#not still be living in Florida in the same county we went to school in

[midwit]

[horselover107]

You know:

I live in Florida. I am registered in a small swing county in Florida.

I volunteered to pass out voter guides in front of my local library. I mailed out get out to vote reminders with the Unitarian Universalists.

I got hired for a paid gig knocking on doors for a local house candidate. I personally was hitting like 60 doors a shift, sometimes in spread out neighborhoods. They hired a lot of people for this gig and they were a pretty massive operation.

My GF (who admittedly is in a less swingy, famously more blue neighboring county) bought a yard flag that said Childless Dog Ladies for Kamala. The neighbors complimented it.

And I thought…you know maybe. There was an undeniable amount of enthusiasm for a democratic candidate I honestly had not seen since I was in middle school during Obama’s first election. Like there genuinely seemed to be this shift in the air.

I knew the numbers. That a lot of people had moved away and that we added a lot of republican voters post 2020 fleeing their blue states that didn’t let them wear masks or group up too early. That came here with work from home jobs, and created an affordable apartment shortage. But that enthusiasm. And people wanted 4, the abortion amendment. Even with the no signs some conservatives had, even with the attack ads, I was talking directly to voters at their doorsteps and so many said that was their big issue.

Im queer, in a same sex relationship. I’m in my 30s. My five year plan probably includes IVF at some point with a same sex partner. And I know how at stake that is.

My county went red. Barely. But barely still gives them the votes. My candidate I door knocked for lost. Barely. But barely doesn’t put her in the house. The abortion bill did not pass. Barely, it had the “popular vote” in every county at one point in the night, but it needed a 60 percent threshold. The legalized weed amendment failed in a shocker. The purposely deceptively worded “Right to Hunt and Fish” passed with a large margin (you already had the right to hunt and fish, this just let you get away with more on state and federal lands).

And just…what I saw on election night, did not match the energy I was seeing. I lived through 2016 and when the numbers started getting counted in PA that de ja vu set in. But unlike in 2016…there was so much enthusiasm, energy. So much “ground game”. And it still amounted to nothing.

I personally tried so goddamn hard. And it still happened. There’s not really a point to this post just, if you tried, if you felt the energy, I see you. I really see you. I can’t say it’ll be ok, but I’m here with you.

[whitepolaris]

Ghostly Children Haunt the Popash School

Popash is the name of a tree that grows in South Florida. It is also the name of a rural community, between Zolfo Springs and Avon Park on Route 64, that was settled about 125 years old, when this part of Hardee County was still in De Soto County.

In the 1890s, Popash thrived as a small forming town, with its own post office. But when the railroad bypassed the place, Popash began fading away. Most of its history is etched in the stones of the New Hope Cemetery or passed on in the stories told by a few remaining old-timers.

For several generations, the town's old brick school has stood abandoned beside the road. Emblazed across its entrance is the name of POPASH. Strangely, the letters are still bright as new after all these years. Sitting under moss-drenched oaks, the building is an inviting sight for any ghost hunter and this place is not without its ghost legend.

Some people have claimed that the building was once a hospital and that it is haunted by children who had died from a fever epidemic; however, there is no evidence that it was ever used for any purpose other than a school. According to another legend, it was built on the site of a wooden school that had burned down, claiming the lives of several children. There is no evidence to support that story either. Of course, the school could still be haunted.

The old building is a disaster inside. The windowpanes are gone, allowing vines to creep into the former classrooms. The school had two large rooms upstairs and two downstairs that was probably the principal's office. The floor is rotted, and the plaster is crumbling. We warn anyone against venturing inside, as it is quite dangerous. The upstairs is full of moans and groans, especially when the wind blows, and no doubt would present a real scary scenario at night. Previous intruders have left their graffiti where pupils once wrote on chalkboards. A few have scrawled the word "boo" on the walls. We didn't hear or see any ghosts, but the Popash School is certainly a part of local history and, yes, a prime candidate for a haunting.

You Can Still Hear the Children's Voices

There's an old school on 64 outside of Wauchula that is haunted. If you go there at night, you can still hear children playing inside and sometimes a school bell ringing. -Firestorm

Strange People Living There

Popash School was closed down about thirty years ago. They say it's haunted by some children who died in a fire when the first wooden schoolhouse burned down. The brick school is built on the same property as the old school. I wouldn't go there because sometimes there are strange people living there. -GT409

Handprints of Children in the Popash Dust

The Popash School has been abandoned a long time. It is next to a cemetery where they buried the dead. I think the haunted stories are about when it was a hospital during a typhoid fever outbreak, and many kids died there, and now their spirits haunt the building. We went there and saw small handprints in the dust on the windows and window ledges and heard sounds that sounded like children crying. -tazgirl

Heard Sounds of Children Playing

The Popash School is not haunted by children that went there to school. It is the children who went to the first school that used to be at the same place. The first school was a one-room school made of wood, and it burned down and killed some kids inside, and their spirits started haunting the new school when it was built. When the new school was closed, their ghosts stayed there. I have been twice at night with friends, and you can hear the sounds of children playing if you are quiet and listen carefully. It is eerie. -Kim H.

[feminineenergy2024]

My Journey Through Life

As the semester comes to an end I have experienced deeper emotions along side with Art and all it's beauty. I have been more aware of certain art comes in many forms of expressions, creative skill and imagination. To me art also comes from emotional power it’s a feeling you get when looking at a picture or hearing a song. This semester has taught me really how tough I really am from juggling work full time, school full time and being a new mom full time. None of this was easy but looking at my son made it worth wild Being a new mom means everything changes. From the time you find out you’re pregnant your whole mindset changes. I say embarrassing self love because you have to learn to love yourself all over again while trying to figure out how to be a mother, a wife, a student coming out of postpartum depression.

The assignment where we had to chose a painting that we can relate too. She is me that painting she looked sad but also she is strong enough to still have a positive mind to keep watering herself to become a better version of herself. With the flowers growing on her head it symbolizes that she is finding peace, joy and love again. She is putting herself through the ring to find that once more. As she tries to put herself together it’s not easy it’s draining but the journey is worth it. I say she is me because this art describes a lot about me when really looking at it on a deeper level. That art work was very important and personal to me and let me tell you why. This last year have been the most challenging for me. I say this last year because not only did I become a mother I became a new women. When we go through life being careless and free you have a different outlook on life which was me. I was always so happy, goofy, not really taking things too serious. I went through life so freely not having a care in the world to now being worried, scared, anxious and depressed. Depression was one of my biggest emotion and I didn’t understand why.

After doing many assignments for this class I've learned a great deal of art it made me look at the city I live in differently for insist What I think about the sculpture assignment it says a lot about our community and we as a community are strong and we stand together. For example when we to hit the Hurricane Ian it was a scary time. But at the same time I was so proud of our community and how we help each other restore the community to us our community is important and everyone around volunteered and worked together. Living in Florida I haven’t really got he chance to know it’s history and it’s beautiful art work.

My interests are still history, society and politics and what I mean by that is when we look at our world today it all goes back in time. That I feel as if we are paying for it today. Our history is very important to learn about because as more time goes on more is being exploited. As our society now we are glued to our phones which is a good thing because now everything that’s happening in the world is being recognized through social media and politics are being shown more than ever now. As a society we are very much involved in the political world fighting for rights and freedom.

Learning about having a domestic space is a space were the home is distant and private space now the photos I chose where photos of my mother’s home. I choose my mothers home because the home is a domestic space that I believe it does serve its purpose as a domestic space. These songs I chose have a special meaning and emotional connection. And all while living in that home is where i remember these songs. These songs played at some point in my life that make me reflect on the good times in my life. They bring out my personality, my interests and my mood. I feel like when listening to certain music it bring out a joyous moment. If you noticed the songs I chose have kind of the same rhythm most of it county with a kick and rock. This final song I chose is a song that brought my mother and I closer together we would sing this song together. I also grew up with Dolly always playing in my living room. As well as makes you want to put on your dancing shoes and start dancing.

Seeing how fast the first year went and how much we have both learned from each other. As fast as he has grown I feel like I've grown with him. Capturing them moments we will never get back. I can't believe how big he is and the fact that he is starting to walk It reminds me when I see him trying to find his balance that, that's what life is essentially trying to balance yourself through out life and that is what he will be experiencing trying to figure life out.

Thank you Professor for a great semester!

[naturecoaster]

My Reactions to Hurricane Idalia

It has been a long, hot summer. The hottest summer on record in many parts of the U.S. After thousands of people relocated to Florida over the last several years, I would guess they are rethinking their decisions. And then, Hurricane Idalia came to visit August 29-30. I am tired. Once again, Citrus, Hernando, and Pasco Counties were spared a direct hit. Those north of us, particularly Perry and Steinhatchee, Florida, were accosted by powerful winds and water surges that ripped off roofs and took away homes and structures. Some people take it all in stride, like the boat owners in Old Homosassa who met up at the local market in their boats. This photo was on Ryan Jenkins's Facebook page the day after the storm hit with the title, "First annual bring your boat to the jiffy store party." In 2022, we were spared a direct hit from Hurricane Ian, which devastated the Fort Myers to Punta Gorda area. They are still cleaning up and rebuilding from that huge hurricane, and some things will never come back. Hurricanes are Hard on the Emotions The emotions of hurricanes are hard. First, there’s the hype. “Get your water, gas for the generator, canned food, fill up the bathtub, put all of your outdoor furniture into a safe structure, etc.,” from the various emergency management departments, the news, and neighbors. Not to mention the weather shows, commentaries, memes, and stories. "Category 1, category 2, category 4 with sustained winds of…" And last year, we dodged a direct hit. Education about which side of the storm will get the worst wind, rain, flooding… Voluntary evacuation orders. Mandatory evacuation orders. School closures. Shelter openings. Sandbag stations. Jim Cantorelli is here. Spaghetti models. And now it’s over for our part of the Nature Coast… except for the cleanup, particularly in the coastal areas. And insurance claims. And rebuilding damaged areas, structures, and fences, clearing debris, and trimming trees. I am tired. Are you? And who is ready to talk business now? We are all whirling from what is and what could have been. Tired, and grateful that we didn’t get a direct hit. I live 25 miles inland, so I don’t have much cleanup, no flooding, and I live in a pasture, so I don’t even have tree cleanup, but I am recovering from the company of my children who had to evacuate with my 2-year old grandson who just doesn’t understand any of it. We did the same thing last year for Hurricane Ian, where we dodged the storm head-on, but were prepared and went through the emotional roller coaster. And then the survivor’s guilt when I saw my friend’s places in Sarasota and Punta Gorda destroyed. Particularly hard was seeing the video of a church camp I had stayed in a few months earlier for a conference that is now gone. Taken away by the storm and unable to rebuild. Image of Ozello from Ozello, Florida Facebook page. Peck's Old Port Cove restaurant can be seen by its grey pitch roof in the upper left corner. What about My Neighbors? “Are my neighbors ok? Did the power go out? Have the warnings, watches, and advisories been lifted?” This time, with Hurricane Idalia, my empathy is focused on the coastal areas of our Nature Coast, from Port Richey to Cedar Key. With friends owning property in Weeki Wachee, Hudson, Homosassa, Ozello, and Crystal River, the devastation and cleanup look daunting. I have heard reports of a 9-foot tidal surge along our coast. Many will need help to get through this. Some will need financial assistance. Some will need manpower. All need prayer. Good news at the Ellie Schiller Homosassa Springs Wildlife State Park: the animals are safe. After one of the storms many years ago, the Park created safe areas and procedures for each animal in their care. August 28-29, they were used. Hundreds of people were rescued from the flooding by local sheriff departments, firefighters, Florida Fish and Wildlife, Florida National Guard, and the Florida Forest Service. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-RvuNSeE2Rs Now it’s time to assess and repair - and there is help available from local, state, and national governments, as well as the Red Cross and several other organizations. Residents will group and help each other in the coastal areas. Look for Facebook groups that will Florida’s State Assistance Information Line: 1-800-342-3557 If you have a small business, please register at FloridaDisaster.biz and take the Business Damage Assessment Survey to help state and local leaders communicate the impact of Hurricane Idalia on our area when reaching out for federal assistance. Please note that this does not apply for assistance. That is another step. Things are Moving Forward Already Pat Manfredo captured this relaxing sunset outside her Land O'Lakes home Wednesday night. Once the tide receded, the coastal residents and businesses began cleanup. Meanwhile, those in the central and eastern parts of the Nature Coast are open for business. Restaurants are reopening, some with limited menus. We went out for pizza at Angelo's Pizzeria in Inverness last night, although the pizzeria's phones weren't working, their food and service were a welcome treat. If you're in Brooksville, Chop Block stayed open regular hours Tuesday, opened for dinner on Wednesday, and is open for both lunch and dinner Thursday, returning to regular hours and days. In New Port Richey, the White Heron is offering a relaxing pot of tea and some delicious scones in their tea parlor, or a light lunch and Happy Hour, which includes cucumber and chicken salad sandwiches without the reservations that are usually required. Masaryk Winery is open for brunch this weekend. New Port Richey police and firefighters rescued residents from Hurricane Idalia. Image from their Facebook page. Government offices have reopened. All Pasco County Parks, Recreation, and Natural Resources reported that all of their recreational complexes are back open, as well as the Heritage Park Community Center, Wiregrass Ranch Sports Campus, and James Irvin Civic Center. Withlacochee River Park, Crews Lake Park, Moon Lake Park, Middle Lake Park, Peterson Park, and Lake Lisa Park are open. Anclote Gulf Park, portions of Starkey Wilderness Park, and the Coastal Anclote Trail will reopen at noon today, August 31st. As tired as we may all be, let's keep on moving forward and taking care of each other. NatureCoaster will continue to cover public information to help you get back to your routines. Read the full article

[scintfms]

           hi  kids  !  wow  ,  we’re  already  at  opening  and  that’s  so  crazy  !  i’m  kofi  ,  your  co - admin  ,  and  i’m  so  excited  that  you  guys  are  here  !  i’m  23  ,  from  the  est  tz  ,  prefer  she / they  pronouns  and  i  graduate  from  college  in  a  little  more  than  seven  months  ...  yikes  .  that  being  said  ,  i’m  ready  to  introduce  you  guys  to  my  latest  muse  ,  who  may  have  huge  development  changes  as  we  go  on  because  of  him  being  brand  new  ,  mr  .  saint  moon  !  he’s  um  ...  something  of  a  mess  and  idk  if  i  love  or  hate  him  yet  ,  but  i’m  happy  to  plot  with  ya’ll  on  my  d.iscord  @  𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐲.#4090  !

            (  lee  juyeon ,  22  ,  cis  male  ,  he / him  )  *  fun  fact  about  me  ?  okay  ,  let’s  see  .  .  .   an  injury  stopped  my  promising  olympic  career  .  crazy  ,  right  ?  i’m  saint  moon  ,  i  live  in  the  contemporary  new  build  with  a  three  thousand  square  foot  outdoor  patio  on  ocean  lane  in  key  biscayne  , &  not  to  brag  ,  but  my  family’s  worth  around  $740  million  .  pretty  decent  for  real  estate  and  construction  developers  ,  huh  ?  we’ve  been  around  for  some  time  ,  but  in  town  ,  everyone’s  always  associated  me  with  the  gatsbys  ;  but  it’s  not  like  that’s  my  whole  identity  ,  or  anything  .  while  filming  for  key  biscayne  ,  it  was  surprising  when  i’d  get  dragged  on  twitter  for  being  “  errant  ,  impetuous  ,  &  rancorous  ,   ”  but  the  cameras  don’t  see  everything  ,  &  my  real  fans  know  that  i’m  nothing  but  coolheaded  ,  venturesome  ,  &  enamoring  .  i’m  not  too  bothered  by  it  though  ,  because  since  the  series  ended  ,  i’ve  opened  a  highly  successful  café  in  south  korea  and  planning  to  expand  to  the  states  .  follow  me  on  instagram  @SNT.MN  to  keep  up  . 

name  :  saint  moon  .

nickname(s)  :  none  .

age  +  date  of  birth  :  22  +  july  19th  ,  1998  .

astrological  sign  :  cancer  .

myers - briggs  personality  type  :  infj  .

enneagram  type  :  the  individualist  .

moral  alignment  :  chaotic  neutral  .

gender  +  pronouns  :  cis  man  +  he / him / his  .

place  of  birth  :  gangnam  ,  south  korea  .

place  of  residence  :  key  biscayne  ,  florida  .

sexual  orientation  :  bisexual  .

romantic  orientation  :  biromantic  .

occupation  :  former  reality  star  /  instagram  influencer  /  café  owner  .

nationality  :  korean  .

ethnicity  :  korean  .

language(s)  spoken  :  korean  ,  english  ,  japanese  ,  and  learning  mandarin  .

social  media  handle  :  @SNT.MN

THE  BACKSTORY  .

            saint’s  story  starts  when  his  parents  ,  moon  ji - ho  and  park  soo - ah  went  on  their  first  date  .  in  truth  ,  it  had  been  a  rare  instance  of  love  at  first  sight  when  they  bumped  into  each  other  at  ji - ho’s  office  in  seoul  ,  and  the  date  was  only  used  to  solidify  their  feelings  .  you  see  ,  ji - ho  and  soo - ah  were  fairly  well  known  with  ji - ho  being  the  second  heir  to  moon  industries  alongside  his  sister  ,  moon  eun -  ha  .  moon  industries  was  founded  in  the  1940s  ,  and  is  known  primarily  for  their  real  estate  and  construction  business  .  the  company  was  founded  in  seoul  ,  and  originally  started  out  by  purchasing  and  renovating  beautiful  homes  and  condominiums  within  the  city  .  after  thirty  years  in  the  business  ,  ji - ho  and  eun - ha’s  father  was  one  of  the  first  in  south  korea  to  reach  the  status  of  billionaire  .

            ji - ho  and  soo -ah  were  looking  to  forge  their  own  path  ,  though  .  although  they  were  lucky  enough  to  have  wealthy  parents  ,  both  of  them  have  always  liked  the  idea  of  working  for  themselves  and  getting  their  hands  dirty  .  so  ,  they  refused  ji - ho’s  father’s  investment  and  decided  to  start  their  own  real  estate  firm  .  they  went  through  the  process  of  obtaining  their  real  estate  license  in  both  south  korea  and  the  united  states  ,  specifically in  florida  .  after  studying  hard  ,  they  were  able  to  open  moon  real  estate  ,  and  it  was  a  hassle  for  them  .  they  initially  ‘ struggled ’  seeing  as  though  they  were  their  only  employees  ,  and  soon  ,  soo - ah  discovered  that  she  was  pregnant  with  their  son  .

