#Isaac Newton you can go die again. fuck you.

[bucklavaa]

My friend:- Are you okay?

Me (lying face down on the floor on my calculus 3 notebook) :- Isaac Newton died a virgin but he’s fucking me from the grave with his dildo of calculus.

My friend:- *slowly backs out of the room*

[bluepuppethidinginafilingcabinet]

here we go again y’all

guess what guys it’s time for another episode of puppet history and my good student note taking.

right off the bat. chains on the box. yelling about said box. suspicious box.

also i have a feeling that brian david gilbert being here to win isn’t gonna end well for him. sad.

shade being thrown at new york

i love a good defenestration

charles university is in fact a boring name.

i feel like the professor being so chill about ryan calling him a douchebag was odd

i would hate to be found dead in my bathrobe

yeet out the window indeed

yes ryan we do have a word for throwing people out windows

example window scares me

why’d the professor seem a little distraught about the idea of being thrown out the window. i feel like normally he’d just threaten right back. this is odd. i might just be paranoid.

classic too many popes problem

no i do not know the name of the most important czech religious reformer of the 15th century.

welp none of those options seem more obvious than the others

why are they making the professors head larger and larger. i’m scared.

i do think that this guy has some really good point

that was a good chip joke. 12/10

“oh, yeah you murdered someone, well pay me 50 bucks and you can still go to heaven” is the same energy as “oh, you murdered someone? you got 40 bucks?” from the keddie cabin episode of unsolved

so true ryan bergara. you did not successfully murder anyone. or have you?

i don’t think jesus wanted people to die martyrs.

i love a good ritz cracker

too many jans

so true professor. everyone is exactly as they seem.

i mean showing up to church armed is certainly a choice.

um professor. heh. yeah. that is wild. can’t imagine that happening. at all. nope.

i love just throwing a bunch of people out a window

example window is still scary

thud from behind the theatre. was that supposed to be suspicious or was it just strange.

agreed not enough kicking pits.

honestly ryan as president would not be the worst president the us has had. not by a long shot.

is that the isaac newton puppet???

horse noises horse noises???? that’s not right. also i thought she was also dead????

also did the horses go to limbo when they died? because they were alive. i have so many questions.

the ad was uhhh something else

why defenestration? because why not

i love being drowned impaled and crushed by a wheel

i don’t know what creatively gruesome way i’d want to go. maybe i’ll come back to this.

i suppose being hurled out a window could be embarrassing.

dude being thrown off a church’s steeple would suck so hard

catholic lion brunch sounds like a nice little sunday activity

THEY BEHEADED TWELVE PEOPLE???? THATS SO MUCH WORK

you know maybe defenestration was the only thing they knew

mayor tossed out window? meh.

yeah why would you kill the person then throw them out the window???

oh boy here we go again

ah yeah that hot new sound of broken glass

yeah keep destroying stuff. that’ll end well.

great. good. mock trials.

aw nice upstairs.

ah fuck

i really do not like the example window

taking the hats is rude but also very funny tbh

“we’ll soon see if his mary helps him out” a banger of a line

very impressive to survive that fall.

b for blunder.

OH NO NOT THE BEES AND THE BASKETBALLS. PROFESSOR THATS NOT THE JOKE. PLEASE.

they really fell into literal shit

why did the professor sound weird.

there does seem to be a lot of piles of shit just laying around

almost martyr is in fact a really useless title

yay another war! - said no one ever

i hope this war isn’t 80 years long

oh good it’s not

BUT WHERE IS MY C DOGS BUT DAMMIT

we’re back to bathroom guy

i highly doubt that’s the last defenestration ever

oh boy musical number time

not the window

oh yeah just an angry mob. it’s fine.

really appreciate the emoticons in the lyrics

ryan looks concerned in a different way than usual

banger as per usual shane, congrats.

oh oh boy oh no

THE ALGORITHM ACTUALLY EXISTS???????

also the professor be glitching

lmao not the soaring performance

the professor out here ignoring the algorithm

oh boy it’s the puppet crème again. it scares me. especially the spelling crème like that

ryan lost the auction against connie huh? fucking connie.

the professor’s little head tilting

also he’s failing to lie so hard

oh yay i love the weird little voice change. not uncomfy at all.

aw ryan drives him home

uh huh normal work. sure.

why are there jelly beans all over the fucking floor of the theatre

love a staring contest with the moon

oooo not the flashback

okay egg. egg hatching.

shane what are you up to. what’s going on. i have so many questions.

[thespamman24]

Some people say that brevity is the soul of wit, but to that I say:

You are wrong, you are extremely wrong, you’re so wrong if you were any more wrong the universe would explode with how wrong you are, I have never seen someone be any more wrong in my entire life. If I had a nickel for how wrong this was I would have an infinite amount of nickels because the wrongness of that extraordinary dumb statement is inifnite. I have spent over 16 years on this hellscape of a planet, and in all of that time I have not once heard something, so wrong, so dumb, so extremely removed from reality. The wrongness of the statement that you have said is at such an extreme level it boggles the mind. You’re so wrong I don’t even know what to do. That statement that you have just said, literally every single letter of every single word in it is wrong. And I used the word literally correctly. That is because I am a person who is correct as opposed to you, a person who is wrong. Capital W-R-O-N-M-J wrong. I mean, I didn’t even know a person could be that wrong. Like 100% of what you just said is wrong. Like, I mean for someone to think that is right, that must mean that they have an IQ below zero. You have an IQ below zero. Because you have said this dumb-ass, idiotic, rediculouse, insane, idiotic, putrid, idiotic, rediculouse, idiotic, idiotic, WRO-ONG, statement. I mean like, what is in your brain? Is it just a bunch of lukewarm water that just sloshes around? Is that what goes on in your brain? Is it just slosh, slosh, slosh, slosh, slosh all day? Just a bunch of lukewarm going sloshity, sloshity, slosh. I mean like, that’s the only logical explanation because what you have said is so goddamn wrong! I mean, like what school did you go to? The Isaac Newton school of being WRONG! Because you are so wrong! I mean, do you even have thoughts?!!?!?!? Or is it just the lukewarm water in your brain going spilishity slapishity sploshity all day long? HUUUUUUUUUuuuuUUUUHHHhhhhhHHH??????  You disgust me, you know that. Because you’re just sto wrong. You know, wrongness doesn’t usually actually piss me off. But this, but this, but this, but this, oh boy, oh boy, old buddy, old boy, does this piss me off! This pisses me right the f*** off!!!!!!!! You are just so gosh dam wrong!!!! What you have said is astronomically wrong! The wrongness of it is off the charts! Off the chains! Over 9000! Numbers can not calculate how wrong you are, there are no words in the english language which I can use to articulate, how wrong you are! I mean just the pure rotten, rotten, festid, rotten wrongness if the claim that you have just made to me- is disgusting. Just disgusting. I hope you die in a hole, you dumb little dumb little big dumb wrong slut!!!!!!! You are so wrong, that just reading that claim that you have just made makes my brain hurt. My brain cells are slowly dying one by one. You have killed them!! Killed them!!!! WIth your filthy, putrid wrongness!!!!! You sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, wrong bastard of a wrong person. Your wrongness has given me a migraine and I don’t think that it’ll ever end, I think I’ve been cursed, cursed to forever bear the shame of your wrongness, because you are just so wrong!!!!!!!!!!!!! I mean, I don’t think the human brain can even fathom how wrong you are. Maybe, your statement is just so wrong, that the human brain can’t even comprehend. Maybe it’s one of those things, like infinity, or quantum physics, or the plot of Lost, where our brains just can;t understand it because it’s just so fucking wrooooooooooooooooooooooooonnnnnnnggggggggggggggggggg!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WRONG! SO FCKING WROOOOOOONGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!

god, oh god, oh god why, why must you do this to me, you- you’ve hurt me. I can’t stand it any more… just this… this… wrong… it’s just so wrong… so wrong… so wrong. How can you be so stupid. Your statement is dumb, your logic is dumb, your reasoning is dumb. I hope you never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever give birth!!!!! I… I don’t think I… I even want to live anymore… how can I even exist… on a planet where such wrongness… also exists...how, how, how, how, HHHHHHOOOOOWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!! WHY OH WHY GOD WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY!!!!!!!!! YOU ARE WRONG!!!! YOU ARE WRONG!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU ARE WRONG!!!!!!!!! WRONG!!!!!!! YOU WILL, AND ALWAYS SHALL BE SO, FRICKING WRONG!!!!!!!! Your wrongness, the magnitude of it, it, it, it just astounds me. Nothing, anybody ever says, will be so WRONG AS THE WORDS THAT YOU HAVE SAID TO ME!!!!!!!! YOU DUMB LITTLE POOR EXCUSE FOR A HUMAN BEING!!!!!!!!!! I HATE YOU!!!!!! I HATE YOU!!!!!!!!! I DON’T LIKE YOU!!!!!!!!!! I HATE YOU!!!!!!!!!! I’M NOT INVITING YOU TO MY BIRTHDAY PARTY!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU’LL NEVER HAVE ANY PIECES OF MY BIRTHDAY CAKE!!!!!!!!!!!! IT’S MINE! ALLLLL MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MWA, HA, HA,HA,HA,HA,Ha,Ha…. Ha… ha… ha… ha… ha. Oooohhh… woe is me. For I have been cursed with this wrongness. You know Shakespeare once said, “When we are born we weep, for we have come to this great world of fools.” You know, Shakespeare, he was gay, but he was also right… and today… I weep… I weep a thousand tears for this wrongness that has befell my eyes and blinded them, oh god I wish I could stick a hand into my brain and remove this filth and pestilence that infects it like a disease. Your words poison the air they are spoken into!!!!!!!!! The pits of hell themselves don’t even know such agony as the pits of despair I am currently drowning in!!!!!!!! I hope to never see the sunlight again, because if I do it would give me a sunburn! I hope aliens never see what you have just written because if they do, will, then they would, they would they would burn our planet to the crisp and then salt the earth so that nothing ever, ever, ever, ever grows again and then they incinerate our planet to the core!!!! And then they would flush it down a toilet that is big enough to fit the earth in!!!!!! You are wrong… so wrong. You are in fact, one hundred percent wrong. It honestly makes me sick. Just how wrong you are. I could on and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on about how gosh damn wrong you are but I won’t because it would take a thousand lifetimes to do so and I need to feed my cat!!! DO YOU HEAR ME!!!!!!!!! MY CAT!!!!!!!!!! SHE IS A GOOD, GOOD,GOOD, KITTY AND SHE IS SMARTER THAN YOU CAN EVER HOPE TO BE!!!!!!!! BECAUSE EVEN SHE, AGREES WITH ME THAT YOU ARE WRONG HELL, EVEN A POTATOE CAN SEE WHY YOU ARE WRONG!!!!!!!!!! EVEN A POTATOE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A POPTATO, A POTATO, A POTATO, A POTATO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU ARE DUMBER THAN A POTATO, BECAUSE YOU ARE SO, SO,SO,SO,SO,SO,SO,SO, FUCKING WRONG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WRONG!!!!!!!!!!!! WRONG!!!!!!!!!! WRONG!!!!!!!!!!! YOU ARE WRONG!!!!!!!!!!!! INCORRECT!!!!!!!!!! UNTRUE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MISTAKES!!!!!!!!!! ERRONEOUS!!!!!!!!!! UNTRUE!!!!!!!!!!! INACCURATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! INVALID!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FALLICIOUSE!!!!!!!!!!!!! FALSE!!!!!!!! WIDE OF THE MARK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … my life is but a nightmare. A dream which I can not wake up from. I am trapped, trapped in this prison known as the universe, a prison of which I can not escape, my memories are like chains binding me down, preventing me from, moving, from running, from trying to break free!!!!!!! All I can do is scream at the top of my lungs about how wrong you are… but I won’t because I’ve already done that and my voice is very tired and I don’t want to get laryngitis, because herbal tea is surprisingly expensive… I think I’ll go feed my cat now.

[mersuperwholocked-lowlife]

Prompt List

So, I decided to make an official prompt list. So, when I open requests, you can use a prompt from here, or just send me whatever you want. You can check out what I write before

1). “This is who I am, I know I’m a monster but I can’t change who I am.”

2.) “What’s a motto?” “I don’t know what’s the motto with you.”

3.) “How many fucking times do you think I’m going to let myself go through this again?”

4.) “Do you know what it’s like to go to bed every day to escape your demons only to find new ones haunting you?” 

5.) “Dude, that was crazy! I didn’t think that would work.” “Me neither.”

6.) “Are you sure I can’t punch him in the face?” “Yes“ “Damn it.”

7.) ”I don’t need your forgiveness, and I’m way past asking for your permission”

8.) “It hurts me that you can lie to me so easily. It hurts that you always lie to me. When can I have the truth? Is it too much to ask for?”

