydrate me up.

“Fred, you know what she really needs is some juice for vitamins.” Said Brian as he now came into the room along with Roger. Brian held in his hand a bottle of orange juice and he as well as Roger came over to me and Brian handed me the bottle.

“Thanks Bri.” I said as I took the bottle.

“You sure you’re okay (y/n)? You were pretty out of it back there.” Said Roger as he stroked down my hair. I turned to look at him and I assured him.

“I’m okay Roger, I promise.” He looked at me with that soft, affectionate look in his eyes as he leaned forward and pressed his forehead to mine while cupping the back of my head.

But it was then our moment was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Well about bloody time. We called for a doctor an hour and a half ago.” Freddie proclaimed as he headed for the door and that’s when he said. “Deacy, Veronica.”

“Hey Freddie, is (y/n) awake?” I could hear Deacy ask.

“Yeah she’s in the room with Brian and Roger.” Next thing I knew I saw the Doctor coming into the bedroom and he said.

“Oh thank god (y/n)!”

“Doctor!” I quickly but very wobbled out of bed and hugged him and he hugged and kissed me back.

“Are you okay?” he asked me.

“Why are you asking me that? The real question is if you’re okay? They didn’t fully process you did they? Oh god if they did—”

“Relax (y/n) everything’s fine. I was just being hold in a detaining cell, but Deacy and Veronica bailed me out just in time.” As Deacy and Veronica walked in the room with Freddie I turned to them and said.

“Did you guys really bail him out?” Deacy and Veronica nodded.

“After we had discovered that horrible body, we began to figure out that maybe your friend was really innocent. Why else would you have gone to such lengths such as assaulting an officer to protect him and not have him be sent to jail?” said Veronica.

“Wait so (y/n)—this is the friend you were telling us about?” asked Roger.

“Yes. Roger, Brian, Freddie this is the Doctor.”

“Doctor who?” asked Brian.

“Well not quite the same doctor as you are—or well trying to be my dear Brian.”

“How did you—”

“I think it’s time we got that explanation you promised us Doctor.” Said Deacy. I looked up to the Doctor in fear and I mouthed.

‘What’ll we tell them? I—what if they don’t accept the truth?’

“It’ll be okay love. Besides they were bound to know eventually.” He whispered to me. “Right, gentlemen, madam, Sir Robert of Bucksley.” They all looked at him confused. “Oh yes that’s what he wants to be called from now on. Anyways, I did say I owed an explanation but it’s best if you all follow me around the corner of the hotel.”

“Why exactly?” asked Roger.

“Roger please it’ll—it’ll make more sense if we show you.” I told him. Soon everyone stood up and we all got bundled up, well except the Doctor and as we walked outside, I felt Roger take my arm and he whispered.

“(Y/n) what exactly is going on?”

“I’m sorry Rog but I—I didn’t exactly tell you the whole truth of how I came here.”

“What do you mean?” it was then we finally arrived at the TARDIS.

“Ahh here we are, and thankfully no one used it yet. Then again I always keep her locked up tight.” The Doctor said.

“Minus the time you let the angels take it.” I sassed at him.

“That was not my fault and you know it missy!” he sassed back at me.

“A police box? What exactly are we looking at here?” asked Freddie.

“This my dear rockstars is the Time and Relative Dimensions In Space box, or TARDIS since it’s much easier to remember. My time machine.”

At that statement, the guys and Veronica were just dumbfounded.

“You’re joking right?” asked Deacy.

“Afraid not Deacy.” I said.

“You can’t be serious. Time travel is—it’s nothing but fiction. Something out of Star Trek or something.” Stated Brian.

“If you don’t believe me,” then with a snap of his fingers, the doors of the TARDIS opened and all that could be seen within was the bright light. “Why not have a step inside? See for yourselves.” I was the first to walk into the TARDIS. I turned towards the guys and nodded before entering inside.

I sat down on the staircase that led up to the mini library bookcase he had on the upper catwalk and that’s when I saw the first Queen band member Freddie enter inside, followed by Deacy and Veronica, Roger and then Brian.

And as always like many before, even me when you first step into the TARDIS, it’s unbelievable at the hugeness that’s on the inside of what looks like a police box inside.

Brian even had to do a double check as he raced outside before coming back in. The Doctor walked towards the controls and he said.

“Well…..go on say it. Everyone else does.”

“It’s……it’s……” started Freddie in awe.

“Bigger on….” Said Deacy then Roger finished.

“The inside.”

“But—how I mean it’s…..it’s impossible.”

“Not for a time lord, or Gallifrey technology, which is what you’re looking at.” Explained the Doctor.

“Gallifrey? What is that some type of Italian district?” asked Roger.

“No it’s actually—well was a planet. Far beyond your solar system. It’s a long story that I’d—rather not talk about right now.”

“And what was it that you said you were?” asked Veronica as she adjusted Robert in her arms.

“I’m a Time Lord. We basically have the ability to manipulate and travel throughout all of time and space.”

“So—you mean to tell me that this….is a legit time machine. You both travel throughout time and space?” asked Brian as he turned towards the Doctor.

“Exactly. Well I do mostly, I came across (y/n) two years ago. Which brings up another thing you all should know about her.” They all turned towards me and I looked down shamefully.

“As I said before Rog, and I’ll let the rest of you know now. I—I’m not exactly from here. I mean I do live in London but just not this time of London. I—I’m from the future.”

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magic-multicolored-miracle · 4 years

Note

honesty hour: have you ever had a near-death experience? If it's not traumatizing, will you tell us about it.

So this got super lost in my askbox somehow the other day.

Also, Nonny, that’s dark. Just casually asking a stranger “Tell me about a time you almost died.” I like it.

Short answer is yes, I have had a near-death experience, fairly recently actually (within the last few years), and it horrifies my friends how cheerfully I tell it. Long answer: buckle up for a roller coaster of Bad Decisions™!

(I mean technically I don't know for sure that I almost died, since I'm fine now)

So a few years ago, during my junior year of college, I studied abroad for a semester in Dublin. One of the popular foods there is chips with curry sauce. For most of the 16 weeks we were there, I skipped this snack, because I am a traditionalist and really like my fish and chips with salt and vinegar. But one day I was walking back to the dorms from campus and decided to stop and figured, we’ve got less than 2 weeks left, I should try it once, what the hell. Ended up with two orders of it because they messed something up and gave me one for free, I dunno. Anyway, I go home, I eat these chips and curry but almost immediately I can tell they’re not sitting right with my stomach, so I put the other container and a half in the fridge figuring maybe I’ll feel better and try them again later, and I call it a pretty early night since the next morning is Saturday and there’s a big outing planned to Forty Foot (cliff diving) which I was looking forward to and we were leaving pretty early for.

I’m going to sidebar this story to note that Irish curry sauces as I later found out, frequently have a base of coconut milk if they’re made fresh rather than from a packet. I am severely allergic to coconut, and also an idiot. But that is not the TL;DR of this story. It gets more dumbass.

So I woke up to get ready for this trip feeling even worse than I did the night before, because now as well as the nausea, my throat burns and my face feels puffy (like I’m coming down with the worst cold in my life). So I take a couple Benadryl and a cold shower hoping that it’ll help me shake off a morning ‘bleh.’ I am fully planning to leap 40ft into the ocean in April, regardless of how I feel. You only die once right? However, while I’m taking this shower, I almost pass out (not sure if I ever told my roommates that little tidbit) so I decide okay fine maybe not, and I assure the two roommates who are going that it’s totally fine, go have fun, and my third roommate who was planning to go to the national museum instead to absolutely still go, we have two weeks left don’t let me hold you back. And I go the fuck back to sleep.

Wake up a few hours later (around noon) still feeling like shit and I decide I should probably eat something. But all I have is the leftover curry chips. So I scrape as much of the sauce off as I can and hope the soft golden potatoes will cure my stomach ills. Then go back to sleep, only to wake up maybe 20 minutes later Doubled Over in Intense Pain from my stomach. Also my face is visibly swollen, I can barely open my eyes, I’m dizzy as hell, my tongue feels numb, and it feels like I’ve swallowed a thousand tiny razor blades.

A smart person who woke up experiencing these symptoms would call 999, or at the very least call the roommate that’s still in the city and summon her return.

I did neither of those things. I went “Oh. This is bad. I think I’m having an allergic reaction, and it’s kinda bad.” Then I took about four or five times the recommended dose of Benadryl, and an unremembered number of ibuprofen (I’m almost certain it was also over the recommended dose but I literally do not remember what I actually took) and WENT BACK TO SLEEP!

My roommates apparently tried to wake me up and check on me when they got home around 8pm and I very slurredly told them I was “just tired, I’ll be fine.” But I do not recall this.

On Monday, one of them noticed the second container of curry chips in the fridge and asked if I was going to eat them. My answer: “Oh no. I had a serious allergic reaction to them, that’s why I was so sick on Saturday, I’m pretty sure I was going into anaphylaxis but I took some allergy meds and slept it off and I’m not dead so it’s all good. But I’m not doing it again, so you can have them if you want.”

They were all weirdly mad at me for it.

#long post #honest hour #ask game #tw: allergic reactions #tw: anaphylaxis #tw: medications #let this be a lesson kids: don't eat things you're allergic to and then practically OD on allergy meds about it #because your friends will get super mad at you for not seeking medical help #I also now have a strong aversion to curry for some reason

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happy-haunts · 5 years

Text

The Hostess

Chapter one | Constance pt.1 : Constance pt.2

Chapter two | Mister Topper pt.1 : Mister Topper pt.2

Chapter three | Madame Leota pt.1 : Madame Leota pt.2

Chapter four | The Hostess

Chapter five | Captain Blood pt.1 : Captain Blood pt.2

Chapter six | Emily DeClaire pt.1 : Emily DeClaire pt.2 : Emily DeClaire pt.3

Chapter seven | Finale

I walked with Red and Constance behind me as I held my lamp up beside my head, leading them to a door that said ‘Cast Members Only’ and upon opening they were flooded with the overwhelming pinks, on my walls were several prominent heroes, princesses, magical girls, and fantasy posters. I had bookshelves filled with books- sitting atop them were the animes, manga, and novels of the characters on my walls if not more, hanging in a closet with black beads as curtains were cosplays and an assortment of pastel clothing, my bed was just a standard queen with regular pastel pink sheets(and a body pillow of a really hot anime girl), and last but not least my pink desk with my tiny chibi figurines, pink desk chair, pink headphones, and gaming set up.

I felt rather embarrassed that Red and Constance had to see this side of me but I attempted not to show it as I took a seat in my desk chair. Constance sat on my bed while Red kept standing- she seemed visibly uncomfortable in my room.

“Okay so pushing aside all of the questions I have about just this...” Red gestured to everything, “Maybe you can tell us how you managed to break Constances’ amnesia? Because that would be helpful in the future.”

“I can tell you that but it might involve alot more context.” I poked my fingers together nervously.

Red sighed and sat beside Constance on the bed, “Fine! Tell us your life story!” Constance gave a smile as she poked the body pillow.

❧

I am a twin, but my sister and I aren’t very close since she tends to be so depressing! She asks me if I want to know when I want to die, tells me the world is eternally doomed, and will sometimes quote outdated jokes from the internet. I’m the opposite to my sister, I read manga, cosplay, do seances in my room at 2am because I desperately want a date even if that means I need to sign a pact with a crossroads demon, and sometimes I actually drink the recommended amount of water in a day. Our home life was normal enough, we lived in the suburbs of California which could be kind of dreary at times with how sunny it is, so when my sister and I received a letter to work in a haunted mansion (TM) you could see how we would jump at the chance! It was a dream job for both of us! My sister would get to do more research in the powers of the undead and I could spend all day reading manga and messaging my devil boyfriend who won’t return my summons.

