#but i was happy when i got an email from the mail service telling me a package i ordered on Friday is going to get here soon

[wolfchans]

The only emails I accept are 'your package is on the way'

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with MustangSally

MustangSally has 33 stories at Gossamer. Even if you haven’t read it, you’ve probably heard of at least one of them, Iolokus, since it’s an X-Files fanfic classic. All her fics hit big and are well worth your time. I’ve recced some of my favorites here before, including And Dance by the Light of the Moon, All the Children are Insane, and Iolokus. Big thanks to MustangSally for doing this interview.

What's the story behind your pen name?

I could tell you but then I would have to kill you.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

Yes and no. Yes, because life has moved on since the early nineties and the characters and the fans are in vastly different places now. Our current tech would make the premise of the X-Files impossible. No, because of the longevity of some of the Star Trek TOS work (there’s an archive of hard copy fanzines at the University of Iowa). Top-drawer authors started out in TOS fandom.

I’m just greatly saddened that my physical body is showing wear and tear while the fic doesn’t. Fic gets to stay smooth-skinned and muscular, captured at the peak of perfection.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

At the risk of sounding atrociously trite, I think of the friends I made.  I met some very remarkable women that I’ve been able to stay friends with online for over twenty-five years.  We may have moved to Facebook and post entirely too much about our pets and which of our body parts has sagged this week, but we’re friends.  It’s a furiously funny, feminist, and well-educated group of women with jobs in the highest levels of academia, finance, communications, and media.  I’m amused by the fact that if I have a question about how a virus replicates, I can ask a PhD I’ve been drunk with in Las Vegas.

Back in the day, I had a job that sent me traveling around major cities in the US and UK. I could post on a message board and within ten minutes there were people I could go out for dinner and drinks with. We already knew we had something we could talk about for at least a couple of hours. Additionally, most of these people were women so there was an added level of security. Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

Well, it was mostly atxc and the Yahoo! groups mailing lists that spiraled out into Geocities sites and, eventually, LiveJournal. The amusing thing is that getting in on the ground floor of social media and the Internet has helped me get jobs!  When I look at a new piece of software, I think, ‘this is hella easier than uploading to Geocities.’  We had to walk uphill both ways, in the snow, on dial-up, fighting off dinosaurs with our AOL CDs while writing HTML code. What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

DO NOT FEED THE TROLLS.

The past four years in politics have basically been the ugliest online kerfuffle the world has ever seen. I survived the Shipper Wars of ’96 and I thought those were brutal, but that was NOTHING. The only way to win an argument online is to not have the argument at all. Arguing with a troll is like mudwrestling a pig: You both get filthy and only the pig is happy.

Also, READ THE FUCKING TERMS OF SERVICE.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

I had the most terrible straight-girl crush on Scully. I wanted to be her best friend, I wanted to BE her.  I wanted to order Chinese food and paint each other’s nails and talk about bones.  Scully and Princess Leia and I could all just hang out poolside with hot and cold running waiters and poolboys, drink margaritas, and bitch about how unfair it all was – if the stupid men would just get OUT OF THE WAY AND LET US DO OUR JOBS, the world would be so much better. What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

This question is really about Iolokus, isn’t it?  You can’t fool me. [Lilydale note: I can neither confirm nor deny the motivation for this question, but I cannot complain about the answer.]

Simply put, I was enraged. The moment it was revealed that Scully’s ova had been used in experimentation, I lost my feminist mind. It was the most obscene defilement imaginable.  Scully wasn’t nearly as angry as I was.  What I thought needed to happen was for Scully to become a fiery force of vengeance against the MEN who had done this to her.  Clearly, I was not going to get that level of satisfaction from the show, as I was imagining Kali-like carnage on a global scale. I emailed RivkaT (whom I did not know well at that point) with a proposition that we work together. Strangely enough, we didn’t meet face to face until we were well into the project, but we did talk on the phone quite a bit. The rules were simple – everyone had to be punished in truly horrific ways, and at some point, we had to see if we could write a car chase (only because that seemed impossible).  Then it basically turned into a very twisted game of chicken to see who could be the most outrageous in terms of killing people off or writing really horrific things that fit within the structure of the narrative.  I did, in the end, write the car chase, but RivkaT one-upped me by throwing in a helicopter (a FOX News helicopter, at that).  

Really, RivkaT?  A helicopter? What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom? I am terribly proud of what I wrote, pleased that it brought pain and pleasure in equal amount to people, and, again, thrilled by the people I became friends with. I admit that I stopped watching the show when Scully announced her pregnancy.  I could only see a long jump over a shark tank for the rest of the series. I haven’t watched the new episodes, either.  It is complete in my mind and doesn’t need to be continued.  I wouldn’t say no to having a reunion with some of my fic friends, although we’re still chatting online like everyone does.   Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

Rivka and I wrote in the Buffy fandom for a few years, but then we moved on to real adult jobs that left absolutely no time for me to write. I’m in education, and I regularly sweat blood for fear that someone is going to find my old fic. The Buffy people were fun; there was a certain *shininess* to them that I really enjoyed. The X-men authors were just batshit and delightful, and some amazing stuff came out of Marvel fandom, particularly in the Thor/Loki and Steve/Bucky subgenres. I’ve learned to appreciate a good coffee shop AU and one famous Erik/Charles fic where all the main characters are crabs. Seriously, crabs—it’s hysterical. [Lilydale note: Other Crabs Cannot Be Trusted by groovyphilia currently has almost 2,500 kudos at AO3.]

Every few years, I’ll have a student try to explain to me what fandom is and I just smirk. Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully? No. Not really. Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom? I fell into an X-Men hole a few years back and had a great old time wallowing in the Cherik muck, and there was a flirtation with BBC Sherlock as well. Strangely enough, I became interested in A/B/O fics only because of what they were saying about the role of women in our society. The limitations on the male omegas seem absurd and then you realize those are the same limitations put on women all. the. time.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

RivkaT very nicely formatted everything and put it up on AO3. What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

I will always be stupidly proud of how shocked and horrified people were by Iolokus. The truth of the matter is that Iolokus has Greek drama at its core. Scully is Medea, and the entire story is lousy with “blood on the threshing floor” and Dionysian rites. The everyday is subverted into horror, and wives and daughters will tear men limb from limb like the Maenads. Since I was ultimately disappointed with what Chris Carter did with the entire show, that approach seemed appropriate.

At a certain level, all fic is corrective fic.  Like critic Anne Jamison said, “Irritated fans produce fanfic like irritated oysters produce pearls.”  And because fic has fallen so much into women’s sphere, a pure form of correction is not just the death of the author but the MURDER, a new creation springing up from the spilled blood like Cadmus sowing dragon’s teeth.

Okay, that’s a bit much. Maybe I should just take myself back to the isle of Goth Amazons or something. Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I had to write a self-evaluation and a reflection on pedagogy today. If that’s not fiction, I don’t know what the fuck is.

All my creativity is caught up in trying to pretend to be a normal middle-aged white woman so no one knows I am really a lizard.

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

Keep writing, keep reading, keep fighting the commercialization of narratives. As things grow more and more commodified, all our dreams and desires reduced to tchotchkes made in China, it’s a revolutionary act to separate your work from the marketplace. Be bold, take chances, turn the trope on its ear and kick it in the ass. Take everything the creators have done to make a work palatable to the unwashed masses and set it on fire.

Be subversive.

Be mean.

Have a great fucking time.

(Posted by Lilydale on March 2, 2021)

[itrvlr]

AN AMAZING STORY...

Here is an amazing story from a flight attendant on Delta Flight 15, written following 9-11

On the morning of Tuesday, September 11, we were about 5 hours out of Frankfurt, flying over the North Atlantic .

All of a sudden the curtains parted and I was told to go to the cockpit, immediately, to see the captain. As soon as I got there I noticed that the crew had that "All Business" look on their faces. The captain handed me a printed message. It was from Delta's main office in Atlanta and simply read, "All airways over the Continental United States are closed to commercial air traffic. Land ASAP at the nearest airport. Advise your destination."

No one said a word about what this could mean. We knew it was a serious situation and we needed to find terra firma quickly. The captain determined that the nearest airport was 400 miles behind us in Gander, New Foundland.

He requested approval for a route change from the Canadian traffic controller and approval was granted immediately -- no questions asked. We found out later, of course, why there was no hesitation in approving our request.

While the flight crew prepared the airplane for landing, another message arrived from Atlanta telling us about some terrorist activity in the New York area. A few minutes later word came in about the hijackings.

We decided to LIE to the passengers while we were still in the air. We told them the plane had a simple instrument problem and that we needed to land at the nearest airport in Gander , New Foundland, to have it checked out.

We promised to give more information after landing in Gander .. There was much grumbling among the passengers, but that's nothing new! Forty minutes later, we landed in Gander. Local time at Gander was 12:30 PM .... that's 11:00 AM EST.

There were already about 20 other airplanes on the ground from all over the world that had taken this detour on their way to the US.

After we parked on the ramp, the captain made the following announcement: "Ladies and gentlemen, you must be wondering if all these airplanes around us have the same instrument problem as we have. The reality is that we are here for another reason."

Then he went on to explain the little bit we knew about the situation in the US. There were loud gasps and stares of disbelief. The captain informed passengers that Ground control in Gander told us to stay put.

The Canadian Government was in charge of our situation and no one was allowed to get off the aircraft. No one on the ground was allowed to come near any of the air crafts. Only airport police would come around periodically, look us over and go on to the next airplane.

In the next hour or so more planes landed and Gander ended up with 53 airplanes from all over the world, 27 of which were US commercial jets.

Meanwhile, bits of news started to come in over the aircraft radio and for the first time we learned that airplanes were flown into the World Trade Center in New York and into the Pentagon in DC.

People were trying to use their cell phones, but were unable to connect due to a different cell system in Canada . Some did get through, but were only able to get to the Canadian operator who would tell them that the lines to the U.S. were either blocked or jammed.

Sometime in the evening the news filtered to us that the World Trade Center buildings had collapsed and that a fourth hijacking had resulted in a crash. By now the passengers were emotionally and physically exhausted, not to mention frightened, but everyone stayed amazingly calm.

We had only to look out the window at the 52 other stranded aircraft to realize that we were not the only ones in this predicament.

We had been told earlier that they would be allowing people off the planes one plane at a time. At 6 PM, Gander airport told us that our turn to deplane would be 11 am the next morning.

Passengers were not happy, but they simply resigned themselves to this news without much noise and started to prepare themselves to spend the night on the airplane.

Gander had promised us medical attention, if needed, water, and lavatory servicing.

And they were true to their word.

Fortunately we had no medical situations to worry about. We did have a young lady who was 33 weeks into her pregnancy. We took REALLY good care of her. The night passed without incident despite the uncomfortable sleeping arrangements.

About 10:30 on the morning of the 12th a convoy of school buses showed up. We got off the plane and were taken to the terminal where we went through Immigration and Customs and then had to register with the Red Cross.

After that we (the crew) were separated from the passengers and were taken in vans to a small hotel. We had no idea where our passengers were going. We learned from the Red Cross that the town of Gander has a population of 10,400 people and they had about 10,500 passengers to take care of from all the airplanes that were forced into Gander!

We were told to just relax at the hotel and we would be contacted when the US airports opened again, but not to expect that call for a while.

We found out the total scope of the terror back home only after getting to our hotel and turning on the TV, 24 hours after it all started.

Meanwhile, we had lots of time on our hands and found that the people of Gander were extremely friendly. They started calling us the "plane people." We enjoyed their hospitality, explored the town of Gander and ended up having a pretty good time.

Two days later, we got that call and were taken back to the Gander airport. Back on the plane, we were reunited with the passengers and found out what they had been doing for the past two days.

What we found out was incredible.....

Gander and all the surrounding communities (within about a 75 Kilometer radius) had closed all high schools, meeting halls, lodges, and any other large gathering places. They converted all these facilities to mass lodging areas for all the stranded travelers.

Some had cots set up, some had mats with sleeping bags and pillows set up.

ALL the high school students were required to volunteer theirtime to take care of the "guests."

Our 218 passengers ended up in a town called Lewisporte, about 45 kilometers from Gander where they were put up in a high school. If any women wanted to be in a women-only facility, that was arranged.

Families were kept together. All the elderly passengers were taken to private homes.

Remember that young pregnant lady? She was put up in a private home right across the street from a 24-hour Urgent Care facility.There was a dentist on call and both male and female nurses remained with the crowd for the duration.

Phone calls and e-mails to the U.S. and around the world were available to everyone once a day. During the day, passengers were offered "Excursion" trips.

Some people went on boat cruises of the lakes and harbors. Some went for hikes in the local forests.

Local bakeries stayed open to make fresh bread for the guests.

Food was prepared by all the residents and brought to the schools. People were driven to restaurants of their choice and offered wonderful meals. Everyone was given tokens for local laundry mats to wash their clothes, since luggage was still on the aircraft.

In other words, every single need was met for those stranded travelers.

Passengers were crying while telling us these stories. Finally, when they were told that U.S. airports had reopened, they were delivered to the airport right on time and without a single passenger missing or late. The local Red Cross had all the information about thewhereabouts of each and every passenger and knew

which plane they needed to be on and when all the planes were leaving. They coordinated everything beautifully.

It was absolutely incredible.

When passengers came on board, it was like they had been on a cruise. Everyone knew each other by name. They were swapping stories of their stay, impressing each other with who had the better time. Our flight back to Atlanta looked like a chartered party flight. The crew just stayed out of their way. It was mind-boggling.

Passengers had totally bonded and were calling each other by their first names, exchanging phone numbers, addresses, and email addresses.

And then a very unusual thing happened.

One of our passengers approached me and asked if he could make an announcement over the PA system. We never, ever allow that. But this time was different. I said "of course" and handed him the mike. He picked up the PA and reminded everyone about what they had just gone through in the last few days.

He reminded them of the hospitality they had received at the hands of total strangers.

He continued by saying that he would like to do something in return for the good folks of Lewisporte.

"He said he was going to set up a Trust Fund under the name of DELTA 15 (our flight number). The purpose of the trust fund is to provide college scholarships for the high school students of Lewisporte.

He asked for donations of any amount from his fellow travelers. When the paper with donations got back to us with the amounts, names, phone numbers and addresses, the total was for more than $14,000!

"The gentleman, a MD from Virginia , promised to match the donations and to start the administrative work on the scholarship. He also said that he would forward this proposal to Delta Corporate and ask them to donate as well.

As I write this account, the trust fund is at more than $1.5 million and has assisted 134 students in college education.

"I just wanted to share this story because we need good stories right now. It gives me a little bit of hope to know that some people in a faraway place were kind to some strangers who literally dropped in on them.

It reminds me how much good there is in the world."

"In spite of all the rotten things we see going on in today's world this story confirms that there are still a lot of good people in the world and when things get bad, they will come forward.

*This is one of those stories that need to be shared. Please do so...*

[btsslowburnfic]

The Arrangement Chapter 4

Series Summary: Desperately in need of money, you answered the questionable ad. AKA-Arranged marriage AU featuring Y/N and Yoongi.

Chapter Summary: The job interview continues, and Yoongi finally takes an interest

Author’s Note: I wrote a massive amount of this story last weekend and I am super happy with it. I can’t wait to share the rest of the chapters with you guys each Thursday <3 

Previous chapter here  ---------------------------------

You left Grindhouse feeling better about the job. Mostly. It was clear that Kim Namjoon, you resolved to try and use his real name in case you ended up working together, wasn’t your biggest fan but he did respect that you had researched the position. 

Parts of the job were definitely strange. The strangest part? Agreeing to get married if the client decided “he wanted to.” No pressure. Totally a normal thing.  You thought back to the interview

--------

“I’m sorry. So this is like a mail-order bride type thing?” You wrinkled your brow in confusion.

“Technically internet-order bride, and don’t make that face, it will give you wrinkles,” Namjoon replied waving his hand in front of his face.

“Ok fine. Walk me through a day in this job.”

“Huh. This is usually where half the girls laugh at me and leave.”

You awkwardly shrugged your shoulders and waited for him to answer your question.

“Wake up, check the itinerary for the day. A work schedule will be emailed to you every morning by 7 am. Ensure the client makes it to their appointments on time, accompany the client to events both domestic and international, organize small social events. Any and all of these things. Whatever the client asks for. I’m sure he’ll have work for you to do. You are also responsible for posting appropriately to social media about your burgeoning love story,” Namjoon looks boredly over at the door, surprised that Yoongi never came back.

You wrote down some notes. “ Will I be provided social media accounts? I don’t really want to use my own. “

“Yes, they would be monitored and managed by BigHit behind the scenes.”

“Ok.” You jotted a few things down. “I saw that I would be living on-premise. Would I still be able to see my family and how far away is the location?”

“Yes. The apartment is actually at BigHit Headquarters. Several floors are dedicated to staff apartments. You may see your siblings if you put in appropriate time off requests and mark yourself out. You may not skip important company events. You must also sign a nondisclosure agreement upon the beginning of the contract. Your family and everyone else can’t know you are being compensated for your role outside of personal assistant. As you can imagine, it would look bad for the company.”

“Ok. That makes sense.”

“One last question [Y/N]: Why are you so nonchalant about this job? The marriage stipulation had most of the girls running off. And I can’t tell you how many cards I handed out that never signed in.”

You pouted, “ And here I thought I was special.” You laughed dryly as he rolled his eyes. “Dude, I’m not getting any younger. Dating sucks. I might as well get paid to do it.” You flipped your hair behind your shoulders. “This is a lot of money. If I end up getting married, it’s just a piece of paper. As long as the guy’s not a total asshole I really don’t care.”

“Oh yeah?” Namjoon clicks his pen a few times, “What if he’s really ugly? Is the money good enough to make up for that?”

You don’t miss a beat, “I’m more of a personality gal myself. Which may explain why you and I aren’t exactly hitting it off,” you mused and he just laughed at you, beginning to acclimate to your dry sense of humor.

“Yeah. That’s why.” He rolled his eyes. “All  right. We’re done here. If you make it to the next round you’ll receive an email within the next few days.

----

Well that was a fucking disaster, Namjoon thought as he walked back over to the office. Three. He had started with 50 cards distributed. 20 returns. And three candidates that showed an interest after finding out more about the job. He groaned. Why had BPD thought this was a good idea? He took his phone out as he entered the lobby and to Namjoon’s absolute shock he saw that Yoongi had scheduled a meeting for the two of them that afternoon. 

