#yellow-computer-mouse quote

[pluralquotebook]

memorializing sebby's fuck typo for all posterity

- 👡🪽 Hermes ✨

.

[ceruark]

alice oh my god. i'm clawing at the walls. i'm gripping the table so hard my fingers hurt. i'm gnawing at my own hand. this is a masterpiece. a hall-of-famer. i feel like you're in my brain or something because the "cannibalism as love" trope is something i'm so insane about and you created this amazing 9k+ word treat. you've really done it this time.

i don't usually give a play-by-play, but for this one, i just have to:

"You sigh in relief when you peek through the hallway and find that you were alone this time in the darkness of the kitchen, the overhead stove light still on to light your way." - the way i started yelling here when i read that the light was on like no you're not alone go back!!! i am a proficient in michael kaiser, he's luring you in, it's a trap ☝️

“I’ll eat your skin and bones. And then your brain and heart.” - i fear this would work on me

"'You’re weird,' you mutter and turn your back to him, retracing your steps to go back upstairs." - lore accurate nine year old ceru response to anything concerning

"'Just for tonight,' you mutter with hushed contempt to him, despite him not being able to answer as you tuck yourself back into your sheets." - the way i started yelling here like no you can't give a mouse a cookie he's gonna ask for milk next what are you doing !!!

"or just intently watching you as you played with your toys (he didn’t seem to be interested in them. He seemed more interested in you and what you’d do.)" - completely normal child behavior by the way

no quote here but i LOVE all the thought you've put into this universe, i was genuinely gripped by your description of how cannibalism starts and the societal response to it, it's really clear how much care you've put into this au and this piece in particular

"'I’d kill every person in this world before I hurt you,' he states to your father’s concern… especially when he notices the quiet mania in the boy’s gaze. '... before I let anything hurt you.'" - more normal child behavior btw but UGGGHHHH i LOVE the way you've written his obsession in this fic it's so so so good especially in this part i'm like banging my fist against my desk repeatedly

"You and Michael were fourteen when it all happened." - i had like a full record scratch moment reading this sentence

"And hovering over her, feasting on the flesh of her body, was your father, mangled and bloody and ravenous." - this moment GOT me like the whole time i was expecting the thing going wrong in this fic to be kaiser but no this had me gaping at my computer and clutching my pearls in shock

"'Doesn’t matter,' he sighs. Michael’s gaze focuses on the shade of yellow the lamp is, feeling the warmth of your body against his, the silent tears that flow from you soaking his shirt. 'I’m still here, aren’t I?'" - hey im like on the ground of my dorm room crying thanks

"oh he dies in this au btw. just so u know" - the agonized sound i let out reading this was so raw that my roommate genuinely thought something serious happened and it DID. alice you are EVIL for this. diabolical. you could have just let this au be isagi and i would've been fine but you had to go make a twisted childhood friends au with kaiser only to TAKE HIM FROM US??? you just want to see me suffer 💔💔💔💔💔

i loved this so much i can't even properly put it into words. 6 out of 5 stars on goodreads. absolute cinema. waiter give the chef my compliments. thank you for the meal

— compulsions.

feat. michael kaiser || wc: 9.0k cw: gn!reader, no pronouns used, non-canon au, childhood friends dark content: cannibal!kaiser, blood, gore, descriptions of cannibalism, unedited as of 04/05 im tired! a/n: prequel to urges (isagi). au will still be isagi-centered, but the dumb blonde got me again and this was ofc way longer than it was suppose to be *shakes fist*

For a child so small, it was astounding how much he was able to devour in one sitting. 

Half the body is gone—the corpse laid facing up, the man’s face still and permanently scarred, eyes wide open and blank and mouth unhinged slightly from shock. The lower half of his body was completely shredded apart, a disgusting pool of blood with the chunks of skin littering the floor and organs completely in disarray, freeing themselves from the compression of the inner body. The legs were nothing but bloodied bones, only the feet’s flesh remaining; half of the man’s torso was nearly obliterated, only a few chunks of spare flesh hanging onto the visible spine and pelvis.

The boy himself was nothing but bones with the sparest of skin attached to them, covering them like a cloth, but somehow, his appetite was ravenous enough to the point where had eaten nearly half of a rather stout man. 

He stares up at the man in the suit, tearing apart a piece and chewing slowly on a veiny clump of red muscle that twitches in the boy’s palm. The body’s heart.

The man smiles down at him, one that the boy only returns with a blank look as he continues eating. 

“You must be hungry.”

Still staring up at him, the boy stays quiet, only opening his mouth to rip off another portion of the bloody heart, tiny baby teeth ripping the meat off, and chewing it again hurriedly, as though it were to disappear. Some blood squirts from the muscle, but the red bleeds into the man’s uniform, the red disappearing into the red pants and black button up. 

The man crouches down at him, eyes softening when he notices the oddly sallow cheeks of the boy, cheeks that should’ve been filled with nourishment and plumped by this age, rosy and chubby. He reaches his hand out, only for the boy to wince and put the hand not holding the heart up. The man pauses, surprised at the behavior.

Eyes closed tightly, the boy lets out a whimper from bloodied lips, a menial hand acting as a tiny shield against something. He’s protecting himself. 

The man murmurs softly, in a tone that seems to be rather foreign to the boy, ��Don’t worry, I’m not here to hurt you.”

The child slowly pries open his eyes, turning his gaze back to the man, who softly smiles at him. He waits, his hand still up just in case. 

Then, the man carefully puts a hand on the boy’s blonde hair (oily, he notices instantly, as though it hadn’t been washed for days). The child shuts his eyes tightly again, but feels the hand go to gently stroke his head, a touch he wasn’t used to. A touch he doesn’t know the meaning of. 

The man watches as the boy opens his eyes again, astounded at the odd, but painless sensation. He gives another smile at him, eyes crinkling at the corner with a twinkle in them.

“Let’s take you home, hm?” the man says to the child, who merely blinks at him.

“His name is Michael,” you hear your father say from your place upstairs, where your parents talk amongst each other in the kitchen as you hide yourself between the bars of the upstairs railings. “Michael, this is my wife.”

You can hear the shuffle of your mother’s skirt as she crouches down. “Hello there, Michael. Welcome to our house. Have you eaten yet?” she inquiries fondly.

You don’t hear a reply, something that makes your brows furrow since that’s not polite to do so. 

“Are you hungry?” your mother asks.

Again, no reply. 

“Do you like any specific foods?” 

“Sweetheart, how about you make him a sandwich?” your father suggests to your mother. “He had eaten earlier at the facility, but I’d hate for him to go to bed starving.”

Your mother affirms his suggestion and goes to tinker with the dishes and supplies in the kitchen. You hope she’s making one of your favorite sandwiches, the one with jam stuffed between Nutella and white bread. 

“I hope you like turkey, Michael,” your mother chimes; you make a face at the food, displeased with her choice. 

Michael. That’s a boy's name. You have a boy named Michael in your class, and another in the class next to you. Perhaps you have a new friend of sorts? But you only meet friends from school, not in your own home, and especially not so late at night.

Curiosity takes over you, and you carefully tiptoe down the stairs, wondering who on earth this Michael was. The kitchen’s light comes brighter and brighter into view as you inch closer, and you just about make it without being seen until you hit a certain point on the wooden planks and the wood creaks out voluminously. 

You freeze, alarmed at the sound, and misstep on the last stair, gravity pulling you down with it and sending you tumbling down noisily. 

The impact doesn’t hurt as much as the fright that spikes in your body, scared of getting in trouble for getting caught being awake so late in the night. Your parents rush out of the kitchen from the noise, finding you on the floor in a twisted position. 

They yell out your name in worry, but you’re more concerned now with the pair of foreign blue eyes that stare at you from the entrance of the kitchen. A boy with a choppy mop of blonde hair was just barely visible to you before your father hid from view with his body, his face speckled with blue and black in some areas and donning rather ripped and worn-out clothing. You stare at him back, wondering about his presence, before your mother scoops you in her arms and takes you back upstairs at your father’s command. 

Michael stays in the guest room in the basement. Your father tells you not to go down there in the meantime and to stay upstairs in your room if he’s ever on the main floor. For Michael, it’s the same instance; he’s not allowed to come upstairs if you were there and must remain in the basement. They even put a tall stair gate that properly separates the two levels of the house for extra insurance. 

When you ask him why, he merely tells you “because I said so.’”

“I can’t be friends with him?” you ask him during breakfast before school, some milk from your cereal sopping your chin.

Your father tucks out a tissue from the holder, dabbing the liquid away before it can stain your new purple butterfly t-shirt. “One day, you will. Just not now, my love.”

You say nothing, a response to your father shows him that you understand. He goes to prepare another helping of raspberry toast and cereal, and you tell him you’re full. 

He chuckles fondly as he plops a spoon in the bowl of cereal. “No. This is for Michael.”

“How come he gets two raspberry toasts and I only get one?” you huff when your father takes out two pieces of bread and spreads the preserve on it. 

“Because you don’t eat the second one all the way through,” your father chides, “and we don’t waste food in this house. Michael needs more food than you. He’s very skinny.”

“Like a skeleton?” you ask.

Your father shakes his head in disapproval, tutting a finger. “Don’t say that, honey. That’s not nice.”

You shrug, going to munch on your singular piece of toast, your full, cherub-like cheeks puffing from the food. “I’m just asking.”

A shattering crash, a loud boyish yell, and a shriek from your mother. The combination of the sounds make you rush out of your bedroom to see what the commotion is about rather late in the night.

You make it halfway down the stairs, using the railings again as a barrier between upstairs and downstairs, trying your best to see what was happening in the living room. 

Your mother clutches her palm tightly, shaking visibly as her face twists from what seems to be pain of some kind. One of the vases has been broken, its ceramic shards all over the carpet of the living room. The pasta your mother cooked last night is splattered on the carpet as well, staining it orangey-red with sauce and noodles all over.

Your father holds down a wriggling Michael in his grasp, who thrashes against his hold angrily. This is the few times that you’ve seen him in passing, always so far away from you despite being under the same roof, and you’ve never interacted with each other even once besides the singular moment of eye contact in the two months he’s lived here.

“Let me go!” he screams, pounding and scratching at your father’s arms. “I don’t want stupid spaghetti!”

“You need to eat,” your father attempts to say to him, but his words fall deaf on the boy’s ears. “You have to eat something or you’ll starve.”

“Get the fuck off of me!” he hollers, the curse word making you flinch at his ferocity. You’ve heard the word before, but your parents have forbidden you to say it, with the one time you decided to test it out to see its truth ending you with a bar of soap in your mouth. “Let go!”

“Michael, just one bite of it,” your father pleads, his grip still firm around the boy whose skinniness doesn’t match with this strength. “Just a bite of some spaghetti and you can go to bed.”

He whines and yells, shaking his head furiously.

“No! I want meat! I want meat!” he shouts. 

“You can’t have meat,” your father says, which only makes the boy angrier. “That’s not allowed.”

His face is flushed with red, eyes that you thought were blue now flickered with ruby as they stare hungry daggers at your mother. You can see clearly now that his chin is glazed over with something; saliva. He’s salivating. 

The boy continues to thrash, wetness spitting out in flecks. “I don’t care! I want meat! I want her meat!” 

Your mother whips her head back to the boy, horrified at his words as she continues to clutch her bleeding palm. She turns her gaze to her father for a response at Michael’s words, only for him to swallow dryly and to motion for her to get out of here to tend to her wound.

“You,” she breathes to your father in a wide-eyed gaze. “You need to take him back to the facility. He can’t stay here any longer… not with (Y/N) around.”

“He’s not an animal, sweetheart—”

“He’s acting like one!” she interjects, taking account of Michael’s heavy panting and intense salivation as he fixates his gaze on her, hungry and desiring. “What if something happens to our child?!”

“He’s one, too!” your father insists, ignoring the deep scratches that Michael digs into his skin with his tiny nails. “I refuse to let them do such experiments on a mere child without me around!”

“Then do something about all of this—!” your mother exclaims, motioning a bloodied hand at Michael’s savagery in your father’s arms, gasping as he lets out an inhumane snarl at her, his teeth that shouldn’t be so menacing considering they were still so immature, baring all too harshly. “—before he hurts (Y/N)!”

You’ve been staying awake at night more often lately. The quiet ticking of your clock tends to accompany you, along with whatever sounds the quiet of the night gives out. 

A car pulls into the driveway, the muffled grating of rubber against concrete passing through your window with the headlights flashing some light temporarily in your darkened bedroom. They’re back home—your father and Michael. 

Michael doesn’t go to school, from what you know. At least… in the daytime. When you’re upstairs, belly full and ready to do your homework in your room, your father takes Michael to “night school”, where he does seemingly the same business you do at school, just in the evening. They’ll leave at around 8:30 pm then come back at around midnight or so. 

And all the while, you lay in bed. Waiting for their return. But you don’t go outside of your bedroom to greet them, not wanting to get in trouble for breaking two rules at once, you just merely lie there in wait. For some reason, you can’t go to slumber unless you know they’re home.

You can hear them talking amongst each other, voices muffled by the platform between the floors and the thick walls, but they’re talking calmly. It took awhile to get him to speak, but Michael does answer in short responses, only answering in bare minimums, so conversations often feel one-sided.

Your mother stays away from him now, only just cooking him dinner and preparing his clothes. But she makes herself scarce ever since he sunk his teeth into the deep layers of her palm.

When you asked her about it, despite knowing the reality of the situation, her eyes momentarily widened in fear before she turned to you with a plastic smile, eyes softened in a gaze that didn’t seem like her. 

“Mommy just burnt her hand on the stove, that’s all,” she said, voice a little tight. 

You meet Michael for the very first time in the dead of night. 

Your throat was dry and aching for water, and your mother had forgotten to prepare you some before bedtime, so you creeped downstairs in the blue hour of the night, entered the code that your father gave you for the gate on the stairs, and pattered to the kitchen. 

It’s there that you see him, spotlighted by the light of the fridge. He’s peering his head into it, the door to the basement wide open, his enclosure opened. Your breath hitches when you stare at him, almost admiringly so. 

For some reason, however, the boy doesn’t move. He just keeps staring into the remnants of the fridge, disinterest on his face. There are eye bags under his eyes, heavy and tinted with an exhausted purple. The bruises from his face have long faded, with some yellow specks here and there, but otherwise, he actually looks a little more human now. 

You freeze in your place when you see him in full flesh for the first time without any restrictions to guard between the two of you. A silence falls on your lips, your breath hitching as to not make any sudden noises to startle him and you decide that it’s best to go back upstairs until he goes back down into the basement, but just as you’re about to move, Michael closes the door and turns back. 

Then he sees you. You see him. Your eyes widen. He blinks. 

It’s hard to see, given that the house was only lit by the light above the stove, but you see him there in full visibility. You’re a little taller, but you make direct eye contact with him, your eyes meeting intentful hues of blue. 

You don’t know what to do. You’ve been good so far—abiding by your parents’ words and avoiding interaction with him until you were able, but now you’re face to face with him completely by accident. Will you get in trouble? 

Michael suddenly takes a step forward. You instantly take a step back in fright. He furrows his brows. 

“Move,” he commands, an icy stare piercing into you.

A yelp struggles itself in your throat, only coming out as a weakened mewl, and you jump out of the way.

Michael doesn’t spare you another look as he exits the kitchen and enters back into the opening of the basement, shutting the door behind him.

The lock clicks. You’re alone in the kitchen now, left alone with your thoughts and the ghost of Michael.

Your throat feels drier than ever before.

It’s been a few weeks since you met Michael face to face for the first time, and you’ve made the habit to make sure you have a full glass of water at your bedside to avoid having to creep down again and run into the stranger in your house. But you’ve forgotten to do so tonight. 

You opted for just drinking the sink water from the bathroom, but the taste was different in comparison to the water machine, too tinny and metallic for your liking, an iron-like taste remaining on your tongue that you wanted to wash out. 

So… making sure that you were completely alone… you walk downstairs and to the kitchen again. You sigh in relief when you peek through the hallway and find that you were alone this time in the darkness of the kitchen, the overhead stove light still on to light your way.

You watch mindlessly as your cup fills with water, not thinking much of it and turning back to go back to bed, until you gasp so hard that some water sloshes out of the cup. 

Michael stands before you, idly and eerily still. The moonlight from the window haloes him and makes him look like a phantom in the night.

Did you not hear the basement door open? Or perhaps the creak of his footsteps?  It doesn’t matter now, considering you and him are now once again just feet apart from one another, a distance that seems all too close for your liking. 

Neither of you say anything at first. Your large eyes just stare into his dull ones, trying to question why he’s here again. Until he speaks.

“Clean that up.”

Trance breaking from his haunting figure, you gain back a sense of reality and feel the coldness of the water on your foot, grounding you back. 

“Huh?” you look down and see a puddle of water. “Oh…”

“Clean it up,” he says, pointing. “Before you slip.”

Your voice catches itself in your throat. Words drown themselves in the confusion you’re faced with at the interaction, and you do nothing except for place the cup on the counter and take some paper towels, soaking it up.

Michael watches you as you quietly clean up your mess, eyes scanning your figure and its every movement. Once the floor was dry, you go back to shyly fill up your cup again from the spilt water and try to pass him to go back to the safety of your bedroom, until you hear him speak again.

“I want to go upstairs,” he says, capturing your attention again.

You turn back to him, a worried pinch in your brow. 

“Dad says you can’t.”

“I don’t care,” he states and tries again. “I want to go upstairs. Take me there.”

You frown, clearly unimpressed at his bossiness. “No. I’ll get in trouble.”

His eyes narrow and you flinch. 

“Take me upstairs. Now. I want to see what’s there.”

The way he says it sounds almost growly, like he was about to bite at you. You can almost see him snarl slightly when you refute his command.

But you resist anyway, knowing what’s good for you. “I said no.”

Now he’s really irritated, given by the gnashing of teeth and balled fists.

“Take me upstairs or I’ll eat you,” he threatens, his voice now filled with contempt and impatience. “I’ll eat your skin and bones. And then your brain and heart.” 

And though you should be afraid of him, afraid of what this stranger in your house might do to you, your face contorts into a mild annoyance, too tired to deal with this matter. If you were somewhat more awake, you probably would’ve been frightened at his words, but the only thing on your mind is just going back to bed—a simple task for a mere nine-year-old.

“You’re weird,” you mutter and turn your back to him, retracing your steps to go back upstairs.  But you hear him follow, your footsteps being echoed by his own on the floorboards. You turn back to him, sighing. “Stop following me.”

“I want to see upstairs,” he repeats again, the hardness in his eyes still there. 

“...”

You remain quiet, almost feeling vexed at his resilience, but you sigh and roll your eyes. Perhaps if you just let him entertain himself just for a bit. Just for a swift moment so he can shut up and you can shoo him back into the basement. Your parents don’t have to know a thing.

You hold his stare momentarily. 

“Just this once,” you state, holding a finger up to indicate your seriousness.

He doesn’t say or do anything, but seems to acknowledge your permission when you let him follow you again. The stair gate is still open, and you move aside to let him in before you close it ever so slightly, just enough that it remains open for him to go back downstairs without the code, and he trails himself up the flight of stairs behind you.

You watch him as he tinkers around with the plethora of furniture in the hallway, admiring the pictures on the wall and looking at himself in one of the mirrors. Just so he doesn’t do anything dumb. 

“What’s that?” he asks, pointing to a narrow door. 

“Broom closet,” you say simply.

He points to another door. “What’s that one?”