And that was that, I was sent to Liberty Square to await the inevitable rising of my undead ancestors and make sure they didn’t do anything damaging to anyone in or around the mansion.

When I arrived to the rather well-put together mansion I was greeted by a gentleman named Fletcher Hodges who was there to welcome me to the mansion. “Ah you must have been the Hostess assigned to the Liberty Square branch of Gracey manors?” He extended his hand for me to shake as I accepted it.

“Yes, I heard there would be ghosts...? Where are they?”

“Oh they haven’t risen just yet, but according to our calculations they should be due to show in a couple months - if they show at all.”

“You don’t believe in ghosts Mr. Hodges?” He adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat.

“Not exactly, I know they exist since I’ve conducted many experiments and what I’ve recorded is that ghosts are seemingly everywhere - dozens of people who have unfinished business (or in this case cursed) roaming on a plane parallel to our own, but we are unable to see or interact with them without the aid of technology or a highly remarkable gift.”

“Wait if they can’t interact with us then what is the threat of this curse? They’ll all just exist on their own plane.”

“Ah, not exactly! I was reading up on this type of necromancy in ‘Necronomicon on the go’ and there is a footnote similar to this situation -it states that if an apparition gains the ability to raise the dead then it can have a dramatic side-effect, which may cause the user and those risen to exist in the same plane as us mortals while also having their spectral bodies.”

“Well that could be a problem.”

“And as a descendant of the Gracey bloodline we believe it is your responsibility to care for your elderly.”

“Would they really be considered elderly if they’re dead?” Mr. Hodges waved his hand at me and handed me an envelope as well as a box.

“Lets not get into the finer details, here is your first paycheck - you will receive one at the end of every week, and here is your uniform.”

“How will you know I’m even in uniform?” He looked at me with a stone cold expression.

“We know everything.” I raised my eyebrows - that was disturbing. “Now if you excuse me I need to be in Tokyo tomorrow - so I must get to the airport.”

“Wait, isn’t there anything you can give me? Maybe a spirit wrangling lasso?”

“I’m afraid not, but Leota’s headstone is out back so perhaps you can ask her once she’s risen.” He gave me a wave and walked back to his car.

“Well that’s not very helpful.” I opened the paystub and almost choked $400 for doing nothing in an empty mansion! “You know maybe I can figure something out.”

❧

I wasn’t sure how long it would take for these ghosts to appear - or if they even would - but I got started on my room almost immediately, painting the walls myself and buying cheap shelves so I could save up for the books and figures that I always wished I had enough money for.

I remember a very specific weekend when I was putting together a second bookshelf (I had filled the other one up already)and was out of uniform - it wasn’t anything awful just a pink shirt with fuzzy blue pajama bottoms. I heard a voice coming from the hallway and quickly threw on my uniform before walking out to investigate - but we will ignore the fact that I had forgotten I was wearing pink bunny slippers.

Walking down the hallway was a blue apparition, he shimmered like water, his wavy hair floating around his features.

“Emily?” He called, but when he turned his head he only saw me. “Who are you?”

“The Hostess - who are you?”

“William Gracey, is Emily here? Have I risen her?”

“I’m not sure? Maybe die again and come back later?” He gave me a skeptical look.

“I don’t think I can be killed again.”

“I could figure it out probably, I’ve been watching this show about two brothers who fight monsters and -.”

“I’ll stop you, I don’t care.” He then kept walking - mumbling something to himself.

“Maybe if it hasn’t worked you just need to try harder?” William glanced back to me with a dark glare- his glowing red eyes piercing me.

“Fine, why don’t I just raise the entire graveyard!”

“No, no, no, no!”

But I guess I hit a nerve because he raised everyone...

Ballroom dancers were swaying in the parlor, an undead horse charged down the halls, some guy kept throwing around hat puns and making his head appear in his hat suitcase - it was overall a mess.

“Perhaps this is better?” William smirked and disappeared into the walls.

“What a dick!” I shouted, but I had a job to do ... oh crap I had a job to do. “Well lets start with ... A catalog.” So I grabbed a spare journal and began to catalog all the names of of the inhabitants and a short description of them.

Constance Hatchaway : Attic bride - I walked into the attic to try and find that William guy who made my life 999 times harder than it needed to be, sitting on a chest was Constance.

“Hello? I’m making a catalog of ghosts in the mansion, could I get your name and if you can recall - a brief summary of your life?” She stood up and when she turned to face me I noticed the hatchet in her hand.

“Constance Hatchaway - the Hatchaway bride, I killed all of my husbands in life because they were trash.”

“Mhm, mhm, ma’am please set down the hatchet.” She looked at her hand and gave a little chuckle.

“I’m not going to do anything to you...” She sat back on a chest with her chin in her palm. “I just wish I had made some different choices when I was alive.”

“If it helps you have a whole afterlife to do things that you wanted to before? I can come back to talk more with you after the catalog is done?” She perked up and gave me a warm smile.

“That would be wonderful if you did.”

Hatty : origins unknown - I had begun to notice when I approached the inhabitants of the mansion over time a lot of them couldn’t much recall their lives, most of those in particular were quite old ghosts, I’m talking Egypt ghosts which made absolutely no sense! But the puzzling thing was when I approached Hatty - a rather skeletal looking apparition - he couldn’t recall his name, life, or death let alone recall the room he just came out of. I took it upon myself to just go ahead and write down a name for him, Hatty seemed rather suitable given that was his preferred pun.

Madame Leota : Psychic and Scorceress - When Leota finally appeared in her crystal ball she was rather puzzled, not knowing that she would be buried on Gracey soil -thus immortalizing herself within the curse.

“Just call me the Hostess.” Leota eyed me up and down before finally flashing a smile.

“Alright, so what else is it that you need of me?”

“I’m glad you asked, I need to have more power over the mansion’s ghosts than that William guy.”

“Well if you remain inside the mansion’s property you’re out of luck, I gave him all the powers he desires so long as he died and was forgotten.”

“Isn’t there some kind of loophole you can give me just in case this dick decides he wants to go on a power trip?”

“I suppose I could give you something to ward off his presence in a limited manner...” She made a lantern materialize before me, “When a candle is lit inside this lantern, any control William has over the inhabitants of this mansion will be lifted - as well as William cannot step foot into the light to do harm to any apparitions he may wish to hurt.”

“This is fantastic!”

“I could, however, give you all the powers I possess if you want to make a deal?”

“Nah that’s okay and anyway the groundskeeper has been complaining about not having a light at nighttime, so this can double as his little walking light.” I exited the seance room and began looking through my catalog - so far I recorded 998 ghosts, but I hadn’t ran into any named Emily? Maybe William’s attempt to bring this girl back from the dead really did fail?

❧

I walked along the large windows of the ballroom as I watched the dancers spin in circles, but something outside caught my eye - a glowing specter in the distance.

“I am not about to lose a ghost on my first day.” I grumbled and marched outside, it was further away than I expected - sitting atop a hill of wildflowers overlooking the river that reflected moonlight from it’s surface. “Hey! You’re too far from the mansion property, I’m going to need to escort you back inside until I see about drawing up some travel papers - because honestly I don’t think those hitchhikers are going to stay in one place very long.” I placed my hand on my hip with a sigh - I needed a raise.

“I danced with a boy on that river.” The ghost mused, her hair was a dark violet, skin purple, and wearing a white wedding dress with a matching flower crown that left petals scattered through her hair. “I remember that ... I remember everything...” She turned to face me, her eyes glowed blue unlike all the other ghosts, and on her chest was a bright red beating heart.

“I don’t think I’ve met you...” I mumbled, sitting beside her and pulling out my catalog. “What is your name?”

“Emily DeClaire, what is your name?” She adjusted herself so we faced each other.

“I’m the...” I blinked, my heart tugged in my chest as I was about to tell her my job description. “I’m Tera Normal.”

“Good to meet you! But you aren’t a ghost?” She hesitantly reached out her hands and passed them through my arm.

“No, I’m the Hostess I work here to try and keep all of you contained - seeing as you aren’t supposed to be on this plane but rather the one parallel to us.” I sighed “But William really missed you I guess and is looking for you.”

“Oh dear, well I can help in any way that I’m able!” She clenched her little hands into fists, smiling with determination. “But I suppose first I should go see William if he is missing me that much.” She bounced up in realization, “Oh! Is Mister Topper here too?”

“I don’t have a Mister Topper listed...” I furiously flipped through my catalog, “I have an Ezra Topper?”

“No, that’s just Mister Topper’s brother.” She gave a huff as another startling feeling came across my heart, I felt like it was breaking in two. “I suppose he can’t be here can he?”

“Not if he wasn’t buried here.” Another sharp pain pierced my heart. “But maybe William can sort this out?” Part of the aching lifted.

“Do you really think so?” She smiled at me then twirled into the air, “Okay! we can go see William, maybe he knows how to get my Topper back!”

But once we walked back into the mansion I noticed there was something strange going on with Emily. “So does this Mister Topper have a first name or is it just Topper?”

“Who?” Emily turned her gaze to me now.

“Um, Mister Topper? The guy you’re missing?”

“Topper... Top hat...” She mused- but was overcome when she thought about top hat and began crying. “He lost his head!”

“Whoa, okay what is going on with you?”

“Hurry back!” She screamed as her deafening heartbeat made the walls shake. “Please, Hurry back!”

“I’m right here, Emily...”

“Now look what you’ve done.” William scolded as he walked from the walls and wrapped his arms around Emily- who cried in his chest. “Hush, just forget and all the pain will be gone.” His hand slid over her head making her blink - a smile spreading across her lips.

“I can’t even remember what I was doing again, you must think I’m an air head.” She laughed to William, but tears were still streaking down her cheeks.

“What did you just do?” I hissed to the man, he glared at me - releasing Emily and lifting his hand to her.

“Emily can you give the Hostess and I some privacy?”

“Sure!” She sniffled and began floating down the hall, “I sure am crying a lot today.” William watched her disappear behind a door and then turned his gaze back to me.

“You can’t mention that name to her, where did you even hear it?”

“She told me his name! Are you the one making her forget? What is your problem!”

“It’s for her own good, you didn’t see her when she first came back ...” He closed his eyes and sighed, “She can’t remember, just trust me.”

“Well forgive me but I don’t trust you.” I lifted my lantern, reaching into my pockets to find some of the matches I stowed away.

“What you’re going to blind me?” He laughed and made a fist, slipping the hallway rug out from under my feet and knocking me to the ground, I clutched the lantern against me to keep it from breaking- William approached me now, I began crawling backwards in a panic. “I know, how about I have you join the mansion? We are just dying to have you!”

“Or you can shove it six feet under.” I lit up the match and ignited the lantern - shining it on William which pushed him backwards, I could see he was annoyed.

“Fine, you can do whatever it is you do - but leave Emily alone as well as make sure no one interferes with her memory, or there will be deadly consequences.”

“Just keep making death puns, I can sit here all day.” His cheeks glowed with a dark blue as he turned away and walked back into the wall. “He is SUCH a dick!”