Two things were extremely out of character: one that Yoongi had even scheduled a meeting at all; most of the time Yoongi had to be dragged, kicking and screaming, to the meetings. Two, that he actually took the time to put it in the agenda. He most often showed up when he felt like, walked into Namjoon’s office, bypassed a yelling Jimin, and then complained about something. 

Namjoon rode the elevator up to his floor. He didn’t get a chance to eat since the interviews had taken all of his lunch hour. He exited and walked over to Jimin. “Order me lunch. Surprise me.” 

“Of course Sir,” Jimin dutifully replied and pulled up the food ordering App. 

“Thank you. When Yoongi gets here send him on in.”

Jimin straightened up a few items on his desk, “Usually I have trouble keeping him out sir, but I understand.” Jimin was dying to know what was going on. Yoongi and Namjoon usually avoided each other but had interacted thrice now within the week. He resolved to make a coffee delivery mid-meeting. Yes. Excellent. Jimin smirked as he placed the food order and sent it. 

Namjoon took out the three remaining folders and placed them on his desk. Hopefully this meeting meant Yoongi had stopped being a little shit and decided to go along with it. He took out the paperwork he had prepared for Yoongi, a similar NDA to the one he had discussed with [Y/N].

An hour passed where he ate his lunch and caught up on emails.

Yoongi exited the elevator and lazily walked over to Jimin. “Is Namjoon ready?”

Jimin raised his delicate eyebrows. “You’re actually stopping to ask? Well that’s a first.”

Yoongi stuffed his hands into his pockets and rolled his eyes. “I’ll just head in then.”

Jimin sat there, utterly confused but also strangely excited. He ordered two coffees in preparation for his eavesdropping. Yoongi had never, ever stopped at the reception desk. Or made an appointment. Since when was he playing nice?

Jimin: GUYS. Yoongi and Namjooon are meeting for the third time this week. And Yoongi actually made an appointment.

JK: Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?

V: Are you serious?

Jimin: Yes. I’m sneaking in there in half an hour. I’ll report back.

Jimin didn’t know why he cared so much. It was just that Yoongi was such a mystery compared to the rest of the guys. He was good looking, talented, but kept to himself and seemed to resent everything and everyone else that worked there.

Yoongi opened the door to the office. Namjoon looked up from his desk, “Yoongi. You left the interviews early, I’m surprised to see you made an appointment this afternoon.”

Yoongi walked closer to the desk, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah well I had seen everything I needed to see, and heard everything I needed to hear.” He looked down at the desk. “Are those all the candidates that are left?” 

“Yes. Unsurprisingly it was difficult to explain the situation without sounding like we are running an escort service, as you can imagine.”

Yoongi had been practicing the conversation he wanted to have since he got back to the building earlier after the girl returned his headphones. “Are there any headshots included in these?” He asked, feigning nonchalance.

“Nope,” Namjoon replied, looking over the NDA. “You said you didn’t want to be, and I quote, unduly influenced by physical appearance.” 

“Huh. Ok.” Yoongi responded. He didn’t want Namjoon to know that he had met one of the women who had applied for the job. Wait. She had said she worked somewhere nearby. “Can I see the resumes?”

“Knock yourself out.” He said, pushing the papers toward the edge of the desk.

He flipped through them. The first one was a model. Nope. The second one was an office worker. The third one listed two jobs, including Club Tokki. That was the woman he had met earlier. She had gone back and completed the interview. Despite trying to school his face, he let a small smile creep across his face.

“Find something you like there?” Namjoon asked. 

“These two sound interesting.” He handed two of the folders back to Namjoon. 

Namjoon looked at the two he had kept, “Of course you dumped the model. Here we have Lisa. She’s nice. Boring but Nice. And [Y/N]. You know what? I’m not even going to tell you anything. She’s something. Let’s invite her just to see what happens.” 

Yoongi stood there for a moment, swiping his lips with his tongue. Really? It had been that easy? 

“Here. You need to sign this. It’s an NDA about the situation. As far as anybody else knows, the girl we hire is your assistant. None of this was arranged before time. Additionally, you are to tell her that you want this, not that Big Hit is forcing you to do this.”

Yoongi puffed out his cheeks, “Why does that matter if she’s in on it?”

“Plausible deniability on the company’s part I’m sure. I didn't write the contract, BPD and the attorneys did.”

Yoongi sat down and started to read through the document.

Jimin knocked lightly on the door before entering. “Coffee gentleman? I have two iced Americanos right here.” He walked towards the desk.

“Thanks Jimin, put them on the desk.” Namjoon said, standing with the files in his hand.

“Ooo am I getting a new coworker?” Jimin tried to ask casually.

“Yoongi’s getting an assistant.” Namjoon responded.

“Good maybe someone will actually answer when I call down to the studio.” Jimin quipped.

Yoongi snorted, “As if I would let her in MY studio.”

“Enjoy your coffee, Sugar,” Jimin said, purposefully pronouncing his alias incorrectly.

“It’s Suga. Thanks for the coffee.”

Jimin blinked slowly, not sure how to respond to Yoongi saying something half-nice to him and slowly exited the room.

Yoongi picked up the coffee, sipping it while he finished reading the document. “Alright. Give me the pen.”

Namjoon was excited to be moving forward on this stupid project. If it actually worked, he hoped he would have to babysit Yoongi way less. “Here you go. You need to come to the next round of interviews. I think it’s important for you to meet each other.”

“Yeah, ok.” Yoongi signed the paperwork and stood up. “Put it on the calendar. See you.”

NEXT CHAPTER

Taglist:  @lidda​ @anpanman-sonyeondan​ @firefairy1​

[gstqaobc]

FROM THE MONARCHIST LEAGUE OF CANADA

As this Ecomm went to publication, we received word of the death, at the great age of 96, of Bill Silver, a significant benefactor of the League from its early days, and for many years a pillar of our Ottawa Branch.  We wished to remember him here: his ebullient spirit, fierce loyalty spoken gently, innate modesty and kindness.  Indeed Chaucer might have had forethought of Bill in describing one of his characters as a “very parfitt gentle knight.” May his ardent spirit rest in peace, and his memory be a blessing and example to us all.   LEAGUE ISSUES NEW FLYER: THE CASE FOR THE CROWN The League thought it timely and useful to issue, offer in its advertising and distribute as widely as possible - both via the website and in printed form - a new flyer which will give you, our members, ammunition to argue logically the case for the Crown in conversation with others, and, we hope, to distribute strategically. One never knows when such an item, left on a waiting room table at the doctor or dentist’s office, affixed to a supermarket or other community bulletin board, put through neighbours’ mail slots - the possibilities are many - will do good work for our cause. We hope you will both enjoy and profit from this item, and that many thousands will be distributed across the country. See item one in the WHAT CAN I DO FOR THE CANADIAN CROWN? section of this Ecomm, below, to read online and request printed copies.   And special thanks to our wonderful team of no less than seven translators, all francophones from La Belle Province, who so kindly volunteered to make the French version one that is accurate in expression and eloquent in its prose.                     WHAT CAN I DO FOR THE CANADIAN CROWN? Some suggestions for member activity during these times. We invite members to send additional ideas by return of email. 1.    How about asking the League to send you several print copies of our new flyer:  THE CASE FOR THE CROWN, or print them on your home computer:  https://www.monarchist.ca/index.php/publications and give them to others who may be unaware or sceptical of the importance of Canada’s constitutional monarchy, or even hostile to it. School teachers could be encouraged to read the League’s educational booklets, also available both online and in print at the same URL, or even to request a class set.   2.    When you read an editorial, opinion column or letter to the editor in a newspaper, or a tweet or Facebook post, critical of the Crown, don’t get mad - get even! In other words, use a temperate tone and logical argument to refute the writer’s attack.  Keep it brief: focus on the obvious flaws in reasoning, mis-statements of fact or name-calling substituting for logic.  Same goes for radio talk shows. In the long run, on all media, whatever the provocation, whatever the momentary satisfaction of ”giving them a piece of my mind” - an old adage remains true: “You catch more flies with honey.” 3.    Write your elected representative at the federal level to re-state briefly the reasons you support constitutional monarchy as our system of government,  and asking the MP whether not your view is shared. 4.    Once pandemic restrictions ease, try to make sure that Royal events - such as the upcoming 95th birthday of our Queen, 10th Wedding Anniversary of William and Catherine or 100th birthday of Prince Philip are celebrated both in your home but also among your wider family, your friends, your colleagues at the office,  your place of worship/faith community or service club. The League generally sends you some ideas to mark these celebrations. Remember, as they are incorporated into family life and public life, the     Crown becomes further embedded in the heart of the nation, and truly represents The Queen’s wish that it ”reflects all that is best and most admired in the Canadian ideal.” This is especially true when you go out of your way to include in your observance the newest members of our Canadian family, who generally are eager to participate in the traditions of their new homeland, and in turn to share their own traditions with the wider community. 5.    Always use a Queen stamp when you write a letter or pay a bill by mail. 6.     At events of ceremony, whether a Council meeting, a graduation, a civic celebration - whatever - make sure that the Royal Anthem is sung as well as the National Anthem. To the extent you can, discourage event organizers from having a soloist “perform” them. Far more pride and         learning develop from the untrained voices of loyal folk singing together. In that way, the Anthems are sung “with heart and voice” and not merely listened to.   A FINAL IDEA: AN ACT OF LOVING SUPPORT & THANKS Apart from the above, we think it would be enormously comforting and supportive for every one of us to  write a kind letter to The Queen, expressing your thoughts at a difficult time: her beloved husband ailing, a grand-child chiding other family members via sensational television, the drumbeat of the tabloids and the restrictions on her busy life caused by the pandemic.  A selection of letters, especially those from Commonwealth Realms, are indeed seen by The Queen - and their number and tone are summarized to Her Majesty. The address is - Her Majesty The Queen, Buckingham Palace, London SW1A 1AA, UK Theoretically you don’t need postage to write the Sovereign; in practice, it is safer to affix the international airmail stamp available from your local Canada Post outlet.   AN INTERESTING OPINION PIECE FROM TODAY’S DAILY TELEGRAPHWe thought you might be interested to see the following strongly-worded opinion piece, reflecting a good deal of the tone of recent British public opinion, rather different from much of the Canadian and US commentary. Meghan’s fake interview has real-world effects The Sussexes’ claims have undermined the monarchy and done lasting damage to the Commonwealth by Tim Stanley, March 15, 2021 Two headlines appeared on the BBC News website on the same day. At the top: “Harry and Meghan rattle monarchy’s gilded cage”. At the bottom: “The kidnapped woman who defied Boko Haram”. Well, that puts the Sussexes' problems in perspective, doesn’t it? Yet across Africa, one reads, the Duchess’s story has revived memories of colonial racism, tarnishing the UK’s reputation, and has even lent weight to the campaign in some countries to drop the Queen as head of state. The only nation that seems to think a lot of nonsense was spoken is Britain. In the wake of an interview that Joe Biden’s administration called courageous, British popular opinion of Harry and Meghan fell to an all-time low, and the American format had a lot to do with it. Oprah Winfrey is not our idea of an interviewer. She flattered, fawned and displayed utter credulity. Imagine if it had been her, not Emily Maitlis, who interviewed Prince Andrew over the Jeffrey Epstein allegations. “You were in a Pizza Express that day? Oh my God, you MUST be innocent! Tell me, in all honesty, though...did you have the dough balls?” This wasn’t an interview, it was a commercial for a brand called Sussex, a pair of eco-friendly aristo-dolls that, if you pull the string, tell their truth – which isn’t the truth, because no one can entirely know that, but truth as they perceive it. “Life is about storytelling,” explained Meghan, “about the stories we tell ourselves, the stories we’re told, what we buy into.” Meghan is a postmodernist. Just as Jean Baudrillard said the Gulf War never happened, but was choreographed by the US media, so the Royal narrative she was forced to live was fake, her public happiness was fake and, following that logic, this interview might involve an element of performance, too. People have challenged her claims, alleging contradictions and improbabilities, but one of the malign effects of wokeness is that you have got to be very careful about pointing this out. Why? Because wokery insists on treating a subjective view as objective truth, or even as superior, because it’s based upon “lived experience”. To contradict that personal perspective is perceived as cruel, elitist and, in Meghan’s case, potentially racist, so it’s best to wait a few weeks to a year before applying a fact check. In the meantime, affect sympathy. People would rather you lied to their face than tell them what they don’t want to hear. The result is profoundly dishonest, for I have never known an event over which there is such a gulf between the official reception, as endorsed by the media and politics, and the reaction of average citizens, who are wisely keeping it to themselves. Into that vacuum of silence steps not the voice of reason but bullies and showmen – like Piers Morgan, who said some brash stuff about Meghan’s honesty and, after an unseemly row on Good Morning Britain, felt obliged to resign from his job.  “If you’d like to show your support for me,” he wrote afterwards, “please order a copy of my book.” Dear Lord, was this row fake, too? I can no longer be sure, though I despised Good Morning Britain before and still do: it embodies the cynical confusion of emotion and fact, a show made for clicks, where even the weatherman has an opinion. So what is real in 2021? The Commonwealth, which does a lot of good in a divided world. The monarchy, which has been at its best during the pandemic, doing the boring stuff of cutting ribbons and thanking workers that, one suspects, Meghan never grew into (can you imagine her opening a supermarket in Beccles?). It contains flawed people, but that only adds to its realness, and they can adapt faster than you might think. Prince William got the ball rolling by telling reporters, who he is trained to ignore, that his family is not racist. His wife paid her respects to the murder victim Sarah Everard, demonstrating that she is neither cold nor silenced. I’d wager Kate does her duty, day after day, no complaint, not because she is “trapped”, as Harry uncharitably put it, but because she loves her family and believes in public service. Meghan and Harry have indeed prompted the Royal family to change: not in order to endorse their criticisms, however, but to answer them.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

[atlafan]

happy belated mother's day!!! I was thinking, perhaps harry is an insurance agent and y/n calls to complain about her policy. perhaps y/n needs to bundle her home and auto policies. anyways, y/n likes talking to harry so much she keeps finding different things to call him about. and perhaps he likes talking to her too so he keeps calling her to follow up on her feedback for his services. just thoughts. THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE, MOM

a/n: MY SWEET ANGEL BABY YET AGAIN YOUVE GIVEN BE A BRILLIANT IDEA! THANK YOU!

Safety First

“What the fuck?! This can’t be right.” You groaned as you looked at your new auto policy that came in the mail. 

It was about $200 higher than it was last year, which made absolutely no sense to you. You hadn’t gotten into accidents, and you hadn’t bought a new car. There simply had to be a mistake. Usually your dad helped you with these kinds of things, but since he had passed away a year ago, he couldn’t exactly call the insurance agent

You dial the number and wait for someone to answer.

“Safety Auto Insurance, this is Harry.” 

“Hi Harry, this is Y/F/N Y/L/N, I got mailed my new auto policy for this year and it’s wrong.”

“Oh hi. Y/N!” Harry knew exactly who you were. His mother owned the insurance company, and he remembers your dad quite well. 

Harry never thought he’d end up working the family business, but he actually liked selling insurance and helping people with their claims. 

“How are you?”

“Um...not good Harry, my policy went up $200! That can’t be correct!”

“Okay, let me just look everything up for you so I can see what happened.”

You hear typing and a few clicks. You can hear him reading to himself. You sigh heavily as you continue to wait. 

“Ah! I see what happened, my sister added in the Rental Car option for you. It’s so if you end up needing another car-”

“I know what it’s for, and I’ve refused the service before. I’d still have to pay a fee if I rented a car, I’m two years away from being twenty-six. Please remove it.”

“Certainly.”

“I don’t appreciated you guys just sneakily adding things in.” You huff.

“I don’t think that was Gem’s intention, Y/N.”

“And what was she doing renewing my policy? You’re my insurance agent, Harry, not her.”

“I see, so you only want me taking care of you?” He clears his throat. “Taking care of things for you, I mean.” 

“Yes. You’re the one that used to take care of things with my father, not her. You know my family better.”

“Technically my mum knows your family better...”

“Yeah, well, you took over for her didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Alright then.” You hear a few more clicks and typing sounds.

“Okay, I took the rental option out. I’ll mail you a new paper copy, and email it to you as well.”

“Thank you. I usually just pay for half up front, can I do that on the phone with you now?”

“Sure!” 

//

Harry always liked when you’d come in with your dad. Your dad would often tell his mum about how you were doing in high school, and then in college. You would always blush and tell him to stop. You would always just ask to get your car back on the road already. You loved driving. Harry rarely got to speak with you, but he got to speak with you dad a lot. He was a nice guy, but much like you, he didn’t take any bullshit. 

Harry noticed that your address had changed. It seems as though you had moved out of your house and into an apartment, and didn’t have renters insurance yet. You could save a lot of money by bundling, so Harry took the excuse to call you. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, Y/N, it’s Harry from Safety Insurance. Is now a good time?”

“That depends, are you trying to sell me something?” You hear him chuckle softly. 

“Sort of, but just hear me out before you hang up, yeah?”

“Alright.”

“Did you move recently? I noticed on your last statement that your address changed.”

“Yeah, I was finally able to get an apartment in the city.” 

“That’s great! Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

“Have you looked into renters insurance yet?”

“Not really...isn’t that just a scam?”

“Not exactly, it can be really helpful if someone broke in, or if your place flooded or caught on fire. Or like if a tree branch broke your window, stuff like that. You can actually save a lot of money by bundling.” 

“Do you call all your clients like this?”

“You told me you wanted me taking care of your things, so here I am doing that before other agencies try to swindle you. Your dad bundled with us too, if that makes any difference.”

“I’ll have to come in so you can walk me through everything, this is too much over the phone, you know?” You couldn’t see it, but Harry had a huge smile on his face at the thought of you coming in.

“That works for me. Let’s set up a time for you to come in.” 

//

You weren’t thrilled to be using your Friday afternoon to go hang out with your insurance guy, but the more you thought about it, the more you figured renters insurance was a good idea. When you walked in, you had wished you dressed a little nicer. You had a messy bun on the top of your head, some jeans a t-shirt on. No makeup, no nothing really. You saw Harry laughing over something with is his sister. It had been a long time since you had stepped foot in here. You hadn’t realized how handsome Harry had gotten. 

