#*points at Ire* That's our mom

[doueverwonder]

the urge to make the pacific siblings (particularly Alfred and Jack) straight up not understand the concept of aunts/uncles when they were little bc actually all of the British isles are basically their parents :\

[righteousliar]

not to be sad on main but I miss my mom

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Carmilla: "Incidentally, I'm assuming you did not inform your partner about our weekly sessions."

Vaggie: "Of course I told Charlie I'm doing dancing with you."

Carmilla: "You call this dancing?"

Vaggie: "You're the one who said battle was like a dance."

Carmilla: "I'm about to regret saying that."

Charlie: "Vaggie? Sorry for dropping by out of the blue- if hell HAD a blue sky anyway- but I brought DONUTS and-"

FWOOSH FIRE

Demon Charlie: "-WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO HER?!?!"

Carmilla: "The regret has just burned down my favorite axe display case."

Vaggie: "Sweetie! Hi!!!!" (rushes over) (excited hug) "Isn't this great?"

Demon Charlie: "GrEAT? She was attacking you!!!"

Carmilla: "Odette. Clara. Run, now."

Vaggie: "I know. It's pretty neat- She's teaching me more defense stuff, and I'm helping the Carmines test out which weapons are best for using against angels-"

Clara: "Mom, we are so not leaving y-"

Demon Charlie: "BY HAVING THEM USED AGAINST YOU!?"

Odette: "We will await news of your survival from a safe distance, mother. Good luck."

Vaggie: "Yeah and check it out!" (twirls) "Barely a scratch on me!"

Demon Charlie: "VAGGIE THERE ARE AT LEAST FIVE- SIX! SIX CUTS ON YOU AND YOU ARE BLEEDING!"

Vaggie: "Which is a lot better from last week."

Demon Charlie: "It's been like this EVERY week???"

Vaggie: "Yeah?"

Demon Charlie: "...C A R M I L L A...."

Carmilla: "I don't suppose offering to host a formal couple's dance to raise positive PR for your hotel with you both as the guests of honor would help deflect your ire over the current situation?"

Vaggie: "Oh hey that sounds like a great-"

Demon Charlie: "ARMOR!"

Vaggie: "-sudden change of topic uh sweetie what?"

Demon Charlie: "You, like doing these..... insane stupid anti-angel weapons tests?"

Vaggie: "Yes?"

Demon Charlie: "They make you HAPPY??"

Vaggie: "Weren't you the one who pointed out how much more relaxed I've been since I started doing this?"

Demon Charlie: "THEN YOU WILL BE DOING IT! IN! ARMOR!!!"

Carmilla: "Hmm. An interesting concept."

Vaggie: "But babe, I don't know how to move or fight in-"

Charlie: "I DONT CARE!!!"

Vaggie: "-wouldn't be moving like an exorcist anymore, kinda ruining the whole point of-"

Charlie: "I don't care. Armor. You. Wear it."

Vaggie: "Hun, the weapon data..."

Charlie: "Fuck the weapon data. Safety FIRST. PLEASE."

Vaggie: "...okay. Alright. I'll. Wear some stupid armor."

Charlie: "And a helmet????"

Vaggie: "Fine."

Charlie: "Thank you, Vaggie." (hug)

Charlie: "And thank YOU, Carmilla, for volunteering to host a ballroom dance party for the hotel! I'm sure it'll be a KILLER success!"

Carmilla: "I'm sure."

Charlie: "As long as you take good careful care of my girlfriend, I mean! Things would not go WELL if you for example oh I don't know accidentally KILLED HER or anything, ha ha ha!"

Carmilla: "Yes. I did get that impression. As did my burnt and half melted floors..."

Vaggie: "Wait so, how much armor do I really have to wear-"

Charlie: "ALL the armor, Vaggie. ALL of it~"

[unabashegirl]

Enticing 47 — Harry Styles x CEO

Summary: Harry is a young billionaire and CEO of his own company. He mostly keeps to himself, he is stern and very meticulous when it comes to business. He also likes to keep his personal life very private for the sake of his newly born son Oliver Styles. It isn't until he meets Y/N Y/L/N that everything changes. She becomes his new nanny after his previous one quits due to personal reasons. She is young, caring, and sweet. Will they ignore their feelings? Will Harry's girlfriend accept their love and leave them? Will she be able to cope with his busy agenda? What about Oliver's mother? Where is she? Who is she?

masterlist

Fury was an inadequate description. His blood simmered, muscles tensed, and an intense headache began to claim his senses. The invasion of his home by his parents, attempting to persuade him to leave his pregnant girlfriend, left him seething. His ire was particularly directed at his mother. Harry, who had been a staunch supporter of his mother, found himself taken aback by her actions. The dynamics had shifted, and it surprised him.

"I thought you liked Y/N, Mom," Harry pointed out, circling around his office desk, pulling out a chair, and taking a seat.

"Please," his mother huffed, rolling her eyes, "after that outburst in the Hamptons, did you think I would continue to tolerate her?" The word 'tolerate' cut deep, and Harry could sense that she was once again under his father's influence. "She's not fit to be with someone of your caliber, honey. Please try to understand."

Harry let out a heavy laugh at her words.

"As if you were. You were a nobody before you met my father. He made you into what you've become. Without him, you are nobody." Mrs. Styles' demeanor instantly changed. Harry realized he had wounded her in the same way she had wounded him. Despite his love for his mother, this wasn't the woman he knew.

"I went to visit you in the office, and I wasn't allowed in. May I know why?" Mr. Styles finally interrupted, sitting beside his wife. She reached for his hand, seeking comfort, but he pulled away, ignoring the gesture.

"You have no business being there. I also don't like being disturbed at work or at my home," Harry added. "I guess it's clear what's going to happen here, right?" He rolled up his sleeves and took a sip of his whiskey. "You are to forget about me and my family. I'm not leaving Y/N. I'm staying with her and our kids. Say goodbye to your grandkids because you'll never see them again."

"You can't prevent me from going to the office, Edward," his father sneered, leaning in. "I built that company into what it is today. I'm still on the board. I could get you fired with a snap of my fingers," Richard Styles warned, relishing the feeling that his son was challenging him.

Harry couldn't believe it. He was a grown man, and his father was threatening to snatch his company away as if it were some trivial possession. Adding insult to injury, Richard had deliberately called him Edward, a childhood taunt that harked back to times of abuse, when Richard would mistreat Harry's mother, and young Harry would intervene, only to be yelled at and pushed aside.

"Try me," Harry retorted, "No one on the board would support it. I'm making them too wealthy for them to ever let me go, father. Something you failed miserably to achieve at my age because you were too busy indulging in recklessness and fucking drowning your life in alcohol."

Richard rose to his feet, lunging across the table to grab Harry.

"You insolent fool. I should have put an end to you when I had the chance," Harry remained composed. "That woman is going to be your fucking downfall, Edward."

"Get out!" Harry demanded, his voice escalating. "Get the fuck out of my house and erase any memory of ever having a son! Both of you," he shouted, pointing to the door. "OUT. I've had enough of your nonsense!"

Harry harbored an indescribable hatred for his father. Richard was selfish and cold, devoid of any merit for politeness from Harry. When Harry became a father himself, he had hoped for a revelation, a sense of understanding or sympathy for Richard. Yet, it turned out to be the opposite. Harry loved Oliver unconditionally, placing him above all else. The profound contempt Richard held for his own children remained an unfathomable mystery to Harry.

As Richard rose and surveyed the room, Jacqueline took a moment to compose herself.

"Harry, I—" she began, attempting to speak before leaving.

"I said get out, Mom. I don't want to hear it. You've betrayed me beyond comprehension. I don't want to see you again," Harry asserted firmly, his tone unforgiving. "I don't want to hear it again." Jacqueline, laden with guilt and remorse, didn't utter a word. She simply adjusted the end of her Chanel suit and exited the room.

Y/N arrived much later than anticipated. The meeting had extended far beyond her expectations, leaving her unable to leave promptly. Upon entering the apartment, she kicked off her heels at the front door and hung her purse on the foyer table. The entire place was eerily silent, with all the lights on the ground floor turned off except for the staircase. A brief moment of unease set in until she spotted Mrs. Johnson descending the stairs, which immediately put her at ease.

"Why is it so quiet?" Y/N inquired. Typically, when she arrived, the TV was on, lights were ablaze, and Harry and Oliver were somewhere in the kitchen or on the couch.

"Mr. Styles is taking a nap upstairs. Oliver just settled down too," Mrs. Johnson explained.

"A nap? Is he okay?" Y/N questioned, surprised by the unusual resting.

"It's been quite an eventful evening, Ms. Y/L/N. Richard and Jacqueline forced themselves up here," Mrs. Johnson revealed, hinting at the unpleasant news they might have delivered.

"How bad is it?"

"He has been sleeping since five," she replied, and Y/N frowned. It was already nine-thirty, and Harry rarely slept that much.

"Alright. I'll see what I can do."

"Would you like some supper?"

"It's alright, Mrs. Johnson. I made sure to order takeout already. You can retire for the evening if you'd like," Y/N smiled before ascending the stairs, one hand on the railing for support.

The bedroom welcomed her with its cold and dark atmosphere. Y/N illuminated the space with her phone, ensuring a safe path to avoid any accidental mishaps. Noticing the balcony slide door slightly ajar explained the chilly temperature. Moving quietly, she tiptoed across the room, spotting Harry's suit on the floor. Approaching his side, she switched on a dimmed light.

He lay there, one hand covering his face, phone nearby. Still clad in the light blue button-down shirt he wore with his suit during the day, Y/N gently traced her hand down his back in an attempt to rouse him. She planted a few soft kisses on his cheek, watching as he gradually opened his eyes.

"Hello, darling," she greeted, kissing his nose. "How was your sleep?" Harry hummed in response, attempting to fully wake up.

"Hi," he smiled with his eyes slightly closed. "You're late," Harry pointed out, stretching out his arms. “Too much work?”