❧

I sat at my desk and kicked my feet in my chair, Red and Constance looking at me with great interest. “Fast forward to today I had come across Hatty being crazier than normal, and whatever had been pushed on Hatty was spreading into the other ghosts - they didn’t seem to remember who they were or who I was! The ballroom ghosts were in a panic because they all forgot how to dance, and the Quartet forgot how to sing! So I lit my lamp and decided it was time to find the source - I ran from room to room till I came across you two! And now I know why the mansion is acting strange- because you two are prying into ghost business and William doesn’t want you to.”

“Well someone killed Emily and we think the murderer might *be* William, which means we need to confront him.” Constance had determination in her glowing yellow eyes, “Emily deserves better than to be played like a puppet.”

“Enough.” Came a deep voice, I turned quickly to my lamp to see the nub of my candle was out- the flame had been doused by the wax. “If you are all so curious to have a conversation then lets talk!” The voice boomed and my figurines were thrown across the room making me scream, books flying from the shelves, floor shaking, and lightbulbs bursting leaving us all in complete darkness other than the three glowing bodies before me.

Wait.

Three?

There he was, the first ghost I had laid eyes on when the mansion came to life.

“William?” I whispered in disbelief, Red seemed to be unaffected by this as though she might have guessed.

“What? Cat got your tongue? I thought you wanted to talk.” He grinned.

#ghost hostess #the haunted mansion #disney world #disneyland #wdw #madame leota #the hatbox ghost #emily declaire #we wants the redhead #Constance Hatchaway

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unto-myself-together · 5 years

Text

Of Stories and Songs: Ch 6

A Haunted Mansion fanfic.

I did want to get this chapter out before the new year 2019, and I guess I accomplished that goal

Author notes and story below the cut.

Authornotes: I wanted to give off the clear impression that there really are 999 spirits roaming around, which is why there’s a lot of going on here in this chapter.

I also apologize; I couldn’t quite find a reference pic that I wanted for the hallway, which may be why it looks a little bad. I also can’t scan things right now very well with what I have on hand.

I also tried to make a picture for the Wallpaper Woman, but it did not come out quite right and I don’t want to post what I came up with.

In this chapter, Karen is beginning to figure out a few things about ghosts, a few things more about the residents of the mansion, as well as a few things about her own psychic abilities.

You may recognize the very end; it’s an edited version of what was originally the teaser for this story. You can still look up the original teaser by going here

And yes. That’s me singing. I may end up removing it if I don’t like it later. I can’t tell if I suck or not. Eh. It may be better if you stare at the hallway artwork while listening to the singing. I don’t know. Tell me if it’s any good.

~~~~

Trigger warnings: ghosts, death concepts/discussions, murder, suicide, abuse, blood, lots of scary stuff (horror), implied sexual abuse, cursing (damn and hell), drug abuse, attempted rape (never completed; in a later chapter).

~~~

Table of Contents:

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 ,

Chapter 6 , Chapter 7

~~~

Ch 6: Sixth Sense

~~~

“If you want the present to be different from the past, study the past.”