            for  four  years  ,  they  worked  hard  with  their  bumbling  baby  boy  ,  saint  ,  crawling  at  their  feet  and  curiously  looking  at  home  or  building  buyers  .  for  a  long  time  ,  they  considered  saint  to  be  their  closer  as  he  was  the  selling  point  and  allowed  people  to  hold  him  while  looking  at  the  home  .  usually  ,  soo - ah  would  use  saint  as  a  marketing  ploy  whenever  they  were  trying  to  sell  to  young  couples  ,  and  it  always  worked  .  the  moons  became  known  for  saint  syndrome  ,  where  those  same  young  couples  would  typically  call  to  say  that  they  were  expecting  within  a  year  of  buying  their  home  .  it  only  took  a  few  years  ,  but  the  moons  were  soon  raking  in  their  own  money  without  the  help  of  ji - ho’s  father  .  

            when  saint  was  six  ,  his  family  relocated  to  key  biscayne  ,  florida  .  life  was  easy  living  on  the  water  ,  and  his  parents  continued  to  sell  gorgeous  homes  both  in  seoul  and  in  the  wealthy  neighborhoods  of  florida  .  with  such  a  lifestyle  ,  it  wasn’t  unheard  of  for  saint  to  excel  at  his  private  school  ,  where  he  was  known  for  his  academic  prowess  as  well  as  his  ability  to  play  both  the  piano  and  the  cello  .  saint  was  a  fairly  popular  student  while  growing  up  ,  and  it  showed  when  the  moons  would  host  their  annual  christmas  party  .

            he  was  fourteen  when  he  finally  started  to  understand  the  rivalry  between  thoroughbreds  and  gatsbys  .  originally  ,  he  put  off  like  he  didn’t  care  ,  but  in  reality  he  was  trying  to  figure  it  out  .  the  moons  were  a  special  case  ,  considering  that  ji - ho  was  clearly  an  heir  to  a  billion  dollar  fortune  ,  but  also  had  become  wealthy  in  his  own  right  thanks  to  his  business  with  his  wife  .  saint  never  understood  that  jabs  and  jeers  that  he  would  receive  from  thoroughbreds  ,  because  to  him  ,  they  were  all  rich  so  what  the  hell  did  it  matter  ?  he  eventually  began  to  side  more  with  the  gatsbys  ,  never  understanding  why  the  thoroughbreds  felt  as  though  they  needed  to  stick  their  noses  up  in  the  air  at  them  .

            within  two  years  ,  though  ,  saint  seems  to  have  changed  for  the  worse  .  while  his  grades  may  be  good  ,  he  begins  to  spend  more  time  with  new  friends  in  miami  .  while  there  ,  he  surrounds  himself  with  fast  cars  and  short  nights  ,  but  he  thinks  it’s  his  parents’  fault  for  buying  him  a  488  spider  for  his  sixteenth  birthday  .  saint  began  to  get  into  trouble  ,  often  pulled  over  for  speeding  and  reckless  driving  to  impress  his  friends  .  like  always  ,  a  star  is  meant  to  fall  ,  and  it  all  came  crashing  down  for  saint  when  he  thought  that  drag  racing  on  u.s.  route  1  was  a  good  idea  .  he  assumed  that  he  could  lose  the  cops  ,  but  he  was  stupid  for  ever  thinking  so  --  he  totaled  the  $1.3m  dollar  car  ,  and  after  being  treated  for  minor  injuries  ,  he  was  booked  in  the  county  jail  .

            having  rich  parents  seems  to  be  all  fun  and  games  considering  they  were  barely  able  to  get  him  out  with  a  slap  on  the  wrist  ,  but  that  very  same  night  they  sent  him  away  on  a  business  plane  to  live  with  his  no - nonsense  grandparents  .  for  the  first  year  ,  saint  pouted  and  argued  ,  screamed  and  kicked  over  being  trapped  in  seoul  .  he  tried  to  escape  the  fortress  of  a  house  in  pyeongchang  ,  attempted  to  ditch  his  security  guards  when  he  went  out  in  public  ,  but  he  eventually  realized  that  there  was  no  getting  out  of  this  .  so  ,  he  made  the  most  out  of  it  :  he  finished  school  ,  and  during  his  senior  year  with  the  help  of  his  grandparents  ,  saint  opened  goodnight  moon  ,  a  late  night  café  that  appealed  to  college  students  and  late  workers  in  need  of  a  coffee  and  pastry  pick  me  up  .  the  café  went  viral  ,  and  so  did  the  handsome  owner  .

            he  returned  home  when  he  was  twenty  ,  and  discovered  that  key  biscayne  was  filming  .  as  the  resident  who  suddenly  disappeared  ,  saint  was  sought  after  by  the  producers  and  was  introduced  mid - way  through  the  second  season  .  

THE  SHOW  .

saint  and  his  family  were  not  introduced  on  key  biscayne  until  midway  through  season  two  .  he  was  introduced  as  most  table  shakers  would  be  ,  with  a  flurry  of  local  headlines  ranging  from  KEY  BISCAYNE  TEEN  ARRESTED  FOR  DRAG  RACING  and  HOW  MONEY  GETS  YOU  OUT  OF  A  JAIL  SENTENCE  .  his  parents  didn’t  like  the  idea  of  being  on  a  reality  series  ,  so  they  weren’t  featured  although  there  were  a  few  scenes  with  them  .

he  was  the  reality  show  villain  and  you  can’t  tell  me  otherwise  !  showed  up  with  an  air  of  what  the  fUCk  ever  and  despite  the  air  around  him  since  he  was  arrested  and  shipped  back  to  south  korea  ,  he  never  let  that  stop  him  ?  like  ofc  he’s  a  rich  boy  who  got  away  with  something  bc  he’s  rich  ,  but  it’s  not  that  he  doesn’t  acknowledge  it  ,  he  just  chooses  not  to  talk  about  it  .

was  definitely  the  subject  of  show  cliffhangers  ,  probably  nearly  got  kicked  off  the  show  because  of  his  short  temperament  and  despite  all  that  would  still  be  invited  to  the  reunions  because  he  would  always  start  some  shit  .  he  was  very  vocal  about  who  he  didn’t  like  on  the  show  ,  and  probably  had  good  chemistry  with  a  cast  mate  and  fans  of  the  show  always  pushed  for  them  to  become  a  thing  (  a  wc  ...  mayhaps  👀 )  but  they  were  never  anything  more  than  friends  .

by  the  end  of  the  show  ,  saint  was  that  cast  member  that  fans  love  to  hate  .  he  was  employee  of  the  month  ,  and  that’s  on  period  !  gave  what  he  was  supposed  to  gave  and  was  highkey  problematic  (  not  in  a  bad  way  ,  but  in  a  way  where  he  was  always  the  one  in  the  middle  of  some  shit  )  and  when  people  would  question  him  about  it  ofc  he  didn’t  care  KFNDSJBFS  .

THE  PERSONALITY  .

a  little  shit  .  that’s  it  .  that’s  all  you  need  to  know  .  although  he’s  standoffish  ,  still  has  his  insecurities  because  he’s  not  the  ‘  perfect  ’  son  that  his  parents  pushed  for  him  to  be  .  very  much  so  the  black  sheep  of  the  family  ,  and  is  deemed  as  a  lost  cause  by  his  thespian  of  a  mother  ,  so  he  figures  that  he  might  as  well  live  up  to  that  name  .  comes  across  as  someone  who  genuinely  doesn’t  care  ,  and  he  doesn’t  KFDBJSFSD  .  sometimes  only  looks  out  for  himself  which  adds  more  sand  into  the  asshole  bin  ,  and  he  hates  being  asked  ‘  dumb  ’  questions  .  it’s  a  pet  peeve  that  his  mom  thinks  he  picked  up  from  his  father  .

THE  HEADCANONS  .

he  does  not  want  to  be  your  friend  KFNDSFUS  .  he  can  be  very  standoffish  just  to  get  that  point  across  ,  and  he  doesn’t  interact  with  people  outside  of  a  chosen  few  .  

can  be  wildly  off  putting  and  while  someone  else  may  be  afraid  of  confrontation  ,  he  isn’t  !  might  be  the  subject  of  bar  brawls  and  minor  scraps  because  he  genuinely  does  not  know  how  to  shut  the  hell  up  .

hates  walnuts  ;  idk  why  that’s  important  but  it  is  .  serve  him  something  with  walnuts  in  it  and  he’ll  never  talk  to  you  again  .

romantically  and  emotionally  stunted  ,  therefore  he  bides  his  time  with  casual  sex  and  noncommittal  acts  of  romance  .  can  be  found  slipping  out  of  beds  in  the  middle  of  the  night  ,  never  returns  texts  ,  and  at  times  will  pretend  that  he  doesn’t  know  who  the  other  person  is  (  ew  !  )  .

a  chaotic  boy  with  a  heart  of  gold  ,  he  just  doesn’t  show  it  and  has  mastered  the  art  of  being  fake  .  

despite  his  repulsion  of  romance  and  relationships  ,  he’ll  flirt  with  anyone  that  has  a  pair  of  legs  ,  and  he  quite  honestly  might  call  someone  daddy  just  for  the  hell  of  it  KNFDH  . 

probably  posts  those  outfit  thirst  traps  on  instagram  reels  or  tik  tok  bc  he’s  annoying  .

THE  CONNECTIONS  .

an  angsty  ex  boyf  👀 if  i  have  to  BEG  for  it  i  will  !  and  i  promise  to  make  you  cry  xD

a  best  friend  pls  !  someone  who  has  been  friends  with  him  since  before  he  was  shipped  back  to  korea  for  a  few  years  so  when  he  came  back  and  was  on  the  show  ,  they  were  THE  dynamic  duo  .

i’ve  been  really  into  his  plot  but  someone  he  works  out  with  ?  maybe  they  don’t  work  out  together  per  say  ,  but  they’re  somehow  always  at  the  community  gym  at  the  same  time  .

something  soft  ?  something  so  sweet  that  it  would  make  my  teeth  rot  ?  could  either  be  a  boyfriend  or  girlfriend  thing  or  tbh  i  don’t  know  but  i’m  literally  looking  for  something  that’s  all  fluff  and  all  marshmallows  and  if  i  don’t  get  it  then  i’ll  cry  .

a  plot  where  they  full  on  hate  each  other  .  none  of  that  cute  shit  KNFDNFHSD  .  no  lingering  feelings  ,  no  moments  of  hate lapse  --  they  hate  each  other  and  it’s  a  spicy  hate  ship  that  literally  gets  your  blood  pumping  .  

SKINNY  LOVE  ARE  YOU  THERE  ?

his  hoodrat  friends  NFDJNHFBD  i’m  kidding  but  i’m  thinking  like ...  a  billionaire  boys  club  type  of  thing  ?  perhaps  the  five  of  them  get  together  and  ppl  try  to  penetrate  the  group  or  they  have  these  instances   where  ppl  straight  up  hate  them  for  no  reason  ?  they  were  probably  the  TALK  of  the  show  bc  thought  they  were  assholes  KNFDJBFBD  idk  either  way  ,  my  hand  is  out  .  (  1  of  4  spots  filled  )

a  one  night  stand  with  some  substance  ?  like  yeah  ,  they  fuck  around  and  they  have  their  fun  together  but  they  don’t  pretend  to  not  know  each  other  in  public  (  unless  this  person  is  a  thoroughbred  and  i  oop  ,  chile  )  so  they  probs  tend  to  be  a  little  like  confidants  at  times  but  also  have  a  tendency  of  shutting  each  other  up  with  sex  .

[thecassadilla]

Written in the Stars - Chapter 1

Word Count: 3,328/AO3

Pairing: Kristanna

Love During Lockdown Series: Serendipity (Prologue) 

Summary: Figuring out how to go on an in-person date during a time of social distancing would be a challenge for anyone. Luckily, it comes easy to Anna and Kristoff, who find a creative way to spend some time with each other amidst a pandemic.

Author’s Note: Well, I’m back again. If you remember, a few weeks back, I wrote a one-shot about Anna and Kristoff meeting during the pandemic because their deliveries got sent to each other’s addresses by mistake. I added that it had the possibility of being expanded, and ta-da! I’ve linked that fic above. I highly recommend reading that fic before this one, but you do you. I can’t believe I followed through, for the first time ever. This was interesting to write because, well, I had to imagine what an appropriate, in-person date would be like right now. This is going to be three or so chapters, but again, has the possibility of being expanded upon! I hope you enjoy it!

In the days immediately following their initial conversation, Anna found herself carrying her phone everywhere with her. She didn’t want to miss out on a single text from Kristoff. They hadn’t had much contact in the week since their chat - from what she had gathered about him, he definitely seemed to be on the shyer side; despite this, and the pandemic that was practically prohibiting them from meeting in person, she was hopeful that everything would work out and they would have a real opportunity to talk. There was just something about him and their interaction that was different, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. 

Suffice to say, when he called her out of the blue on Saturday afternoon, just over a week since they’d met for the first time, her heart nearly leapt out of her chest.

“Hello?” She answered, breathlessly.

“Hey,” he responded, and she could tell from the tone of his voice that he was smiling. “How are you?”

“I’m great, how are you?”

“I’m doing alright, thanks for asking. Uh, so I know this is going to sound kind of weird, but I haven’t started my car in almost a month and I’m kind of worried that the battery is going to die,” he explained. “I was wondering if you wanted to go for a car ride in a little while? I know it’s short notice and it would be bad social distancing, but -”

“Absolutely,” she cut him off, sounding a little too eager. “I can wear a mask if you’re uncomfortable.”

“No - I mean, you can bring it. I’m going to bring one, too, but you said you haven’t left your apartment in a while, right?”

“I haven’t left in almost two months,” she answered.

“Same here, so I think it would be safe? As long as we’re in the car, and you’re okay with it?”

“I’m totally fine with that,” she said, again fearing that she was going to come off as desperate.

“And...if you want, we can get take-out or stop by a drive-through or something? I know it’s kind of inappropriate, and ideally we’d be going to a sit-down restaurant, but...you know.”

“That would be wonderful,” she assured him. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was worried about not impressing her, because it sure sounded like he was asking her on a first date. The situation they were in was certainly not his fault, though, and the fact that he was still trying regardless of that made her weak in the knees. “What time were you thinking?”

“Um, an hour or so? Or we can meet up later if that’s too soon?”

“No, that’s perfect. I’m dying to get out of this apartment and see a person other than my sister,” she giggled.

“Oh!” He said, sounding a little surprised. “Me too, except with my roommate.”

“I can’t wait,” she said, smiling. “Where should we meet?”

“By the entrance to the building?”

“Okay,” she agreed. “I’ll see you in an hour!”

“See you then,” he said, before hanging up the phone.

She was so excited that she wanted to scream. She immediately jumped off the bed and began to tear her room to shreds - she wanted to wear something that was cute but appropriate. She also didn’t want to have to explain why she was wearing a fancy dress to Elsa. After way too much time deliberating, she finally settled on a light blue romper with spaghetti straps and a pair of sandals. She didn't have enough time for a full face of makeup, so she settled on mascara and lipstick, hoping that he wouldn’t notice. Her hair hung down in loose waves cascading down her back, and she mentally applauded herself for taking a shower that morning. When the hour was about to draw to a close, she placed the mask over her face, grabbed her purse and cell phone, and excitedly bounded out of her bedroom.

She paused in front of Elsa’s door, knocking a few times with no answer. She peeked inside, and was thrilled to see that her sister was taking a nap and could not protest her departure. She decided that a text message would be appropriate, and gently closed the door to her room before practically skipping out of the apartment. As soon as she opened the door, a blast of hot air hit her in the face and she was immensely grateful that they were going to be sitting in an air conditioned car instead of going on a walk. Before she walked downstairs, she sent the text message to Elsa and shoved her phone into her purse - if she could help it, she wanted to keep it there the entire time they were together.

When she finally reached the entrance to their building, she could hardly contain her excitement. So much so that when Kristoff emerged from inside, she found herself approaching him with her arms wide open before she realized what she was doing.

“Oops, sorry,” she said, lowering her arms. “I always hug people after when I haven’t seen them for a while, but I guess we don’t live in that world anymore. Hi, by the way.”

Although she couldn’t see his mouth, she could tell from his eyes that he was smiling. She couldn’t help but notice how good he looked; he was dressed casually like her, wearing cargo shorts and a t-shirt, but it suited him so well that she nearly found herself drooling. 

“Hi,” he said back, his eyes still sparkling. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been doing as well as I can,” she answered. “I feel like I’m starting to lose my mind, though.”

“I feel the same way,” he chuckled, slowly starting to walk toward the parking lot. “I’m glad to be getting out for a little while. You look great, though; quarantine must be treating you well.”

“Thank you!” She exclaimed, walking alongside him. “You look great, too. And I feel the same way; my sister is starting to drive me up a wall.”

“It’s just you and her up there?”

“So it’s a little complicated, actually. She doesn’t actually live here,” she explained. “I had two roommates.”

“What happened with that?”

“One of them broke his lease, because his internship ended abruptly due to the pandemic, so he had to go back to live with his parents. And my other roommate has been quarantining with her boyfriend, but she took almost all of her stuff with her and she’s not answering my messages, so I actually don’t know if she’s coming back.”

“I don’t mean to cut you off, but this is me,” he said, motioning to a grey SUV. He unlocked it, and they each went to their respective sides. It was blazingly hot inside, as expected, and he put his keys in the ignition. “I’m honestly relieved that it started and I’m really sorry that it’s so hot in here, but it should cool off in a few minutes. You were saying?”

She pulled off her mask and he followed shortly after. “Yeah, so, my sister came to visit, like, a week before everything shut down and then she just refused to leave. It worked out since my other roommate moved out, but she’s driving me crazy.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking over at her. 

She slid the seatbelt over her shoulder and buckled it in. Cool air started seeping out of the vents, offering relief from the suffocating heat. “It’s not the worst thing in the world, but her anxiety is basically out of control. She’s a touch agoraphobic in general, and this is just making it worse.”

“That has to be really rough,” he responded, shifting the car into drive and slowly pulling out of the spot. “I mean, my roommate just sits around and plays video games all day, so I kind of lucked out in that regard.”

“I would do literally anything for her, but I definitely miss having a little freedom; she doesn’t even want me to go on walks, or anything,” she said, shaking her head. “Luckily, she hates Florida, so I think she’ll try to go home as soon as it’s safe.”

“Are you from Florida?”

She glanced out the window, admiring the clear blue sky and the palm trees. She had almost forgotten what the outside world looked like. “No, I’m actually from upstate New York.”

“Get out of here, so am I,” he said, excitedly. “What part are you from?”

Her face lit up. “Arendelle, it’s a small town near Saratoga Springs.”

“I grew up, like, half an hour from there. Near Broadalbin, in Fulton County.”

“No way! It’s such a small world,” she laughed. “What brought you here?”

“I’ve lived in Florida for a few years now,” he explained, focusing on the road. “I came down here for school. I’m becoming an architect, and I needed an internship, and that led me to this part of the state a couple of months ago. Unfortunately, it kind of got put on hold due to the pandemic.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she frowned. “I don’t know much about architecture, but it seems really cool.”