"My meeting ran longer than expected," Y/N explained as she unbuttoned her shirt and pants, contemplating the idea of getting pregnancy clothes for work. Harry smiled at her lovingly, his gaze drifting to her round belly, unable to contain the inevitable smile. He reached out and gently caressed her, reveling in the softness of her skin against his.

"Complaining about work, Mr. Styles? That's quite unlike you," Harry grunted with a broad smile, pulling her onto his lap. She laughed heartily as his fingers playfully tickled her sides, prompting her to burst into even more laughter. "I guess I'll just have to start coming home early for the missus."

"Oh, stop it!" Harry laughed. "You stood me up! I waited for you all night!"

"Stop!" she pleaded. "I am going to pee my pants or have the baby if you don't!" Y/N warned as he loosened his grip on her. "I love you," she whispered as she calmed down.

"I love you." He kissed the tip of her nose, a hand caressing the side of her tummy as she rested her head on his bicep.

"I've got great news," Y/N added after pushing some of his hair away from his face.

"Do tell," Harry whispered, kissing her uncovered shoulder.

"I got a call from Dr. Williams, and the genetic test results are ready. He sent them over today."

"All right. What did they say?"

"I don't know." Y/N bit her bottom lip as Harry's kisses on her neck and shoulders abruptly stopped. "I haven't checked them out yet. I wanted to wait for you. Plus, the gender is also attached." She was beyond nervous. Every time she opened her phone, it felt like the email called out to her, begging her to open and read the results. Y/N hoped that their baby was healthy.

"Well, let's read it then."

"I am nervous," she whispered as she reached for her phone, which had been placed on the nightstand upon entering. Harry grabbed both of her hands and kissed them.

"We will be all right." Harry sat up and pulled her onto his lap as she held her phone close to her body with shaking hands.

--> chapter 48

TAGLIST: @0oolookitsme, @happycupcakeenthusiast, @kennedywxlsh, @hsfics, @stylesbrock, @bluemoonedwings, @cherriesrae, @vornilla, @mellamolayla, @harryscurls21, @stilesissaved, @be-with-me-so-happily, @harryssattelitestomper, @jerseygirlinca, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @lomloliviam @stylesfever, @daphnesutton, @n0vaj3an, @breezykpop, @kathb59, @sassamanda77, @sherbitdibdab

[squidsinashirt]

U must have some amazing stories about your dad u can share! 🤩

I’ve sat on this one for a bit, sorry Anon. Wasn’t intentional but I… just didn’t know how to answer it.

I mean, I get it. He’s Jeff Tracy, right? The Jeff Tracy. I can remember being just a little kid, and going to meet him off coming home from his latest mission. All these huge crowds cheering for him, those amazing rockets, and little me thinking all this, for my dad?

The thing is, everybody has their own stories about him. It’s fascinating, because you’ll hear all these other tales that exist only thanks to other people. Colonel Casey, Captain Taylor, heck even Kip Harris knew him. All these huge figures have got larger than life tales of the incredible things Jeff Tracy did, and was, and inspired. There’s statues and plaques to him, and you can take a tour at the space centre about his missions, and there’s books and movies and documentaries…

There are five incredible machines he dreamt up, standing by to help achieve this fantastical goal of his to help the world. I suppose in a way, you get to snatch a little glimpse of who Jeff Tracy was, and what he believed in, every time one of them appears to save the day. Every time some kid points an excited finger up at Thunderbird Two or squints after a contrail that was Thunderbird One, there he is. That magic, that excitement, that kind of imposing extraordinary that he did so well.

Anyway, to get back on track. People come bounding up to us, to me, and they ask this sort of question all the time, and that’s the thing about being JEFFTRACYSSON (said in one breath at rapid pace, because that’s the way people greet you). I get the curiosity, I really do. I don’t say it with any malice intended, and it’s comforting to know he still has that kind of impact. I’m always happy to talk about him, I promise!

It’s simple to be JEFFTRACYSSON when you pull on an International Rescue uniform. It took a little practice to ease into at first, but it’s perfected now. It’s really easy to talk about how we believe in his dream, how we’ve all taken on that duty in our individual and collective ways. In the importance of iR, in what it means to us as family. Shiny uniform, perfect hair, smile and wave and save some lives 💪🏻

Please don’t read into this in the wrong way - I’m very proud to be Jeff Tracy’s son. It’s actually quite difficult to really put across how strongly I feel about the weight of that title, because it’s pretty sacred (and also a little intimidating at times). Everywhere we go, it’s “oh, you must be Jeff’s boy” or “oh, you’re a Tracy”, and that means there’s instantly an expectation to live up to, both publicly and privately. It’s a privilege, it really is, and I think it’s a kind of sacrosanct commitment that has really been at the centre of my thinking as I’ve gotten older - how to try and be the sort of man that deserves that kind of birthright.

I don’t just mean the public side of being Jeff Tracy’s son. See, behind the scenes, to me, to us as a family, he was every bit human in a very ordinary way.

He made the best Sunday pancakes.

He cheered far too loudly at swim competitions (and teenage me was perpetually mortified by it) and was every bit as encouraging and supportive as you might guess.

He told these excellent, awful dad jokes, always at just the wrong (or right, I suppose) moments that made you groan.

He used to let me drive his old truck up the drive when he came home from a long mission, playing country songs with the window rolled down.

We loved pranking Mom together by hiding in the laundry bin and jumping out like idiots.

He told the most spectacular, far fetched bedtime stories he swore were real, and my brothers and I could never get enough of them.

He was also away for months on end in space, or training, or lost in his plans and ideas and dreams, and sometimes that meant he wasn’t really here with us, even if he was.

He couldn’t do laundry for shit, and he was absolutely useless at trying to run a house with five young sons on his own, and only a military background to lean on for ideas (thanks Grandma and Scott for saving that one).

Being Jeff Tracy’s son is a little more complex than just the uniform, I guess, and because of that I don’t always recognise the Jeff Tracy in the books and the movies, the one that people are so desperate to hear more about.

I think that’s why I find answering questions like this so difficult, and why maybe my answers never land particularly well with the people who ask this. Because the expectation for them is an entire reel of grand tales that haven’t been heard yet out of me. Some heroic, unbelievable stories that reads like the plaques - and then they are always a little disappointed that it turns out all I can say is that he was a real person. Somebody who was very human and very brilliant and very flawed, and who I loved very much. Because to me, he’s my dad.

And ultimately, nobody wants to hear about that. It doesn’t fit their two dimensional, mythical image of him, or my brothers and I for that matter. Us being a fairly regular family doesn’t really inspire the kind of tales that perhaps lend themselves to be told.

(This is the biggest reason I don’t do interviews, because I’d be like you wanna hear about the time he took us on a hiking trip, got us lost in a storm and Mom nearly divorced him because she thought we’d all been eaten by coyotes? No? It’s hilarious, honestly!)

That’s alright, though. Like I said, the movies and the books are there to tell those stories, and Lee Taylor will happily yap your ear off for an hour about their exploits if you want. Dad’s legacy, in that form, is more than secure.

They’re not going to ever be able to tell you about his favourite pancake toppings though, or his favourite song to dance to in the kitchen or his favourite swear word, and there’s the real privilege in getting to be Jeff Tracy’s son. In getting to carry him forward, not just the stories.

…

…

This got a lot deeper than I intended it to go. I’ve had a beer and I rambled. Sorry Anon.

Ahem. Good question! I guess I’m just not the best person to answer it, ironically enough ;)

I guess the best that I can offer is that if you are ever in trouble and call us, just know that there was a really great human being behind the face that made it all possible, who told the worst jokes, but who cared a whole f-ing lot.

*insert generic story here about Dad and a rocket*

[mama-qwerty]

for the wip ask game I am quite curious about “Chasing the sun”

Chasing the Sun is basically my Eclipse origin story for my verse. At the moment Callie has just rescued him from dying from an infected injury on his arm, and he's thinking he'll simply play the secret agent to get the goods on humans for his father. (Even though he's not quite sure why he's on Earth to begin with.)

Got a bit of the next chapter started.

“Mom?” Silver’s voice wavered a bit as he called her, and she turned to find him peeking out the front window closest to the door. Callie moved closer, giving his bristling forehead fan a quick brush flat. “What’s up, Bug?” A quick check made her frown. The Pearl Clutchers were here. A group of xenophobes who had paid her a visit after she’d taken in Silver, touting the utter tripe of “Earth for humans!” and generally making it very clear that the alien children who’ve come to call Green Hills home were decidedly and completely unwelcome. She uttered a soft grunt, before looking down at the hedgehog with a little smile. “Why don’t you head into the kitchen for a snack, huh?” she said, giving him a little stroke on the muzzle. His eyes flicked to the window. He wasn’t stupid—he knew these people. And he knew why they were here. “Go in the kitchen, Silver,” Callie said, her voice a little quieter and more serious. She didn’t want him anywhere near these people, or overhearing anything they had to say. “Take your friend with you. Go on.” The boy hesitated for a moment, before nodding and heading back. With a breath to calm herself, Callie opened the door and offered the group on her porch a tight lipped stare. “I was expecting you people at some point. I imagine you’ve got a book burning to get to later, so let’s get this over with.” Her comment was met with disgusted noises, and a few of them exchanged glances. There were six total, and while she recognized them from around town, none were any she would call friends. Or even acquaintances, really. One of the group stepped forward. Callie couldn't immediately place her name, but had seen her and her twin around town. Had a run in with them, in fact, as she and Silver had been shopping one day. They were both in their late 60s, at least, and wore identical frowns, their mouths pulled down and deepening the lines at the edges. “We understand you’re keeping a dangerous creature in there.” Callie cocked an eyebrow. “That’s an odd way to say ‘a hurt and lost child’, but in the interest of moving this along and getting you people the hell off my porch, let’s cut to the chase, shall we?” That drew another few glances, when a younger lady spoke next. “Is he in there or not?” Her brows furrowed, a look of annoyance on her face. “I think we have a right to know when there’s a monster in town.” Callie turned and pegged her with a cold stare. “He’s a child, and if you must know, yes, I’m looking after him. I fail to see why that’s any concern of yours.” “The safety of our children is our concern,” she replied, her eyes flicking down to the bandage on Callie’s arm. “He injured you. What’s to stop him from going after any of us? Our children?” “He bit me because he was delirious with fever and an infection that nearly cost him his life,” Callie said, and kept from speaking through gritted teeth by sheer will. These people really got her ire up. “He has done nothing threatening since.” “He’s a danger!” the woman said, and Callie finally placed her as the mother to one of the brats who came to the library every week. “He should be muzzled, at the very least! For all our safety!” There was a murmur of agreement behind her, and Callie took a small step forward, ready to bite steel and spit nails. “Your precious little Jacob bit me three times last month,” she said, her voice tight and sharp. “I assume his muzzle is on order?”