9.) “I’ve been telling her not to, it’s not my fault that she’s a prick and can’t do shit when she’s told to.”

10.) “Do you ever think about everything you’ve done in your life? How do you not hate yourself?

11.) “I’m not proud of much, but I’m proud of you.”

12.) “If you’re here, and he’s here, then who the hell is making all that ruckus in my bedroom?”

13.) “Please forgive me.”

14.) “Let her. Let her kill me. Let her hurt me. I deserve it.”

15.) “P-Please hold me.”

16.) “That is false.”

17.) “I-I can’t remember what I did yesterday or what I did today. I-I don’t know where I am.”

18.) “You were supposed to be my friend. You were supposed to be my family.”

19.) “Own up to who you are. Never let anyone shoot you down.”

20.) “As Sir Isaac Newton once said, ‘The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

21.) “I thought dragons came after virgins… so why aren’t they after you?”

22.) “Being insanely smart has its downs.”

23.) “You said you’ll always be there for me. You lied.”

24.) “Yes! I’m a real person! I have real people’s feelings!”

25.)  “It’s us, always and forever.”

26.) “I have to pick between the only people I’ve ever cared about, and whoever I don’t pick dies.”

27.) “Why are you always running away from me? I’m not that bad!” “You’re the devil in a white suit.”

28.) “Can we please stop this? W-We’s always fighting. I-I don’t even know what we’re fighting about.”

29.) “I hope you learned your lesson, next time I won’t be there to save your ass.” “W-What are you talking about? What do you mean you won’t be there?”

30.) “Eres un idiota.” “Did you just call me an idiot in Spanish?” “What?! I would never.”

31.) “But why does this matter? I can guarantee you that I’m never gonna use it.”

32.) “Doesn’t it bother you that we can never be normal?” “Maybe it did. But now, being different is better.” 

33.) “So, if you’re so good with kids, then where the hell is mine?” “That’s not fair.” “It’s your fault.”

34.) “I’m too tired to care.”

35.) “I don’t want to kill you. But I will. Because my family is more important. So again, leave. Now.”

36.) “Danger’s my last name!” “I thought it was (Y/L/N)?”

37.) “I-I can’t find anything of my meds. Not my anti-depressants, not my pain killers, not my anxiety meds. I-I can’t stop shaking.”

38.) “I have to write a 4-page long argumentative essay.” “Well, you are good at arguing.”

39.) “But you tried. That’s what counts. Not everything is a success.”

40.) “Ugh, it’s you again. Didn’t you die last year?” “No, that was fake.”

41.) “Don’t do that!”

42.) “You’re so stupid! I hate you and your stupid little face!”

43.) “What the hell?! You’re supposed to be taking an exam right now! What the hell are you doing here?!”

44.) “Did I stutter?”

 45.) “Let go of my pie. Now.”

46.) “You’re sneaking out, aren’t you?”

47.) “How many times must I tell you? No drinking before dark.

48.) “So, you have a metal arm? That’s exciting.”

49.) “Do you think that I’m gonna leave you? You’re stuck with me, with us forever, no matter how much you hate it.”

50.) “Uhm, am I going crazy, or do you also see that horse?”

51.) “You’re not who I thought you were. You’re better.”

52.) “Are you sure you two aren’t related?”

53.) “There are literal monsters, roaming the streets, and you’re telling me to stay calm?!”

54.) “I know this may be hard for you to believe, but there are ways to solve your problems, without violence.”

55.) “Well, I didn’t expect that.”

56.) “You look like you need a hug, kid. What’s on your mind?”

57.) “Please don’t! She’s a child!” “So what? Many children die every day, why should yours live?”

58.) “I said to blend in! Not dress like you just killed someone!”

59.) “You’re lying.” “That makes two of us

60.)” Well, this is awkward.”

61.) I uh, think I might be pregnant.”

62.) “Do you want me to kill somebody for you?”

63.) “I thought you were dead?” “Yeah, guess I was hell to put up with. Even for Hell.

64.) Prove it to me. Prove to me this world would be better without you. ‘Cuz it won’t. Let me show you how much you mean to me. To us. Just please, get down from there.”

65.) “Let me help you cook before you burn down my house.”

66.) “I’m not scared of you. You’re like a little puppy!”

67.) “I want you to come with me, not anyone else.”

68.) “Do you know each other?”

69.)   “I hate you.” “I know. But you need me.”

70.) “Isn’t it a beautiful day to create some chaos?”

71.) “I’m not drunk enough for this.”

72.) “Welcome to Vampire 101. Don’t get caught by hunters.”

73.) “Please don’t hurt them! They’ve done nothing wrong!”

74.) “I’m doing the best I can! I don’t know how to drive!”

75.) “I heard screaming, are you okay?”

76.) “Hey! Are you telling me I’m bad at my job!”

77.) “I really don’t care.”

78.) “I can’t remember. I wish I could.”

79.) “Watch your language!”

80.) “Hey, I can’t find the scissors, can we use your claws?”

81.) "Minutes. We only have minutes till it's too late.

82.) "Just be careful. I don't want a call at 3 AM from the hospital saying that you died.

83.) "What do you want?! I'm playing Mario Kart!"

84.) "There's a light at the end of the tunnel." "Yeah, it's called hellfire.

85.) "Who gives a rat's ass about Chemistry?!

86.) "Oh my god just your voice makes me wanna die!

87.) "Why the hell is there a 72-inch teddy bear on my bed?

88.) "None of us here have a life, so who the hell is texting you at 10 PM?

89.) "I just want it to end? Can't you just leave me to die?!"

90.) "Okay, he keeps giving me the evil eye."

91.) "I've been stabbed more times than days I've been alive."

92.) "Did you cut your hair?" "No, I got stabbed by a knife."

93.) "Please save me."

94.) "A shady ass mansion and 6 weird ass kids, what could go wrong?"

95.) "Oh my god they are dating! You owe me 5 bucks!"

96.) "No! There's something wrong with me, everyone always leaves me!"

97.) "Why is there a 5-year-old in your hands?"

98.) "Oh yeah, I'm pregnant."

99.) "So, I'm a witch, my dad's a hunter, and my mom's an evil coven leader. Talk about a messed up family."

100.) "You know what they say, the kindest one is the most broken one."

101.) "I've got all the time in the world for you."

102.) "I-I didn't kill him."

103.) "You're covered in blood."

104.) "Took years, but I finally have the courage to say it, I love you. Will you go out with me?"

105.) "Well, I'm never working at this coffee shop again."

106.) "I accidentally drank dish soap."

107.) "He's kinda hot."

108.) "Are you drunk? Again?"

109.) "I can feel myself, fading away."

110.) "Don't stray away from me, I love you."

111.) “It’s a hard life but I had you. And I’d never give up that.”

112.) “Don’t move! One wrong step and you’ll die!”

113.) “You are good enough. Don’t doubt yourself.”

114.) "Do you smell something burning?" "Dude, that's your hair."

115.) "I just feel so numb, a-all the time. S-So fucking numb."

116.) “He saved my life, (name). You keep saying everyone else doesn't forgive him. I know you’re the one who doesn't. Stop acting like you're the high and mighty merciful one. I’m going to find him, and you’re not gonna stop me,”

117.) "I love you, why are you pushing me away?"

118.) "Why is nothing I do good enough for you? Every time you look at me, it's like you're just staring at a steaming pile of disappointment. Why do you always think you're better than me?"

119.) "I-I know you're there. Just please let me out."

120.) "You're gonna kill me? With what, reckless driving?"

121.) I'm listening to you, I have been fucking listen to you!"

122.) "Know that you are good enough,"

123.) "I'm sorry that I was a dick. Just please, don't leave."

[teenwolffan-with-nolife]

Prompt List

Check out What I Write before requesting

1). “This is who I am, I know I’m a monster but I can’t change who I am.”

2.) “What’s a motto?” “I don’t know what’s the motto with you.”

3.) “How many fucking times do you think I’m going to let myself go through this again?”

4.) “Do you know what it’s like to go to bed every day to escape your demons only to find new ones haunting you?” 

5.) “Dude, that was crazy! I didn’t think that would work.” “Me neither.”

6.) “Are you sure I can’t punch him in the face?” “Yes“ “Damn it.”

7.) ”I don’t need your forgiveness, and I’m way past asking for your permission”

8.) “It hurts me that you can lie to me so easily. It hurts that you always lie to me. When can I have the truth? Is it too much to ask for?”

9.) “I’ve been telling her not to, it’s not my fault that she’s a prick and can’t do shit when she’s told to.”

10.) “Do you ever think about everything you’ve done in your life? How do you not hate yourself?

11.) “I’m not proud of much, but I’m proud of you.”

12.) “If you’re here, and he’s here, then who the hell is making all that ruckus in my bedroom?”

13.) “Please forgive me.”

14.) “Let her. Let her kill me. Let her hurt me. I deserve it.”

15.) “P-Please hold me.”

16.) “That is false.”

17.) “I-I can’t remember what I did yesterday or what I did today. I-I don’t know where I am.”

18.) “You were supposed to be my friend. You were supposed to be my family.”

19.) “Own up to who you are. Never let anyone shoot you down.”

20.) “As Sir Isaac Newton once said, ‘The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

21.) “I thought dragons came after virgins… so why aren’t they after you?”

22.) “Being insanely smart has its downs.”

23.) “You said you’ll always be there for me. You lied.”

24.) “Yes! I’m a real person! I have real people’s feelings!”

25.)  “It’s us, always and forever.”

26.) “I have to pick between the only people I’ve ever cared about, and whoever I don’t pick dies.”

27.) “Why are you always running away from me? I’m not that bad!” “You’re the devil in a white suit.”

28.) “Can we please stop this? W-We’re always fighting. I-I don’t even know what we’re fighting about.”

29.) “I hope you learned your lesson, next time I won’t be there to save your ass.” “W-What are you talking about? What do you mean you won’t be there?”

30.) “Eres un idiota.” “Did you just call me an idiot in Spanish?” “What?! I would never.”

31.) “But why does this matter? I can guarantee you that I’m never gonna use it.”

32.) “Doesn’t it bother you that we can never be normal?” “Maybe it did. But now, being different is better.” 

33.) “So, if you’re so good with kids, then where the hell is mine?” “That’s not fair.” “It’s your fault.”

34.) “I’m too tired to care.”

35.) “I don’t want to kill you. But I will. Because my family is more important. So again, leave. Now.”

36.) “Danger’s my last name!” “I thought it was (Y/L/N)?”

37.) “I-I can’t find anything of my meds. Not my anti-depressants, not my pain killers, not my anxiety meds. I-I can’t stop shaking.”

38.) “I have to write a 4-page long argumentative essay.” “Well, you are good at arguing.”

39.) “But you tried. That’s what counts. Not everything is a success.”

40.) “Ugh, it’s you again. Didn’t you die last year?” “No, that was fake.”

41.) “Don’t do that!”

42.) “You’re so stupid! I hate you and your stupid little face!”

43.) “What the hell?! You’re supposed to be taking an exam right now! What the hell are you doing here?!”

44.) “Did I stutter?”

 45.) “Let go of my pie. Now.”

46.) “You’re sneaking out, aren’t you?”

47.) “How many times must I tell you? No drinking before dark.

48.) “So, you have a metal arm? That’s exciting.”

49.) “Do you think that I’m gonna leave you? You’re stuck with me, with us forever, no matter how much you hate it.”

50.) “Uhm, am I going crazy, or do you also see that horse?”

51.) “You’re not who I thought you were. You’re better.”

52.) “Are you sure you two aren’t related?”

53.) “There are literal monsters, roaming the streets, and you’re telling me to stay calm?!”

54.) “I know this may be hard for you to believe, but there are ways to solve your problems, without violence.”

55.) “Well, I didn’t expect that.”

56.) “You look like you need a hug, kid. What’s on your mind?”

57.) “Please don’t! She’s a child!” “So what? Many children die every day, why should yours live?”

58.) “I said to blend in! Not dress like you just killed someone!”

59.) “You’re lying.” “That makes two of us

60.)” Well, this is awkward.”

61.) I uh, think I might be pregnant.”

62.) “Do you want me to kill somebody for you?”

63.) “I thought you were dead?” “Yeah, guess I was hell to put up with. Even for Hell.

64.) Prove it to me. Prove to me this world would be better without you. ‘Cuz it won’t. Let me show you how much you mean to me. To us. Just please, get down from there.”

65.) “Let me help you cook before you burn down my house.”

66.) “I’m not scared of you. You’re like a little puppy!”

67.) “I want you to come with me, not anyone else.”

68.) “Do you know each other?”

69.)   “I hate you.” “I know. But you need me.”

70.) “Isn’t it a beautiful day to create some chaos?”

71.) “I’m not drunk enough for this.”

72.) “Welcome to Vampire 101. Don’t get caught by hunters.”

73.) “Please don’t hurt them! They’ve done nothing wrong!”