“Bathroom.”

“What about that one?”

“Dad’s office.”

He then points to the two large doors at one end of the hallway, opposite to your own. “What’s that one?” 

You turn and look at where he’s pointing. 

“Mommy and Dad’s room,” you mention nonchalantly, the way that Michael stares deeply at the two doors going unnoticed by you. 

He turns back to you, eyes still a little vast. “Where’s your room?” 

Your head nudges over your shoulder. “Down the hall.”

“Take me there,” he commands again. “Let me see it.”

You want to interject, saying that your room is your own, but you’re so sleepy that you’ll do anything if it means Michael goes back down to the basement and leaves you alone.

So you lead him there, letting him wander around your room and admire all the trinkets that you’ve collected. You shuffle yourself back into the comfort of your bed, thirst quenched and eyelids heavy. 

“When you’re done, close my door and go back downstairs,” you mutter as you fluff your pillow, hearing him stroll around your room and toying with the things you don’t really want him to touch. “Make sure to close the gate.”

Again, he says nothing, just entertaining himself with your collectibles and toys. You lie yourself back down and shut your eyes, just wanting to rest once more, letting Michael’s quiet sounds of curiosity lull you to sleep, ceasing when you hear your door close. Relief flows within you, finally getting the chance to fully rest without keeping your toes on edge, until you feel your blanket pulling and the shuffle of your bedsheets.

You shoot up in bed, appalled at the sight that Michael is tucking himself into your bed without permission. 

“Hey!” you whisper-shout and nudge him. “You can’t do that! Go away!”

“Your bed is better than mine,” he says monotonously, not caring about your concern. “I want to sleep in it.”

“I’m gonna get in trouble!” you whine and try pulling your blankets back to yourself, but he’s already tucked his body under one edge of it like a cocoon. “I don’t like sleeping with other people in my bed!”

“Then take mine then,” he remarks, his head resting on one of your spare pillows. 

You grit your jaw. “No! Go back to your own!” 

“Stop bothering me,” he mutters. “I want to sleep.”

“Sleep in your own bed!” you exclaim.

“I want to sleep here,” he murmurs, resting his eyes. “Just for tonight.”

You huff, complaining again, but your words fall on deaf ears when Michael doesn’t respond again, clearly taken by the Sandman when he was finally settled into the comfort of your bed. Your own sleepiness is beginning to take over you as you stare at his sleeping, calm face, feeling defeated and exhausted.

“Just for tonight,” you mutter with hushed contempt to him, despite him not being able to answer as you tuck yourself back into your sheets.

Your father had found you and Michael asleep together in your own bed to his surprise the morning after. Although he was more than delighted to see you and him being in the same vicinity without any harm being done, your mother was mortified when he excitedly broke the news to her.

“But they’re able to coexist in peace!” he had insisted.

“For now! What if something happens in the future?!” she worriedly remarked.

“We can’t keep them apart from each other for long,” your father said. “It’s not fair to either of them that they have to be restricted in the house because of each other.”

Your mother wasn’t convinced, still adamant on keeping you and Michael separated if he continued to live with your family. “You said it yourself that the child is… you know.... What will happen to (Y/N) if he gets the urge again?”

“He hasn’t had any impulses since that one time,” your father stated. “Yes, he may have had some urges here and there but the medicine seems to be working! He hasn’t had any incidents since he started taking it, hasn’t he?”

It was argument after argument with them for at least a week, but your mother eventually brought her guard down slowly and accepted the conditions of Michael slowly being introduced to you more and more under their supervision. It was mainly your father that did the talking to both of you, with your mother staying close to you and making sure Michael didn’t do anything impulsive that would harm you. 

It was a slow start, just letting you and him eat dinner together when you came home from school (you find that he’s taken a liking to anything with bread). Then on the weekends, Michael was allowed to go upstairs to be around you, watching TV with you or just intently watching you as you played with your toys (he didn’t seem to be interested in them. He seemed more interested in you and what you’d do.) 

Your parents were always nearby if he was around you, just in case that he was ready to gnash his teeth. But it never happened. He never did as much as salivate around you and was just another merely child around you. Another friend.

Your father was pleased at Michael’s improvement in behavior, writing them down in his notebook as he examined how he interacted with you. 

“I think the newest prototype is showing the best results,” he had muttered into his phone fondly as you showed off your newest bunny plush to him. He took it by the ears suddenly, making you exclaim and telling him that holding it like that will hurt it. Michael gave you a look, telling you that it wasn’t alive to your disdain. Your father chuckled. “His temperament has been nothing but calm lately. He’s improving rapidly.”

Your mother was still ever the worrywart, always keeping a sharp eye on Michael—an attention that went very much noticed by him. She never said anything directly to him, but with her stony gaze, it was always as though she was warning him not to make a wrong move. Michael would just return it with a flair of spite in his eyes, as though he were annoyed at her attentiveness.

But regardless, you and him slowly began to intertwine your lives with each other, beginning to build a foundation in each other’s worlds. All the while not knowing truly how permanently embedded your futures will be together.

You learned the truth about him when you were twelve. 

Michael has to take a pill twice a day and drink something your father gives him every morning that mildly stains his lips purple—a juice he has to drink to gain weight properly since he was malnourished as a younger child, your father says. He eats with you in the mornings now before you head to school, but he doesn’t tag along. In fact, his “night school” has moved to the mornings, but instead of coming with you like any other child, he follows your father and they go to his “school” together. 

You never questioned the pills at first, thinking they were just the vitamins you were given in the morning to nourish your body. You ask your mother about it one day after school and though her face hadn’t changed, didn’t even so much as blink, her grip on the steering wheel tightens. Hard. 

“It’s to regulate his blood sugar,” she says

Your mother is quite the liar and you’ve gotten used to her lies through the years, so you could detect there was a veil covering the reality of her words. But you never prodded about them more, merely because you felt like you shouldn’t.

She asks you later that day to fetch a hair tie from the bathroom upstairs so she could properly cook dinner, but when you don’t find anything in the main bathroom, you venture into your parents’ bathroom to find it. 

And that’s when you see it. A sight you never expected to see in your own house. 

Your father, with a long, thin, clear tube in his arm filled with red that drains from his body into a beaker, two inches worth of blood pooling inside of it. A small test tube rack holding seven tubes sits on the framing of the sink, with a small amount of a strange and viscous blue liquid sitting at the bottom of it and a couple of orange caps sitting idly next to it.

The orange caps.

The orange caps you would see in the trash can when you were throwing leftovers out in the morning. 

You make yourself small, just quietly watching through the crack of the door hinges as your father finishes draining another inch of blood into the beaker, wincing in pain as he takes out the needle from his arm that connected with the now-bloody tube. He cleans himself up, bandaging the area before tending to work with the test tubes. 

Your father picks up the beaker, pouring a bit of blood into each of the test tubes with the blue liquid and you watch as blue melded into red, a plum-like color rising from the mixtures. Purple.

Purple… 

The drink that Michael drank in the morning along with his pills tinted his lips purple for the slight moment he was done with it, just until he licked his lips and refreshed them. 

The orange caps… the purple liquid. The dots connect suddenly and you feel more than nauseated when they do. Michael wasn’t drinking juice. He was drinking your father’s blood… and whatever that blue liquid was. 

You shift your body from your hiding spot and reveal yourself to your father, your eyes watery and mind racing. 

“What are you doing?” you ask with a warbly voice. 

Your father looks aghast at your sudden appearance, clearly stunned at the fact that he was caught in the act. He picks up on the fact that you were clearly disturbed at such a sight and knowing that Michael was drinking your father’s blood and tries to calm you down in the best way he could, though with how harsh your chest heaved and how terrified you looked, it was difficult to do so. 

Your father closes the door so Michael, who was outside kicking a soccer ball, and your mother wouldn’t intervene.

The truth spills out; about who Michael was and why he was here. About the pills and the drink. About what he did and why he did it. And though your father was revealing the truth as to not hide anything more from you, it seemed like the more you found about the strange boy living under your roof, you grew more panicked. 

You’ve heard about them before—cannibals. Cannibals of the world were notorious for not only their crimes, but why they did it in the first place and what led them to doing so. Everyone was susceptible to becoming one, but only when one would pass the line of sanity and insanity would be labeled as such. 

They were primarily born from a fury of negative emotions would teeter them closer to crossing that border; be it a horrible burst of anger or an intense sorrow, the more a person would feel such emotions, the closer they came to bordering insanity and losing their humanity… and they closer they came to venturing out another in order to regain it back.

A person consuming another was their version of restoring their benevolence, each chunk of a person restoring what was lost in the blur of negative emotions, and with each bite they consumed, they felt just a little more human. But it came at a cost—with the more they ate, the faster they were able to lose their humanity, almost at twice the speed from pre-consumption, their emotions unstabilizing themselves once again, making the cycle repeat itself if they weren’t able to keep them in check. In order to restabilize themselves, if ever the case they did lose control again, they would seek out new prey, more prey, to gain back their semblance of being human. 

The notoriety of human meat was based on two components—the flesh and the blood. The flesh of humans was unlike any other; a rich maltness with the extra additions of intense juiciness and a powerful umami flavor. A true delicacy to those who have eaten it. The foreign blood consumed was responsible for restabilizing the emotions lost from their own humanity, giving off a euphoric relief that ensured a temporary emotional stability to the consumer. Mixed with the addicting taste of the flesh and the need to regulate themselves with the blood, the combination proved to be the powerful driving force of the repeat behavior for cannibals.

It was why they were dangers to society if left alone and not properly rehabilitated. If such were left unregulated, the cycle was doomed to be repeated. 

Often they were looked at with contempt and disgust—so much so that even those that committed the act even just once and restored themselves to society were almost always shunned by others, mainly due to the fear that they would become their next victim. It was rare, but there were people that looked at them with pity—like your father. A gentle, soft-spoken man filled with empathy, your father had dedicated his life’s work as a scientist to try to help those who fell victim to such, with the last few years being dedicated to working on a cure that would stop such dysregulation once and for all. 

The pill that Michael took in the morning and night was one of its prototypes. The drink with your father’s blood was to primarily keep him stabilized without wanting to eat flesh and bones. The blue liquid it was mixed with was to thin the blood and reduce the full effects of it so he wouldn’t become too dependent on it. But none of that mattered compared to learning the truth about Michael and why he was here.

You had been living with a cannibal this entire time. Eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner with him, watching cartoons with him, sharing a bed with him… all the while he had the complete ability to devour you whole if his mind slipped at the slightest sense. The truth was horrifying and you wish you had never learned it, because upon doing so, you spiraled into chaos and sobbed to your father why on earth would you hide this from you, knowing that you loved Michael so dearly, it was unlike any other love you harbored for anyone else. You loved your parents, you loved your friends… but Michael was special. There was a special place in your heart for him.

A heart he could’ve gnawed away at in any given moment.

Your father tried to calm you down, telling you that Michael was just as human as you were now. That such urges from him dissipated long ago and he hadn’t gotten them since he started taking the pill and drinking his blood. That he wasn’t a danger to the world any longer because of what your father had nurtured for him.

“This isn’t fair!” you cry. “I deserved to know!”

“Yes, you did,” your father says. “But I didn’t know how to tell you without you getting scared.”

A flow of tears rapidly smear your cheeks, your emotions getting hazy. “What if something happens?! What if—what if something happens to you? O-or Mom? Or me—”

“I’d never hurt you, (Y/N),” Michael’s voice says softly from nearby. 

You and your father turn over your shoulder to see Michael standing in front of the bathroom, feet shuffling. Eyes still blurry with tears, you just barely manage to make out his figure. He seems uncharacteristically meek, ashamed almost. 

“Micha…” you croak out.

He slowly walks towards you, but your father abruptly stands up and creates a barrier between you and him, understanding that you and him may need some space right now. You hide behind your father, terrified of him after learning his truth. Understandably so.

But he remains his guard in place, adamant. 

His gaze concentrates on you, eyes of azure piercing into you. His usual flicker of malice that he gave everyone but you and your father isn’t there, but instead replaced by a true and dedicated devotion. Dare you say you call it love, even, if cannibals were even capable of such.

Your father clears his throat. “Michael, I think it’s best if you—”

“I hate the thought of it,” he states simply, ignoring him. “In fact, I’d rather kill myself than even think of hurting you.”

His tone was just as droll as ever, but the depth of his words were clear as day. Transparent, showing off a nature of him that only you got to see, softer and milder from a boy whose words were usually as sharp as knives. 

His dark, harsh words made you and your father flinch, especially considering that Michael was saying them with a completely serious face, indicating that the twelve-year-old was more than capable of doing such a task if given the chance to. 

But regardless, you could still see his earnesty. Whether it was you and your immature brain or the fact that you viewed him as special, you chose to believe it. The doubts still lingered in the back of your mind, yes, but you still felt a compulsion to let him still be in your life as Michael. 

You stay behind your father, just peeking your watery eyes out at him. 

“Do you mean it?” you ask softly. 

“That I’d kill myself?” he reiterates, making you frown. 

“No,” you mutter. “... that you’d never hurt me.”

Michael stares at you before he nods.

“I’d kill every person in this world before I hurt you,” he states to your father’s concern… especially when he notices the quiet mania in the boy’s gaze. “... before I let anything hurt you.”

You and Michael were fourteen when it all happened.

He was picking you up from the bus stop that your bus dropped you off at, as his “school” ended a few hours earlier than yours did, with just a mild walk back to your house filled with conversations about your day.

It was a late fall day, the sun setting earlier in the day than it did in the summer, so the sky was starting to spill with the beginning traces of blue evening ink mixed with the remnants of daylight. 

You and Michael enter your house, the lights oddly flickered off except for upstairs despite both your parents’ cars being home. 

The smell was immediate, the first thing that hit you that indicated something was wrong. 

An acrid scent—rotting and putrid. Tinny, the faint smell of copper ghosting around the house. Michael curses aloud, face wrinkling at the smell and saying that your mother was probably cooking up a dead body to your discontent. But you can’t help but pinch your nose either, nearly retching at the scent that flamed your nostrils. 

You call out for your mother in the darkened house, wondering what on earth she could be cooking in the kitchen, but when you patter over to that area of the house where your mother was usually in during this time of day, her and her pink apron were nowhere to be found. 

Michael notices that there were ingredients being prepped and that she was most likely about to cook some salmon, a knife being laid out on the counter next to a cutting board. But the vegetables and the fish are warm, as though they had been left out for a while. You tell him to check the basement as you search the first floor, a worry building inside of you at the strange emptiness. 

The living room, the dining room, and the laundry room are all completely empty, except with the remnants of human life like the remote sitting in between couch cushions and the washing machine still running. You check the front door again to truly see if your parents’ cars were there, and they were; hell, even their slippers were gone indicating they were somewhere in the house that you now feel has a sinister feel to it. Something is wrong.

Michael comes back upstairs. He shakes his head when you ask him if they were there, coming up as empty-handed as you were. Your own hands grow clammy, a slight rush of heat running across your forehead. Michael takes your hand in yours, warming them up with his in a quiet attempt to soothe you.

He says that they’re probably upstairs, that there’s still that ground you have to cover. But there’s this gnawing feeling that eats at you when you gaze upon the stairs, telling you that going up there is a bad decision. You try to voice it to Michael, but he just juts a brow at your confusion, shaking it off and with his hand still in yours, you and him slowly climb up.

It’s not a rushed pace to go up the stairs you’ve travelled up and down many times. In fact, you want to go slower the more of them you climb, this resistance in your legs attempting to pull you down as a plea to not go further, for your sake. You pause on the stairs suddenly, a terror in your eyes. 

Michael furrows his brows and tightens his hold. He asks you what’s wrong.

Nausea seeds itself within you. You’re left wordless, only swallowing thickly and shaking your head. 

Michael turns his head towards upstairs, thinking you’ve seen something, but he sees nothing but the closed doors of the bedrooms. He pulls you stubbornly, managing to make you climb one more step. 

You’re frozen in this state of fear, lip warbling at the haunting anticipation. Michael continues to pull you up, telling you to get your act together frustratingly as he heaves you up step-by-step until you and him reach the top floor. 

The nausea grows worse when you make eye contact with your parents door, making Michael hiss out in pain slightly when you tighten your grip in his hand. He wants to tell you off, but you cower towards him, a glaze over your eyes. He thins his lips, letting you clutch onto his arm as you approach your parents’ closed door.

Michael suddenly stops in his tracks, just a few feet shy from the door. You turn to him. 

The smell he had gotten used to during the few minutes of the search, using his shirt and the laundry detergent leftover on it to replenish his senses every once in a while, but his stomach twists as he realizes that the smell is much more strong now. The strongest it’s ever been, actually—so strong, it makes him want to hurl right then and there.

A rancid rot of something. The familiar metallic smell overwhelms him… but more in the sense of familiarity and less of disgust. He’s encountered this scent. Because Michael has smelled this before, all those years ago. 

Dread pits itself in his stomach when he guesses what’s behind these closed doors. He can hear it if he listens closely. 

Not wanting to wait any longer to keep himself in the dark, Michael grips the door handle of one of the doors and swings it open. 

Immediately, you want to throw up and vomit. The smell from earlier is the strongest it’s ever been—a disgusting, pungent thing that even makes Michael retch once or twice in his throat. 

You gather yourself up from trying not to vomit, and you regain your balance back to Michael’s side… only to see the very thing that would plague your mind for the rest of your living years.

There, in the middle of your parents’ darkened room, was the corpse of your mother, her torso nearly gone with her blood and leftover organs spilling all over the carpet. Her small intestine lays limply on the ground, unraveled, while one of her lungs half-reveals itself to you from inside her ribcage. Her face is turned towards you, a face forever ingrained in your memory as the very definition of fear itself—eyes wide open, mouth unhinged into what looked like a scream.

And hovering over her, feasting on the flesh of her body, was your father, mangled and bloody and ravenous. His face was smeared with blood, glasses speckle with ruby as his teeth sank deep into her limp arm, ripping off a tender piece of skin off so large, it revealed bone. He chews it with a heaving chest, saliva dripping from his mouth like a waterfall as he searches for more skin to feast on. An inhumane growl erupts from him as he swallows, going to bite on her arm again.

But before he can tear off another piece, you scream out loud at the ghastly sight, making your father suddenly look up and see you and Michael standing there, shock written on both of your faces. It paints his own suddenly, the animalistic-like look on his face dissipating with the exception of his reddened irises that pierce into you and Michael. 

You shake violently, your vision getting hazy the more you try to analyze the scene before you. Michael himself is trying his best to understand what on earth happened—why such a mild-mannered, quiet man was able to do such a beastly thing. 

Your father suddenly stands up, blood still dripping from his chin, a desperate look in his eyes. 

Michael guards you behind him suddenly, reaching behind his pocket as he grits his jaw when he stares at the bloody man that reaches out for you.

“(Y/N)...” your father gasps out, throat hoarse. “I-I can explain—”

“Stay the fuck back!” Michael shouts, revealing the kitchen knife from earlier in his grasp that he points directly at the man that had been taking care of him for the past several years—though calling him a man didn’t seem all that fitting now, not with the corpse in front of him and the blood that stains his body. “Get away!”

Your father desperately turns to him, tears pricking at his eyes at the two children before him looking absolutely terrified of him. “Michael… please… I just—I don’t know what—”

A sobbed whimper rips from you, your voice lost, but Michael speaks for you. “What the fuck did you do?!”