“It is,” he grinned. “But it’s a lot to talk about and I don’t want to bore you. What about you?”

“I doubt you would bore me, but to answer your question, I needed a change. I came out here for school, too, and loved it so much that I dreaded going home during breaks. So I got a job and found an apartment, and now I live here.”

“What did you major in?”

“I’m still working on my Bachelor’s, but elementary education. One semester to go.”

“You must love kids,” he assumed.

She nodded. “I do, I really do. I had a lot of amazing teachers, and I hope that one day I can leave an impact on someone in the same way my teachers left one on me.”

“Wow, that’s really thoughtful of you.”

“Thank you,” she blushed. “I’m really looking forward to having my own classroom, someday.”

He found himself smiling at the sincerity of her response, but before he could say anything, she had already moved onto the next topic.

“What do you do for work?”

“Well, the internship was my job, for the time being. I quit my job as a waiter for the internship, so I’m currently unemployed.”

She nodded fervently. “Same here - I had a part-time front desk job, and the office had to close, so I got laid off.”

“This whole situation is just awful,” he responded, shaking his head. “To get back onto a happier subject - what do you love most about living here?”

“The weather,” she cooed. “I love the warmth and the sunshine. No snow or shoveling to worry about in this state.”

“That’s the one thing that I dislike about living here,” he remarked. “I kind of miss having four seasons. Oh, and I never want to be referred to as ‘Florida Man.’”

She burst out laughing, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth. “Oh my god, stop.”

“I’m serious! There are so many negative connotations,” he laughed.

“Yeah, but you’d have to do something dumb, like, stick your foot in a gator’s mouth to earn that title.”

“I don’t know, I feel like they’re handing it out willy nilly these days; any man who lives in Florida is officially a Florida Man,” he smiled, shaking his head. “In all seriousness, though, I do hope to move back to New York, someday.”

“I think I do, too. The distance has helped my sister and I grow as individuals, but I’d like to live closer to her. Not anytime soon, though.”

“I get that,” he nodded. 

“So, what’ve you been doing to pass the time?”

He sighed. “I’ve been doing school stuff, mostly, but now that the semester is over, I’ve been watching stuff on Netflix.”

“Ooh, what have you been watching?” She asked, turning her body so she was facing him.

“Whatever gets recommended to me, honestly. I watched Tiger King -”

“Oh my god, me too! What a train wreck!” She exclaimed, before bringing both of her hands up to cover her mouth. “I’m so sorry, I totally cut you off just then.”

“It’s fine,” he said, glancing over at her. “I kept expecting it to get better, but it just kept getting worse and worse. Other than that, I’ve been watching a mixed bag of stuff. The Office, Parks and Rec, et cetera.”

“Literally, same,” she laughed. “I’ve been watching a lot of YouTube, too, because it’s interesting to see what other people are doing during quarantine.”

“Good point,” he agreed. “I haven’t even thought about how other people have been coping.”

“Almost everyone I watch has been doing the same stuff I see everyone on social media doing. Baking bread, renovating their houses, watching television. I appreciate people who are putting out unique content.”

“I’ll have to get on YouTube one of these days,” he stated. “What are you looking forward to most when all of this is over?”

“Gosh, I don’t even know,” she gushed. “Everything - I want to eat in a restaurant, again. And go back to Disney World, and to the beach.”

“You know, I’ve never been to Disney World.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope,” he smirked.

“No way! We’ll have to go when it opens!” She declared, and then quickly backtracked a step, worrying that she was too forward. “Only if you want to, though.”

“I’m not opposed to going,” he chuckled. “It was just never high enough on my priorities list. I was actually supposed to go back in March, but then they closed. I’d love to go with you when they reopen.”

“Stop, I’m literally so excited now,” she said, unable to control her smile. “I’m not in a crazy rush to run there as soon as they reopen, but I literally cannot wait now.”

His lips curved upwards as well. “Me too.”

“How about you? What are you looking forward to?”

“Well, aside from going to Disney World, probably just things going back to normal. I miss simple things like going to the grocery store.”

“Do you like cooking?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, I do. That’s another thing that I’ve been doing - practicing my cooking skills. You?”

“God, no. I love eating but I’m an awful cook,” she laughed. “I know how to make some really basic stuff, but I have a knack for burning everything. I’d say that I’m a better baker, but I don't think boxed mixes count.”

“At least you try. I’m pretty sure my roommate would live on microwaveable food and take-out if I didn’t live with him.”

She playfully rolled her eyes. “My sister is no better, but we get by.”

“I’ll have to send some food up to you sometime; can’t have you two starving,” he winked.

“Stop, you’re too sweet,” she gushed. “I would love that, though. My sister on the other hand…”

He glanced over at her. “I notice that you talk about her a lot. Is it just the two of you?”

She paused for a moment before answering. “Yeah, it’s just me and her. Our parents passed away a few years ago, and we don’t have any other family.”

“Oh man, I’m sorry to hear that,” he frowned. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“No, it’s okay; I’m actually kind of glad you asked,” she said quietly, twirling a piece of hair between her fingers. “My sister and I don’t talk about them, really.”

He raised his eyebrows. “How come? If you don’t mind me asking.”

She shook her head. “Well, my sister had a lot of anxiety issues as a kid, and she became very closed off. They were concerned, but they didn’t really do anything to address it and we both suffered as a result. They got into the accident when I was fifteen, and she was eighteen so she became my guardian, but it was like I was living with a stranger at first. We got better, eventually, but she was a little overbearing and I needed my own space and that was when I moved down here for school. We just don’t bring them up, now. They weren’t bad people or anything, it’s just hard to talk about.”

He nodded along with her as she spoke, acknowledging what she was saying. “I get that. I’m really sorry that that happened, but I have to say - you’re incredibly brave.”

“Thank you,” she looked up at him and gave him a sad smile. “What about your family?”

“I was a foster kid who got bounced around, so I don’t really have a family. I’m still in touch with the family I was with the longest, but it took two other families to get to them.”

She gasped. “I’m sorry, that must’ve been so hard.”

“Well, a lot of good came out of it. It made me want to work harder, for one, but it also made me realize what type of person I want to be and what type of life I want to live.”

“And what is that, exactly?”

“Well, I want to have a family of my own someday. I just...want to be present for the people in my life.”

“That’s really amazing. You’re also incredibly brave,” she remarked, repeating what he’d just said to her.

“I guess we have a lot in common, then.”

She nodded, suddenly feeling an overwhelming urge to reach out and touch his arm. She hesitated, though. “You can say that again. But it’s a good thing, I think. Not to wax poetic, but we wouldn’t be here right now if all of those horrible things didn’t happen to us.”

“Very true,” he agreed. He pulled into a gas station, stopping the car at one of the pumps and turning off the engine. “Sorry, I just want to fill up my tank so we don’t break down somewhere.”

“No need to apologize,” she insisted, as he climbed out of the car and started fiddling with the pump. She was completely overwhelmed, but in the best way possible. This was easily the best date she’d ever been on, and she was hopeful that he felt the same way and that there would be many more dates in the future. Though it was a bit of an annoyance at the time, she was eternally grateful for the delivery drivers who’d messed up their deliveries. 

“Alright, we’re good,” he announced, as he climbed back in and started the ignition again. 

“Do you want money for gas?”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” he insisted. “Where to next?”

She shrugged. “You’re the driver.”

“Are you hungry? We could stop somewhere and eat,” he offered. 

“Yeah, that would be great.”

“What’re you in the mood for? I know there aren’t too many practical options for eating in a car.”

“We could stop at that McDonald’s that was just down the street.”

“Alright,” he said, pulling away from the gas station. “I have nothing against McDonald’s, but if the circumstances were different, I would’ve preferred to take you somewhere much nicer.”

“I know,” she smiled. “But I’m not, like, disappointed or anything. I’m honestly having a great time.”

“Me too,” he responded softly. “I’ve really been enjoying talking to you.”

“I’m really glad that we’re on the same page. Also, I haven’t had McDonald’s in at least a year, so I’m super excited about that.”

“Is that why you suggested it?”

“Maybe,” she smirked. “But also because it’s close by and we don’t have to get out of the car.”

“If that's what you want, then I’m happy to take you there, but don’t worry about the distance. I don’t mind going somewhere else if -”

She interjected before he could finish his thought. “Nope, McDonald’s is great.”

“Alright,” he laughed. “Then to McDonald’s we go.”

[thegeminisage]

the south is like another country

i have an entire essay on how the current radicalism and steep political divide in this country can be traced directly back to the civil war - rural white southerners here playing the part pre-ww2 germany, the part of a resentful, conquered nation assimilated into the nation that conquered them, because if you think about it the south/the confederacy WAS its own nation for a time, that lost a very bloody war, and paid very steeply for it (not that slavers didn’t deserve every bit of misery the “carpetbaggers” threw at them), and the bitterness from that loss/the lost capital from having their slaves freed has been handed down through the generations, to people who now live in abject poverty while their livelihoods are destroyed by late stage capitalism, and their schools are so broke a lot of people here don’t even know how to read, and their towns are eaten alive with meth, and they’re still looked down upon by most of the country for being racist uneducated backwater hicks (to be clear, we should always look down on racism and racists, but it’s not making them any less bitter/ripe for being drawn into the cult of tr*mp’s america and f*cism).

but anyway this post isn’t about that! this post is about how when i go up north and i say “y’all it really is like i’m living in a different country” NOBODY BELIEVES ME. we speak the same language, we’re all americans, right? PFFFFFT. this amazon van thing just drives it home (pun intended). here’s a list of differences from the deep south* to the rest of the country*:

*the deep south here meaning the RURAL deep south. sorry to everyone who lives in cities/the suburbs and/or in border states like maryland and virginia. i’ve been to maryland and virginia and they are technically southern and some of this applies to them but it is not quite as extreme as it is here. the rest of the country includes the other states i’ve been to (california, washington state, new york, etc), which are in mostly every area except the midwest. i cannot personally vouch for the midwest. sorry, midwesterners! rural midwest probably has a lot of things in common with the deep south because rural life is different and also how easily people move around this country, but whatever

this is a long-ass post get ready

difference #1: DRIVING. driving & pedestrians are entirely different un rural areas vs urban areas. for starters, southern towns often do not even have sidewalks. this is because of 1. budget and 2. racism.

budget: rural towns are very spread out, and it costs major $$$ to put sidewalks in. it’s just not worth the trouble, financially, to put a sidewalk where only 12 people are ever going to use it, AND spend the money to maintain it. never gonna happen. racism: initially, suburbs especially in the south were seen as safe havens where people could get away from the stress of living in “urban” (re: integrated) areas. that the neighborhoods were only accessible by car and NOT by people who were too poor (black) to afford automobiles were just an added bonus. 

as such, the first time i left the southeast, i was SHOCKED to see people walking and biking WITH (or indifferent to) the flow of traffic. down here we are taught that if you are walking along the road (or biking, because bikers get lumped in with pedestrians down here), it is very very very crucial that you walk against the flow of traffic, because you cannot expect drivers to see you and not mow you down. the onus is on YOU to get out of THEIR way. additionally, walking in knee-high grass along the side of the road sucks, and because there aren’t many people here, the roads are usually totally empty. so oftentimes pedestrians just straight up walk ON the road. and if you do that you absolutely have to be able to see a car coming from a long way away, because rural drivers on completely empty roads tend to take them at extremely high speeds just for fun. the people who live diagonally across from me have had to replace their mailbox four times because folks take that blind curve at 90mph. i had a cat get hit by a car on that road. (they all live indoors now.) i even witnessed a car accident happen there when i was just outside minding my own business. ever see a tire fly 12 feet into the air and come down into someone’s windshield? that’s what happens when you hit power line pole driving like that.

the first time i ever encountered one of those pedestrian crossing buttons was in california in the early 2010s. i had literally never seen one before because we simply don’t have them here. they’re not very self-explanatory if you have been jaywalking your whole entire life because all you’re taught to do is look both ways and make sure the street is empty before you cross. northern/urban roadways are made so that pedestrians and drivers can both get to where they’re going. in rural/southern areas pedestrians might as well not bother.

interestingly, while not an entirely southern problem, there’s a loose correlation between rural areas and more problems with drunk drivers.

on the driving side, driving in a city is batshit insane. it’s both faster and slower. there is NO space and you’re expected to go whenever you have so much as an inch to worm your way in. there’s more traffic, and the traffic totally dictates your speed. in the south you can change lanes if you want to drive faster or slower and weave around traffic or let it weave around you, but in a city there’s no other lane to change to and if you don’t drive at the speed of the people ahead of and behind you you will die. you turn fast, you brake fast, etc. whenever i come back from driving in a city the people who ride with me think i’m insane. you don’t PULL ONTO A ROAD if you can SEE ANOTHER CAR THERE, what the fuck? meanwhile i’m like “lol that is six miles of space i have plenty of time” and give everyone in my vicinity heart palpitations until i readjust. 

tailgating in a rural area is something only assholes do (done by people on a two-lane road to encourage the person in front of them to go faster because the only other lane is for oncoming traffic), and if someone gets within one car length of me on a two-lane road i can very passively aggressively slow my vehicle to a crawl until they back the fuck off. in a city you’re lucky if you have a twelve inches between your bumper and the next car’s hood ornament.

difference #2: LANGUAGE. this is a small one, but the southern dialect combined with the lack of literacy means i am learning certain things late in life. phrases i have heard verbally with my ears but had never seen written out include: “chest of drawers” which i thought was “chester drawers” - “seven year itch” which i thought was “seven year each” - “albeit” which i thought was “i’ll be it.” i’ve made a deliberate effort to unlearn mine own accent/dialect but i run into weird shit all the time. remotes are mashers, shopping carts are buggies, you put stuff up instead of putting it away, i fix you a drink instead of pouring you one, we shoot the game instead of play it. my mom LITERALLY can’t understand me if i speak too quickly - she has to remind me all the time to slow down and put on my southern.

difference #3: TECHNOLOGY. issue of whether or not you personally have the creepy amazon vans aside, the rural south is behind the rest of the country on technology. things in cities are AUTOMATED. things like the little button you press to cross the street, tickets you take at parking garages, even the parking meters you find in cities, that’s just the beginning of it. one time i came across a little computer touch screen in a MCDONALDS where you put your order in. you didn’t even go up to the counter. you just put your order on the screen and swiped your card and then they got it ready for you and you never had to speak to a human person. self-checkouts, gas pumps where you can swipe your card and not go in and pay at first...the south got those YEARS behind everybody else. in the mid-2010s i went to DC and visited a target for maybe the 5th time ever and i was BAFFLED by the self-checkout. i had no idea how to use it! it was like less than ten years ago and i was IN MY TWENTIES and i had never seen one before! when we send a package we have to talk to a human person. when we order food we usually have to talk to a human person. apps for places like dominos and subway have not been in use here for very long. my county just got doordash LAST YEAR. 

because i am 31, and because the south is so technologically behind, i am actually old enough to remember how when you used to go to a gas station an attendant would not only pump your gas but wash your windshield for you while you just SAT IN THE CAR. that seems like something from the 50s but it actually was a thing here in my childhood IN the 90s. i wish i was making this up.

difference #4: INFRASTRUCTURE. this sort of goes hand-in-hand w/ the last point because so much of our infrastructure is made of technology, and it’s also more of a rural/urban thing than a south/north thing. but just for fun here’s a non-exhaustive list of things i don’t have in my town:

starbucks* - the first time i went to a starbucks i was in my 20s

a public pool - we used to, but now the only pool here requires a YMCA membership. the only baseball diamond in this county is also at the Y.

walmart

in fact, ANYWHERE to buy clothes that is not a goodwill or other secondhand store. i cannot buy clothing unless i order it online or LEAVE MY TOWN. almost all of the clothing i own is from walmart because it’s one of the only places in my entire county where you can actually PURCHASE clothing.

grocery store chains? pffft. my town has two entire stores and both are small southern chains. i didn’t go into a publix for the first time until two years ago when i went to florida. i’ve NEVER entered a whole foods.

food delivery? yeah, no. like i said, we got doordash last year, but before that the only place you could get delivery from was a pizza chain. we only have two pizza places in my town that deliver, and one is a local place, not attached to any chain, so i can’t spend my loyalty points there. (it’s very expensive there too.) last year it was CLOSED for six months because the manager got caught dealing meth. every last one of the delivery drivers was trafficking it for him. they all got fired and had to restart from the ground up. for that short time, it was not possible to get any food delivered to your house whatsoever.

a hospital/ambulance services - if someone is sick, we have to take them to the hospital in laurens, the town next door (about 15-20 minutes by car). the town i live in lucky - we have our own police and fire departments. (acab but you know what i mean.) joanna is a smaller town next to mine that isn’t a real town - it’s been demoted to a census designated area because only 2000 people live there. if they have an emergency, they have to use OUR fire and police departments, and LAURENS’s ambulance/hospital system

after-school places kids can go to keep from getting into trouble. we have the Y, if you have money (no one here has money), and we have churches, but mostly schools can’t afford to run too many extracurriculars. there’s nothing to do here but church and meth.

food banks: zero. we have food DRIVES sometimes where people will come from further away and bring free food, but if you’re hungry, there’s nowhere you can go for help - you have to wait for help to come to you.

libraries: we don’t have our own library. we have a branch of the county library that’s physically located in our town. but we share books with the rest of the entire county, so everything is always checked out or at the other branch. 

*we technically have a starbucks that’s in the local college campus, but only college students are allowed to be there. they’ll still serve people without a college ID because no one gives a fuck, but you can’t linger and loiter and hang out like you do in a normal starbucks. we also have one in the barnes and noble in greenville, which is about an hour away by car, but again, it’s a mini starbucks that serves a limited menu and none of that weird Starbucks Culture™

here’s a few things i don’t have in my ENTIRE COUNTY:

movie theaters - technically. we have a Historial™ one-screen theater in laurens that shows one movie for two weeks a month after it hits regular theaters and then switches to another, and if you miss it, too bad. this is a VERY recent addition - it wasn’t restores until i was in my 20s as a kid and a teenager i had to ride in a car an hour or more to go to the movies.

target. only commies and yankees have target. down here we do walmart.

malls

arcades

skate parks/skating rinks

bowling

museums

zoos/aquariums

campgrounds

fairs. our county fairground got razed a decade ago because there just werent enough people showing up to justify the expense. so no more fairs. you have to have people to fund things and down here there just aren’t enough people anywhere.

you get the idea. we don’t have entertainment. like i said, nothing to do but church and meth.

CLASSES FOR STUFF: knitting classes, dancing classes, driving classes? nope. gymnastics, karate dojos, golf, knitting groups, books clubs, cooking classes? [GAMESHOW BUZZER]. you can’t even hire a clown for a birthday party out here. we do have a shooting range. ONE. in the entire county. and a race track. and a rather infamous former kkk memorabilia store. they made a movie about that (serious tw for this trailer - they’ve got white hoods, burning crosses, pepper spray, the whole nine), which, yes, takes place in laurens, aka right next door to me. i used to walk by that place all the time when i was playing pokemon go. haven’t seen the movie but the shooting locations in the trailer make laurens look a lot bigger and prettier than it really is in real life - especially the racetrack, which, in the trailer, is actually PAVED. (this is inaccurate to real life.)

