Jan 22, 2019
@aethelar @angels-dining-at-the-ritz @classicalcassiopeia @swanlaurences
Which one of you fuckers transfigured the coffee to decaf?!
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@aethelar @angels-dining-at-the-ritz @classicalcassiopeia @swanlaurences
Which one of you fuckers transfigured the coffee to decaf?!
[ It’s “Booky”, boss | read previous | read all ]
@kit-levansque
You only get one, boss. Don’t push it.
I’m pretty sure there was a memo? But it would have been sent out at about the same time as the Johnson case, and we Don’t Talk About The Johnson Case. It would have been easy to overlook. Like I said, I go through Long-Term storage every so often and sort out the stuff that gets chucked in there; a lot of stuff I do end up kicking over to the actual Lost and Found - which, apparently, I am also running, since it’s nextdoor to Long-Term Storage, and I’m the only person I’ve ever seen there. Well, aside from the house-elves who clean once a week.
I don’t bother keep track anymore, boss, I just don’t. All I know is that there’s a sign on the door that says they’re open, and people go in and out of the door on a general basis. If you want to talk to them, be my guest - I avoid the DTA. They have some of the most offensive attitudes of anyone I’ve had the displeasure to meet, and I’d be seriously worried that they were planning a coup except they somehow seem to Obliviate each other every other week. Bloody Torchwood.
Boss, Weeping Angels are full-on psychopaths who would kill you as soon as look at you - literally. I have no idea if we have a local colony; you’d have to ask the DTA, and I do not interact with them if I can help it.
I’ll treasure it forever, Levansque. My one and only compliment, given in the Spring of ‘27. I’ll frame it.
Yeeeahhh, I think that was before you started making the important memos explosive. Your exploding memos are the only ones I ever read, because they’re the only ones that inflict bodily harm if I don’t. Oops.
We’re going for the Weeping Angels. Winter Quay, that’s apparently the place - I think? DTA seemed a bit skittish about telling me. It was weird; the girl I asked refused to tell me, then a klaxon went off, three people appeared to try and give her a message - one of whom I’m pretty sure was her identical twin - two more people appeared and tried to “temporarily remove my existence from the time stream” and finally the girl (who had somehow managed to dye and cut her hair in the interim and get her arm in cast) snuck me a piece of paper and told me she was sorry. So now I have to go, because what the fuck is actually going on here. What.
Weird people. I can see why you avoid them. But Winter Quay! It’s happening, as soon as I can get hold of Newt to invite him along.
@elizabeth-graham @classicalcassiopeia @helveticaes
Well, my first foray into the nascent field of paperwork necromancy went - rather well. And Charles didn’t really need those eyebrows anyway.
DELGADO.
DELGADO, THIS RACIST ASSHOLE OF AN AMBASSADOR INSULTED MY HUSBAND IN FRONT OF ME. TO MY FACE, DELGADO.
DELGADO, I NEED YOU TO GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE BEFORE I KILL HIM.
@classicalcassiopeia @elizabeth-graham @prcivalgraves @am-graves
@am-graves @prcivalgraves @classicalcassiopeia @percivalgravesaurorsquad
Well, that’s one good thing I’ve been able to find in this mess. The High Security Vaults are blood-locked - regardless of the shape that Grindelfuck was wearing, the wards would only have recognized the boss’s actual blood (fresh from the vein, no more then three seconds out of the body before it registers as invalid) and magical signature. More importantly, there are no records of him accessing the Vaults.
...I’m still going to need to do an inventory, but there’s a distinct possibility that the Fucker might not even have bothered trying to get in there. (Thank fuck.) Look, I’m probably wrong about this, but at a guess - he’s arrogant. He believes in the in-born power of magicals - the key phrase there is in-born. I get the impression that he believes very strong in inherent power, and the artifacts in the Vaults are representative of power outside of one’s self.
Plus, he’s a European snob who believes we’re all a bunch of backwater hicks who can’t possibly have anything all that powerful hidden away in our Vaults.
In other news, I double-checked the Long Term Storage, and it looks as though the Fucker practically ransacked everything that could possibly be used for scrying. We’re short crystal balls, silver-backed and obsidian mirrors, bottles of ocean water collected at midnight on the full moon, time-locked heat-haze from the High Desert, and braziers stocked with sandelwood and myrth. It’s all replaceable, thank the gods.
@am-graves @elizabeth-graham @classicalcassiopeia @prcivalgraves
Delgado, you apparently underestimated the sheer stupidity of my most recent minions - they bend corners, Delgado. They misfile things. They don’t check their spelling when they write reports, and then they attempt to downplay their grammar errors because ‘no one reads this stuff anyway, right?’
...Delgado. Remember my counterstrike during the Great Paperwork Revolt of ‘24? Specifically, when I glamored my eyes solid black, wore my most ragged robes to work, intoned nonsense at everyone in an echoing voice and generally gave the impression I’d gone full-blown Morgana? (I cleared it with the Boss first of course, I had no desire to be hexed six ways from Sunday).
Purely in a spirit of scientific inquiry - can you think of any way I could have modified that outfit to appear more terrifying?
For thee head cannons, I imagined that Levansque was very isolated at school for being bookish and not theoretical; thus her proclaimed lack of people skills. However, once she got in the Auror force, she made her best friends for life. People from her year still don't get why she is considered a close friend of Percival Graves, one of the most powerful men in America, if not the world! She certainly isn't saying anything...
The fact that the memos I sent him were spelled to explode if left unread was probably the main factor, actually. As was the fact that I felt sorry for him once - it was after the Brady case - and ended up doing most of his paperwork in a belated ‘hope you feel better soon’ gift. (I was young, and relatively innocent).
That got his immediate attention - if by ‘immediate attention’ you’re referring to how he came barging into the staff room, eyes wild and wand at the ready, demanding to know just what kind of infernal magic-user I was to successfully tame the beast known as ‘paperwork’. (He was also severely sleep-deprived at the time). He tried to interrogate me, I handed him a cup of coffee (well, it was one-fourth coffee and three-fourths whiskey) and told him he needed to submit forms 3a through 17b before next Tuesday, he called me a foul beast escaped from the pit and tried to perform an exorcism, I corrected his pronunciation - it all snowballed from there.
@am-graves
@am-graves @classicalcassiopeia @prcivalgraves
That son of a bitch. THAT FUCKING SON OF A BITCH. THAT -
May thy shade thirst for water a thousand years! May thy lands forget thy name, and thine descendants thy grave! May thou wander in the cold an age, and another age, and another age upon that!
By the Iron Queen, I am going to strangle whatever’s left of that fucker once Boss gets through with him - Dia ad aghaidh ’s ad aodann, agus bas dunach ort! Dhonas’s dholas ort, agus leat-sa!
[most of the really good swears are Not Mine, and are either Lovecraft’s or lazulisong‘s]