“I don’t know…” your father gasps, blood spitting, “I’m so s-sorry… I just… we were in a fight and—” he takes another step, one that Michael and you take back. 

“I said stay back!” he hollers and juts the knife at the man. 

“I’m sorry,” your father wheezes, but takes a couple of more to try and reach you, his precious child, with hands that once grazed you so affectionately but are now stained with the blood of the mother you came from. He circles in on you, despairingly, calling out your name in the tenderest manner he can muster despite the red tint on his lips and teeth. “(Y/N), please f-forgive me. Forgive Papa—I didn’t mean to—”

You choke out a sob, gasping for breath, the violent tears running down your face muffling you but you shake your head desperately to not let him get any closer to you. Michael lets you hide yourself behind him, his knife still drawn and hand intertwined with yours. 

Your father is now crying himself, disgusted at what he’s done to make you cry so harshly. His hands shake viciously, with their only want being to hold you in his arms like he did this morning before you left for school. If the universe could allow him one wish… just let it be that. Just let him hold his child in his arms one last time before—

Michael suddenly turns on his heel, dropping the knife and pulling you with him, abandoning your father in the bedroom upstairs. He drags you down the stairs you came from, a sense of flight overtaking his senses and letting his body float through the air to wherever he takes himself. 

You and him suddenly burst out the door of the house, your father’s forlorn screams of your name echoing from behind you, his broken voice being the last sound you’d ever hear from that house that you leave behind as you and Michael sprint into the night—running and running and running. Running so far, away from the house, away from your father, away from your mother’s body, away from your old life… until your legs are so sore that they can’t function anymore. 

All the while, the images play in your head, haunting you. Your mother’s ghastly face staring up at you with chunks of her body missing, your father and his bloody face, the wretched smell of the house, all of it makes you cry as Michael pulls you along. Everything hurts, from the inside out, and you’re nothing but confused and scared. 

Amidst the night, you and him stop at a park that you think is miles away from your old house, only lit by a few spare lampposts. Your chest hurts, his feet ache, both of your heads spinning from exhaustion and adrenaline, and you collapse into him, your world suddenly fading black. 

A sharp pain stabs you in your chest suddenly, making you gasp aloud and sit up in bed. It disappears the moment you’re conscious, but there’s this aftereffect of a sting that blooms within your chest. A clammy, shaky hand draws to your forehead that you can feel is misted with sweat and you draw a stuttering breath, trying to regain semblance of where you are in this darkened room. 

There’s a dim lamp in the corner of the room, and that’s all it takes for you to understand where you are. 

“Look at me.” 

A voice says it from beside you and you whip your head to see blue hues looking at you with concern. Your own gaping eyes meet Michael’s tired ones, and your shoulders droop upon seeing him. 

“Micha…” you rasp out, throat irritatingly dry.

Michael doesn’t say anything, just examining your shaking figure for a bit as you recompose yourself with deep breaths. This was routine to him at this point the more the date of the incident draws closer. There were moments that the one singular moment that pivoted your life entirely would haunt your dreams, making you shake and wrestle with the sheets so violently, it woke him up. He had tried to wake you up mid-nightmare before, but his words fell on deaf ears and you only responded in terrified whimpers. It wouldn’t be long before you jolted awake anyways, once the whimpering started. 

A towel at the ready, he grabs it from the nightstand and presses it up to your forehead, soaking the nightsweats up and dabbing it on your open neck and chest that’s stained with tears and saliva. Your chest still heaves harshly, but your eyes don’t flicker around as much as they did mid-sleep, focusing on the blanket’s design as the towel soaks your skin. 

You fist the blanket. “I had that—”

“—nightmare, I know,” he mutters, placing the towel back onto the nightstand and grabbing the glass of water to help quench your thirst. “Drink.”

Obeying his command, you recklessly lap up the water, with a bit of it trickling down your chest to his displeasure considering he just cleaned that area up. 

You hold your head in your hands as he puts the cup back down on the nightstand, head spinning. Michael suddenly shuffles to you, letting you rest your head on his chest like you did at the park all those years ago, listening to his heartbeat to help calm you down.

“I still see him,” you murmur, feeling his hands run up and down your back. “My dad. I mean.”

“I know,” he says quietly. “It’s the same thing every time.”

“I’m sorry,” your eyelids heave and flutter lightly, exhausted. “You must be tired of having to deal with this.

You smile slightly at his blunt statement, eyes closing as you listen to the steady beat of a heartbeat you often were lulled to sleep by through the years. 

He shrugs, clearly unbothered despite how many times he’s had to face this from you.

“Doesn’t matter,” he sighs. Michael’s gaze focuses on the shade of yellow the lamp is, feeling the warmth of your body against his, the silent tears that flow from you soaking his shirt. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

a/n: this was sooo self indulgent but WTV i just wanted to get it done and spit this out here.. i had more lore to him too but i didn't want him to get greedy so i stopped it here. need to fix that ending tho... lowk weak

also their relationship isnt supposed to be hinted as incestual despite the dark themes—their relationship is more akin to like eremika, where one of them was abandoned and got “adopted” by the other, but kaiser still has his last name. also bc reader’s mom didn’t rly treat him like a son and their dad treated him more like a science experiment. hope i implied that properly

oh he dies in this au btw. just so u know

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

About the get to know me asks!

5, 12, 15, 16, 25, 36, 37, 44, 50, 79, 90 and 100 💜

5. What is your favorite color?

purple!!!! it's easiest for my eyes to look at, especially like. my keyboard lights up, and my mouse, and my computer has a light in it and it's all purple and also myyyy browser and desktop taskbar and everything and my tumblr theme. all purple. other colors feel like they stress my eyes a bit more for some reason, depending on what and where it is. but i do love all colors

12. What was your last dream about?

oh my god well, the last one i REMEMBERED, which was days ago or last week or something, wasssss. i don't even know how to explain it, wait. okay. in my dream, i was a guy. and i was kind of just figuring it out and i was trying to decide if i wanted to tell people or not and going back and forth between "i am! am i????". when i first woke up, i felt a bit disoriented for a minute

15. Favorite song?

for this one i'm going to chooooooose just like me by russ ballard. just ONE OF my favorite songS

16. Favorite movie?

i don't think i have a favorite movie. there's never any specific one that comes to mind and i haven't been into movies in soooo long. i'm thinking and thinking and i don't think i can answer this one, there's just nothing in mind.

25. What color socks are you wearing?

they're fuzzy socks that are multicolored in sort of scattered stripes like soft blue, soft pink, soft yellow

36. Favorite clean word?

love

37. Favorite swear word?

this is funny to me because i don't often swear and most of the time i do, it's just if i'm quoting what somebody else said. online, i'm probably more likely to swear, if at all, than in person and actually speaking it(i don't have problems with it but i just haven't felt like i needed to and didn't want to get in a habit where i might say something at a time where i shouldn't, like around kids or something). ummm. favorite one. i don't really know. a well placed "fuck" can sometimes make a sentence like a thousand times funnier. maybe that one.

44. Do you have a strong accent?

i'm not. entirely sure? i mean i don't know how to measure the strength of it. like on a scale, what does 0 sound like if 10 is strong? i don't know how anything works. and i'm not even sure what the accent(s) here would be called. now i'm curious and looking it up. crying when i see people say things like "people from that area do not have an accent". PLEASE. and then. i- okay maybe forget looking it up when everything i see reads like nobody has ever been here in their lives. wait okay this makes sense, maybe? people here have like a bit of a mixture of like. canadian/finnish/german influenced accents? or some others too maybe. i know i've been told some of my own family history leads to finland and germany and that a lot of people came here from those places. i don't KNOW. anyway i've been told that i don't have a very strong accent, but maybe somebody not from around here would notice it more.

50. Left or right handed?

right handed!

79. Who was your first real crush?

i don't know if it counts. but i was literally obsessing over images since i was barely able to talk. back when i was very little, before my siblings all got taken out of school, i used to stare at a group picture of my brother's class and for SOME REASON i was obsessed with one kid in that picture. i didn't even know what a crush was, but i was saying things like "i'm gonna marry him", i'm pretty sure i didn't even know what marrying somebody meant, but my brother and sister used to tease me about it and try to say things about that kid to try to make me not like him and i was always like "I DON'T CARE I LOVE HIM" all the time. eXACTLY like i am on tumblr about musicians to this day(except now i know what i'm saying(usually)).

90. What makes you angry?

SO MANY THINGS, OH NOOOOOOO. but a lot of it boils down to the way people treat others, like there's sooo many things that bother me when i see somebody being made to feel bad for NO REASON. and then especially when people that are responsible for making that happen have that kind of attitude about it like "freedom of speech! i can say what i want!" or like "stop being so sensitive!". or when i see people get anon hate on tumblr and them feeling so horrible about it, like. i just. i cannot stand it. i can't comprehend what would make somebody CHOOSE TO DO THAT to another person. there are so many choices to make in life, why is that even a thought? besides that, i also sometimes get upset easily when i'm intentionally left out of things. i mean mostly with people close to me. that's why i don't like surprises or anything like that. i hate feeling like i'm the only one that didn't know or like something's being kept from me. even if it's something harmless with good intentions, i just hate the feeling. or pranks even. i don't do well with people trying to pull pranks on me, it just makes me feel like i can't trust them with anything. i don't like feeling like i have to be on guard all the time. also hate being underestimated when it's something that i could very easily do, like. people tend to look at me like "oh you're just a small girl, you can't do that". i hate being treated like i'm delicate and can't do anything, which i am not. (currently feeling like a barking chihuahua while i type this) OR, similar to that, like something needs to get done and i'm able to help do it and they're like "you're just a small girl, you shouldn't have to do this" and trying to find an alternative if it's some kind of physical work, like. moving a piece of furniture or something. meanwhile i'm thinking like I JUST SAID I CAN AND WANT TO DO THIS. like what do you MEAN. HAVE to??? who is MAKING ME? i have FREE WILL. the thing needs to get done, why are you-.. why. just WHY? I COULD REARRANGE MY ENTIRE HOUSE BY MYSELF, WHY IS THIS MORE OF A PROBLEM FOR YOU THAN IT IS FOR ME? so yeah, those are some things.

100. Color of your room?

blue and white! the picture i posted recently where i am obsessing over my grey hair being more visible was taken in my room, the walls are there in the background.

[aphilosopherchair]

Accounting on Ice

Thirsty for more action-packed accounting shenanigans? Bring your hockey gear to Accounting On Ice, a fantasized ice sports complex celebrating accounting concepts.

Accounting On Ice has three rinks, each with a different theme:

The Balance Sheet Rink is divided into two halves, representing the assets and liabilities sides of a balance sheet. The assets side is blue, and the liabilities side is red.

The Income Statement Rink is divided into four sections, representing the revenue, expenses, gains and losses sections of an income statement. The revenue section is green, the expenses section is yellow, the gains section is blue, and the losses section is orange.

The Statement of Cash Flows Rink is divided into three sections, representing the operating, investing, and financing activities sections of a statement of cash flows. The operating activities section is orange, the investing activities section is brown, and the financing activities section is gray.

Each rink is decorated with icons of different types of accounting items in the rink (e.g. types of assets and liabilities in the case of the Balance Sheet Rink).

Equipment:

Hockey sticks are styled as mouse pointers and USB dongles.

Pucks come with monetary symbols.

Tournaments:

The scoreboard shows the balance sheet of the complex.

Players wear jerseys with the names of different accounting terms.

Players are to skate around the rinks and score goals in the correct section.

The complex hosts tournaments with names like the "FIFO vs. LIFO Cup" and the "Going Concern vs. Liquidation Challenge."

There is a "Tax Time" skating party, where skaters dress up as accountants and compete in a tax-themed relay race.

Other amenities in the complex:

A ticket office named "Ledger"

A concession stand named "Audit" that offers snacks with names like "Debit Donuts" and "Credit Crunch"

A "Hall of Fame" that recognizes people who have made significant contributions to the field of accounting, categorizing them as "athletes," "builders" or "officials" for metaphorical comparison

A museum named "Rule of 72" that exhibits different artifacts from the history of accounting

A library named "Equity" with books and articles about accounting and with accounting formulae quoted like sayings on its walls

A computer lab named "Common Perennial Aches" with accounting software

A conference room named "T-account" for hosting accounting classes, workshops and seminars

A gift shop named "Trial Balance" that sells accounting-themed merchandise

The complex is open to the public and offers a variety of programs and services for people of all ages and skill levels in accounting and ice sports.

All in all, Accounting On Ice is a fabulous place to learn about accounting in an entertaining and interactive manner, to practice your skills, or to just have some fun on the ice. What are Big Four spectators waiting for? Get your bean counters to work on the bidding prices. You know the rule: No peeking at the human editor's estimated sales value.

[punkiesocialonline]

Hey! Can you do a Host x Dark fic? Like a Platonic/ sorta romantic one where Dark finds theses little printed notes throughout his office with inspirational quotes and stuff! Thanks Squib!

I’m so sorry this is like super duper late! I’ve been off of tumblr for months now trying to get things situated in my home life, but I’m back and better than ever! So, here is the long awaited fic, Anon!

Pairing: Darkiplier x Host

TW:None; Fluff

Dark’s head was throbbing. He had not slept a full nights rest in days. He was too caught up in schemes and plans, along with his additional work of running the office and keeping his fellow egos alive. The latter was much harder than it sounded. 

With Wilford always pointing waving his gun around and Yan leaving their knives in places where knives should not be, the work load was more than it should be for a house full of adults. All the Ipliers had been getting on Dark’s nerves lately, except for Host. Host had always been the more quieter egos, but unlike Eric or Dr.Iplier, he was not scared nor wary of the dark ego. 

No, Host treated Dark the way he treated everyone. Or, at least, that’s what Dark thought. 

It had taken Dark a few moments to process what Wilford had asked him, and even then, he did not fully understand the question.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean, Wil.”

The pink ego rolled his eyes, his smirk hidden under his pink mustache. 

“Of course you don’t, you oblivious bully! Honestly, I thought you were smarter than this, Darkipoo. I asked how do you make Host smile like that? He’s usually so cold and...what’s the word, hmmm...” Wilford trailed off in thought.

Dark sighed and rubbed his temple. He did not want to deal with Wilford’s...Wilfordness today. He already had enough on his plate as it was, he  did not need anything else to over think.

“Wil, my friend, perhaps we can talk about this another-” he was cut off by a finger similar to his own pressed against his lips.

“Distant! That’s the word!” Wilford exclaimed, removing his finger from Dark’s mouth and cocking his eye brow. “How do you get Hosty open up like you do?”

The older ego thought on that. He had never thought about it before, but he had noticed how Host’s mannerisms changed when speaking with him. Dark always thought it was a show of respect, but the more he thought the more he saw the signals. The problem was, thinking made his head hurt worse. 

He dismissed the question with a wave off his hand and hurried off, almost able to hear Willford’s eyebrows raise. He scrambled to his office, his safe place. There, he sat in his desk and put his head down on the desk with a groan. Another annoyed noise escaped him when he heard his email beep. 

“I swear, if it is the infuriating Bingiplier I’m gonna-” 

Darkiplier was stuck in his tracks once more. There, sitting plain as day, was a yellow stick note on his computer monitor. He did not even need to pick up the paper to see what the messy writing said. 

‘Remember to take a break, you keep over working yourself.’ 

Written next to it, though it seemed as if whoever wrote this tried to erase the shape, was an uneven heart.

Dark knew who had wrote this, for he could tell that handwriting from a mile away. With a shaky hand and his aura flickering, he took the note and stuffed it into his suit’s pocket. Before his mind could go on another journey down the rabbit hole, Dark was out of his seat and on a mission to find the blind man. 

Unfortunately, the 3D demon could not find his future seeing counterpart, and the smirk that Warfstache had given him had discourage any further attempts for the night. He watched as the clock ticked from his bed, lost in thought for what had to be the hundredth time that day. 

Dark once again, had another sleepless night. 

This cat and mouse game of their continued on for a few weeks, with Host leaving sweet little notes in Dark’s office, only to disappear for the rest of the day when Dark finds them. Sometimes he would leave Dark a cup of coffee, or medicine for his headaches. 

The notes were simple, but blunt. A sweet, ‘Have a nice day at work.’ Or a caring, ‘Make sure to eat lunch today.’ And Dark’s personal favorite, ‘Your red aura has been stronger than your blue, make sure to be taking care of them for me.’ 

Now, the two parts of Dark were conflicted. Damian, the hopeless romantic he was, found it endearing and cute, and insisted on keeping every little sticky note Dark found. Celine, on the other, was still heart broken by what happened, all those years ago, with William and Mark. She thought it would be best to just let this pass, and pretend that it was nothing out of the ordinary. 

What both broken souls could agree on was this, they did miss seeing Host. They both missed the late night book readings in the library, and early morning conversations, ones where Host would read Dark’s future for the day and with a small smile, send him on his way with a cup of black coffee. They missed the way he would rant about certain books he had read before recommending them to Dark, his smile wide and pure. They especially missed his voice. So soothing that it could calm the two frantic souls with just a few words. So quiet and sweet that it could rid Dark of almost any headache. 

Dark missed Host. 

About a month into the routine of finding and chasing, Dark found another note, with Host stuck to it. His breathe caught in his throat when he saw the two toned man putting the note on his desk, along with a single rose. 

Dark focused all his energy on Damian, stopping the soul inside him from grabbing Host then and there. 

Host was not in a much better position. He looked up at the demon, his bandages obviously new and clean, starting to collect blood from his eye sockets.

It was silent for a long moment, the two both trying to figure out what to do next.

Finally, Host mumbles something just loud enough for Dark to hear.

“The Host knew that he should’ve looked into the future today.”

Dark chuckled at this, finally able to move again. He made his way to the younger ego, his steps less confident then usual.

Host sighed, stopping Dark in his tracks again. 

“The Host would like to apologize. The Host knows that he must’ve overstepped his boundaries.”

Dark opened his mouth to speak, only to shut it again when he saw the note. From where he stood, he could not see what was written on the yellow sticky, but the thought of what it might say made his heart, that he seemed to have forgotten he had, skip a beat. 

Host must’ve sensed where Dark’s eyes were and stiffened.

“The Host will stop leaving the notes if Dark wishes,” the blind man almost whimpered, his face red from embarrassment.

Dark had never seen him like this, so flustered and nervous. This was not the level-headed man he had known for years. He could not believe he had this effect on the Host. The new information of this cemented his decision. 

“Host, I would like for you to stop leaving these notes,” he said, trying his best to keep his voice leveled.

The Host’s shoulders slumped. He gripped the rose and sticky note close to his chest, the blood from his eyes running down his check. 

Dark looked down, guilty. He did not like that look on his beloved Host.

“I would rather you tell me what’s on your mind in person.”

The male seer glanced up at the dark ego, despite his lack of sight, with his mouth slightly agape. He was afraid that he was misunderstanding the older man. He hoped that was not the case. 

Dark glanced the flower and note still clutched tightly in the anxious hands of Host. 

“What does that one say?” He asked, reach his hand out. 

Host awkwardly offered the rose to Dark, smiling softly when his fingers brushed the other’s. With a nervous gulp of air, he stared at Dark head on, again, despite his lack of vision.

Even so, Dark knew deep down that Host must’ve been staring into his soul. Or, souls in his case.

“Darkiplier,” Host said, his narrating at a halt. “’I hope you have a lovely day. Make sure to take a break. I care deeply about you and only wish for you to be taken care of.’”

He took another deep breathe, he looked towards his feet.

“I want to make sure you’re taken care of...and loved...”