74.) “I’m doing the best I can! I don’t know how to drive!”

75.) “I heard screaming, are you okay?”

76.) “Hey! Are you telling me I’m bad at my job!”

77.) “I really don’t care.”

78.) “I can’t remember. I wish I could.”

79.) “Watch your language!”

80.) “Hey, I can’t find the scissors, can we use your claws?”

81.) "Minutes. We only have minutes till it's too late.

82.) "Just be careful. I don't want a call at 3 AM from the hospital saying that you died.

83.) "What do you want?! I'm playing Mario Kart!"

84.) "There's a light at the end of the tunnel." "Yeah, it's called hellfire.

85.) "Who gives a rat's ass about Chemistry?!

86.) "Oh my god just your voice makes me wanna die!

87.) "Why the hell is there a 72-inch teddy bear on my bed?

88.) "None of us here have a life, so who the hell is texting you at 10 PM?

89.) "I just want it to end? Can't you just leave me to die?!"

90.) "Okay, he keeps giving me the evil eye."

91.) "I've been stabbed more times than days I've been alive."

92.) "Did you cut your hair?" "No, I got stabbed by a knife."

93.) "Please save me."

94.) "A shady ass mansion and 6 weird ass kids, what could go wrong?"

95.) "Oh my god they are dating! You owe me 5 bucks!"

96.) "No! There's something wrong with me, everyone always leaves me!"

97.) "Why is there a 5-year-old in your hands?"

98.) "Oh yeah, I'm pregnant."

99.) "So, I'm a witch, my dad's a hunter, and my mom's an evil coven leader. Talk about a messed up family."

100.) "You know what they say, the kindest one is the most broken one."

101.) "I've got all the time in the world for you."

102.) "I-I didn't kill him."

103.) "You're covered in blood."

104.) "Took years, but I finally have the courage to say it, I love you. Will you go out with me?"

105.) "Well, I'm never working at this coffee shop again."

106.) "I accidentally drank dish soap."

107.) "He's kinda hot."

108.) "Are you drunk? Again?"

109.) "I can feel myself, fading away."

110.) "Don't stray away from me, I love you."

111.) “It’s a hard life but I had you. And I’d never give up that.”

112.) “Don’t move! One wrong step and you’ll die!”

113.) “You are good enough. Don’t doubt yourself.”

114.) "Do you smell something burning?" "Dude, that's your hair,"

115.) "I just feel so numb, a-all the time. S-So fucking numb."

116.) “He saved my life, (name). You keep saying everyone else doesn't forgive him. I know you’re the one who doesn't. Stop acting like you're the high and mighty merciful one. I’m going to find him, and you’re not gonna stop me,”

117.) "I love you, why are you pushing me away?"

118.) "Why is nothing I do good enough for you? Every time you look at me, it's like you're just staring at a steaming pile of disappointment. Why do you always think you're better than me?"

119.) "I-I know you're there. Just please let me out."

120.) "You're gonna kill me? With what, reckless driving?"

121.) "I'm listening to you, I have been fucking listening to you!"

122.) "Know that you are good enough."

123.) "I'm sorry that I was a dick. Just please, don't leave."

[ramblinganthropologist]

N7 challenge - 3 and 4 (Cooperation and War)

Summary: Well... that just happened. Genophage cure set, now Alistair’s setting the stage to get the krogan to help out. You know it’s serious when he’s wearing clothes that both fit AND match. Clearly, we need all the help we can get.

---

There were things Alistair liked about the retrofitted Normandy. The war room, however, was not one of them.

That was where he was sitting, staring out the window and waiting. Outside, they were stationary and waiting. Soon, they would be boarded by delegates in an attempt to smooth things out with the salarians after what had happened on Tuchanka.

Apparently, they were a little steamed he hadn't stopped Mordin from ending the genophage. Go figure.

“This is going to be a headache.” He was already massaging his forehead at the thought. It was hard to think about Mordin, too. Someone had gone back for his body, but what they were going to do with it should they find it was beyond him. During his studies, what salarians did with their dead wasn't really covered.

It was probably something quick – live fast, die young and all that. Mordin would probably appreciate that.

“Trying to get the best seat for the meeting?”

Alistair looked up. A familiar face was standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his carapace. Garrus looked a little tired, but that was to be expected. The last week had pretty much been nonstop action on Tuchanka. Now that they were back on the Normandy, it was the first time either of them had really had the chance to catch their breath.

He stood from his spot, smoothing down the front of his shirt. For once, he wasn't dressed down. It had been his idea to wear his formal uniform; it was a move that had shocked most of the Normandy when they found out. Apparently, it was kind of a big deal when the guy who went around in neon blue sneakers and a hoodie with ears dressed the part of a military officer. Once again, go figure.

“I'm the host, so I can move people around if I want.”

Garrus gave him an appreciative eye as he approached. “Pulling out the dress blues to impress the dalatress?”

“Nah, I plan on baffling her into silence so I can actually get a word in edgewise.” Alistair chuckled weakly as he reached out to squeeze the turian's hand. It was pleasantly cool, probably because he hadn't been clutching at a red hot weapon for hours on end. “I think it's a pretty solid plan, don't you?”

His boyfriend chuckled like the giant space chicken he was and nudged him on the cheek with his faceplates – his version of a kiss due to the lack of lips. There was nothing charge behind it, of course – there were too many people around for that. Hell, there was still a chance the primarch would bust in, and where would that get them besides a lot of hot water?

Not that he minded the primarch – he was a pretty decent guy, all things considered. Garrus was still his favorite turian, but he probably ranked about a solid 3, maybe even #2.

“Well, I'll certainly appreciate the view.” Garrus chuckled, but then the sound died as he stared out the window. Beneath the Normandy loomed Tuchanka – there was a large dust storm raging on the planet's surface below. Somewhere down there, the genophage cure was spreading like wildfire. How long, he wondered, until it took effect?

Maybe he should have asked Mordin before... but it had slipped his mind, he supposed. It wasn't like he had expected it all to go down like that.

“You really know how to shake up the galaxy,  Al.”

Alistair chuckled weakly as he squeezed Garrus' talons gently, avoiding the sharp edge thanks to experience. It wouldn't do to get blood all over his uniform just before his guests showed up, though it might have upped his intimidation factor from -2 to a solid 0. Not that he needed it – negotiation was more his forte than beating people up.

If he needed the latter, that's what his XO was for.

“You can say that again, babe.” Still, he sighed. “Though, I better figure out what to say. You know it's going to be cranked to 11 when everyone gets here, and once the krogan pop in that knob's getting ripped off and thrown out the airlock.”

He could practically imagine it floating through space, eventually going to fuck someone's day up just like Sir Isaac Newton intended. After all, he was the deadliest son of a bitch in space and had a reputation to uphold.

Garrus shook his head at that as he nudged him in the side. “I think that metaphor got away from you.”

“Must've climbed over my head, it's the easiest escape route.”

They both shared a chuckle then, but something about it just felt... quiet. It was just too damn quiet in the War Room. Plus it was impossible to forget what had been there only months prior. In a way, maybe it was appropriate they were standing in the remains of Mordin's old lab as they discussed the outcome. Maybe in some small way, he was there with them.

He missed him. He really did. Maybe if he had been a little faster...

“You did what was best for everyone, Al.” Garrus was apparently a mind-reader now as he gently squeezed his hand. “Mordin chose-”

Alistair sighed as he shook his head. “I know... it just never gets any easier.”

He should have been used to losing people by now. After all, he had lost a planet as a child, and then his entire unit as a young marine. Hell, he had died himself once. It shouldn't have bothered him... but it did. There was probably never going to be a moment it didn't bother him.

That was what made him human, most likely.

“Well, at least you'll have something to take your mind off things. Look who just showed up.” Garrus pointed a talon out the window as a ship appeared alongside the Normandy, already beginning the process to link up. “That the salarian ship?”

Alistair squinted as he made out the details. “Doesn't look like it. Maybe they sent someone to tell me to fuck off.”

“Something about you swearing in uniform does terrible things to me. “Garrus let go of his hand as he stepped back. “I'll be here if you need me.”

Duty was calling. Alistair nodded as he stepped away from his boyfriend and left the war room behind. After a scan, it was straight to the airlock. Someone was waiting for him there – it was a salarian, but not the salarian he had been hoping for.

Well... this was going to be a headache.

“Commander Shepard?”

One of them anyway. Alistair resisted the urge to joke and kept his face as neutral as possible as he nodded. People said his skill was reading a room, but really his hidden talent was knowing when to keep his damn mouth shut. It was a highly underrated ability, especially among military officers. Not for him – it had full skill points applied.

The salarian cleared their throat. “The dalatress sent me to remind you of your agreement – which you broke.”

“She couldn't have seriously thought I would go with that, Wrex is one of my closest friends.” Alistair kept his tone neutral. “But, yes. I suppose I did break it by not letting Mordin sabotage the genophage for you.”

Sorry, not sorry.

His guest didn't look amused by this. “You realize this ends the cooperation between Sur'Kesh and Earth, yes?”

Pretty much. Though, personally, he thought the dalatress was being an utter moron. Eventually, the Reapers would be kicking her door down just like they had done to Earth. Without the alliance, who would they have to rely on? Their brains were great, but... they kind of min-maxed there. It wasn't a good look.

But, who was he to tell people what to do during a war? He was just trying to muster a galactic army to save everyone from the Reapers...

“My line will always be open should she change her mind.” He swore he saw a blue number pop up in the corner of his vision as he watched the salarian twitch in front of him. “Is... there a problem?”

“Just the fact he's still standing here breathing.”

A deep, grumbly voice drew Alistair's attention. Probably because he had been busy trying not to tell his guest how he actually felt, he hadn't noticed the fact they weren't alone. Someone else had come up to the Normandy, and now they were in the airlock.

Wrex filled the small space, practically forcing his other guest into the Normandy proper. Apart from a few scratches on his armor and some superficial cuts that were already healing, he looked pretty good. Not bad for someone who went to battle with the Reapers.

Alistair smiled. “Nice to see you, Wrex. You're early.”

“Wanted to get the best seat.” He gave him a once over. “You're wearing clothes that match. That serious then?”

He felt his eyebrow twitch a little, but the smile never left his face. “World's on fire, how 'bout yours?”

“That's the way we like it.” Wrex stepped past the salarian, already heading for the war room. He wouldn't be alone for long – it was something of a conference call. Still, he would have been a shitty host if he left the krogan alone.

He just had to eject the trash out the airlock first...

“I will be taking my leave. It is clear what side you have chosen.” The salarian would've looked down their nose if they had one probably. Instead, they turned on their heel and started going through decontamination. Alistair just shook his head as he watched the messenger leave, taking with him any hope for Sur'Kesh.

Why did he get the feeling he'd have to break his neck to save their asses later? Some days it just didn't pay to be the good guy.

“Still don't regret it.” He shrugged and turned away. Back to the War Room it was. Wrex was waiting for him, and they had a lot to talk about before the actual meeting got underway. He had to focus on that in his mental task of putting one foot in front of the other.

First step – figuring out what the krogan could help with. That was easy enough. Who said planning a galactic war was hard?

[evenshands]

“So, you know how parallel universe might exist?” Isak is drifting off into sleep when Even brings it up, but the subject snaps him back into being awake.

“Might? Is that how you want to start this conversation?”

“Okay, do exist then. What about past lives? Do you believe in them?”

“Like, resurrection and shit?”

“Yeah, or reincarnation.”

“Is there a difference?”

“Yes, idiot,” Even says affectionately. “Resurrection is where you come back to life. Reincarnation is being born again as something new.”

“Oh. Yeah, I knew that.”

“You didn't. But do you believe in that?”

“Uh,” Isak hesitates. “I mean, all your atoms have to go somewhere, right?”

“Yeah,” Even says. “What about souls?”

Isak shrugs. “There's no proof.”

“There's no proof that they don't exist.”

“Guess not.”

There's silence between them for a moment. Isak watches Even across the pillow, and imagines that he can hear his brain working, stretching through the reaches of his imagination.

“What do you think we were? In our past lives?”

Isak considers it. “I like to think I was Einstein.”

“Mmhm, and I was Shakespeare.”

Isak gives a teasing grin. “So there's your next film. Einstein and Shakespeare fall in love. But they can't be together because - because Isaac Newton has cursed them so that every time they kiss, Romeo and Juliet die.”

Even laughs. “Maybe we were Romeo and Juliet in a past life,” he suggests.

“Bit dramatic,” says Isak. “But sure, maybe we were.”

“Or Norse Gods.”

“I call Thor.”

“Okay. As long as you look like Chris Hemsworth.”

Isak makes an offended noise. “Are you saying he's hotter than I am?”

Even doesn't reply straight away, just wiggles his eyebrows.

“Dick,” mutters Isak. “But for the record I’d also prefer it if you looked like him, so I guess we're even.”