---Baruch Spinoza, philosopher

~~~~

Shaking.

She was still curled up in a ball and shaking, though nothing paid her any heed.

No being came and bothered her; neither Ghost Host nor statue.

In a room by herself.

With a single lightbulb.

And a pile of coffins.

Those didn’t move either, and she thanked the stars for that.

Taking a deep breath (a quickly developing habit), she---

---one movement at a time---

---gradually got herself to stand. On two feet, too.

The door of the closet was as solid as when she had first approached it. No sign or markings that a statue had thrusted its arms and face straight through.

Of course not. That would make too much sense in a house full of plain nonsense.

And opening the door only brought with it more nonsense: the hallway was a different hallway than the one she came down. Again. Naturally.

The closet only had one door, so how could she have ended up at a different hallway?

She winced her eyes shut, and slowly opened them again.

No use. The new hallway was still there.

A very long hallway with wooden floors showing underneath the sprawling emerald green carpet. It seemed to go on forever, outlined with light from the small chandeliers every so few feet away. The doors on either side seemed to go on forever as well….except….

There were no door handles on any of them.

She sighed and ventured out. No point in getting upset over this; clearly this was just another thing going for this place.

And it was decently lit; not as bright as she’d like, but she was too frightened that the statue may return if she tried to turn more lights on.

It was so much…louder than before. In the distance, she could hear doors slamming, some people were laughing….Or was that…screaming?

But there was also….singing.

How many people were here?

Who was singing?

(listen to the singing)

[Mother?]

[Mother? Will you sing again soon?]

[Please?]

[I like it when you sing.]

Mother? Was that …the little boy speaking?

Karen willed herself to move forward. The voice was hard to pinpoint where it was coming from, although it sounded close. With the wafting way the voice seemed to rise above all the other sounds of humans, one would have thought it would be easier to find.

She moved one way, only for the voice to sound as though it were coming from the other.

It was impossible to chase the voice.

She frowned and eventually moved in a straighter line.

The voice never wavered, but the sounds of the other people grew louder.

At some point, she reached a junction where a door visibly slammed shut all on its own in front of her.

She froze.

Had she…found more people? More ghosts?

“Hello?” She asked, tentatively.

There was no response. No even the lightbulb breaking trick that the statue had been fond of.

Biting her lower lip, she voted against opening any doors and continued on.

The deeper she went, the colder it got. And louder the noises grew. It was more apparent that there was both laughter and screams all vying for space in the echoing halls.

She tried not to chatter her teeth as she brought her jacket closer around her.

Ahead, a black coffin lay atop a table among decayed flowers and rotting leaves. It took her more than a few moments to notice the glass enclosure that lay behind the dying candles, giving her the hint that she had made her way to the glass room she’d seen from outside.

The conservatory.

She flinched as this information popped in her head. Knowledge was all well and good, but she was beginning to really hate that facts and memories were intruding straight into her brain.

As she drew closer, the coffin unexpectedly jerked.

“Carlotta?!! Carlotta, I can hear you! Open up this lid!”

Her mouth went dry; she couldn’t answer.

“I can HEAR you, Carlotta! I swear to pieces, I. WANT. OUT. I’m so tired of these little games you play.”

Below the jutting wood and through a small hole drilled in the sides, there was a single eyeball, pale white and outlined in the decaying flesh of a corpse.

“I. SEE. YOU.” The sinews of old flesh flexed.

Karen wasn’t sure how she was supposed to react. She felt so worn out, she couldn’t quite bring her own anxiety up in response to a talking corpse in a jerking coffin. In a split decision, she instead quickly moved on, away from the conservatory. The Ghost Host was bad enough; she didn’t need more dead people threatening her life. Why, she’d start to get used to it.

A safe distance away, she slowed her pace again, her hands instinctively going to her pockets to get warmth.

The ring….

She pulled it out. The diamond sparkled at the tip, and the golden band almost glowed in the dim light.

Such a pretty thing…..And such…..a very strange….feeling….

…..

She stood at the foot of a bed. The young boy was already tucked in for the night, but he clung to the maid’s apron.

“Please mother? Can’t you read me just one bedtime story? I’m scared.”

Emily Slater hesitated, but then looked in fondness upon the boy’s face.

“I suppose there’s time for one. Which would you like?”

“Your favorite, mother.” He grinned sheepishly at her.

“Again?” She chuckled, but settled down next to him. One of her hands gently went to smooth out the ruffled mop of his hair. “…Don’t you grow tired of it?”

“…You don’t ever tire of it…You said you liked it….And…A-and it will take a long time, so you don’t have to go back to him yet!”

Her face was overcome with solemnity and sorrow. She gently cupped his face and stroked his cheek.

“You shouldn’t worry about such things, little one,” she said this with a smile, but her eyes told a different story. “Leave that to me, all right? Now, how does this story begin again…?”

She gave him a teasing side eye, which the boy responded in turn with an even wider grin.

“Once upon a time!” He said.

“Oh, that’s right! How could I forget? Once upon a time…

There lived a beautiful young woman named Ella.

But she lived with her cruel stepmother, and her equally cruel stepsisters.

They did not treat her like one of the family; instead, they treated her as a lowly servant.

And she was made to sleep amongst the fireplace cinders.

Her dirty, soot caked face convinced the stepsisters to start calling her

Cinderella.”

“But she didn’t give up and she tried really really hard to stay good!” The boy said.

“That’s right. Despite how cruel they were, she never gave up.

Her mother had made her promise to always be a good person, no matter what.

And so she always tried to be the best she could be.

One day, the handsome prince of the kingdom invited all of the girls in the village to his royal ball.”

“So that he could find someone to marry.”

“Yes…so he could find someone to marry…”

“And Ella is the one he found and fell in love with!” The boy exclaimed, eager now. “And he saved her from her cruel stepfamily and they lived happily ever after!”

Emily laughed and playfully poked his nose. “I thought you wanted to hear me read a story to you. Not the other way around.”

“I’m sorry, mother.” The boy couldn’t tone down his smile. “It’s my favorite part, because Ella gets all the nice things she deserves…”

“Yes…” Emily smiled back at him, a little bit more wistfully. “That part is my favorite too…”

The boy stared up at her, his smile dying down. “….Would you…want a prince to come save you, mother?”

She was startled by the question, her mouth hanging open. “I….that is…”

“Do…do you think that Nathaniel is the prince…?”

“No,” she said, rather firmly and immediately. But she then added: “Perhaps at one time…I may have thought he was. But that was a long time ago.”

The boy’s expression was unreadable, but he continued to watch her.

“What if….What if I saved you, mother?”

“…What?”

“When I grow up…I can come and save you, like the prince in the story!” The child’s enthusiasm was precious enough that she could not help but smile sweetly back at him.

“You can’t…you can’t marry me, little one,” she said, trying her best not to laugh at the well intentioned naiveté.

“No, but I can save you! I could! When I grow up, I promise!”

“You…” She tried not to let her emotions overcome her. The boy’s childish, pure logic was enviable.

She sighed, and stroked his hair. “I think you will have much more important things to focus on when you grow up. You should concentrate on school an—“

“Emily! Oh Emily!” A young man walked in. His face, and the way he held himself, looked all too familiar.

The man from the first memory.

“Nathaniel! I’ll…I’ll be with you in a moment. I’m telling a story—“

“Could it be a story about how my mother died years ago…” Nathaniel interrupted, his eyes narrowing in the young boy’s direction, “…and this brat is responsible?”

“Nathaniel!” She gasped, and tried to pull him away as he approached the child.

The boy whimpered and cowered under the covers, perhaps with the belief it might somehow save him.

“Oh, but Emily. My sweet Emily, there’s no mincing words. If he hadn’t been born…”

“Nathaniel! Not now, please.”

“And why NOT now? It’s as good a time as ever to bring it up again! Especially as he’s all nice and cozy in bed, being read to him by his ‘dear mother’.”

These last words he said with both heavy sarcasm and a disgusted sneer.

“How wonderful that you have a mother to read you stories!”

The man grew more and more visibly red in the face as he screamed.

“How I wish I could say the same, isn’t that right?!”

“Nathaniel, please. Nathaniel…I…I-I can read to you too, if you’d li-“

“Shut up!”

A sickening sound later and Emily was on the floor, hand clasped her face.

Nathaniel looked at her, almost in disbelief, and slowly looked at his own hands.

“N-no. Mother!” The child threw the covers off and tried to run to her side.

But Nathaniel grabbed him and pushed him to the ground. “What do you think you’re doing, brat? You see what you do? Do you see how angry you made me?! It’s…It’s your fault! It’s all your fault! You stupid little—“

Emily threw herself at the man as he advanced on the boy. “Nathaniel, please stop!”

“Let go of me! He needs to be taught his place. He needs to be taught a lesson.”

....

Her head was throbbing as she banged it against the wall in an effort to scuttle away.

Karen.

Her name was Karen, right?

That was right, right?

Karen’s whole body was shaking. That memory, or whatever it was, was much more powerful than the others. She struggled to bring herself back to the present time.

A hallway. The mansion house that she and Michael had entered.

Karen. Her name was Karen.

In a futile effort, Karen closed her eyes and tried to will away the feeling of a mark across her face.

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. Her cheek wasn’t REALLY stinging from a man hitting her.

She rose a hand to her face to feel against her cheek. There was no pain. It all vanished as soon as she did that.

Her attention went back to the memory. Emily looked younger than she did in the memory with the Ghost Host….and yet…

She didn’t remember the boy being with her when Emily struck a deal with the Ghost Host.

Why hadn’t she taken her son with her when she fled the mansion?

Karen’s stomach dropped as she thought through the implications of this.

What happened….to her son…?

She leaned heavily against the wall. Her head was pounding as soon as she stood up, and it was causing her to see things.

Strange things.

Like the face in the wallpaper.

……..

Karen blinked again.

…..There was a face…..in the wallpaper….of the hall….

She shook her head to try and get the pounding away, but that only made the pain worse.

It also didn’t seem to make the face disappear; on the contrary, it was now coupled with a set of hands.

Karen took a few uneasy steps back. The wallpaper already looked like a series of faces, and more than once she had to ignore what she’d thought were eyes blinking back at her. But this was such an obviously sculpted human form that she couldn’t just wave it away as a flight of fancy result of too many memories.

And it was becoming more and more pronounced by the seconds.

First it had been a face, mouth wide open as if frozen in a scream.

Then it had been a set of hands, reaching in front as if trying to escape.

Next a torso.

Then a foot.

A dress.

A person…

The wallpaper woman, newly freed from the wall, mechanically turned to Karen’s direction. Karen stumbled back further as the mouth opened and closed as if on hinges, hands opening and closing as if stretching. The pliability of the wallpaper person was increasing.

They could now close their mouth.

They could now put their hands down.

They could now open their eyes: Stark white eyes, with no pupils in sight.

Karen stumbled further back out of caution.

“Miss Slater!!” The Wallpaper Woman yelled, advancing upon her, “Miss Slater! Are you messing around with that boy again?!”

“Uh…uh….”

The woman was advancing further and further. A human shape, human face, but completely composed of wallpaper, save for stark white eyes. The purple of the paper of her “dress” almost had a sheen to it, like real silk would have.

“I swear, if the Master finds out what you’ve been doing with his son, he’ll kick you out for sure! Be thankful the war has preoccupied him for so long!”

But how do I say no to Nathaniel? I’m scared.

Karen tried to shake the intrusive thought away. She was already under the end table of the hallway.

“I’m only hard on you for your own good, Miss Slater!”

The Wallpaper Woman pounded on the table, her knocking almost akin to slamming her fist down in frustration.

Karen screamed, in part because she didn't know what to do, but also in some vain hope someone would help her.

The Wallpaper Woman paused. Karen could see the “hem” of her “dress” as it jutted out into her personal space.

The woman’s face loomed as the spirit ducked down its torso.

“You….” She said, her pupil-less eyes staring.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Karen whimpered; she could not retreat any further back and resorted to sticking her arms up in defense.

“Y-you….”

The Wallpaper Woman’s eyes began to flicker….a circle forming in the center of each of them….a pupil….

“Y-y-you…are….m-mortal….” The Wallpaper Woman stuttered in time with the flickering pupils.

Karen was struck speechless with confusion. This was a heel face turn and she couldn’t bring herself to respond.

“W-what…..what…..are you…..doing here…..?” The pupils seemed to refuse to solidify fully.

“I….I’m sorry….I’m….lost….” Karen finally managed to gulp back the lump.

The Wallpaper Woman laughed weakly. It had a sound similar to sandpaper slapped and scrapped together.

“So….so am I….Lost…I am Lost…like many…here….”

The spirit was retreating, and Karen, after hesitating, felt safe enough to poke her head out from under the table.

The spirit was….going backwards, as if by invisible force, towards the wallpaper. She reached it, and her face was contorted in agony for a flicker of a second as a crunching sound was heard.

“Wait!” Karen got out and approached her. “How do I get out of here? How do I find my friend? You haven’t….you haven’t seen a living boy--”

That sounded so odd out of her mouth.

“A living boy about my age come by here, have you?”

The crackling continued; the wallpaper surrounding the spirit began to latch onto the spirit herself, returning her to the rest of the wall.

“Down the hall….to the junction….” The spirit’s voice began to crackle too. “Two rights….one left…to the ballroom…the ones there are not Lost…they can help….they can help better…”

The ghost let out a cry as it fell further into the wall, which alarmed Karen. The ghost’s arms and dress were already dispersed through the wall.