My girl has no time or patience for this bullshit.

[aftgsucks]

NMFTG Chapter 25

Christmas Miracles

Still in New York for the holidays Neil has several very sane conversations

ao3: chapter below cut

Neil spent the next two days of the vacation sitting on the couch with a blanket over his eyes as everyone ignored his suffering. 

“Why did Riko call you that? Stop pretending to be asleep. I can hear you mumbling, answer me.”

“Okay, I think you were right about the stitches, but please take it easy.” 

“Neil I need you to take me to an Exy court, I can’t live like this Neil, Neil please.” 

“Make a noise so Katelyn knows you’re alive, she won’t hang up until you do.” 

“Buddy, are you sure you’re okay? You keep saying you’re okay and then not moving for long periods of time?” 

“Neil, are you sure you’re not feeling up to broadway, we’re going to broadway!” 

“Why did Jean keep saying you were gonna die?”

Neil sat up, pulled the blanket off his head and squinted at Aaron. Everyone else was out seeing something called Spring Awakening. “Why do you hate Andrew?”

“I don’t hate him,” Aaron sputtered. 

“You don’t talk to him, ever, and he doesn’t talk to you.” It was the core of all their colossal issues, that the two of them wouldn’t just talk to each other. 

“This is besides the point—“

“No, I’ll answer if you answer.” 

“He killed my mom.” Aaron said it with a surprising amount of anger. 

“Wasn’t she abusing you?” 

“Oh my god, did he tell you that? Why would he tell you that?”

“I asked.”

“You asked Andrew about our mother and he answered you?”

“Yes, asking, that thing people do when they talk to each other.”

“Andrew was lying to you, alright, he killed her because she gave him up and he’s a petty bastard.”

“Andrew doesn’t lie.”

“That’s all he does.” Was Aaron insane? Was Neil? Had they both shuddered into some alternate reality where the guy who goes around saying whatever hard truth that enters his mind was somehow a liar? 

“Aaron, I am quite literally a pathological liar. Andrew doesn’t lie.”

“So, your name isn’t Neil? Riko was right?” 

“Oh my god,” Neil flung himself back down on the couch and immediately regretted it. “I can produce very convincing looking documents that all say my name is Neil Josten.” 

“THAT ISN’T AN ANSWER.” 

“Why does this matter?” Neil asked. “Can’t you just let me be Neil? Can’t this just be enough?” Who cared if Neil was lying a little bit about everything or a lot about his identity. Aaron didn’t work for the IRS, what did it matter.

“Why did Jean keep saying you were going to die? You specifically.” 

“Oh we all die someday--”

“Be serious, for fucking once just give me the real answer. You’re worse than Andrew, I swear.” 

Neil sat up again, stood up. Was confronted with his own truly degenerate B.O. He grabbed Aaron’s shoulder and looked into his nervous eyes. “Jean kept saying I was going to die because I am. Don’t worry about it.” 

“Don’t worry about it?” Aaron turned and started pacing the living room. “You can’t just say that and expect me to shrug it off and move on with my life, what is Riko going to do?”

“Riko is going to keep skulking about thinking he knows everything, it doesn’t matter.”  

“You’re my best friend, dipshit, I don’t want you to die!” 

“Best friend?” Neil asked. He sat back down on the couch.

“Oh, don’t sound so surprised, it’s either you or Kevin and you piss me off less.” Aaron’s face went red and he avoided eye contact.

“Huh,”  he’d seriously need to get around to asking someone what constitutes friendship, although Neil can’t be doing too bad if he’s got a best friend, even if said best friend Aaron ‘born to irritate’ Minyard. 

“So, it matters, alright. What’s going to happen to you?” 

“I will mouth off to the wrong person and they will inevitably dismember me. Look, it probably won’t be Riko, he’s not as good as he thinks. I’ve been hoping your brother would put me out of my misery but to be honest I think he finds me amusing.” Such obvious bait. 

“What the fuck is going on with you and my brother?” And yet Aaron is just a brainless fish. 

What was going on with Andrew? Crisis prevention? Aaron had called them ‘weird murder buddies,’ which didn’t feel right exactly, but it wasn’t like Andrew was around to offer his two cents on the matter. 

“I think we’re friends,” Neil admitted, bewildered with the realization. But if the other Foxes were his friends, and it seemed ridiculously that they were, Neil spent just as much if not more time around Andrew. Andrew trusted him, at least with his family, and most to watch his back, to be handed a knife and stand guard. To stand a bit closer then he let most people get. Friends didn’t feel right with anyone but what else was Neil supposed to call it?

“He doesn’t have friends, he has control issues and knives.” 

“You are so weird, you are all so weird,” Neil tilted his head back and looked at the ceiling, it gave him no comfort. “I, the scarred dangerous stranger who almost killed a guy two days ago, can have friends. But your brother, who by all means is just some guy, can’t?” 

“HE KILLED MY MOM.” 

“So? I lit my mom’s dead body on fire and watched it turn to ash, are we no longer best friends?” 

“Why the fuck would you do that?” Aaron’s face went pale. 

“Because if anyone found her body it would be easier to track me down, I bet Andrew didn’t even delicately pull your mother’s still warm bones from the fire and bury them on a beach.” 

“You are lying to me, right? This is part of your whole pathological liar routine?” 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, you’re the one who wanted me to kill Riko in front of you.” 

“Oh, fuck Riko, at least if someone killed him things would get better.” 

“And things didn’t get better when Andrew killed your mom?” 

“Jesus Christ, why can’t I know any normal people?” 

“You know Katelyn,” Neil shrugged. 

“I am in love with Katelyn, and she thinks I’m a catch, she’s not normal.” 

“What are the terms of your deal with Andrew?” 

Aaron groaned and sat down on the couch. “I stay with him until graduation, stay clean, don’t associate with anyone he doesn’t approve of and in return he gets the satisfaction of ruining my life.” 

“Aaron.” 

“He protects me from women.” 

“You are the dumbest motherfucker in the world.” 

“Okay, now we’re no longer best friends.” 

Neil dragged a hand through his hair, so specifically stupid. The way that Aaron runs around doing exactly what he promised not to, expecting Andrew to what? Give up? Not kill Katelyn? “Hey, hey, dumb fuck,” Neil said, kicking Aaron’s leg until he turned to look at him. “No amount of me being friends with Katelyn is going to stop Andrew from murdering her, you need to sort this out when he gets back.” 

“How the fuck do you expect me to do that? Anytime I have ever tried to talk to him he pulls out a fucking knife!” 

“Oh boohoo, the consequences of your actions.” Neil only had so many friends he couldn’t afford to have them all killing each other while he was still alive. “What do you want? Do you want him to fuck off forever, do you just want him to stay out of your shit, do you even want a brother?” 

“I’ve always wanted a brother, he’s the one who told me to fuck off!” And for good reason, even if Aaron was a little too slow and set in his opinions of Andrew to realize it. 

“Fine then, here’s what you’re going to do. The third day after Andrew get’s back from rehab you go up to him and you ask him to negotiate, be clear, be concise, be willing to barter, and fucking listen when he tells you no.” 

“He’s not going to listen to me.” 

He probably wouldn’t considering how every other interaction with Aaron must have gone for them to get to this point. “You have to prove that you’re willing to listen.” 

“I have to prove,” Aaron scoffed. 

“Yes, jackass, Andrew isn’t like you. He’s like me. Why do you think it’s taken me so long to even entertain the idea that we are friends? You have to meet him where he’s at.” 

“Is that what you did?”

“I guess, look, just.” This was impossible, Neil was setting the team up for mass self-destruction via two stubborn bastards. “The two of you need a fucking mediator and if I try to do it I will lose my patience and kill either the both of you or myself. Call Dobson, ask her to do it.” She had proven herself a miracle worker, even if Neil would rather chew off his right hand then talk to her again. 

“You really are his friend, aren’t you?” Aaron looked vaguely horrified at the idea. Be it that he had something in common with Andrew or that someone actually liked being around his brother, Neil couldn’t tell. 

“I honestly think if I tried to say that to him he would stab me,” now there’s an idea. 

“I’m telling Katelyn you said she’s your friend.” 

“Okay.” 

The others came back after their show and they all helped Randy decorate for Christmas. Soft music with demented lyrics played, all stuff about Santa going on a murder spree or chipmunks biting it. Randy and Matt sang along loudly and the others found it begrudgingly amusing. Neil went where he was directed, the couch, and did the job Randy gave him, opening ornament boxes and handing them out to the others. 

All of the ornaments were old and worn, each one a little snapshot from Randy and Matt’s life. A picture of Matt as a baby in a snowman frame, a little exy racquet, a boxing glove, a fox. Their whole lives in small objects hung on a tree. It was interesting. 

Nicky was begging Randy for more baby photos of Matt when a knock sounded at the door. 

“Nicky, could you stop being a nuisance and get the door?” Matt asked. 

Suspicious, very suspicious. Neil considered sprinting across the room and opening the door first, but his head still hurt so he stayed put and watched Nicky go to the door. 

Nicky opened the door and immediately burst into tears, the man--who Neil hoped was Erik--wrapped Nicky up in a hug, lifted him off the ground and pressed kisses to his face and head. 

Neil looked at Matt who was beaming with clear involvement. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Nicky was chanting inbetween sobs. 