“Y/N!” He beams when he turns to see who it was that came through the door. “It’s great to see you.” He extends his hand to shake yours. 

“Um, it’s great to see you too.”

“Let’s go use the office in the back. Gemma’s got some clients comin’ in and I fear it’ll get too loud out here in the open area.”

“Okay.” 

You wave to Gemma and follow Harry in the back. He gestures for you to sit, and he goes around the desk to sit in his chair. He grabs some papers and puts them in front of you. 

“Right, so, we’re talkin’ about bundling home and auto today?”

“That’s what you called me about...” He hums his response and flips to a page to show you some figures and what adding renters insurance would mean. 

After an hour or so of him explaining things, and you trying to understand, he convinced you to bundle your home an auto.

“Your payments won’t change much since you already paid for so much in advance. I hope this gives you some peace of mind, and you don’t feel like I was trying to just get more money out of you.”

“I did at first, but everything you said made sense.” You shrug. “I’m sure my dad would be at peace knowing I’m being extra careful.”

“He used to talk about you all the time whenever he’d come in here. I think he liked doing everything face to face.”

“God, it was always so embarrassing whenever I’d come in with him to put my car back on the road.” You groan. 

“No, it was sweet. We’re a family business, so it was nice to see another close family.” 

“How’s your mum been?”

“She’s loving the retired life that’s for sure. Gem and I like runnin’ the place. Of course sometimes we have that needy clients that don’t like it when she and I switch places from time time.” He smirks.

“Needy, huh? As I recall, you called me for this specific thing.”

“Only after you insisted on me being the one to handle any and all things that had to do with you.”

“Not just me, my mom too.”

“How’s she been...?”

“She’s started to go out on dates again which has been nice for her. Nothing serious of course, I think she just likes the company. I felt bad for moving out, but it was time. It was too depressing being reminded that he wasn’t gonna be walking through the door after work.” Your voice crack and he hands you a tissue. “Thanks.”

“Sorry...I shouldn’t have pressed. I know things are still really fresh.”

“It’s okay. Some days are just easier than others that’s all.” You look at your watch. “Well, I’ve taken up a lot of your time. I’m sure you have plans or something tonight.” You stand up and shake his hand. He follows you you. 

“Actually, I, uh, don’t have plans...”

“Oh, well, I’m sure you’d like to get home at any rate.”

Gemma makes a gesture to Harry to just go for it.

“Y/N?” He grabs your wrist and you look at him a little surprised. 

“Yes?”

“Do you have plans tonight?” 

“Um.” You look down at your schlubby appearance. “No.”

“Well, if you wouldn’t mind waiting, I just need like thirty minutes to wrap some things up for the weekend...”

“And what would I be waiting for exactly?” 

“I was sort of wondering if you’d like to grab a bite to eat...” 

“You wanna take me to dinner to dinner?” 

“Well...yeah.” 

“Oh.” You think to yourself for a second. You needed to change. There was no way you were gonna go out looking like this. You still had some things at your mom’s house. That would be faster than going all the way to your apartment. “Okay, but I need to go change...I could meet you back here in an hour if that works.”

“Sounds great.” 

You smile at him and leave. Harry turns to Gemma, and she gives him a thumbs up as he goes to sit down at his desk. 

//

“Hi honey!” You mom says to you as you come flying into the house.

“Can’t talk, I think I have a date!” You run up the stairs and she follows you. 

“With?!”

“Harry Styles.” You mumble as you enter your old bedroom.

“Oh, that nice boy from the insurance company.”

“He’s not a boy anymore mom, he’s like, a man now. And super cute. I went into bundle my policy, looking like this, and he asked me out. I couldn’t believe it.”

“Oh, I can. His face would always go bright red any time we’d bring you in with us.” She laughs. “Him and his sister have taken over the business now right?”

“Mhm.” You find a nice sun dress hanging in your closet and right now you’re thankful you left it there. “I need to borrow some makeup, there’s no helping my hair.”

“Honey, I’m sure he doesn’t care how you look.”

“I know, but if we’re going to dinner I’d like to look somewhat put together.” 

“Your father always liked Harry, I’m sure he’d be thrilled you’re going out with him.” 

You smile at your mom and get ready. You had back to Safety Insurance and go inside. Harry and Gemma turn to look at you.

“Well, look who got all dolled up for my little brother.” Gemma jokes. “You two kids have fun.” She waves you and Harry off as you leave the building. 

“Wanna take my car?” He asks. “I can drop you off here after.”

“Sure, that sounds nice.” 

You get into his car. It’s a bit awkward at first, so he tries talking.

“What are you in the mood for?” He asks.

“Oh, anything’s fine, I’m not picky.”

“How about Joe’s Grill?”

“Sounds great! I haven’t been there in forever.” 

He drives you there, and you both go inside. Things are still a little awkward when you get sat at your table. A waitress comes over to give you some water, and leaves. 

“Harry...”

“Yeah?”

“Why’d you ask me to dinner?”

“Um, well, to be honest I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while, but I just figured you had a boyfriend or something. I also didn’t know if it would just be weird in general...”

“It’s a little weird.” You giggle. “I feel like I’ve known you for years, but at the same time I have no idea who you are.” 

“Yeah, it’s like, we’ve been acquaintances for years, but you and I never really spoke.” 

“Exactly.” 

You each order a burger and a drink, and keep chatting. You get to know him a little better, and you tell him what you do for work.

“Wow, it must be nice having an entire summer off.”

“It is! It’s definitely a perk to being a teacher.” 

Harry was a really nice guy, and he had a great sense of humor. He drops you off back at your car, and you thank him for a nice evening.

//

A few days had gone by and he hadn’t heard from you. He wasn’t sure if he should be the one to reach out or not. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, Y/N...it’s Harry, uh, from Safety Insurance...”

“Ah, so this is a business call?” You joke, and he laughs. 

“Well, I wanted to see how your renters insurance was treating you.”

“Haven’t had a disaster yet, so that’s good.”

“That is good!” He takes a deep breath. “Did you, um, have a nice time the other night?��

“I did.”

“Oh, good, so did I.”

“I’m happy to hear that.” He can feel his face heating up. 

“Could I...see you again sometime?”

“Well, that depends.”

“On?”

“Would it be for an insurance thing, or to actually take me out?”

“To actually take you out of course. I think I’ve gotten you down for just about everything you need on the business end.” 

“I won’t be free until Saturday.”

“Saturday works! Would you want to meet up in the afternoon and take a walk on the beach?”

“I’d love to.”

“Great, uh, this is your cell phone number, right?”

“No, this is a land line.”

“It is?!”

“I’m joking!”

“Oh!” You both laugh. 

“Of course it’s a cell phone, why?”

“Well, I was just wondering if it would be alright if I called sometime you from my own phone, and not my work phone.”

“Yeah, of course it would.”

“Alright then...well...I’m sure we’ll speak before then, but I’ll see you Saturday!”

“See you Saturday, Harry.” 

[kikis-writing-world]

Hey beloved! Congrats on 300! Your talent seriously speaks for itself! I'm so excited to see what other works you make!

A little about me? My name is Camille (Cami). I consider myself a relatively small but mighty woman. I've got quite the bit of sass and sarcasm to back me up. I used to kickbox in a professional gym but have since stopped because my shoulders and knees said "no 💖." Nowadays I spend my time writing, practicing calligraphy and drawing! When it comes to relationships, I'd say I'm either controlling or easy-going depending on the day. (Basically I'm A chaotic switch in and out of the bedroom—this is the official invite for you to make things spicy should you elect to 😂). There's really not any tropes I lean towards or against. I would say that I tend to think I don't have a romantic bone in my body BUT I'm a sucker for love letters so I guess that disproves my point 😂 I can't wait to see what you come up with! Congrats again! 💖

Oh wow, thank you so much 😳 I would ship you with Max Phillips. Yeah, he’s a douchebag, but he’s kinda your douchebag. You’re gonna sass and sarcasm him into submission (which he’s totally into, let’s be real) and if that doesn’t work, you’re just gonna pull out that kickboxing knowledge. You’re not gonna kill him with it, but you can definitely make him hurt for a minute. He’s a total switch in my book as well, so that works out. He’s happy to take control, but he’s also so happy to let you take control too.

You’re a sucker for love letters huh? Well I guess that means we’re putting you in a She Loves Me/You’ve Got Mail AU! You and Max work together and ooooh he drives you absolutely fucking crazy!!! He’s just the. worst. You’d stake him if it didn’t mean a mess of paperwork for HR. You make sure to give as good as you get though. If you have to put up with him, then he’s gonna have to put up with you too!

Because you’re so busy at work and haven’t had a chance to go out dating, you join a service where you’re sending messages anonymously. There’s a few guys you talk to but it fizzles out. However, the guy with user name CorpDrac and you have a lot in common: He talks about working a lot too, which is why he’s using the site. He reads in his spare time and is a big fan of classics. He tries to stay active, and he has a sarcastic wit that makes you laugh. You have no idea who he is, only signs his emails with M.

You finally arrange a meet-up with the guy, and of course Max asks you to work late. You flat out tell him no, but he says you have to. Well, when he leaves, so do you. You rush home to get ready, and grab the book you said you’d bring. M is supposed to recognize you because you bring a copy of Bram Stoker’s Dracula. When Max shows up, you beg him to go away because he’s going to scare off the guy you’re here to see - and how did he even know you left the office? How did he know where you were going?! He finally does leave, but CorpDrac never shows up.

You don’t go to work the next day and Max comes by your place. You’re annoyed and barely entertain him, asking him to leave. He apologizes for ruining your date and leaves you with some ice cream he brought for you. You kinda can’t believe he was being nice to you... which he continues to do for the next few days at work. It’s weird, and you almost wonder if he’s sick.

You message CorpDrac asking for a reason why he stood you up. He answers back that he got scared and that you’re too good for him. You’re hurt and annoyed, but try to push him from your mind... A day or two later Max asks for help with something on his computer. You’re looking over his shoulder and a window pops open to the site you’re on... it’s his homepage and his account is CorpDrac?!?! You’re shocked and you ask him why. He admits he didn’t know it was you until he went to the restaurant and then he felt awful. He realized he’d been treating you like shit and that you’d never want him the way he wants you. You’d never believe the side of him he showed in the letters over the corporate asshole he can be. You can see he’s being genuine and it surprises you. You admit you’ve been just as bad and ask if he’d like to give a date a try. He agrees and it’s actually a pretty freaking good date - even if you have to lay off the garlic a bit.

Post with the rules and possible tropes here. Join in the fun!

[the-magnus-backlogs]

Statement of Suzanna Harkness regarding a manuscript she reviewed for publishing.

Statement taken direct from subject, 27th December 1993.

You wind up stumbling down a lot of weird rabbit holes when you work for a small press long enough. Niche genres you’d really rather remain oblivious to, arts majors trying to break the mould by submitting something they swear up and down you’ll have ‘never seen before’. Never mind if it’s actually legible, but that’s…that’s another matter, I guess. I’m not here to talk about the subpar sci-fi erotica or whatever, I’m here because I found something weird.

I’d like to say right off the bat that I’ve got a strong stomach. Wouldn’t have lasted this long in the company if I didn’t. We only publish a couple hundred books a year, but we take in all sorts around here. Sometimes it feels like our only real submission requirements are ‘unmarketable to the general public’, and it seems like anybody with a half-baked idea is willing to try their luck at tossing their unedited manuscript into the ring.

That’s where I come in. Wading through the mountains of unusable garbage, hunting for hidden gems. I’ve even found a couple, but mostly it’s just about finding something readable. Or something we can pass off as being readable for those rare readers capable of ‘comprehending the author’s artistic vision’. Yeah, the marketing team winds up throwing phrases like that around a lot.

Maybe I’m being unfair. I was a lot more patient about that sort of thing when I started. So preoccupied with not coming across as judgemental, but I’ve worked in publishing over ten years now.

It used to be more common for us to get manuscripts sent in through the post, back then. Nowadays it’s pretty much all done online. A couple we get from literary agents, but most are just emailed in by aspiring writers who stumbled across our site, usually after receiving their rejection letters from the two dozen publishing houses that show up above us on pretty much any search engine.

Every once in a blue moon, though, a manilla envelope will find its way onto my desk. Some bright spark who thinks they’re above using a laptop decides to send their manuscript in the old fashioned way. Sometimes it’s just a precaution in case we somehow miss the half dozen emails they’ve already sent out to every listed staff member on the site. Hell, sometimes it’s written by typewriter.

You know typewriters require special paper to print? Special ink, too. They probably spend more writing the damn thing than they’ll ever see in royalties, but to each their own, I guess. I even got one handwritten, once. The idiot sent a follow-up a month later anxiously asking if he could have it back if we weren’t going to consider it because it was his only copy. Can you imagine? Mailing off the only copy of your handwritten manuscript to some backroom small press without any insurance.

By comparison, this manuscript was relatively normal. It had been typed, I think. The paper was…I guess it was sort of crumpled, but I didn’t think much of it at the time. The postal service isn’t always the most careful about this sort of thing, and it wasn’t really packaged properly. Just shoved loose in a box and shipped out.

It was pre-bound. Just a bundle of papers held together with a few strands of red string. A little unusual, but not exactly throwing up any red flags. Even when I started reading it, I didn’t know. How the hell could I have?

It was good, though. Maybe that should have been my first clue. The prose dragged on a bit, but hey. There are plenty of successful writers out there who probably could have benefited from a harsher editor. They made up for it, in my opinion. Even just skimming those first few pages, I was hooked. Didn’t even really realise it when I was due my lunch break. I was so focused on that damn book.

The visuals were the thing. Plenty of writers can pour out half decent prose, but something about this writer…they had a way of making it feel real, you know? All the little touches, the scenes they crafted from the ground up. It felt…it felt like I couldn’t stop reading. Even if I’d wanted to, and trust me, back then I didn’t.

I didn’t leave my office that day. Barely noticed it when the phone rang, ignored all my emails. I really, really thought we’d accidentally stumbled on a gold mind. Not just a passable debut novel, but an honest to god genuine talent.

The funny thing is, I can’t even really remember what it was that drew me in. Couldn’t tell you what genre it fell under. The plot itself was practically non-existent. A girl who dreamed of being a dancer and crept out of her house to practice under the moonlight in a clearing in the forest behind her house.

Then, one blissful night, illuminated by the full moon, the forest provided her with a partner. The partner.

Nothing too out there, right? Your basic fantasy-romance type stuff. Pretty tame compared to a lot of what we publish, but I was enthralled from the first description of their first dance. Barefoot and so light on her feet her toes barely skimmed the dew-slick grass. They loved each other, and in that moment, I think I understood that. Really knew what it was to love someone so much you’d offer them your still beating heart if it would mean holding onto them for just a second longer.

Except it wasn’t love. Not really. It was an obsession.

I couldn’t stop devouring page after page as their budding romance grew and spiralled, twisting into something unrecognisable. Those whispered words of I can’t live without you became their mantra as they clung to one another so tightly they left bruises on one another’s skin. Soft kisses turned sharp as they came to understand what it was to need to consume and be consumed. They needed one another in a way neither could truly provide. Not really.

In their despair, they begged the forest to offer them a solution, and it gave them one. A way to lie in the sweet summer meadow forever, and in their glee they didn’t think to ask what it would cost.

Not until they began to rot, anyway.

My memories around here get a little hazy, or maybe the words were just less clear. The writing seemed…hurried towards the end, but the couple didn’t seem to mind much when the insects began to burrow through their skin and make their homes inside. They had so much love to give, literally brimming with it. As sickening as it was, it sounded almost…fond. Like the writer truly wanted to give them the happy ending they deserved, but somehow couldn’t think of anything more befitting than allowing their decaying corpses to be infested with creepy crawlies.

It was sick. The concept was sick. Everything about it was sick, but even now I can’t truly convey how vividly they described it. The picture they painted was so clear. Even the affection the insects lavished upon them as they crawled and burrowed through their decaying flesh. It was…God, it used to make me sick just thinking about it, you know that?

Because it wasn’t enough that I had to read it. That I physically couldn’t tear my eyes away. I had to see it. The idea of it…It got its hooks in deep.

By the time I got to the end, I was at a loss for what to do with the manuscript. On the one hand it was probably one of the best written pieces we’d ever received, and there are plenty of twisted readers out there looking for something to churn their stomach.

Somehow it didn’t feel right to publish it, though. I’ve read body horror before, but this…It wasn’t right. I couldn’t…I couldn’t just inflict that on people. How do you make someone understand, truly understand, when they’re signing up to read something that won’t ever let them go? How do you make them understand that the words they’re paying you to read will imprint themselves against the backs of their eyelids? That they’ll grow and spread and fester.

I dream about that dancer in the moonlit meadow. The descriptions of her actual appearance were relatively scarce, but I can still see her face when I close my eyes. I see her intertwined with her dance partner, caked in a mossy fungus that failed to disguise the living hive crawling beneath their skin. I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins, anymore. Not even sure if I could tell them apart looking at them, what with their withered skin being so covered in filth and grime.

That damned book made it sound like something beautiful, but their beauty decayed with their childish notions of romance. They chose to become hollow husks of themselves to make room for the love they could no longer contain, but that’s…that’s not love. It can’t be…right?

So why can’t I stop thinking about the way their fingers intertwined before rigor mortis set in and cemented their bond forever?

I can’t concentrate on anything else anymore. At first it was just a niggling seed of doubt at the back of my mind, but it’s grown so much since then. That image burrowed so deep inside my mind turned its hungry mouth towards the parts of me which were most vulnerable, eating and eating and eating and eating until I could think of nothing else.

I don’t know why I never thought to burn it. Maybe I was worried it would make it worse. Maybe it felt too much like sacrilege. I never read it again after that first time, though I considered it often. It sat on my desk while my other assignments lay scattered around it, disregarded without a second thought. After all, there was no room left in my mind for anything else anymore. Every other passage I tried to read just seemed so…dry. So false. I used to get so invested in the lives of paper people, but now I know what true love is, how could the half-baked notions of romance ever compare?  I tried at first, but by the end I just…stared at it. Waiting.

Maybe if I’d tried to destroy it…Too late now, I suppose. I never let it see the printing presses, but I did let it go in the end. Some old man came in asking for it specifically. Something about it being a collectable.