EDUCATION: lots of people can’t read. we have two schools for illiterate adults, one religious college, and one branch of one of the state colleges that has a skeleton staff and a fuck ton of computers (you basically just go there to distance learn/e-learn - if you want to take real classes from this college, you have to drive at least an hour.)

support groups/group therapy: almost none. we have al-anon and weight watchers, but that’s about it. there’s only half a dozen therapists in my entire county, and none that operate from my town. mental healthcare down here is bullshit.

on food: we don’t have many sit-down restaurants, where servers bring you your menu and your food. if you don’t count waffle houses, my town has 4. my county has 9. in and out, 5 guys, applebees, ruby tuesday, red lobster, olive garden, panda epxress? forget it. those places were and still are rare treats. i’ve only been to an olive garden twice. red lobster once. whenever i leave my county i BEG for chinese because there’s only two chinese restaurants in our entire county and one of them is crazy expensive and the other one sucks. 

we also don’t have the more important stores you need to like, live. if we need to exchange our router at a charter store? yeah, we don’t have one. need to visit the sprint store to get your phone repaired? nuh-uh, we don’t have any phone stores either. my family recently switched to at&t because it was the only company that had a physical location in our county. before that, we had to drive an hour for even the smallest repair.

on a grimer note: we don’t have homeless shelters! homeless in laurens county? too bad for you. we do have homeless PEOPLE. they just have nowhere to go except the churches

hospitals? only kind of. like i said, our county has one, but it’s not equipped to take seriously sick people. when my mom had a heart attack she had to be driven straight to greenwood, which is 45 minutes away if you’re not in an ambulance. they obviously made it faster than that, but still. that was scary. it took them a long time to get here. i had a distant relative of mine die before the ambulance made it because they were SO far out in the sticks, even further than me.

we also don’t have any specialty stores. sporting goods, gamestops, shoe stores, florists, craft stores, bookstores, best buys...forget it. if you can’t buy it at walmart, you just can’t buy it. the exceptions: my TOWN has one jewelry store, two hardware stores, and two auto repair stores. my COUNTY has three clothing stores, none of which are in my town, one place that sells used TVs, and one movie rental place. thrilling, right? i can rent a movie if i drive out of town. (i know streaming killed the rental business, but we also only had two places when i was a kid, if you counted the rental section in the grocery store.)

so, yeah. i know the term “shithole” is really loaded these days, but rural areas are just plain less developed, and often in seriously poor repair because nobody fucking uses them. there USED to be more stuff here - my mom was on a bowling league, and as a kid i had a birthday party at a skating rink - but late stage capitalism and drugs destroyed it all. people ran out of money to do things like skate and bowl and so those places closed. the south is full of empty store fronts and deserted strip malls slowly being eaten by kudzu. my brother got out of this town and whenever he winds up back here (not often) he remarks on how completely and utterly dead everything feels. “my friends who live in greenwood now think they’re all rural,” he said once. “they complain constantly about how remote it is. but they have no idea. they wouldn’t make it five minutes out here.” greenwood has its own movie theater, mall, starbucks, homeless shelter, food bank, and hospital.

so, yeah! if you were wondering what rural white southerners are so fucking mad about, that’s part of it. propaganda and xenophobia and racism has their anger directed ENTIRELY at the wrong people, but it’s hard to argue that the anger itself isn’t just a little bit justified.

difference #5: CULTURE. specifically culture around food, and the culture around the civil war. i could write an entire other essay about the culture of the church being everything because the church IS the only semblance of infrastructure we have and this is why the south is so homophobic, but we’ll skip that for now.

food: this is a quickie, because i sort of touched on it already, but there are like, almost NO vegetarian options here. there’s very limited choices of cuisine. it’s ALL waffle house and soul food. we have a lot of mexican places because we’re physically close to the mexican border, but aside from that, forget finding like indian or thai or japanese or anything like that. no sushi. forget finding a menu that has meals that are halal or kosher. there’s just. no culture here. no variety. you know? like i said, our entire county doesn’t even hit double-digits for proper sit-down restaurants.

civil war: i’m not going to go into the big stuff since i sort of covered it at the top and also this post is getting way too long, but to other white rural southerners there is legitimate baggage around the fact that my mom married a yankee and that i am half-yankee. and he’s not even a real yankee! he was born up north but raised in southern florida. (florida is weird. the further south you go geographically, the less southern you are culturally.) yet: my family makes jokes that are sometimes not jokes about this. when i drop this information in casual conversation people get that look on their faces like: ah, that explains it. it being that i am not religious and don’t laugh at racist jokes and maybe i am queer?? (strangers tend to be unsure about this last part, even when i’m wearing rainbows.) it’s because i’m half-yank! that explains everything! the xenophobia is SO strong here that white people are even xenophobic at OTHER WHITE PEOPLE. 

so in conclusion when i say the north is like another country, it’s because the people who raised me think of it like another country. and culturally! it is buck wild! the differences that there are! when i leave this town i feel like i step into fucking star trek! if you are not from the rural south, and you have never been to the rural south, please do not come here! i’ve been to a few different places now and this is definitely my least favorite one. 

[tricktster]

Where am I? The uncanny valley, my friend.

There is a trope in horror that I particularly love, where the protagonist realizes they are Seeing Something That They Were Not Meant To See. Maybe they open the freezer in the basement that their spouse always keeps padlocked and find a collection of severed fingers, or maybe they gaze on the unspeakable tentacled geometries of an eldritch god. No matter what The Thing is, though, the bell can’t be unrung. They can’t go back to living their life the way it was before they saw The Thing, and even in the happiest of scenarios, the ones where they get out alive, their discoveries haunt them in every frozen dinner or plate of calamari. 

I am in The Villages, the largest gated over-55 community in the world, and as a non-retiree, I was Not Meant To See This Place. 

Figure 1: Honestly some of the better art here.

Here is what happened: My parents, whom I love dearly and respect to my core, announced essentially out of the blue a few years back that they would be purchasing a house in The Villages, Florida, a retirement community that essentially occupies an entire county in central Florida. This was something of a surprise, since my parents, heretofore, had always presented as rational actors. I frankly never imagined they’d live in any gated community, much less The Villages. 

I have now visited my parents in The Villages on three occasions, and each time, I have found myself somewhere mid-visit wondering if I actually know these people at all. My parents are both tremendously intelligent professionals who are highly regarded in their northeastern community, where I was born and raised. Growing up, my parents emphasized to me and my brother the importance of education and intellectual curiosity, but also hammered home that we were to be kind, generous, empathetic, environmentally conscious, and aware of the greater world. They (particularly my mom) are crunchy as hell. As kids, my mom used to take us for walks in the nature preserve and help us identify different plants, animals and mushrooms with field guides. When we went on vacations, we went to Yellowstone and hiked, or we camped in the rainforest at eco-tourism sites. My parents were early adopters of hybrid cars. They’re passionate about music and art, architecture and history. They bought a home in the tackiest place on earth.

When I think Central Florida, I think thick forests and swampland. There’s a certain romance associated with half-rotted trees covered in Spanish moss, and pools of still water only occasionally disturbed by primordial carnivores:

Figure 2: You know, this kind of thing.

The Villages, on the other hand, look like this:

Figure 3a: For fuck’s sake.

Figure 3b: Christ.

How bad is the aesthetic in The Villages? Let me put it this way: If Tim Burton decided to make a movie about gated Floridian retirement communities, and they shot it in The Villages, when I got around to watching it, I’d be like, jesus, Tim, going back to the well with this one, huh, we get it, it’s a parody of a soulless, conformist, suburbia. Oh, a “Declaration of Restrictions has been created for each individual neighborhood, which regulates design and operational aspects, such as landscaping, repairs and maintenance, placement of satellite dishes, hedges, etc. An Architectural Review Committee controls the composition and consistency of the exterior of the residential properties within The Villages.*” Fuck you, Tim, try something new, I’d say, very smugly because I am very smug.

Oh, but wait, Tim would say, what if I told you there were forty-eight golf courses within The Villages? What if I told you there were three “town centers,” and one is designed to look like it’s an old town from the American Southwest, and one’s designed to look like a coastal tourist town, and one of them is actually designed to look like the fucking Wild West, is that choice enough for you, huh? What if I told you that every place in The Villages is accessible by golf cart? What if I told you that ridiculous old men would trick out their golf carts to look like they’re sports cars?

Figure 4: WE GET IT, TIM.

In short, The Villages is a ridiculous place. It is a theme park without rides, a clear-cut swath of swampland transformed at great expense into a facsimile of a 1950s suburb where the citizens are permitted to live their lives free of  meaningful community responsibilities. It is, at its worst, a dull and soulless celebration of wastefulness and excess, centering around one of the most historically exclusionary, and least environmentally sound, “sports.” It is all camp, and all artifice. You can go to one of three town squares every night and hear one of the rotating live bands perform, generally in front of large crowds of seated people while one or two brave couples sway awkwardly on the dance floor. Sometimes, a handful of line dancers emerge for a song to do an uncomfortable, unsmiling routine that looks more like solemn ritual than joyful performance. You can do this all while housing a three dollar Long Island Iced Tea to the dome. 

Needless to say, it’s also super white here and the politics are off-the-charts awful.

Figure 5: A picture I took last night of a store selling honest-to-god oil paintings of a slimmed down Donald Trump enjoying various leisure activities with historical figures.

Oh, and let’s just address the elephant in the room: Rumor has it this place is horny as hell, with a population that’s just riddled with STDs. I can’t find anything to substantiate the popular story that this is a hotbed for swingers, it’s just a rumor everyone I talk to seems to know about. However, given that management in The Villages certainly knows about this rumor, since everyone else in the continental US does, it seems absolutely fucking bananas bonkers that they let the promotional magazine I found in my parents’ living room go out with the following headline: 

Figure 6: Are we still doing phrasing?

I just don’t get it, man. I straight up can’t figure out what my parents see in this place, much less why they’d want to own property here. It doesn’t comport with the intelligent and engaged people I know them to be? Sometimes, it just feels almost disappointing, like the way I’m sure they’d feel if I’d chosen to go to a party school for college. 

But look, kids, I’m here venting about this insane place to you guys because I’m NOT venting it to my parents, and I’m not telling my parents that this whole gated community can blow me, because this place isn’t for me. As a non-retiree with a decent amount of punk rock sentiment left in me, I Was Not Meant To See This Place, but while I’m horrified (and oh, lord, am I horrified) by a lot of The Villages, I’m choosing kindness towards my parents and leaning into it. For whatever reason, they love it here, and they want their family to love it too, so when they asked hopefully for the hundredth time if me and my brother and sister-in-law would come down to visit, we said yes. When they asked if we’d play golf with them, I swallowed my huge distaste for the Dumbest Game of All Time, and I agreed that the manicured lawns were beautiful in their own way, and the landscaping was impressive, and I spent several hours trying to hit a ball into a hole for some fucking reason.

Here’s a fun fact about The Villages: get up early enough, and you can find alligators ambling across the golf courses, locating the next water trap to spend their day in; the biggest are fifteen feet long. The American alligator has existed in and around Florida for around eight million years, but the family alligatoroidea has existed since the late Cretaceous - 70 million years ago. Alligators have seen the dinosaurs reign and die out, and gone on to survive the rise of birds, mammals, and relatively recently, humans.

When I’m in The Villages, sometime it keeps me sane to think that whenever this garbage place collapses, the gators will swim through the wreckage and hunt in the same place an oil portrait of a slimmed down Donald Trump once hung.

[pocketseizure]

Disneybound

Case #0180602. Statement of Ted Nakamura, regarding a strange experience at the Haunted Mansion attraction in Disneyland, California. Statement recorded directly from subject on June 2, 2018.

Jonathan takes the statement of someone whose memories may not accurately reflect the events of his childhood. He then has a short conversation with Martin and learns something (perhaps not so) surprising about Elias.

The events of this story take place after Episode 103, "Cruelty Free" (the one in which Jon reads the statement of a farmer in New Zealand with a monster pig).

( This story is also on AO3. )

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Jon cast a level gaze at the American sitting on the other side of the table. He was fit and clean-shaven, and he appeared to be in his early thirties. He wore a wide grin and a bright red shirt depicting Minnie Mouse posing in front of the Eiffel Tower.

Jon sighed and pressed the record button of his tape recorder.

“Statement of Theodore Nakamura – ”

“Call me Ted, please. Or Teddy, if you like. All my friends do.”

“Ted Nakamura, regarding a strange phenomenon he experienced at the Haunted Mansion attraction in Disney World – ”

“Sorry, but it’s ‘Disneyland.’ Disney World is the one in Florida.”

“In Disneyland, California. Statement recorded directly from subject on May 25, 2018.”

“This is exciting! I love the detail you’ve devoted to authenticity. The tape recorder is a nice touch.”

Jon grimaced. “Statement begins.”

A hint of uncertainty crept into Ted’s smile. “I’ve never done this before. Is there a protocol? Maybe some sort of standard introduction I should start with?”

“Just tell me about the incident you came to report. You can start whenever you’re ready.”

“All right, I’ll start at the beginning.”

Ted clapped his hands on his knees and took a deep breath. Jon watched as his eyes made a brief circuit around the densely packed shelves arranged in disorderly rows at the rear of the room before finally coming to rest on one of the objects jammed between the accordion folders and cardboard boxes. He’d witnessed this process often enough that he could pinpoint the object of the man’s attention – a cloudy snow globe with a tarnished metal base. It wasn’t connected to any of the cases on file in the archives, merely something Gertrude had brought back from one of her travels on a whim.

“I guess you could say that I’m not the sort of person who would be the star of a Disney movie,” Ted began. “I’m not an orphan, and I had a happy childhood. My mother was an architect who moved from San Francisco to Los Angeles during the construction boom of the 1980s, and my father went to business school at UCLA and never left. His family is from Seattle, and they made some money in real estate in the 1990s. We’re comfortably middle class, but I went to one of the big public schools in Orange County.”

He paused, seeming to expect some sort of reaction. When it became clear that no such reaction was forthcoming, he continued.

“Even in LA, where everyone tries to stand out, high school was all about belonging to a group. I didn’t have any interest in the grandstanding of my school’s Gay-Straight Alliance, and I didn’t have the looks or the talent for the student theater club, which is where a lot of kids like me spent a year or two on their way out of the closet. Mostly I kept my grades up and my head down as my circle of friends from middle school gradually went their separate ways.

“My mom worked from home, and she made sure our house had the first high-speed internet connection in my neighborhood. I don’t mind admitting that I spent a lot of time online. I posted an embarrassing number of bad stories about cartoon characters on LiveJournal, and I eventually ended up being invited to join a popular Disney fan community moderated by a friend of a friend. All the people I spoke with on the comm were strangers, at least at first, but we gradually got to know one another as we responded to each other’s posts and comments.

“Between one thing and another, we somehow managed to figure out that most of us were the same age. Oddly enough, a lot of us lived in SoCal, so we decided to meet up over the summer at Disneyland. Everyone showed up, and we had a great time. We met again the next summer, and then again after my senior year.

“Nothing bad happened, but I stopped updating my LiveJournal after that. I went to college in New York, got a job in the city, and fell out of touch with most of my online friends.

“I moved back to LA four years ago, not that I do anything glamorous. I manage the back end of a tech company’s website and intranet, mostly database stuff, but I still have an IG account. I started it just for fun, but I joined early and picked up more than a thousand followers in less than a year. Someone suggested that it would be cool for me to visit to Disneyland and post photos, so I thought, why not? Like, I love Disneyland!”

Jon cleared his throat. “And what is this ‘strange incident’ you came to report?”

“Hold your horses, I’m getting to it. It’s important that you know my background, right? What I’m trying to say is that I’d only been to Disneyland three times before. It wasn’t a major part of my life. But it was a good part of my life – that’s important.”

Jon nodded in acknowledgment. “Very well, then. Duly noted.”

“Disneyland was considered to be a little seedy when I was in high school, but it’s gotten fancy in the past ten years or so. It used to be that you could just walk in, but these days you practically have to make an itinerary. So I did some research, got a group of people together, and we went and saw the sights. Everyone wore an outfit to match the style of a character, and we took a lot of pictures. The photos were so popular that I hit 5k followers in less than 24 hours, can you believe it? Everyone and their sister is into DisneyBounding these days, but picking up that sort of following from on-location fashion photos was still a thing you could do in 2015.

“Like I said, I had a happy childhood, but no one ever paid me that sort of attention. It was such a dopamine hit, you have no idea. Or maybe you do?”

Jon grit his teeth. “Please continue with the statement.”

Ted laughed. “Pushy, aren’t you? But that’s all right. It’s weird, but I feel like I can tell you anything. Has anyone ever said that to you before?”

“You’re not the first.”

“Maybe it’s the librarian thing you’ve got going on – or archivist thing, sorry. Puts me right at ease. And I appreciate that. If there’s an adult who willingly goes to Disneyland for fun, especially someone like me, people tend to think that’s creepy. The therapist I was seeing at the time called it ‘Peter Pan Syndrome,’ of all things. I never went to another appointment with her again, but that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to say is that I kept going back to Disneyland, usually with friends but sometimes with my boyfriend, who I met on Insta. We bonded while sharing theories about the Haunted Mansion, which is… Well, it used to be my favorite ride in the park. It still is, I guess, but I can’t go on it anymore.

“It took me long enough to get here, but this is the part of my story that should interest you. The reason I like the Haunted Mansion is because it reminds me of my mother, who passed away from a heart attack while I was living in New York. It was very sudden, completely out of the blue, and I never got to say good-bye. I never cared about the Haunted Mansion when I was in high school – we all thought it was cringe for some silly teenage reason that probably involved how awkward it would be if we were in the dark with each other. It wasn’t until I visited the park again as an adult that I finally went on the ride. When I did, I had this sudden flashback to a childhood memory.

“I must have gone to Disneyland with my parents when I was young, because standing in the dark and listening to the music made me recall being on the ride with my mother. This was during the lead-up, before you get in the Doom Buggies and begin the ride proper. I remember being absolutely terrified by what I thought was an endless maze. I felt like that line, after it entered the building, lasted forever. Kids can be like that sometimes, but my memory of this is crystal clear – the corridor genuinely didn’t end. I felt like there were people all around us, there had to be, but somehow it was just me and my mother, alone in the darkness.

“And then I remember that this terrible thing appeared out of nowhere. I’m not sure how to describe it. It definitely wasn’t a person in a costume, but it was too realistic to be the projection of a cartoon, and it was talking to us in voice that sounded like laughter and crying at the same time. Like it was hurt, but it found its pain amusing. Meanwhile, the walls kept stretching, and as they got taller I started to see awful things in the gaps between the ceiling and the floor.