Even hums, and strokes a thumb over Isaks cheek. “On second thoughts,” he says slowly. “I don't think I'd want you to look like him. I like you like this. Maybe even love you,” he teases.

Isak can't help the smile and blush that spread across his face. “Fucking loser,” he says, burying his face into the pillow. “I love you too,” he says, voice muffled by the pillow.

Even smiles.“Are you telling me, or the pillow?”

[inactiive-shit]

A Hero’s Death

A Hero's Death

This is a Sander's Sides fanfiction! It's...heavy, so watch out. The writing isn't stellar or anything, but it's pretty decent.

Words: 3,013

TW: death, battle, loss, swearing, unhappy ending (this whole thing is just really bad, so seriously, be careful when reading.)

Pairings: implied/pre-established romantic and qp LAMP (it's a strange mix and not really expanded upon,) focuses on romantic Moxiety.

Message me or send an ask with any other tws or tags or anything I need!

That's all I guess. Here we go:

The bridge had collapsed.

Or, was collapsing?

Patton didn't know which term would be more correct-phrasing and language was far more Logan's area of expertise, and right now Patton did not have time to call Logan and ask. The point was, the most massive battle between people with powers was happening right now, and Virgil-Patton's Virgil, one of the loves of Patton's life-was caught in the middle of it.

Rather, he was caught under it. Virgil had thrown himself under the bridge when another Superhuman had knocked out the supports. His strength and resilience and pure stubborn will was allowing him to hold it up, but even that had a limit and Patton knew, he knew, that that limit was going to be reached soon.

Too soon. God, Patton knew if he could just get there before the inevitable, then he could help, they could fix this-

Patton, the only Normal Human present, went scrambling over the rubble of once-standing buildings. (Already, four different Superhumans, heroes and civilians, had tried to usher Patton out of the war-zone. But they didn’t have the time to argue with some idiot, rushing headlong into death. All Patton had to do was insist he wasn’t leaving, and in some cases rush away when they grabbed at him. He was lucky, he supposed, that no villains had spotted him, but they weren’t really looking for civilians anymore. No, they seemed to be intent on destroying as much of the city as possible, everything-and everyone-else be damned.) Rocks and debris scittered down the mountains he crossed as his reckless, clumsy feet dislodged them. He twisted his ankle and then twisted it again and kept running. He was so close, so close to his love. Not his first, not his last, but the one in the middle. The man who taught Patton acceptance of his own flaws and problems. The man who taught Patton that just because something is different does not mean it is bad or makes you worth less.

Patton ducked a bright green thing flying for his head and fell. His glasses hit the ground, and one side shattered. The frames were still intact, so Patton shoved them back on his face and kept running. He wouldn't have stopped even for the glasses, but he couldn't see anything without them. His sight was worse than Logan's, and that was saying something.

Now half-blind and bleeding, Patton was stumbling through a veritable war-zone. The projectiles were coming faster now, and buildings were still slamming into the ground. How were there still buildings left to fall? How hadn't all the Superhumans killed each other? How could this all still be happening when Virgil, Patton's sweet and sour shadowling, was being crushed? How could the world still be moving when they needed to stop and help him?

Patton tripped down the last rubble hill and there, not twenty feet away, was Virgil. Sweat and what looked like blood-please don't be blood- soaked through the long sleeved maroon shirt he wore. (Roman had bought him that two years ago for Valentine's Day. I know our love is not romantic, but I love you all the same, and Valentine's Day is celebrating all love, Roman had told his qpp with his usual flare. And look! It's even in our colors! Virgil had played it off like it was nothing, but it was the shirt he wore whenever he felt bad, or when he needed to feel braver.) You couldn't tell how absolutely stick-thin Virgil was under the huge shirt. He was the last person you would think had super-strength.

(Patton remembered the day he'd found out. They'd been dating for almost a year and in typical Virgil fashion, he'd become too anxious to simply tell Patton that he was Superhuman. (He was scared of rejection, or that Patton would be angry that Virgil hadn't said anything sooner. Like a disclaimer, ya'know? Patton, in typical Patton fashion, had only been delighted.) Instead, he came back from a week of radio silence. Patton rushed him for a hug, and Virgil had wrapped his arms around Patton, lifted, and spun. Patton was stunned. Rare was the person who could lift Patton. (He wasn't tall, but he had a particular affinity for cookies, and he was a baker.) Virgil smiled sheepishly and ran a shaking hand through is hair. After his initial shock, Patton had squealed and demanded to know everything. Virgil was kind enough to comply. Now, Virgil's hugs and spins were some of Patton's favorites.)

"Virgil!"

"Patton?" There wasn't even enough space for Virgil to lift his head from how he was squatting an entire bridge, but the shock in his voice was obvious enough. "What are you doing here? Go! You need to get out!"

"Virge, honey, you need to come out. Alright? You have to drop the bridge."

"There's still people under it, Patton! I can't let it go. But you need to leave. It's not safe here." Virgil twisted his head to look up to Patton. (Virgil had never looked up at Patton before in his life. Patton was five foot nine, but Virgil was six foot four.) Virgil was shaking as he did it, like he could barely stand to move his head at all.

Patton took a second to glance to the side. Virgil was right; other Superhumans were running and flying and leaping and crawling under the soon-to-be-wreckage, pulling out civilians and animals and other Superhumans alike. He jerked back to Virgil.

"I'm not leaving without you, Virge. And if you don't let the bridge down, you'll die. You can save so many more of them if you keep living, Virgil. So many more people will need your help, and you can help them, but you have to live to do it. Please, Virge. You need to get out from under there." Patton dropped to his knees in front of Virgil. Virgil's head dropped down with him, like a puppet who's master lost the strings. Patton cupped his face, and felt the trembling-in his cheeks, his arms, his legs. Like Virgil was experiencing his own personal earthquake. "Honey, if you don't let it go, let this go now, you won't be able to. Please, Virgil. Please, I need you. Roman and Logan need you. Virgil, you'll die if you don't get on top of this now." Patton tried to smile at the word-play, but it was too much.

"Patton, I can't." Virgil looked stricken, and Patton could tell he was an inch closer to the ground now than he had been.

"Virgil, please. I-I can't leave you here, a-and I-"

"No. Patton, I can't. It's-it's too late." Virgil smiled, watery and brave. "It was too late before you got here. I-I can't lift it, my angel. So you need to leave. Because-because I can't protect you, and I don't want you to see this. Okay, my angel?" The expression of Virgil's face crumpled like paper, and Patton stared, horror and denial turning him to a punching bag.

"Virgil, you have to. Please, I need you, Virgil. You-you have to try. For me. Try for me, Virge. Please try." Patton was gasping, tears running down his face. Virgil looked at Patton, and he forced a heavy breath out. Then in. Out again.

"Okay, Pat. For you. I'll try for you." Then, Virgil's face twisted up into a feral snarl, and he shook and he shook as he pushed against the weight of everything. In that moment, Patton saw the man who was locked at a crossroads in the public eye; the man who stood between a dozen debates. Half the population thought him to be a villain, and the other half thought he was a hero. The dark choice in clothes, secret identity, avoiding the press, and ever present snarl was more than enough to put a doubt in the masses. Was Purple Shadow good? Was he really a villain? (Patton remembered Virgil picking the outfit, when he'd decided to be a hero. (I'm not a hero. I'm just going to help people.) He'd nervously fingered the stiff black fabric, and muttered what if it's too dark? What if they think I'm going to hurt them? What if they hate me? Patton had patted his back. Kiddo, what you wear won't matter. They'll see that you want to help. But Virgil had been antsy, so Patton had learned to sew. He sewed swirls of dark and iridescent and bright purple into the cloth. Not so dark now, but still dark. Do you like it? Virgil had loved it. And Patton had even made him a royal purple cape that could function sort of like a hoodie, but ripped off easily so that it wouldn't hinder him in battle. It's perfect, my angel. I adore it.)

The bridge lifted a centimeter at a time. Patton kept mumbling praises and pleas, and begging every god Logan had ever mentioned from school or that Roman had ever mentioned from his plays to please, let Virgil live, take Patton instead, switch their places, let Virgil have a life damnit, he deserves one.

Except, the bridge stopped moving upward. And Virgil let out a shuddering breath. And then slowly he began to fold again, stone bridge pressing and pressing and gravity stomping Virgil lower and lower and fuck Isaac Newton and Albert Einstein whoever else made gravity so goddamn irreversible.

"Virgil, honey, please. Just, keep trying. Keep trying, Virge. You were almost there. You were so close, Virge. Just-"

"Patton, I can't. I can't do it. It's too much. It's too heavy and I can't get out, and I'm sorry I'm so sorry this is all my fault I shouldn't have-"

"Virgil, listen. It's alright. It's alright. This isn't your fault. None of this is your fault." Patton forced a smile, tears streaking his dirty face. Virgil was terrified, and having a panic attack, and Patton could never let his Virge hurt like that. He could smile through this pain for Virgil. He would grin and bear it if that's what Virgil needed to be okay. To not be scared.

"I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm so sorry, my angel. I-I don't want to die. I don't-"

"I know, Virge. I know. You'll be okay. Somebody will help. You just have to last a little longer. Deep breaths, honey, okay? Just keep breathing." Patton looked wildly around, trying to find someone who could lift the bridge. Just a for a second, just long enough to pull Virgil out, but the fight was still raging around them. Not one Superhuman spared a glance for the man holding up the world.

"Pat-Patton, I'm scared. I'm scared. Please, Pat. I-I don't want to die alone. I don't want to be alone. Please, don't leave. It's selfish, I know I'm being selfish, but please Patton. Please don't leave me. I-I don't want to die. I'm scared-" Virgil broke off. He was shaking even more, barely a foot above the ground, and he was crying. Virgil was bawling right where everyone could see, and Virgil would never do that. Virgil hated crying.

"Virgil, honey, don't worry. I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to be right here. I will stay right here, okay Virgil? Can you hear me? I'm going to be with you. It's not a selfish thing at all Virgil, and I love you, and it's not your fault, and nothing could move me from this spot. Alright, Virge? I am staying with you. I chose you and I choose you and I am staying right here." Patton scooted forward and pressed a kiss to Virgil's lips. He reached under the bridge and wrapped his hand around Virgil's wrist, rubbing his hand soothingly. "I love you, Virgil. Nothing could move me from this spot. Nothing."

Selfish? Virgil thought that not wanting to die alone was selfish? That was the least selfish thing that Patton had ever heard of. Virgil, of all the people Patton had met through charity work and non-profit organizations, was the least selfish person Patton had ever met. He was amazing and kind and didn't ask for help because he didn't want to inconvenience others. Patton had begged to do the stitching on Virgil's costume. And Virgil had barely agreed. He did everything for everyone and asked for nothing back. And now he was scared and thought asking for any comfort was selfish? He was beautiful and perfect and he never saw that and he was never selfish.

"Patton, I-I can't hold it. I'm gonna fall. I'm gonna fall. I-It's-" Virgil stuttered off again, and Patton looked around desperately before tensing. There was no help coming, no one who cared enough about a lesser known Vigiliante-hero combination. Not one single other person was going to stop and help, and that alone made Virgil worth a thousand of them.

Patton forced back tears. He knew what he had to do.

"Virgil, it's okay. If you can't hold it, you don't have to. You can just let it go, okay? Nobody will be mad, nobody will be disappointed. You tried your best and you saved so many lives, and everybody knows that. Okay, honey? I-I want you to keep trying, but I understand if you can't. I-" Patton let out one sob. "If you need to let go, you can. I will be right here with you Virgil. You will never be alone, okay? I will be here, and if you need to let go, then it's okay. I understand. You can let go." Tears ran down Patton's face, but he refused to sob. Virgil needed him to he strong. For once, Virgil was asking that Patton help. He wanted Patton to help him, and Patton wouldn't fail him. Not now. Not when it mattered most.

"I-I love you, my angel. I love you so much." (Patton remembered the first time Virgil had called him my angel. They had been together for three years. (Roman was already in the picture by then. He had completed their happy quartet.) In all their time together-three years of friendship, one year of something more, three years of dating-Virgil had never used a pet name. He had never called Patton anything other than Patton or Pat. (Patton didn't mind. He was a little sad at first, but he got over it. It was just another piece of Virgil to learn to love.) It hadn't been a particularly special day, but they had been at the house alone, Logan and Roman both busy with other things at the time, and Patton had been sad. There wasn't a reason, just the chemicals in his head acting up again. (They did that sometimes. Virgil assured him it was nothing that needed fixing. He wasn't broken. He just needed a little help.) And Virgil had come up and whispered, what's the matter, my angel? What do you need? Patton's brain had malfunctioned a moment, not feeling sad or numb or anything but shocked. Virgil went red and began apologizing, trying to take it back. But Patton's brain caught up, and the sadness came back, and he grabbed Virgil's wrist-like he was now-and burst into tears. They stung his eyes, but that didn't matter. The name didn't magically clear up the sadness and it didn't make the chemicals work right, but it did make Patton's heart flutter. It did make Patton feel a little warmer. It did make the tears in his eyes feel not so bad as before. I need you to say it again. Please, Virge. And Virgil had been kind enough to comply yet again. Virgil sat next to him, held him close, laid them both down on their too-small couch, and whispered my angel over and over. He whispered it until Patton closed his eyes, he whispered until the tears dried up, he whispered until the sun set and Patton slept, and Patton's pretty sure he heard him whispering still while he slept. Virgil never said it around others, and Patton never mentioned it to anyone else. It was Patton's name. His title. Patton was Virgil's angel, and that was among his greatest prides.)