I don’t know how an unpublished manuscript could be considered a collector’s item, and frankly I didn’t ask. I’m not sure if I even really cared about what he’d do with it by that point. Did it bother me that I might be condemning him to share my fate? It doesn’t now, I know that much.

It’s…I was hoping this might help me clear things up, but I just couldn’t see any of it straight. I can’t see anything, anymore. Not really. It may have started in my dreams, but once I let her in…They’re everywhere, now. I saw him in the faces of my colleagues before the press finally let me go… I don’t remember how long ago now. I think the power company cut the power at some point. It doesn’t matter now.

The funny thing is, I really thought they cared about me. They did, at first. I think. It all sort of blurs together, but I remember how they used to talk about me when they thought I couldn’t hear. The nervous looks they’d send me when I zoned out at my desks. Then they staged their first intervention, and I saw it. I saw her. It was the man I saw painted across the features of everyone I knew, in the arches of eyebrows and slants of cheekbones, but it was her I saw reflected in their eyes.

It was her I saw in the mirror, before they ran out of space inside my skull, and the maggots took my eyes…or maybe I imagined that part too.

I’m pretty sure it’s too late for me now, but when I heard about you guys I figured it was worth a shot. I’m full of it. Whatever that feverish contagion that claimed the couple was. That sickly, rotting thing they mistook for love. I can feel it now. I can understand it now and it’s so much. Already I’m on the brink of bursting with it, I think.

I just can’t wait to share.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

Heather Cox Richardson

My house is blissfully quiet, but my ears are still ringing.

The first presidential debate of 2020 was unlike anything we have seen before. CNN’s Jake Tapper said: "That was a hot mess, inside a dumpster fire, inside a train wreck." "He was his own tweets come to life." “We’ll talk about who won the debate, who lost the debate ... One thing for sure, the American people lost.” Conservative pundit William Kristol called it “a spectacle… an embarrassment… a disgrace… because of the behavior of one man, Donald Trump. The interrupting and the bullying, the absence of both decency and dignity—those were Donald Trump’s distinctive contributions to the evening, and they gave the affair the rare and sickening character of a national humiliation.”

Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?

In a normal presidential debate, both candidates try to explain their policy proposals, jab at their opponent, and convince undecided voters to move in their direction. If this had been a normal presidential debate, its weight would have fallen on Trump, who is significantly behind Biden, to win voters. Biden’s goal would simply have been not to lose anyone.

If we were calling this like a normal presidential debate, Trump lost. He did not move the needle in his direction. Biden won; he did not lose anyone.

But this was not a normal presidential debate.

Trump long ago gave up the pretense that he wanted to win a majority of voters. For months now, he has made no effort to reach outside of his base. Instead he has focused on solidifying and radicalizing it. As his trade war with China and the coronavirus has weakened his support, he has given massive grants to farmers, promised checks to 33 million elderly to help pay for prescriptions, splashed transportation grants around, and recently even offered grants to lobstermen who have lost business because of the trade war.

Trump set out tonight not to convince undecided voters to support him, but rather to harden his supporters and encourage them to disrupt the election so he can contest the results until the solution goes to the Supreme Court where he hopes a majority will rule in his favor. He laid it all out tonight.

His performance was no accident. He came out determined to dominate the debate in much the same way as Fox News Channel personalities or talk radio hosts dominate their shows. He interrupted, argued, lied, and generally sucked the oxygen out of the room. He cheated, refusing to follow the rules that he had agreed to, thus demonstrating that he would not be bound by the rules everyone else had to live by. He bullied moderator Chris Wallace of the Fox News Channel into repeatedly appeasing him by saying, for example, “Mr. President you’re going to be very happy, because we’re going to talk about law and order,” and “Let me ask — sir, you’ll be happy, I’m about to pick up on one of your points to ask the vice president.” Trump was attempting to demonstrate his dominance.

He went on to echo the grievances and lies that his supporters have come to believe. Ignoring the more than 200,000 Americans dead of Covid-19, he insisted he was the victim of Democrats’ lies about the disease. When Wallace tried to rein him in, he attacked him for being unfair, although Wallace never once fact-checked Trump’s lies.

If Trump had a strategy at all that involved voters, it was to try to keep them from backing Biden. Trump kept yelling at him about “Law & Order,” as he likes to tweet, and kept trying to drive a wedge between Biden and the more progressive wing of the Democratic Party, finally saying to him: “You just lost the left.”

Trump tipped his hand, though, when Wallace asked: "Are you willing, tonight, to condemn white supremacists and militia groups and to say that they need to stand down?” Trump demanded names of such groups, and Wallace named, among others, the Proud Boys, the hate group that helped to organize the riot in Charlottesville, Virginia. After hedging, Trump finally answered: "Proud Boys, stand back and stand by! But I'll tell you what, somebody's got to do something about antifa and the left." "That's my president," the head of the Proud Boys posted on the social media chair that will still host them. Within an hour the group had new shoulder patches designed with the words “Stand Back and Stand By.”

Trump called for his supporters to act as poll watchers to prevent a fraudulent vote. He is losing badly in Pennsylvania, a state he needs, and tonight he lied that Philadelphia election officials refused to permit his poll watchers to observe voting. “Bad things happen in Philadelphia,” he said, “bad things.” The truth is that seven satellite offices where voters can register and apply to vote, complete, and drop off mail in ballots opened in Philadelphia. Poll watchers are not allowed because there is no polling taking place. Trump’s calls for poll watchers are pretty clearly calls for voter intimidation.

Tonight, again, Trump refused to commit to accepting a Biden victory, saying that he could not agree to fraudulent results. He suggested the election could take months to solve, and that he “definitely” wants the Supreme Court, including his new nominee Amy Coney Barrett, to “look at the ballots.” (Democrats have said Barrett should recuse herself from any election-related cases; Republicans say that is “absurd.”)

It was a performance designed to show a strong man who is calling out his armed supporters to enable him to seize an election he cannot win freely.

But Trump performed as he did because it’s all he’s got. He has no policies, no platform, no plans that he can sell to the American people, and no attention span either to govern or to explain how he wants to govern. So his only option is to dominate. Even he knows that ploy is a desperate one. Tonight’s tell was actually in his dominance play itself: overt bullying like he displayed tonight is actually a sign of weakness and abuse, not of true power.

The bar for Biden going into this debate was low: since he is so far ahead, he simply needed not to lose votes. But he did well. First of all, he managed to retain his train of thought, which was no easy thing with Trump interrupting and lying and yelling, clearly trying to derail him and, at the very least, bring out his stutter. He put to rest Trump’s insistence that he is failing mentally.

Despite Trump, Biden also managed to explain some of his policies, too, as well as pointing out that more than 200,000 Americans have died on Trump’s watch, and that he has done the economy no favors. Under Trump, he said, America has become “weaker, sicker, poorer, more divided and more violent.”

But Biden’s strongest moments were ones Trump teed up. When Biden defended our troops from Trump’s “losers” and “suckers” comments, citing his son, Beau, who died of cancer after his service in Iraq, Trump missed the opportunity to acknowledge Biden’s loss, and instead repeatedly attacked Biden’s son Hunter, who struggled with substance abuse. Trump insisted—incorrectly—that Hunter was dishonorably discharged from the Navy (in fact, he was administratively discharged), and tried to smear him. Biden looked directly at Trump to say that Hunter had a drug addiction he is managing, and Biden is proud of him. While Biden spoke as a father defending his son, his message will resonate with the 20 million Americans who are battling addiction.

Most important, though, Biden made the debate about the country and the American people, not about Trump. While Trump listed his own grievances, Biden spoke to the camera, asking Americans what they needed, what they think. He promised that we can accomplish anything if only we work together. He urged people to ignore the chaos and vote. “Vote whatever way is the best way for you,” he said. “Because he will not be able to stop you from determining the outcome of this election.”

Biden also refused to be scared off by Trump’s threats not to honor the election results. He brushed them off, saying “I will accept it, and he will, too. You know why? Because once the winner is declared once all the ballots are counted, that’ll be the end of it.”

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

Heather Cox Richardson

[crying-gay-tears]

Brighter Than the Sun Ch. 5

A night of silly fun before the end of the semester!

Full work

As a treat, here’s a playlist of all the songs they sang at karaoke!

It was a late autumn afternoon, a chilly wind sent leaves skipping across the pavement and shook the almost bare branches of the trees dotting the campus grounds. Another long day of classes had Gon walking home at the end of the day with tense shoulders and a slight headache. He was almost to his building when his phone vibrated in his pocket. It was an email from mail services telling him that a package had arrived and was waiting for him. He checked the time and had about 15 minutes before mail services closed for the day, so he quickly changed direction and headed towards the administration building.

He made it in the nick of time and walked home with the package under his arm and an extra spring in his step, excited to see what goodies awaited him. When he finally made it into his dorm, Killua was sitting on the couch surrounded by open text books and papers. He was holding his phone to his ear with one hand and pinching the bridge of his nose with the other. 

“Yes mom, I did that already. Yes. Gotoh emailed me the flight information this morning. No, I haven’t yet. Just get off my back, okay?! I’m in college now, I’m not a little kid. Well I don’t care! Fine, whatever. Yeah, I’ll see you then. Bye.” He sighed and hung up. 

“Jesus, that woman really knows how to get under my skin. I swear it’s like she lives to make my life more annoying.” 

Gon walked over to the couch, gently pushing some papers aside so he could sit.

“Everything okay?”

He cut his eyes to the side. “Yeah. Pretty sure she just wanted to be nosy and annoying, but making sure I had my shit together for winter break was a nice cover.”

Gon chuckled and shifted to get more comfortable, dropping his backpack to the floor and resting the package in his lap.

Killua scooped up some loose papers and closed the books in front of him, then stretched out on the couch. “What’s in the box?” 

Gon smiled, holding it in front of him like a prize. “It’s a care package from Aunt Mito!” He rested the box on the couch between them, peeling at the tape along the edges. 

It opened to reveal layers of tissue paper and an assortment of treats. Gon pulled out a card, tucked it into his backpack to read later, and then started unloading the rest of the box’s contents.  “Let’s see, there’s some fruit snacks, some gummy worms, two mangoes, a pack of pens--thank goddess I really needed those!-- some herbal tea and hot chocolate packets, and oooh! Yes!!!” He cheered, pulling a large foil wrapped rectangle out. “A loaf of her homemade banana bread, it’s my favorite!” He placed it on the coffee table and gave it a reverent pat before pulling the last item from the box. “And here, this is for you!” 

Killua paused, his expression unreadable. “For... me?”

“Of course! She wouldn’t just send me a bunch of stuff and leave you out!” 

“But...why--I-I mean...how...” he trailed off, at a loss for words. 

Gon just laughed cheerily “Of course I told her all about you! You’re my best friend!” 

A blush spread across Killua’s cheeks. Gon smiled and handed him a small metal tin. It was blue--his favorite color--and his name was scrawled across the lid in loopy cursive with a heart next to it.

Curious, Gon watched as he pulled the lid off. Inside was a chocolate robot surrounded by a dozen homemade chocolate chip cookies. Killua blinked, his eyes grew wide.

Gon stared at him, a huge smile plastered on his face. “Those are her famous cookies! They’re the best, and she only makes them for special occasions. You’re very lucky!’ His lips pulled into a sneaky grin. “I’ll trade you some banana bread for a cookie!”

Killua looked up from the tin in his lap. “Not a chance, Gon.”

He pouted. “But Killuaaaa! Please?!” 

“Uh-uh. She made these special and delicious cookies just for me! I simply cannot share them.” He bit into one and groaned happily.

Gon grinned, yep, those were definitely Mito’s famous cookies. He was so happy Killua got to taste them, if a little jealous that Mito didn’t send any extra for him. Before he could argue and beg for even just a bite, his phone went off in his pocket. He fished it out and had a text from Kurapika. Oh! He almost forgot!

“Killua, get dressed, we gotta go!”

He managed a “Huh?” around a mouthful of cookie.

“I’ve got fun plans tonight, and you’re coming!” He started packing things back into the box.

Killua swallowed. “What? Gon, what are you talking about? I’ve got stuff to do-”

Gon stood and held a finger to his lips, shushing him. “The cookies can wait, Killua, there’s fun to be had! Plus, I’ve been wanting to finally introduce you to some of the friends I’ve been telling you about!” 

Killua stuffed another cookie into his mouth and crossed his arms. He locked eyes with Gon and put on his best poker face. Gon stared right back, unwavering. 