“My mother held my hand the whole time. She kept whispering to me: ‘It’s going to be okay. You are brave, and you are strong. Nothing in here can hurt you.’ Just that, over and over, until the ride was over.

“When we finally got out, I ran straight to my dad, who knelt down on the pavement on the other side of the gate and hugged me. He and my mother both patted my back as I cried. I was so relieved to be outside again that my tears wouldn’t stop.

“My dad seemed confused by how afraid I was. This didn’t occur to me until I started thinking about it much later, but isn’t it strange that he didn’t understand why a young child would be frightened by a scary ride?

“I moved back to LA almost immediately after my mom’s funeral, but Dad became a little distant with me. We were both grieving, and it must have seemed callous to him that I was posting shots of myself at Disneyland on social media right after Mom died. Really I just needed a break from the move, from my job, from mourning, from everything – and I guess a part of me felt like my mother would never die as long as I kept returning to that memory of her holding my hand in the Haunted Mansion.

“My dad eventually moved on and married a younger woman. She would probably be my evil stepmother if my life were a Disney movie, but she’s actually a princess, and I adore her. I spend more time with her than I do with my dad these days, but I’m trying to do better. I thought I could reconnect with him if I took him along with me on a visit to the park, but he turned down my invitation. He told me he enjoyed my photos, but that he had never been to Disneyland and had no interest in going. Too many screaming children, he said.

“That was a surprise to me, so I told him about my memory of the Haunted Mansion. While I was talking, his face went completely pale. I don’t mean that as a figure of speech – it was like all the blood had been drained from his skin.

“He insisted that he had never been to Disneyland with me and my mother, but then he told me something strange. When I was about five years old, we went to visit his family in Seattle. My grandfather had just taken on management of a property in Capitol Hill, one of the old Gothic Revival mansions that used to be common there before the neighborhood gentrified. It was an old house, almost as old as the city itself, but my grandfather was having trouble finding potential buyers. The property had been designed by the student of a famous British architect by the name of Robert Smirke, and he wanted my mother to come take a look. Do a walkthrough, point out any potential areas of interest and value, that sort of thing.

“According to my father, my mother had a bad experience in that house. She refused to talk about it with him or anyone else, and she never went back to Seattle. She took me along with her on her tour of the property, and I was apparently just as upset as she was when we came out, even though my dad says we spent less than ten minutes inside. If I thought this place was the Haunted Mansion, and if the ride at Disneyland evoked such a strong memory, it makes me wonder – what did we see in that house?

“I checked with my grandfather, and he said the property never did find a buyer. The only person who seemed seriously interested was a British woman by the name of Gertrude Robinson. Shortly after she made inquiries, the place burned down. Imagine my surprise when I ran a search and learned that this Gertrude Robinson was employed by an institute dedicated to paranormal research.

“So,” Ted concluded, meeting Jon’s eyes, “I gave you my statement. I hope it will be useful to you. I was wondering what you could tell me in return.”

“Not much, I’m afraid. As you can see, we’re still in the process of organizing our records. We’ll investigate to the best of our abilities and contact you if we learn anything.”

“I would love that, thank you. Well, you have my information so…”

“We’ll be in touch. I believe I see my assistant Melanie hovering around. She used to have a large following on social media herself. I’m sure she’d be happy to show you outside.”

“So you’re from LA,” Jon heard Melanie say as she held the door open. Ted directed his dazzling smile at her, which she returned before allowing the door to slam shut behind them.

“Statement ends,” Jon muttered as listened to their conversation growing fainter. He ended the recording and leaned back in his chair.

“Any thoughts you’d like to share, Martin?”

“Oh, I, um,” Martin stammered. “I didn’t want to interrupt the, you know. The statement.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he emerged from between the shelves.

“It’s fine, Martin. It was a relief. To know that you were listening.”

“I’m sorry, I… What? It was?”

“I’ve never been good with people like that.”

“People like… Wait, excuse me?���

“People who are so…” Jon made a vague gesture to illustrate his point. “Sunny. Bright. Content. When someone comes here to make a statement, they’re usually upset.”

“Ah, right. I can see what you mean. But he looks like he just got back from a trip to the happiest place on earth.”

“The happiest place on earth?”

“You know, Disneyland Paris.”

“Disneyland Paris? They finished construction?”

“A few decades ago, actually.”

Jon sympathized with Ted Nakamura’s father. Between the crowds and the relentless sunshine, he couldn’t imagine a more ghastly location, and by this point he considered himself something of an expert on cursed geography.

“I don’t suppose we’ll have to go there ourselves to investigate,” he said, making an attempt to smile. He failed. His muscles were still tense from the process of taking a statement, and his face felt frozen.

“Really? You… want to go to Disneyland Paris? I suppose I could come too, I mean, if it’s not…”

Jon was alarmed by how red Martin’s face was becoming. Did Martin want to go to a theme park? Jon didn’t know much about Disneyland – or Paris, for that matter – but his childhood had been unusual, to say the least. He’d never asked, but Martin’s family couldn’t have been much if he had nowhere to sleep but down here in the archives. Perhaps he could use a vacation. Perhaps they both could.

Jon turned to face his assistant. “Martin, I…”

“Did someone say Disneyland Paris?”

Jon frowned. “Does this conversation interest you, Elias?”

“I heard you were planning a trip. You really must go sometime. It’s fantastic, quite the experience. I went myself, back in 1996.”

Elias made a quick series of taps on the screen of his phone before holding it out in front of him. Jon and Martin leaned forward to get a better look.

In the photo, Elias was posing next to someone wearing a Mickey Mouse costume. He wore an aloha shirt over denim shorts, and he was grinning from ear to ear. The camera had caught him in the act of pulling a tall man with a square jaw and a severe expression into the frame. The image quality was poor, but the man seemed far too pale for the summer sunshine.

Jon’s frown deepened. “And that is…?”

“Oh, this is Peter. You’ll meet him soon enough, I’m sure.”

“Do you, um. Do you go to Disneyland often, then?” Martin asked.

“Just the once. Peter lost a bet, you see.”

“Right.” Jon couldn’t put his finger on it, but he had a bad feeling about this.

“I wouldn’t mind going back. We could all go together, make an office party of it. It would be fun. You do know what fun is, don’t you, Archivist?”

Martin’s eyes darted between Elias and Jon. “I don’t think it’s safe to…”

“Come now,” Elias interrupted. “Would you have any reason not to?”

“China.”

“Excuse me?”

“China. I need to follow up on a statement, something Gertrude was looking into before she traveled to New Zealand.”

“Excellent. I’m glad that’s settled. I’ll leave you to your preparations, then.”

“Damn it.” Jon clenched his fists on the table as Elias left. A trap had been set, and he’d walked right into it.

“Don’t feel bad,” Martin said, oddly perceptive. After everything they’d been through, Jon was coming to appreciate that about him. “At least we know that Elias is still human. He likes Disneyland, after all.”

Jon wasn’t convinced that a fondness for theme parks qualified someone as being ‘human,’ but what would he know? He had to admit that Elias was right about one thing – it would do him good to get out of the archives.

“Are you really going to China, then?”

“I suppose I am.” Jon removed his glasses and rubbed his forehead.

“I’ve always wanted to go someplace like that, somewhere far away,” Martin said, his eyes darting to the tape recorder on the table. “I’d like to hear about it. If you don’t… If you don’t mind, of course. Maybe I could, I mean, we could go out for a coffee together. After you get back.”

“All right,” Jon replied, replacing his glasses. That would be rather nice, actually. “After I get back.”

[saveyourblood]

Stolen Dance | Ch. 6

Summary: “Maybe this was a pipe dream, a delusion you’d soon awake from or a phase you’d outgrow. You didn’t really care. For a brief moment in time, you were in love. That’s what you chose to care about. That what you made matter.”

The one where you’re a paramedic, he’s an FBI agent, and the time you spend together is borrowed.

Notes: Thought you could escape me? Never.

Word Count: 5.1k

Song: The Enemy - Andrew Belle

Warnings: Normal CM warnings. 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

_____________________

“What are you afraid of?”

You looked up. Spencer was laying beside you, his arms crossed over his chest as he laid on his side. You had one hand under your head, the other resting on the mattress in the space between you and him.

“Jean shorts,” you said in a faux scared voice. “And crocs. And when you put them together…”  You shuddered.

Spencer scoffed with a smile, which made you giggle. 

“Come on,” he pressed. “You served in the military. You lost a parent. You got deployed, and you came back alive. What scares you?”

You sighed in consideration.

Fear was something you hadn’t thought about in awhile. Loss, yes. Loneliness, absolutely.  Anger passed your mind once or twice. But fear? You couldn’t remember the last time you were afraid for yourself.

“Getting attached,” you answered quietly. “I’m afraid of commitment. Well, not actually. I’m afraid of losing the people I love. It got worse when my dad died, but, I don’t know… I think it’s always been there.”

“How do you deal with it?”

“I don’t love. I care, I feel, I consider. But I try my hardest not to love anything, because if I lose it, it doesn’t hurt as bad.” 

“You can’t just decide to not love,” Spencer argued softly.

You smiled sadly. “You’d be surprised what I do to keep myself safe.”

“You mean to keep yourself from hurting?”

You shrugged. “Same thing.” 

You stepped out of the room, wiping your eyes and sucking in a breath. You wandered back down a few of the station’s hallways, eventually finding Hotch.  He dismissed the officer he was speaking to. 

“What’s going on?” He asked as he approached you.

“I’m just slowing Spencer down,” you lied, forcing out a laugh. “Ya know, photographic memory and all. I was wondering if I would be more useful somewhere else?” 

Hotch studied you for a moment, then nodded slowly. “You can observe the interrogation. You’ll be sent to the field if Missy Dewald shows up.” 

“You mean if her body shows up?”

“We don’t know how Harris’s partner will react to the news of his betrayal,” Hotch said. “It’s possible that he lets Dewald go in an act of defiance.”

“It’s also possible that he kills her a lot sooner than any of the other girls.”

“That is a possibility,” Hotch replied, before dismissing himself. 

You ran a hand through your hair. Cases like this sucked. 

“That’s her,” The detective said. “That’s Missy Dewald. I looked her father in the eye and told him I’d find her alive.” 

She looked identical to all the other victims: young, conventionally attractive, and strangled to death. Missy also had ligature marks around her wrists, which was seen on Harris’s other victims. What wasn’t seen, however, was the bite mark on her shoulder. 

“So in the time we’ve been here, she went missing and turned up dead,” Emily thought aloud. “Do you think Harris dumped the body before he was taken into custody?”

Rossi shook his head. “The M.E. says she’s been dead for several hours.”

“Harris has been in custody for the last several hours,” you said, pointing out the obvious.

“So you think we have the wrong guy?” The detective asked.

“He’s communicating with someone,” Derek said instead. “He’s confident they won’t turn against him.”

“Like an affair?”

“Like a partner,” Derek corrected. 

“The only way we can break ground with Harris is to find out who his partner is,” you said.

Derek nodded in agreement. “Let’s go break some ground, then.”

You followed him back to the SUV; Emily and Rossi were staying behind to collect evidence. While getting into the vehicle and pulling onto the road, you were quiet.

“Hopefully Reid knows more by the time we get back,” He said conversationally.

You nodded.

“Hey, are you okay?” Derek asked. His tone was questioning, but a hint of worry seeped through.

You faked a smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Normally, you jump at the idea of working with Spencer,” he said. “But today, you looked for a reason not to. Why is that?”

“I’m not useful to him today,” you said nonchalantly. “His brain works faster than mine.” 

“That’s never stopped you before,” he chuckled. 

Derek glanced over. You said nothing. He sighed.

“Look, I’m not supposed to tell you this, but… He likes you.”

You raised your eyebrows in feign surprise. “He told you that?”

“He didn’t have to,” Derek replied. “I know that kid better than he knows himself sometimes.”

You actually snorted. You highly doubted the authenticity of that claim. 

“Come on, don’t act like you don’t like him too,” Derek chuckled. “We all see the way you two interact. There’s something going on.”

‘You have no idea’, you thought bitterly.

“Even if I wanted to, it’s not like I could do anything about it,” you mumbled. “Dating someone on the team is considered a conflict of interest.” 

“Like rules ever stopped you,” he teased.

“Look, can you drop it?” you snapped. “We’re not in middle school — we’re grown-ass adults with grown-ass feelings and problems.” You closed your eyes and sighed in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Derek. I shouldn’t have snapped. It’s been a rough couple of days, and I’m… I’m sorry.” 

“Nolan?” Derek asked simply, gently.

“Yeah,” you agreed, then looked out your window. If only it were that simple.

“You know we’ve got your back, right Y/N?” Derek said. “We never would have let anything happen to you.” 

“I know,” you agreed. “That’s not what’s bothering me.”

“Then what is?”

You turned back to look at him, a sad smile on your face. “I spent 18 months in an active war zone. I watched men be turned to nothing but pulp by IEDs. But that’s not even the worst part. The worst part was treated Syrian children who got caught in the crossfire. They came in on the brink of death, and they left on crutches, missing one or both legs. They were nothing but collateral damage to men who couldn’t seem to agree. It’s such bullshit.”

“Did Nolan bring it all back up?”

“Him among other things,” you said.

“If you ever want to talk about it, I’m all ears,” Derek promised.

“Thanks.” 

“His partner is a biter,” Rossi said, showing the crime scene photos to Reid.

“They’ve never done that before,” Spencer said, observing the red teeth marks on Missy Dewald. 

“He might be going back to what’s comfortable now that Harris isn’t around,” Rossi agreed.

“So you think he’s a repeat offender?” you asked, unable to help yourself.

Spencer briefly looked up at you, then cleared his throat. “It’s possible. Garcia should run dental records, see if the mark matches anything on-file.” 

“I’ll get on that,” you said, silently dismissing yourself from the conversation.

“Turns out, there’s a lot of sick pups in Central Florida,” Penelope said through the phone. “Today’s marks don’t match William Harris, but they do match a rape that was reported earlier this year in Manatee County.”

“That’s great; you found a match,” Emily said.

“Yeah, the teeth belong to the same person, but they’ve never been arrested, so I can’t cross reference,” Garcia said.

“What about the victim?” Hotch asked.

“Connie Meyers — she still lives in the area,” she answered.

“Send Prentiss the address; Y/L/N, go with,” Hotch ordered.

“They’re gonna ask who you are,” Connie said nervously. “They don’t know.” 

For that reason exactly, you left your bomber jacket in the car and borrowed the plain one Emily was wearing. For the first time since working in the BAU, you didn’t feel like your identity was being screamed off of a rooftop.

“We’re just buying flowers,” you assured. You pointed to a bouquet. “Those daisies are nice.”

“In the report, it says your attacker knew what he wanted,” Emily said in a low voice. “That he was confident?”

“More like a control freak,” Connie said. “He wore a mask, but I could tell he was white. He choked me. It took a long time for the bruises to go away. If the lighting is right, it’s like I can still see his hand. It’s nothing compared to the bite marks, though. They’re scars now.”

“I know what that feels like,” you said softly, which gained both Connie and Emily’s attention. “I’m sorry.”

Connie nodded, then grabbed the bouquet you asked for. “I’ll go wrap these for you.”

“Thank you.”

When Connie was out of earshot, you turned to Emily. “Are we seriously talking two alpha males?” 

“It seems so.” 

“The man we’re looking for is just like your father,” you said, taking a seat next to Andrea, William’s daughter. “He’s smart, strong confident. He might have a family also.”

“Oh, so now you’re going to accuse someone else’s dad of murder?” Andrea asked.

You let out a breath. “I know this is hard, Andrea, but —”

“Do you?” She asked. “Do you know?”

“Yes,” you said calmly. “I know. He’s your dad: you don’t want to believe he can do wrong. But Andrea — and I mean this in the nicest way possible — this isn’t about you. Really, it’s not even about your father. It’s about the girls that are being kidnapped, raped, and murdered. Don’t you think their families deserve… something? Some kind of closure?”

She didn’t say anything.

“We think the accomplice has done this before,” you continued. “He’s been described as a white man in his 40s. He’s someone you might recognize, and there’s a good chance he’ll check up on you.” 

“Why would he do that?” “He’s worried about your dad, but he has no way to contact him. You and your mother are the next best thing.”

Once again, she said nothing.

You stood up. “Stay safe, Andrea,” you said before walking off to find Emily. 

You walked into your apartment, throwing your bag and jacket onto the floor. Normally, you were neater and more organized, but today, you were exhausted. You got back from a case a couple hours before having to attend lectures in the morning. You thought coffee replaced the blood flowing through your veins. 

You walked into the kitchen, getting a glass of water before turning in for the night. When you turned around, you noticed something sitting on your kitchen counter.

Pink, purple, and blue daisies filled a vase you didn’t buy. A white note on top stuck out. 

‘The apartment needs some decoration.

-Spencer.’

You bit your lip with a smile. 

The case ended with William and his partner, who turned out to be his neighbor, behind bars. Andrea and her mother were in shambles, but no one expected otherwise. You felt bad for them both. They made the investigation more difficult, yes, but it wasn’t intentional. They loved him. They didn’t want to believe he was capable of evil. 

“Great work everyone,” Hotch praised as the team filtered back into the office. “Go home, get some sleep.”

Everyone went to their desks, including you. You were starting to regret picking the one next to Spencer.

“Y/N,” Hotch said, catching your attention. “Can I speak to you before you leave?” 

You nodded, swallowing. “Sure.” 

He nodded before walking upstairs. 

You gathered  your things, refusing to look at anyone. By the time you ascended the stairs, you thought Spencer’s gaze would burn a hole through your skin. You slipped into Hotch’s office before that could happen.

“Take a seat,” Hotch said, already in the chair behind his desk.

You did as you were told.

“What happened today?” He asked.

You frowned. “Did I do something wrong, sir?”

“Reid told me you were the one to discover two authors in the blog posts,” he said instead. “Why didn’t you mention that?”

You shrugged. “It didn’t seem important.”

“It didn’t cross your mind when you asked to be reassigned?” He inquired. 

You bit your lip. 

“Since you joined the BAU, you and Spencer have made an excellent team,” Hotch continued. “I’d hate to see that relationship ruined.”

“It isn’t,” you assured. “Just because I want to work with other people doesn’t mean I hate Spencer. I have other people to learn from, is all.”

Hotch studied you for a moment. “It’s okay to confide in people, Y/N. It’s okay if you confide in someone on this team. In… unique circumstances, HR should be informed, but it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Okay, I’m gonna stop you right there,” you said. “What happened between Spencer and I started before I worked here. It started before you even offered me a job. But it’s over now. We were together. We aren’t now. We’re adults: we know how to be civil. We know how to put personal issues aside and focus on the job at hand. You have nothing to worry about. So am I good to go?” 

He nodded. 