The bridge fell.

Patton screamed as Virgil was shattered and smashed under an impossible weight, and Patton screamed as his own hand went with his second love. Patton screamed as the blood began seeping out from under the bridge, and Patton screamed as the blood soaked the knees of his pants. Patton screamed as his world fell apart, and Patton screamed as everything else did too. Patton screamed as everything kept moving and fighting, and Patton screamed as it all became too much.

Finally, hours or days or weeks later, Patton went quiet. He had no sound left. And then he noticed a shimmer of purple. The detachable cape Virgil had worn. Torn off in the battle, or dropped from Virgil's bag when he rushed to help? Patton didn't know. Logan probably would, he thought quietly. Logan would know what was going on and why it was happening. And Roman would make a joke to let Patton know it was alright.

Patton reached for the sooty material, and he felt with immaculate clarity the agonizing pain as his wrist moved from where it was smashed, made to be one with his love. The pain didn't make Patton pause. He just kept reaching and shifting until he could grab the cape. He pulled the material into his lap and sat, hand smashed and a third of his world gone. He sat and he toyed with the material. He sat and he cried because Virgil did not deserve this. He cried because he didn't deserve this. He cried because Roman and Logan didn't even know yet, and they didn't deserve this, and who would have to tell them? Patton thought he should. He was in love with them both-different kinds of love, but still love. He owed them the news himself. They should hear it from him.

Patton sat in the debris and blood in the midst of the largest battle in a century, and he cried because he had lost. They had all lost.

So, so much.

[shedidntfitin]

7/7/19

Hello again! My intention was for this to be a diary, but as you may have noticed, it’s been a hot minuet since my first entry. Maybe I’ll do better.

I’m “home” for the summer. I’ve been living in university housing sew I couldn’t really stay over in Milly I suppose, BUT I’M GETTING AN APARTMENT IN AUGUST HUZZAH! It’s nice to be with family and all, well Mom and Dad for the other kids are adults who live far away, but the town can be somewhat agonizing. I live in The South, a land of protestant rule and oppression, so I do my best not to step out the door. The whole town knows us, and Dad’s a doctor, so my identity rather affects the family as a whole socially and economically, as well as affects members of the town whose prejudice outlays their concern for their own health. Though my being closed off for 3 months hiding in a bubble from the world because I’m terrified of the idea of fucking up my family’s lives as well as the health of the stupid (patients who decide their prejudice outweighs their need for medicine) could be seen as a tad narcissistic, to think that I have such control and it’s my job to protect etc. but would guilt for such outcomes be unwarranted, for I did predict them and placed my psychological status above if I chose to come out. The main reason I don’t come out to the town is cause I have no life here; I’ve never had a life here. In seventh grade I transferred to a school 30 minuets down the road cause the school in my hometown couldn’t care less about education; I have no relation to these people sew I really don’t care how they see me the few times I do go out.

Still. I reside in my room staring at my closet, seeing the ways I could express myself, seeing the masks I must wear. My brother just had a kid sew we do pop over and visit a fair amount, but I find reasons to stay home, not because of the reasons I do somewhat abhor my brother, but because I have the house to myself. I can dress as me. I can run around the house screaming good morning star shine the earth says hello while I do my make up (something for which I have little practice anyways but still). I can be open about me, only with myself, the cat, sometimes the when she is left, and Trixie (the camera girl who follows me, not an imaginary friend, but that’s a conversation about philosophy for another day). What does it say that the few chances I have to see my family, generally my grandparents who, though they are fairly healthy, could die at any point, I choose instead to stay home and be myself for once. I can't stand this, ya know. Like sure, it’s small things, wearing pants and a button-down instead of a dress and tights, masculine pronouns in stead of feminine, using the name Donovan instead of Mary, but the weight they carry on their own is massive, together it’s almost unbearable. But what do I do? I could tell mom, of course. She comprehends and agrees to let me express myself while feeling extreme guilt over the agony her child endures and the level which she adds, I’d feel like shit for what pain I awoke. She doesn’t comprehend, argues the point, says fine do whatever, I fold, she feels like shit because at that point it is obvious I’m going through my agony to appease her, I feel like shit because I see the opportunity to undo my chains but can’t bear to because I do know what it would do to her and Dad as well as realizing that she still doesn’t comprehend and/or accept who I am. Or i stay silent and endure what I can, leaving Mom and Dad none the wiser. I know my first job is to take care of myself, it’s what I tell sew many whom I nurture, but as Sir Isaac Newton said, every action has an equal and opposite reaction; everything we do has consequences, and whether or not you intended them you are at a certain level of fault for what happens. augh I miss being a child; the world was so much simpler then. 

I’m sure I’m forgetting something that I can throw in later. As a reminder, I think I’ll next write about a convo with my brother.

[adacic1033-blog]

zimmerman code on the go

IF I CAN SHOW YOU POSSIBILITY INSIDE MY MINDIF I CAN SHOW YOU POSSIBILITY INSIDE MY MINDvimeo.comhttps://vimeo.com/56504295FACEBOOKanonymous,mouvement bonificateur,mb,unicef,onu,unesco,joob,joubidou,cercle de culture,crop circle,frenchvimeo.comhttps://vimeo.com/56302027ANONYMOUSThis is "ANONYMOUS" by VJ jOOb on Vimeo, the home for high quality videos and the people who love them.vimeo.comDuncanyour taste in music is nice brothis is cryptomusicfrom cicada3301you need earphone to catch the synesthesic and binaural beat hiding in the rythmeDuncanthats why its so nice asmr?Simon Newtonthis a dnaisaac newtonright familyhttps://www.google.ca/search?q=newton%2Bnsbradio&oq=newton%2Bnsbradio&aqs=chrome..69i57.10703j0j8&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8#q=isaac+newton%2Banti+illuminatinewton nsbradio - Google Searchgoogle.cago to the nsbradio chat and ask them for me to remove all ban for the whole area where i amtell them joob is readythey will understandAdamhttps://youtu.be/yydZbVoCbn0Trent Reznor And Atticus Ross The Soical Network Soundtrack [Full Album]Artist: Trent Reznor (Nine Inch Nails) Atticus Ross (Nine Inch Nails And How To Destroy Angels) Track List: ____________________ 00:00 Hand Covers Bruise 04:...youtube.comDuncan*same shirt*https://wizu.fr/soon.htmlBientôtwizu.frhttps://vimeo.com/21487411BAD DJ TARGETINGBAD DJ TARGETINGvimeo.comthis is wave warDuncani have no interest in any kind of war but i find your posts very peacefuli call that war but its nothttps://vimeo.com/21229792LA BOMBE MIXER NOIRLA BOMBE MIXER NOIRvimeo.comDuncanok goodhow do you memorise this stuff?https://vimeo.com/20944556MISSION CONTROLMISSION CONTROLvimeo.comi dont knowits easy for mei can mix with no loop at alli build them in real timei dont like to repeat myselfi pratice to mix in high speedmany keyboard on the same computerDuncanhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zwG97ah0mEUTHE ALGORITHM - Trojans (Official Music Video - Basick Records)iTunes: http://georiot.co/1Gel Amazon CD: http://georiot.co/THW Amazon Vinyl: http://georiot.co/lpm Amazon Digital: http://georiot.co/1OQO BASICK: http://bit...youtube.comi stick bottle cap on the keyboard touch i use the most and remove all other i dont usei stick those keyboard around meand i hit the big button is did fasterthis is funny for me if i can make kata in same time i mixDuncandodecahedronsi train my counter jihad while i mixchakrachipranamollecular cymaticwelcome to the 4 dimensionDuncansiahttps://vimeo.com/20926277POCHE SHAKING CONTEST OF LA POMPEPOCHE SHAKING CONTEST OF LA POMPEvimeo.comDuncanhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GKSRyLdjsPApompe=pump in frenhbombe=bombreverse the b in pand you create homosexual confusionhahahahahahaDuncani will have a dick up my ass but im not gay ok?you are free to put what you want in your assthis is a free wolddont fuck minehttps://vimeo.com/20922812TRANSFORMATION DRAG KINGTRANSFORMATION DRAG KINGvimeo.comDuncanabsolutely ive missed you since it has been sometime since ive seen you i dont plan toprincipal skinnerhttps://vimeo.com/21047341L ATTAQUE DU VJ AVEC JOOB SPINNING VJO SONL ATTAQUE DU VJ AVEC JOOB SPINNING VJO SONvimeo.comDuncancontrol the force...rememberexcuses fuck off !i like youyou understand faster then otherif i bored you tell me i will stopthis videos loop take 8 years to be ready for todayDuncanperenial winter falls upon the autumn snow an eclipse of the solarity and singularity of the gay/goi sun approaches and westmere takes off his trenchcoat and slingsit over his shoulder he is finding new ways of controlling the black magic building within himself and accessing all the dimensions at once and producing thoughts and patterns associated with the tumblr defence system somewhere in america the missile defence system raises and fire off a ballistic series of missiles aim at obliterating thefisherman on the stinky river that crosses through the riverina that they must prove the more gorey victor is synonymous with their grip and proliferation of the terror cells plauging their country WHO the fuck is donald trumpDuncan?this is for kid first off allhttps://vimeo.com/20733325GARDONS L OEIL OUVERTGARDONS L OEIL OUVERTvimeo.comgay like mei like themwe understand each otherDuncancontrol the focus control the message i am joel fucking oesteen!@fuck you big dickDuncani am not myself today then who are you me of ocurse i instead but you perhaps alsoruni am comingDuncankill me sweetlyi am furius about that thingjoel zimmermanDuncanflip it asshole!like the zimmerman codesorrymaybe i make some mistakewhile i was on drug effectDuncanstraight up aand down thats me different operating systmes mine is instant and flawless yours?all the world hate you so much...i wanna be like youtroll mastershow mebig dicki wanna be in the nsbradio chatthe bot is to powerfull to be hijackedDuncando the most unreasonable comical (to you) unpopular and hardest thing first when you walk into any roomif you dont help i gonna be kill you know thati mix freeif not i make shit all over the worldCleideCleideDuncanyou are a fundament let them kill you invite them to kill you publish your personal addressi did already and you know thatrespectDuncanok now open the door and sleep with it openi did alsoi run naked in the streeti am on youtubeDuncanawesomegrand prix the trois-riviersDuncanthis is the initial stages of influence for youthe place where i suppose to raceDuncanthey are testing youdont be like thisDuncanseeing how much you can growwe are cicada3301Duncani am the rememdycrucify me shout to themmy way is the same then yousorry i dint do to copy youwe are canadianDuncanyes wolverienejustin trudeau is my targetdont touch my ennemy i dont touch yourDuncancontrol death this is the the testdead dont existi ama part of himDuncani talk you down now perhaps i am being hastythe only oneDuncannecromancy all around you?anyway...yesDuncantoo long in the wilderness?bad peoplei am alone like alonei dont like other peopleDuncanyou are there talking to meherei dont like youyou are a project that itwhere your vj?i will destroy himi really dont need you at allDuncanchallenge yourself on the concept of binary genderismi make serious mance earlier to the electronic crew of quebeci am starving since 8 yearsplaying the simple mindDuncanthen fuick off why do you ask me to do things fo ryou payment in kind is what i expect if you have no intention of making same payment then i dont need you also, plus you are full of shit and your childish ideas sont bear out in realityi am tire to be stupid for themmy family is the thing i love the mostDuncanmind control you ust embrace the darknessmove your assi pay youDuncanembrace its message be dead, die alreadyi am rich anywayDuncanyou are hurt so i dont take it personally350 millionsfrizt duquesne joubert hide for metake it the way you wantyou still have your girlfriend on your sideDuncansure when will that bear out in reality where you can actually access it you cant you wont they will die protecting it and take pride at being the richest most money taking cunt in the cememterytell her hello from meDuncanNOthanxDuncanyou are a fuckli dont fuck what you fuck beforeyou are dirtyDuncana lonely fuck wake upi dont use your thingnyan cat is coming soonviva canadian tireDuncanfacist!coffee run is not for the english people onlywe have tim horton hereDuncanrandom does not exist you have had information overload and are trying to piece it together you will get tired very soon watch my pendulum!did i take to much of your time manDuncanyes of course notdont spend your precious time on meeven you are real or notDuncanwell said pointy satanist fuckernottera lie can bring me fari hate satanicMorrisDucan yothat why i support youthey try to kill youbut they miss youdeadmice are on your way alwayfuck naziVous avez nommé la conversation : cicada3301 2017.Duncanwe are all dead its just that some of us are alivei am sad about my girlfriend who i think with the enemydead is life for meDuncanyou are being targetted by ai also and she is being too alsoi remember well other lifei knowDuncanyou must die to yourself it is written you will find a long trail of hardship i am not your guru i thinki know what to do i thinki cant dieDuncangreat take care gotta go byeyou know that and i know that toi am manyfrom far awaymy dna arn is not sleeping anymoreyou are from nibiru?jokingi dont wanna knowMorrisSecond earththis gonna be a surpriseMorrisYepyou gonna stay close or you will disapear againMorrisLonniebini am tire to chase a ghostMorrisYoui know you take over my computerMorrisHello neoYou have found the onei dont found himMorrisYesi knew i was not crazyMorrisYou arethe planet is to smallMorrisSmall worldand justin trudeau is on my track because he came first at methis not my choiceMorrisYesCrazyi didnt choose to be what i amMorrisTalkHumanManbut i will play the gamei am stupid for my familyi am nothing for all people i knoweven for my bitch girlfriend i think she was pay to stop mei have some soupson about few thinghahahahahhaMorrisFucken stop nowi am really stupid to let you having power on melet me show you what i learn from youi am a fucking assholeand i will be a good onei will kill for youare you counter jihad style alsowe gonna figth together alonewith no lookerjust to trainpic pac poctic tac tocpetic petac petocArishi am the oposite of anonymousi am exibitionisthttps://vimeo.com/20297089the king is the 13https://vimeo.com/20060645Duncanchinese statement: you r dedi knowasiatic are with usDuncanyes but they lack the power to discerni dont care about who hate mei love allDuncanhate what isevilwe will help them...i know the powerfull side is our sidewe do more with nothing for nothingDuncanyes you must never forget thisi mix for kidi did for themi like to rule my rulei am uniquei thinkwe are all uniquebut tell me why they hate me all so muchthis is badeven if i am stupidDuncanbecause you lived where they diedthey suppose to love mei was sad beforebut i am in live adrenalini love adrenalini forget drugjust a weed huge joinDuncanyes i need weed alsoi did speed to train myselfArishi have use the amphetamin the right wayif not i will diewe need to stop themDuncanyou have made the correct choice where 99% fail using drugs correctlyslaughterhasten the revolution this is thesmartest choicehttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BlBWYD_fu-4Deadmau5 Studio Session Livestream HD 1/17/14For those who missed it we recorded the studio session of Deadmau5. Check it out! Subscribe for more! HOW TO FOLLOW: http://www.abletonlivetechs.com/ https:/...youtube.comi like your control baseyou dont have enought screen and computerDuncanpower does not come from childish games...groovy uselessi dont know how to create musicmaybe i gonna be good at it alsodj is shit name for youyou are dji forgot the nameanywaycreation is the only we to performyou know i will be well know all over the worldthis is not my first choicei was thinking about a simple lifei dont belive in moneybutDuncantracks i have made: https://soundcloud.com/user-533630704-240129607after many year of starving and killing thingi will emerge for my familyyou are fastthanxi hate slow thingi dont like speedy thingbut my speed is higher then otheri dont floodi just create faster then people can understandi have idea i can forgot at alli see the futuri saw spaceshipi know this is for menot for other peoplethose voice in my head are good wisdomsbut i do my way and i dont listen like a puppeti do if its funny and speciali know i can kill anybody fast and furiousi am the most dangerous thing you knowmaybe youare like mebut if the cryptomusic take control over mei am not me anymorei ama royal gardroyaume de cieuxi forgot in englishi learn english because they ask me to dolife is for real assholeDuncanlisten: https://soundcloud.com/user-533630704-240129607doctor deathListen to doctor death | SoundCloud is an audio platform that lets you listen to what you love and share the sounds you create.soundcloud.comsorryi need many time of listening to catch the message insidelet me until tomorrow to be readyi likeif you ask my impressionyou are never badyou are  alway goodi dont choose ordinary peoplei knew you will answer one day or an otherthis is for the tripi am not impress about youi respect youbut i think its better to be carefull about usyou gonna look stupid on my sideArishi know thati dont know how the thing gonna turni cant be see with youthey gonna be shyArishmy family gonna be under serious chocmy family need methey want respecti bring deshonor on them last 8 yearsi am surrouded by illuminatisand other secret societycopi am a witness in c-sonoreall assholei need to scare them seriouslyi play my role of french cabincr3w againthey kill the first aerithi use aerith name to scare themsorry i am listening your workand i follow the crypto plan insidei talk to much i knowtell me shut up mani moove to toronto sooni need some fresh airi dont want you hereanywaydo what you wantbut if you comebe hard and be visible for the whole towni dont believe in revangebut in this case this is not ordinary casewe are copsVous avez ajouté Jane Do.Vous avez ajouté Âkâsh Gâïkwâd.Vous avez ajouté Ashly Kalnins.Vous avez ajouté François Harvey.