“Yes, baby, I love you too,” Erik said in german. The likelihood of this tall blonde guy speaking German and holding onto Nicky for dear life not being Erik was insanely small. “HI,” Erik said in heavily accented English to the rest of them, over Nicky’s shoulder. 

“Hey Erik,” Aaron said without inflection. 

“Okay, okay,” Nicky hopped down from Erik's arms and let him come into the apartment. “This is Randy, she’s amazing. Matt, her son. Kevin, who only talks about Exy. And Neil--” 

“The one whose ass you kept telling me about?” Erik asked in amused German. 

Oh, did Erik think that was funny? Well, Neil was about to be hilarious.

“Yup, that’s me, if you could get him to stop talking about my ass that would be great actually,” Neil said in german. 

“YOU’VE KNOWN GERMAN THIS WHOLE TIME?” Nicky yelled. 

“Oh my fucking god,” Aaron awed. “No, no way.” 

“Yeah I lived in Germany for a while as a kid,” Neil answered, still in German. 

“This is hilarious,” Erik said in English. “You are my new favorite man.” 

“Erik!” Nicky whined. 

“Second favorite man.” 

“I am so impressed that you managed to sit on that one for this long,” Matt said. “How?” 

“I honestly kept forgetting to tell anyone.” 

“How many languages do you know?” Aaron asked. 

“Uh, fluent in three, okayish in another four.” 

“Andrew’s gonna lose his shit when he finds you you’ve understood us this whole time,” Nicky warned. 

“Andrew knows,” Neil told him. “Honestly, I figured he would have told you but then you kept talking about my ass.” 

“Why did Andrew get to know you speak German!” 

“He asked.” 

“If we ask you questions will you tell us the truth?” Matt asked. 

“It’s entirely possible.” Neil shrugged. He wouldn’t go around giving any monologues about his torrid past, but the idea of answering some questions with a bit of honesty wasn’t as revolting as it once was. Friends, yeah? That’s what they all were, hostile but loyal. 

Nicky and Erik took off on their own and the rest of them settled in to watch movies. 

Neil woke Kevin up early the next morning on Christmas Eve, dragged him out of bed and ignored his bitching while he made them coffee and shoved Kevin out the door. 

“Are we going to court?” Kevin asked, still bleary and exhausted. 

“No, we’re going shopping.” Neil told him. 

“You hate shopping, let’s just go to court.” 

“Yeah, I do hate shopping but we need to get everyone Christmas presents.”

“What?”

“Presents, for the team, people who care about each other occasionally exchange items,” he was adapting Matt’s dating rules, there was certainly enough proof to suggest it was the right track. All of the holiday movies they’d watched the night before had suggested the same.

“That’s,” Kevin dragged his hands across his face. “Neil, what?” 

“I have never had friends, I’ve also never bought anyone presents.” They stepped outside and Neil started ushering Kevin towards the subway. “You’re going to help me.” 

“Why?” 

“Because we’re friends.” 

“That’s--” Kevin made a face. “Fine, but I’m not getting anyone anything.” 

“Yes you are.” 

“I don’t do presents.” 

“We’re learning right now. Look,” Neil grabbed onto Kevin’s arm. “I am going to die, you won’t. You get to live Kevin. So, you are going to live. You’re gonna let the upperclassmen befriend you and you’re going to keep dragging Andrew to court. And you are going to be fine. You will have friends and a team and Coach and Abby and you will live a long stupid life for the both of us.” 

“I don’t know how to do this,” Kevin admitted. 

“You think I do?” 

“I don’t know how to do any of it, Exy makes sense at least.” 

“I don’t think it’ll ever get any easier, but it’s worth it. Isn’t it?” 

Kevin scratched his left hand. And gestured for Neil to keep leading the way. They got onto the subway and sat in silence while Neil threw Riko’s SIM card into the air and caught it over and over again. He still hadn’t decided what to do with it, hadn’t worked up the nerve to slip it into a phone and look through the contents. Maybe he’d ask Andrew for help in the New Year and pawn it off on him.

Shopping was inordinately hard, Kevin and Neil kept arguing over what people would like. Neil found a t-shirt with a mangy looking cat on it and showed it to Kevin, “this is you.” Neil said. 

Kevin retaliated in the next store with a picture of a dumb looking sheep. And on it went. As Neil picked out the softest scarves and sweaters he could find and Kevin tried to make an argument for nutrition based gifts. 

“Should we get stuff for Coach or Abby?” Neil asked. 

Kevin looked at the wall of coffee mugs. “Probably, I think Nicky did.” 

Neil grabbed two and put them in the cart. Done and done. 

Kevin picked up a mug covered in racquets, “Wymack’s my father,” he said quiet and defeated. 

That made a concerning amount of sense. “Are you going to tell him?” Neil asked. 

“I don’t think it’ll go over well.” 

It wouldn’t, Wymack wouldn’t believe him and Dan would probably challenge him to a duel for Wymack’s honor or something equally ridiculous. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t think Wymack would stab you.” 

“Neil.” 

“I’m just saying, as far as fathers go he seems very unstabby. Against stabbing even, if we consider how he reacts to Andrew.” 

“None of this is fair.” It wasn’t a complaint or a whine, it was just a fact. 

“I know,” Neil agreed. “You should tell him he’s your father while I’m still around. A little entertainment is the least I deserve.” 

Kevin reached over and shoved him. Neil shoved him back. Kevin grabbed a mug off the shelf and then shoved the cart forward. 

“You should talk to Dan,” Neil told him. 

“What?’ 

“Well, she’s the captain and wants to be Wymack when she grows big and grumpy. She’s basically your older sister.” 

“You’re insufferable.” 

“I’m delegating, I can’t help you with this shit, my experience with fathers is exclusively being hunted for sport. Besides, if you go to Dan first she might not hate you forever.” 

“I don’t care if she hates me or not,” Kevin grumbled. 

“You’re going to start,” Neil told him. “You have to carry on being a demented asshole for me after I’m dead and that means caring about all the other demented little assholes on our team.” 

“That’s not--” 

“I don’t care, this is what I’m asking you to do. Will you do it?” 

“You’re asking for a lot.” 

“It’s literally my dying wish.” 

“I’ll try.” 

They finished shopping before noon, before anyone else even had the chance to wake up and wonder where they’d run off too. Neil managed to discreetly ask Randy for spare wrapping paper and then him and Kevin horrifically wrapped and labeled all their gifts for everyone. Most went into the new suitcase Neil had bought while they were out for this purpose. A whole second bag to lug presents back to South Carolina. 

Randy passed around eggnog and Erik told everyone stories about Germany. They all played cards and Randy put on old Christmas music to fill the air. Kevin made conversation and didn’t insult anyone for the whole night. 

It was nice. It was nice to see Nicky so happy, Aaron so calm, Kevin so trying. Matt seemed pleased and his mom seemed over the moon and Neil thought it was all just really nice. It was nice to spend this time with them, it was even nice to miss the others. To look at the texts from the girls and Seth and think about Andrew in rehab and know that they were all safe enough. That he would see them in the new year. It was nice that he got to have any of this at all. 

A warm blanket wrapped around him as he played a game everyone explained the rules to, it was good. 

Late in Christmas morning everyone came into the living room on some sort of understood Holiday tradition. Matt and Randy exchanged presents. Randy gave them all candy and an invitation to come back in the Summer. 

Nicky handed out presents, he gave Aaron a set of video games and Matt a stack of horrible looking movies. He gave Randy a pair of earrings and Kevin a set of leather gloves. He gave Neil a soft black coat. 

Nicky kissed Erik on the cheek and sat back down with him. 

“Right then,” Neil said, he poked Kevin in the side. 

Kevin got up and got the wrapped presents from Randy’s guestroom. 

“You got us presents?” Nicky asked in an amazed slightly shrill voice. 

Neil and Kevin handed them out silently. 

Neil gave Randy a soft scarf, Kevin gave her a coffee mug that said, “Mama Said Knock You Out,” on it. 

“Oh, thank you,” she said, touched. 

Neil gave Matt a T-Shirt with some movie character Matt liked on it. Kevin gave him a book of comics that seemed vaguely familiar to one of Matt’s other pop culture obsessions. 

“These are both really thoughtful,” Matt admitted, his jaw slack.

Neil gave Aaron a keychain that doubled as brass knuckles. Kevin gave him a book on the history of handwashing. 

“You motherfuckers.” 

They each gave Erik an envelope containing IOU’s with the offer to pay for flights to South Carolina. 

“Thank you,” Erik said with a giant smile, slipping the envelopes back into his pocket before Nicky could look at them. 

Neil gave Nicky a fuzzy sweater and Kevin gave him a pair of socks covered in the word “Slut.” 

“You guys got me presents,” Nicky was crying. 

“Aaron have you never gotten your cousin a present?” Neil asked in utter disbelief. 

“Oh, shut the fuck up, I called Erik didn’t I.” 

“I’m telling Katelyn.” 

Aaron stood up grumbled and cursed and left the room and then came back still grumbling and cursing with his backpack. He pulled out a wrapped present that he tossed to Nicky and then one that he threw at Neil. “These are from Katelyn, not me. Shut up. She made them.”

Nicky opened his, shuddering as he tried not to cry. It was a deep green knitted hat that looked complicated to make and warm. Nicky immediately pulled it on and smiled bigger than Neil had ever seen, except for maybe when Erik knocked on the door.

Neil opened his, it was bright orange with white Foxes and Exy racquets all around it. Neil ran his hand along the knitted fabric. “She made this?” He asked. She made it for him? For him?

“Yeah,” Aaron shrugged.  

And finally Neil and Kevin both exchanged their dumb animal t-shirts that they’d both managed to purchase without the other noticing. 

“You both did such great jobs with literally everyone else, what is this?” Nicky asked. 

“That’s what Kevin looks like,’ Neil said, pointing to the yacking homeless looking cat on the shirt Kevin was holding up. 

“That’s what Neil looks like,” Kevin said at the same time pointing to the brainless sheep without a thought behind its eyes on Neil’s shirt. 