“Great,” you muttered, standing up and walking to the door.

“Y/N?” Hotch said. 

You turned around. 

“You went to war, and 3 weeks ago, a man held a gun to your head,” Hotch stated. “If you need help, you should ask for it.”

“I’m okay,” you said. “I’ve lived through worse.” 

“Who is this?”

You smiled, turning away from your record player. “Lord Huron.”

You began swaying to the music. You offered Spencer your hand. He shook his head. 

“I don’t dance,” he said. 

Ignoring his protests, you grabbed both of his hands and slowly pulled him to his feet. “It’s a long night, can I spend it with you? ‘Cause you’re oh so pretty when you stand on the edge…”

When the refrain began to play, you extended your arms outwards, still holding Spencer’s hands, and pulled yourself back in. Spencer caught your drift, spinning you a few times. You giggled, throwing your head back. 

The two of you continued to dance like that; focusing more on the feeling and moving to the beat versus worrying what the two of you looked like. Once or twice, you even reached your hand up to twirl Spencer. He of course obliged, which made you erupt with laughter. 

As the song died down, you rested your arms on his shoulders. His hands found your waist, and the two of you swayed to the sound. When the song was over, he pulled you into a kiss. 

You woke up from your dream. It wasn’t a nightmare, and yet, you cried yourself back to sleep. 

8 AM sharp, you were sitting in the briefing room with the rest of the team. You sat at one end of the table, while Spencer occupied the other.

“10-year-old Sammy Sparks of Lafayette Parish, Louisiana showed up to school this morning covered in blood,” Garcia said. 

A few pictures appeared on the monitor behind her; a young boy, no older than ten, had blood spatters across his hands and one side of his face.

“When the police got to his house, they discovered that his parents, Charlie and Allison Sparks, are missing.” 

“Forensics show that at least one of them was injured,” Derek said.

“That amount of blood? I’m guessing gunshot,” you added.

“Has there been a ransom demand?” Emily asked.

Garcia shook her head. “None whatsoever.” 

Rossi frowned. “Then why call in the BAU?” 

“New Orleans Police is hoping we can interview Sammy,” Hotch answered.

“No one has talked to the witness yet?” Spencer asked in confusion. 

“Sammy’s autistic,” Hotch clarified. “Getting him to talk won’t be easy. I’m hoping you and Y/N will be able to get through to him.” 

You looked up from the file. “You want me to talk to Sammy?”

Everyone but Spencer looked at you.

“Is that a problem?” Hotch inquired.

“Of course not,” you said immediately. “It’s just… I’m not a profiler, and I don’t have much experience when it comes to autism. I don’t understand how I’m any more qualified than anyone else on the team.” 

The team shared a look. 

“Who’s gonna tell her?” Emily said.

You frowned. “Tell me what?” 

“Y/N, you’re amazing with kids,” Garcia said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“...I don’t understand.”

“Are you kidding?” JJ chuckled. “Angel, Katie, Jeremy… you might have more maternal instinct than I do.” 

“What? That’s ridiculous,” you scoffed.

“We can finish this debate on the jet,” Hotch intervened. “Wheels up in 30.” 

You and Spencer were led into a private room in the police station. You saw Sammy sitting on the couch, a pad of paper in his hand. He used crayons to draw the same two lines over and over again.

“Hi Sammy,” Spencer greeted warmly. “I’m Dr. Spencer Reid. What are you drawing?” 

The police officer that showed you in set his hand on Sammy’s arm. He immediately screamed and lurched back. He then began to rock back and forth in his seat. 

“Some autistic kids don’t respond well to touch,” you explained. The officer merely dismissed himself from the room, silently acknowledging that this situation was beyond him.

“It’s possible that witnessing his parents’ abduction pushed him into emotional overload and he shut down,” Spencer said in a low voice.

“Could be why he’s drawing the same thing over and over again,” you agreed. “Or, maybe he’s trying to tell us something.” 

“Sammy,” Spencer said, taking a seat on the coffee table opposite of the couch. “We’re looking for your mom and dad. Did ‘L’ take them?”

Sammy, still holding the crayon, lifted his hand into the air. He began making an ‘L’ motion with his hand. 

You excused yourself from the room, fishing your phone out of your pocket. 

“Go for Garcia.”

“Hey, Penn,” you greeted. “I need you to run a list of everyone that associated with the Sparks family — focus on anyone who’s first or last name starts with an ‘L’.”

“I have run every ‘L’ I can find, think of, or make up in my giant, magic head, and nothing fits,” Garcia said.

You, Hotch, Spencer, and Derek all stood around a table in the police station. You were on a video call with Garcia, as she said she had news to share with everyone. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the news you wanted to hear.

“Have you found Sammy’s next of kin?” Hotch asked. 

“Only by name. Charlie has a sister named Elizabeth that was last reported residing in Mont Belvieu, Tejas. But she’s not responding to calls or email.” 

“Elizabeth could stand for Liz or Lizzie,” Spencer said. 

“Could be where he’s getting the letter ‘L’ from,” you nodded in agreement. “We need to find her, and we need to find her fast.”

“I’ll find her so fast that the world will reverse rotation and time will bend backwards. Hello,” Garcia rattled before signing off. 

While Spencer and the rest of the team explored leads on the parents, you decided to sit with Sammy and see if you could make some headway. 

“Hey, Sammy,” you said, taking a seat next to him on the couch. You were sure to leave a decent amount of space between the two of you. “My name is Y/N. I was in here earlier with my friend Spencer. Do you remember that?”

Sammy continued to draw his picture, which now seemed to consist of stars that looked like asterisks.

“I love your drawings,” you praised. “They have great color.”

You picked up one of his previous drawings, a sheet that was covered with ‘L’s. 

“What does this one mean, Sammy?” you asked.

Sammy glanced at the paper you were holding. He inhaled sharply and began to rock back and forth.

“Okay, it’s okay,” you said, setting down the paper. “You’re okay, Sammy. You’re safe.”

When he settled  back down, you noticed that Sammy was tapping his fingers in a particular pattern. You observed him for a moment before it clicked.

“Sammy’s trying to tell us something,” you said, bursting into the conference room.

Everyone stared at you. 

“Y/N, this is Elizabeth, Sammy’s aunt,” Rossi said.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said. “Sammy’s trying to tell us something.”

“Tell us what?” Spencer prompted.

“When I showed him his own drawing, the one with all the ‘L’s, he panicked,” you explained. “Then, he started tapping his fingers. I think he’s trying to play something.”

“Like on the piano?” Derek asked.

“He was playing when his parents were kidnapped,” Spencer recalled. “He might be remembering something.” 

“Is there any way we can get a keyboard?” You asked.

“We should bring him back to the house,” Rossi said. “Taking him back to the exact location could trigger something.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” you frowned. “He’s already pretty upset…”

“Whatever he’s trying to tell us could be the key to finding his parents,” Spencer countered. “But, of course, the ultimate decision is up to his guardian.”

You, Spencer, and Rossi all looked to Elizabeth.

“I’m supposed to decide?” She asked. 

“You’re his legal guardian right now,” Rossi repeated. “The decision is yours.”

The three of you let Sammy enter the house first. He went to the piano almost immediately, but didn’t sit down right away; he ran his toy train along the frame first.

“How long has it been since you’ve seen him?” You asked Elizabeth.

“His 5th birthday,” she answered.

“5 years ago,” you said in shock.

“Charlie and I had a falling out,” Elizabeth explained. “It got ugly. I haven’t seen either of them since.” She paused. “Do you think you’ll find him?”

“I hope so,” you said with a reassuring smile.

“Sammy, is it alright if I sit here?” Spencer asked. 

He let a few seconds pass before taking a seat on the piano bench. Then, he began to play a scale.

Sammy took a seat next to him and began to play the same scale, only in a higher octave. 

“Woah, you’ve been holding out on me, Sammy,” Spencer said with a wide smile. He then played the scale backwards. Sammy did the same. 

“Sammy, how about you play this note,” Spencer said, then played a G, “for yes, and this note,” he played a C, “for no. Does that sound like something you can do?” 

Sammy played ‘yes’.

“Yeah, just like that,” Spencer praised. “Now, Sammy, do you remember when the man came and took your parents away?”

He played ‘yes’ again. He pressed the same key several times. Then, Sammy began to play a song. It sounded beautiful, like something ballerinas would dance to.

“Sammy, I don’t understand,” Spencer said softly. “Does this song mean something to you?” 

Sammy stopped playing. He set his hand in his lap. You thought he might stand up or walk out. But then, you saw him lift Spencer’s hand onto the piano. Sammy pressed down Spencer’s thumb, middle, and pinkie finger, all of them playing a different note. He then played the same three notes, but once again in higher octave. 

Sammy played the three notes in a specific order, one that sounded like the roots of the song he was playing mere moments ago. After repeating the rhythm a few times, Spencer joined seamlessly.

“Do you want to have kids?” Spencer asked.

You considered, then nodded. “One day. After I’m done with school, probably. What about you?” 

“I find the concept of pregnancy and childbirth disturbing,”  Spencer admitted.

You laughed. “Me too. But from what I’ve heard, you forget all the nasty and annoying and painful parts when the baby comes.”

“Fatherhood does have a certain... appeal to it,” he agreed. Then, he smiled to himself fondly. He looked so beautiful you wanted to take a picture, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment.  You opted to take a mental picture instead. 

Elizabeth excused herself to use the restroom. After awhile, she didn’t come back downstairs, so you decided to make a trip upstairs. Spencer and Sammy were still busy playing the piano, so you figured they’d be okay without you for a moment. 

You checked the bathroom, not surprised to find it empty. You wandered further into the house, eventually finding Sammy’s room. You saw Elizabeth sitting on his bed.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, stepping into the room. 

“I’m a stranger in my own brother’s house. My nephew doesn’t recognize me,” she said. “And then, I find this.”

You took a seat next to her. She offered you a flipbook of pictures, one Sammy and his parents used. On one of the pages was a picture of Elizabeth.

“I always assumed he had no idea who I was,” Elizabeth said.

“What was the fight about, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“I was the one who suspected Sammy had autism,” she answered. “Charlie couldn’t see it. He was so upset, he kicked me out.”

You flipped through the rest of the book; each page had an illustration on it, and in the corner was a clock demonstrating a time. “What made you think he’s autistic?”

“He was… different,” Elizabeth said. “So, I did some research. Charlie was blind to it. He refused to accept what I found.” 

“It’s scary,” you said, “learning your child won’t have it as easy as you did. If it makes you feel any better, you probably helped Sammy; you might have even saved Charlie and Allison’s marriage.” 

You continued to flip through the booklet. You enjoyed routine, but the Sparks took it to a whole new level. Sammy’s entire life revolved around what he did, when he did it… he interprets the world through pictures.

Pictures.

You ran down the stairs and back into the living room.

“Spencer, come look at this,” you said, as you entered the room. Elizabeth followed suit. 

He stopped playing with Sammy to approach you. “What, his flip book?”

“Not just his flip book: his routine,” you said. “Shower, brush teeth, dress... His entire life is planned out in order.”

“Maybe we can figure out where he met the UnSub,” Spencer said.

“He already did,” you countered. “He lives his life in pictures.”

Spencer fumbled for his bag, pulling out Sammy’s drawings. “He’s been trying to speak to us, but he only communicates through symbols.”

He spread the drawings out on the floor. “It’s his language.”

You pointed to one on the far right. “Anchors, like your socks,” you said. Sure enough, Spencer lifted his pant leg to show blue socks covered with anchor designs. 

“And those are asterisks: it’s the logo on your jacket,” Spencer said.

You took off your jacket and looked at the back, though you’d hardly forgotten what the paramedic logo looked liked. 

“So what does the ‘L’ mean?” Elizabeth asked. 

“I don’t think it is an ‘L’,” Spencer disagreed. 

“It’s a time,” you said, pointing to the clock in the corner of each page.

“It’s the time he’s trying to tell us about — the time he met the UnSub,” Spencer concluded. “Where is he at 3:00?”

You flipped through. “2:30, music store. He doesn’t leave until it closes at 6.” 

Spencer was already on it, adjusting the time on his watch so it said 3:00.

“Hey, Sammy, it’s almost 3,” he said, showing Sammy his watch. “Is there some place you should be?”

Sammy ran his finger over the watchface, tracing the arms on the watch. 

“Should be, store,” he said. 

By the time you found the Sparks, it was too late for Charlie. You’d later learn he had been dead since the night before. It was also too late for the UnSub, but you didn’t feel so bad about that part, especially considering that Allison was the one who shot him. You comforted Elizabeth as she mourned the loss of her brother, and you watched Sammy as he reciprocated his mother’s hug for the first time in his life. It was a bittersweet ending. 

You entered your apartment, tossing your jacket, bag, and keys onto the couch. You moved into the kitchen, fixing yourself a drink. You already knew you wouldn’t be attending any lectures the next morning, so you poured yourself some Fireball. The first sip alone burned your throat and warmed your chest. 

You heard the doorknob jiggle. You reached for your pistol, which was in a holster on your side; you passed firearm certification a little over a week ago. 

Spencer opened the door. You let out a sigh that sounded more like a growl.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you asked, holstering your weapon. “You scared the shit out of me.” 

“Tobias Hankel,” he said.

“What?”

“Tobias Hankel is the man who hurt me,” he continued.

You shook your head, setting down your drink. “Please, not now, Spencer.” 

“He kidnapped me, tied me to a chair, and injected me with Dilaudid,” Spencer said. “I blacked out each time, and when I came back, he did it again. Once, he stopped my heart and had to resuscitate me.”

“Please, stop,” you said, voice growing weaker.

Spencer closed the door, stepping deeper into your apartment. “He held a gun to my head and made me choose which BAU team member he would kill.” 

“Stop,” you begged, voice no louder than a whisper.

“He hurt me, Y/N, and I wasn’t the same for a long time,” Spencer continued. “In some ways, I’m still different. But I’m okay. I found a way to live with it. And you can too, if you just talk. Just let me in. Let me help.” 

“You can’t help me!” you screamed. “No one can! Don’t you get it, Spencer?! I am broken. I came home broken, I live a broken life, and one day, I’ll die broken. That is my cross to bear, not yours.” 

“I love you,” Spencer said, swallowing thickly. “I love you and whatever mess you come with. So please, Y/N, I am begging you, let me help you.” 

You put a hand over your mouth to mask a sob. You felt Spencer move forward, trying to pull you into a hug. You pushed him away.

“Get the fuck away from me,” you cried, tears streaming down your face. 

Clearly, Spencer wasn’t one to give up easily. He grabbed you again, this time pressing your side into his chest so you couldn’t fight him with your arms. You clawed at his grip a few times, but really, you were just so tired. 

You broke down completely, sinking to the floor. Spencer followed you down, his face in your hair and his arms still tight around you. One of his forearms was across your chest, and you gripped it for dear life. 

_____________________

Notes: Yes, I 100%, without a doubt, stole most of those flashback scenes from other media lol. Fight me. 

Like what you read? Let me know! Feedback seriously keeps me inspired to write <3

Want to be tagged in future parts? Shoot me an ask!

[gaylotusthatexists]

30. with Logicality

Well this was fun to write! Which can probably be seen since I’ve actually written it on the same day I got the request. Here ya go dude, hope you enjoy :) 

Also on ao3 

To say that Patton was bad with directions would be an understatement; it was his first day in a new city and he was already lost. So incredibly lost. The instructions had been so simple, and yet he had been trying to figure out where he was meant to be going for the past twenty minutes. 

A tall, clearly aggravated woman barged past him, causing him to stumble to the side and almost crash into a brick wall. But still, he plastered on a smile. Sure, he was lost and everybody stared at him as though he was insane, but absolutely nothing could ruin his day. He was about to meet up with his best friend for the very first time (they had been talking to one another online for the better part of four years and had formed quite a close bond, but had unfortunately never got the chance to see each other in real life due to living on different sides of the Atlantic Ocean) and he felt the happiest he had felt in a long time. 

Of course, he would have left even happier if he knew where he was going. He had attempted to contact his friend, but they hadn’t responded - perhaps they were asleep (even though it was well past noon, this wouldn’t have surprised Patton) or perhaps they were just away from their phone. He suddenly came to the realisation that telling them he would be able to find his way himself was a terrible idea and he should have just taken them up on the offer to pick him up from the airport and drive him here. But no, he just had to insist that he could take a taxi from the airport and then walk to his friends house from the hotel. 

Unable to come up with any other solution, Patton approached two teenagers who seemed to know their way around town. “Hey, do you happen to know where I can find Smith Street?” 

The two teenagers gave Patton a look that anybody who wasn’t an optimist such as himself would describe as disgust, before walking away, leaving him completely alone. Well, Patton thought, that went well.

Sitting down on a bench, Patton let out a huge sigh. No matter what he told himself, it was hopeless. He had no internet, meaning Google Maps wouldn’t be any help, and his friend wasn’t picking up any of his calls. He’d just have to sit and wait until- 

“Hey,” somebody said, taking a seat beside him, “you look lost.”

Patton looked the stranger up and down. He wore a black button-up shirt and black skinny jeans, with a striped blue tie adding a splash of colour. A pair of thick rimmed, square, black glasses sat upon his nose, in front of a pair of concerned, deep brown eyes. His brown hair was slicked back, kept perfectly tidy aside from a single strand falling over his forehead. Although he couldn’t tell for sure since they were both sat down, Patton assumed that the stranger was taller than him, or at least had better posture so he appeared to be taller. But whoever this guy was, something within Patton told him he was trustworthy. 

“I am lost,” Patton confessed. 

“Are you a tourist?” the stranger asked. 

Patton nodded. “Yes. I came to visit a friend.” 

“Could I be of assistance?” 

Patton hummed. This was good, right? He could ask for directions and find his friends place and everything would be fine. “Yes, um, would you happen to know where Smith Street is?” 

The stranger thought for a moment. “Yes, I believe I do. Actually, I was just heading down that way. If you’d like, I could take you down there?” 

Patton’s eyes lit up. “Really?” 

“Yes?” 

“Oh, thank you! So much!” Patton exclaimed, standing up and grinning at him. “I’m Patton, by the way.” 

“Logan,” he introduced, standing up as well. The two began to walk, Patton paying extra close attention to make sure he went the right way. “So, when did you get here?” 

“I arrived last night,” Patton told him. “Stayed in the Premier Inn.” 

Logan nodded. “From your accent, I’m guessing you flew from America?” 

“Yeah. Florida,” Patton confirmed. “And I’m guessing you’ve been living here all your life?” Logan somehow sounded exactly like Patton had imagined all British people to sound like, just like on TV. 

“I have, yes. I only moved briefly to a city a few counties over for university, but I couldn’t help but come back home,” Logan told him. “I mean, this city isn’t great, but I like it. It feels safe.” 

“Do a lot of tourists come here?” Patton wondered. “It doesn’t really seem all that tourist-y.” 