Killua sighed. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

Gon just giggled and skipped towards his room to get ready.

~~~~~~~~

The setting sun silhouetted the skyline of York New City, casting long shadows across the street. Killua shivered and wrapped his jacket tighter around his torso, the chill in the air raising goosebumps on his arms. They were walking down Main street, and though Gon assured him that they were almost to their destination, he still had no idea what that destination was. He opened his mouth to complain just as Gon came to a halt on the sidewalk.

“We’re here!”

Killua glanced up, YNC Karaoke Bar glowed above them in red neon letters.

“Gon, you’re joking, right?”

“Nope! It’s gonna be so much fun!” Gon poked his tongue out, and pulled open the door. 

With a sigh, Killua followed him inside. The bar was not at all what he was expecting. There was no stage anywhere, just a long hallway with lots of doors on either side. The bar itself was pretty small, a few people were in line to order drinks, and some lingered in the space around it. Music thumped through the air, but it was muffled and unintelligible. The walls were lined with old license plates and tall red lamps stood in every corner. 

Gon looked around for a moment and then his face lit up. “Kurapika!” He waved and made a beeline for the bar. Killua followed behind, watching as a man with shoulder length blonde hair waved in their direction. 

Gon skipped up to him and gave him a quick hug. The man, Kurapika, looked a little surprised by the contact, but smiled nonetheless. Gon was beaming. “Kurapika, this is my roommate Killua! Killua, this is my lab partner Kurapika!” He motioned between the two of them as he spoke, and Kurapika offered a hand which Killua shook. 

“Nice to meet you Killua, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Killua felt heat rise in his cheeks, but he managed a smile. “Likewise”

Gon looked around the room again. “Where’s Leorio?”

Kurapika motioned over his shoulder towards the bar. “He went to get some drinks from the b-”

“Oi! Gon!!” A loud voice bellowed from across the room, and a tall man with dark hair and glasses greeted them shortly after. 

“Leorio!” Gon launched forward into a hug, almost spilling the drinks in Leorio’s hands. 

Leorio just chucked. “It’s good to see you too! And who’s this?” He asked, voice still booming despite their proximity. He motioned to Killua. “Is this the one you talk about all the time? Killua, is it? It’s nice to finally meet you!”

Killua awkwardly rubbed at the back of his neck. “Yeah, that’s me. Nice to meet you too.” 

Gon was smiling like an idiot. “Killua, this is Leorio, Kurapika’s roommate!”

Kurapika’s side eye was sharp when he said “Yeah, I had a room to myself until someone got kicked out of their own dorm.”

Leorio laughed boisterously, sipping one of the drinks he was holding. “I didn’t get kicked out, I chose to leave for my own sanity, and the safety of my former roommate.”

Killua quirked an eyebrow. 

Kurapika rolled his eyes. “He punched his old roommate in the face, and the dean said he had to find a place off campus because all of the dorm rooms were full. Unfortunately, I had previously made the mistake of mentioning to Leorio that I managed to score a room to myself for the year.”

“It’s not my fault! Tonpa is an asshole, and needed to be put in his place!”

“Yes, and being the divine bringer of justice that you are, you sacrificed your own housing to do so.”

Leorio stuck his chin up, “I regret nothing.”

Kurapika sighed and rolled his eyes, Gon just chuckled. 

“So,” Killua started, shifting from foot to foot, “how do we, uh… what is this place?”

“Ah, yes!” Leorio handed a drink to Kurapika and motioned to the long hallway behind them. “Our room is reserved and our time slot starts in,” he glanced at the watch on his wrist, “shit, right now! Let’s go!”

They headed down the hallway and stopped at a door midway down on the left. It opened to reveal a dimly lit room with an L shaped leather couch against the wall.  Circles of rainbow colored lights shone on the walls and reflected in the disco ball turning slowly overhead. A karaoke machine was set up on a tiny stage in the front of the room, and tv screens hung in both corners over it. When they stepped inside a server showed up and greeted them. She handed them menus and showed them how to operate the karaoke machine. 

She left briefly and returned with sodas for Gon and Killua and some cheese fries for everyone, and then they were left alone to sing their hearts out. Well, Leorio and Gon sang their hearts out. Killua mostly laughed and recorded their performances while Kurapika heckled their dance moves. After a particularly rousing rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody, they both flopped onto the couch, exhausted. 

Leorio chugged the rest of his drink. “Kurapika! I’m going to order another vodka cranberry, and then you’re gonna sing with me!” 

“Absolutely not, Leorio. Unlike you, I refuse to make a fool of myself.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll just keep buying you drinks until your ass is drunk enough to sing something.” Leorio teased and then poked his head out of the door to flag down their server. 

Sure enough, a few drinks later and Kurapika was standing up, mic in hand and singing.

“I got guns in my head and they won't go. Spirits in my head and they won't go...”

After a dramatic performance that Kurapika would later deny ever happened, he had a seat and switched to water for the rest of the night. 

Gon was midway through his performance of Wannabe by the Spice Girls, when he locked eyes with Killua who had been quietly singing along from his spot on the couch. Shit.

When the song wrapped, Gon walked up to him and grabbed his hands, trying to pull him up off the couch.

“Come sing with me Killua! I saw you singing along, you know you wanna try it!” 

Gon hadn’t been drinking, but he was still so excited and silly, the energy of the room and the songs clearly had him riled up. 

“Come on Killua!” Leorio urged. “If Kurapika can do it you sure as hell can!” He started chanting.  “Kil-lu-ah! Kil-lu-ah! Kil-lu-ah!” Gon immediately joined in, but it wasn’t until even Kurapika joined the rally that he finally gave in. 

Killua sighed. “Ugh, fine! I’ll sing a damn song with you. But only one, and no recording you bastards!” He looked pointedly at Kurapika who was already aiming his phone at the stage. 

Kurapika chuckled and tucked his phone back into his pocket, meanwhile Gon was already back at the karaoke machine picking the song they would sing. 

“Nothing cheesy Gon, I mean it!”

He laughed. “Just trust me Killua!”

The karaoke machine counted down from 5 and Gon quickly pulled Killua to his feet and up onto the stage. 

An upbeat riff played through the speakers and Gon took the first few lines while gazing directly into Killua’s eyes.

“Oh don’t you dare look back, just keep your eyes on me. I said you’re holding back, she said shut up and dance with me! This woman is my destiny, she said oh oh oh, shut up and dance with me!”  

Killua recognized the song immediately and sang the next few lines, letting the music drown out his nerves. 

“We were victims of the night. The chemical, physical, kryptonite. Helpless to the bass and the fading light, oh we were bound to get together, bound to get together!” 

They continued singing in earnest, jumping around to the beat and dancing together. As weird as it was to admit, Killua was actually having a great time. The room seemed to melt away and Gon kept grabbing his hands and pulling him in closer. The song was obviously a man singing to a woman, but the pronouns didn’t seem to matter to Gon as he serenaded Killua.

When the song came to a close Gon wrapped him in a hug as Leorio and Kurapika stood and cheered. They stepped off the stage and they all took their seats on the couch. 

“That was awesome you two! Hell yeah Killua! I’m glad you joined. Now that I’ve seen what you can do, you’ll never get away without singing! You either Kurapika!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Leorio. I’ve never sung a song at karaoke in my life. Nor will I ever.”

“Bullshit! If you think I’m letting this go you’ve got another thing coming! Gon as my witness!”

“We all saw you Kurapika, I’m pretty sure there’s even photo evidence…” Gon teased.

“What?! Destroy it!”

As their conversation dissolved into silly bickering, Killua just watched with a smile on his face. It was a surreal feeling, being welcomed by them all with open arms, and he was already so comfortable with them. It felt so...natural. Was this what true friendship felt like? 

College was seriously amazing so far. With a little space and freedom he’d found out more about himself, and now he’d found people that he could actually be himself around. It was a whole new world, so different from the one he’d known before. Was it real? Would it last? Could he really make his own way, be his own person and live his own life?  And was this what that life could be like?  Full of people that cared for him and made him feel happy and at peace? First the care package from Mito and now this? Looking around, it was like he was in a perfect bubble. 

And in two weeks, that bubble would burst, and he’d be back home, surrounded by his family. His real family who somehow felt a lot less like a family than the people he currently shared a booth with. 

Leorio raised his glass and called for a toast, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“To good beer, good friends, and a good life!” He declared, cheeks flushed from the alcohol. They all raised their glasses and toasted, Gon was giggling as if he were tipsy from his virgin shirley temple.

Kurapika smiled. “This was a great last hoorah before finals.”

Killua nodded in agreement, “Yeah I definitely needed this to help get me through all the boring reading.” 

“Finals?” Gon chirped, a confused look on his face. 

Killua quirked an eyebrow, “Yeah? They're starting next week?” Had he really forgotten about finals?

“Wait, WHAT?” He gripped the edge of the table. “I thought they were in two weeks!” 

Kurapika sipped his water, “No, two weeks is when Winter break begins. We’ve got finals coming this Monday and then break starts the weekend after next.”

Gon was flabbergasted. “B-but--”

Killua snorted. “Why did you think I’ve been surrounded by piles of books and notes in the common room all week?”

Gon was starting to look pale, his eyes were darting between the three of them like he was desperately looking for something and he couldn’t find it. 

 “I haven’t started studying at all yet! I can’t believe I didn’t realize--wait, what day is today??”

“It’s Friday, Gon.” Killua said, trying to keep his tone neutral so he wouldn’t laugh. Gon was practically vibrating beside him.

“Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh no, I’m totally fucked!” He tugged at his hair, eyes wide. 

Killua had never heard Gon swear so much, even Kurapika was hiding a surprised smile.

Leorio took a large gulp of his drink and puffed his chest out. “It’ll be okay Gon, don’t worry! You have all weekend to prepare, you’re a smart guy, I’m sure you’ll be fine!” 

Gon didn’t respond, he just stared into the middle distance, mouth set in a tight line. Killua could almost see the gears turning in his brain. 

He stood suddenly. “I gotta go.”

Leorio tried to intervene, “Gon, it’s late! You can start in the morning with a fresh mind--”

“I can’t waste anymore time! I’ve gotta go!” His expression was a mix of panic and determination. 

He nudged Killua’s shoulder and he stood to let him out of the booth.

They all watched as he scrambled out the door without another word. 

“Welp,” Killua raised his soda again, “to Gon! Godspeed!”

“To Gon!” their glasses clinked. 

[mairi-mia1]

AN AMAZING STORY...

Here is an amazing story from a flight attendant on Delta Flight 15, written following 9-11

On the morning of Tuesday, September 11, we were about 5 hours out of Frankfurt, flying over the North Atlantic .

All of a sudden the curtains parted and I was told to go to the cockpit, immediately, to see the captain. As soon as I got there I noticed that the crew had that "All Business" look on their faces. The captain handed me a printed message. It was from Delta's main office in Atlanta and simply read, "All airways over the Continental United States are closed to commercial air traffic. Land ASAP at the nearest airport. Advise your destination."

No one said a word about what this could mean. We knew it was a serious situation and we needed to find terra firma quickly. The captain determined that the nearest airport was 400 miles behind us in Gander, New Foundland.

He requested approval for a route change from the Canadian traffic controller and approval was granted immediately -- no questions asked. We found out later, of course, why there was no hesitation in approving our request.

While the flight crew prepared the airplane for landing, another message arrived from Atlanta telling us about some terrorist activity in the New York area. A few minutes later word came in about the hijackings.

We decided to LIE to the passengers while we were still in the air. We told them the plane had a simple instrument problem and that we needed to land at the nearest airport in Gander , New Foundland, to have it checked out.

We promised to give more information after landing in Gander .. There was much grumbling among the passengers, but that's nothing new! Forty minutes later, we landed in Gander. Local time at Gander was 12:30 PM .... that's 11:00 AM EST.

There were already about 20 other airplanes on the ground from all over the world that had taken this detour on their way to the US.

After we parked on the ramp, the captain made the following announcement: "Ladies and gentlemen, you must be wondering if all these airplanes around us have the same instrument problem as we have. The reality is that we are here for another reason."

Then he went on to explain the little bit we knew about the situation in the US. There were loud gasps and stares of disbelief. The captain informed passengers that Ground control in Gander told us to stay put.

The Canadian Government was in charge of our situation and no one was allowed to get off the aircraft. No one on the ground was allowed to come near any of the air crafts. Only airport police would come around periodically, look us over and go on to the next airplane.

In the next hour or so more planes landed and Gander ended up with 53 airplanes from all over the world, 27 of which were US commercial jets.

Meanwhile, bits of news started to come in over the aircraft radio and for the first time we learned that airplanes were flown into the World Trade Center in New York and into the Pentagon in DC.

People were trying to use their cell phones, but were unable to connect due to a different cell system in Canada . Some did get through, but were only able to get to the Canadian operator who would tell them that the lines to the U.S. were either blocked or jammed.

Sometime in the evening the news filtered to us that the World Trade Center buildings had collapsed and that a fourth hijacking had resulted in a crash. By now the passengers were emotionally and physically exhausted, not to mention frightened, but everyone stayed amazingly calm.

We had only to look out the window at the 52 other stranded aircraft to realize that we were not the only ones in this predicament.

We had been told earlier that they would be allowing people off the planes one plane at a time. At 6 PM, Gander airport told us that our turn to deplane would be 11 am the next morning.

Passengers were not happy, but they simply resigned themselves to this news without much noise and started to prepare themselves to spend the night on the airplane.

Gander had promised us medical attention, if needed, water, and lavatory servicing.

And they were true to their word.

Fortunately we had no medical situations to worry about. We did have a young lady who was 33 weeks into her pregnancy. We took REALLY good care of her. The night passed without incident despite the uncomfortable sleeping arrangements.

About 10:30 on the morning of the 12th a convoy of school buses showed up. We got off the plane and were taken to the terminal where we went through Immigration and Customs and then had to register with the Red Cross.

After that we (the crew) were separated from the passengers and were taken in vans to a small hotel. We had no idea where our passengers were going. We learned from the Red Cross that the town of Gander has a population of 10,400 people and they had about 10,500 passengers to take care of from all the airplanes that were forced into Gander!

We were told to just relax at the hotel and we would be contacted when the US airports opened again, but not to expect that call for a while.

We found out the total scope of the terror back home only after getting to our hotel and turning on the TV, 24 hours after it all started.

Meanwhile, we had lots of time on our hands and found that the people of Gander were extremely friendly. They started calling us the "plane people." We enjoyed their hospitality, explored the town of Gander and ended up having a pretty good time.

Two days later, we got that call and were taken back to the Gander airport. Back on the plane, we were reunited with the passengers and found out what they had been doing for the past two days.

What we found out was incredible.....

Gander and all the surrounding communities (within about a 75 Kilometer radius) had closed all high schools, meeting halls, lodges, and any other large gathering places. They converted all these facilities to mass lodging areas for all the stranded travelers.

Some had cots set up, some had mats with sleeping bags and pillows set up.

ALL the high school students were required to volunteer theirtime to take care of the "guests."

Our 218 passengers ended up in a town called Lewisporte, about 45 kilometers from Gander where they were put up in a high school. If any women wanted to be in a women-only facility, that was arranged.

Families were kept together. All the elderly passengers were taken to private homes.

Remember that young pregnant lady? She was put up in a private home right across the street from a 24-hour Urgent Care facility.There was a dentist on call and both male and female nurses remained with the crowd for the duration.

Phone calls and e-mails to the U.S. and around the world were available to everyone once a day. During the day, passengers were offered "Excursion" trips.

Some people went on boat cruises of the lakes and harbors. Some went for hikes in the local forests.

Local bakeries stayed open to make fresh bread for the guests.

Food was prepared by all the residents and brought to the schools. People were driven to restaurants of their choice and offered wonderful meals. Everyone was given tokens for local laundry mats to wash their clothes, since luggage was still on the aircraft.

In other words, every single need was met for those stranded travelers.

Passengers were crying while telling us these stories. Finally, when they were told that U.S. airports had reopened, they were delivered to the airport right on time and without a single passenger missing or late. The local Red Cross had all the information about thewhereabouts of each and every passenger and knew

which plane they needed to be on and when all the planes were leaving. They coordinated everything beautifully.

It was absolutely incredible.

When passengers came on board, it was like they had been on a cruise. Everyone knew each other by name. They were swapping stories of their stay, impressing each other with who had the better time. Our flight back to Atlanta looked like a chartered party flight. The crew just stayed out of their way. It was mind-boggling.

Passengers had totally bonded and were calling each other by their first names, exchanging phone numbers, addresses, and email addresses.

And then a very unusual thing happened.

One of our passengers approached me and asked if he could make an announcement over the PA system. We never, ever allow that. But this time was different. I said "of course" and handed him the mike. He picked up the PA and reminded everyone about what they had just gone through in the last few days.

He reminded them of the hospitality they had received at the hands of total strangers.

He continued by saying that he would like to do something in return for the good folks of Lewisporte.

"He said he was going to set up a Trust Fund under the name of DELTA 15 (our flight number). The purpose of the trust fund is to provide college scholarships for the high school students of Lewisporte.

He asked for donations of any amount from his fellow travelers. When the paper with donations got back to us with the amounts, names, phone numbers and addresses, the total was for more than $14,000!

"The gentleman, a MD from Virginia , promised to match the donations and to start the administrative work on the scholarship. He also said that he would forward this proposal to Delta Corporate and ask them to donate as well.

As I write this account, the trust fund is at more than $1.5 million and has assisted 134 students in college education.

"I just wanted to share this story because we need good stories right now. It gives me a little bit of hope to know that some people in a faraway place were kind to some strangers who literally dropped in on them.

It reminds me how much good there is in the world."

"In spite of all the rotten things we see going on in today's world this story confirms that there are still a lot of good people in the world and when things get bad, they will come forward.

*This is one of those stories that need to be shared. Please do so...*

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 33

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​

It’s six thirty in the morning when he steps out onto the front porch; barefoot and blurry eyed, still clad in just a pair of boxer briefs, cup of coffee in one hand and phone in the other.  After Nik’s call he’d fallen into a restless sleep; dreaming of Dhaka and the night at Gaspar’s house when he’d been given the five million dollar deal. This time he’d made a different decision; willingly giving both Ovi and Esme up in exchange for money and his freedom. Asif had been there, sitting in a darkened corner; watching and listening. A pleased, victorious smile on his lips as his right hand man brought over his two new favourite playthings. They’d been drugged; minds and eyes hazy, their movements sluggish and uncoordinated.  He’d had a change of heart at the last moment; offering his life in exchange for hers. Begging and pleading with Asif to ‘take me instead of the girl’.  Asif had just laughed, then grabbed her by the hair and forced her to look at Tyler. Mocking her, telling her to look at the big, strong man now; crying like a baby and bargaining to save her. How did that make her feel? Knowing he could be so weak? That she was the one capable of making him that way? Is that really what she wanted? Someone so pathetic? Or did she want a real man like him. Then he’d his hand had moved to her throat; fingers digging into the soft flesh with enough power and pressure to steal her breath. And he’d kissed her. Savagely. Brutally.

And she’d kissed him back.