Matt had them both hold up the shirts again so he could take a picture and send it to everyone else. 

On New Years Eve Nicky wanted to go to Times Square. 

“Describe this experience to me?” Neil asked. 

“Everyone goes to Times Square on New Years Eve, there'll be music and fireworks and it’ll be neat!” Nicky said. 

“Everyone? In one of the most densely populated cities in the world will be in one place, with loud noises, tonight?” Neil asked. 

“Yes!” 

“Nicky, I will freak the fuck out. I will freak out so bad you’ll all be so pleased to return to someone well adjusted when I give you back to Andrew.” 

Nicky pouted but then agreed to a far more low-key New Years on the condition that Neil have champagne. 

Randy put the tv on to show the Times Square show and Neil silently patted himself on the back for avoiding that colossal trainwreck. Nicky could go to Rockin’ New Years Eve when Neil was dead and rotting. 

They played poker and maintained conversation that wasn’t awkward or strained or even slightly hostile. Erik was the dealer and they were betting with cookies shaped like trees. 

“Neil, how the hell do you keep winning?” Matt asked. 

Neil kept winning because he learned poker from criminals and how to remain calm under pressure from being tortured by criminals and how to read people from running from criminals. Also he was cheating. But that’s on everyone else for getting up to get snacks so constantly and leaving Neil at the table alone with all the defenseless cards. 

“Matt, sweetie, after you fold could you run down to pick our food?” Randy asked. 

“I’m not folding!” Matt said. 

“Well,” Neil said, because Matt had zero poker face and also Neil had looked at his cards. “You are, but it’s okay. We can trade hands, I’ll go get the food.” He tossed his hand over to Matt, who looked at the cards and then mouthed ‘what the fuck’ to Neil. Probably at the statistically improbable perfect hand Neil had put together for himself when no one was looking.

Neil put on his new coat and asked Randy for the directions to the pizza place again. It was just down the block, there was still an hour until midnight. He could do with a walk, with a little bit of time away from the idiots. And he was feeling magnanimous, almost high off everyone getting along and having a good time. 

The buildings in New York had a way of turning the wind into knives. Of cutting right through the bone, every exhale left a trail of smoke as Neil made his way to the pizza place Matt and his mom were obsessed with. They’d saved “New York Pizza,” for New Years Eve, a huge deal apparently. 

Their time in New York was coming to an end, they’d leave in two days and then they’d pick up Andrew from rehab and time would march on. However much of it Neil had left. 

Neil looked up at the generic looking glowing Pizza sign and pulled the door open. 

The bell above it rung. 

Neil stepped inside, the pizza place distractingly warmer then the streets outside. The lights were dim, no one was behind the counter. 

There was a room off to the left full of people, Neil stepped over to it hoping to catch the eye of whatever asshole worked here so he could pick up the order for Boyd and be on his way. 

Neil looked around the dining room of the Pizza place and several facts and figures fell into irritating alignment. Men in suits everywhere, especially stationed around the walls obviously packing heat. The six men seated around a table with shiny watches, one of whom Neil recognized as a contact from France who nearly got him and his mom killed and one of whom looked too much like Riko to not be his older brother.

There’s a place down the road that mom and I think might be a front for the mob. Matt had said. Matt had said out loud to Neil. Neil had listened, had processed those words and verbally responded and then he had forgotten. Like a fucking moron. I don’t think it’s a mob we know.

Moriyama territory, New York was Moriyama territory, how stupid could they all fucking be. 

“Wesninski,” French dickhead, Simone Breton, said. “You’re still alive?” 

God Fucking Damnit. Neil was having a good night. A great night even. 

The nearest guard grabbed ahold of Neil and shoved him forward. The guard standing behind Breton was too close to be normal, all the tables had plastic covers over the table cloths, there was a carpet on the floor that looked like it should be there, maybe, if the owners were insane and had about thirty backups or a good dry cleaner. The careful distance between Breton and Ichirou, so the little heir wouldn’t get any blood or viscera on his nice clothes. 

“Simone Breton, still double dealing and stealing profits?” He’d bragged about it to Mary before he’d called Nathan and sold them out, all arrogance and no sense. Neil had a road rash scar all along one side because of this asshole. His head was pounding. Neil put up a token struggle and slipped the gun from the guard holding him.

Everyone in the room looked at Breton. “Please as if this unruly child has any idea--” Neil jerked his arm out of the guard's grip and shot Breton in the shoulder. Ten weapons were trained on Neil. Neil raised his hands up, letting the guard behind him take the gun from his grip. 

“You will die for this,” Simone spat out, barely coherent. He passed out, tumbling from his chair. Pathetic pain tolerance.

“Not this,” Neil disagreed. He turned to an unimpressed Ichirou Moriyama. “My apologies, my lord, for jumping the gun, so to speak. He tends to monologue a lot if memory serves really just better to cut him off at the start.” 

“And you presume to know anything? Wayward child?” 

“I presume to string basic facts into an intelligible order, yes.” Neil gestured to the carpet, the tables, the man who had been ready to execute Simone. 

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t kill you right now for your arrogance?” 

“Because I’d die content with a smile on my face, having wasted your precious time and resources to get out of what I’m sure is a long list of torture my father is planning for this fall. Why spoil his fun just to make my death a little better for me.” 

Ichirou waved his hand and all the guns went back to their holsters. “Everyone else leave, tonight went as planned and nothing happened unless I say otherwise, deal with that,” he gestured to Breton. “You sit.” He said to Neil. Everyone else filtered out. 

Neil sat down at the table. It was like his brain had switched off, he really should be terrified but all he could wonder is where the fuck the people who actually worked at the pizzera were. And subsequently where the damned food that Randy had ordered was sitting. 

“Where are you getting all this audacity from?” 

“Considering my father is your father’s bitch, I guess, I get the audacity from my mother.” 

“A bitch that will kill you.” 

“Oh, painfully, slowly, and with all the knowledge of how best to make it hurt. He is good at his job. I really would rather you just shoot me.”

“Where is your mother?” 

“Dead.” 

“And why are you here tonight?” He asked. 

“I’m sure you won’t accept bad luck as an answer, my lord, so let’s go with stupidity.” Neil reaches into his jean pocket and tosses Riko’s SIM card across the table. “You should check in on your brother’s keepers; he's getting a little unruly. Leaving trails left and right that will ruin everything your father’s built before you can inherit it.” 

“There’s that audacity again,” Ichirou looked at the SIM card. 

“Yeah, well, my mother was a bitch too, she just went freelance.” 

“You belong in Evermore working off the money you stole.” 

“I’d die in Evermore before I ever made anyone a cent, if you don’t collar Riko, Jean Moreau will die before he can make you anything. If he’s even still functioning right now. Evermore is a pit where investments go to die.” 

“Your father would never accept you living free.” 

“He would never accept me living, is your father about to put a bullet in his head before he removes mine?” Neil wasn’t supposed to exist but Moriyama decree, he knew a losing fight before he swung. 

“What do you even think you have to offer here?” 

“Friendly advice from beyond the grave,” dying would put one hell of a damper on New Years. “And directions to half a million dollars.” His binder was in his bag at Randy’s, but Ichirou didn’t know that or need to.

“Money you stole.” 

“Money my mother stole, or what’s left of it I guess. One could make the argument that I’m precisely where your family wants me, on the court.” 

“You are nothing, no one that I would ever deign to listen to. Untested and unworthy.” 

“And yet here we both are,” Neil spread his hands magnanimously. “Because I could be a huge pain in your ass or I could play Exy until my father kills me. And I shot the annoying french man who was stealing from you.” 

“Until your father kills you, so you're not here to beg for your life?” How many times do they have to go over this? 

“Neither of us have any say in my death, let’s not be delusional.” Even if he could convince Ichirou to convince Kengo, nothing short of the grave would stop Nathan. “I am here because the way Tetsuji and Riko run Evermore is going to cause a public incident. Because Riko has already been careless enough to make threats in public places, make attempts on people's lives, leave money trails with known offenders and criminals. And to come after me by himself. What is Exy to you? My lord, what is it to your father? A convenient cover, a bit of extra money? It’s not worth the fall out the Ravens are setting up right now.” 

Ichirou stared at him, looked down at the SIM card and tilted his head. 

“So, then, why not just clean house?” Ichirou asked. “Be done with the lot of you.”

“What did I say about not being wasteful. If you let Kevin and Jean go they’d never speak a word of any of this, there’d never be proof of anything other than Riko being a sadistic asshole. Riko has ensured that comes out, you and your father have the opportunity to properly disconnect. Cut Riko off, muzzle him, leave behind Exy for what you do best. There are plenty of economical ways to go about this.” 

“Economical, and what of you?” 

“What of me? I’m here right, at your little meeting. I put a bullet in Simone’s shoulder, he keeps his real books in the hollow of his fern by the way, back in his estate in France, it’s the one with the blue flower. I doubt he’s changed it since, that sort of arrogance results in complacency. I’m untested? There.” Neil gestured to the blood still pooled on the carpet. “Unworthy? Sure, but I don’t have to be your problem.” He was threatening the heir to a crime dynasty. He was beating Aaron out for dumbest motherfucker in the world. 

Ichirou stared at him, this whole time Neil couldn’t tell what he was thinking. The man was inscrutable, it was impossible to adjust language to appeal to him. Neil was still expecting for Ichirou to call out to one of his men and have Neil’s brains splattered all over the dining room. 

“You’re insane,” Ichirou said. “Insane, rude, and quite possibly the most idiotic person to ever sit at a table with me.” 

“Give me a little more credit than that, Simone Breton was just sitting here.” Neil was going to die, but he would die doing what he loved. Being a little shit. 

“I’m going to look into this,” Ichirou waved the SIM card through the air. “And in one week a man will be at your door to collect the ‘directions to half a million dollars,’ and possibly kill you.” 

“Do you promise?’ Neil asked. “If you order him to use a gun and aim for my head I’m willing to up the probability.” 

“Leave,” Ichirou commanded, his face finally breaking out of cold stone into incredulous confusion. 