[theoriginalkidwithapen]

Principia – De Motu Corporum XI

CW:  politics, foul language, abuse, violence against children, death, murder, drinking, generational trauma, alcoholism

Moreover... we may discover the proportion of a centripetal force to any other known force, such as that of gravity. For if a body by means of its gravity revolves in a circle concentric to the earth, this gravity is the centripetal force of that body.

– Sir Isaac Newton, “Philosophae Naturalis Principia Mathematica”

The Southeast Corridor was a long tunnel 30 meters across.  Like with other examples of Lunar construction, it had been bored and excavated from an existing lava tube long ago, and was not covered from floor to ceiling in buildings, bridges, catwalks, and canopies, all punctuated and interwoven with pipes, ducts, and conduit placed wherever it would fit.  The lighting was warm and homely, the air rich is the strong, hearty smell of a dozen aromatic spices, and to Sara’s awe and perplexion, the tunnel walls rang with the sound of hundreds of people singing, accompanied by steady rhythmic clapping and the low drone of a didgeridoo.  All of this came together to create an atmosphere of primality and modernity, jubilation and solemnity, ritual and extemporanity, it was a hauntingly beautiful and profoundly…  human experience. “That’s amazing,” Sara half-whispered in awe, “What are they doing?”

“Havin’ a sing-songs,” Tahlia said contentedly as their coworkers began to join in, “Ahh, nothing like being back on colony after a hard day’s work, ay?” “I… wouldn’t know,” Sara said, somehow feeling a sense of loss at the richness of culture around her and the…  happiness, as if to spite the poverty present here, like in the other Selenite spaces she had seen here on the Moon, “Back home, everyone’s always so miserable and beaten.  You’d never have something like this in the Wards.” “Can you say that?” Tahlia asked, surprised, “Well, stay close to me, ay?  We’ll get you busted out laughing so we can scare those lows away, unna?”

Tahlia led Sara and, by extension, the rest of the group, left to the tunnel wall, up the stairs two floors, then a right, down past the large air vent with wind chimes hanging off the front, and another right across a bridge until they came to a triangular sign with 10 black circles connected by black lines to look like a shrugging cross, laid against a yellow background.  Sara had seen thee signs along their path, and that Tahlia had turned every time they encountered one, as if she were avoiding them. “Catchya inna bit, fullas,” Tahlia called out to the others, “The Earthfulla here needs some schooling.” The others let out a hearty laugh and continued ahead.  Tahlia directed Sara’s attention to the shrugging cross sign.  “That right there is a marker for the Mara-Tea Dreaming,” she began, “It’s important to my mob and to my colony, which is why it marks our custodial lands.  We fullas are the Chladni Community of Sinus Medii – our roots, customs, and culture came from the custodians of the lands of Australia way back in the way backs, but in the centuries since, we’ve welcomed Moonfullas from other backgrounds into our colony.” “And how does Sharqi fit in with all this?” Sara asked. “He’s one of us,” Tahlia replied, “Earthgubbahs put him in welfare during the moonquake of ‘49, so he never got reared up proper – he got sent to an Earthfulla family that were part of the Organisation.  He came back all growed up, and in a real blackfulla way, he uses his position to get us Moonfullas jobs so fewer of us have to be on the pension.” “You sound like you admire him,” Sara said. “For a Stolen Gen,” Tahlia replied, “he’s a fulla who’s strong in his culture.  Now, let’s get some grub, ay?”

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

The inside of the restaurant was lively and raucous, full of people talking, laughing, eating, drinking, even singing – and just generally enjoying each other’s company.  The air was alive with the smell of hearty food grilled in the open air – the aroma of onions and bell peppers, cooking oils and barbecue sauces, marinated meat and golden grains – Sara had never salivated like this before. The fry cook behind the counter was a giant Aboriginal man with both arms heavily scarred at the elbows, which was where flesh and bone abruptly gave way to the metal and silicone of his cybernetic replacements.  His apron had the words, “Black And Proud” printed in large, friendly letters across the chest. “Ay, there you are, sistagirl,” he said jovially, “I was wonderin’ what a fulla’d have to do to get his li’l darlen to come back to her dad’s!” He noticed Sara quietly following her, unsure of how to interact in this sort of setting.  “Tahlia,” he asked, “who’s that fulla?” “This fulla’s our new gunna be docker, Sara,” Tahlia replied, “She came up here from America.” “Shair, auntie girl,” he scolded, “Are you ignorant or what?  You know gubbahs don’t get us.” “This one ain’t a gubbah,” Tahlia explained, “Nan says she’s my sista from another mister, and I believe her.” “Shame job, Doris,” he sighed, and he gestured to the TV on the far end of the bar, which was airing an interview with the next prime minister of United Earth, a morbidly obese blowhard whose spray tan and toupee were in such appallingly bad taste that they had to be some kind of incomprehensible fashion statement, “Earthfullas are all like that one – they’ve got no respect.” “I’ll flog her myself if she doesn’t,” Tahlia said to Sara’s astonishment. “I’m still here, you know,” Sara commended, “and I’ve picked up enough Moonfulla talk today to know that you don’t like me very much, and I gotta know if we have a problem.” “Ay, little woman now,” the man answered, “don’t be a sookie.  I don’t bar fullas unless they’re violent or mission managers.  What’ll you have?” “Two of your finest,” Tahlia ordered, “and a flagon each.  Don’t skimp on the peppers this time, ay?” “Got it, Tahli,” he affirmed, “Ay, Christo!  Fill two gooms for these fullas ‘fore I bust you up!” “Ay, boss!” a younger Aboriginal man shouted in response before filling up two fist-sized glasses with some kind of clear liquor from a tap made from old copper pipes.  He slid the two glasses down to Tahlia as the older cyborg turned to his stovetop to grill up their orders. “I’d watch out, if I were you,” Tahlia cautioned as she handed Sara her drink, “This grog’s deadly solid, and it has but one redeeming quality.  Mooms up!” Sara joined her in knocking back the sterile, corrosive liquid, fighting the gag reflex its stench evoked as it went down her gullet.  Apart from the overpowering alcoholic sting, it had a distinct metallic tang, probably from the pipes and whatever it was stored or distilled in.  Even she, a seasoned moonshine drinker, found herself coughing and wheezing after choking it down. “Damn, that’s fucking good!” Sara winced. “It’s also too deadly a machine degreaser,” Tahlia concurred, just as impaired. “Literally,” Sara groaned as she struggled to find her equilibrium, “I might need a new liver after this.” “Dad’s right,” Tahlia said, “You are a sookie.” “Am not!” Sara protested. “Therem therem, sookie,” Tahlia teased, “Auntie Tahli’s gonna love you long time.  Two more, Christo!” “Ay, tidda!” Christo called out in response. “Maybe we should go slow on this next round,” Sara suggested, “You have any mixers back there?” “Got some cookin’ oil in the deep fryer!” Chrito replied loudly. “Ay, don’t try to be a blackman now, Christo!” Tahlia yelled, “You’ve got lemon juice and sugar back there, unna?  Mix us some hard lemonades, budj!” “Yeah, ay?” Christo answered, “Ay, she’s a big shot now, unna?” “True that, buddah!” half of the people in the room called out in response before going back to their business. “Shame,” Tahlia muttered to herself.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