“Are you okay?” Karen asked anxiously, her mortal hands hovering around the wallpaper in an attempt to help, but she wasn’t sure what to help with.

“Don’t let….” The ghost’s voice was beginning to fade now. “Don’t let…Master…Gracey….he will possess you…He wants…a body….”

The crackling came to a climax as the woman’s head embedded into the wall. The mouth of the woman fell silent as it was crackled over with more wallpaper.

It was hard to tell there had ever been a woman at all…

Master Gracey….

Which Master Gracey? As far as Karen could guess, Gracey was a family name and not one particular person.

Karen continued onward. At least the spirit had been nice enough to give her directions, but now she had even more questions.

Who was that ghost, since she knew Emily Slater?

Why did the ghost think she was Emily Slater?

What did the ghost mean by saying she herself was ‘Lost’? Wouldn’t a spirit who had lived here (or was it unlive?) for a long time know their way around?

Why did she have to find ghosts who were not ‘Lost’ in order to find her way out?

Did this have something to do with those strange white eyes that the spirits in this hallway seemed to all possess?

Karen turned all of these thoughts over in her head. Now that she considered it, the statue ghost had backed off after getting a set of pupils too.

The junction.

Karen had reached the junction. Four hallways (including the one she’d just came from) all intersecting together. And they were all different.

To the left, was such a completely dark hallway, it was impossible to see.

In the front was a brightly lit hallway, but it was encased completely in spider’s webs and parts of the doorframes and objects were severely distorted like something from a dream.

To the right…and Karen was very grateful for this, it was a hallway lit with moderate amounts of green light. The green light was creepy, but the hallway itself looked much like the one she had just came from.

One right….

As she wandered down the hall, the green light making her feel like a shamrock, she heard a deep….booming….laugh….

“Hmm hmm hmm hmmm…..”

That sounded just like….

“Ghost Host…?” She called out tentatively.

Her fingers felt along the edges of another table, preparing herself to hide again. That laughter couldn’t possibly be a good sign.

An old hat stool beside her…..her head was beginning to pound again….this felt just like…

…..

The slamming of the door caused Lucy to look up. The master, Solomon Gracey, had barged through the front entrance with an absolute look of chagrin on his face.

Immediately, she sought to step forward.

“Sir, shall I take your coat and hat?”

But he seemed to pay her no heed, instead choosing to take out a length of letter head and angrily scribble something she couldn’t quite read from her vantage point.

“S-sir?” She tentatively stepped closer, and Solomon’s face snapped to hers.

She almost felt frozen; held in the gaze of brilliantly blue eyes that still smoldered with barely restrained fury.

“S….S-s-sir?”

The gaze softened into surprise; and she felt release as if from physical bonds as his expression turned more neutral.

“Yes, Miss Blanchard? Did you need me?”

“Your….your coat….”

Confusion crossed his lips, then…

“Oh….yes, of course.” He shrugged off his outer coat and handed it to her alongside his hat. “Tell me, is Abigail around?”

“She…she should be in the main parlor, sir.”

“Of course. Thank you.” He nodded his acknowledgement to her with an apologetic smile, before leaving her. He took the paper with him.

She breathed a sigh of relief.

“Lucy!” A female voice whispered.

Lucille looked up to see Elizabeth, another maid, standing in the doorstep. She felt obliged to neatly hang up the master’s affects before joining her. The wafting fragrance of cypress, vetiver, and sandalwood rubbed off of the clothes and seemingly followed along with her.

Elizabeth giggled as Lucy came close.

“The master and Abigail are talking in the parlor.” Elizabeth said.

“I know; I sent him there.” Lucy took another deep breath, trying to wave away the memory of that stare (and also partially the fragrance of his clothes).

“Don’t you want to go up and give a little listen?” Elizabeth asked, coyly.

“I tell you; I do not think that is a very good idea at the moment. The master seemed rather angry coming in just now.”

“Oh he won’t mind. He’s already caught me eavesdropping before.”

“Elsie!” Lucy cried, laughing a bit with a tinge of red in her face.

“Well it is true! Just the other day, in fact! I was polishing the door handles when-“

“You don’t polish any of the door handles!” She playfully pushed at her friend.

“A good maid has to be attentive to every detail!” Elizabeth playfully pushed back.

“Hogwash. You were there solely because you wanted to listen in.”

“Aren’t you curious enough to know what happened?”

Lucy stared back at the gall of her friend. Both couldn’t resist to hold a cheeky smile on the edges of their lips.

“Go on then. Don’t leave me in suspense.” Lucy said.

“Well I was listening in, and it seems the company has been having trouble with that Williams’ family in town.”

“When are they not vying for each other’s business?”

“But that’s not the whole of it! I also heard of a circus…”

“A circus?”

“Yes. You know that strange circus that’s been making its rounds across the state? They were here some many years ago. It was so filled with dark things and death that I could scarcely stand it.”

“I remember it. But why the circus?”

“Well there seems to be a singer he’s taken an interest in.”

“To hire?”

“I’d say it was because he had something of a fancy for her. I can’t think of any reason why the Gracey family would need to hire a circus performer.”

“Neither can I, and yet you’re here.”

“Lucy!” The gobsmacked expression on Elsie’s face made it well worth the statement, even if it earned her a pinch on her arm in the process.

“And for my next trick!” Lucy stated with a giggling air of grandiosity. “I, the Great Elsie, will attempt—and fail—to fold the a simple shirt!”

“You beast, you beast!” Elsie laughed along as she nudged her friend harder.

“But you haven’t said the part where you’re caught.”

“I would get to that if it weren’t for all these interruptions you cause.”

They stared each other down, all smiles, and Elsie finally gave way first.

“All right, all right. So there I was. An ear to the door, naturally.”

“Naturally.”

“Hush you. An ear to the door, and, before I had known it, the door had suddenly swung open, and I landed none too ceremoniously at the master’s feet!”

“You didn’t! What did he say?”

“He was rather amused; you could read it on his face. I could even swear that those handsome blue eyes of his glistened a bit too. And he was very much the gentleman, allowing me to gather myself without so much as a word at my expense. But the moment I was up and proper, my dress smoothed out and face as red as a rose he leaned forward a bit and….”

“….And?? Elsie!”

Elizabeth laughed and leaned towards her. “And he said ‘Remember for next time, Miss Fletcher, that the doors in this particular hallway swing inward.’”

Both erupted in a fit of giggles.

“He didn’t.”

“He did!”

“Does that mean he approves of the habit?”

“I certainly mean to take it that way. Mr. Galloway, who was the one speaking to him, was not so amused. Oh but you should have seen it, Lucy. I could swear by Mr. Gracey’s grin he was teasing me. Perhaps I stand as much a chance as that circus performer.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “I think he was only humoring you. A smile doesn’t always mean a spark; you’ve too vivid an imagination for your own good sometimes.”

“A girl can still dream.” Elsie’s grin widened and she poked at her friend’s elbow. “You can’t honestly say that YOU’VE never felt a bit of a thing for our young employer, now can you?”

“Of course not.”

“…Uh huh.”

Lucy very much believed she did a good job steadying her emotions. But the moment she peered over and saw Elsie’s smug little grin, she could feel her face heating up.

“Well at the very least, I don’t wear it upon my sleeve. Unlike some people.” Lucy elbowed her back. “Your wanting is very nearly improper.”

“Oh it is very improper. To think; an eligible bachelor of his status ever considering to court a maid, of all people. But one doesn’t have to be courted to try and catch a gentleman’s eye. A little fun off the books never hurt anyone... ”

“Elsie!” Lucy’s face felt even hotter. “That is so inappropriate! Truly, I should think your mouth ought to be washed with soap!”

But Elsie only laughed. “Speaking of inappropriate, shall we go and listen in on what the master and Miss Galloway are doing in the parlor?”

Lucille made a face. “I don’t….think that’s wise today, Elsie.”

“Well why not?”

“The Graceys are just as much known for their generosity in payment as they are for their quick and violent tempers. And I’m telling you, the master’s temper looked particularly ready to boil over when he came in just now. I know firsthand what happens when one of the family is peeved with you…”

As if in response, the scars on her back stung a bit despite their age. The marks of a fine piece of birch.

“Oh my dear Lucy.” Elsie gently touched her cheek out of comfort. “I do so forget that you are used to Mrs. Emmeline Gracey. I promise you, as someone who has spent much time with Mr. Solomon before he left for school that he is not like his other relatives. His temper is as the same as them, but he has never once raised a hand to me or anyone else that works here. It’s all right.”

Lucy hesitated, but nonetheless allowed herself to be dragged by the hand as they crept upstairs to the walkway overlooking the main parlor.

“Speaking of a thing for the master. Have you ever notice how Miss Abigail Galloway looks at him? ….He looks at her much of the same way…”

….

Karen was panting, her hands shaking as she sat grasping the hat stand. Somehow, she had slumped her way down to the floor.

Were these….memories….getting more frequent?

Karen….her name was Karen…

And that’s exactly when she realized; she was no longer a third person observer.

The first memories she’d seen, she had always been her own separate person, watching in on the people in the memory as if she were some omnipotent being.

But this memory….she wasn’t Karen watching in….she was Lucy.

She was actually Lucy.

And before, she’d been Emily. She’d actually raised her hand to her cheek in response to being struck by Nathaniel.

If this continued on…was she going to…..

Was Karen going to….

She gave a soft cry and leaned against the hat stand.

She was still shaking so badly, she wasn’t sure she could stand up.

“Hmm hmm hmmm….”

“Ghost Host!” She cried out. “Ghost Host Ghost Host Ghost Host…”

In that moment, she wasn’t sure if she cared that he’d torment her further. She just wanted something familiar to latch onto. To ground her. Anything.

“What’s this? Calling for me now?”

“Yes…” Karen choked out, clinging to the hat stand like a teddy bear.

“My, we must be desperate. Could it be that you’ve missed me? Please do be honest, hmm hmm…”

She gritted her teeth. Already, he was getting on her nerves; this was a bad idea. But it was the best she had. She couldn’t even think straight at the moment. She still had Lucy’s thoughts swimming in her head.

“Yes,” She lied.

“….What an underwhelming response. You couldn’t at least flatter me a little, my dear? Say how wonderful I am and how happy you are to hear my voice? ”

Again, that stupid tone in his voice that gave off the impression of superiority and mockery. She grasped the hat stand tighter.

“Are you, perhaps, stuck? Need assistance to get where you’re going?”

“I….” She would have preferred to have found her way without having to resort to this creep’s help, but the pounding of her head and the haze in her brain already made her forget how many turns she made.

Was it supposed to be two lefts and a right? Or two rights and a left?

“….Yes…” She breathed, worn out, “Yes, I need help.”

“As you wish.”

The door nearest to her swung open and a suit of armor appeared. A moving suit of armor, naturally.

“Because why not…?” She muttered under her breath.

She didn’t immediately figure out why he summoned a moving suit of armor until it took a swing at her hat stand with an axe.

The sound of the top of the hat stand being sliced through and clattering to the floor had a semi sobering effect on her. She jumped to attention, and barely managed to dodge as another swing came for her head.

“You said helping! This isn’t helping!”

She careened down the hall, the suit of armor in hot pursuit.

“Ah, but it’s helping you move, isn’t it?”

“I hate you,” she seethed under her breath, “For once, can you not be a little piece of—“

She was interrupted when a wall suddenly materialized in her way.

“Tsk, tsk. Good mortals watch their language.”

She fumed, angry tears in her eyes, but gave no further reply. She had to duck again as another axe swing came her way.

Down a different hallway. Left. Right again. Was she going the correct way? The hallways were getting quieter. No longer could she hear the chorus of people laughing and screaming. That couldn’t be a good sign.

She stumbled against the wall, picking herself up just long enough to turn around the next corner. Another hallway filled with creaky wooden floors and seemingly endless darkness.

But she didn’t have time to think or even consider that the corridor that lay in front of her was worse than the one behind.

She had to keep moving forward.

And forward.

And--

Something suddenly slammed into her. She stepped back, dazed at first, only to feel in front, anxiety growing, and confirmed it: A wall.

“Dead end?”

A taunt and a chuckle as she frantically grasped around in the darkness for some hope of a door.

She could feel him. More and more it was becoming as if he had a tangible presence. The longer she stood in that one spot, the colder she grew and the more pronounced the sensation crept down her spine.

She had a feeling that it wasn’t just out of fear; there was something about being near the self-proclaimed ‘Ghost Host’ that made her feel like icy fingers were gently clawing down her back. Needless to say, it was none too pleasant a feeling.

She couldn’t see. There were still leftovers of tears in her eyes and her pounding head was still making it hard to think, but that mattered very little when the hallway itself was so dark. There were shapes in the shadows creeping towards her, but she had no way of knowing if one of them was the armor. They moved and danced to give the darkness an almost liquid appearance.

And they were coming closer.

And CLOSER.

AND–

A door banged open right near her, jolting her from her helpless staring. She felt something else moving in the darkness, something that was distinctively different.

Quite suddenly, her mouth was full with the taste of….licorice?

“What,” A different voice, low and deep and angry “in Blue Heavens is all this racket?!”

She could actually see a little better in the doorway, as the man was illuminated a bit from some unseen light from within. Somewhat tall with a fine cut suit, he gave off the airs of an extremely influential individual.

His eyes.

Unlike the statue’s. Unlike the coffin man’s. Unlike the wallpaper woman’s.

He did NOT have milky white eyes. He had pupils.

They were as blue and as beautiful as always. Perhaps even more so than she’d seen in the memories or even in his portrait.