Neil stood up, his knees nearly buckled. His legs weren’t working right, weren’t listening to his brain telling them to fucking move. “You know if anyone’s working here tonight, I was supposed to pick up a couple of pies?” Neil asked. 

“If you don’t leave now, I'm killing your entire team.” 

Neil nodded and jabbed his fist against his thigh to get it in working order. And he left the pizzeria. He couldn’t feel the cold on his face as he left the store and took the long way back to Randy’s apartment. He could make a fifteen minute walk an hour. He wanted to make it three, to ensure he wasn’t followed, but they lived so close, it was more dangerous for Neil to be away longer. 

Still he went into another pizzeria and got whatever they had ready to go. His phone started buzzing in his pocket on the way back but Neil was terrified of what would be on the other side. 

He walked back up to Randy’s apartment and knocked on the door. 

“Dude, what took so long?” Matt asked, stopped, stared at Neil’s face. ‘Okay, what the fuck happened.” 

Neil put the pizza down on the table. It was well past 12:30, he’d missed the ball drop. 

“That isn’t the place we ordered from?” Randy observed. 

“Neil is that, blood on your cheek?” Nicky asked, his voice shaky. 

Neil grabbed Matt by the shoulders. “It was a mob we know,” he told Matt in a dead slightly hysterical voice. “The pizzeria is run by a mob we know.”

[shadowbrightshine]

I have to keep stopping myself from softening my own compliments about my writing ability for this essay. She asked us to talk about our area of excellence.

For me it's writing. Ir always has been. But I don't want to brag but that's the point. To prove how good I am at this

And I am! My mom says "we're Midwestern women, we downplay ourselves."

I'm autistic. I downplayed myself to survive school.

It's hard to be confident but writing is the only thing I can 100 say I'm good at and be confident in.

I am good at this. I cam always improve.

But that itself is part of being good at it.

I am talented, I'm published in a poetry collection.

[eaterofsoupwrites]

for wittetober day 31 – Ghosts

Words: 1068

don’t b mad i catholicized them 👉👈

“You know the dead can’t hear you, right?”

Caleb frowns but keeps his eyes closed and his hands clasped together.

“Who says I’m trying to talk to the dead?”

Philip rolls his eyes and props his chip up with his palm, resting the weight of his arm and head on the back of his chair. His other hand idly pokes at and smooths over the well-worn wood as he rocks in boredom, back occasionally bumping against their desk behind him. He’d been using Caleb’s light to sneak some reading in before he realized Philip was up past his bedtime, but the lack of reprimand after so long a time concerned him into pausing until he’d put the pieces together—candles burned late into the night, the ever creeping frost outside of their home, and a prolonged prayer from an often imprudent follower of Christ.

“‘M not stupid, Caleb. I know it’s that time of year.”

Caleb’s lips twitch even further down.

“I’m just trying to do the Lord’s prayer. Stop interrupting me!”

“Y’know it’s selfish to try to talk to them, right? They’re with God—you’re only distracting them from their purpose. Whatever you’re trying to say isn’t worth it. Do you think anything you do could compare to God’s eternal love? They’re dead, Caleb. They don’t care about us anymore.”

Caleb finally breaks his prayer to scowl at Philip. 

“What are you being so mean for? And sit in your chair properly!”

Philip puts his hands up in surrender, but does not correct his sitting position. How he sits isn’t a sin, after all.

“I’m just trying to save you the energy. Maybe you should go to bed so you’re better rested for tomorrow’s work. If you make enough money then you can pay a monk to pray them out of purgatory for you.”

That maddens Caleb to spit. Part of Philip feels warm from the attention as his brother yells.

“That’s never made sense to me! How come a priest’s or a monk’s prayer is better than mine? Didn’t God make us all equally– and doesn’t He love us the same? How come I can’t pray someone to Heaven?”

Philip points out the obvious moreso to prolong their argument than to really bring Caleb to any sense, “Well, you can’t dedicate masses to anyone, so. That’s probably it.”

“Why does any of that matter? Why’s– why’s it not enough if I do it? It’s so unfair that God gets to kill them and then keep them, too.”

Philip gasps, though he’s not sure he really cares.

“Caleb, you can’t say things like that! You- you shouldn’t even think them!”

Caleb throws his hands in the air.

“Well I can’t help it! God shouldn’t have made me a sinner if He wanted me not to sin!”

Philip shifts in his chair, glad for the barrier the back of it provides him. Caleb’s ire being directed at God and not Philip is both a good and a bad thing, but Caleb bringing his own human nature into it is no fun. 

“Look, I really don’t want to argue about this.. Just stop trying to bother Mom and Dad, okay? They’re where they’re supposed to be. It’s just you and me—and God—here. That’s enough, right? I’m- We’re enough for you, right? Or are you just too selfish that you need to disturb the dead forever?”

Caleb’s pale face glows red in the dim candlelight, angry perspiration glinting as a drop of it slides down his pulsing forehead.

“What do you know? You’re just a little kid. I’ve– I’ve seen things, okay? Can’t you go one minute without criticizing your older brother? I know lots of things.”

Philip keeps from smiling, but only just. He’ll tease Caleb a little more before bed.

“Yeah, you know a lot of devil things.. Did Evelyn teach you to pray to the dead? Our parents weren’t saints, you know. It isn’t allowed. She doesn’t know anything proper, I think she’s a–”

Caleb interrupts him with a pointed finger. He’s just too easy to fool..

“Don’t talk about my friend like that! Evelyn knows waaay more than you do.”

Philip rolls his eyes, “Sure she does.”

Caleb is quiet for a moment—his body goes quiet too, caving in on itself as he bites a knuckle and thinks, eyes staring through Philip rather than at him. It irritates him for every excruciating second his brother tries to think of what to say. Finally, his eyes refocus, losing their prior heat and instead turning… shy? What does his brother have to be shy about with him?

“Look, don’t tell anyone but me and Evelyn.. we saw a ghost.”

Philip scoffs. Oh, of course it’s something stupid.

“Yeah right, it was a trick of the light. Ghosts aren’t real.”

“You weren’t there. She took me somewhere she said it’d happened to her before—and there was this purple stone it came out of, and it spoke a little and it was like– like.. magic.”

Philip snorts, then yawns.

“What, is she a witch? I think maybe you had some bad milk before bed.”

Caleb frowns.

“I know what I saw. You’ll find out one day and you’ll eat your words, Philip, you really will.”

“Yeah, yeah. Ghosts are real and I’m wrong. What kind of a world is that.. Come on, I’m actually tired now, let’s put out the candle.”

Caleb nods, face hard as he comes out of his kneeling position to collect Philip and the candle. Despite their argument, Philip can’t help but giggle as he’s picked up, smiling wide since he knows Caleb won’t see. One day he thinks he might get bigger than his brother and they won’t be able to sleep in the same bed anymore. Caleb must hear him, because his grip softens and he lays Philip down rather than dump him as he might otherwise do when he’s angry.

A cold gust rattles the old house. Philip snuggles closer to Caleb—they’re saving the firewood for the real winter winds. If Evelyn had abducted his brother on a night like this, Philip could forgive them for hearing voices in the shifting leaves. 

Caleb holds Philip in the dark, whispering his final question like a cool breeze of his own:

“Do you really not miss Mom and Dad?”

Philip sighs.

“I don’t really remember them… Besides, what do I need ghosts for when I have you?”

[my-castles-crumbling]

hi Cas!

uh so ive always been a stem girl but next year we have our country's equivalent of the GCSEs and im a freshman right but my grades in almost every stem subject sucks rn like they're at an all time low, as in i have a 77 in physics in my report card and in my country anything less than a 95 is basically shit and i had plans to change schools in eleventh grade but my current report card isnt remotely close to what it should've been and the thing is im not bad at stem, like if i practiced or studied it regularly id probably be doing a lot better but yeah that didn't happen and the fact still remains that im a natural at humanities as in i study less than a week before the midterms and get more than i did in any stem subject? my best friend thinks i should probably consider a career in humanities bc im better at it but ive always wanted a career in stem, like, ever since third grade and everyone knows that i want(ed) to work at NASA but rn i dont really think i stand any chance of getting into my country's best colleges and that might not be the end of the world but ive always been like yeah im going to go there and it's basically common knowledge at this point

so ever since third grade i have kinda had my life all planned out? like obviously changes have been made but I've always been the one who's known what they wanted to do and i always thought I'd end up in aerospace engineering or at least another stem career but now with my grades im reconsidering and see, my country and family both value stem a lot like most people take up careers in it but my parents arent very restricting but it's always just been assumed that id go into stem too and i just casually mentioned it to my mom about dropping out of stem bc i felt like i couldnt do well in the subjects and later she was joking about it to my father and ik they wouldn't really care but i don't know if i actually want to drop out of stem and the thing is, my best friend's mom was kinda talking to mine about how both her and i arent doing as well despite having the potential (my mom agrees and our families are close enough for that conversation) and my best friend still doesnt know what to do so i was suggesting international relations to her which has always been my in another life career and that got me thinking as well about it just in case this doesnt work out but i have to make a decision by the end of tenth grade bc we get to choose our subjects for our junior and senior years then

im just kinda worried about how everyone will take it but more than that ive always wanted the freedom to move from one country to another without having to retake an exam like you'd have to for law and medical which was why i dropped the idea of doing law and im a very materialistic person, in the sense that i want to be rich like, have a large living space, luxury cars and brands, and most importantly be able to travel the world (which is probably my life goal) and money is just a means to that end and for that i need a good job but i also kinda prioritise my ability to travel when considering careers so i dont want to be tied down by becoming loyal to a particular government

im not even sure if i actually want to do ir instead of aerospace engineering. im just kinda testing the waters rn by doing research but im scared bc it's almost common knowledge that i want(ed) to work for NASA and I've always had my life planned out to the exact college i wanted to go to since third grade and the last i altered it and that too slightly was in seventh grade but this choice is going to affect everything and i dont know if im even going to make it

sorry for the rant, i hope you're having a good day wherever you are

Hi!