Tyler woke up breathless; near sobbing. Tears spilling down his cheeks,  his heart thundering, and chest aching. Initially panicking at the unfamiliar surroundings and bolting upright, wide -almost terrified- eyes taking in everything around him; the furnishings, the color of the walls, his old friend sleeping soundly across the room, the cattle dog sitting beside the couch, curiously watching him.  And it hadn’t been until he’d glanced out the window and caught sight of the mountain range, tree line, and brush that reality had finally settled in.  He was no longer in Dhaka. Not at Gaspar’s outside the city limits.  It was seven years ago. Not now. He’d turned down the offer and Asif hadn’t been there; he’d never laid a hand on her and he’d never kissed her. None of that had ever happened. Just his mind -broken and in tatters- playing tricks on him. They’d made it out of Bangladesh. She was saife. At home. In bed. THEIR bed.

He’d been tempted to call; just to hear her voice; needing that extra bit of reassurance that everything was fine. SHE was fine. But he knew what the mornings could be like; up before the sunrise with the baby, then tending to Declan and getting breakfast made and three kids up and ready for school. Ovi would be there; promising to keep an eye on things and lending a hand whenever it was needed. Kyle couldn’t be relied on; too busy getting his rocks off with Salena. Or whatever the hell her real name is. And Tyler had briefly wondered if getting into Kyle’s life had been part of whatever the new neighbor was up to; a way of weaseling her way into their lives for some fucked. The uncertainty eats at him; knowing that something isn’t quite right yet not being able to prove it or get the information that he needs. Way too many things pointing towards trouble; the Jeep with the stolen plates and the driver with the earpiece that had been watching him and the kids. Salena getting out of the passenger seat with a stack of folders under her arm and no record of her actually existing. All the ingredients, everything needed, to create a huge goddamn mess.

His head throbs. A mixture of lack of sleep and not eating properly. The cravings are intense. When he’d gone into the kitchen to make himself a coffee, he’d been greeted by all the whisky and scotch bottles that littered the counters and shelves; some empty, others half full, a handful still sealed.  And his hands had been shaking as he’d considered it; one on a glass and the other around a bottle of scotch. His brain exhausted from dealing with the nightmare,   trying to piece together the bullshit with the neighbor, and the call from Nik and the threats she’d made.  A single wouldn’t hurt. That’s what the demon on his shoulder had been telling him. That he could stop at just one and walk away; get enough to satisfy the craving, get the taste of it on his lips and tongue.  And he’d been close. So close. Seconds away from pouring the scotch into a glass.  And then as quick as the desperation and the need had come, it had disappeared. Leaving him feeling  weak and shamed and completely disgusted with himself.

Now he sits on the edge of the porch, feeling ground with his feet pressed against the damp earth. It had rained considerably last night; puddles of mud, lower temperatures, and a fresh and familiar earthy smell in its wake. Sadie hasn’t left his side since he’d arrived yesterday; now pressed tightly to him, chin resting on his thigh as he sips his coffee and checks his text messages and emails. Skipping over the angry rants left by Nik and the irritated ‘clearly out of fucks’- one that Yaz had contributed. Tyler hasn’t heard from him since New Zealand; the one other man taking it as a personal slight that he’d given it all up and walked away without even a glance back.

There’s dozens of emails from the contacts he’d reached out to; mercs wanting to work for him and offering their services, retired guys wanting to get back into the game, people who can supply him with weapons and ammo and every other accessory and piece of technology he can imagine.  Even mail from former clients; guys he’d done jobs for and had been so impressed with his efficient -and successful- work. They’re pleased  that he’s not only   back in action, but that he’s actually still alive. They have resources for him; supplies, money, names and numbers of other high profile people that may need some work done.  And he sees the emails that his wife has returned, smiling as he reads her replies; concise, confident, intelligent. As if she’s never spent a single moment away from the job; smoothly and effortlessly transitioning back into her old life.

It won’t be easy; balancing the job and running a business while trying to keep a marriage afloat and raise five kids. But there’s no doubt in his mind that they can do it. They’re stronger together than they are apart; they always have been. And if they can survive the past seven years -especially his addiction issues and a six month separation that should have broken them-, they can survive anything.

He sends a text message. Telling her how much he loves her. Misses her. How he can’t wait to see her. That he’s proud of her. Not just the way that she’s handling the business side of things, but EVERYTHING.  The way she’s always fought for them. For HIM. How she raises his kids. Pouring his heart out with every letter that appears on the screen. He’d not normally that ‘type’, grand displays of affection and sincere, romantic words not his strong suit.  But the nightmare -especially the way Asif had kissed her and she’d reciprocated- has left him feeling unsettled; needing to get things off his chest. The things he feels but always struggles to say.

She quickly sends a text in response. I LOVE YOU. SO MUCH. WE MISS YOU.  Accompanied by a selfie of herself and Millie lying in the middle of their bed, both with sleepy smiles and messy hair and hands down the two most beautiful girls in the world. And he thinks of what Koen had said; about how lucky he is and that any woman who would stuck his side -through everything- was a woman worth holding onto him. She could have easily left that day on the bridge; he wouldn’t have blamed her if she did. But she’d ignored Nik and stuck around and put her own ass on line in an attempt to save his. And that’s nothing you easily thank someone for.

“You really are out of your damn mind,” Koen grumbles, as he wanders out onto the porch, his own cup of coffee in his hand; hair messy from sleep and eyes stilly glassy from all the booze he’d consumed. “Up at these hours of the morning.”

“This is pretty normal for me. Has been since I got clean.”

“Probably used to getting up with the rugrats,” Koen reasons, and takes a seat beside him. “Everything okay?” he nods down at the phone still clutched in Tyler’s hand. “At home?”

“Yeah. Everything’s good. Just checking in on everyone. Making sure they haven’t driven their mom crazy yet.”

“She must already be crazy. Having that many kids with the likes of you. How the hell she puts up with you is beyond me. I’d only be able to stand looking at that ugly mug for so long.”

“You must not look in the mirror very often.”

Koen smirks. “Smart ass. You always were quick with the shit head comments. Thought maybe all that oxygen you were deprived of might have slowed you down a bit. But here I am, dealing with your crap.”

“Admit it. You missed me.”

“About as much as I miss my two ex wives,” Koen scoffs, and then digs a playful elbow in Tyler’s ribs. “You miss it? Living out here?”

“Not really. I have a better life now. A nice place right on the beach. Tons of property. Perfect for raising kids. Wouldn’t have been able to do that out here. We probably would have tried, bt…” he sips his coffee and shrugs. “...we’re happy where we are.”

“Smartest thing you ever did; coming home. No better place to bring up a handful of kids, if you ask me. It’s weird as hell though,” he chuckles. “You doing the whole daddy thing all over again. Never thought I’d see the day, to be honest.”

“Neither did I,” Tyler admits, and he thinks about the picture he’d received just minutes before. Millie with her messy, unruly hair and those huge blue eyes that crinkle at the edges when she smiles. How’d he cried when she’d been born and a nurse had placed her in his arms; tears of both relief that she’d made it safely and immense gratitude that he’d been given that chance again.

After Austin had passed away and his marriage disintegrated, he’d thought that it was it for him. His life had been a mess...HE’D been a mess...and he couldn’t imagine meeting someone that he’d be able to have that kind of experience with. That he’d trust enough to let his guard down around and that could tolerate him and his bullshit long enough to actually fall in with him. That he’d ever find someone to fall in love WITH.

“She’s going to be a heart breaker that one,” Koen says. “The oldest. Those eyes of hers? All the boys are going to be tripping over themselves to get to her.”

Tyler frowns. “They’re going to have to get through me first.”

“Poor bastards. They’re going to be scared shitless when they walk up the house and you’re the first one out to greet them. I feel for them; trying to date a girl that has you as their father. They’d have no clue that you’re capable of tearing them in half.”

“Anyone touches either of my girls, no one will ever find their bodies. No boyfriends. No dates. No dances. None of that. No one is getting close to them. Ever.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Koen chuckles, and takes a swallow of coffee. And for several minutes they sit in silence;   enjoying the feel of the breeze and the smell of fresh, damp earth.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” his friend says. “With the whole merc business. I thought one brush with death would be enough. Apparently not.”

“Things will be different this time. I won’t have to go out in the field as much. Only if things really go to shit.”

“Don’t they always go to shit?”

“Sometimes. Dhaka was the worst, but it wasn’t the first time things went wrong and it won’t be the last. Hopefully we can avoid that level of shit show. I know what I’m doing. I’m not some rookie going into this blind. It was my life for years.”

“But why do you need it to be your life now? Look what you’ve got going for you. You’ve got a wife and little ones. Stability. Why put all that on the line for who you used to be?”

“You having second thoughts?”

“Nope. I said I’m in, I’m in. I’m just worried about you. I don’t you throwing your life away. I don’t want you losing your kids and that pretty little wife of yours. You got a thing going. A damn good thing. You don’t need to fucking that up.”

“It’s something I need to do,” Tyler says. “I need to get back out there. Get back that piece of who I was. I need to feel like I’m doing something worthwhile with my life.”

Koen frowns. “You don’t think you are? Doing something worthwhile?”

“What am I doing? I don’t have a nine to five job. No skills outside of what I learned in the military and on the job. I pick up odd shit here and there. Nothing steady. I spend more of my time in the gym or out in the water or spending time with my wife.”

“And you’re complaining about that last part? Spending time with the likes of her? What the fuck is wrong with you? Give her to someone who’d appreciate her then.”

“I’m not complaining. Far from it. I’m just saying there needs to be something more to this life. I feel like I need to be doing something more. I need to feel useful again. Like I’m not just washed up, broken down ex soldier with a drinking problem.”

“You’re a husband. And a dad. You help raise little human beings. There’s nothing useless about that. You should be sitting back enjoying your life. Appreciating what you have right in front of you. How you gonna feel if all this blows up in your face? If things go to hell and you lose everything? What the hell you gonna do then?”

“I don’t know. Put a gun in my mouth?”

Koen scowls. “I’m being serious, mate.”

“So am I.”

“All I’m hoping is that you got your shit together and you know what you’re doing. Because this is some serious stuff here. Getting back into being a merc. And you’ve got a lot to lose now. You’ve got everything to lose. That’s all I’m saying.”

Tyler smirks. “When did you become so sensitive and sentimental?”

“Don’t be a dick about this. I’m just worried about you. I don’t want you going back into this and losing what you have. Because you finally got your shit together and got a life that’s worth living.”

“I appreciate you worrying about me and all that, mate. I do. But I’ve got it under control. I know what I’m doing. This isn’t going to be like last time. I won’t let it be.”

Koen sighs. “You always have been a stubborn sonofabitch.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Tyler insists. “And I wouldn’t be doing it if I couldn’t handle it. Things will be alright. Esme and I are in this together. We’re on the same page. We’re not going to let this break us.”

“I hope not,”  Koen says. “Because I don’t think you’d survive that.”

***

His flight arrives on time, touching down shortly before noon hour at Cooktown airport. She parks the truck on the tarmac and waits; a pair of aviator style sunglasses covering her eyes, fingernails drumming against the steering wheel. She gives the pilot a small wave and a pleasant smile when he nods in her direction; they’d met briefly two days before, when he’d come to the house after Tyler had sought out his help.  Short and broad shouldered; brown hair cropped tightly to his head and kind green eyes that sparkle when he smiles. The quintessential ‘boy next door’ with his youthful wholesome good looks and his khaki pants and crisp white golf shirt.  Quite the juxtaposition compared to Tyler; all power and muscle and the tattoos and scars that tell of a hard life spent living on the edge.  

This is the furthest she’s ever gotten into the job; not only helping organize and run things, but the acquiring of weapons and ammo and other supplies, and the handling of money -big money-  aside from her own payouts. It makes her anxious; knowing that she’s one of two people that others will come to now. Instead of being approached with work and offered jobs,  now she’s in charge of finding and assigning them. Gathering intel had been one thing; she’d spent years honing those skills. Being boss is an entirely different animal all in itself.

So much for not getting ‘too involved’.

Four large and heavy locked trunks are placed in the bed of the truck, followed by several smaller duffle bags that are loaded into the back seat. All containing a shockingly generous amount of automatic and semi automatic rifles and handguns, various types of grenades and their launches, knives, and utility vests. Whatever immediate gear that a merc would meet. All would be placed in a storage facility on the outskirts of town, save for a handful that would be kept in the two locked and secure  gun lockers  that already exist at home; one in their garage and the other in the attic.

Once things are safely loaded, an envelope of money is exchanged. Everything being handled off the books; no paper trail that can connect the pilot to the or the very illegal transport of weapons. You never know who is watching. Now that word has gotten out and spread like wildfire, support and interest are pouring in. But it isn’t just the good-intentioned that are paying attention; a man like Tyler Rake burns a lot of bridges and makes a lot of enemies. Evil, dangerous people who feel as if he wronged them and have been holding onto grudges and fantasizing about revenge.

“Hey,” she cheerfully greets, as he slides into the passenger seat. “How was the flight? How…?”

His mouth is on hers before she gets the rest of the words out; a hand tangling in her hair as he aggressively pulls her into him.  The kiss is long and soft and sweet at first; his lips bearing a hint of coffee and a touch of mint. But then things quickly take a more intense turn; his tongue pushing its way way into her mouth, the miss much more ravenous and needy. Desperate.

“Wow…” she breathes, when he pulls away, forehead briefly resting against hers before his lips brush against the bridge of her nose. “...what was that for?”

“I wanted to kiss my wife. That’s not allowed?”

“Of course it’s allowed. And encouraged. But that was...intense. That wasn’t your usual ‘back after only twenty four hours’ kiss. That was your ‘I’ve been gone for two or three weeks’ kind of kiss.”

“Guess I just missed you.” he reasons, and then presses his lips to her temple before settling back into his seat and reaching for the belt.

“Okay, something is going on. You kissed me like THAT and you’re letting me drive your truck?”

“You had to drive it here, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but you’re here now and it’s your baby and usually…”

“It’s just a truck,” he says with a shrug, and buckles his seat belt.

“Something is definitely going on with you.”

Tyler chuckles. “There’s nothing. I didn’t sleep well last night and I have a killer headache and it’s probably just better if you drive. That’s all.”

“Do you have a killer headache because…?”

“I wasn’t drinking iof that’s what you’re going to ask. I stayed sober. I told you I wasn’t going to be like that again and I meant it.”

“What was the dream about?”

“Can’t remember. I just know it was fucked and I don’t want to have it again.”

Her eyes narrow as she watches him, noticing the way he grimaces when he stretches his legs out in front of him and the frown on his face as he rubs at his troublesome knee. The scar is long and jagged; starting three inches above and stopping four inches below. There’d been complications; the surgeon discovering more damage, bone fragments and scar tissue than he’d initially expected and having to not only replace the knee, but repair ligaments and tendons that were nearly severed.

“What’s this about?” She reaches over to tussle his hair. The length on the top is the same as when he’d left, but the sides and back now shaved as close to the skin as possible.  High and tight; a Marine cut.  

“Just something I thought I’d try.”

“You’re going back to the old hair aren’t you,” a slow smile spreads across his face. “You’re going to let the top grow out.”

“It’s the look you liked the most, yeah? Now you can’t say I never do anything nice for you.”

“Baby…” she leans across the space between their seats and presses a kiss to his cheek; his beard still full yet trimmed and tidier. “...you’re the best. You know how to keep your girl happy.”

He grins. “Sometimes.”

“All the time,” she says, and places a kiss to the corner of his mouth before settling back into her seat and starting the ignition.  A companionable silence falling between them as they pull out of the hanger and head for home.

****

“ARE you okay?” Esme asks several minutes later.

“Fine,” Tyler replies, his head tilted back against his seat, eyes closed; one hand on his stomach, the other on her thigh, thumb continuously brushing against her skin.  “Just tired. It was a long night. Couldn’t fall asleep and when I did, I had that fucked up dream.” “And you don’t remember what it was about?”

“Nope. It wasn’t one of the usual ones, though. Never had this one before. But it was messed up. I remember that much.”

How do you explain a dream like THAT? That you’d been  willing to sacrifice someone’s life for five million dollars; knowing that a drug lord would have used and abused them  in horrific and degrading ways before killing them? She doesn’t even know about the whole truth about what happened at Gaspar’s. For nearly seven years she’d assumed that the deal had been for Ovi; that Gaspar had been hell bent on killing him and Tyler refused to give the kid up and all hell broke loose.

“Hmmm…” she turns her full attention to the road, chewing absentmindedly on her bottom lip. She’s used to this; his constant need to keep everything inside and shoulder every single burden on his own. It’s his protective nature; not wanting to add any extra stress or worry to her already overflowing plate. “...and things went okay?”

“Everything went fine. Got Koen on board, got everything we need to get started. Things went good. Place doesn’t even look the same anymore. Not inside, anyway.”

“And he’s still okay with letting us stay there?”

“Yup. Just said to make sure we change the sheets. Said he doesn’t want to be lying in our ‘business’.”

She laughs at that.

“Did Nik call you?” he casually and calmly asks, hand sliding onto the inside of her thigh; fingertips against the bare skin just below the hem of her shorts.

“Nik? Why should she call me? I’m probably the last person she wants to hear from after that night at the restaurant. I’m sure she blames me for Kyle calling things off.”

“Well in all fairness, you did kind of instigate the whole thing. Hooking him with the neighbor. Even after I told you to stay out of it and mind your business.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault it was instant lust between them. We know all about that, don’t we.”

He grins.

“But no. She didn’t call. That’s kind of a weird thing to ask, About Nik.”

“She called me,” Tyler admits, and he notices the way both of her brows arch. “Last night. I only answered because I thought it was you and that maybe something was wrong at home.”

“Why would she call you? Was she having a lonely night? Wanted to have phone sex?”

“I didn’t have the energy. I’d already had phone sex with you, so…”

“Boy that must have broken her heart; the fact you keep shooting her down. Maybe she feels if she keeps bugging you enough she’ll wear you down and you’ll give in.”

“Not gonna happen. I already told you; I’m not a cheater. I don’t want anyone else but you. And she actually called to give me shit. I guess word travels faster than we thought it would.”

“Well it was going to happen sooner or later.”

“Later would have been nice.”

“I take it she wasn’t happy.”

Tyler smirks. “That’s one way of putting it. She lost her shit. She’s taking it personally; thinks I did it to purposefully fuck her over and put her out of business.”

“Mercs are jumping ship left, right, and center. I can’t keep up with all the messages and the emails. She’s not going to have anyone left.”

He shrugs. “Guess she shouldn’t have let things go to shit.”

“They went to shit seven years ago when she made the decisions she did. That should have been the end of it; when she was so willing to leave you on the bridge to die. She totally fucked you. And not in a good way. Like whose dick is she sucking that she keeps her job?”

A grin tugs at the corner of Tyler’s mouth. “You’re feisty today.”

“I hope you do put her out of business. I hope she loses everything. Because she fucking deserves it. She’s done a lot of shitty things and I’m glad karma is finally biting her in the ass.”

“She’s not going to go down without a fight. She’s pretty pissed. And pretty determined to make my life hell.”

Esme frowns. “She said that? That she’s going to make your life hell?”

“Not in so many words.”

“Well what did she say? Did she threaten to show up and kick your ass? I’d love to see her try.”

“She just said some shit. About us. When I said something about how my wife and my kids will always be around, she made a comment about how she’ll ‘see about that’.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know. But I told her I wasn’t fucking around. Don’t threaten my family. It didn’t end well for the last person who tried it and it won’t end well for her.” “Nk hardly seems the type that would hurt kids. There’s no doubt in my mind she’d come for me. She’s been wanting me out of the picture for a long time. But to do something to hurt the kids? I can’t see her stooping that low.”