And he was standing before her now.

Solomon Gracey.

#fanfiction #haunted mansion fanfiction #the haunted mansion fanfiction #fanfics #my fanfiction

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gguksgalaxy · 6 years

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V. Sloth | Horror!Au

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›› Au: Horror / Gore (non canon) ›› Genre: Angst ›› Rating: 18+ explicit (sexual content + violence) ›› Characters: BTS + Reader x PJM ›› Word Count: 3.3k Warnings Include: Psychological distress and manipulation, character death, mild and severe injuries, self sacrifice, fractures, non-con drug usage, paralysis, needles.

You scrambled up. “Guys come one!” you called, going towards Jungkook to help him up. Hoseok and Jin were helping Yoongi up who was limping and groaning in pain. There was blood running down his face, from his eyebrow and his lips, one of his eyes swollen past proportion. It made you sick to your stomach to see him like that.

Jungkook leant on you a little, and you felt him sway probably because he was dizzy from the impact to his eye. You wrapped an arm around his waist, helping him towards the door. You trusted Namjoon in getting Jimin through the door.

The two of you passed through the door and you looked back briefly to find Namjoon trying to comfort a crying Jimin with blood stained hands. You wanted to call out for him, but when he looked up at you, you stopped. The sneer he gave you, the hatred, it hurt.

You turned your back to him, pulling Jungkook along and entering the next room. Yoongi was sat in a corner, Hoseok trying to wipe away some of the blood on his face. You sat Jungkook down, who closed his eyes for a moment just as Jimin and Namjoon stumbled in.

“Here.” You took Jimin’s jacket and grabbed the seems, splitting away the inner lining and then tearing off part of the sleeve. The rest you threw towards Jin. “Use this. Namjoon give me the bottle.”

He gave Jimin a stern looks before handing you the bottle. You poured a little onto the fabric, letting it soak in. When you looked up at Jungkook, there was blood pooling at his lashline. “Oh my god, Jungkook.” You softly pressed the fabric against his eye, trying to soothe most of the ache. Briefly, you pulled away to check him. “This is going to hurt, but I just want to see.” Gently, you took your fingers and pulled his eye open a little. Immediately, blood ran down his cheek and he winced. His whole eye was dark red, bleeding from the trauma. “Can you see?”

Jungkook tried to close his other eyes. “It’s very foggy but it’s not like…gone?”

“Okay, here.” You pressed the wet cloth against his skin again.

Namjoon was whispering something to Jimin, and you briefly looked at Yoongi, who met your gaze and mouthed something. You frowned, and he mouthed again…it seemed like ‘sorry’. You gasped lightly, and swallowed away the tears.

So you mouthed back; ‘it’s okay’.

“Well, what a surprise. I never expected that from you y/n. You really had me fooled as well.” The voice said, and you swallowed thickly. “But welcome! Welcome to the room of Acedia. This is where the procrastinators will suffer for their sins. People like this are lazy, good for nothing, lounging around while they could do better things, while others are working themselves dead day to day. Do you realise how hard some people have it while you’re just being dumb? Not all of us are blessed enough with rich parents or innate talents that let us live an easy life.

“ You know, in hell, those who are punished for this sin are dropped in a snake pit. I considered it you know, snakes are beautiful creatures. However, it would be a bit erratic now wouldn’t it? There’s a chance that too many of you would die at once and I really don’t want that. So I incorporated the snakes somewhere else in the game! Remember the poison inside your bracelets? It’s actual snake venom! Meaning that it wont be an easy and quick death. It’ll burn, immobilise you, and then it will stop your heart.

“Now, for Acedia, also known as Sloth. Not the animal though. The player who shall condone for this sin has one simple task.” The intercom cut out, and you held your breath. No comment came, and you just sat there with Jungkook.

“HEY!” Jimin called, voice hoarse and broken. “SPEAK UP YOU FUCKER!”

The intercom crackled a little for a while, and you sat down next to Jungkook. He leant his head on your shoulder, and you felt almost as if he was colder now. He shivered, and you caught Jimin’s eye, who looked at you, then at Jungkook, only to turn away.

“Y/n?” Jungkook whispered.

“Hmm?”

“You and Yoongi, have you really?” he asked, and you took his hand, squeezing it.

“Shh Kook, shh.” You had no idea whether he was listening to you, whether there were hidden microphones or something.

You’d just lost a friend and your boyfriend in the span of maybe 2 hours. There was no telling how much time had past, but it felt like it was ages since you’d seen the light. Everything was coming down around you. Yoongi could barely walk, Jungkook was at risk of loosing an eye, and who knew what was to come for you.

Then the intercom clapped again. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, I seemed to have lost the connection. But we’re all back on track!” The little girl squealed. “For Sloth. The player who choses to take on the task gets one simple task. Do not, at any time, pass through the door.” What? Someone had to willingly stay behind? “Once you have entered the code the locker will open and you will be presented with a syringe. Inject the liquid from the syringe into your bloodstream and wait for it to take effect. The others may leave anywhere within the 70 minute timespan that starts from the moment the locker opens. But it’s essential that the others do leave before the time ends. The chosen player may not pass through the door. He, or she, is to stay behind.”

Someone had to willingly inject something into their body and stay behind while the others left. “This is so you can experience what it’s like to be in a situation where you want to act, but you can’t. Instead of having to act, but not doing so.”

“The code Acedia is 815. Your seven minutes decision time starts now. Hurry up!” The sound cut out and you looked around. Jimin was purposely avoiding your gaze, and Yoongi was laying in Hoseok’s lap with his eyes closed. He looked small and tired like that.

“Don’t look at him like that.” Jimin snarled.

You sighed deeply. “You can’t tell me what to do Jimin. Let’s all try and stay ca-.”

“STAY CALM?!” He yelled. “You want me to stay calm while I just found out you fucked two, maybe more of my friends behind my back. I loved you y/n, I was ready to start a life with you. I was going to propose soon you know, Taehyung helped me pick out a ring.” He scoffed, but you saw the tears in his eyes. “Fuck you y/n.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, you didn’t know what to do.

Jin knelt down beside you, touching your shoulder. “We have to decide.”

You nodded. “Yeah, of course. I mean, we can randomise. Or I can stay, I’m creating too much of trouble for all of you after last time.”

“Let Yoongi stay.” Jimin said.

“JIMIN!” Hoseok yelled. “STOP IT!” he sounded angrier than you expected to ever hear from him.

Jungkook moved from his spot by your side, and you watched him stand up and dust of his jeans. “I’m staying.” He said, voice steady and sure.

“What?” Namjoon gasped. “Jungkook no, listen I’m not letting you sacrifice yourself.”

The youngest shook his head. “No, listen. I don’t want to get out of here. If I die here that’s fine. Because I don’t want to walk this god forsaken earth with the idea that I killed taehyung so all of us could live. I can’t, I don’t want to.” He looked down at his feet. “Please let me stay. If it means all of you get to go and live, I’ll do it. You won’t have to feel guilty because it was my own decision. Please just…let me do this.”

You stared at Jungkook, you wanted to tell him no, that he couldn’t just sacrifice himself. But the harsh truth was that you didn’t want to be in his position. Not to stay behind nor to have killed Taehyung. He hadn’t been himself since, which was, honestly understandable. Jimin always said he wasn’t one to easily cry or be down over things, he was a happy kid so to speak. And he’s just been crying, and you didn’t think it would pass.

Jungkook walked over to the locker in the corner of the room and sat down in front of it. “None of you guys can stop me unless you want to stay behind yourself. Because I have to put in the 999 code, so you can’t randomise without me.”

Nobody stopped him, everyone silently watched the youngest of the group twist the numbers until it said 8, 1, 5, and it clicked. There was a beep and the locker opened, everyone just stared. He reached inside, and pulled out a capped syringe, filled with a murky yellow fluid.

“Jungkook?” Jin knelt down beside him, mushing up his almost black hair and pulling him into a hug. It was like something snapped inside of him, he broke, dropping the needle to the floor and hugging Jin as sobs wrecked through his frame. He was a big guy, Jungkook, he and Jimin went to the gym regularly, and in the few years you’d known him he’d really grown up. But to see him like this, crying broken, it made you reach out for him. It made you walk over to the other two, pick up the syringe and put it down on top of the locker.

You put a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, and he detached himself from Jin to look at you. “Y/n?” he mumbled. You softly smiled at him, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s alright Kook.” You whispered. “It’s going to be alright.”

“I just want it to go away.” He cried, the tears from his swollen eye still a little coloured with blood. “It hurts.”

You sighed, reaching for his hand. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

The others came around, sitting with Kook, smiling at him, saying little things that were between them and you didn’t understand. He smiled up at them, he even laughed a little with Hoseok. Stories with Yoongi turned up that you had no idea about, things involving a piano, singing, long nights together at Yoongi’s apartment. Old tales of Jin tutoring him in maths and economics, getting pizza and sitting in Jin’s room with books open and dozens of empties cans of energy drinks.

You sat with them, listened, cried. Jungkook hugged you, held you close, apologised to you. You whispered something into his ear, that you weren’t sure he heard.

He looked at you after that, and nodded, then diverted his gaze towards Jimin. Your boyfriend, if you could still call him that, was sitting in the far corner of the room by himself. He was hugging his knees to his chest, and his eyes were bloodshot and swollen from crying. “Jimin.” Jungkook called out.

Jimin looked up, but didn’t move.

“Jimin come here.” But he didn’t move. “Jimin please!” Jungkook almost cried, and stood up, walked over to Jimin and tried to sit down with him. Jimin however, pushed him away, roughly, and sneered a comment you couldn’t fully understand. “Jimin, come on.”

“You fucked my girlfriend, what do you want from me?!” he yelled.

Jungkook almost staggered back at the comment, and you were so afraid he was going to rat you out for the lie, that you walked over and stepped in.

“Listen.” You said to Jimin. “You’re angry, you feel betrayed, I get it. What happened, happened, and it was wrong. Me and Yoongi, that’s a discussion for another day. But Jungkook, he’s your best friend, and me and Yoongi basically talked him into it. We did push him a little, so please just forgive him. He’s your best friend Jimin, this is probably the last time you’ll see him. Do you really want it to be like this?” you said, and Jimin stared at you with wide eyes. “You’re going to regret that decision.”

You watched tears fall from Jimin’s eyes as he moved over to Jungkook and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. They held each other, and you realised then, Jimin was about to loose his other best friend. You were somewhat convinced that Jimin’s trust in you was broken beyond repair even if you convinced I’m that you’d lied to him.

“When do you think the doors will open?” Namjoon asked, touching your arm to catch your attention.

You frowned. “Probably from the moment he injects the stuff.” You wondered what was inside the syringe, and your mind could come up with a few torturous scenarios that you hoped weren’t true.

Jungkook moved across the room again and picked up the syringe from the locker. “Do you guys mind if I already just…kind of do it? I’m afraid of doing it when I’m alone. I don’t want something weird to happen and that to hold you guys back when you have to go through the door.”

You nodded, and everyone agreed, taking place in the corner by the locker. Everyone was growing hungry, and cold, and thirsty and looking for each other for warmth and comfort. For some reason you actually found yourself with Namjoon, the soft material of the bear onesie he was wearing was nice against your skin. You were never close, but you knew he was such a nice and genuine guy. He’s stayed over at Jimin a few times, and he’s made a reputation of being a bad cook.

Everyone looked at the youngest as he sat cross legged and uncapped the needle. His hangs were trembling so hard that you had trouble properly seeing the needle. “Do I just stab this in?”

You shook your head. “You don’t want to accidentally break the needle or something.”

“Does it matter? I’m going to die anyways.” He said, and you were taken aback.

“Listen.” Yoongi said, his voice was barely distinguishable through his swollen face. Jimin really had gotten him good. “He said into the bloodstream, so I think stabbing would be a wrong decision. Let one of us do it.”

You nodded. “Here, give it to me.”

“You know how to do this?”

“No, but I have steady hands.” You took the syringe from him and grabbed his arm. “Sit still.” The needle was long and thin, and you held him close to his elbow as you pressed it into his skin. You’d never done this before, and it was weirding you out, but you pressed on at an angle. It was sharp, gliding in after the first piercing of the skin that made your skin crawl. You pushed the liquid in, looking as it disappeared. When you pulled it out, a little bit of blood pooled on his skin but he wiped it away.

Then you sat, watching him, waiting for something to happen. He stood up, walked around, jumped, nothing much seemed wrong with him. Until he moved back towards you, and suddenly his legs gave out from underneath him. His knees his the concrete with a sick crack and he screamed in pain. The boys scrambled up, trying to catch him, and you were there next to him when he fell. He supported his weight on his arms. “My legs.” He said through gritted teeth. “I can’t move.”

“Can you feel them?” Namjoon asked, touching Jungkook’s calves.

“Yeah, fuck.” Then his arms started shaking, and you grabbed for him, pulling him closer to you before he fell down further. Everyone saw him deteriorate in seconds. Suddenly he was there, laying in your lap, with his eyes wide open, breathing harshly through his nose, unmoving.

He didn’t speak. There were garbled little sounds coming from his lips that were almost like he couldn’t make a sound anymore. It was a muscle relaxer. Tears were running down his cheeks, and you tried your best to comfort him by stroking your fingers through his hair. His eyes were shaking, going between each of the boys as he laid there, helpless.