The headquarters office for the Life Support Utility company’s Grimaldi branch was a cylindrical prefabricated structure that jutted out from the water treatment plant like a barnacle, as if it were tacked on as an afterthought.  Finchley noted the enormous water main going up through the cavern ceiling to the space elevator.  It was the non-descript jugular vein that provided the water, air, and propellant that without which, Grimaldi Station and all aboard would die. He and Nguyen continued across the stark concrete bridge that spanned the trench housing the electrical conduits servicing the power needs of the entire Grimaldi Space Elevator complex, and approached the front gate, which wasn’t really much more than a steel barricade set inside a gap in the chain link fence surrounding the facility.  Finchley pressed the button on the intercom.  Nothing happened.  He pressed it again.  Still nothing.  Nguyen began restlessly looking around, and noticed that although the door’s security equipment was in place, the bolt holding it locked had been cut. No, burned. Nguyen thought that a laser cutter or acetylene torch had been used here. With one hand and a sideways motion, Nguyen slid the barricade aside with little difficulty, to Finchley’s surprise.  “Ewan,” she said as she pulled a bundle of wires out from behind the intercom, which had been cut with electrician’s pliers, “just how, exactly, did you become an inspector?” “My maths were too poor to be an accountant,” Finchley confessed dryly, “and I’m too much of an arsehole to be a project manager.” “So much for the excellence of United Earth’s Civil Service,” Nguyen snarked.  She and Finchley drew their sidearms and cautiously approached the office building. They crept up to the front door and flattened their backs against the wall, flanking the doorway.  They could hear muffled, indistinct voices on the other side.  Nguyen pressed the button to talk on her collar microphone.  “Nguyen to Stationhouse,” she whispered urgently, “I’m with an MOI inspector at the LSU Grimaldi Branch HQ.  Possible breaking and entering, requesting immediate backup.” She glanced at Finchley, and he returned her gaze.  Finchley stepped in front of the door and, after silently counting down from three, he kicked the door open violently and entered, with Nguyen following closely. “Ministry of Inquiry!” Finchley barked at the occupants, “Don’t move!” The six people inside, all wearing LSU uniforms, looked up from apparently mundane tasks with surprise and alarm.  Everyone waited in apprehension as detective and technician alike were unsure of how to proceed.  Finchley and Nguyen slowly lowered their guns. “Stationhouse, this is Nguyen,” she reported in annoyance, “disregard.  Situation is under control.” “Are we under arrest?” a supervisor-type asked obliviously. “No,” Finchley replied with greater annoyance than his partner, “No, you’re not fucking under arrest, you twit!”  He holstered his weapon, and Nguyen did the same. “Good,” the supervisor said, “Now, if you don’t have any business here other than harassing utilities technicians, please leave.  We are extremely busy!” “Obviously,” Finchley snarked, “You didn’t notice that someone had disabled your security system.  We thought someone had broken in!” “You didn’t notice it either,” Nguyen commented offhandedly. “A break-in?” the supervisor asked, “We’ve detected no break-in here.” “How could you?” Nguyen countered, “All the security devices at your front gate have been disabled!” “Besides, you didn’t detect us until after we kicked in the door,” Finchley added. “Fair point,” the supervisor conceded, “and I would send someone out to repair them if I could spare anyone, but I’ve been down to a skeleton crew here ever since all those algal blooms cropped up in Surveyor City.  Even with everyone working on that crisis, we’re still working double and triple shifts every day.  You can thank your wretched colonial government’s shortsightedness for that!” Nguyen put a hand on her hip.  “That’s a hell of an opinion,” she critiqued, “especially for an employee of that government.” “Is it?” the supervisor asked, “I guess I’ve been too busy making sure that half a million people don’t die to notice.” “Right…” Nguyen narked as she rolled her eyes. “That said,” the supervisor said, “I must insist:  What business do you have here?” “We’d like to talk to you about the technician you sent to service the CELSS unit at the Governor’s Residence the other day,” Finchley said. The supervisor paused.  “Kovac, take over here for a minute,” he ordered, “Officers, step into my office, if you please.  I think we may want to discuss this in private.” They followed him to a plexiglass cubicle with no door.  The supervisor plopped down in the swivel chair behind the desk and turned to face the detectives. “You wanted to know about a technician that LSU sent to the Governor’s Residence?” he asked as he tapped his desk with his finger, calling up a holographic display with graphs, charts, spreadsheets, and tables, all hovering like cyan specters, “Ah, here it is.  Konstantin Dibra, Journeyman Utility Technician Grade 1, assigned to perform the monthly diagnostic test on the Governor’s Residence CELSS unit for January 2293 on 22930112.” He poked the work order for more information.  “Huh,” he said in subdued curiosity, “It says here that he accepted the job and completed it within the time allotted, but never reported in for his next job.  In fact, he didn’t show up for work today.” “Is that unusual for him?” Finchley asked. “Most definitely,” the supervisor replied, “Konstantin started here as a Grade 4 Apprentice, and in the 12 years he’s worked for the company, the only time he’s ever taken off from work was during the labor strike of ‘87.  The man’s a workaholic – he’s always taking extra shifts whenever they become available – even the few times he’s been sick or injured, he insisted on working his full shift.” “The ‘87 labor strike?” Nguyen asked, “So he’s political?” “I don’t have that information,” the supervisor said, “but everyone in LSU was there protesting the pay cuts and having to pre-fund 100 years of retirement pension payments, thanks to your wretched colonial government again.  I don’t think he had the time to get involved in politics, he was just standing up for his livelihood like the rest of us.” “But he’s still a trade unionist,” Nguyen pressed, “Doesn’t that imply a political affiliation?” “Not necessarily,” the supervisor corrected, “Everyone – and I mean everyone, down to the secretaries – who work at LSU is a card-carrying member of the LLT.  They don’t have to agree with the League’s politics, they don’t even have to like it, period, as long as they pay their dues, they get to work here and receive all the benefits that League membership confers.  Konstantin’s paid his dues on time every quarter for 12 years now.” “Could we get a copy of his employee jacket?” Finchley asked. “Certainly,” the supervisor answered, and summoned the technician’s dossier, which he sent to the detectives’ handsets with a flick of his wrist, “Anything else I can do for you?” “No,” Finchley concluded, “but we’ll contact you if we have further questions.” “Well then,” the supervisor dismissed, “good day.”  He gestured for them to leave. As they exited the building, Nguyen spoke up.  “So, where to now?” she asked. “I’ll question Ms. Yousafzai again,” Finchley stated, “I want you to go follow up on the Dibra lead.  Go to his home, try to locate him.” “Understood,” Nguyen responded.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

A savory, meaty, bready aroma heralded the arrival of Sara’s salivatory entreé – a breaded steak, buttered mashed potatoes and gravy, collared greens, and a pair of southern-style biscuits.  Never before in Sara’s life had she seen such a feast, let alone had one prepared for her.  She found herself unsure of how to attack it. Tahlia saw the apprehension in Sara’s eyes.  “Somethin’ wrong with it, darlen?” she asked. “No, it looks great,” Sara said, “I just can’t believe that all this is for me.” “Well, eat hearty,” Tahlia advised, “A docker’s gotta keep up her strength, unna?”  She took her own advice and began cutting into her steak. Sara stuck her fork into her cutlet and carved off a lice.  She put it in her mouth and began to chew, and the flavor – the tang of the salt, the cream of the buttermilk, the sinus-clearing power of the peppers and the garlic – it was more than merely delicious. It was painfully, profoundly beautiful. As she swallowed, she could feel her eyes moisten.  The moisture turned to wetness, the wetness to tears that rolled slowly down her cheek in the 1/6th gravity.  Before she knew it, she was sobbing uncontrollably, grieving for…  something.  The girl she was never allowed to be; who could have eaten like this sooner, perhaps.  Her grief turned to regret and self-hatred.  She wished she had never tasted such a morsel – that way, she wouldn’t have ever known that such a delightful thing could possibly exist, or that she could ever sample such a glorious delicacy.  She felt as if she had taken her knife and fork and cut out a piece of herself instead.  It hurt her more deeply than any wound she had ever suffered in her life, and it was agonizing. Good things didn’t happen to her.  She couldn’t accept that they might. Tahlia was surprised at Sara’s reaction.  Her dad’s cooking was good, but she had never heard of anyone being reduced to tears after only one bite.  “What’s wrong?” she asked. Sara continued to bawl inconsolably.  Tahlia didn’t know what to do – she had never seen a grown woman have a sook like this before.  Her tears weren’t born of pain or petulance, or of grief or gladlessness, or of heartbreak or hopelessness.  Hers were complex, conflicting tears which tugged at the tapestry of her soul in every direction until the threads frayed and it began to come apart at the seams. Tahlia couldn’t comfort Sara because Sara didn’t know what she was feeling herself. “Mad deadly, ay?” Tahlia asked Sara tenderly, “Gorn den, the second bite’s better’n the first.” Sara wiped her tears away on her sleeve, almost stabbing Tahlia with her steak knife on accident.  She regained just enough composure to take Tahlia’s advice and eat another bite of her impossibly heavenly steak dinner. “Why now?” Sara wept wretchedly, “Why not sooner?” “My dad cooked it as quickly as possible,” Tahlia replied, trying to raise Sara’s spirits by comically missing the point. “Not that,” Sara continued, “I just…  never ate like this before.  Nothin’ like this where I’m from.  I’m not sure I deserve this.” “Can you say that, auntie girl?” Tahlia asked, “You deserve to eat hearty and be happy like any fulla.  Now eat up.  Auntie Tahli’s gonna treat you right, ay?” Sara kept eating, still weeping as she did so.  Tahlia turned to face her dad behind the counter. “Ay, dad!” she called out, “Is he ignorant or what?” “Who?” he asked back. “That gubbah,” Tahlia clarified as she nodded in the direction of the screen, which was still showing the interview with the overflowingly gelatinous Prime-Minister-In-Waiting from the United States, George Paramount, “He’s got so much shit packed in his head, it’s spillin’ out his mouth!” “Ayy, no respect that one,” Dad replied, “They had him on earlier, busted for behaviour his nan shoulda flogged him for when he was a little fulla.  He’s got no shame.” “What sort of behaviour, dad?” “Oh, he was yarnin’ up big time about grabbin’ mootchas and other shameful shit on an Earth chat show last month,” Dad explained, “and get this – the host let rip on him for that talk, and the dish licker called her a liar, even when she showed him the fucking video of him sayin’ his exact words!  Then he stood over her and lapped her up over mobbin’ him up with slander and fake news!” “You’re gammon!” Tahlia dismissed, “Good go, dad, but not even!” “I’m bein’ straight out, baby girl, I’d swear he was grog sick there,” Dad contested, “The loon’s an even bigger sookie than this one, here!  If that’s the flashest the Earthgubbahs can pick, we Moonfullas might be best off lettin’ rip on those mission managers in the Colonial Government and stand up for our land rights.” “Nahhh, Earthgubbas have got all of the guns and none of the respect,” Tahlia countered, “If we rise up against them, they’ll turn the city’s tunnels into one great massacre site, and then we’ll all be in for some sorry business, unna?” “Shair, auntie girl,” Dad articulated, “There hasn’t been a massacre on Luna in a hundred years.  Gubbahs haven’t got the boobles for more than the occasional bust up.” “Dad,” Tahlia protested, “Mum and Nan were killed in the last ‘bust up.’  I don’t want any more in my mob to die.” “Is it better for us Moonfullas to die slowly as the Earthfullas replace us?” Christo chimed in. “Fuck off, Christo!” Tahlia snapped, “I swear to God I”m gonna bust you if you don’t!” “Then let’s get busted!” Sara shouted, “Christo, two more!” “That’s ‘hammered,’ sista from another mista,” Tahlia corrected.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Amsha was rudely awakened by percussive, metallic banging on the door of her cell before the bolt slid open and the door swung open, blinding her bleary eyes with the light from the corridor outside.  A short, stocky, night-black silhouette blotted out the light and set foot in the room.  Amsha quickly wrapped herself up in her bedsheets to preserve her modesty, but she wasn’t quite able to cover one of her ankles in the confusion. “Tell me about the LSU technician,” Fichley asked without breaking stride, “Every detail, you can remember, every impression you had of him, everything!” “What is going on!?” Amsha asked in a shocked manner. “The technician!” Finchley repeated, “Tell me now!” Amsha had to take a moment to organize her thoughts and recall what had been a routine and thoroughly forgettable encounter. “The technician was courteous, efficient, professional,” she replied nervously, “The job was completed within half an hour – at the time, I thought it was satisfactory – there weren’t any problems with security, no apparent difficulties or delays–” “Describe the technician,” Finchley ordered, “How tall was he?  Was he an Earther?  Spaceborn?  Selenite?  Did he have any identifying features, like scars, birthmarks, prostheses, tattoos?” “Th-the technician was 170-odd centimeters tall,” Amsha anxiously answered, “I think she might have been an Earther, but it was hard to tell with her baggy coverall–” “Wait a minute,” Finchley interrupted, “‘She?’” “Yes,” Amsha affirmed. “The LSU technician was a woman?” “Surely that’s not unusual.” “It isn’t,” Finchley interrogated, “but in this case, it’s impossible.  The technician that LSU dispatched to the Residence was male.” “What?” was all that Amsha could manage in her astonishment. “The technician, Konstantin Dirba, was a man,” Finchley clarified. “Your information must be wrong,” Amsha denied, “The technician who came to the Residence was definitely female.” “Ms. Yousafzai,” Finchley said sternly, “why are you lying to me?” “I’m not,” Amsha countered, “I was there.  I spoke with her for five minutes.  I am certain that she was as much a woman as I am now.” “Indulging in this ridiculous fiction will not derail this investigation,” Finchley accused, “Who is it that you are protecting?” “I’m not protecting anyone!” Amsha protested, “With merciful God a witness, the technician was a woman!  Why won’t you believe me!?” “Because your story is unbelievable,” Finchley conjectured, “Now, let’s try this one:  Your sister died from anatoxin poisoning due to contamination in the water supply, which the terrorist organisation he belonged to attributed to deliberate incompetence on the part of the Earth-appointed colonial government.  Grief-stricken and grasping for meaning, you joined up with the Selenite Liberation Front to carry on your sister’s work.” “This can’t be happening,” Amsha whispered with a quivering voice, “I’ve never committed a crime in my life, I’ve never harmed anyone–” “After being radicalised by Selenite nationalists, the Front exploited your exemplary criminal record to infiltrate you – a sleeper agent – into the Governor’s staff,” Finchley raised his voice as he speculated, “When the time was right, all you needed to do was look the other way while a Front operative sabotaged the Residence’s life support system, and avoid drinking the water while you stood by and watched the maladroit magistrate got his just desserts – death by anatoxin poisoning, just like your sister and thousands of other Selenites.” “–How many times must I tell you that I’m innocent?” Amsha continued, “Why do you keep accusing me of a crime I didn’t commit?” “Of course, your role in this sinister plot could be easily dismissed a negligent, for want of conclusive evidence or culpability,” Finchley pressed, “but under section 132 of the United Earth Code of Laws, lying to an Inspector of the Homeworld is considered perjury, which is a felony offence punishable by up to 120 months’ hard labour, a fine of more than 20,000 Global Exchange Option credits but not exceeding 25 million, or both.” Amha was aghast.  20,000 GEOs was more than she made in a month, and the Lunar Civil Service paid her for her work in the Residence much better than most jobs her fellow Selenites languished in.  She wasn’t even sure that she had 20,000 GEOs saved. A perjury conviction would ruin her, but she knew that she was not wrong about the sex of the LSU technician.  She had no choice but to persist. “I’m not lying, Inspector,” she answered with renewed determination, “the technician was a woman, and I had no knowledge of a plot to sabotage the Residence or assassinate the Governor-General.  You can check the security logs, they’ll prove that I’m telling the truth!�� “We’ll see,” Finchley said coldly, “Get dressed.  We’ll start again in five minutes.”