“Some people come here,” Logan said, “although usually it’s other British people. We’re quite a historic town, which is appealing to some people. But if I’m being honest, this isn’t really a place that many people would come to for a holiday.” 

Patton looked around at his surroundings, which weren’t at all what he was expecting. “It doesn’t look that historic.” 

“That’s because the historic parts are further up north,” Logan said. “Certainly not this area. Apart from a few churches here and there, this part of town in fairly, well, boring, I guess. Not that tourist-y.” 

“Huh. I guess that’s why Virgil always said this place was boring,” Patton said. 

Logan frowned. “Virgil?” 

“My friend,” Patton explained. 

“As in, Virgil Andrews?” Logan asked. 

Patton looked at him. “Yes. How did you know?” 

“I went to school with him,” Logan stated. “We were never really ‘friends’, but I respected him.” 

Patton smiled. “That’s cool! Gosh, you should have become friends with them, they’re honestly such a great guy.” 

Logan looked down for a second. “Neither of us were one for people in school. It wouldn’t have worked, I don’t think.” 

“Oh,” said Patton, deflating a little, but soon perking back up to his usual self. “Well, can you tell me more about this place? You seem to know a lot, and Virgil never really speaks much about it, and I’d be really interested to know about all that historic stuff you mentioned.” 

Logan hesitated, before deciding to take on Patton’s request and soon enough he found himself telling him everything. All that he had learned from his late-night wikipedia reading, his many trips around the castle, the books he had found hidden in the corner of the local library. He went on about how the town came to be, how it changed over time, all the interesting stories that people had to tell about family, visitors, ghosts, events, and everything in between. And with each and every word, Patton’s heart began to fill up with more and more admiration, more and more love. Love for the city, love for the people, love for the stranger. He couldn’t stop listening, couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t stop smiling. 

When they finally reached their destination, Patton couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. 

“Hey, uh, before you go, can I ask you one more thing?” Patton wondered. 

Logan shrugged. “If you wish.” 

“Uh, well, I’m going to be around for a few more weeks, so I was wondering if maybe we could meet up again at some point?” Patton invited. “Maybe you could show me some of those places you were talking about.” 

Logan considered that for a moment, before finally saying, “Yes. I think I’d like that.” 

Patton grinned. “Great. Let me just…” He took out his phone and showed it to Logan. “Here’s my number.” 

Logan took out his own phone and, using the number displayed, sent Patton a message. “I’ll text you when I’m free to meet up, okay?” 

Patton nodded. “It’s a date!”

A silence spread out between the two of them for a moment. Logan breathed in and out and then smiled. “Yes. I suppose it is.” 

And with that, the two of them parted, knowing that it wouldn’t be long until they were reunited. They both left with a smile upon their faces and a new, wonderful feeling in their hearts. 

Just like he had thought, everything was going to be fine. 

taglist: @xx-fandom-potato-xx​ @bunny222​ @phantomofthesanderssides​ @everythings-coming-up-aces​ @aphriteblack​ @unknownanonymousgirl​  @tinkslittlebelle​ @jani-bunny54​ @noahlovescoffee​ @starryfirefliesbloggo​ @why-should-i-tell-youu2​ @unicorndragon1-2-3​ @ab-artist​​

[naturecoaster]

Reactions to Hurricane Idalia

It has been a long, hot summer. The hottest summer on record in many parts of the U.S. After thousands of people relocated to Florida over the last several years, I would guess they are rethinking their decisions. And then, Hurricane Idalia came to visit August 29-30. I am tired. Once again, Citrus, Hernando, and Pasco Counties were spared a direct hit. Those north of us, particularly Perry and Steinhatchee, Florida, were accosted by powerful winds and water surges that ripped off roofs and took away homes and structures. Some people take it all in stride, like the boat owners in Old Homosassa who met up at the local market in their boats. This photo was on Ryan Jenkins's Facebook page the day after the storm hit with the title, "First annual bring your boat to the jiffy store party." In 2022, we were spared a direct hit from Hurricane Ian, which devastated the Fort Myers to Punta Gorda area. They are still cleaning up and rebuilding from that huge hurricane, and some things will never come back. Hurricanes are Hard on the Emotions The emotions of hurricanes are hard. First, there’s the hype. “Get your water, gas for the generator, canned food, fill up the bathtub, put all of your outdoor furniture into a safe structure, etc.,” from the various emergency management departments, the news, and neighbors. Not to mention the weather shows, commentaries, memes, and stories. "Category 1, category 2, category 4 with sustained winds of…" And last year, we dodged a direct hit. Education about which side of the storm will get the worst wind, rain, flooding… Voluntary evacuation orders. Mandatory evacuation orders. School closures. Shelter openings. Sandbag stations. Jim Cantorelli is here. Spaghetti models. And now it’s over for our part of the Nature Coast… except for the cleanup, particularly in the coastal areas. And insurance claims. And rebuilding damaged areas, structures, and fences, clearing debris, and trimming trees. I am tired. Are you? And who is ready to talk business now? We are all whirling from what is and what could have been. Tired, and grateful that we didn’t get a direct hit. I live 25 miles inland, so I don’t have much cleanup, no flooding, and I live in a pasture, so I don’t even have tree cleanup, but I am recovering from the company of my children who had to evacuate with my 2-year old grandson who just doesn’t understand any of it. We did the same thing last year for Hurricane Ian, where we dodged the storm head-on, but were prepared and went through the emotional roller coaster. And then the survivor’s guilt when I saw my friend’s places in Sarasota and Punta Gorda destroyed. Particularly hard was seeing the video of a church camp I had stayed in a few months earlier for a conference that is now gone. Taken away by the storm and unable to rebuild. Image of Ozello from Ozello, Florida Facebook page. Peck's Old Port Cove restaurant can be seen by its grey pitch roof in the upper left corner. What about My Neighbors? “Are my neighbors ok? Did the power go out? Have the warnings, watches, and advisories been lifted?” This time, with Hurricane Idalia, my empathy is focused on the coastal areas of our Nature Coast, from Port Richey to Cedar Key. With friends owning property in Weeki Wachee, Hudson, Homosassa, Ozello, and Crystal River, the devastation and cleanup look daunting. I have heard reports of a 9-foot tidal surge along our coast. Many will need help to get through this. Some will need financial assistance. Some will need manpower. All need prayer. Good news at the Ellie Schiller Homosassa Springs Wildlife State Park: the animals are safe. After one of the storms many years ago, the Park created safe areas and procedures for each animal in their care. August 28-29, they were used. Hundreds of people were rescued from the flooding by local sheriff departments, firefighters, Florida Fish and Wildlife, Florida National Guard, and the Florida Forest Service. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-RvuNSeE2Rs Now it’s time to assess and repair - and there is help available from local, state, and national governments, as well as the Red Cross and several other organizations. Residents will group and help each other in the coastal areas. Look for Facebook groups that will Florida’s State Assistance Information Line: 1-800-342-3557 If you have a small business, please register at FloridaDisaster.biz and take the Business Damage Assessment Survey to help state and local leaders communicate the impact of Hurricane Idalia on our area when reaching out for federal assistance. Please note that this does not apply for assistance. That is another step. Things are Moving Forward Already Pat Manfredo captured this relaxing sunset outside her Land O'Lakes home Wednesday night. Once the tide receded, the coastal residents and businesses began cleanup. Meanwhile, those in the central and eastern parts of the Nature Coast are open for business. Restaurants are reopening, some with limited menus. We went out for pizza at Angelo's Pizzeria in Inverness last night, although the pizzeria's phones weren't working, their food and service were a welcome treat. If you're in Brooksville, Chop Block stayed open regular hours Tuesday, opened for dinner on Wednesday, and is open for both lunch and dinner Thursday, returning to regular hours and days. In New Port Richey, the White Heron is offering a relaxing pot of tea and some delicious scones in their tea parlor, or a light lunch and Happy Hour, which includes cucumber and chicken salad sandwiches without the reservations that are usually required. Masaryk Winery is open for brunch this weekend. New Port Richey police and firefighters rescued residents from Hurricane Idalia. Image from their Facebook page. Government offices have reopened. All Pasco County Parks, Recreation, and Natural Resources reported that all of their recreational complexes are back open, as well as the Heritage Park Community Center, Wiregrass Ranch Sports Campus, and James Irvin Civic Center. Withlacochee River Park, Crews Lake Park, Moon Lake Park, Middle Lake Park, Peterson Park, and Lake Lisa Park are open. Anclote Gulf Park, portions of Starkey Wilderness Park, and the Coastal Anclote Trail will reopen at noon today, August 31st. As tired as we may all be, let's keep on moving forward and taking care of each other. NatureCoaster will continue to cover public information to help you get back to your routines. Read the full article

[jeannereames]

Happy Birthday to the real Amyntor: Ed Reames

9/11 is a day of mourning in the US. But for me, 9/11 means my father’s birthday. And with Dancing with the Lion: Rise coming out next month--which is dedicated to my father’s memory--I decided I’d post here the tribute to my father that I wrote shortly after his death in February of 2017. My father (and mother) provided the model for Amyntor in the novel. So if you’d like to meet the “real” Amyntor, here he is.

Calvin Edward Reames, c. 1944

As some of you are already aware, my father’s health—physical and mental—has been failing, especially since autumn. In late January, he caught pneumonia and was admitted to the hospital. He never regained conscious awareness and was placed on palliative care. At 3:15pm, Eastern time, February 10, 2017, he died, almost exactly 92 years and 5 months since he entered this world.

Social media has become the communication currency of our time, and supposedly nothing on the Internet ever really disappears. Ergo I want to tell you about my father so HE won’t disappear. This is my own reflection.  No one’s life can be understood by any single individual in it. We’re too multifaceted. The father I knew wasn't even the father my brother knew, as we were born almost 18 years apart--he at the beginning of the Baby Boom and me at the tail end. Yet my father raised a writer for a daughter, so I feel the need to eulogize him as I knew him. Others will have other stories, more or less flattering.

Born on the now-infamous date of 9/11, 1924, in Gorham, Jackson County, (Southern) Illinois, he survived the Tri-State Tornado at only 6 months of age. With him in her arms, his mother ran for the railroad tracks and got on the opposite side from the mile-wide monster bearing down on them, then laid her own body over his; the tornado leapt the tracks and spared them. Perhaps that was an omen for a charmed life. On the face of if, his life might not seem particularly charmed, but he survived the Depression, a world war, and mostly made good on the American Dream. He even lived long enough to see his Cubbies win the World Series.

Iva Mae Gregersen Reames & Daddy, 1925

The eldest of 13 children, he grew up in a family who were poor even by Depression-era standards.  It made him generous, occasionally foolishly so. Yet if he decided someone was “his” (family or friend), he saw it as his obligation to help. That conviction stemmed less from abstract ethics than from an innate kindness arising out of his recall of what it meant to be in need. Sometimes people say, “Well, I managed …” and expect others to suffer as they had.  Daddy could do that, too, but mostly he didn't.  If he could prevent someone from suffering, that made him happy.  He just wanted a “Thank you.” When he was in the war, he sent virtually his whole paycheque home to his mother each month to help care for his younger brothers and sisters. He kept $5.  Yes, $5 went much further then, but as an unmarried corporal in the US army, he made about $65 dollars monthly in 1944.  So he kept 1/13th of his income and gave away the rest.

US Army Corporal, 126th AAA Battalion, 1943

That, perhaps better than anything, exemplifies his fundamental nature. It’s in our actions and choices that, I believe, we reveal our true selves.

He liked to laugh, and kid, but never cruelly. For some families, a disparaging jest is meant as back-handed affection, but that wasn’t heard in the house in which I grew up. When I was younger, I was frequently teased because I walked right into comments with potential double meanings. Perhaps one of the values of getting old(er) is that I’ve aged out of being an easy target. Yet I never learned to hear what others said as an opportunity for ribbing because my parents didn’t find that sort of thing funny. My father's sense of humor was devoid of sarcasm, as he thought it mean-spirited. Some of that owed to his own mother, who—to hear him talk about her—should have been beatified immediately upon her death. But I also believe it owed to having lived through real struggle himself.

To his mind, the world is mean enough. He saw no need to make it meaner via our interactions with people about whom we should care. It's partly for that reason, and a basic aversion to drama, that he was a much-desired member of the pastor-parish relations committee at our church in Lakeland, Florida. His presence tended to tamp down exaggerated crises and occasional bouts of flailing (which is actually a bit funny, given his own tendency to worry).

My father had a will of iron, and a quiet ambition easily overlooked. For instance, when he decided to stop smoking, back before I was born, he’d just received a new carton of cigarettes for Christmas. He threw them in the trash and quit cold turkey because he’d decided he was done. He took up a pipe later (I think largely for image), but decided he didn’t want to do that, either, and just put down the pipe one day. That was it.

"The Lineman," Normal Rockwell

When Daddy decided to do something, he did it. “Failure is not an option”: Apollo 13’s motto. Well, the men (and women) who got Apollo 13 home are my father’s generation. When he returned from the war, he was one of millions looking for a job. He tried on several, but finally decided to work for the telephone company because communications seemed like the future. Before the war, he’d wanted to be a pharmacist, yet circumstance had curtailed the college degree required. So he began showing up regularly in the hiring offices of General Telephone Electric (GTE), asking for work. He made himself annoying. But squeaky wheel gets the grease, and finally they sent him north as a telephone lineman … in January … during a blizzard. He was a relatively little guy (wiry, but short), and they doubted he’d last 2 days. They figured it was a good way to get rid of his terrier persistence.

Daddy on right, GTE employee award

He persisted for 40+ years, and retired as a (self-taught) senior engineer in the mid-1980s. Never tell a Reames, "You can’t do that."

The guys who’d worked under him at the end liked him so much, they kept coming to visit him for years after. He had that effect on people, whether at work, at church, or as a ham radio operator ("This is K9RWP calling..."). They sensed he truly cared about them, and responded in kind. He wasn’t a boisterous or especially outgoing person, but he was still an extrovert. He’d strike up conversations with random strangers in lines at store check-outs.

Especially if there was a baby involved.

Daddy & his great-granddaughter, Leila

See, Daddy loved babies.  And babies loved Daddy. Maybe as a result of being the eldest of 13, but he could burp them, change a diaper pronto, or make them laugh. He so enjoyed watching little kids, especially as he aged; he’d break into a grin just to see them playing at a distance. He was never among the “Children should be seen and not heard” crowd. To his mind, children should be talked to and played with. They would inherit the earth. When my son was born just a few months after my mother's death, Daddy said, “He’s my little replacement.” At the time, I worried his words were fatalistic. But he went on to survive my mother by almost 20 years, and now, I see his words as an expression of continuity. We are our ancestors.

Daddy, Grandson Ian & Licorice as a kitten

So my son, Ian, is his replacement, in the larger sense. When we look forward, we also look back to where we came from. I tried to insure that Ian got to know his Grandpa, who was there just days after he came home from the hospital after birth, and was there when he graduated from high school, even paid his first bill for books at college. Because that’s who Daddy was. If he didn’t get to attend college himself, he made sure both his kids did, and his grandkids. For him, that was an achievement.

As I said…the success of others, especially friends and family, seemed to Daddy the same as his own.

Yet his generosity and empathy extended beyond just people. Daddy was a cat magnet. We used to joke that if he sat down and there was a cat within 50 feet, pretty soon, that cat would be on his lap. He liked dogs, to be sure, but dogs (and horses) were my mother’s favorites. Daddy liked cats, and they liked him. Dogs are forgiving. They’ll stay with even an abusive owner; but cats leave. They don’t put up with crap. Daddy? Even semi-feral cats trusted him.

Daddy, me, Ian, and a completely random barn cat who decided to adopt him for the day at my aunt’s farm

So while he was raised in a time when animals were tools and food more than family members, and he certainly went hunting from a young age to help put food on the table, I think he, more than my mother, had a soft spot for animals. I remember in the ‘70s, he decided we were going to raise rabbits for food, and bought a pair of does. Well, it didn’t take long for yours truly to make pets not only of the does, but of the first litter of babies. All of them had to go to homes where they’d be pets, not dinner. And while I’d made the pronouncement, it didn’t take much to convince my father. Shooting a wild squirrel for the stew pot (especially when hungry) was one thing; killing the rabbits one fed regularly and took care of was another. So our venture in home-grown meat failed miserably (to, I’m sure, the rabbits’ collective relief). Yet it wasn’t just due to my agitating. I don’t think Daddy could have killed a one of them, even if I hadn’t protested. They had names, after all.

He wasn’t a saint. None of us are. The cliche applies: we're a mix of vices and virtues, like shadows against the backlight of the sun. Age softened some of his, while exacerbating others due to a failing filter. Among other things he did well, Daddy was a champion worrier. He worried about anything you can imagine (and then some). Perhaps that owed to growing up in such an unstable era as the Depression when it seemed anything could happen, but for instance, he would remind me constantly to hold onto handrails while going up and down stairs. It seems trivial, but he genuinely angsted over me falling at home and hurting myself when nobody might find me for days. So I (mostly) hold onto rails, because I hear his voice in my head, telling me to.

The irony, of course, is that he was in much more danger of falling, yet he didn't tend to worry about himself. Before he moved up to be near my brother, I tried to get him to buy one of those Life Alert systems. I even employed the ultimate weapon: his grandson (Ian), to beg.  He refused. He’d be fine, because he’s of that generation when all a man should need was himself, a gun, a good job, and a driver's license. And oh, boy, getting him to relinquish that driver's license as he went increasingly blind from macular degeneration was quite the battle, one my poor brother largely had to face when Daddy moved north to Kentucky in his last years. Daddy never did let go of the worrying, though.

He could be impatient, and critical, too, sometimes overly so. I never wanted to sing in front of him because he, like many of his siblings, had an excellent ear and I was, well, usually a little flat. He could hear it, and would say so. But the one he was most critical of was himself, if he failed to live up to his (very high) standards of what he thought he ought to do. Some of that, I lay at the feet of his own father, at least as my mother told it to me. Yet in contrast, as noted earlier, he delighted in the success of others. As a child and young woman I wanted to succeed not because I feared his critique (except about my singing), but because I basked in his happiness when I did well. He could be downright embarrassing in his bragging. If failure, especially his, was not an option, he didn't feel the need to build himself up by tearing down others. He was happy to share the spotlight, or even to applaud from the sidelines--and mean it. Again, maybe that owed to being one of 13, but I think it went deeper, back to his fundamental worldview: “You and me,” not, “Me or you.” He was quietly ambitious, but not especially competitive. Except at cards. Then all bets were off (sometimes literally).

Daddy with Mama, Christmas, c. 1990

One of his most outstanding virtues was his loyalty. For instance, he fell in love with my mother and stayed married to her for 51 years, then never remarried. While it might have been nice for him to remarry, I don't think it was in him; it would have felt like "replacing" her, and to his mind, she had no replacement.