Okay so a few thoughts:

First of all, you're allowed to change your mind about what you want to do with your life at any time in your life, but expecially when you're this young. You should do what makes you feel fulfilled and happy, and if someone doesn't support you, that's their problem.

However, I do want to say that whatever you decide, don't just pick something that's easy. Because the thing is, at some point, everything will have rough spots. First decide what will make you happy, then figure out what work you need to do to get there.

I hope that makes sense!

[dragon-appreciator-fray]

Hey.

Willow here.

I'm about to take up a lot of space.

For those of you that don't know us well, hiyas~! 'm the one who picked the name Static Chorus to represent us as a plurality.

Irene and Ire would frame me as the thoughtful one.

I love the big comfy sweaters and crave the unfeeling robot gender. I wouldn't frame myself as the least expressive. But I am definitely the least emotive.

I'm the one responsible for the character Nadir in Weight of Broken Promises: The shadowy mom with neopronouns.

Verity from Ruinous Hearts is... probably also mine.

Of the three of us, I am the one that identified with the nonbinary character in the game that cracked our egg.

I crave being... ill-defined or outright antagonistic.

The moment something starts to feel like a confining box, I want us out of it.

It's taken forever for us to settle on some idealized self perceptions.

But we feel like we're there. It's just I am only really starting to communicate with my headmates and loved ones about what some of that means.

I see myself as a Hell Hound. More scaled than furred. (Can be smooth to the touch if you stroke them one way. I somewhat fondly recall touching snakes to have the best point of comparison.) Dark sclera. Bright eyes. Sharp teeth and claws.

We have always described Ire as the one who keeps us safe. But Ire doesn't see herself as the violent one despite being the only one we trust with violence as a topic. She keeps us functioning in social situations. Ire is who we trust to turn the rest of us off and guide us with a steady head.

I'm the one we really don't trust with external violence. (Irene can speak for herself about the internal stuff.) Anyway... I conceive of myself as an absolutely damned monster.

Not going into the Catholic trauma here.

But I'm someone who took that and learned about my religion out of spite. I made being Christian miserable for everyone around me. My family stopped going to church for literally 80% of my childhood.

I was... unpleasant. Still can be.

To me, Verity was a howling storm of a character who would only ever be able to find peace if she isolated herself from anyone she could hurt.

That is genuinely how I saw myself.

Eventually I realized that the little parts of her that didn't suit her just... weren't me.

If you've had us be sweet and bright and cheery in your DMs, you know how much of a delight Irene can be.

The moment we realized we were trans, I wanted to just... back off. To let her be the one who signs the legal name and be the bright identity we face the world with.

It is an endless relief to know that the part of us that most wants to live could explode into being as wonderful as she is the moment we realized Irene has always been a girl.

But I've kinda gotten bitter about it. I'm the one who kept us going in the depression hoodie forever. I got us this far, but I still kinda delight in existing in context to negative emotions. It's what I know best and most want to explore creatively.

Unfortunately it has become me who, in my most guilty of moments, wants to give up on existing.

We know how much that sucks to hear. We've never wanted to feel smaller or hide more than putting these thoughts into words and share them.

I... genuinely regret telling just one of the people I love this.

And now here I am doing it for everyone.

But I'm the best and most articulated self we have. Gardenia was a cute lil name. Irene can keep it if she wants.

But I want to put Irene Verity Fray down as our full legal name. I wanna live too. As my whole truth.

The Hell Hound has gotta go. But I think I could get used to as being thought of as a Dragon. Means I get to keep the features of my self image I like best.

Anyway. Hi.

For now I'm still Willow.

Nice to meet you.

Maybe one day I'll go by Verity proper.

But I'm just not there yet.

I've got a lot of unpleasant things to work through first.

I think Depths of Promises Sworn is going to become the place for that. But that will mean guiding that story into far more traumatizing and upsetting content than we ever wanted for it.

It means introducing an unpleasant and ungrateful character who still receives the love and affection most of the cast will not think they deserve.

But I got it.

And I'm turning out to be a bright spot in the lives of an alarming amount of ppeople.

So you're stuck with me.

Just know that if you ever want to put down Depths of Promises Sworn, I don't blame you. I certainly wish I didn't have to live through so much of what I have.

But I just can't envision ourselves writing froofy and safe trans content.

We want it slow and messy. Full of backsliding and doubt. I want to trans the monsters or the girls into monsters.

I'm not gonna pull my punches on account of Irene anymore unless she asks me to.

I'm gonna strive to push this system to live its unapologetic truth. All of the good and all of the bad. For whatever that framing is worth.

Probably gonna start by pushing out out of bed when we wake up to go clothes shopping.

It's too hot for us to be running around in pants at work.

There is nothing redeeming about suffering. I will fucking cut that Catholic nonsense out of you if you disagree with me.

[anachronistic-falsehood]

EPISODE 14 TRIVIA:

- the reason vyncent wanted to eavesdrop so badly is because condi got REALLY PARANOID ABOUT WAVELENGTH

- "hey also? the fact that he can erase memories apparently is SO BAD" "you know what i dont even think ashe knew he could do that so now hes gonna be questioning his WHOLE LIFE"

- that day dakota was so distracted thinking about doug that grizzly kept saying no to perception checks- those checks were to notice summer! she was following him all that day :]

- yakko: my theory for the end of prime defenders is vyncent at home with his family so peaceful and happy and then two men in suits show up and say "we're here to collect" and its the IRS coming to arrest him for all of his unpaid credit card debt

- yakko: yknow bizly asked me one day "hey do you wanna join our fun campaign about teenagers with super powers going to high school" and now im in it and just horrible things are happening to these characters wtf man

- re: the convo with tide: hey why does the guy whos supposed to know whats going on *not* know whats going on? why doesnt he know where the prime force is?

- dakota telling le frog he had a dream about him was actually a reference to the first what if episode where they got trapped on harttowa island and turned into animals (le frog was. an actual frog)

- le frog was put in this episode to point out the stark contrast between mal and the other villains theyve faced so far (and its REALLY FUNNY that he thinks hes their greatest nemesis)

- and then they went on like a 5 minute conversation joking about "influencer le frog"

- condi wants to go scuba diving in the dead zone. im only including this because thats such a mecore thing to say. i also want to do that

- one of their prevailing theories is that the reason wavelength was being so suspicious about talking to ashe (mentioning recording and keeping an eye on things etc etc) is because they think his mom is dead and they want to find her in the spirit world to bring her back . to which bizly starts talking about spirit world mechanics "once a person dies, their spirit leaves their physical body. if theres no physical body i dont think you can actually

-> "oh, like in fullmetal alchemist" "okay the ONE LESSON in fullmetal alchemist is that they SHOULDNT BRING THEIR MOM BACK"

oh my god i didn't even think about what ashe would think of his dad being able to erase memories. yeah ofc you would start second guessing ur entire life. holy shit

I LOVE LE FROG. I LOVE HIM SO MUCH. THE VILLAIN OF ALL TIME ACTUALLY. FUCK EVERYONE ELSE I WANT FORTY EPISODES OF THE PRIME DEFENDERS FIGHTING LE FROG. I WANT MORE LE FROG CAN WE HAVE MORE LE FROG

[pettyrevenge-base]

Treat Your Employee Like Crap? OK, I'll Hire Her...

My bookkeeper reminded me of this now that she's retiring, I'd forgot how she came to work for us... She's been our 'Mother Hen' and office fixture so long I forgot...

Close to 25 years ago, I was estimating and quoting a metal working job, factory expansion job, about 100 miles from my home/shop.

The owner was berating a fairly young bookkeeper about how a computer glitch was her fault, and using completely inappropriate language.

When we went to the job site, he explained how she 'ONLY' had a local collage degree in bookkeeping & business, and if he didn't keep her on the back foot she would want a raise & benefits, and mentioned she had to keep the job because she was a single mother.

We cut steel, installed it, so I saw this girl cry, work through lunch, be the last one to leave her department, etc.

I talked it over with my then girlfriend (now wife) about poaching this trained girl since we desperately needed a resident bookkeeper/comptroller... Like needed one 5 years ago... But if I did it would burn bridges with a customer.

Don't think I did anything that wasn't goal oriented for me/my business, we had SERIOUS issues with taxes/compliance at the time...

My girlfriend went to the job site with me, sit with this girl (young lady) and slipped her a business card not knowing if she would want to move from a city to the country... Etc.

She had worked there 5 years, got no raises or benefits in 5 years, desperately wanted another job, but knew the boss/owner would kill her job reference since she saw him do it before.

My wife rented her a little place for cheap, she started with us, and untangled the last 3 years of mess in about 3 months, for the first time ever the monthy reports were on time and the tax paperwork was done on time...

Even managed to talk the IRS/state revenue out of most of the fines/penalties.

She QUICKLY became "My Girl Friday" since she killed problems in minutes that had plagued me for years... (actual education AND experience, along with being sharp as a tack)

She met her husband here, had her wedding lakeside here, they built a house here, had two more kids here, and spent 25 years working here (High-Grand poo-bah of the office! Killer of paperwork dragons!).

She and my wife have become great friends since they both lived 'City' lives at one point and we are all country folks.

Although I kept a professional distance, so I was quite surprised when she broke down in tears at her retirement get-together saying she owed her entire life to us...

Well, no she doesn't, I was more than willing to throw money at the paperwork monsters to get the tax/compliance people off my ass!, She saved the company!

MODEL Employee, Wonderful Wife, Great Mom, and all around good person.

She doesn't 'Owe' us anything, she EARNED everything she worked HARD to get it. It's my good fortune to have been in the right place at the right time, and the right time in her life. I'm sure with her intellegence, willingness to work and learn she would have done well once she got away from that A-hole...

The Revenge.

I knew the customer I poached her from got into all kinds of tax, employee pay, and state/federal regulation problems about 6 months after she left... But I just found out when working with the state/federal tax people she leaked about his shady dealings, when we dealt with labor relations people she leaked about his shady dealings, and so on... She knew EXACTLY where to point the investigators and they didn't disappoint...