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

It wasn’t until she knocked back her fifth “flagon” of “grog” that Sara loosened up, stopped crying, and felt that warm, contented feeling she remembered from the hard-drinking days of her squandered youth. The booze was her happy chemical. “Auntie Tahli?” she drawled at her drinking companion, “I think I’ve found the grog’s one redeeming quality.” “Yeah, deadly ay?” Tahlia slurred back, “I’ll admit, you smashed those flagons like a killer, sistagirl!” “I can thank my dad for that,” Sara uttered, “It’s because of that motherfucker that I can hold my booze like I do.” “Was he a drunkard?” “Yeah,” Sara miserated, “Hardly had any money for food, but somehow he could always afford a bottle of moonshine for himself.  Whenever he got drunk, he’d hit me ‘til I was blue all over.  He wouldn’t stop until he passed out, and I learned to cherish those moments when he was too drunk to hurt me.  I’d bandage myself up as best I could, get a couple hours of quality shuteye, and pretend that he hit me because he loved me.” “Aww, poor darlen,” Tahlia commiserated, “How’dja get out?” “I was 8 when I got the idea that it was the booze that made him violent,” Sara yarned, “So one day, after I got thrashed so hard that three of my teeth broke, li’l Sara waited until he passed out, then stole his booze and ran away to throw it out somewhere.” Sara gulped nothing before continuing.  “Of course,” she confessed, “it wasn’t until I was halfway to the river that I realized that my dad would hit me for takin’ his rocket fuel away, so I decided not to go back home, which turned out to be the best decision I ever made.  I knew that alcohol made for a good disinfectant, and because I was still bleeding from my dad’s ham-fisted dental work, I took a swig from the bottle, endured the burning and the pain, and after a few more self-medication sessions throughout the day, I developed a taste for white liquor.” “Your mob’s river people?” Tahlia asked, apparently only catching the middle part of Sara’s tale. “Yeah, that’s us,” Sara sighed drunkenly, “Minneapolis – the Megacity of Lakes.  Straddling both banks of the mighty Missississ…  Mithithipp…  some big-ass river south of Canada, anyway, like a hooker fucking a storm drain.” “That’s a big fucking hooker,” Tahlia mused disjointedly. “Chonky,” Sara concurred. They sat there for about a minute, basking in the sophisticated poetry they had just crafted collaboratively.  They expected to win the 2293 Rhysling Award for their creative genius. “Mississippi!” Sara shouted out victoriously, “That’s the name of that goddamn river!  Fuck, I’m wasted!” “Glad we got that sorted,” Tahlia declared as she stood up, “I’m gonna go ring my flannel.”  She lurched over to a door marked, “Djillawa,” and stumbled inside. The George Paramount interview was interrupted by a news flash.  “Breaking news at this hour,” an impossibly comely news anchor announced, “Farouk Al-Amir Najjar, Governor-General of the Lunar Colonies, was found dead earlier today in the Governor’s Residence from anatoxin poisoning.” “Couldn’t have happened to a more deserving gubbah,” Dad grumbled as he wiped the counter down with a microfiber towel. “What’d he do?” Sara asked with inebriated curiosity. “That dish-licking mission manager’s been bleeding us Moonfullas dry for over 30 years,” he replied bitterly, “His ‘work programmes’ created thousands of jobs for Earthfullas while millions of Moonfullas are starving in the tunnels.  His government have prioritised tourism over life support, pouring money into expensive hotels overlooking the Apollo sites while children suffocate in their homes and algae blooms kill their parents.  He and his predecessors have been perpetrating a genocide so they can replace us with Earthfullas who will do as they are told, and every time we hoola to be heard, they make us drink contaminated water, breathe unrecycled air, and starve on crumbs thrown to us by ignorant visitors who care nothing for the hardship we Moonfullas suffer at their own hands.  That is what that Douligha fucker has done!” Sara paused for a moment.  “I’m one of those ignorant Earthfullas sent to replace you, you know,” she countered. “Tahlia says you’re a goodfulla,” Dad replied, “That’s good enough for me.” Sara thought about that for a moment, and she decided that she liked that.

“How did you get a job on the docks, anyway?” Dad asked, “The LLT aren’t in the business of giving jobs to Earthfullas.” “Sharqi pulled some strings,” Sara answered. Dad’s expression was one of understanding.  “A jambi job, unna?” he wondered, “That fulla’s a cheeky one, ay?  Must be because he’s a Stolen Gen.” “Why does a crime boss have so much pull over the Moonfulla community?” Sara asked. “He’s got no more ‘pull’ than anyone else, at the end of the day, we’re all just blackfullas anyway,” Dad answered, “but there’s no denying he’s a respected person in our mob – he’s done more for the Moonfulla community in five years than the Earthgubbahs have in fifty.  The Organisation give the LLT the moolah and the muscle they need to stand up to the ration dolers in the colonial government.  LLT protect legit jobs for Moonfullas, while the Organisation look out for our little buddahs and sistas who have to act shameful to keep from cadjing in the tunnels.  Since Sharqi took over the Organisation, fewer blackfullas have gone missing, especially the sistas.” “So they throw you a bone every now and then, and in return criminals get your undying loyalty?” Sara asked, “Sounds like a bad deal for you fullas.” “Don’t be a mission manager like those fullas,” Dad scolded, “We’d rather not be associated with criminals, but the Earthgubbahs have left us no choice.  When the rules are made to keep you under some other fulla’s heel, no one should be surprised when you don’t follow the rules.” “Naw, I get it,” Sara replied, “I really do.  Where I’m from, following the rules means a race between overwork and starvation, and see which kills you first.” “For more, we go live to our correspondent on the scene at the Governor’s Residence, Guiseppina Conti,” the anchor reported, “Peppi?” “Grazie,” an Italian reporter said as the screen switched over to her, “The Governor died while eating dinner, when he was served drinking water contaminated with anatoxin-a, a neurotoxin created by the bacteria that live inside toxic algae blooms.  He was dead within minutes.” “Does the investigation have any suspects?” the anchor asked. “They have the murderer in custody,” Peppi answered, “and there’s a manhunt for a co-conspirator going on as well.  While official sources refuse to comment on whether this was an isolated incident, reliable sources close to the investigation have indicated that the Selenite Liberation Front, a terrorist group operating in the Lunar colonies, may have ordered the Governor’s assassination–” The bar erupted in an uproar. “Ay, look out!” Christo shouted, “There’s gonna be blood on the walls now, buddahs!  True!?” “True that, buddah!” the patrons of the bar shouted in response. “Listen up now, young ones!” Dad roared, “Now I don’t wanna hear no more talk of risin’ up or of revolutions or of havin’ a crack at the Earthgubbah, at least not when they might be within cooee, unna!?” The uproar died down abruptly.  “That’s him,” Dad said with satisfaction, “Now, they’re just trying to flush us out, ay?  They’re out to irritate us – pull our beards, flick our faces – to make us fight on their terms.  Now, when the time is right, we and the other communities will sing out, and we will be heard.  Until then, we just oughta take a deep breath and cool our jets.  No sense in getting violent when it would do no good, ay?” “True that, Elder,” the bar murmured.  Dad turned the screen off. “Now clear off,” he said, “Go home and get some rack time.  Another hard yakka await you in the morning.” The bar began to empty out, and Dad clapped a synthetic hand onto Sara’s shoulder.  “You too, sistagirl,” he said, “Bar’s closed.” Sara got up and stumbled out the door.

“Ay, Sara!” Tahlia called out from behind her, “Where you goin’?” “Home,” Sara muttered distantly, “wherever that is…” She continued to follow Sara for a bit, until Sara stopped at the mouth of the tunnel. “Ay, I’m such a boofhead!” Tahlia declared, “Your salary won’t come ‘til sundown, so you’ve got nowhere to go!  Cooee, you can camp with me ‘til then, unna?” “Only one day?” Sara asked despondently, “Where will I stay tomorrow?” “Nah, auntie girl,” Tahlia said reassuringly, “sundown’s not for 18 days.  Sunup-to-sunup here on Luna is about a month long.” “All right,” Sara consented, “let’s go.  Lead the way, Auntie Tahli.” Tahlia turned Sara around and led her back into the tunnel.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Finchley exited the interrogation room and answered his handset.  “Inspector Finchley,” he said. “Ewan, it’s Anh Lihn,” Nguyen replied, “I’ve given Dibra’s hole a once-over.  He hasn’t been home since Wednesday morning, when he left for his first LSU job.” “He’s been gone for nearly two days?” Finchley asked, “Did any of his jobs require that he stay overnight elsewhere?” “No, they were all within two hours’ travel on the metro,” Nguyen answered, “The last job he accepted before he disappeared was the routine diagnostic of the Residence’s life support system.  How’s the interrogation proceeding?” “It’s been three hours, and she still professes her innocence,” Finchley answered, “She insists that the LSU technician she met was a woman.” “A we saw, the security footage was inconclusive,” Nguyen acknowledged, “but I came across an entry in his diary which describes a recent romance with a woman.  Apparently his work schedule required that they postpone a romantic getaway several times, and they were about to finally go when Dibra was called away to work on his last job.” “Did he call for a replacement?” Finchley asked, “Did LSU send someone in his place?” “No,” Nguyen replied, “he accepted the job, and later submitted a completion report.  As far as we know, that’s the last anyone heard from him.” “Try retracing his steps,” Finchley ordered, “I’ll follow up on the girlfriend.” “Got it,” Nguyen affirmed, and hung up. “Have Ms. Yousafzai moved back to her cell,” Finchley ordered one of the guards, “we’ll hold her for further questioning.”

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

“...Reliable sources close to the investigation have indicated that the Selenite Liberation Front, a terrorist group operating in the Lunar colonies, may have ordered the Governor’s assassination…” the screen in Sharqi’s champagne room played.  The room was dark, and Sharqi was brooding.  Esteri and Rosita had been showering him with affection, and he them, until his consigliere told him to watch the news.  Now, they were torn between trying to cheer him up and their own terrible awe at what their ears were telling them.  Sharqi tapped the tabletop exactly thus, calling his consigliere.

“Forbes,” he said between gritted teeth, “get me Rong She immediately.  I want to know what that serpentine fucker and her psychopathic sister were thinking when they had the Governor murdered.”