Dark could not contain his smile or aura. He reached out once again, this time for the Host’s hand.

“All of that was on the small piece of paper?” He asked, jokingly when Host’s hand was in his. 

“The Host may have improvised at the end,” Host chuckled lightly, caressing Dark’s knuckles with his thumb.

They stood there in silence once more, each man with a smile on his face and a million thoughts in their heads. They did not care about the time, or about the fact that they both had work to get doing. Even the lost souls, who were always shouting and arguing in Dark’s head, were quiet, just enjoying the cute moment.

“Let me take you to dinner tonight,” Dark finally spoke up, pulling Host closer to him.

“A date?” Host mumbled, his mind still obviously at work.

“If you’d like to call it that.”

Host smiled wider, squeezing his demon counter part’s hand.

“The Host-...I would like that, very much.” 

Neither of them spoke again as Host stuck the sticky note onto Dark’s suit jacket and trying to release his hand. In retaliation, Dark squeezed his hand harder. Host chuckled, settling for leading Dark to his office door. There, Dark finally let go of Host’s hand. 

Host waved as he walked out, his smile still imprinted on his face. Dark waved back, his smile just as fond and evident.

“See you tonight, Host,” Dark called after him, quietly. 

“You know where to find me,” was the response he received.

When Host was out of sight, Dark closed his office door, his heart still beating quickly. He found himself walking past his desk with his newest note in hand. Right behind the desk was a bulletin board filled with pages of work. Slightly pushing past those papers of numbers and reports, Dark revealed his collection of messy written notes, all on yellow sticky note paper. He added his latest reason to smile before producing another sticky note from his pocket. This one was a bright pink, and it’s handwriting was much neater and easier to read.

‘Host wakes up early to leave those notes in your office before disappearing to the Septic’s for the rest of the day to rant to Jamison about you. You should catch him in your office @ 7:30. 

Love, Wilford.’

With a deep chuckle, Dark added that note to his board as well, before turning to his work, finally. His red aura was flickering wildly, meaning Celine was either angry or excited.

But Dark felt no anger, only bliss.

“Thanks, Wil.”

Authors Note: This Is a good sized fic if i do say so myself. Again, I am so sorry that it took so long. I honestly love this pair and kinda wanna make Host’s POV. You all should let me know if that would be something you’d be interested in. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this! Thank you for taking the time to read it!

[pastelbatfandoms]

...Like one of your French girls

A/N: A side story for My OC Renee West Wells and Sherloque Wells from The Flash. Takes place during season 5. A little back story since I haven’t written that part yet. Thanks to Nora,Renee finds out her long lost love Eobard Thawne aka Reverse Flash is alive in the future but locked up and goes to see him,Eobard manipulates her to his side again,along with Nora,they keep it a secret until Sherloque (who Renee is currently dating) uses his Detective skills and is not too happy with what he finds out,leaving things with Renee up in the air....