I've seen her use the innocent, "My LAST employer did this this way" or "My boss is going to be VERY ANGRY I messed this up" when talking the people out of fines or penalties from back when she didn't even work here! So thinking about it I know how she worked it into conversation without actually 'Snitching'... and they ran off, foaming at the mouth and left us alone... Sly girl! But OUR sly girl!

He lost the company inside of 18 months of her being here, it's still there and producing, just under entirely new owners & managment.

Don't screw with the people cooking your books!

She, by the way, got us through every audit from everybody/agency. Even a super audit from the IRS about 7 years ago and got complemented from the auditors about how organized and efficient she was, and how pleasant she was to work with.

She said it was 'Easy' when we followed the rules (you know, the rules I didn't know about or understand). My eyes bulge at the mention of Taxes & Easy in the same sentence...

Source: reddit.com/r/pettyrevenge

[bishiglomper]

Well I slept TERRIBLY lmao it barely felt like I was just dozing and at some point I had a nightmare. And then I got up 2.5 hours earlier than I had to. But that's aright because I've been busy the whole 2.5 hours.

The thing I could have gone without though is mom's mini breakdown.

She cried at me a few times, did a whole "if I die soon, this is what you need to do-"

We thought the IRS froze our account and it would be settled the first--

Turns out it was NOT the IRS, it was a collection agency that tried to fuck us over a few years ago. But because we don't actually have any wages for them to garnish, they couldn't do anything. All our money is government checks.

I guess they tried again without even bothering to tell us and the bank was fucking stupid and didn't see that our deposits were government. So they let them freeze it. Which means they did that illegally. But it's the weekend so we can't so anything about it until a few days.

Everything is just really stressful

Btw, we have a baby in uhhhh 26 days now? The house is horrible, that's enough to have us all manic but BABY. And now frozen bank account. Le SIGH

I don't count as an adult, I have no adult responsibilities. Forwich I'm greatful because this weekend alone is enough to want me to self medicate.

[maria021015]

“Xander!” Zaida threw open the front door of the apartment and didn’t bother to lock it behind her as she burst in like a tornado, her boots thudding heavily against the floorboards. She found him sitting on the living room couch, his leg bouncing impatiently as he twisted his phone between his hands. “You are not going to believe what I found out!”

“Do me a favour and look outside the window Zaida,” He responded, his voice cold and dangerously quiet. “What do you see?”

Zaida’s smile faded, the only sound filling her ears was the drumming of her own heart and ragged sounds of her laboured breathing from her hurried trek home. "What do you mean?”

“What do you see?” He repeated, not moving from his spot, but at least his knee had stopped bouncing.

“I can’t see shit, it’s dark out.” She frowned. What was going on?

“Exactly, Zaida. It’s dark out. How many times have I told you that I don’t want you out in the dark? That you are to walk straight home after school?” Xander’s words were controlled, but sharp. His tone was a smooth surface, but seething anger bubbled beneath.

“I-” she stumbled over her words, taken aback by the waves of searing rage that rolled off him. “I forgot.”

“You forgot?” Only now did he turn his head to look at her.

“I- I’m sorry, okay? I just…it was for a good reason. I had a lead. I-I found something huge!” Zaida dumped her backpack on the floor by the coffee table.

“You had a lead ? Are you even listening to yourself?” He scoffed. “You’re a teenager. It’s not your job to go off chasing ‘leads’. It’s not your job to be getting involved in any of this!”

“You’re the one who's not listening!” She snapped back, her volume rising along with her built-up frustrations. “You never listen! I’ve been telling you for years that I know what I saw that day. I saw it again at that bus. At the video store. I knew that whatever did that - whatever killed Mom and Dad - was not a mountain lion!”

“Stop it, Zaida,” Xander warned, his fists clenching.

“I was right.” She ignored him, pressing the issue further. “I went to Lydia’s and I saw what did it. She had a video on her phone, from last night.”

“I said stop it.” His voice shook with barely concealed fury, nostrils flaring. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It wasn’t a mountain lion, Xander!” She threw her arms up in the air, her own ire sparking. “It was a wolf !”

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” His voice boomed and he jumped to his feet faster than she’d ever seen him move. He was inches away from her face, jaw muscles clenching as his teeth ground together. “I don’t want to hear another word about any of this.”

The girl’s heart seized, tears welling in her wide eyes. She had never seen her brother like this before. For a split second, she thought she saw a flash of fear in his face, but it was swiftly replaced by that burning anger.

“You don’t believe me?” The realisation hit her like a punch to the gut. “I got proof and you still don’t believe me?”

“Where’s your proof then?” He took a step back, his body language demanding she come forward with it. “Show me.”

“I-I don’t have it anymore. It got deleted, but I saw it!” she defended. “It was huge, and black, and its eyes practically glowed red!”

“What you saw, was probably a clip from a movie.” Xander took deep breaths, trying to de-escalate the situation. “There are no wolves in California. There haven’t been for almost a hundred years.”

“I know what I saw!” Zaida insisted, still in disbelief that he was acting like this.

“When are you going to figure out that it’s all in your messed up head, Zaida!” He pointed a finger at her, tapping it against her forehead. Her heart sank at his words and she slapped his hand away from her. How could he? “You’re obsessed with this. It’s not healthy. You can’t be showing up at crime scenes. You can’t be stalking victims and going through their things. You’re seeing things that aren’t there because you’re still holding onto what happened. You’re afraid to let go and forget about it, but they’re not coming back, Zay.”

“You don’t think I know that? I know they aren’t coming back because I’m the one who found them completely torn apart by five-fingered slashes.” She shook her head, tears finally falling. “I don’t need to forget anything. It’s you who needs to remember .”

With her final words, she turned her back on him and stormed out of the living area, slamming her bedroom door behind her so hard that the frame shook. Her chest shook with sobs as she collapsed onto her bed. It was all in her messed-up head. How could he say that to her? He’d never spoken to her like that before. Not even once.

[biblioflyer]

Being a red shirt on the info literacy and empathy front lines.

This is a bit of a meta post and by "going there" I'm really just trying to generate more of the sort of "you are seen" genre for whomever it has meaning. If it has a whiff of "look at me, I'm an ally, I'm helping by yelling into the void" then I don't know really know what to tell you, maybe it is and if it is, feel free to keep on scrolling, I am not consciously demanding your affirmation, just rambling about the role of sci-fi in my life in getting me to this point ethically and professionally.

I am a red state millennial librarian. Don't feel as sorry for me as you might reflexively think I want you to. I'm not a public librarian or a public school librarian, I'm an academic librarian. Moms for Liberty hasn't directed its Eye of Sauron at us (yet.) Thus we're able to keep stocking LGBTQ literature without too much worry of people screaming at us. For now at least.

Why does this matter?

Well through a little loophole we are officially an academic library that provides services to young adults and the public in addition to formal college students without being a public or school library. I'm reluctant to share too many biographical details, but suffice to say you might be surprised at what is part of your nearest academic library collection and it may be easier than you think to access that collection.

Individual institutions are going to have their own policies, however because we are part of a broader consortium that all shares resources, we offer reciprocal services to every member of that consortium and their patrons if those patrons come to us with a valid library card from one of the member counties or a peer institution.

So if your public library has been gutted, take a peak at local colleges. They are more likely than you think to have queer literature, including queer and diverse literature in the YA genre, as well as inclusive children's books even picture books. College libraries know many of their students are either parents or are intending to go into public education (god help them) and thus have some very infrequently utilized special collections that they would love to see circulate so they can justify buying more.

This being a nerd blog, let me just speak briefly of the role of sci-fi and fantasy allegories in my development. I could very easily have been one of the people that I fear may come for my job. The people we have done workshops rehearsing how to respond professionally, empathetically, but also forcefully to formal challenges to what's on our shelves and informal challenges - i.e. people intent on making spectacles.

I don't say that I "fear" these people lightly, our head of DEI initiatives was sacked after the program was expected (and ultimately) was defunded. This person was not offered a job in a different department. I'm not super in touch with what goes on outside my department but I'm told that this person was broadly respected and other than their job title, was never involved in anything controversial or had any interpersonal disputes.

So we who are heteronormative don't get the luxury of putting our heads down and assuming this will blow over. We can't actually know with any certainty how many degrees of separation are between us and the ire of the Christian Nationalist fever that has swept the nation.

Anywho, Handmaid's Tale isn't exactly the sci-fi I meant to talk about (although boy howdy did it scare the bejeezus out of me the first time I listened to it and that was - I think - pre-2016.)

I grew up in a very rural area with minimal diversity. My exposure to diversity and later queer representation was almost entirely through media. Star Trek was a big one, but also Roseanne which ironically makes the comedian's red pilling more heart breaking than JK Rowling - its a xenniel thing, I was in my edgy ironic full of myself no time for childish things teenage years when Harry Potter came out.

I'm sitting here in 2023, and I can see the absurd falseness of the rhetoric of grooming discourse. Riker's fling with an androgynous alien or Jadzia Dax's open pansexuality didn't make me queer. It de-stigmatized being queer and left me open to taking seriously the self expressed experiences of people who I was open to befriending. As an adult, while I've found Discovery to be frustrating in many ways, one of the things that keeps me coming back is Culber and Stamets. Their performances and arcs have been a consistently solid part of an otherwise very messy production.

Much as Culber and Stamets are simply decent human beings just trying to get by and overcome crisis after crisis, so too are the queer people I've befriend. Their sinister agenda is to walk in public with their partner without people walking between them not thinking they're actually together or being harassed. Some of them are parents of developmentally well adjusted children.

I'm not looking for ally virtue signal points by praising these storylines, I'm just recognizing them for what they are: pieces of my development as a person. Which makes me happy to be in a place in my life where if nothing else, for now I get to make available a wide variety of experiences and perspectives for people to be exposed to. Its not my job to force anything on anyone and I order plenty of straight forward murder mysteries, romances, and swashbuckling epics that don't require a lot of critical thinking, but I like knowing that something I placed on the shelf might make someone accept themselves or accept someone else.