“I don’t think it was a physical threat. Nik’s all about screwing with peoples’ heads. Look what she did to me. She knew I was messed up and she knew exactly what buttons to push to get me to do what she wanted.”

“You think that’s what it is? Psychological warfare? Because she’s never gone up against me and that's a  battle I will not lose. I’ve gone up against bigger and better than her and I’m still here to tell about it. Besides, what could she possibly say that would bother me that much? After everything I’ve been through in the past seven years? Nothing could unnerve me that badly that it would screw things up between us. Look at everything we’ve been through. That shit we’ve survived.  She doesn’t even know HALF of it. Trust me, there’s nothing she could say that could hurt us.”

“It’s Nik. She’ll make shit up if she has to.”

“She can save her breath. I know all your deepest and darkest secrets. So if she thinks she has something to surprise me, she’s got another thing coming. I do, right?” she casts him a sidelong glance. “Know everything I need to know?”

“There’s nothing I haven’t told you. I told you most of it in the first couple of days. Everything else you’ve lived through with me.”

“Then let her make shit up,” Esme shrugs. “I think I trust you word over hers. After everything she’s pulled,  I wouldn’t believe a goddamn word she says. And the fact she’d even threaten you? Like, she knows who she’s talking to, right? Someone who killed two people with one garden rake. That’s really who she wants to go up against?”

“She probably thinks I won’t retaliate. I don’t give a shit what history we have. You don’t threaten my family. Ever.”

“Normally I’d tell you you’re being paranoid and you’re way too overprotective, but this side of you is kind of hot.”

He grins. “Kind of?”

“Totally hot,” she admits, then giggles and shoves his hand away when he slides it towards her crotch. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“What’s gotten into you the last few days? You’re a little...I don’t know...assertive...when it comes to the whole sex thing.”

“I’m not allowed to want to have sex with my life? First I can’t kiss you a certain way, now I can’t have sex with you either?”

“It’s not that you can’t. You’re just a little more...demanding...than usual. Needy.  Needy is a good word for it. And we’ve always had a lot of sex but lately, you’ve just been...extra...about it.”

He gives in an amused smirk. “I’m extra?”

“In a good way,” she assures him.

“Look, I love you. You’re beautiful. You’re sexy. And I want to fuck you. So…”  his hand once again slides along her thigh, slipping under the leg opening of her shorts. Fingertips grazing against the edge of her simple cotton pants. “...when we get home, that’s what we’re going to do. Fuck.”

“Addie and Declan are there. Ovi’s watching them.”

“Send them to his place. Tell him we need half an hour kid free. He’ll know what that means.”

“A half an hour?” she playfully inquires. “When has it only taken half an hour?”

“I’m in a mood,” he replies, and slides a finger under her panties, and she swallows noisily and her entire body tenses when it pushes through her folds and grazes over her clit.

“Obviously. And you’re going to put me in a mood!” She squeezes  her thighs shut, trapping his hand between them. “Stop! I’m trying to drive!”

“Just relax. Let me do this.”

“You’re crazy!”

“Come on…” he grins. “...do it. I know you want to. It’s something we’ve never done before. You can’t tell me you don’t want to try. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Oh I don’t know, Tyler. I could crash and kill us both and our kids would be orphans. That’s pretty much the worst.”

“Do it…” he encourages. “...open your legs...let me do this for you...let me make you feel good.”

She glances at him out of the corner of her eyes.

“Our little secret,” his grin widens. “I promise.”

“You're insane. You really are.”

“Maybe. But I can feel how wet you are. “I know you want it just as much as I do. Just do it. Just this once. Let me to this for you.”

She sighs heavily, thighs releasing the grip on his hand.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, swallowing noisily when he slips another finger between her folds, watching her face as the tips press against her clit. Noticing the flush that creeps into her cheeks and the tips of her ears, the way her teeth dig painfully into her bottom lip.

“You really are a bad influence,” she half-heartedly complains.

“Yeah,” he agrees, as his fingers continue their ministrations.  “But you love me though.”

She doesn’t even attempt to deny it.

[mahou-queen]

Spreenow / Taobao Item Review

Hello all, recently I used a shopping service called spreenow to order some things from taobao, and I wanted to review the items I got as well as the service I used.

♡The backstory:  I’ve been wearing lolita for approximately 10 years and I have never used a shopping service to buy from overseas despite how much I wanted to, I was afraid to. I had heard over and over that it was so complicated and confusing and you had to be really careful and blah blah blah. Back in my early lolita days there was no devilinspired, or my lolita dress. We had clobbaonline and their site was much smaller, very limited, and you had to order through their email. Today I am here to tell you that using a shopping service is not scary or difficult! I got fed up with losing money to resellers and decided that since I needed so much stuff I was going to use a shopping service to buy directly from taobao and save some money!

♡The info: If you don’t know, or are new to lolita; taobao is a Chinese website that hosts a bunch of sellers shops, kind of like Amazon. However, almost no shops offer shipping overseas so to shop there you have to use a shopping service.

A shopping service is someone who buys the items for you and then sends them to you, like a middleman basically. They charge a fee, usually 10% of the order total. I used spreenow at the recommendation of another lolita. 

♡The review:

this is spreenow.com. To order, all you have to do is (make an account first) put the taobao link in their search bar. 

Here I entered a link for this cute cardigan from taobao brand Cute Q here is the link if you’re interested: https://item.taobao.com/item.htm?spm=a1z0k.7386009.0.d4919233.3d761955DhQP65&id=621813887915&_u=t2dmg8j26111

As you can see, you can select the size and color you want and then add to cart. Very easy. Once your cart is ready, you submit the cart, Spreenow checks the cart and then you have to pay.

**note** spreenow does not email you when things are ready, you have to check back to the site periodically.

paying was the only ~kind of~  hard part because instead of paying directly, you have to add funds to your account. They call this “Top up” they do all the conversions for you so you know exactly how much to transfer for the currency conversion. They do accept paypal!

after that they order the items, pack them, you pay shipping in the same way (through top up) and they mail them to you. The customer service is very good, they respond very quickly and their English is perfect. You can continue to add to the same order over time as long as it has not shipped. They offer lots of shipping options so you can find one that fits your needs and budget. I found the entire process to be amazingly simple. I saved approximately $50 by using spreenow instead of devilinspired and was able to get things that devilinspired does not carry. I highly recommend spreenow as a shopping service! 

If you want to make an account and shop use my link here~ https://www.spreenow.com/category/c38854/

♡The items:

Shimotsuki Sakyua star choker in black (https://item.taobao.com/item.htm?spm=a1z0k.7386009.0.d4919233.3d761955DhQP65&id=524266691258&_u=t2dmg8j26111)

The choker is very well made, feels high quality and is soft against my throat. It’s a bit small, I have to have it on the biggest size to wear it, so I may add some chain to the end to make it more comfortable. The only odd thing is that its left handed? the clasp is on the opposite side of what I’m used to with western necklaces so that threw me off a little. Otherwise its beautiful and nicely made. ★★★★✩

Loris star crossbody in gold (https://item.taobao.com/item.htm?spm=a1z0k.7386009.0.d4919233.3d761955DhQP65&id=523282283992&_u=t2dmg8j26111)

As always, loris is high quality and well made. I have other bags from loris and they’re all excellent. This bag feels nice, sturdy, has 1 interior zip, looks cute. Its exactly what I wanted. I have no complaints ★★★★★

Lucky star flutter sleeve blouse in lavender (https://item.taobao.com/item.htm?spm=a1z0k.7386009.0.d4919233.3d761955DhQP65&id=548230015367&_u=t2dmg8j26111)

Needs a bit of a steam but this blouse fits me perfectly! It’s very pretty, I love the unique sleeve style. It feels light, airy, whimsical. The color isn't too warm. I tried to take a pic of it worn under a JSK so you could see the fit. It’s very comfortable and I kind of want to buy it again in another color. ★★★★★

Lucky star trumpet sleeve blouse in black (https://item.taobao.com/item.htm?spm=a1z0k.7386009.0.d4919233.3d761955DhQP65&id=558661985437&_u=t2dmg8j26111)

This blouse is also great fitting, comfortable, soft, and lovely. I have wanted a black blouse for ages and I’m very happy with this one. The sleeves hit me slightly short (which I like), I would not recommend this one for tall lolitas.  ★★★★★

Leaf Sister (???) horoscope headdress (https://item.taobao.com/item.htm?spm=a1z0k.7386009.0.d4919233.3d761955DhQP65&id=561382247288&_u=t2dmg8j26111)

THIS is the item that actually pushed me to use spreenow in the first place. It wasn't available on any reseller sites and i HAD to have it as it goes perfectly with several coords I am planning. It is very very well made, comfortable and cute. I am extremely happy with it. This is the first rectangle headdress I have ever owned and I cannot wait to wear it to meets. ★★★★★

Halloween Alice strawberry love check accessories (https://item.taobao.com/item.htm?spm=a1z0k.7386009.0.d4919233.3d761955DhQP65&id=610460744258&_u=t2dmg8j26111)

This was something I added onto my cart at a later date. I was nervous about the rings because I didn't know if they were adjustable so I was relieved when I found they are! Really cute, there was some hot glue strings left on my hair clips, nothing I couldn't just peel off though.  ★★★★★

BONUS~~ I received some small free gifts, I do not know if these were from spreenow, or came with something I ordered?

I got 2 blue bow clips, 2 cute strawberry clips, and this......odd.....embroidery? ? ? it is a 2 way clip, its plush, there are carrots, i don’t know what else that’s suppose to be. I probably will not use it but It did give me a good chuckle so thank you to whoever these gifts came from. 

♡ TLDR Spreenow is easy to use and saved me a lot of money. I highly recommend their service. All the items I got were excellent, mostly 5 stars. I am very happy with and recommend everything I got as well as the shops they came from. I hope this review made using a SS a little less intimidating. If you want to start using spreenow to save some money on lolita, and you liked my review, please use my affiliate link to sign up :)

https://www.spreenow.com/category/c38854/

*this is not sponsored. I was not asked or paid to review spreenow or any of the items I purchased. Everything I reviewed I personally paid for except where mentioned. Using my affiliate link only allows me to purchase more lolita items from taobao for review. Thank you.

[bestillmyslashyheart]

the one left behind

In hindsight, it made sense. Roswell was home, for all of them, but that didn’t mean it was safe. At the time, of course, it felt like one hit after another and Maria wasn’t sure how she would survive. 

Liz was first. Or, more accurately, Rosa was first. Waking up from a decade long coma to the realization that the world thought you were dead and hated you for it would be a shock for anyone. For Rosa, it was the last straw. She’d always been planning to leave, had been trying to leave when Noah-via-Isobel killed her. To her credit, she made it almost two weeks in 2019 before she split, stealing Liz’s car and leaving Roswell in her rearview mirror. 

Maria had barely gotten over the shock of seeing Rosa alive (and learning that aliens were real and had both tried to kill her and revived her) before Liz was hugging her tightly and apologizing profusely. She’d lost her sister once, like hell was she going to do it again. Less than a day after Rosa left, Liz piled her stuff into Max’s car and took off after her. 

The next one surprised her more than she’d thought possible. Rosa Ortecho, alive and well? She could (eventually) wrap her mind around that. Michael Guerin packing up his truck and his Airstream and leaving Roswell? That was somehow harder. Guerin had been her constant. While Liz and Alex had left, Guerin had always been there, ever present and utterly dependable in his own weird way. Maria wasn’t sure she’d ever forget the image of him driving his trailer past the Welcome to Roswell sign. 

He didn’t plan on coming back. He hadn’t actually said those words when he told her was leaving but she didn’t need to be a psychic to see that. Roswell held too many painful memories and not enough good ones. 

With Guerin gone, Maria supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised that Isobel followed not long after. Of course, she said she wasn’t actually following him, something about them each needing to find their own paths, but she didn’t stick around town for long after he was gone. She packed up her house, setting a spectacular bonfire of all of Noah’s things in the process, and sold her house. She gave Maria her phone number and email address in case something alien happened and she needed to get in touch but she didn’t leave a forwarding mailing address. Maria suspected that was because Isobel had no idea where she was going. She was probably going to get in her car and drive until she didn’t see her abusive ex-husband or Max’s ghost around every corner. 

It was a stressful month, to say the least. In 30 days, Maria went from maybe starting a relationship with her best friend’s ex to finding out aliens were real and one of her oldest friends in the world was alive and well after a decade, to losing the people she’d unexpectedly grown closest to. The only ones left in Roswell with her were Kyle Valenti and Alex. And she and Alex weren’t speaking. 

It would have made sense in high school for her and Kyle to be friends. He dated her best friend for almost three years, after all, but they’d never been close. It was strange, being close to 30 and finally getting to see just what it was Liz had seen in that dick of a teenager Kyle had been. He was actually a pretty cool guy, Maria was happy to find out.

It made his departure a month after Isobel’s hurt all the worse. She knew the second he walked into the Pony that night that she wasn’t going to like what he had to say. His aura was shrouded in guilt but also exquisite happiness. Between that and his face, she knew before he opened his mouth that he was leaving, too.

“Where to next, Dr. Valenti?” She plastered a smile on her face as she served him his usual without waiting for him to order.

He glanced at the drink and then her face and smiled crookedly. “Nigeria, first, I think.”

Maria arched an eyebrow in question.

“I was accepted to work with Doctors Without Borders. I need to leave within the week.” As he spoke, he couldn’t quite keep the smile off his face, his lips turning upwards almost against his will and Maria couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“Kyle, that’s awesome.” She reached across the bar to squeeze his hand. “I’m really happy for you.”

“Thanks, Maria.” His smile was bright against the slight gloom in the bar. “I’m sorry to leave you here-”

Maria waved him off. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Always am,” she added cheekily. His smile turned a little sad but she wouldn’t let it drop. “So. Tell me all about it. When did you hear about it?”

She let him prattle on happily about his new job and the next week she gave him a proper send off, on the house. He sent her a lovely worded text very early the next morning that told her he both appreciated and resented the night. In other words, it was perfect.

And then there were two.

It was strange to think that she and Alex had once been as close as siblings. She’d known that kissing Michael would be a mistake but she hadn’t fully understand the ramifications until she’d lost Alex. Oh, he was always friendly and polite when they crossed paths, but the warmth and close friendship they’d once shared was gone. Maria had hope that the one silver lining to finding out everyone had been lying to her for months and then losing them one by one would be that she and Alex could bond again but that hadn’t happened.

In the month following Isobel’s departure, Maria only ever saw him for more than a second when he was with Kyle. They’d come into the Pony some nights and he’d make friendly conversation but he always kept his distance, emotionally speaking. Even his aura was closed off to her. After Kyle left, it was like Alex became a ghost. He didn’t come into the Pony anymore and she never saw him in passing around town. If she hadn’t overheard someone mentioning seeing him in the grocery store, she might’ve thought he’d left to.

But he couldn’t. The one good part about his military service, Maria struggled to think, was that he was obligated to stay in Roswell until he was discharged. 

It was almost two months after Kyle left, over three since Rosa came back to life and everyone fled Roswell like it was on fire, when Maria put on her big girl pants and drove out to Sheriff Valenti’s old hunting cabin. She’d had to ask Kyle where Alex lived and if that wasn’t an indication of how lackluster of an attempt they’d made to reconnect when Alex moved home, she didn’t know what was. Even before Michael came between them, they hadn’t been the friends they once were and Maria missed him.

The truck parked next to the cabin was standing with its doors flung open and the trunk half full of boxes when Maria drove up. She fingered the bottle of tequila in the passenger seat before leaving it there as she got out of the car. 

The front door to the cabin was wide open and she could hear someone moving around inside. Grunts and curses filled the air as Alex came stumbling through the door, a large box in his hands. Maria waited as he shuffled over to his car and added the box to the load.

“Hey,” she greeted softly when his hands were free. Alex tensed but didn’t look to startled so she assumed he’d heard her pull up. “Going somewhere?”

Alex sighed and nodded, turning towards her with a blank expression. “New posting.”

Maria blinked in surprise. “What? You’re being relocated? I thought your service was up?”

“It was,” he admitted slowly. “And then I re-upped. Turns out they don’t need me in Roswell so I have a week to report to my new posting. Which is not in New Mexico.” He turned away and disappeared into the house. Maria followed before she could think better of it.

“You’re leaving?” Maria asked, needing him to say it again for some reason.

“Yes.” 

Maria opened her mouth to say something then closed it again when she realized she didn’t have anything to say. Alex didn’t pause in his movements. He moved slowly but surely through the living room and kitchen, piling the last of his things into boxes and taping them up. 

“Were you going to tell me?” Maria’s voice wavered and she cleared her throat. “Or was I going to find out you were gone too by coming out to an empty cabin?”

Alex chuckled. It wasn’t a pleasant sound. “Why would you be coming out here? I’ve been back over a year and you’ve never come by. Not once. I didn’t even think you knew where I was living, honestly.” Maria looked away, unwilling to admit she’d had to email Kyle for his address. Liz hadn’t known either when she’d asked her. “But yes, I was going to tell you. I was planning to stop by the Wild Pony on my way out of town.”

“Oh. That’s g-,” Maria cleared her throat. “Thank you. I guess.”

“Everyone else is gone,” Alex commented idly as he taped up another box. “Didn’t want to disappear without a word. Just in case you might-” He stopped.

“Might what?” Maria asked. “Worry?” She barked out a harsh laugh. “Do you honestly think I wouldn’t worry if you were gone? Hell, I’ve been worried about you since you left for Basic Training ten years ago. I thought we were coming up on the end of my having to worry about you. But no, you had to go sign up for more!” Alex didn’t turn around and it only stoked her anger. “Why the hell would you go back for more, Alex?”

“Why not?” He didn’t quite shrug. “Being in the military gives me access to the Project Shepherd files and the means to dig deeper.” Maria had to wrack her brain for a moment to remember what Project Shepherd was before remembering the massive government conspiracy into Michael and his family. 

“You’re doing this for Michael.” Maria had meant for it to be a question but it came out a statement. 

Alex paused in his movements. “Partly,” he agreed. “But I’m also doing it to undo every evil thing my family’s ever done. And because I didn’t have any particular reason not to do it.” He straightened up and turned to face her. “Look, why are you here Maria? Is there something you need?”

She stared at him for a beat before shaking her head and shrugging. “I miss you. I miss- I don’t know, I miss my friend. I know things got fucked up between us and I wanted to try and fix that.”

Alex nodded slowly. “Yeah. Things did get fucked. And- and I’d like to fix it too but I don’t think we can. At least not now.”

“So that’s it?” Maria swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat. She’d had breakups hurt less than this.

Alex ran a hand over his hair. “I don’t know, Maria. If I was staying in Roswell I’d say no, of course not, we’d fix it. But I’m leaving. And I don’t know where I’ll be posted next but I can pretty much guarantee it won’t be here.”

Maria nodded. “And after? Where will you go when your service is up? Or will you keep re-upping?”

“I don’t know. You’re asking me something that I probably won’t think about for another four years, at least.”

“Right. Sorry, I guess I don’t know. I guess I’m wondering if this is the last time we’ll ever see each other.” Maria wrapped her arms around her stomach, hugging herself lightly. “I don’t- I don’t want this to be the end of us, Alex. How can- how can we just be out of each other’s lives like this?”

Alex sat down heavily on a chair. “I don’t know, Maria.” Maria was really getting sick of hearing him say that. “I don’t feel like this is something we can fix through a phone. Maybe it’s better to just let it go. Remember the good times we had growing up.”

Maria breathed out through her nose. “I’m really fucking sick of having memories and shit else. I get- I get that Liz had to leave because of Rosa. Hell, I get that Kyle got a job he couldn’t say no to. I get that the Air Force tells you where to go and you can’t argue with that. Hell, I even get why Isobel freaking Evans split town. But what about me? Everyone’s so desperate to leave this town and all its bad memories behind while I’m still here. I’m still here and I get lumped in with the bad memories. And now you want to- to just- pretend we stopped being friends after high school?!” Maria closed her eyes. “I’m really sick of people leaving, Alex.”