Warnings: Smut because it’s a Wells and I can’t help it ♥ Also Sherloque will not stop trying to persuade me to write about him. Slow burn a bit of Cat & Mouse. 

~~~~~~

Renee should have known Sherloque would find out,he was a Detective after all. What she hadn’t planned on was him saying something in front of Barry,Iris and the rest of Team Flash. Who,known for being a bit judgemental,didn’t take it well. 

If Renee was honest with herself she could understand why Sherloque had made that descion,he felt hurt and betrayed and wanted Renee to feel some of that as well. While Renee hadn’t at first,ultimately leading to Obsidian Storm taking over and joining up with her niece XS,as well as Weather Witch,Bug Eyed Bandit and Rag Doll as The Young Rogues. Eventually after what happened with Nora and Eobard leaving once again,Renee saw the error of her ways and re joined Team Flash.

It was their that Sherloque told them he was leaving back to his Earth,he didn’t look at Renee when he said it but Renee looked at him.Upset but not surprised,if her lover had treated her the way she had treated Sherloque,she would leave too. 

But she wasn’t going to let him leave without at least explaining herself or letting him know that she had cared or does really care for him. 

Biting her lip,Renee works up the nerve then finally clears her throat to get Sherloque’s attention. Sherloque squints up at her in question,as Renee makes a gesture with her head for them to talk in private. Sherloque at first appears to not want too,then eyeing her up and down,excuses himself and follows Renee out of the room. 

Once in the lounge part of Star Labs,Sherloque turns,his hands in his pockets as he regards Renee. “So what iz it you want to talk about?” He asks cooly. 

Renee drops her guard then,hating how distant Sherloque is with her now. “Sherloque I...I am so sorry.” She looks up at him,hoping he can read the sincerity behind her eyes. 

As a so called master detective,Sherloque obviously can but chooses to ignore it,as he looks away with a tsk. “ Iz that all?’ The Frenchman asks. 

“No...” Renee lets out a breath in exasperation,not at him but herself and the situation she had put them in. “Of course not. Look I know you’re mad and hurt and probably hate me,I would too if I were you. But I didn’t mean to hurt you,not intentionally,I do care about you. Honestly I wasn’t expecting to see you again after our one night encounter,then after I left Earth 2,left Harry,I was just lost and you were there but then I started to have feelings for you and then Eobard showed back up and mixed those all up,which I should hate him for but...” The words came spilling out,one after another,unable to contain them or even make sense of them,just wanting Sherloque to know everything she felt in that moment. “I’m sorry you don’t need someone like me,I mean technically you’ve already dealt with me 6 times,why make it a 7th? In fact this was probably a bad idea,I should go.” Seeming to change her mind Renee starts to walk away,when Sherloque,who had been quiet the entire time,grabbed her by the wrist to stop her. “Renee halte’. “

 Pulling her towards him,Renee didn’t have time to react before Sherloque’s lips were on hers,kissing her as if he never wanted to let go. When he did,it was to say. “ I forgive you,you `are not something I have to,how you say,deal with. You are ‘Mon indispensable to me. Mon amour.” 

Renee gazed up at him,studying Sherloque almost like he did with everyone else,but there was no apprehension on Sherloque’s face only sincerity and love.Renee smiled then, “You’re special to me too Sherloque.” 

Sherloque kissed her again,this time slower,as Renee murmured breathlessly between kisses. “Don’t leave Sherloque,I need you,please.” 

“Non. I won’t. Mon avenir “ Sherloque promised,placing his forehead close to Renee’s as they held one another.  

The Following Day... Sherloque POV

Sherloque had been looking for Renee everywhere, at Star Labs,they had just made up and now she had disappeared without a trace. “Where have you gone Ma Tigresse...” Sherloque wondered,muttering the pet name he had for her. Sherloque knew she hadn’t actually left,it was a game she liked,playing hard to get...Sherloque will admit being a Detective he enjoyed it as well,But he was still perplexed as to where Renee had hid off too. So perplexed he even asked Cisco. 

Cisco looked up from the computers and shook his head frowning. “No sorry Sherli I haven’t seen her.”

Sherloque frowned back at the hated nickname but chose to ignore it for the moment.

Cisco stood up then. “I could help you look for her.” 

Sherloque hesitated,making a warding off gesture,shaking his head. “Non,that iz not ne’ssacary.” 

But Cisco insisted following Sherloque,who was heading down to the lounge. 

Sherloque looked back,”Yet you are’ coming anywayz.” He muttered under his breath. 

Once they had reached the lounge and opened the door,Sherloque’s eyes immediately fell onto Renee. Ah there she was. ((Here she iz indeed...)) Sherloque thought,trailing his eyes up and down taking in her,very naked,form as she lay across the couches. Then he noticed Cisco catching up with him and immediately rushed into the room,closing the door so only Sherloque’s face was shown as he shouted. “Ah I found Renee!”

Cisco stopped. “Is she okay?” He asked.

“She iz fine!” Sherloque reassured him trying not to appear nervous. “Very fine indeed...” He murmured,glancing back again at her. Then snapping out of it turned back to Cisco. “I can take it from here.” 

Cisco frowned,”If you’re sure...” Probably thinking Sherloque was just being weird and secretive again.

Sherloque shook his head waving Cisco off. “Oui,very sure!” Sherloque insisted. Waiting until Cisco had left to fully close the door behind him. 

Closing his eyes and Letting out a breath in relief that Cisco hadn’t caught his best friend,and Ex,laying naked in the lounge,all for Sherloque,he forgot for a moment that HIS girlfriend was indeed laying naked waiting for him. Until she spoke up. 

“Sherloque...paint me like one of your french girls...” Renee said softly,quoting that very famous scene from Titanic. 

But Sherloque knew it wasn’t just a euphemism. As he opened his eyes and let out under his breath. “ Oh Tu es toute simplement ravissante’”  Sherloque did paint in his free time and knew Renee was curious about body painting.

“ One moment mon amour.” Putting up a finger,Sherloque looked around then spotted his paints he kept stashed in the lounge,letting out a pleased “Ah!” upon finding it. Once he had retrieved his body paints,Sherloque turned back to Renee,with a wicked grin. “Let uz begin.” 

Renee’s POV

Renee had been waiting for almost half an hour,wondering when Sherloque was going to find her. And was relieved when he finally did,glancing at his hungry look now as he held the paints,his eyes roaming over her body,she was glad she had waited. 

Renee suppressed a shiver,not out of being cold,as Sherloque advanced towards her. 

Then he stopped,setting his paints down as he removed his long coat and rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt,slowly because he knew Renee was watching. And she was. 

Renee watched every gesture and nuance her boyfriend made,admiring his toned arms but also his ability to size her up as much as she was sizing him up,seeming to appear cool yet interested all the same time,damn did the French go to school for Seduction 101? or was it because he was also a Detective and knew by her eyes,everything Renee was wanting in that moment. 

Renee surmised it was both. She followed Sherloque with her eyes as he knelt in front of her. “Sit up Tigresse.” Sherloque instructed her with a nod of his head. Renee did as she was told gazing up at Sherloque’s intense expression,who was frowning in concentration already in artist mode,Renee openly shivered this time as Sherloque started painting her chest,brushing alongside her nipple. 

“A little excited My pet?” Sherloque smirked already knowing the answer. 

Renee cleared her throat,looking away. “No,I’m fine.” She lied. 

Sherloque gave a disbelieving sound but continued. “Relaxe’...” He told her. “Close your eyez.”

Renee did,feeling instead of seeing every stroke he made with the brush against her skin,swirling it around her nipples and down her stomach. Talk about four play...

In what seemed like forever,but wasn’t nearly long enough,Sherloque told her to open her eyes,she did looking down and seeing awash of colors in blue,black and streaks of yellow over the front of her body. It took her a moment to realize he had painted a Thunderstorm. 

“Sherloque it’s beautiful...” Renee whispered. 

Sherloque gave a small smile but he wasn’t done yet,as he ran a hand up Renee’s legs. “Open.” 

Renee did,slowly at first until she felt Sherloque’s hands grip her thighs,telling her without words,to open wider. Renee’s eyes closed once again as she felt Sherloque’s paint brush glide up her leg closer to more while intimate parts as he gently pushed her thighs open. 

Stopping to admire the view appreciatively. “Perfection...” He murmured under his breath. As he started to paint her inner thighs,then letting out a “Mmmm” of feigned annoyance,rubbed at the spot he had just painted. “Looks like I missed a spot. Don’t worry Mon Cheri I clean it.” 

Renee opened her eyes long enough to look down into Sherloque’s own,dark with lust as he trailed kisses up her thighs,every touch was slow and sensual,making Renee moan and drop her head back once Sherloque’s mouth went where she really needed it to go. 

Slowly,languidly he licked up her,seeming to devour every taste and savor every moan that came from her lips,as she came with a shudder. 

Sherloque let up then,raising to meet her as she said breathlessly,eyes closed. “Make me forget Sherloque.” 

“Forget what Mi Amour?” Sherloque asked,though he knew for the most part what she meant. 

Renee’s eyes opened then,dark with lust,as she stared into Sherloque’s own lust filled eyes. “Everything.” She murmured. 

Sherloque’s lips were on hers then,kissing her passionately,she wrapped her arms around Sherloque as he picked her up and carried her to his makeshift bed. 

Once on the bed Sherloque positioned himself above her,giving her a long kiss as he slowly stroked her,Renee was more then ready when Sherloque thrust inside her with a low moan. 

The feeling of his cock inside her,made Renee want to come right then as they held each other close. “Eager are we Mon cher?” Sherloque asked in a teasing manner. But stopped moving when he felt Renee clench around him. Sherloque tskd,putting a finger to Renee’s lips. “Non My pet don’t cum yet,I want it to last.” Sherloque whispered seductively into her ear.

At his command Renee willed the feeling to pass,opening her mouth to suck on Sherloque’s finger as he slowly moved inside her again. 

He cupped her face then,kissing her slowly as they made love,then gripped her breast to lick her nipple,she shuddered and then those two words low in her ear. “Cum for me Ma Tigresse’” as he slowly fucked her into submission, “Ah yes My love that’s it.” Renee felt every inch as him as she came with a low cry “Sherloque!” and felt him cum inside right along with her. 

Afterwards they lay in each others arms,reveling in the after glow. When suddenly they hear a door open,Renee sits up grateful the blanket is covering them. Then her eyes widen as she realizes who was standing there. Harrison Wells,her husband. 

“Harry I...” Renee’s words die on her lips,at a loss. True they were estranged but she had never told him about Sherloque. 

Harry seems to be at a loss for words as well as he simply stares at them both then turns and walks out. 

Renee gets up quickly dressing. “I’m sorry Sherloque,I didn’t know Harry was going to be here. I need to go.” Renee says hastily. 

“Of course I understandz.” Sherloque answers with a gesture. “Go.” As Renee quickly walks out the door. 

“Harry wait!” Renee yelled,Once she had caught up with Harry in the hall of the cortex. Harry turns around but still says nothing. Thinking he is angry or in shock,Renee tries to apologize. “Harry I’m sorry I know we were apart but I should have told you about Sherloque.” 

“No need. I already knew.” Harry finally spoke,but his voice was different some how,raspier. 

“How?” Renee asked frowning but then her expression turned to one of realization as she studied him. “You’re not Harry...”

Harrison,or who she thought was,let out a dark chuckle and smirked. “No I’m not.” 

“Eobard...” Renee whispered. Not sure how to feel seeing him standing there once again looking like Harrison Wells.

“ I know you have a thing for this detective,he is a Wells after all...” Eobard Thawne said,leaning closer into her. “But just remember YOU belong to ME.” Eobard whispered in her ear then eyes flashing red,he zips away. 

Leaving Renee shaken,not sure if that was a promise or a threat and if she really wanted to find out....

To be continued...

[lovemesomesurveys]

How's life? Blah.

Do you like bananas? Yeah. It’s been awhile since I’ve had one, though.

Do you like country music? Some, yeah.

What's the last thing you had to drink? Starbucks Doubleshot energy drink.

What is the last four digits of your phone number? Uh, no.

Has anyone ever given you butterflies? If so, aren’t they amazing? Man, I haven’t experienced that kind of butterfly feeling in so long. It’s been a few years.

Are you a girl? I am.

How's your neck? It’s fine at the moment.

Do you like your computer mouse? I have a laptop, so it has the built in trackpad. 

How's your love life? Completely non-existent. 

Can you play "My Life Will Go On" by Celine Dion on the piano? No.

How many times do you brush your teeth a day? Once at least.

Do you like the movie Superbad? Nah.

Do you like pancakes? Sure. Waffles are better, though. What's your number's area code? Not sharing that.

Do you like Paramore? Yeah.

Got a MySpace? It must still exist out there since I never deleted or deactivated it. Unless Myspace did from being inactive for so long. *shrug*

Do you judge people? I feel like everyone does that at least a bit <<<

Do you plan on getting married? No.

Ever been given a promise ring? Nope.

Relationship status? S i n g l e.

Sexual orientation? Straight.

Would you rather be told the truth and have it hurt or be lied to? I mean, you can spare me if it’s something like, “Wow, your new haircut looks like shit” or something haha.

Have you ever been in a beauty pageant? Haaa. No.

Do you have any step-parents? Nope.

Who do you text the most? My mom.

Is music a daily part of your life? No. It’s weird, like I don’t listen to music nearly as often as I used to. 

Would you change anything about your life? Yeah, a few things.

Describe the socks you're wearing. They’re Christmas socks. 

Do you still talk to the person who hurt you most in life? Why or why not? No.

How far have you ever been away from home? Just to Atlanta, Georgia (I’m from California).

Have you ever given your number to a complete stranger? At first I was like, uh, no, but technically you are when filling out paperwork or anything that may ask for your number. 

What color is your keyboard? Black keys and the letters/numbers/symbols are white. Your mouse? The trackpad (and entire laptop) is silver.

Desktop or laptop? I’ve made that clear by now.

Do you like sweet tea? I used to, but it’s not something I’d gravitate towards anymore. I haven’t had it in several years.

How much sugar do you put in your tea? Just a packet, usually. Two at most.

Do you wear a lot of makeup? I haven’t worn any makeup at all in like 3 years.

Have you ever called someone useless? I say that about myself all the time.

Are you a virgin? Yes.

Do you have a wood or glass dining room table? We don’t have a dining table or a dining room. It was converted into a bedroom. 

Who can you always vent to? Ya’ll, ha.

Are you one to beg people to comment your pictures on MySpace? Myspace is dead, but ew no I don’t beg people to comment on my pictures or anything else for that matter.

Do you like music? Yes.

Have you ever used someone? Definitely not proud to admit that I have before. :/

Has someone ever used you? Yes.

Do you hate it when people don't type correctly? If it’s really bad.

Do you hate anyone at all? No.

Do you love anyone? I love my family.

And your best friend's name is..? Well, to me she’s mom. (:

Do you know how to play beer pong? I know how it’s played, but I’ve never played myself.

Have you ever been in love? Or did you just think you were at the time? I believe so.

What's your name, anyways? Stephanie.

Are you doing anything besides this? I’m listening to an ASMR video.

Do you get annoyed how many surveys ask your favorite color? That one doesn’t bother me, but there’s a few other questions that do.

So.. what's your favorite color? Pastels, rose gold, mint green, coral, and yellow.

Do you like Mozart? Sure. I enjoy classical piano music.

Do you live by quotes that are an explanation of what you're going through? I do love relatable quotes that put into words what I can’t.

Do you hate when you're wrong? I’m wrong a lot and I can admit when I’m wrong.

Do you live in the country? No.

Do you tend to get attached easily? No.

Do you still watch American Idol? No, I stopped watched several years ago.

Do you have a cell phone? Yes.

Ever been broken? Oh, yes. Even physically I feel that way.

Are you still trying to figure out who you are? In some ways, yes.

Is Joe Jonas really hotter than Nick? I always thought so, ha. He was my favorite Jobro back in the day.

How's your back? Not good.

Do you get drunk? If so, are you an alcoholic, or just do it for the rush? Not anymore. I haven’t drank alcohol in 7 years now. I have no desire for it.

Do you make a lot of mistakes? I sure feel like I do.

Do you regret any of them mistakes? I have a lot of regrets. Tell me about the person you're crazy about? There isn’t anyone in my life romantically speaking.

Favorite flavor pudding? I don’t like pudding. It’s a texture thing.

Don't you hate mosquitos? I hate when they bite me and make me itch. Thankfully, it’s been quite awhile since I’ve had a mosquito bite. Or any bug bite, actually.

[intervital]

I didn't want an entire year to lapse before I even wrote in this "before I die" journal so here is the decorated front and back covers, some planning, and a black and white photo of what a @beforeidieproject wall looks like. The journal helps you accomplish your dream in 100 days. The before I die wall is a public art project where people write their bucket list goals on a chalkboard. Funds from this journal, created by @candychangland, and the Before I Die book support that project as well as @ritualfields. Do check them all out, they're incredible to read.

Before I Die I want to become a prolific, engaged & brave writer. I know I have potential and feel confident enough to execute:

Prolific ~ read deeply and widely, submit simultaneously, update my & The AALR's social media frequently, blog at least once a week, work on more than one project, journal consistently, make marginalia

Engaged ~ write book reviews on faves on Goodreads, Amazon & elsewhere, connect with authors and writers and let them know you enjoy their work, attend & volunteer at readings, share opportunities, table for The AALR & LAKAS zine, critique others' work, be active on bookstagram & litsy

Brave ~ go for residencies & fellowships, write pitches, apply for publishing jobs, do open mics again, read & perform at events, attempt new genres & mediums, do writing workshops again

I've been making headway at the start of 2020, tho it's been nerve-wracking to wait for responses. But it's all positive so far so yay. I'm working on promoting myself better. I actually got published in two zines last year but I didn't want to share cuz it was tech old work. But fuck it, I'm still proud of those words so no more bashfulness.

The front cover is a vision board of sorts. I seek perfect wax seals, high and wide-ranging productivity, letters, reading, traveling, different perspectives on the same subject, adventure, facing fears, adoring my face & being, trusting myself, stationery, ephemera, fully immersed, discovery, and magic. I left that paper clip and oval paper sticker blank because I don't know if I should number it as "Vol. I" or put my name. I really want this to work out but we'll see.

Image descriptions:

Front cover of “Before I Die” journal. In the middle in black font are the words “Before I die I want to” and in pink marker I wrote “become a prolific, engaged & brave writer”.

At the top is a black and white sticker that looks like an old, pixelated computer program window. The mouse hand is pointing at “print” and there’s icons for portrait, final, editorial, and sketch. There’s a cascading, overflowing paper reel coming from the program with the word “print” over and over.

The top right of the book is a sticker of the full moon lighting the sea and the blue words beneath it says “The moonlight on the sea”.

There’s a sticker of a red wax seal with a “Z”.

A sticker of the words “lost in another world” on brown.

A red daruma ink stamp with a silver eye.

A sticker on its side that looks paper clipped and is a blank brown paper oval on top of a white rectangle paper

A silver ink stamp dandelion you make wishes on purple to red ombré paper.

A small sticker of a brown paper pad and a purple pen inking a purple splotch.

A black and white was hit tape of a hot air balloon above mountains and among the stars.

A puzzle piece sticker of a street lamp and buildings in the back beneath a blue sky.

Black ink stamp of a mountainous island and a message in a bottle floating in the ocean. Beneath is a washi tape of purple concentric half circles that look like waves.

White cotton lace.

A slim rectangle in gray that says “gray areas and expectations”.

A cancelled postage of a pink cherry blossom branch on teal background with gold edges. Sittin on the stamp’s upper right corner is a green ink bespectacled boy in stripes reading a book on a wooden floor paper.

A black ink stamp of a steering wheel and the words “move me” on blue, pink, and orange paper.

A yellow washi tape of words that look vintage.

A washi tape that features a map, passport stamp, train, ticket, and a boat & island on waves.

Washi tape of black and white doodles of a hill with trees, mountains and stars, rowing boat, and a house on a hill.

A sticker puzzle piece of some people on white stamps seen from the distance.

A soft texture cork washi tape that shows golden outlined sedimentary rocks.

A sticker of a drawing of a bottle with a cork that contains a floating yellow hot air balloon among clouds and blue land.

And a 3D sticker that looks somewhat like a quirky rolling pin that says “Trust yourself”

An autograph in pink by Candy Chang that reads:

“For Eileen

Remember what matters to you

*Sparkling star*

Candy Chang”

The “One hundred sessions” page where you “Track your plans and progress” I wrote in different ink colors:

“01 Figure out @ least 5 places for “Slow Dance Desire”

02 Apply for A Public Space Editorial Fellowship.

03 Work on sketchbook Project(s)

04 Blog & plan out next three”

Black and white photo of a “before I die” chalkboard wall which has the repeating prompt “Before I die I want to _______________”

Some answers written in chalk: have a a family of my own, be a friend and take nothing back, I want to drink from the Stanley Cup, $Live without money, hug my boyfriend ❤, make a change through my artwork, fall in love, love myself, learn everything & be free, become a millionaire, find my mom

Closeups of my front cover.

And then finally, the back cover which has a sticker of two brown circles and a brown thread intertwining and wrapped around them which you’d find on a back of a large envelope.

There’s a quote beneath that says:

“There is no more miserable

human being than one in whom

nothing is habitual but indecision.

William James”

Then you see the barcode in the bottom right corner.

[elisaglsn]

spacebar - Wikipedia

spacebar - Wikipedia If the space bar still does not work, you should carefully remove the key from the keyboard next. With a small screwdriver and a little patience, the button should be released in a few moments. The keyboard and mouse on a computer tend to wear out the most, especially if you use them for several hours a day. Although the current hardware is relatively robust and prone to failure, problems can still arise. @Sven Didn't say that he wasn't right. But he can save his constant suggestion. But he's absolutely right! I would not do anything on guarantee here, but on guarantee… It always starts again. You don't need to put the pro in quotes. Delivery notes and order confirmations by email can be accepted in individual cases. If you couldn't find an FAQ article that would help you fix the problem, please contact our customer support team yesterday. Operating instructions and manuals are also available on the support page. Please tick the box "Enter promo code" when you are in the RazerStore on the shopping cart page.

Why doesn't the keyboard work?

If the keyboard doesn't work - reinstall the drivers. If the keyboard doesn't work, try reinstalling the drivers: in Control Panel, open System and Security> System> Device Manager. Select "Keyboards" in the Device Manager and right-click your keyboard.

The keyboards are not water resistant. You must not immerse the keyboards in liquid or clean them in a dishwasher.

How do I release the Caps Lock key?

< div itemScope itemProp = "acceptedAnswer" itemType = "https://schema.org/Answer">

turn off Caps Lock or Capslock The Caps Lock is to the left of the "A" or above the [Shift] key on your keyboard. Identifiable by the arrow pointing downwards. You deactivate the button by tapping it once. Conversely, you can also reactivate the button.

Spilled liquids are usually worse, which is why you should dry the keyboard immediately.

Apple only recommends the use of compressed air.

Contrary to the opinion of many, the keys of Apple keyboards can also be cleaned without a special factory.

Touch a key to ensure that the computer is completely turned off. Isopropyl alcohol dries very quickly, so it is a better alternative than water. You can get it in most drug stores and general stores. If you are cleaning a laptop or membrane keyboard, try to hold it at an angle of about 75 degrees as you blow it off so that it is not completely vertical. Compressed air is often available in office supply stores, electronics stores, and department stores. The bright yellow mass has antibacterial properties. The best thing, however, is that it's easy to push into the keyboard gaps. You simply spread the elastic mass over your keyboard, press it and then pull it off again. The result is usually pretty good. If you have more time, you can also clean the keyboard more thoroughly and carefully remove the individual keys. You should only do this with computer keyboards, as laptop keyboards can break quickly. You can already remove coarse dirt by turning the keyboard once and tapping the back of the hand carefully. Then the dirt trickles out of the keyboard onto the table. That's what I call service! Our PC-USB products are only for use with a PC and we do not support their use with a Playstation 3 or Xbox 360 console. A valid proof of purchase is defined as a dated receipt from a Razer authorized dealer. The receipt must contain the product description and the price. I always use the tweezers to remove the keys and carefully grip the lower end of the key, which is the end that is closest to me when I sit in front of the keyboard. It is also important that the tweezers do not grip the button too far, as there may be brackets there. Care should also be taken to grab the button in the middle (and not to the right or left of one of the corners). removed to remove the dirt underneath.

[prevodioci-blog]

Niehime To Kemono No Ou