Then the click, and the beep, from the door sounded, and it slid open. You all watched it, but you all looked back at Jungkook. He was going to have to lay here, waiting for time to tell whether he was going to be here still or not. He was literally going to have to wait for this venom to take over his lungs or heart, if it did that. It might not act upon those nerves, for all you knew, he could lay here until he died of dehydration. You’d never know.

Jimin was holding his hand, tightly, until his knuckles turned white, and you weren’t sure if it was hurting Jungkook. You realised he maybe couldn’t even close his eyes.

“Jungkook?” Jin said, his voice sudden and small in the room. “I’m so sorry. I don’t want to leave you here like this. This…I can’t.” He shook his head, looking at the others. “I’ll stay.”

“No!” hoseok cried. “You can’t just stay.”

“You want to leave him like this? At least Taehyung got a clean death.” Jin cried. “Look at him.”

Yoongi spat blood out on the floor. “Is there anything else we could do? We can all sit here and be with him until we all die. But it would’ve been for nothing. We have to keep moving.”

You felt Jungkook’s heartbeat, underneath the corner of his jaw. It was so rapid, way too fast, and at this rate he might pass out. Which was for the best maybe. “I’ll stay until the timer goes. I don’t want to unnecessarily leave him alone for too long.” You continued brushing your fingers through his hair. “Taehyung would’ve done that.”

So everyone waited, making small comments, Jimin hummed a soft tune as held Jungkook’s hand. You watched him lay down across from him, looking him in the eyes with tears that just continued to fall. Jin rubbed Jungkook’s back, trying to soothe him and yoongi sat with Hoseok. Namjoon was beside you, playing with the sleeve of his onesie.

Jungkook was such a sweet guy, maybe a little shy at times, and he didn’t deserve this. He killed Taehyung, because his friend begged him to. And now he was staying behind, like this, it couldn’t get worse than this. No pain could be worse than staying behind like this waiting to die.

Then the timer started ticking, suddenly, nobody moved. Everyone stared at Jungkook, who’s eyes slowly slipped closed. The fact that he closed his eyes, almost gave you peace, he wouldn’t have to stare ahead at the door knowing what could’ve been. Maybe he could fall asleep, and maybe even not wake up.

You lifted his head off your lap and felt almost bad about having to put it down on the concrete floor, when Namjoon nudged you.

“Here.” He’s ripped the big hood of his onesie, the bear head, and had folded it up. You watched him slip it under Jungkook’s head.

Jimin grabbed what remained of his jacket, and placed it over Jungkook’s body, in the hope of keeping him warm. “Bye Kookie.” He whispered.

You looked at him, leaning down to press your lips against his temple briefly. Not something you ever thought you’d do, but this was not a time to dwell on those things. “Rest well.” You mumbled.

Everyone whispered a goodbye, as if saying it out loud would make it too real.

Then you all turned your back on him, and passed through the door without looking back.

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reviewape-blog · 5 years

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Power Guide For Women | Empowering Women Through Self Improvement

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Fast-forward a few months to a conversation with my father, a doctor, who told me that a patient of his was surprised to learn I was his daughter. If he had known this, “I would have given her the ‘A’ she deserved. She was the best and brightest there. I didn’t, because every other student needed an A – they needed them for grad schools and well, they were men.” I just got angry again revisiting that bit of chauvinistic crap that really is a part of American culture. So, University of Pennsylvania, if you want to go back and change my grade, I’ll take it. I’m taking it back from the dumb blonde jokes page, the stereotypes, the misogyny, and bringing it up front and in your face with all its built in cognitive dissonance. I’m taking it back for all of us who have been stereotyped for any reason of hair color, skin color, accent, or anything else. The paradox of any group singled out as the target of a joke is that some of the jokes really are funny. 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rebeccahpedersen · 6 years

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If I Could Change Just One Thing On MLS…

TorontoRealtyBlog

…oh, the difference it would make!

I’m not sure which of the following better describes today’s blog post: a) Opening a can of worms. b) Opening Pandora’s box.

I’d like to think it’s the former, but when dealing with the topic of organized real estate and the governance therein, you just never know where the conversation is going to take you…

The concept along is just a fool’s errand, right?

Try to pick one thing about MLS that you could change.

One could literally lose their mind trying to narrow down from a list of six-hundred-something…

MLS is not perfect; far from it, in fact. What started as an absolutely ingenious invention, has now basically allowed modern technology to pass it by, through inactivity, indecision, and dare I say – fear of change.

I’m not here today to delve into a conversation about MLS and its ongoing legal battles, however. I simply want to take MLS as given, and discuss the one thing that bothers me the most about it, and the one thing I could change.

There are a lot of features we could add to MLS that would incorporate, that would provide a better user experience. That’s a whole other topic!

But there are so many changes we could implement on MLS, right now, virtually at the push of the button, that would immediately offer consumers, as well as agents, more information.

Case in point, when uploading “attachments” to MLS (ie. schedules, floor plans, surveys, financials, etc), we are capped at a mere 750 KB.

Why?

I mean, I understand the cap itself. TREB has thousands of listings, and I’m sure they can’t allow everybody to upload 1 gigabyte videos.

But why 750 KB? That’s such an insanely-small file size in 2018.

You can take a photo with your iPhone, and it’ll be 3 MB.

I know the attachments aren’t for photos; they’re for documents. But a high-resolution scan of a new survey for a freehold property could be 10 MB. Instead, we take the file, shrink it, reduce the quality, and offer that to people instead.

What the hell is the point of this?

Ask any member of TREB why we couldn’t increase the allowable uploads for attachments from 750 KB to 3MB, tomorrow, and you probably wouldn’t get a straight answer.

In my experience with TREB, they are very slow to implement change.

I served on exactly one committee at the Toronto Real Estate Board, and it was back in 2009-2010, I believe. It was called the “Ad Hoc Condo Committee,” or some such nonsense. Our mandate was to “provide recommendations to TREB,” which by description alone, tells you how little power we had.

Week after week, we’d meet, discuss problems, find solutions, and propose changes.

And all the while, there was no guarantee (or probability, in my opinion…) that those changes would be reviewed, adopted, and implemented by TREB.

When I was on the Condo Committee, the one thing that bothered me the most was how “square footage” was treated on listings for condos.

Back in 2010, the square footage “field” on MLS was not a mandatory field.

Imagine that, eh?

Imagine selling a condo, and not being required to say how large it was.

It boggles the mind.

Here’s a listing from 2006, and you can clearly see there is no requirement to fill in the “Sqft Range” field:

That’s right, just leave it blank!

Who cares how many square feet a condo is, right?

We know it has one bedroom, one bathroom, and beyond that, everything is basically the same…

My other issue with the square footage situation on MLS was that the ranges were too broad!

The old ranges were absurd.

Have a look at the following two listings, also from 2006:

–

Wow!

One of the ranges was actually less than 700 sqft.

It’s like they grouped everything under 700 square feet together; no difference, nothing to see here, folks!

And as you climbed the ladder, it didn’t get much better.

700 – 1100 was a field. Think of how absurd that was! With condo prices around $800/sqft in the downtown core today, imagine not being able to narrow the search by any more than 400 square feet.

I believe the next field was 1100 – 1500, then 1500 – 2000, and I can’t recall after that.

I’m happy to say, and actually rather proud to report, that I spearheaded the change to this nonsense back in 2009, and we did bring about two important changes to MLS:

1) The square footage range became mandatory. 2) The square footage ranges were narrowed.

The fields as they stand today are:

0-499 500-599 600-699 700-799 800-899 900-999 1000-1199 1200-1399 1400-1599 1600-1799 1800-1999 2000-2249 2250-2499 2500-2749 2750-2999 3000-3249 3250-3499 3500-3749 3750-3999 4000-4249 4250-4499 4500-4749 4750-4999 5000+

But there was one more change I tried to bring about almost a decade ago, that was met with resistance: making EXACT square footage mandatory.

To me, it was a no-brainer. Why not make it mandatory?

Making the “range” field mandatory, and shrinking the ranges themselves, merely represented a good start.

But why stop there?

I failed to understand why we never required an exact number to begin with.

The argument, of course, is a legal one.

What constitutes exact square footage? Who’s the source? What liabilities are associated? What if there’s a discrepancy? And so on.

At the time, I fully understood why TREB didn’t go for the idea, and I support their decision.

But today, in 2018, I think it’s time we address this.

The concept of not having exact square footage on MLS is comical, if you compare it to other products or services.

Imagine buying a used car, but not knowing how many KM are on it?

Would you buy a “box” of donuts, not knowing if there were six, or two-dozen?

Shouldn’t we, as Realtors, hold ourselves to a higher standard than saying a condo is “600-699” square feet?

The solution, in my mind, is simple, and it comes from our trusted friends at the Municipal Property Assessment Corporation.

MPAC has a database of essentially every condo in the city, and they have what’s called a “Residential Floor Area Report” for each unit.

MPAC is obviously in business to make money, and thus they offer this report to us at a fee of $5.00+HST, for each unit.

Having just done my 2017 taxes last week, I can tell you that I pulled 167 MPAC reports last year, at a cost of $943.55. Those reports were both for my own listings, as well as for properties I was looking at for buyers. And sometimes, when you just really need to know the square footage of a property (often it was for a Comparative Market Analysis for a prospective seller; looking up other comparable units in their building), you just splurge and spend the five bucks.

Here’s what your typical MPAC report looks like:

I’ve deleted the address, obviously, but you get the picture.

If this is available for virtually every condominium unit in the city, then why doesn’t TREB either make the exact square footage mandatory, and encourage Realtors to spend the whopping $5.00, or, maybe, just maybe, negotiate with MPAC directly for a package deal.

I don’t know what it would cost, or how a deal would look, but it’s too easy to ignore.

And the alternative – continuing to list condos for sale without exact square footage, is simply not an option in 2018.

I understand the liabilities, and I know that if MPAC says a unit is 885 square feet, and the original builder’s plan says the unit is 895 square feet, a discrepancy, and potential dispute, could arise.

But even if a discrepancy existed, at least you’d know what MPAC says. I’m sure some legalese could take care of the liability, and then we’d have a level playing field, across the board. Every unit on MLS has an exact square footage, from the same source.

For a closer look at the current ridiculous of the square footage field on MLS, and how it’s bastardized, read my 2012 blog post: “Square Footage Remarks on MLS.”

Instead of making up nonsense for the “source” of the square footage (as you’ll see in the blog post), like “seller,” or “measurements,” or even just an “XX” that avoids addressing the field altogether, maybe using MPAC as the source for all listings, and having the square footage sourced from the same place for every listing, makes sense.

For what its worth, when I list a condominium for sale, I upload the MPAC report as an attachment so buyer agents have not only an exact square footage, but also a source. It helps their buyers make an informed decision, and it costs me five goddam dollars.

I don’t know why all agents aren’t doing this.

But if I was at the helm of TREB for one day, or if I had the ability to wave a magic wand and change just one thing about the current MLS system, there’s no question – this would be it…

The post If I Could Change Just One Thing On MLS… appeared first on Toronto Real Estate Property Sales & Investments | Toronto Realty Blog by David Fleming.

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horrible-monstrosity · 6 years

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Adventures in reviewing games I haven't actually played

so it took me something to figure out why i really didn't like danganronpa, and that something was 9 doors 9 people 9 etc. i'm totally not just salty that chihiro dies early, r e a l l y

to begin with without even comparing I can already say Danganronpa is visually... terrible. The characters look mildewed, for lack of a better term. The backgrounds are clunky as shit, weirdly proportioned, brightly colored eyesores. Usually I'm pretty down for thing in weird unrealistic reality-breaking styles, but this just looks like... chunky ass...

Next, the characters... aside from looking completely unappealing, they're all bizarre unlikable stereotypes. I remember seeing someone claiming that's the "point", that the characters seem like stereotypes and treat each other like stereotypes because you supposed to get to know them and then you care when they die, and also they barely interact with each other because only you know their true selves because it's a deep meaning thing about stereotypes, but... it kinda doesn't seem like they actually manage to get beyond that. And also then of course they eventually die and then they stop developing. But we'll get to that. On the other hand, compare that to the 999 characters... it's a vibrant cast of tropey but still fairly unique characters with nice eyecatching designs. You get a taste of their personalities immediately via first the main guy's stupid little nicknames for them all and then through their reactions to his little snap assessment of them. Throughout the game they banter with and bounce off each other and continue being vibrant lovable characters and it's fucking beautiful. You could probably compare it to Higurashi with the great contrast between the characters dicking around with each other and the deeply serious and horrifying moments... hah, no wonder I liked 999 so much P:

And the final problem is that, and this is gonna sound really fuckin stupid for a sec, it's that people keep fucking dying in Danganronpa. No, really, lemme explain. So first off characters are slated to die regularly not only to fuel the court thing but as a direct result of it. If you're expecting at least two characters to die ever chapter or arc, it becomes routine. Plus the fact that the murders are slightly contrived- just put a bunch of people in a building and be like "lol kill each other", and instead of outright fighting and rioting you get single distinct clean murder events? It's fucking weird.

The other problem is, if you introduce a cast of characters we're all supposed to like and put them in mortal danger, people're gonna want to see them all come out alive somehow. DR addresses this with... a deus ex machina where you can get the key to the fucking exit out of a vending machine at the start of the game and just fucking leave. lol whut I dunno, maybe that was in one of the other games, not the first one which is the only one I ever bothered to even try watching. But the point is, the writers/designers decided to pander to the audience, but instead of thinking it out and allowing you to maybe affect events somehow I don't fucking know they went with a fucking stupid magic plot token.

In 999 meanwhile, while there's indications you've taken the wrong path long before you get to the killin', the whole point is to get as many people as possible out alive, so that problem is nipped in the bud. Not only does that lead to a more satisfying good ending, the bad ends are a wild fucking ride of bloodshed and death and it's fucking amazding okay

I... I dunno, man, the things just bug me.

... But as it turns out, that whole thing was just prologue to me bitching about 999's inferior sequel Virtue's Last Reward!

So VLR is like... basically, it's like if the writers decided to do exactly the same thing as the first game but amped up to eleven, and put no thought into it beyond that.

Immediately out of the gate you can tell the characters just aren't up to snuff. Compared to 999, the group introduction is just... like, there? It's like, oh, here's a person, here's a person. It's pretty weak compared to its predecessor. And then robot comes in with unconscious Clover because why. As far as I can tell, there's no reason for her to be unconscious except le drama, and in exchange... well, her character introduction is even weaker than everyone else's. Because she's unconscious and can't do shit. Her character and the writing are undermined for nothing of any worth. I mean maybe they'll hack up a reason for it later, but I really doubt it'll be as good as say June collapsing with a fever whenever you made a bad choice in 999, for two reasons. For one it's just... a one-trait plot point. June's collapses are interesting because, as it turns out, she has a fever then because she's literally burning up in another timeline. But Clover is just... out cold. Just that. It's literally a boilerplate sitcom drama trope. It's nothing. And then secondly it only happened once with no apparent cause so even bothering to explain it would be a waste of fucking time. So I almost hope it's never explained or even referred to again, except that's still stupid so I guess we're just fucked either way huh?

After that, the game's own design prevents anything like the interactions between groups in 999 by forcing the cast off into minimal itty bitty little groups of three. Man, that just damages it. There's very little of the cast interacting with... well, each other. Yeah sure you get to see enough of each character individually throughout the story branches when you pair up with them but they really don't feel genuine as a group. It's really lacking.

Oh, but then we can get into something that's just the pinnacle-example of the writing problems with VLR... the door-choosing scenes. Just... no, oh no... Every single damn one of them... there's a time limit. The characters know damn well there's a time limit, but they manage to get right up to the very last second boringly agonizingly going over every single combination of who makes what color... then boringly arguing over who goes which what... one time they literally just turn to mister main character at the last second and tell you to choose and they all just go with it because lolwritinghowdoidothisshitfuckingkillme In 999 meanwhile, a lot of the group/door deciding scenes *start off* with characters laying out who they do or absolutely don't want to group up with, or with characters picking out which door they want, and *then* trying to work out groups... you know, the *characters* take precedence rather than the look at muh clever plot mechanics u guise did u know that basic colors? The main character being the arbiter because he's a conduit for the player's input was done much more naturally, usually due to you being the tiebreaker vote or the like. And yes, once they get through the doors there's a silly little time limit thing while they run around looking for the second bracelet thing, but it's given much less focus so it's fine. Ugh... it's just, it's so painful to watch this game trying to go through the motions of its predecessor so exactly (the characters must choose a group for the doors but there's conflict!!) and still failing so hard. It's not so much the same motions as it is following the same path by writhing along the floor and occasionally sticking its ass in the air and screeching.

Mechanically, 999's "morphic resonance" and its interaction with the player's ability to replay scenarios with different choices is... one-for-one replaced with a much more generic and obvious concept that's then massively overused. In 999 morphic resonance is very much a unique trait of the narrative- it's built up to with various odd stories and conversations, based on events both real and invented, leading to the climactic moments where it's first revealed to be the lynchpin of the entire story and then used to save day. Not to mention it's a concept I don't think I've ever heard of outside of the game. It's pretty fucking fascinating, I'm saying.

In VLR meanwhile it's just like... hey, guys, quantum mechanics! Every second of every day, it's quantum mechanics!... But guys, guys, did I mention... quantum mechaniiiiiiiiiiiicfs- meh. Seriously, I'm... almost entirely sure I've seen a branching paths story use quantum mechanics to be "meta" with the fact that the game you're playing has the game mechanics in it before. It's basically baby's first smart-sounding complicated science thing that everyone basically already has a basic idea of (entanglement and spooky distance and shit).

But to make up for underdoing it on the actual ideas front, they decide to just massively overuse it. Nearly ever fucking "ending" I've seen so far has been "ha ha go quantum fuck yourself in another branch before you know how to do this one". Apparently only two endings out of go fuck yourself so many can actually be obtained from the start, and there's no real indication of which path you should take to get them (and it is *should* take unless you think perpetual bullshit and disappointment is some sort of necessary game and story feature). There's one fucking "ending" where the way out is to just fucking immediately go back a scene and watch it again. Just one. It's the one where Alice stabs herself, which happens in other timelines (or she tries to anyway) but only in this one do you do this thing because... it's a fucking misused overused gimmick! And look how clever we are in this single idea- what, polishing it? lol nope man go fuck yaself! aaaaaaaaaauuhghg- Also, you'd think *someone* would have thought "man all this quantum connectedness bullshit sure never happened to me in my normal life, I wonder what changed?" Again this isn't a problem in 999 at all because they use it sparingly instead of spamming it all over the place. Instead we get people wondering if the entire fucking universe outside of the box they're trapped in isn't the REAL shcrodinger's box *sarcastic mind blown ptcheeeeeww*

And then this is all just boilerplated on over the original Nonary game concept. Like, why does it still have to be the number nine? You're talking about quantum pairs and the binary between ally and betray, but the quantum entanglement system has to be awkwardly grafted onto the group of nine by having only some of them pair up and aaaaahksdjhguhdkhgkjdhgudrhg Why not change it to something relevant, like a power of two?

... No, seriously, let me just fix this entire setup in a hot fucking second. Let me introduce to you... THE BINARY GAME. So to fucking start off with you have eight characters, or fuck it have sixteen of them. If you want to "sequelify" things compared to the previous game just go fucking whole hog into it. Besides, having more characters might help with having smaller groups interacting at a time. So now your smaller groups are... larger. Anyway, you have eight or sixteen or maybe fifteen characters (because something zero indexing). They're quantum paired off and made to share their "destiny" or whatever the rabbit said (basically forced to ally regardless of how much they might dislike each other). Those pairs then pair off with another pair for the puzzle rooms who they can choose to betray/ally later on, forming a double standard of sorts that could be interesting. If you go with fifteen characters, the "zero"th one is the one missing (because of course). The 15th or whoever ends up without a partner has some dead relative/loved one as a backstory element and are particularly lonely or isolated, or are seen as suspicious by the others, but this is just thematic/a red herring and they aren't connected to New Zero.

And after you've got all that sorted have Alice-standin stabbing herself and you undoing it be the first significant quantum bullshit event that happens, effectively serving as a tutorial moment instead of shoehorned "look how clever I am u guise" bullshit.

After that, all the bullshit about "but what if humans are the real robot??" can be actually tied into the "binary" theme- New Zero's trying to make the "point" that if you boil a person's thoughts and feelings down to only two options (the prisoner's dilemma game) it supposedly becomes predictable, and all humans are just meat robots and shit. This is probably delivered in an extremely cynical way, like that people who'll always betray are proof humans are all evil and people who always ally are overly trusting fools. And people who'll ally or betray depending on the opponent or the situation, well they're just etc etc The player's ability to go back in time and change their choice is a "shrodinger's cat", in that no matter what you do the bunny will claim he knew you'd do that all along. And of course the final statement of this thing is that if you accept all the complexities of le human you'd see they're so much more than roburts. And then you just fucking play with the concepts. Binary numbers, binary options, binary pairs, quantum particle entanglement, going beyond two options like some quantum computing shit, do the gender binary by making Luna a trap, whatever! And for the endings you have like two or three or four that lead to "true" endings and are "to be continued" off if you don't get some of the bad endings and find out things first. You know, instead of the opposite of that.

Look, there, I fucking fixed it. fucking hell

What else can I bitch about?... Well, there's some just dumb shit like the one time some of them found a HWACKEY QHWACKEY AUSTRALIAN ROBURT that talked about deep philosophical shit with a wacky accent! Or it tries to, anyway, all it says is some boilerplate I'm-14-and-this-is-deep shit about how *maybe you're the robots* because... like, your arms move, or something. Seriously, that's it. And it just goes on and on for fucking forever, saying nothing of any fucking value in any of it.

Clover and Alice as far as I can tell are just there as like continuity-bait characters. Like hey guys remember that time we had a good game and these characters were there (or Clover was there and Alice was kinda this... thing)??? Remember how you liked them?? Well, now they're here, too! Effort done, everyone likes the sequel now, we can stop trying. It hasn't been covered in the game yet but apparently Alice's backstory is... fucking stupid. Like, the obscure fictional "all-ice" rumor from the original games that was an invented piece of deepest lore that informed the plot and feel of the game... uh now it's just some rumor everyone knows and kids tease Alice because she was kangs n Alice and shiet. It's like they tried to surpass the most obvious, boring, boilerplate thing they could do with that girl who appeared as a gag at the end of 999 and create a character truly out of nothing. And of course it doesn't fucking mean anything, it's just look at how clever we are obsessing over random shit from out previous success. Did Trigger write this game?

Everyone seems to fucking hate the main character. If you choose to downvote someone everyone gets bitchy at you about it, including Phi who probably told you to do it when she's partnered with you. But if someone downvotes you they're all just like "it's perfectly understandable to look out for yourself I don't know why you're upset lol". If anyone else (so far Quark and Phi) gets 9 post karma, which is what you need to get out of there, they'll just let them wander around because they totally wouldn't abandon us here lol but if you get 9 points they FUCKING MURDER YOU. And this one fucking baffled me for a while- despite loving to go on and on about the most useless of fucking shit all of the fucking time the game decides to not remind you that opening the 9 door kills everyone who doesn't have 9 points yet until fucking forever later (or, given that it's multiple paths, just at some completely random point in the story). So for the longest fucking time it just seems like they decide to kill you out of spite.

Oh, and everyone also seems to also fucking hate Dio. Like, wow, he gets kinda snippy with people and votes "betray" all of like twice in each timeline before people start physically assaulting him to prevent him from voting. It's not like people might get selfish and snippy when they're in a life-and-death situation, nooo, that's not totally understandable at all. Better yet the thing goes on about the prisoner's dilemma as this great big moral... dilemma- oh, do you choose "ally" or you choose "betray"?? oh man the choices!!- but when Dio is just like "fuck it I pick betray" and everyone just goes HOW FUCKING DARE YOU REEEEEEEEEEEEE--- (And yes, I've read the spoilers about him... it sounds absolutely fucking retarded.)

Speaking of which Dio's "I'm a ringleader lol" shctick seems like an entirely weaker imitation of 999's wacky character designs. 999 had characters who were eyecatching but not too over-the-top in appearances, which the main character raised an eyebrow at at the beginning but it becomes strangely normal as you go along. Sounds great, right? Well in VLR we have... ringleader guy for no reason, kid with cinderblocks on his fucking head, Clover and Alice looking FUCKING TERRIBLE... and then completely normal boring designs like old man guy. What the fuck? Seriously, in 999 you look at Lotus and in one second you know she's dressed as a bellydancer. You don't know why she is, but she is. In VLR you look at Alice and she's a... what? She doesn't even look like a stripper like Clover kinda does, she just looks retarded.

#vidya bitching

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