Alex didn’t say anything. Eventually, she heard a shuffling sound as he got to his feet and started walking. Maria pressed her eyes closer together so she wouldn’t have to watch him walk out the door and leave her to her tears.

The arms that wrapped around her shoulders were a surprise but Maria didn’t dwell on that. She just sank into Alex’s embrace and buried her face in his shoulder as he hugged her tight.

“Y’know,” Alex began quietly after a while. “You’re not the first to point out I have a history of leaving and not staying in touch.” He paused. “I’m trying this new thing I like to call not being a shitty friend. I’m not great at it, admittedly. But I’m willing to try. If you want to.”

She nodded into his shoulder. “I do. We’re probably going to suck at it. At least at first.”

“Probably,” he agreed. “But we’re quick learners, right?”

“Right.” Her voice sounded firmer than she felt.

Alex left not long after that. Turns out, she’d shown up on his literal last day in Roswell and he couldn’t stick around or he wouldn’t make it to his next posting in time. Maria broke out the tequila and they toasted farewell to the cabin and then she helped him load up the last of his boxes before watching him drive away.

[lockdownuk]

Lockdown Diary Part 7

A personal account during the lockdown in the UK due to the Covid-19 outbreak.

23/03/2020 8:30pm Boris Johnson, UK Prime Minister, gives a live address to the nation to, effectively, put the country on lockdown to stem the spread of the deadly coronavirus strain, Covid-19.

Many of us have been self-isolating for days but this latest development within the UK in reaction to the pandemic feels very serious and very scary. I decided to keep a simple diary and where better but online.

Day 181: Typing on day 182. I received an email from someone at DSM who had got my CV from Helen Proctor (she was the manager that interviewed me along with the founder) and wants me to interview for a IT business consultant role for a shoe firm (Loakes) in Kettering. I called the chap and had a quick chat and arranged it for Wednesday.

A few beers, as it’s Friday, and caught up via video chat with Foggy and Irish Mike (Foggy’s on quarantine having holidayed in the south of France). It was a late one and they were both pissed, but nice to chat. Andy and Ham were meant to join but were no shows - Ham had his sister’s funeral this week - might explain it.

Day 182: I messaged Ham - he went round his folk’s house after work last night as his two sisters were there. I have to admit, I am ignorant of all of Ham’s brothers and Sisters so he may well have meant one was Preaya in an urn.

Someone on the Oundle Chatter FB group asked about Google Hangouts (on behalf of her son who is attending college and they have online classes using it. I am now about to look into it for her. Why did I get involved. It’s 8pm on a Saturday, ffs!

Update, I researched it and messaged her - seems I hit a nail on the head and she seemed suitably grateful. Booze and pizza coming right up (at 9:15pm)

Day 183: Up at just before 2pm - I drank shed loads last night and went to bed after 4am. Faffed about but did manage my stair climb, a 10km walk and I am now making a roast dinner-ish tea (chicken breast stuffed with red leicester and wrapped in bacon) with all the veg and yorkies (I am trying to empty the freezer as it needs defrosting).

Day 184: I posted on FB that today was half a leap year of lockdown (that’s wrong, should have been yesterday). Rachel replied that it isn’t lockdown anymore. I replied that it is for me but that got me thinking - are we officially in lockdown still? Checked, and we are. Posted that on the same thread and Badger replied that the current level of lockdown has been uprated to level 4, whatever that actually means. Rachel’s post worries me - 1. ‘cos it’s indictative of the far-too-relaxed attitude and, 2. I wasn’t even sure even though I’m still observing the same lockdown behaviour that I was before Boris made his announce on March 23rd. Scary how facts bleed into fiction. 

Jim contacted me today, asked me to call. I did so, he says I’ll be asked to return to work (from home) on the 5th October (two weeks). Shirley from HR will be in contact. I’ll believe when I see the email from her! 

Day 185: Boris announced a tightening of the relaxed lockdown including pubs shutting at 10pm. None of it really affects me since I’m still in as full a lockdown as when it started.

Received an email from John Morton at DSM for an interview at Loakes tomorrow (Wed) at 09:30am.

Received a Facebook message from the editor at Oundle Chronicle - he wants to do a short article about the photos I take and post on the Oundle Chatter fb group.

Day 186: Interview went ok.

Called Dad and Rita to let them know that I received an email from RCI confirming that I will be back at work on the 5th of October.

In the evening, Facebook had posts concerning somebody walking round Creed Road with a knife in his hand, and the police getting involved!

Day 187: Spend spend spend. Paid my speeding fine today £357, my water bill £147, bought two new duvet cover sets and two new sheets £58, a new pair of walking boots (my relatively new Hi-Tec are leaking and falling apart) £75. Oh, and the car insurance renews day after tomorrow, £230. Thank fucking fuck I’m being taken off furlough!

Day 188: Friday and I’m going to have a few beers and watch a couple of films.  I’ve been trawling through Seinfeld and am most the way through S3, and it’s brilliant. The Kramer character is mentally good. One episode had the actress who played Janice in Friends - that episode is a classic - which also included an scene whereby the cast are all exclaiming ‘Saturday night’ similar to the Friends TikTok trend. Got a call this morning about a service delivery lead role for EPM, a education service provider, based in Huntingdon. It’s a good role, very involved, reporting directly to the head of IT. But it’s only £32k pa. I replied to the email the recruiter subsequently sent to say I am interested but that salary is less than £5k pa than I am on now as a 2nd line support techie!  Lastly, I am well on my way to doing 500,000 steps in September!

Day 189: I was woken by the doorbell - a delivery of one of the duvet cover sets. On the door mat was a missed parcel delivery note from Ryal Mail (I have to get whatever it is from Warmington PO) and a note from next door (No. 34) asking for me to turn my music down at 10.30pm. That’s fair enough but....10.30pm! What are they, 80 years old? I have felt low today. There is no rhyme nor reason as to my moods suffice to say I am not of the happiest dispostion on a permanent basis, resigned to being alone. In fact, I have come to terms with the fact I’ll die alone but, it seems, some days I cope with it a lot worse than others. On that cheery note, it’s 8.45 pm on a Saturday night so, I am about to launch into some beers, weed and pizza. I think tonight I’ll seek out the second John Wick film - watch the first last night - so fucking good. You gotta love Keanu!

Day 190: Hopefully the last Sunday of having an enforced no-work-on-Monday so I’m going to have a beer or two (it’s now 8:20pm - just cracked open a Bud), watch American Sniper and eat Chilli and naan bread and onion rings. I did a 12 km walk today - I recall a time when 40-45 minuts walking was enough. Today’s walk was 2 hours! I know it’s only walking but I feel fitter than I have for years; still unfit, but fitter. Day 191: Well, I enjoyed the decadence of boozing last night but it meant getting up at after midday! Still managed two walks, trip to Tesco’s in Hampton after picking up the mystery parcel from Warmington PO. It was two unknown bottles of beer for a marketing campaign I entered a few days ago! I have to not open the beers until I receive instruction whereby I’ll be joining in with other drinkers in video chat! Day 192: Smahed 500k steps for September with one day to go! Cleaned the kitchen - I’m going to do the whole house over the next few days while I have the free time since I’m back to work on Monday.  The lad from next door called round this eveing to ask if I got the note. When I said yes, he told me they (he and his partner) can still hear music. FFS! I asked where their bedroom was, it’s along side mine, so I guess it’s the TV sound that is travelling up and disturbing them. Great, fuck knows what I should do if I want to watch anything after 10:30pm. I suppose going back to work is good timing..I shall be going to bed around that time myself, especially if I want to get up early to get a walk in before starting at 09.00 am.

Day 193: Typing on day 194. Only managed one walk today, before 9.00am. It made a great change walking that early. I then set about doing housework (which I started yesterday) - I want to clean the house from top to bottom before going back to work. i.e. while I have time during the working week. I did the Kitchen yesterday and the whole lounge today. It’s fucking knackering. I managed 519k steps in September, works out at 9.6 miles per day, which is good and, also, annoying. I have taken delivery and laundered all my new bedding. It’s brushed cotton lushness, can’t wait to try it. Last ‘happy hour’ of (this current) furlough, so I had beers (and a fucking spicey sausage casserole)...hence penning this a day late.

Day 194: I didn’t get out of bed until nearly 2pm, FFS. Spome with Ricky Roberts about kayaking, it sound sliek something I could take up but, I would need to join the boat club to have somewhere to get in and out!

Day 195: Sueanne from work called to let me know she’s taking over from Jim ‘til new yer and that the team are looking forward to my return - lovely. Dad called, he and Rita are fine as usual - lovely.

Day 196: Got up fater 2pm. I was seriously fucking wasted last night. Had a video chat with Fog - just checked, it ended at 02.04am and I did a lot more drinking and smoking after that. I still managed a 9.7km walk and am now going to settle down to a few (just a few!) beers, shepherds pie and watch Casino. Day 197: Quiet Sunday with some bizarre results in Super Sunday in the prem. Man U lost at home to Spurs 1-6 and Liverpool were thrashed at Villa Park, 7-2. Work tomorrow, feeling a little apprehensive, not sure why. Got to go to the office (to reset password) at 09.00am

Day 198: Back to work. It went OK. I had to go to the office so that my a/c could be enabled and password reset and t get VPN working. There were a few problems but I was back home and logged in OK in the afternoon. Saw Mark in the office - he’s lost weight and was telling me about a cycling accident - I knew about it, but I didn’t realise he had been in hospital and had a plate put in his shoulder. He also has the exact same issue with codeine as me! I am pleased to be back at work but it’s different - no Jim and Sueanne in charge is the main thing. I’m just going to keep my head down; it’ll be for the best.

Day 199: Second day back at work and I’m (trying to) crack on with it. It’s all coming back... New walking boots arrived today (I have them on as I type); I reckon I’ll be OK to walk in them with no breaking in. That’s just as well as my evening walk took me by the marina and the path between the lock, the small bridge and, especially, the larger bridge into the field at the bottom of Basset Ford Road was flooded, no way my boots will be dry for tomorrow.  I did my stair climb before work, 3.5 km walk at lunchtime and then a long, second one, as mentioned, later. I want to try and do a short walk before work in future, hopefully. On the way back from the lunchtime walk, I saw the lad from next door who thanked for me keeping the music down as per the note he left, so, that’s all good.

Day 200: I’ve started a work diary,  à la ENDC....nowhere as urgently required but I just think it’s a good idea.

I wore my new boots for the lunchtime walk (3.6km) and they’re fine. However, I didn’t use them in the evening, they niggled the left foot a bit, so some breaking in is required. My usual ones were just about dry enough having been sat on the radiator! Day 201: Popped into the office today to pick up my full headset dongle, did a quick shop at Asda. So, only one walk today. I have not yet managed to get a walk in before work, just the stair climb, so missed out on a lunchtime walk today since I was shopping. Did 8.5km in the evening. Bought a card online for K’s birthday. Not sure why, we seem not to be communicating - I haven’t heard from her for over a month now which, as mentioned before, I shouldn’t find as hard as I do. The card’s pretty cool though, a quip about just getting a card as a present would involve non-essential travel. Now I am back at work, I want a to do loist app. I recall a smart one that was a linear/curved affair that I saw on Producthunt but, fuck me, I couldn’t find it after over an hour looking. Then I checked Google apps and there it was (Lightpad.ai) - I was chuffed and relieved. The lad from oundle School has been trying to get hold of me via Messenger (he tells me by email) so he can interview for the article in the Chronicle. He has pencilled in Saturday at 6pm.Fuck knows if it will go ahead, the whole thing is sketchy. Day 202: First week back at work over and done. I ordered some stuff from Amazon (slippers and socks) and they offered a free trial of Prime, which is the norm, but, seeing as I have had a free trial under that a/c, I assumed it would error, as I have seen before. This time it didn’t! So, tonight, I just about to have some beers, eat pizza and watch The Gentlemen,. It was suggested by Miles on FB when I asked for  recommendations. It’s been on my to-watch list since its release. I need some cheering up, I’m having a low ebb today.Day 203: Typing on day 204. The Gentlemen was pretty good. I had lots of beers and smoke and went to bed fucking late, gone 4am. Up at lunchtime. I was meant to be going up Foggy’s for a few beers and to listen to Cobblers vs Posh but I sacked that off. I went for a walk at tea time when it got dark fucking quick and pissed down. I didn’t mind ‘cos Posh won 0-2. I watched two films in the evening: Master and Commander: Far Side of the World and Official Secrets. Both excellent. Day 204: Another late night, so up at just before 2pm. 12.64 km walk! I’m going to make stirfry and watch Knives Out...taking advantage of Amazon Prime.Day 205: I didn’t watch Knives Out last night, Amazon Prime was playing up. Tonight, however, after uninstalling and reinstalling the LG app, it’s working again. But, rather than a film, I have started watching The Boys series. 3/4 through the first episode and I’m kinda hooked. Another long walk tonight (I didn’t go out before work or at lunchtime), over 5 miles. My new boots are a marvel...they’re still new - I can tell I’ve got a little bit of wearing in still to do, but, pretty much from the off, I can walk long distances in them. I’m impressed. I think, because they are so light, they may be susceptible to the cold, especially now I can walk for longer periods without hypo-ing. The snow and frost will be the test.Day 206: Bit of a frustrating day at work. I am pleased I have a diary of events to update, that’s all I will say on this potentially public diary. Had a chat with Mark about certain aspects of the day, it was a good chat whereby he agreed with some of my gripes. In the evening I took part in a Ipsos marketing test of two beers with a whole bunch of people online. Ultimately, you have to choose one of two beers you prefer and answer questions why. It’s then revelaed which beer you chose. The beer I iked best was Stella but 4.6%, I think that’s the next product iine for them. You don’t get to find out the other beer. I shoudl recieve a £15 amazon voucher for partaking. If that actually happens, I’m going to buy a pair of gaiters. My new boots are fab (although I did turn my ankle last night) but their insides don’t half attract gravel and debris.Day 207: A productive day incorporating ToDoist with work and GCal, I have sacked off Lightpad.ai (it was too cumbersome moving tasks between dates) - so I managed to tick a few things off the task list as a result (responding to Jo Broom’s voicemail, chasing an eye appointmen, for example). Tim came round and did the garden, nice chinwag. I saw little Derek the other day, as well, he’s not coping great with the whole pandemic atm, certainly now lockdown has relaxed, he’s not as social as before. Day 208: Had a chat with Sueanne today, which is not unusal, and I was asking about creating KBs...she remarked how well, and quickly, I getting up to speed. It pleased me. I am having battered fishcakes, potato wedges and peas for tea. I am looking forward to it the most ridiculous amount (it’s cooking as I type). I shall eat as I watch more of the rather excellent The Boys. Seinfeld is on the back burner atm. Day 209: Emily Folgate’s room mate at uni has tested positive for Covid19! Marc’s avoiding the pub and I am glad I didn’t pop up there last Saturday! Bumped into Ash and Dee when i walked past the vets, chatted for 5 mins, it was really nice to see them. The lady next door (38) stopped me outside to say she recently realised that it was me who posts photos to FB, and said they’re ‘amazing’! End of week 2 back at work. As I type, I’m on my first beer, about to have many more and a smoke, half way through The Trial of the Chicago 7 on Netflix. Living the dream! Day 210: Things got messy last night. Sugar levels were a mess. I couldn’t even make it upstairs at one point, laid down on the long rug nursing a big bottle of coke. Got up at around 1pm and did usual shit, now having a beer, spicy sausage casserole in the oven (and it is fucking spicy) and I’ll pick a film to watch in a bit. Posh won, 2-0 at home to Oxford, up to 4th, one point behind Lincoln.

[justforsmiles]

I’m quitting Tumblr

I’m making the decision to leave Tumblr. @staff @support

Having been on Tumblr since 2010, I never really thought about when this day would come, but now more than ever, I don’t see why not. 

It has been a great journey, I won’t forget that. From writing little poems to writing more about my personal experiences to reblogging Cyanide and Happiness comics, to memes, dogs,  motivational quotes, inspirational images and building a positive community of my own, it felt so empowering and gave me something to look forward to during my high school and my college years. 

It was addictive. It felt rewarding when I was featured on Tumblr’s “radar”- hand-picked showcase of creative, interesting, and awesome posts. It was my go-to mood booster. I read up on news, learned new terms, saved a ton of hilarious, fun gifs (back when Tumblr did not have a button to easily look up gifs and what not), became heavily invested in social justice issues, posted my ideas, learnings, what I stand for, and have people thank me and my blog for existing.   

I connected with other people from all over the world. I met up with two of my Tumblr friends in person. I could share my thoughts, genuine interests, and have it liked and reblogged by thousands? It felt like a platform I was never ever going to see myself exit from. 

Until the start of this year. I don’t feel safe on Tumblr.

On December 17, 2018, Tumblr’s ban on adult content went into effect (after the fact that Tumblr’s official app was removed from Apple’s App Store over the discovery of child pornography on the site). That meant that all pictures, GIFs, and videos that feature erotic content will be removed from the site. 

A reblogged photo from back in 2011 of a newborn’s feet was flagged but when a porn blog (blacksinasian) decides to share my (fully clothed) self portraits and write crude things on it, impersonate me in writing those things to lead people to my Tumblr and social media- that is not okay. 

I had to find out through Instagram DMs when some people let me know that they saw me on Tumblr, asked if I had Tumblr and if I knew that my pictures were being circulated on Tumblr. 

This is screwed up on so many levels. I never agreed to allow my content to be used in this way. The blog decided to repeatedly take my content and twist it in their own nasty words. 

This is unwanted harassment and violation of community guidelines, but Tumblr decides to do ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. 

I sent in a support request January 21, 2019. I received NO reply whatsoever and followed up on February 5, 2019 to which I receive a reply to on February 11, 2019 with the following:

Hello,

Thank you for writing in. It sounds like you may be reporting a violation of our Community Guidelines instead of a technical issue on the site. In order to more quickly and efficiently handle this, we ask that you use our online Abuse forms located here:

https://www.tumblr.com/abuse

To report a post in the mobile apps, just click the share icon (that paper airplane) and choose "Report." That'll open the form and you can tell us what you're reporting from there. To report an entire blog, tap the blog's username to view their blog, then tap the little human icon, and then tap "Report."

Please select the form that most closely corresponds to the violation you’re reporting, which will help us correctly route your complaint.

We appreciate you taking the time to write in.

Jay,

Tumblr Community Support

_

That was a slap in the face. It was a response that was like, oh, seems like you sent in your request to the wrong department, here, try again, I won’t bother reading your request and helping you to route it to the right place and resolve it ASAP. That was terrible customer service for someone who has been a loyal user since 2010. Thanks a lot, Justin. Or as you called yourself in the email, Jay. 

After reporting abuse and writing the description of the abuse AGAIN, I received an automatic message from Tumblr Trust & Safety with the below message:

Hello,

Thanks for bringing this to our attention. We're checking out the content and will determine an action appropriate to our policies and procedures.

In the meantime, we do strongly suggest you block this user. If you need help doing so, have a look at the docs (

https://www.tumblr.com/docs/en/social#blockactions

). Blocked users can't follow you, can’t see your posts on their dashboard, reblog your posts, like your posts, or do anything else with your posts. You also won't get Asks or Fan Mail from users you've blocked, and you won’t appear in their search results.

Keep in mind that we don’t notify bloggers that you’ve blocked them—although they may realize it if they try to reblog one of your posts, say, and are prevented from doing so.

Tumblr Trust & Safety

Tumblr.com/abuse

_

Gee, thank you so darn much. Can you tell me something actually valuable in less words? The fact that Tumblr could not give less of a crap about this shows just how hopeless Tumblr is. Take a hard look at your own Community Guidelines  and tell me that you’ve done everything you can to uphold all of that. Theblacksinasian blog clearly violated some of these guidelines and they’re still out there, posting away. No suspended account, no consequences. And I’m left here spending countless amount of time and effort in writing something that Tumblr will most likely ignore for the umpteenth time. 

Yeah sure, thank you for being the platform from which I got to experience laughs, meaningful conversations, humor, and encouragement. That can be found elsewhere. This just isn’t worth it. 

Goodbye. 

To all my wonderful mutuals and friends old or new on here, you can find me on Instagram.