Sunda offers secure and high-quality machine translation tools and services that help you translate between Finnish and English. The dispersed Jews had forgotten Hebrew, their ancestral language, and needed the Bible to be translated into Greek to be able to read it. This translation is known as the Septuagint”, a name that refers to the seventy translators who were commissioned to translate the Hebrew Bible in Alexandria, Egypt. Patricia Travers, 82, American violinist, died of cancer. Ron Fimrite, 79, American sports journalist (Sports Illustrated), pancreatic died of cancer. Users from different backgrounds translate and retrieve English to Spanish information by simply clicking on any document on their computers using Babylon software; Babylon has been voted by millions as the most convenient and user-friendly English to Spanish translation tool available on Blue Universe the market today. In English, some readers prefer the Authorized King James Version of the Bible to modern translations, and Shakespeare in the original of c. 1600 to modern translations. You pick your set of languages and you do a quick online test, proof of your capabilities. Thanks to our unique platform, English translators from all over the world come together. Like their ancestors, contemporary translators have substantially helped to shape the languages into which they have translated. In the 12th and 13th centuries, the Toledo School of Translators (Escuela de Traductores de Toledo) became a meeting point for European scholars who - attracted by the high wages they were offered - traveled and settled down in Toledo, Spain, to translate major philosophical, religious, scientific and medical works from Arabic, Greek and Hebrew into Latin and Castilian.

Some common Spanish loanwords in English include albino, aficionado, alligator - an Anglicisation of el lagarto, ‘the lizard' - and avocado. Another great source is the website by Nancy Thuleen She is a German professor who published a large quantity of grammar exercises from A-Z as well as activities, vocabulary exercises, videos, reading and writing exercises, lyrics and exercises on German history and culture. According to Rushkoff, Gary Henderson Radzik, an engineer came about with this Gaia hypothesis when he pondered that: "Nature just decided, 'Okay, if I want to get conscious, I'm gonna need technology to do it because these people don't have clear Blue Universe prevodilacka agenicja enough minds to use telepathy. I actually removed the first translation I had for the haiku on morning glories, and ended up cobbling together my own "translation" from the work of others, because on reading the literal meaning I decided that he had added too much. I've tried many other online translators but none come close to Google's convenience and auto-language detection. Cons: When translating longer pieces of text, Google Translate cannot be trusted for accuracy. Having spent time learning Chinese, Spanish, German, Hebrew, and French, this has been the most helpful for easily learning Italian, and a similar approach would be for other languages.

SYSTRAN English translation software is dependable and used by millions of people worldwide. We've gotten about 1,500 words translated on a daily basis through their services. Translators who work remotely receive and submit their work electronically, and must sometimes deal with the pressure of deadlines and tight schedules. The purpose of translation apps is to provide you with fast and convenient translations-not to elaborate on the mechanics of the Japanese language. Gengo ensures quality English to Spanish translation at scale. I did this for Italy and found it a great help as not much English is spoken in Southern Italy so I went prepared for it. There's nothing worse than expecting the locals to speak your language Blue Universe in their own country, you need to make some effort. You can only translate from English do the other 3 languages, you do not yet have tasks to translate from other native language to English. At one time I was learning Spanish and loved to exercise my questionable skills on ham radio day to speak with South America, Mexico and even Spain. Well connected with the best translators through the European Union of Associations of Translation Companies. Betty Lou Keim, 71, American actress, died of lung cancer. Once Google tool bar is downloaded on your pc, then go to any foreign language site and put your mouse pointer on any word, you will see a small pop-up window will show the translation of that word in your own language.

In our translation courses, students work with Google Translator Toolkit, Memsource, and SDL Trados Studio as learning computer-assisted tools in their translation practice. Much dies and changes as we progress through time, but slang adds much to language and in the way people communicate. Times of Contempt (official English translation, literal translation: The Time of Disdain, early title was annouced as Times of Anger, original Polish Czas pogardy), written by Andrzej Sapkowski, first published in Poland in 1995, is the fourth book in the Witcher series and the second novel in the Witcher saga. Please use the comment section here as much as you want for questions, suggestions, or letting folks know about your personal experiences learning Spanish or dealing with English to Spanish translations. People in every country (including your own) are becoming "Westernized" like Americans because of the global communication methods such as satellite TV and international magazines where Americanism is prominently displayed as a rich lifestyle to desire when it is actually a starved and malnourished lifestyle of trying to fill one's life with material possessions and a party atmosphere to escape the reality that most Americans lack true love and true friendships.

Translator tool not only translate an entire uploaded file, but also can translate a website, Wikipedia articles and Google knoll documents. Use Google translate as a help with translating difficult passages or words from a foreign language into English, and not the other way around. I m interested to learn English language. At this point and time, we are using all these media and mediums, and they do affect us. If controlling one's mind means being robotic or zombie-like, I concede that point. He was hired as an associate professor in the new Institute of Interpreters and Translators (later renamed the Institute of Translation Studies) created https://blueuniveblueuniverse.rs/ in 1964 within the University of Amsterdam, and also wrote a number of influential articles about translation. Members can help one another find specific definitions and translations into Spanish on general medicine or any specific field, and share information with professionals specialized in medicine. Translated in english it means "Beware the wrath of a patient man". Translators must read the original language fluently. We have a basic online language translator that is machine-based that helps the user undertake free translation of any word, phrase, or sentence they may want to. This free online translator, however, is not fully accurate.

Demand also should be strong for translators of Arabic and other Middle Eastern languages; for the principal Asian languages including Chinese, Japanese, Hindi, and Korean; and for the indigenous languages from Mexico and Central America such as Mixtec, Zapotec, and Mayan languages. If some tourists were to visit South Africa, they must try and visit Santa Hospital next or the present hospitals that deal with TB to get a better picture of what I am talking about, as the reader is now informed, came around the time when Gold was found and Crown Mines and other mines were opened on the fringes of Johannesburg-and these man-made yellow mountains blueuniverse.rs of the extracted gold(which can still be recycled from that soil, although the government has stopped that practice)- today in South Africa. We specialize in high-volume and complex professional Italian translations, allowing us to have faster turnaround times and more competitive rates for large projects. Laura Chapman Hruska, 74, was an American lawyer, novelist, and co-founder and editor in chief of the Soho Press, died of cancer. The Spanish language is originated from the Vulgar Latin which was brought by the Romans during Punic Second War which started in 210 BC. Now, Spanish is spoken in almost 20 countries worldwide.

Knows not just Portuguese and Spanish, but 93 other languages as well. For professional , human translations in German get an instant free quote from our expert translators. But at this point and time we've been thoroughly enslaved by technology's technique, and made to self-iincacerate ourselves with, onto and within these techniques and technologies from what these companies offering these invisible Technologies and Techniques that they use to make people obey and then controlling them for gainful ends which we will be discussing specifically below, and generally throughout this hub. The elite class is responsible for the state Blue Universe agenicja za prevođenje of the African nation that we find ourselves in. Our children learn and copy from the habits we display and carry-on-when in their presence, and we send them to schools that do not reflect their people's values, cultures, customs, traditions, history and languages. The ‘official' (or for want of a less bureaucratic word, ‘recommended') Arabic translation of the Passport by Walid Nabhan is also on its way; the Arabic translation distributed in Zagreb was done by hand, spontaneously, by the mother of a student who came to the poetry workshops I gave in Saint-Claude, in the French Jura mountains, during the second week of May.

You can see all the languages available for translation by examining the available_ languages attribute. DHCTranslations is confident to say that we provide high-quality translations every time. Bo Griffin, 51, American radio and television personality, died of colorectal cancer. Gengo is a leading provider of professional English to Spanish translation. Another important reason to learn my language, is that Italian is the language that has a more direct derivation from the Latin, through the Italian vernacular of 1200-1300. Many of the Media Ecologists Guru resonate with the culture of Africans in south Africa. Notaries, even if fluent in the language the document has been translated to, cannot certify translations; it is not an authorized duty. Whenever you need a translation tool to communicate with friends, relatives or business partners, travel abroad, or learn languages, our Web Translation by ImTranslator is always here to assist you. For your personal convenient, if you visit a site with foreign language and only want to see word by word translation of that site. While the Internet is needed for all features, the here app offers in-depth word and sentence translations to and from the Italian language. SPATRAref , a generic reference to translated Spanish articles.

Chaucer translated the Roman de la Rose” from French, and Boethius's works from Latin. Sheldon Gilgore, 77, American physician, President of Pfizer (1971-1986) and Searle (1986-1995), died of pancreatic cancer. When McLuhan, who coined the term "Global Village," talks of"The Extensions Of Man," he is referring to how n individual or society creates or makes use something that extends the human body or mind in an innovative way. It is estimated that native English speakers can recognise around 3,000 Spanish words. 1) In this example, I am going to ask my device to help me translate French words to English. Bonus Feature - Learn and Master the pronunciation as English Arabic Translator has in built audio feature. Now you can learn Arabic or English language at your convenience, while driving, playing games, in class, while on travel, while commuting to work, with friends, etc. It would be a pleasure for me to teach you Persian,Dari , Pushtu and English languages Via Skype. She personally translates or reviews all translations done by Gaucha Translations. Friends, I recommend your to use to translate any numbers to Russian and English languages. Thanks for reading my list of translations, commenting in my article, and pinning and sharing my Hub. They provide a cheap translation for clients while giving a fair pay rate to its translators.

Although we translate birth certificate from Hindi to all Foreign languages but we mainly receive cases for translation of Birth certificate from Hindi to English, French, German, Russian, Portuguese, Polish, Czech, Arabic, etc. The Wampanoag were a Native American people living in the southeastern Massachusetts and Rhode Island area at the time of English settlement. Following that is a quick demonstration on how to translate the words in question to English. Translating Spanish needs localising even if the business is already operating in a Spanish-speaking market so that communication is not hindered. It is this activating dimension of popular free radio that most distinguishes it from the usual pacifying operations of the mass media and that also posed the greatest threat to the authorities; if people were just sitting at home listening to strange political broadcasts, or being urged to participate in conventional, organised political actions such as demonstrations that would be tolerable but once you start mobilising a massive and unpredictable political affectivity and subjectivation that is autonomous, self-referential and self-reinforcing, then this is a cause for panic on the part of the forces of social order, as was amply demonstrated in Bologna in 1977.

Free Language Translator is a useful translating utility powered by Google Translate which enables you to translate texts between more than 40 different languages - just as many as the Google service supports. People who don't know foreign languages are bound to use free translation services on the Internet, which basically provide draft translations, or have to refer to the professional French translator If you speak the French language , you will be able to easily translate French , communicate with people while traveling in the French speaking countries, help your kids doing French translation for the homework, and use the French language in your job. I will show in this article that a complete reliance on translation is often not needed and detrimental to the student when learning English. Old English, sometimes known as Anglo Saxon, is a precursor of the Modern English language. I'm also an English-Spanish translator and interpreter and earned my national medical interpreter certification through NBCMI in July 2015. In this case, you are already well on your way to becoming a Japanese translator. All our translations into Spanish are always carried out by 100% native Spanish translators, working in the mother tongue, and who are completely fluent in the source languages, i.e. English, French, German, Italian or Portuguese.

It's a fast-paced Italian world, and sometimes all you need is a quick English translation to get you up to speed. I know that for studying Ancient Near Eastern studies, eventually you would have to have a good command of French and German because a lot of the scholarly material is written in those languages. It is as funny as Mark Twain's translation and retranslation of his Jumping Frog, from English to French and back to English. Today, thousands of people from western countries such as USA, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and from most of European countries have already some Japanese Kanji symbols tattooed into their skin. As the mother tongue of 480 million people, Spanish is one of the world's most widely-spoken native languages. I have heard foreign-language speaking people talk about thinking in their native language before they translate. Veritas Language Solutions is going insolvent and I doubt any of the translators will receive money once higher ranking creditors have been paid. What I'm saying is, instead of trying to figure out which existing translation is most accurate, one can learn the languages, and of course the history, and do their own translation. Another thing, translating English to Arabic may have "corny" results i.e. the sentence may sound poetic with a deep meaning in English but very silly & childish in Arabic.

Zanos died of ovarian cancer just a couple of days of her 60th birthday. Our translation team has many experienced document translators who specialize in translating different types of documents including employee handbooks, contracts, leases, books, birth and death certificates, marriage certificates, divorce decrees, diplomas, transcripts, and any other Spanish document you may need translated. Interpreters and translators must have knowledge of medical terminology and of common medical terms in both languages. This is why, educators believe our kids understand computers and their programming languages better than the people who designed them. Below is an "opportunity" I received a couple of months ago from Wolfestone Translation (UK), click here which is encouraging translators to "post-edit" machine translations for GBP 0.015 per word. The democratic African National Congress (ANC) government was elected in 1994, after a half century of the nationalist government's racist policies under apartheid (the Afrikaans word for separateness”), which included political, legal, social and economic discrimination against black people. A virtual keyboard is offered for Russian, Ukrainian, English, German and French languages. So that, if Botha holler what he is purported to have been by the Sunday times article, it holds a whole stack of truths in it. If one understand Afrikaner history, the themes he hit on have been enforced and promoted or talked about by the Afrikaner people.

His argument, in a nutshell, is that technology forms a mass of people, and conditions their essential humanity by restricting their freedom and displacing their responsibility. Anthony is a French translator who is also fluent in Arabic. Start applying it to your everyday life like change your all devices language setting from English to Spanish, start watching Spanish TV shows and serials, start reading or listening news in Spanish language, start learning about your favorite topic or subject in Spanish it will be fun to learn your favorite subject in Spanish language and it will your added advantage to know your favorite topic in two languages. For exceptional Spanish translation services, look no further than TransPerfect Blue Universe prevodilacka agenicja Translations. Let us say this is not true, it is mentioned in the bible that "the book is given to him who is not learned saying read this, and he says i am not learned." Not in those exact words but in the same meaning, mohamed is the only prophet in history to not be learned after the prophecy was revealed, and anyone who reads the story of prophet muhammad pbuh will know that this is him who is prophesized. I fell in love with them all over again and its all because of you translators. When we received the copy, there was no context at all, just the slogan and this sentence: Is it possible to have a few words translated into Spanish by Monday?,” followed by a request that we also translate the word small.

To support my argument, I will present several examples of the current media environments and personal experience, particularly in relation to music and music industries since music is one of the important mass cultural forms, representing current trends of peoples' mind and thinking. Without his work in the 1950s and '60s, there would be no field of study that sought to explain how the nuances and great sweeps of human history are made possible by media of communication—how media determine the thoughts and actions of people and society, in a soft” way. We know about it because we were at least, up to the coming of the Social Networks, reading books, listen to all types of different genre and good music and that has kept us as a "Sane Society' in this day and age. Then, tickled by curiosity, he read it and at the same time compared it with the previous translations. So long as Man Mind has existed, from the crude forms of mass mobilization to contemporary Meida technological mind control, it has always been the desire and aim of those who are rich, and have time to fine-tune and fine-chissel their distorted and concocted strategy of mass control to set and determine the final outcome, social arrangements and reality. John Carl Warnecke, 91, American architect (John F. Kennedy Eternal Flame), died of complications of pancreatic cancer.

[dcpwebdesigners-blog]

In this video tutorial, I will show you How to highlight the mouse cursor in Windows 10. I will show you how to set up free software which will highlight the mouse for video training tutorials.

Subscribe to access 600+ video tutorials: https://www.youtube.com/dcpwebdesigners

Download Auto Hot Key: https://www.autohotkey.com/ Download .ahk file: https://sites.google.com/site/boisvertlab/computer-stuff/online-teaching

Here are the key concepts you will learn in this video tutorial:

0:00 Introduction 0:26 Download Auto Hot Key software 0:58 Download .akh file / highlight mouse pointer software 1:20 Double left-click to launch .ahk file / highlight mouse pointer software 2:26 Edit tool bar settings to change mouse pointer highlight colour and size

*********************************************************************************************

Need an awesome website for your business? - Simply contact DCP Web Designers for a free quote today - https://www.dcpweb.co.uk

*********************************************************************************************

Contact me on:

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/dcpwebdesigners/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/dcpwebdesigners/ Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/dcpwebdesigners/ LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/dcpwebdesigners/

Free tutorials, infographics, articles: https://www.dcpweb.co.uk/blog

#dcpweb #MouseCursor #Tutorial

The main keyword for this video tutorial:

mouse cursor highlight for videos, highlight mouse cursor for videos, highlight mouse cursor in windows 10, how to highlight mouse pointer windows 10, mouse pointer highlight windows 10, windows 10 mouse pointer highlight, how to highlight mouse pointer, get yellow circle around the mouse, highlight mouse cursor, highlight mouse pointer, how to enable circle mouse pointer, yellow circle around mouse pointer, highlights mouse pointer, circle around mouse pointer, DCP Web Designers, mouse, pointer, highlight, cursor, point, highlight mouse cursor, highlight mouse pointer, tutorial, demo, obs, screen record, recoder, click, cursors, windows 10, highlighter, halo, circle, color, clicks, settings, focus mode, focus, picture, cur, design, designer, open broadcaster software, software, windows, microsoft, windows 7, windows 8, cursor icon, icon, script, video conferencing, download, install, ahk, autohotkey, auto hot key, task bar, tray, features, feature, how to, guide, help

[kawaiiwhisperschaos]

Terrago Tool Bar For Mac

Downloading TerraGo Toolbar Free Thank you for using our software portal. To download the product you want for free, you should use the link provided below and proceed to the developer's website, as this is the only legal source to get TerraGo Toolbar. Publisher for Raster is the only application on the market which can transform geospatial imagery into interactive GeoPDF applications, with 1:100 compression, while maintaining quality, that can be consumed, analyzed and marked up with free software clients and mobile apps. TerraGo develops software applications and mobile apps that make it easy for our customers to manage assets, collect data, manage IoT devices, connect platforms and work together anywhere, any time.

On this page

Description

The free TerraGo Toolbar™ is a powerful geospatial application that helps you unleash the power of your geospatial assets to the edge of your enterprise by making it easy for everyone, including non-GIS savvy users, to access and interact with complex maps and images. You can do things like measure distances between objects in the map, add your own comments to specific places on the map, view the files in conjunction with Google Maps,... Read more

Rate:

Release Date:07/06/2011

License:Freeware

Category:Multimedia & Graphic Design

Developer:TerraGo Technologies

Downloads:98

Size:36.9 Mb

Price: Free

To free download a trial version of TerraGo Toolbar, click here To visit developer homepage of TerraGo Toolbar, click here

Advertisement

System Requirements

TerraGo Toolbar requires Windows.

TerraGo Toolbar v.5.7.0070 Copyright

Shareware Junction periodically updates pricing and software information of TerraGo Toolbar v.5.7.0070 full version from the publisher using pad file and submit from users. Software piracy is theft, Using crack, password, serial numbers, registration codes, key generators, cd key, hacks is illegal and prevent future development of TerraGo Toolbar v.5.7.0070 Edition. Download links are directly from our publisher sites. Links TerraGo Toolbar v.5.7.0070 from Bittorrent, mediafire.com, uploadfiles.com, hotfiles.com rapidshare.com, megaupload.com, netload.in, storage.to, depositfiles.com and other files hosting are not allowed. The download file is obtained directly from the publisher, not from any Peer to Peer file sharing applications such as Shareaza, Limewire, Kazaa, Imesh, eDonkey, eMule, Ares, BearShare, Overnet, Morpheus, BitTorrent Azureus and WinMX.

Review This Software

More TerraGo Toolbar Software

Advertisement

TerraGo Toolbar v.5.7.0070

The free TerraGo Toolbar™ is a powerful geospatial application that helps you unleash the power of your geospatial assets to the edge of your enterprise by making it easy for everyone, including non-GIS savvy users, to access and interact with comp

Category: Multimedia & Graphic Design

Developer: TerraGo Technologies - Download - Free

Crawler Toolbar

Enhance your Internet experience and your computer's desktop environment with the easy-to-use, feature-packed, free Crawler Toolbar. Listen to Internet radio streams and record your favorite radio shows or songs with a single click using cool

Category: Misc. Utilities

Developer: CRAWLER, LLC. - Download - Free

Toolbar Icon Set

Toolbar Icon Set is a collection of wonderfully-crafted ready-made icons for use in commercial and personal products, including software, websites, blogs and presentations. The icons have a bright color palette, smooth and well-rounded edges. They are

Yahoo Toolbar For Mac

Category: Cursor & Icon Libraries

Developer: Aha-Soft - Download - Price: $74.00

toolbar - icons - icon - collection - set

Fire Toolbar Icons

Fire Toolbar Icons is a fine-looking set of icons that has a bright color palette with prevailing red, yellow and flame colors. These icons are the result of work of professionals with lambent minds and are truly wonderfully-crafted. The stock icons shine

Category: Cursor & Icon Libraries

Developer: Aha-Soft - Download - Price: $99.00

fire - toolbar - xp icon - windows icon - icon

Artistic Toolbar Icons v.2015.1

Artistic Toolbar Icons is a new collection of stock icons with perfect graphics for multi-purpose use, representing all basic operations required for surfing the Internet or using various applications. The icons come in all popular sizes.

Category: Cursor & Icon Libraries

Developer: Aha-Soft - Download - Buy: $64.00

icons - artistic - artistic toolbar - design - web design

National Numbers Number Plates Toolbar

The National Numbers Number Plate toolbar is a free tool that gives you quick, easy access to number plate information direct from your desktop. The toolbar helps you search for registration plates, value personalised number plates, and browse for private

Category: Utilities

Developer: National Numbers - Download - Free

toolbar - national numbers - browser plug in - firefox - internet explorer

ICS Free Financial Toolbar

The ICS Free Financial Toolbar puts financial search, stock quotes, charts, SEC filings, stock news, and financial audio commentary at your fingertips! It installs in Microsoft Internet Explorer in seconds and includes a free popup blocker, Google and

Category: Miscellaneous

Developer: Ice Cold Stocks - Download - Free

free - financial - toolbar

Perfect Toolbar Icons v.2012.2

Enhance your new product or Web site with readily-available, professionally-designed icons. Design usable, slick and attractive user interfaces. Your software products and Web sites will look modern and attractive with Perfect Toolbar Icons.

Category: Cursor & Icon Libraries

Developer: Aha-Soft - Download - Buy: $99.95

design - cut - copy - paste - undo

Business Toolbar Icons v.2009.3

Enhance your accounting or business-oriented software with readily available professional Business Toolbar Icons. Over two hundred of professionally designed and carefully crafted icons representing various financial objects and symbols are included.

Category: Cursor & Icon Libraries

Developer: Aha-Soft - Download - Buy: $99.95

business - icons - money - finance - symbol

FB Toolbar, The Toolbar for Facebook

FB Toolbar is the must-have Facebook application to stay connected to your Facebook friends. Get instant access to Facebook essential bookmarks anytime, anywhere while surfing the Web with your browser. FB Toolbar installation is free and takes only

Category: Utilities

Developer: Visicom Media - Download - Free

mystart social toolbar - facebook - face book - facebook home - facebook login

Database Toolbar Icons v.2013.2

Database applications don't have to be boring! Database Toolbar Icons is a set of over two hundred royalty-free stock images representing various database concepts, symbols and actions. Use them to make your toolbar stylish and easy to use.

Category: Cursor & Icon Libraries

Developer: Aha-Soft - Download - Buy: $129.95

icon - ico - database - toolbar - stock icons

Software Toolbar Icons v.2011.1

Software Toolbar Icons is a set of top-notch handmade icons created by professional artists for developers and webmasters. This icon set covers a wide range of software-related topics and is sold for a price anyone can afford, so don't' miss it!

Category: Cursor & Icon Libraries

Developer: Aha-Soft - Download - Buy: $99.95

Terrago Toolbar For Mac Windows 7

toolbar icons - icon set - development icon - application icon - windows icons

US Topo Maps can be downloaded free of charge from several USGS interfaces (including the USGS Store “Map Locator”). The maps are published in Portable Document Format (PDF) with geospatial extensions (GeoPDF®). They can be viewed and printed with Adobe Reader or comparable PDF viewing software. The geospatial extensions provide limited GIS functionality, such as displaying ground coordinates and measuring distances and areas. For more information see http://nationalmap.gov/ustopo/ and http://store.usgs.gov/ The optional TerraGo Toolbar® is a free plug-in for Adobe® Reader® that enables Adobe Reader for Windows users to access, update and share GeoPDF® maps imagery including simple measuring distances and areas. For more information see https://www.terragotech.com/document...-Datasheet.pdf Viewing GeoPDF Files To view the US Topo GeoPDF files, a recent version of the FREE Adobe Reader for Windows or Apple OS is required. The latest version can be downloaded at https://www.adobe.com/support/downlo...jsp?ftpID=5867. Instructions 1) Go to https://store.usgs.gov/map-locator/ 2) Search using the name of a USGS quad, if known, or the name of a town in the general area. Example: Townsend, TN. 3) Click 'View Products' 4) Scroll down the list of maps to the right. Select the latest version (for example 2106) USGS US Topo 7.5 - minute map for KINZEL SPRINGS (for example). 5) Click on the 'View PDF' button, which will automatically begin the download of a .ZIP file. 6) Move the .ZIP file to a documents folder named something like 'My GeoPDFs' and then extract (unzip) the PDF. 7) Open the PDF with Adobe Reader and observe the latitude/longitude coordinates that appear at the bottom and change as the mouse is moved. Open the 'Map Collar', 'Map Frame' and 'Images' folders in the left margin to select/deselect the various layers desired. Optional TerraGo Toolbar for Windows The Windows machine on which you plan to install the TerraGo Toolbar software must include the FREE Adobe Reader Versionb 10 or above and the hardware and other software requirements specified in TerraGo Toolbar document http://webstore.terragotech.com/soft...ease_notes.pdf The FREE TerraGo Toolbar download is at http://www.terragotech.com/products/terrago-toolbar A TerraGo Toolbar installation video is at http://info.terragotech.com/Video/Te...r-Installation

[michaelandy101-blog]

13 Great Landing Page Examples You'll Want to Copy in 2020

New Post has been published on http://tiptopreview.com/13-great-landing-page-examples-youll-want-to-copy-in-2020/

13 Great Landing Page Examples You'll Want to Copy in 2020

While many landing pages look different and use a variety of interesting strategies to pull in audiences, they all serve one major purpose. These pages get website visitors to convert to the next stage in the buyer’s journey.

What is the purpose of a landing page?

A landing page offers a prospective customer a resource, such as an ebook or webinar signup, in exchange for their basic contact information. The goal of these pages is to generate leads while you pull prospects further into the customer funnel.

Rather than serving as a basic advertisement that shows a customer a product, a landing page aims to engage and delight a customer by offering them something that relates to the product or the company’s industry. When they fill out the form and receive a reward of interesting content, they might be even more likely to trust your brand and become a customer.

Quick tip: Want an easy way to add a form to your landing page? HubSpot’s free form builder tool can help you fill your CRM with leads from your website.

Let’s talk through an example of when a landing page can be especially effective. If a business wants to sell an AI product that helps salespeople, they might create a landing page that offers audiences a free video on how to use AI in the sales industry. Interested audiences might offer their contact information in exchange for the valuable information. If they enjoy the video they’ve received, they might be more likely to respond to or purchase a product from a company rep who calls them.

In another scenario, a publishing company that targets an audience of chief executives might create a landing page that invites audiences to sign up for a webinar hosted by an executive at a major company.

After giving their email address on the signup form presented on the landing page, the leads get an email with the webinar dates and log in information, as well as instructions on how to sign up for the publication’s newsletter or subscription. If the user is pleased by the webinar, they might sign up for the newsletter or a subscription to keep up with similar publication content.

Although their purpose is simple enough in theory, actually designing a successful landing page requires some detailed planning and creative testing.

Even after launching your landing page, you’ll want to pay attention to conversion rates to see how well it’s doing.

What is a good landing page conversion rate?

According to WordStream, the average landing page conversion rate is 2.35% across industries, with the top 25th percentile of landing pages hitting 5.31% or higher.

To determine your conversion rate, simply divide the number of conversions a webpage generates by the number of people who visited that page.

If your conversion rate isn’t close to the average just yet, don’t worry. Nailing those percentages can be a bit challenging at first, especially is you have a lot of regular page visitors. Luckily, there are a number of simple conversion rate optimization strategies that can help you boost your current rate quickly.

Regardless of what your business is selling or the conversion action you hope to instigate, it’s helpful to get inspired by seeing what other great landing pages look like. And because there’s no one “right” way of designing a landing page, you’ll want to check out examples from lots of different industries for different stages of the buying process.

Want to get inspired? Check out the great landing page examples below.

We don’t have access to the analytics for each of these landing pages, so I can’t tell you specifically how well they convert visitors, contacts, leads, and customers. But many of them do follow best practices while also implementing a few new experiments that could give you ideas for your own landing pages.

13 Great Examples of Landing Page Design

1. Lyft

We love that on Lyft’s landing page, they zero in on their drivers’ main motivation: earning money easily.

We also love that, in addition to the “Apply Now” form, drivers can type their city and the number of hours they might drive for Lyft in a week to calculate how much they’d make. When visitors fill out that information and press “Calculate,” they aren’t taken to a new page. Instead, they see a dollar amount followed by a new call-to-action button to “Apply Now” (which, once clicked, takes drivers up to the form).

By offering these two conversion paths, they’re able to address two different types of people in the conversion path: those who are ready to make the decision now and those who need a little more information before they convert.

2. The Professional Wingman

Okay, so the whole idea of having a professional wingman to help you find dates and a meaningful relationship is already pretty cool. But when you’re faced with the prospect of hiring one, it also raises questions. How does it work? How much does it cost? Is this really going to help me?

That’s why we love this landing page for Thomas Edwards, the original Professional Wingman himself, which outlines exactly what a complimentary coaching session is going to achieve. Plus, it’s clear that it’s complimentary, thanks to the boldly-colored call-to-action button above the fold.

Once you click that button, you aren’t taken to a new page. Instead, an interstitial form appears right there. And while it does request a lot of information — some of it a bit personal — it also sends the message that The Professional Wingman is going to take this seriously, but only if you do, too.

3. Muck Rack

This landing page design has it all. It’s visually appealing and interactive, offers scannable yet descriptive headers about Muck Rack’s services, and uses quotes from industry professionals as social proof. Plus, the page is intuitive and easy to navigate.

The cool part about this landing page is that it can appeal to both of Muck Rack’s audiences. The top of the page is split into two, featuring their two different services side by side. Once a visitor moves his or her mouse over either of the “find journalists” or the “build free portfolio” CTAs, a very simple form appears — and that’s important, so as not to distract the user from the task at hand.

4. Cigital

There are a few things that make this Cigital landing page work. It has simple and relevant imagery. The headline is straightforward and the description of the ebook informs viewers of the specific value they will get by downloading it. There is only one call-to-action — “READ THE EBOOK” — that stands out on the page thanks to a bright yellow CTA button.

The only thing we’d change about this landing page is that we’d remove the navigation bar at the top. They tend to distract visitors and lead them away from the intended action. Not only is this a landing page design best practice, but we’ve also conducted A/B tests that’ve shown removing navigation links from landing pages increases conversion rates.

5. Khan Academy

The hard part about using your homepage as a landing page is that you have to cater to several different types of audiences. But Khan Academy’s homepage does that very well. This page is clearly designed for three different types of visitors: those who want to learn something, those who want to teach, and parents who are interested in using Khan Academy for their kids. Plus, how motivational is the emblazoned “You can learn anything” text at the top?

The remainder of the page is designed for viewers who are not completely familiar with Khan Academy. It colorfully and largely spells out the key benefits of using the learning platform — all of which are easy to scan and understand. There’s also a recurring CTA: “Start learning now.” As soon as viewers feel they have enough information, they can click the CTA to get taken back up to the form at the top of the page without having to scroll.

6. Club W

A little bit of delightful copy can go a long way on your landing page. We love the playful little aside — “(Hint: It’s Wine)” — that Club W included below the header of their corporate gifting landing page. It humanizes the brand and makes them likable, which could have a positive impact on their conversion rate.

The images below that header make a nice use of negative space, showing the user exactly what his or her gift recipient might actually receive, should they choose to gift with Club W. And, of course, there’s that bold call to action — “Email Us”.

The one thing we’d change? The CTA prompts the users email software to open, which drives traffic away from the site and the browser entirely. A form might be more effective here — not only would Club W be able to dictate what information it wants to capture, but also, it would keep the user on-site.

7. Codecademy

I like this page because it’s simple in both copy and design. The image above the fold is a computer screen displaying an HTML bracket with a blinking cursor — a whimsical, clear visual to accompany the form on the right.

The form itself is simple and only requires an email address, username, password, and a validation that you’re not a robot to create an account. Or, you can just use your Facebook or Google Plus login, shortening the conversion path even further.

For visitors who need more information before creating an account, the landing page also offers a video below the fold that explains their concept and value by way of a real-life success story. Again, this helps make the potentially intimidating world of coding more approachable for beginners.

Those who need even more convincing can continue scrolling for additional testimonials and other forms of social proof.

8. Poached

I don’t think we’ve ever lived in a time when, culturally, we’ve been so food-obsessed. Poached has turned that into a B2B model with a platform to connect proprietors and culinary talent.

When you visit the homepage, there’s no mystery about what you’re there to do — the giant “Post a job” and “Choose a city” calls to action help with that. And once you click on one of them, you’re taken to a no-frills form to become a member or log in, or a list of jobs in each city. It’s colorful and comprehensive — and, it makes us hungry.

9. Breather

Here’s another example of clever, delightful design on a landing page. As soon as you visit Breather.com, there’s an instant call to action: indicate where you want to find a space. Plus, it uses location services to figure out where you are, providing instant options nearby.

We love how Breather used simple, to-the-point copy to let the visitor know what the company does, followed immediately by the CTA to select a city. And if you need to scroll down for more information, you can see that Breather played with the microcopy with personality (“no commitment, ever”), reminding us there are real humans behind the design. That brings us a little closer to the brand. The negative space and soothing color scheme are also aligned with the product — essentially, room to breathe.

10. Startup Institute

Visitors to your website won’t hand over their personal information without knowing what they’re going to get in return. On its landing page, Startup Institute makes abundantly clear what will happen after you apply by listing a Q&A right beside the form. It might prompt some people to say, “They read my mind!”

To avoid hesitancy to fill out a form, use your landing page to set expectations upfront. That clears the air, and can also weed out the people who don’t take your content, product or service seriously.

11. Edupath

Who is your landing page’s target audience? While most of Edupath’s website content is directed toward students, there are sections dedicated to advising parents on helping their teenagers through college applications and SAT preparation. The landing page below is in one of these sections.

When parents fill out their teenager’s name, email address, and mobile number, a link to download the Edupath app is sent directly to them. The folks at Edupath know students are likely to do something if their parents ask them to — especially if it means they don’t have to surrender their phones.

Plus, it’s an easy, one-click process. This whole conversion path is a clever and helpful way to get the apps on more students’ phones by way of their parents.

12. Taster’s Club

If there’s anything we enjoy more than a fine whiskey, it’s a whiskey club homepage that makes it easy to either join or learn more about membership. Case in point: Taster’s Club, which immediately serves up those very two CTAs on its landing page — which also happens to be its homepage.

For those to wish to learn more, clicking that CTA will immediately scroll the user down to colorful, image-rich details on what a Taster’s Club membership includes. Keep scrolling, and you get user testimonials.

But clicking the “Join Now” button is where the real fun begins. After doing that, you get to pick your poison — that is, the type of whiskey you like the most — and view the membership or gifting options available for it. Once you make your selections, you’re taken to an easy-to-navigate checkout page to enter your payment information. Good design and ease of use? We’ll drink to that.

13. Microsoft IT Showcase

The landing page below has been used to market and generate leads for one episode of Microsoft’s IT Showcase webinar series.

This simple and straightforward design does a great job of presenting why the webinar being offered is important to IT professionals. Along with a quick blurb describing what the webinar will discuss, the page also includes links to similar webinars, details on the speakers, and links to Microsoft resources that touch on the topics that will be discussed.

An IT company which has access to thought leaders or experts in their industry could similarly use this webinar landing page strategy to generate both leads and prospective customer trust. Audiences who feel informed after reading the landing page might sign up expecting the webinar to be insightful.

If the webinar seems informative and credible, these audiences will think that the IT company has an expertise in the product and might have quality product offerings. This will make them more willing to talk to a representative to learn more or purchase a product.

Ready to build your landing page?

If these examples have inspired you, but you’re not a design expert, we’ve also created a great list of free, professionally designed landing page templates.

If you’re looking for more landing page design examples, check out some of our favorite HubSpot landing page examples. You can also check out this quick guide to landing page design.

Originally published Nov 13, 2020 9:47:00 AM, updated November 13 2020

Topics:

Landing Page Design

Don’t forget to share this post!

Source link

[tgon]

The Nightmare Room #8, Shadow Girl | Review

Title: The Nightmare Room #8 – Shadow Girl

Author: R.L. Stine

Cover Artist: Tristan Elwell

INTRODUCTION

Today's book is all about heroes.

Fictitious ones. Not to be confused with real ones like doctors or nurses.

At least that means you won't have to read a review of Gray's Anatomy. Although, by the end of things, you may wish you'd done that instead. This story retroactively makes me regret being nice to the last book.

STORY REVIEW

Protagonist Selena Miles has been sent away for a month to live with her aunt, uncle, and detestable cousin, Jada. The following story takes place in Chicago, which is distinct from other Nightmare Room locations in that it has CRIME. The city's characterization is a bit glib, so I'll add in some slick Chicago references to pick up the slack.

One of Jada's friends is mugged, and this makes Selena angrier than Mrs. O'Leary's cow. Jada pontificates on how cool it would be to become a superhero and how awesome it would be if superheroes were real and also SUPERHERO SUPERHERO SUPERHERO. We can rule out "subtlety" from the list of powers Jada is hiding.

The school colors at Elmwood Middle School are red and blue, but Jada tricks Selena into wearing yellow and green on her first day. The entire school boos Selena, making her feel sad, almost as sad as the lyrics to "Casimir Pulaski Day." Things only get worse when Selena goes back to her aunt and uncle's house. She finds a note from her mother saying that the two will never meet again and that Selena's entire life is a lie. Seems like a perfectly reasonable time to freak, but Selena decides to wait things out because she's still hung up about accidentally dressing like a Green Bay Packer, I guess. Selena takes the alarming note to her aunt. No joke, Aunt Janet explains away the note by saying Selena's mother must have been "moody" when she wrote it. Seems like a helluva mood swing! Selena tries calling her mother about six times throughout the book. It'd make sense in real life, but it's pretty boring to read.

Meanwhile, all throughout this book, Jada has been sneaking out at night, presumably shadow girling around or something. Selena investigates and discovers that Jada has been using a secret room hidden behind a bookshelf. Since she doesn't have parents anymore, Selena is undoubtably preparing for a Narnia-type adventure. Before investigating further, Selena enlists the help of one of Jada's friends, Stan. (I would've expected Jada to be friends with Giant Steps or even Take Five, but it's nice to know she's friends with some hip-hop tracks.) The duo gains access to the secret room by pulling on a lever hidden amongst the books, proving that knowledge really is power. Even the book I'm reading right now is powerful. It can open doors when wedged like a doorstop.

The kids find a cloak. There's also a mask with cat-like eyeholes. Stan guesses that it might be a "burglar costume," severely misunderstanding what a cat burglar is. That night, Selena decides to confront Jada to ask if she's involved in any Eyes Wide Shut situations, but Jada is gone. Kidnapped, evidently. Jada calls Selena and tells our protagonist to don the secret suit and come to the rescue. In the most shocking twist yet, our protagonist takes to the Chicago streets in costume. Using Jada's instructions, Selena actually finds the location. That's pretty good for a child who put on a strange costume "because my cousin said so."

Now, this is where the plot begins to really turn into a supernova: (1) Jada wasn't actually kidnapped. (2) She's wearing her own supersuit. (3) She's the "Red Raven." (4) Aunt Janet has superpowers but is retired. (5) According to the Book of Fates, Selena's destiny is to become a superhero named Shadow Girl. (6) There is a "Book of Fates." (7) The book says Selena's fate is to kill Jada. What a coincidence! Apparently, the book I'm reading is trying to kill me, too. Suddenly, I realize the several chapters about phone calls weren't so bad.

Selena uses her newfound powers to fly away. Good thing Chicago isn't known for being too windy. The book never really explains why Jada is so excited to fight Selena and probably die. At least Selena acknowledges that fighting her cousin to the death might be an unnecessary danger. Meanwhile, Selena notices some danger in town and decides to get involved. Selena's suit gives her super-strength, allowing her to save a boy from a group of bat-wielding goons. It's just Chicago, y'all, where there's a nightly brawl! ...And all that jazz!

Jada (possibly sensing all that jazz) finds and confronts Selena. She accosts Selena for not showing more enthusiasm about their death battle. In fact, Jada feels jealous. Not about the whole "getting to live" thing. Jada is jealous that she doesn't get to be Shadow Girl. The two begin fighting. Selena rips off Jada's amulet, the source of her power, killing Red Raven. A character died?! Man, this is totally di⁠ff—

Oh but the death was just a metaphor.

"Red Raven" may be dead, but ⁠(much like the Sear's Tower) Jada changes her identity. Now, she gets to be Shadow Girl.

You feel cheated. I feel cheated. Selena doesn't feel cheated because she gets to go home! I can appreciate a character whose struggle is trying to escape a lame story. Unfortunately, when she arrives, she finds her mother's supersuit and realizes that her life won't be going back to normal.

THE VERDICT

Shriek Home Chicago probably would've been more palatable.

BEST QUOTE(S)

Violence makes me sick. But I wanted to run over there and punch her face until it was red and blue too!

Ah yes, I believe that's a Gandhi quote.

"It's your costume, Selena," Jada said. "It has always been here, waiting for you."

THIS IS MY SUIT! IT WAS MADE FOR ME! ⁠— Junji Stino.

He picked up the computer mouse. "Now, where do you think you attach this?"

The most complicated piece of computer hardware that Stine can name is the mouse.

I stepped into Mom’s room and hurried over to the bed. [...] "You weren’t supposed to see that!" she cried. "I didn’t know you were coming home. I would have put it in its place." My heart pounding, I picked it up. A red cape. A pair of silky red tights. A sparkly black mask with diamond-shaped eye holes. "Mom? What is it?" I cried.

Mood swing! Mom's a stripper now.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

[whoamisky]

In 1621, colonists invited Massasoit, the chief of the Wampanoags, to a feast after a recent land deal. Massasoit came with ninety of his men. That meal is why we still eat a meal together in November. Celebrate it as a nation. But that one wasn’t a thanksgiving meal. It was a land-deal meal. Two years later there was another, similar meal meant to symbolize eternal friendship. Two hundred Indians dropped dead that night from an unknown poison.

Yellow highlight | Location: 401

Louise Erdrich.                

Yellow highlight | Location: 426

“I’d give away my own heart’s blood for her,” Octavio said. His own heart’s blood. That’s the way I felt about Maxine.                

Yellow highlight | Location: 600

“We don’t have time, Nephew, time has us. It holds us in its mouth like an owl holds a field mouse. We shiver. We struggle for release, and then it pecks out our eyes and intestines for sustenance and we die the death of field mice.”                

Yellow highlight | Location: 631

“There is no there there,” he says in a kind of whisper, with this goofy openmouthed smile Dene wants to punch. Dene wants to tell him he’d looked up the quote in its original context, in her Everybody’s Autobiography, and found that she was talking about how the place where she’d grown up in Oakland had changed so much, that so much development had happened there, that the there of her childhood, the there there, was gone, there was no there there anymore. Dene wants to tell him it’s what happened to Native people, he wants to explain that they’re not the same, that Dene is Native, born and raised in Oakland, from Oakland. Rob probably didn’t look any further into the quote because he’d gotten what he wanted from it. He probably used the quote at dinner parties and made other people like him feel good about taking over neighborhoods they wouldn’t have had the guts to drive through ten years ago.                

Yellow highlight | Location: 638

The quote is important to Dene. This there there. He hadn’t read Gertrude Stein beyond the quote. But for Native people in this country, all over the Americas, it’s been developed over, buried ancestral land, glass and concrete and wire and steel, unreturnable covered memory. There is no there there.                

Yellow highlight | Location: 964

Picatrix is a book of magic and astrology from the twelfth century originally written in Arabic and titled Ghāyat al-Ḥakīm, meaning “The Goal of the Wise.”                

Yellow highlight | Location: 989

There’s no reason to remember when it’s always just right there, like the way everyone used to know phone numbers by heart and now can’t even remember their own. Remembering itself is becoming old-fashioned.                

Yellow highlight | Location: 1,010

Does what we try most to avoid come after us because we paid too much attention to it with our worry?                

Yellow highlight | Location: 1,122

A Tribe Called Red.                

Yellow highlight | Location: 1,865

We are full-blood, half-breed, quadroon, eighths, sixteenths, thirty-seconds. Undoable math. Insignificant remainders.                

Yellow highlight | Location: 1,870

Native blood quantum was introduced in 1705 at the Virginia Colony. If you were at least half Native, you didn’t have the same rights as white people.                

Yellow highlight | Location: 1,874

The wound that was made when white people came and took all that they took has never healed. An unattended wound gets infected. Becomes a new kind of wound like the history of what actually happened became a new kind history. All these stories that we haven’t been telling all this time, that we haven’t been listening to, are just part of what we need to heal.                

Yellow highlight | Location: 1,902

We are Little Cloud, Littleman, Loneman, Bull Coming, Madbull, Bad Heart Bull, Jumping Bull, Bird, Birdshead, Kingbird, Magpie, Eagle, Turtle, Crow, Beaver, Youngblood, Tallman, Eastman, Hoffman, Flying Out, Has No Horse, Broken Leg, Fingernail, Left Hand, Elk                

Yellow highlight | Location: 1,904

Shoulder, White Eagle, Black Horse, Two Rivers, Goldtooth, Goodblanket, Goodbear, Bear Shield, Yellow Man, Blindman, Roanhorse, Bellymule, Ballard, Begay, Yazzie. We are Dixon, Livingston, Tsosie, Nelson, Oxendene, Harjo, Armstrong, Mills, Tallchief, Banks, Rogers, Bitsilly, Bellecourt, Means, Good Feather, Bad Feather, Little Feather, Red Feather.                

Yellow highlight | Location: 2,138

A few weeks back she found a video of Orvil powwow dancing in his room. Opal regularly checks their phones while they sleep. She looks at what pictures and videos they take, their text messages, and their browser histories. None of them have shown signs of especially worrisome depravity yet. But it’s only a matter of time. Opal believes there is a dark curiosity alive in each of us. She believes we all do precisely what we think we can get away with. The way Opal sees it, privacy is for adults. You                

Yellow highlight | Location: 3,002

He knows what the guy said is true. To cry is to waste the feeling. He needs to dance with it. Crying is for when there’s nothing else left to do.                

Yellow highlight | Location: 3,120

“Okay, so Phil lives in a nice apartment in downtown Oakland he got grandfathered into, it’s a big place with fixed rent. Phil works at Whole Foods. One day a white guy he works with, I’ll call him John, he asks Phil if he wants to hang out after work. They hang out, go to a bar, have a good time, then                

Yellow highlight | Location: 3,122

John ends up spending the night at Phil’s. The next day when Phil comes home from work, John’s still there, only he has a couple of friends over. They brought a bunch of their stuff too. Phil asks John what’s going on and John tells Phil he figured since there’s so much extra room that Phil wasn’t using, that it would be okay. Phil doesn’t like it, but he’s not one for confrontation so he lets it go. Over the next few weeks, and then months, the house fills up with squatters, hipsters, corporate tech nerds, and every kind of young white person imaginable. They’re either living in Phil’s apartment or just sort of hanging out indefinitely. Phil doesn’t understand how he let it get so out of control. Then just when he gets up the nerve to say something, to kick everyone                

Yellow highlight | Location: 3,128

out, he gets really sick. Someone had stolen his blanket, and when he asked John about it, John gave him a new blanket. Phil believes that blanket made him sick. He’s in bed for a week. By the time he comes out, things have changed. Progressed, you might say. Some of the rooms have been turned into offices. John’s running some kind of start-up out of Phil’s apartment. Phil tells John he has to go, everyone has to leave, and that Phil had never agreed to any of this. That’s when John provides some paperwork. Phil had signed something, apparently. Maybe in a fever dream. But John won’t show him the papers. Trust me, bro, John says. You don’t wanna go there. Oh and by the way, you know that spot under the stairs, John says. Spot? Phil says. That room? He means the closet under                

Yellow highlight | Location: 3,133

the stairs. Phil knows what’s coming next. Let me guess, you’re moving me to that spot under the stairs, that’s my new room, Phil says. You guessed it, John says. This is my apartment, my grandfather lived here, he passed it on to me to take care of, Phil says. It’s for my family, if anyone needs a place to stay, that’s what it’s supposed to be here for. And here John produces a gun. He points it at Phil’s face, then proceeds to walk Phil to the closet under the stairs. Told you, bro, John says. Told me what? Phil says. You should have just joined the company. We could have used someone like you, John says. You never asked me anything, you just came to my apartment and stayed here, then took over, Phil says. Whatever, bro, my record keepers have it going down differently, John                

Yellow highlight | Location: 3,138

says, and nods with his head at a couple of guys on a couch in the downstairs living room furiously typing on their Apple computers what Phil assumes is a different version of the events happening just then. Suddenly feeling very tired, and hungry, Phil retreats to his under-the-stairs closet-room. That’s it, that’s what I have so far.”

[frozs]

the fic where kakuzu is a commbank manager and hidan is like on centrelink

Unedited and don’t care, so heres 3, 900 words about Hidan and Kakuzu being serial killers and dumping bodies in the Australian outback 

@tozettewrites @ thriceandonce @ rhyperographer 

Warning: I made this as Australian as possible and I may have to post translations later 

“What do you want this time? Another loan?”

“No,” said Hidan. “I may have… accidentally killed someone.”

“Accidentally,” Kakuzu deadpanned, looking up from his CommBank tablet that all the employees of Commonwealth Bank seem to carry around with them.

“I need to borrow your ute.” 

Kakuzu growled and Hidan stepped right in front of him.

“Please help me, Kakuzu.” Hidan was wearing a bintang singlet, as if he’d been to Bali, which he hadn’t, and Target shorts. The Australia-Day thongs he was wearing must have purchased for a dollar from Cheap as Chips after the 26th of January. He looked very different to Kakuzu in his yellow tie and black and white suit.

“I’m at work.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Hidan looked around and looked at the unhappy queue behind him. They didn’t seem to give any facial expressions away at Hidan casually announcing that he had killed someone. “Come on, buddy. I will personally, in fact, go with you to like, Ladbrokes and you can use my money for betting, or I’ll buy you Oz Lotto tickets for your birthday-”

“You don’t have any money.”

“I know, that’s why - that's why I'm here. I need petrol money, and your ute. And maybe a big fat fucking loan.”

Kakuzu sighed and pointed at little office on the opposite side of the teller que. “Get in.”

“Commonwealth Bank employees can help anyone. So you gotta help me! But what’s the quote? Say the quote. Y’know, the one from the advert.” Hidan badgered on, opening the door that had Kakuzu - Bank Manager written on a nice little clean plaque.

“...CommBank can.” said Kakuzu grudgingly. Hidan sat down on the waterproof blue chairs that seem to appear in every bank. Kakuzu sat on the opposite side of the desk purchased from Ikea and probably assembled by him, and Hidan stared at the mouse Kakuzu was using which was one of those weird-ass ones that was just a rotating ball, clicking away every so often. Hidan then took the platypus that was for kids to put their pocket money in and shook it, then looked disappointed as he couldn’t hear any coins that he could scab.

Kakuzu made himself busy in case the IT people would snoop into his history, and then went into Hidan’s bank account, which he knew the numbers off by heart and the pin and the three security questions (Which all seem to have the answer ‘fuck off’). His bank balance was negative $135.68, and looking at the transactions it seemed Hidan had fucked off to Mitre 10 yesterday probably to buy a hammer to smash this new person’s head in.

“Who did you kill this time?”

“A dickhead pedo. Can you find out if he has any savings in his bank account? I’m kinda sick of eating mi goreng and those cheese and bacon buns from Coles.” Hidan looked at the computer expectedly. He then started this long-ass explanation about this man, who got arrested the other day for doing ‘pedo things’ and he wasn’t on the ‘pedo register’. The reason for this was because Deidara told him about it.

“So where’s the body?” Kakuzu grunted.

Hidan grinned. “In the bin.”

“Which bin?”

“The blue lidded one because it’s the rubbish one, and he’s trash.”

“How MANY times do I have to tell you to not put dead bodies in council bins!?”

Hidan rolled his eyes and stared at the ceiling. “Like… twelve times? Like I fucking care. Anyway, so I was at Centrelink with Deidara yesterday because he had to claim some Medicare stuff back and while we were waiting he was on Facebook and the Popo updated their Facebook status and it said that the guy, I forget his name but he’s still a pedo, lived on the street behind us, but they let him go because he was a fucking nutcase. He still lives there and apparently he’s put an electric fence up so the Today Tonight reporters can’t get in. Then someone mentioned in the comments what his car rego was on it because they caught him after he was on the run. What a cunt.”

“Yep.”

“So yeah, after going to Centrelink I walked home, fed your dog for you-”

“I hope you didn’t feed him this man you are going on about.”

“No.” There was a pause. “Just kibble.”

“Good.” Kakuzu resumed typing.

“And went to Mitre 10, brought a hammer and some tarp. So last night I got a bucket of water, and broke into his house.”

“Why did you have a bucket of water?”

Hidan frowned. “I wasn’t going to kill him inside.”

“Right… keep going.” Kakuzu was now pressing denied on a housing application loan on Hidan’s account, so it seemed like Hidan had come in to ask Kakuzu about getting a mortgage.

“Anywaaaaaaaaaaaay, Pedo-man ran out the house and he tried to jump up the fence, but it’s electric right? So as soon as he got shocked I threw the entire bucket with water in it, and he… yeah, died. Dropped to the floor smoking and he shat himself.”

“So you put the body in his blue bin.”

“Well you can’t reuse him so I couldn't put it in the red bin. So I took the bin home, gave my prayers to Lord Jashin, washed him in human fat soap for Jashin’s blessings and now he’s in your backyard. I think I saw you drive off to work when I turned up with the bin. So Pedo-man is clean, but he’s also a bit grotty from being dead.” Hidan made a flap with his hand, as if the body was with him right now and was stinking out the room.

Kakuzu looked up with his mouth open. “Why is the man in my backyard?”

Hidan shrugged. “I thought if I borrow your ute, then we don’t have to take it to mine and then take it to the cemetery. So can I borrow your ute? When’s your next day off?”

“...Tomorrow.”

Hidan clapped his hands. “We’ll go then.”

Kakuzu rolled his eyes. “Are you done?”

“Yes,” said Hidan. He then got up, and said loudly enough so the queue outside could hear him, “Thank you very much, Mr Kakuzu! I’m sure my wife will be very happy with your decision.”

“You don’t have a wife.” Kakuzu pressed a thumb and forefinger to his head in exasperation. “Get out.”

“Whoops, I’m late for a job interview.” Hidan checked his fitbit by tapping it several times to display the time. (It was actually Kakuzu’s old one). Kakuzu moved him out the office. He noticed the queue hadn’t moved, but this was normal for lunchtime.

“You? Job interview?” Kakuzu didn’t believe it at all. Hidan wasn’t a liar, but he was a Newstart Piece of Shit, which Kakuzu hating dealing with Centrelink dole bludgers like him who refused to be employed.

“Yeah. The job agency told me to apply for something. So I’ve applied to stand in the mall with the Jehovahs and those stands and smile and give out things.”

“You don’t get paid for that.”

“No, no no no no no you don’t understand,” said Hidan, holding his pendant and kissing it. “They’ve got these pamphlets, about like, Watchtowers. So I will give them my Jashin ones instead when I see people. Anyway, I plenty of shit about Jehovahs. They do like, church and things and no blood transfusions and that’s what I know.”

The only thing Hidan seemed to know about - as a university drop out of Religion Studies – was what he knew about religion. Unfortunately the one he practised was the most fucked up one in the world and involved human sacrifices, which was why Hidan seemed to borrow Kakuzu’s ute for things like this.

Hidan waved at him and raced off, not exactly dressed for a job interview.

That night Kakuzu took the S87X bus home, because parking in the city everyday would cost $28.95 and he was a bit too stingy for that. Kakuzu lived on the edge of a middle class suburb where kids were most likely not vaccinated and mothers jogged with prams every morning and night. The suburb on the other side of the road was the derro ghetto where Hidan and his housemates lived. He lived in a sharehouse with nine other people but spent most of his time bumming around at Kakuzu’s place.

The light was on, and Kakuzu knew Hidan was inside. He rattled his keys and felt the blast of the air conditioner once he opened it. He put the keys down on his side table purchased from Oxfam and went into the living room. There, Hidan was sitting with the dog Taki, a labradoodle that was purchased because Hidan bought him off Gumtree for $20 before he found out he wasn’t allowed pets at his sharehouse. Also, labradoodles were hypoallergenic and didn’t shed much, so he was allowed on Kakuzu’s couch.Hidan was patting the dog absent-mindedly while watching the Kangaroos lose to the Pies spectacularly at the MCG.

“Turn that shit off,” said Kakuzu. Taki barked and went to Kakuzu happily, greeting his owner. Kakuzu could smell yoghurt, and it seemed that Hidan had been feeding him Fruche from the fridge.

“No.” Hidan got up and padded down the hallway, beckoning Kakuzu to come along - giving him orders in his own fucking house. Kakuzu made Taki stay in the lounge while both of them went out to the neat courtyard with its fake fern plants and the three legged Kmart barbeque Kakuzu never used.

The council bin was placed with the other ones that Kakuzu used himself. He knew which one wasn't his, because there was soapy sediment around the edges.

“Wanna look?”

Hidan opened the bin for less than second, and then the smell hit both of them hard, and Kakuzu banged it shut. “For fucks sake, Hidan!” He looked around as if his nosy neighbours would look over the tin fence.

“Hey! At least he isn’t alive anymore.” Hidan went back inside and grabbed some lynx deodorant, and then proceeded to spray the entire can into the bin, but opened the bin only a crack so it wouldn’t smell. “So when are we leaving?”

Kakuzu sighed. “Tomorrow. I’m not dealing with this shit now.” He opened the flyscreen and went back inside, while Hidan shook the can, and realised it had run out. He shrugged and put the entire can in the bin as well. Kakuzu heard the clonk as it hit the man’s skull.

Hidan the mooch slept on the couch with Taki that night. He fell asleep to Rage on ABC with the dog next to him. When Kakuzu woke up the next morning, it seemed that Hidan had turned the air conditioner on in all the rooms sometime last night. He stomped downstairs (as he was not a morning person) and thumped him on the head.

“What the fuck, man!?” He yelped, grabbing a pillow to cover his face.

“My electricity bill will go through the roof.” Kakuzu growled.

“Get solar panels instead of being with Origin you fucking dickhead.”

Kakuzu ignored him and went into the kitchen to make vegemite and cheese sandwiches for him and Hidan, as they were going on a long trip. Hidan went to check if the lynx spray had worked on the council bin (It hadn’t). Then, he put on Sunrise to check the weather, as for some reason all Australians are obsessed with knowing the weather even though it was February and fucking hot every day.

“Forty-three fucking degrees today,” Hidan called to Kakuzu in the kitchen. “I’m gonna slip slop slap so I don’t end up like a leather handbag with skin cancer like you.”

Taki barked in agreement. Kakuzu didn’t reply, because if he did then Hidan would snarl something back.

But then they got into a fight anyway over Hidan tripping over the TV cable and pulling the TV out. Kakuzu punched Hidan so hard he fell into the TV with a crack.

“At least I know what the weather is today, you fucking idiot.”

The TV was in pieces, so Kakuzu would have to go off to JB Hi-Fi to get a new one later. Hidan offered to put the TV in the bin, but then he put the barbeque in the bin too (“You aren’t fucking using it!”). Kakuzu didn’t even care at this point, as it was seven in the morning on a fucking Saturday and he was supposed to go out into the middle of nowhere to shove another one of Hidan’s dead bodies into a grave.

He remembered the first time he’d met Hidan, which was only a few years ago. Kakuzu had gotten a bit pissed at an antique book dealer for giving him a second edition instead of a first of Banjo Patterson’s collection of poems and verses, so he dug a grave at the local cemetery. Then he killed the dealer, but he turned up to cemetery at three in the morning to find that some other fucker was also depositing a body into the same grave. Kakuzu had pushed Hidan into the shallow grave in anger, but then he jumped out and slashed him in the face with a knife, which required Kakuzu to get stitches on his cheeks. He still had the scars to this day.

And that’s how they became “friends”.

(Or murder buddies, as Hidan happily called them).

The sandwiches were now glad-wrapped and put in the esky, several cans of soft drink were put in ice and Hidan had gone to the BP on the corner and bought two packets of Twisties which were on special for two for $2.50 and they were all set to go.

Kakuzu opened up his shed to set up his ute by checking the oil and water, while Hidan bounced away into the courtyard to sort out the bin. Kakuzu only had this ute for depositing bodies. Putting tarp on the tray, Hidan came into the shed with the council bin, which he had duck taped (“It’s duct-tape, not duck tape, you moron…”) the lid all over so fluids and the body wouldn’t come out. They put a few things around the bin, which was camping gear that they never used but had it just in case they got pulled over, and then put more tarp over it. Hidan swung down from the tray using the bars on top of the ute and roped it down. “Excellent.”

They left Taki with a neighbour with unvaccinated kids, and hopped into the ute and left. They barely got past the BP when Hidan suddenly asked, “Are we there yet?”

Kakuzu smacked him.

Hidan wiped his bloody nose on his bintang singlet and then reached over and wiped it on Kakuzu. Kakuzu didn’t even hit him back for it. Hidan laughed with that crazy shrieking sound he did, rolling down the windows. Kakuzu pulled the Garmin GPS off the window.

“Put the directions in for me.”

Hidan for once, actually did what he was told, then put on the radio, shouting ‘WHAT ABOUT MEEEEEEEEE….” out the window to Shannon Noll’s cover of Moving Pictures. “I’VE HAD ENOUGH AND I WANT MY SHARE, CAN’T YOU SEEEEEEE?????????”

Kakuzu turned the radio off.

“Wanna play iSpy?”

“No. We have five hours to go,” Kakuzu changed gears and they got onto the expressway up North, revving up to 100km/hr and hearing the tarp rattle away behind them.

“No, four hours and thirty minutes,” Hidan pointed at the GPS which displayed the arrival time of the cemetery. “iSpy with my little eye, something beginning with C.”

“Cunt.”

Hidan pretended to look shocked. “How did you know?”

Kakuzu smirked. “I know these things.”

Within the hour Hidan had already eaten all the sandwiches and a packet of Twisties. He offered to pay for Maccas but in fact that meant Kakuzu had to do that because Hidan had minus $138.68 in his account. The radio had to be turned off because Hidan kept switching stations and making racist comments. They left the city now and were in farmland, where it was nothing but fields, the occasional emu herd clogging up the road and locust plagues. It was getting hot. Too hot. The air conditioner was on full blast, although of course this wouldn’t make the dead body any cooler, so when Kakuzu needed petrol Hidan jumped out and got a jerry can full from Shell while Kakuzu drove around waiting.

Back in the ute, they drove a few more hours.

Then something shitty happened.

Hidan was telling Kakuzu about how he believed that the judges on X Factor were secretly Jashinists because they were connected to a set of disappearances ten years ago (he had photos to prove it) when Kakuzu had to put the GPS back in after it accidentally disconnected. Hidan suddenly shrieked and Kakuzu looked up quickly to see a Kangaroo jump in front of the ute and collide with them. There was a loud bang and crunch of metal and Kakuzu swerved onto the other side of the road and barely went into the creek, but into the reeds. The ute shook violently.

Hidan was sprouting a torrent of swearing, saying he wasn’t prepared to die just yet because Jashin told him not to. Kakuzu shut the engine off, and pulled the door open, going into the reeds and hoping there was no snakes in them. He got prickles stuck into his socks. Hidan jumped out the other side and inspected the front. There were bits of fur sticking out the vents, blood wiped over the lights.

“Fuuuuuuuuuccccck,” said Hidan loudly. He looked over at the dead kangaroo on the other side of the dirt road. The head was hanging off an angle and blood was mixing in with the dirt and rocks. “You should have been paying attention.”

“Just shut up, shut up,” Kakuzu went to the back and got the esky out. He threw the soft drinks at Hidan and poured the cooling ice - now water - over the front. It didn’t do much, but he managed to get most of the blood off and wipe off the fur.

“Oh, thank fuck,” Hidan breathed. “Do you want me to drive?”

Kakuzu had been driving for four hours now. He knew where they were, just out of a small country town. He nodded.

Hidan jumped into the driver’s seat, but the engine wouldn’t turn on. “You gotta be fucking KIDDING me,” Hidan lost his temper and hit the horn, which beeped back at him. At least that was working. If he’d hit it any harder the airbag would have come out and suffocated him. He turned to Kakuzu. “You gotta call the RAE.”

“No.”

“Why not!?” Hidan snapped.

“Because we have a dead body in the tray!” Kakuzu hissed. “The RAE could look, and they’ll want to know what that smell is-”

“We can’t dump him here, we gotta get to the fucking cemetery, Jesus fucking Christ on a bike…” Hidan whipped out his phone (also Kakuzu’s old mobile) and squinted at the screen. “Fucking Vodafone…”

“For fuck’s sake,” Kakuzu badgered him out of the car and he opened the seat behind him. “At least Telstra has signal.” He threw his phone at Hidan, who promptly called the RAE. “Next time get a plan where you can get signal in the country.”

“We have half an hour,” said Hidan. He hung up, and gave him back his phone.

The RAE man came around in his yellow van forty-five minutes later.

“Have you got any food?” Hidan asked. “We’ve been driving for days. Like, four hours.”

The man laughed. “Sorry mate, ain’t got no snags and no nothin’ for smoko.” Hidan slightly cringed at the country bogan, because he was a city man through and through and didn’t like anything that was different to what he was used to. The RAE man was very chatty, fiddling around with the front of Kakuzu’s ute.

“So what’ya up to, ‘round these areas?”

“...Camping,” said Kakuzu, feeling sweat trickle down his neck. It was getting hotter and hotter and it wasn’t even lunchtime yet.

“Fuckin’ great. In the arvo they’re opening up the caravan park, but that’s on the town over, it’s not too far, only four hundred kilometres away,” said the RAE man.

Hidan cringed even more. Ew.

“Yes, that is where we are going,” said Kakuzu. He didn’t say any more, because Kakuzu wasn’t a sociable person. Hidan talked to the man about God for a bit, which Kakuzu ignored because well, religion, and then the man argued with Hidan about calling people drongos as apparently it was a shitty word and Hidan wouldn’t use it, because he preferred to use the word cunt instead. Before he left, Hidan offered him the last twisties. He went back into the driver’s seat.

“He didn’t even fucking talk about the dead body smell.”

Kakuzu shrugged. “Might have not noticed it.”

They finally reached the cemetery when it was one thirty. Gumtrees surrounded the cemetery, and galahs were shrieking away. Bull ants went crazy as the ute approached. It was an abandoned cemetery which Hidan used to put his sacrifices. It was a pretty good tactic, because nobody ever came here and nobody checked cemeteries for missing people. The gate was rusty and hot to the touch, and Hidan wanted to run it over because it would just crack but Kakuzu reminded him that it was his ute and his insurance.

Hidan purposely drove over a few graves and then he stopped in the corner, where there was an unidentified grave with a broken angel statue hovering over it. The very occasional rain had washed the names of the people on the headstone away; and left no marks. This grave was their current dumping ground.

About a year ago they’d used a saw to carefully break away the mound then dug a few metres using a small tractor Hidan had stolen from a farm one night. Currently, there were four bodies dumped in here, three of them were Hidan’s sacrifices and one of them was a hitchhiker Kakuzu had run over when he was mad once. On top of the bodies was a small tank so the dirt wouldn’t cave in.

They removed the mound carefully, as it hadn’t rained since the last time they’d been here so the dirt was rock solid. Kakuzu grunted as he managed to get the tank out while Hidan crawled over the tarp on the ute to get hold of the council bin that Pedo-man was in. He peered down to see four skeletons all dumped into one hole, one and a half hours from the nearest town. He didn’t feel anything for them.

Because he didn’t fucking care.

Hidan got the heavy bin down, and got his army knife out of his shorts. He was sweating in the sun, because forty-three fucking degrees was hot. “That soap and lynx must be working,” he mumbled, grinning like a fucking nutcase serial killer (which he was). The knife cut easily into the duct tape and he ripped it off. Hidan hummed loudly. The cicadas were going crazy and all Kakuzu could smell was the thick scent of dust and eucalyptus.

“In you go,” said Hidan cheerfully, pushing the bin down so that the body could slide out and dump itself onto the four skeletons below.

However, Kakuzu flew into a rage as he saw his TV and his barbecue fall out the bin.

“YOU BROUGHT THE WRONG BIN.”

“I-I-I... FUCK.”

- End  -