After her death in 1997, I recall going through old pictures of her with him, one from just after the war, which showed them out with friends. Keep in mind that my mother, from childhood until after the birth of my brother, was…pudgy. While on the shorter side, my father was never heavy in his youth. In fact, he got quite buff during WWII: broad-chested and slim-waisted. But as we looked at that picture of my mother next to her friends, he pointed to her with tears in his eyes, and said, "She was the most beautiful of them all." Yup, the "pudgy" girl.

Idalee Brouillette, c. 1944, the picture my father carried during WWII

But he was right: Mama was a stunner. I know that, now, people say I look a lot like her, and I’m honored it’s so. But I was never as pretty as she was, especially in her youth, and I think my father felt bedazzled that this beautiful, black-haired Brouillette girl decided she was going to marry him, and that was the end of it. Her family was better off financially during the Depression, even with Indian blood; they had a farm with a full section, and a car, and enough money for my grandfather to send my mother and her sisters into town to go to school when he thought the teacher at the school on Buttermilk Hill was unqualified. So I suppose you could say Daddy "married up." But to Mama’s mind, she’d won the deal, getting the determined, smart guy.

See, long before they met in person, Mama had gone with her best friend Annie to Gorham High School for a day, visiting. In math class, the teacher put a problem on the board and asked the class to solve it. Only one student could: my father. He got up and wrote the solution on the blackboard, and Mama was enchanted. She asked Annie, “Who is that guy!?”

Some years later, she married that guy.

March 8th, 1946, wedding picture

In many ways, my parents were quite different people. My mother was progressive in thought beyond her time, naturally empathic and perceptive, a bookworm introvert with a steel spine when she needed it and the amazing ability to keep 5+ people’s business in her head without forgetting anything. Everything I know about organization (and I’m pretty good at it), I learned from my mother. My father was conservative, protective, supportive, more intelligent (in sheer IQ), but less emotionally intelligent (EQ), more driven, but less philosophical. Yet they created a unique alchemy of spirit. They didn’t share common interests—Mama loved reading novels, Daddy never read fiction, Mama loved watching murder mysteries, Daddy preferred ball games or the news. Yet they looked out on the world in the same direction, and that’s what mattered.

Ed Reames in high school

In the end, what can I say but that Daddy was the epitome of the Greatest Generation. And now he’s gone. I won’t say we’ll never see their like again, because nobody knows the future. They weren’t perfect—racism was an institutionalized assumption enshrined in segregation, women barely had the vote, LGBTQ wasn’t even talked about—but we, in our current America, could take a page from those who survived abject poverty and economic collapse without government safety nets, then went on to save the world from fascism. They did it not by grand deeds, but by the simple heroism of young men and a few women storming a beach at Normandy or Iwo Jima, a lot of whom never came home. Daddy used to joke that he chased Hitler all over Europe but never caught him.

Daddy, you did catch him. You were part of the men and women who stopped him.

You are my hero.  You are the real Captain America.

I’m privileged and grateful to be your daughter, and I love you, forever.

[carruechedaily]

KARRUECHE TRAN: THE SUPER-HUMBLE, SUPER-TALENTED SUPERWOMAN

Karrueche Tran needs no introduction, considering she’s been a household name for those who are into celebrity gossip for nearly a decade. “Hi, it’s Karrueche” is the first thing she says when she calls me from her cell phone, quickly followed by an apology for being like, three minutes behind for our scheduled interview. Important note: In my phone-interview-with-celebrities experiences, 99% of the time their publicist is making the perpetually late call, lifelessly greeting me verbatim with “I have [insert celebrity here] on the line.” Annoyingly often the publicist will require that I submit questions in advance for approval, which I do. When I throw in non-approved questions during the actual chat, the celeb offers a nervous, meh-media-trained response—that is, if the publicist, who has been listening to our conversation in an intense manner on mute all along, doesn’t interrupt and shut that shit down. That is not at all the case with Los Angeles born-and-raised Karrueche Tran. Whew! She actually wanted to talk, and was enthusiastic, humble, and filter-fucking-free during our nearly 40-MINUTE conversation. The 30-year-old was just finishing up at a gym in New Orleans, where she’s currently filming season three of Claws. Tran acts opposite the perma-fantastic Niecy Nash in the psychotically amazing, women-led (both on and behind the camera) dramedy that’s been described as Steel Magnolias meets Breaking Bad. In short, Claws is about five fierce manicurists who work at a nail salon in Manatee County, Florida and find themselves laundering money from a strip mall pill clinic in hopes for a bigger, better life. Tran nails it (sorry, had to) as Virginia, an unapologetically-herself ex-stripper. Her scene-stealing one-liners are simply everything: Virginia’s response to “Does it always have to be about you?” is “Uh yes, girl. I’m a millennial.” Tran has been immaculately executing the okurrr as Virginia long before Cardi B trademarked the phrase, and her maximalist, millennial-pink-heavy, Cher Horowitz-rivaling numbers—which, in the forthcoming season, will include a bedazzled eye-patch as a, spoiler alert!, style choice due to Virginia taking a bullet in the season two finale—are unrivaled. Thrown involuntarily into the scrutinizing spotlight in her early twenties for reasons that we won’t entertain mentioning, the then-mysterious Tran could have used the frantic fascination around her for a career in reality television and Flat Tummy Tea-sponsored Instagram posts. But “As if!” to promoting the aforementioned laxative, which is clear to her 8+ million Instagram followers, where she’s very open about her body image struggles, self-acceptance, and self-love. Tran talked in detail with me about that and so much more, including her thoughts re: her wild journey, from those damn TMZ headlines to her breakout role on TNT. Forgive me, but the slogan from the early-2000s MTV program, Diary, came to my millennial mind after we said goodbye: “You think you know but you have no idea.” Below, Tran introduces the (very) real her—the girl who once worked at a boutique on Robertson Boulevard and who dreams of starring in a box office blockbuster. She’s definitely got what it takes, and I, like so many others, will forever root for (a.k.a. stan) this super-humble, super-talented superwoman. You’ve been very open about your body image struggles, self-acceptance, and self-love. When did you become comfortable with your body? “

It took me a long time to be comfortable with who I am. Especially with my previous relationships or just with men in general, I knew what they liked and I knew that I would never be that because I’m a small, petite person. I think curvy women are beautiful, and I would love to have that, but that’s not how I was created. It took awhile for me to realize This is how you were born. This is how God made you. If you want anything close to it, then you need to work for it in a natural way. That’s why I workout—I don’t workout to stay thin. I workout to stay fit and healthy, but to also build muscle.” So many women can relate, and I’m sure so many consider you a role model. “That’s why I try to be very vocal. There are a lot of girls out there who are having the same problems as me. They’re always told, ‘Oh, you’re so small. You’re so tiny. You’re so cute and little.’ It’s like, Shut the fuck up. I’m 30 years old and I can pass for a 15 year old, which is a blessing because I look young, but it’s like, I’m a grown woman and I want to be treated as such. For me, and for a lot of people, having a butt and boobs signifies being a woman. It is hard, but I’ve learned to work around it and accept who I am—and keep doing my squats!”

I just have to say, you’re perfect. I’m not being creepy—I’m gay! “

Heyyy!”

Heyyy! By the way, you and your boyfriend make such a cute couple.

“Thank you. He makes me feel very comfortable with who I am, which is great because it makes me feel more confident and reassured that he cares and loves me. It’s really great to have that support from him.”

You’ve been in the public eye for almost a decade, but 2017 was the year you had your breakout role as Virginia in TNT’s Claws. Was it difficult to make it in the acting world?

“My story is quite interesting. The way I was first introduced to the world was from my past relationship that was obviously very public—that’s how a lot of people knew of me and recognized me. I do remember one time very early on in my career when I first started going to auditions. The casting director was like, ‘What do I know you from? Your name sounds so familiar… Oh yeah! I’ve seen you on TMZ.’ At that time, there was still so much press I was dealing with. I was like, Oh lord, I can only imagine what this woman has seen or heard about or read about me, which may or may not be true. And I was like, Fuck, that’s not the best first impression—being the girl on TMZ that has this relationship drama or whatever the fuck it was at the time. “When I made the decision to be an actor, I wanted to be taken very seriously. I had a lot of opportunities to do reality television and make big money, but it just didn’t feel right. I really wanted to have some sort of longevity in a career. I didn’t wanna bullshit around just to make money—I believe in doing things that I actually stand for.”

Can you tell me more about your acting journey leading up to this breakout role in Claws?

“I had a very, very small role in a horror film. I had like one line and I was very nervous, but from there, I was intrigued. I worked hard and took a lot of group classes where I could break out of my shell and not be so embarrassed around other people. With acting, you have to be vulnerable. “Once I was in those classes, that’s when I booked Claws. In between that time, I had done a lot of different shows and low budget, independent films. But Claws was the biggest production. So I went right back into classes, because if I’m on a show with Niecy Nash, Carrie Preston, Jenn Lyon, Judy Reyes, Harold Perrineau…all of these amazing, experienced, well-known actors, I’m like, Look, I’m not gonna be looking like the new girl! [Laughs] Going into it, I made sure to study with my coach and just really focus. I’m 30; I don’t have time to fuck around and just figure things out. It’s pivotal for me to focus on something that I love and to just keep working at it and perfecting my craft.”

You’ve been famous since your early twenties, but I’ve never seen photos of you stumbling out of the club or anything wild. How have you dealt with “the fame?”

“It’s weird, because I just see myself as being Karrueche from LA. Before I was introduced to the world in a very public way, I had jobs, I was hustling, I was figuring my life out. This journey that I’ve gone on…sometimes I think about it and I’m still mind blown. I was once working at a boutique on Robertson and now I’m on a TV show. “But I try not to think about it too much and let it consume my mind. I never want to change who I am because I’m famous now. I don’t believe in that; I believe in being true to who I am and adjusting to this new life, but still being humble and genuine. I’m lucky to have a great family and I still have friends that I’ve known since middle school and high school. It’s a blessing. My friends and my family are my foundation.”

Let’s talk about fashion. You pumped down the catwalk for The Blonds’ New York Fashion Week show. How was that experience?

“It was a lot of fun. I was so nervous. I’ve always been intrigued by runway models because they’re just beautiful, tall, lean, confident, and strong, and I never thought I could ever model because they’re at least 5’9”. I’m 5’1”! I was like, Oh my God, I feel like a little shrimp right now! But it was a great experience; I had fun. I don’t know if I’d do it again because I was just so nervous and in my own head, but it was a great time and I love David and Phillipe [Blond]. I appreciate them having me be a part of their show.” Well, Lil’ Kim has to be shorter than you, and she strutted down the runway and shut it down! “Oh. My. God. Yeah, she was so dope and her energy! She came out and I was like, Oh shit!”

Now for some random questions. If you could spend a few months anywhere in the world, where would it be?

“If I could spend a few months in New York and work during the summertime, I would love that. For a year, I would love to live in Jamaica or Turks and Caicos or Belize. Somewhere very tropical. This is my retirement goal.”

That should have been the question! Where do you see yourself when you retire?

“Living somewhere very tropical, owning a jerk chicken shack where I’m cooking the food myself. And I’m super tan, smoking weed, and in a great mood. I’ve been to all these places and I was like, I see myself here. Everyone is so nice and the energy is so good. I could live there forever and be content.”

If you could wear only one designer for the rest of your life, who would you want it to be?

“Oh, shit…I would probably say anything that Virgil [Abloh] makes. He is so talented and he is dominating the world right now. Killing it. I would wear anything that man put on me.”

And if you could raid anyone’s closet and steal their shit, whose would it be?

“Do you know who Aleali May is? She can pull anything off and she’s just really dope. I would love to be able to wear all her clothes. And she’s also from LA!” How would you describe your personal style in a few words? “Crazy, sexy, cool petite panache.” And sorry, the question that everyone asks: Where do you wanna be in five years?

“In five years, I want to be on the beach. No, I’m just kidding! In five years…it’s kind of around the corner. Time flies.”

It sure as shit does.

“I would love to be continuing on this path of growth and success and self-love. Just taking care of myself. I’d also love to be in a couple of huge box office movies.”

I can totally see you playing a superhero.

“Oh my gosh! I don’t know what it freaking is, but you might be the 20th person that has said that recently. I would love to as well. That is the fucking dream role. I’m knocking on some wood right now that hopefully that comes true one day.” Karrueche wears dress by The Dolls House, headpiece from Century Girl Vintage, shoes by Manolo Blahnik

I can see it now. The new Storm and/or the new Catwoman…

“Oh, fuck yeah! Hopefully in a few years! [Laughs]”

Is there any actor you would die to work with?

“Halle Berry!”

Who has played both Catwoman and Storm…!

“Mm-hmm! That’s why I laughed when you said that. I see so much of my character Virginia with her character from the movie B*A*P*S.”

Speaking of Virginia, how did you prepare to play her? Where did you find your inspiration to bring her to life?

“Well, because Virginia came from the strip club, before we started shooting, I stayed in Atlanta for a week. They’re huge on their strip clubs! I went to the strip club daytime and nighttime and studied the girls, their movements, the way they looked at other strippers, the way they looked at customers, and the men that were there. I was trying to envision myself as one of them, which I think helped a lot for figuring out Virginia’s mindset.”

Virginia’s been through a lot, and the show doesn’t shy away from it, like when she chooses to have an abortion and must confront the pro-life protesters.

“A lot of shows would shy away from it or are too afraid to acknowledge that topic because it might be sensitive. But we’re bringing light to reality and to things a lot of women go through. It’s very empowering for us to relay a storyline that’s not always talked about that people can relate to and connect with. That’s why I love this show.”

[bountyofbeads]

8chan, Trump, voter suppression: how white supremacy went mainstream in the US

https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2019/aug/11/el-paso-shooting-white-supremacy-8chan-voter-suppression?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Post_to_Tumblr

"In many ways, the Republican party has been preparing for minority rule for years now. The anxiety that drove the shooter in El Paso, as well as every other white supremacist mass shooter in recent years, has motivated Republican politicians to steadily demonize and disenfranchise populations that don’t vote for them. The problem long predates Donald Trump, but he’s given taken both the mask and the leash off of it."

8chan, Trump, Voter Suppression: How White Supremacy Went Mainstream In The US

The same anxiety that drives white supremacists has motivated Republicans to disenfranchise populations that don’t vote for them

By Luke Darby | Published:02:00 Sun August 11, 2019 | The Guardian | Posted August 11, 2019 7:54 PM ET |

Before he opened fire on an El Paso, Texas shopping center, killing 22 people and injuring dozens more, the accused gunman, Patrick Crusius, allegedly posted a manifesto online explicitly stating his motivation: he was trying to stop a “Hispanic invasion of Texas”. In April, another shooter attacked a synagogue in Poway, California, killing one woman and wounding three other people. In his a “manifesto” attributed to him, he claimed he was responding to the “meticulously planned genocide of the European race”.

In Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, in October 2018, still another shooter attacked a synagogue that he chose deliberately because the congregation helped with refugee relocation. He wrote online that they were trying to “bring invaders in that kill our people”. The man who murdered 51 people at two mosques in Christchurch, New Zealand, earlier this year, called immigration an “assault on the European people”..

All of these shooters were obsessed with the “great replacement” conspiracy theory, sometimes referred to as “white genocide”. It’s the idea that shadowy elites – usually Jewish, almost always liberal – are orchestrating the destruction of white culture through demographic change. The theory goes that white culture will be eroded mainly through migration and birthrates: more people of color are arriving in majority white counties, the ones already there are having more and more babies, and birthrates are declining for the soon-to-be-oppressed white people.

But the fans of this theory, and the idea of a demographic threat to a white (male) hierarchical structure, are no longer the preserve of extremists that lurk in the netherworlds of the internet. White supremacy, and the ideas and motivations that drive it, are flourishing in plain sight in the US.

Most notoriously, Donald Trump has become a fan of “great replacement” talking points. In the last week many of the 2020 Democratic presidential candidates have called the president a white supremacist. But Trump is far from being alone, and in recent years the idea has caught fire among more and more mainstream Republicans. The looming threat of their losing political influence permeates every move the party has made for decades.

Anxiety about racial decline has a long past, but this specific modern version of it comes from the French writer Renaud Camus, who was known in the 80s as a pioneering gay novelist. He coined the phrase “great replacement” in a 2011 book of the same name, articulating the conspiratorial idea that black and brown migrants are invading Europe to destroy white culture.

It’s a weird path that takes the ideas of a race-obsessed French novelist into the Trump White House, but it has been helped along by Rupert Murdoch’s pugilistic network, Fox News. One of the network’s standout hosts, Tucker Carlson, is probably the most clear-cut example: in August 2018, he dedicated a segment of his show to a story about black gangs killing white farmers in South Africa and the government then seizing their land. It’s a widely shared rumor online, popular with white nationalists because it seemed like an example of a government literally committing white genocide, but there’s no evidence that it is true. Carlson ultimately retracted the story, but not before Trump tweeted that he was directing the secretary of state, Mike Pompeo, to investigate.

Even when Carlson’s show isn’t clearly cribbing notes from white nationalist forums, he’s promoting their ideas in slightly more coded ways. He has railed against diversity, asking rhetorically: “How exactly is diversity our strength?” In 2018 he complained about  demographic change in the US, saying: “This is more change than human beings are designed to digest,” and adding: “Our leaders are for diversity, just not where they live.” Andrew Anglin, who founded the neo-Nazi website the Daily Stormer, has called Carlson “literally our greatest ally”. After Carlson’s South Africa segment, Anglin said Tucker Carlson Tonight is “basically Daily Stormer: The Show.”

Experts in white supremacist thought largely agree that Trump is actively spreading the ideas that underpin this ideology. Christian Picciolini, US author of Memoirs of a Skinhead and former neo-Nazi who set up Life After Hate, a not-for-profit that aims to deradicalize extremists, said: “Donald Trump is using nearly identical language to what white supremacist movement language is, language that I used 30 years ago in lyrics and in promoting white supremacist ideology.”

Alexandra Minna Stern, professor on the history of eugenics and author of Proud Boys and the White Ethnostate: How the Alt-Right Is Warping the American Imagination, said: “The way I describe it is that President Trump has really set up a baseline for bigotry in political discourse in the United States that has helped create the terrain where this is more possible.”

And other frontline Republicans are following Trump’s lead. In 2017, the Iowa congressman and standard-bearer of the far right Steve King tweeted: “We can’t restore our civilization with somebody else’s babies.” In a 2018 interview with an extreme rightwing propaganda site in Austria, King proved he was fluent in white nationalist tropes, saying: “If we don’t defend western civilization, then we will become subjugated by the people who are the enemies of faith, the enemies of justice.”

The rise of white supremacy is being driven in part by demographic change – although racism has flourished in the US long before whites were in sight of losing their position as the majority. The US census predicts that by 2050 white people will no longer be the majority in the country. A Census Bureau report from 2015 predicted that by the time the 2020 census is conducted, more than half of American school children will be non-white, meaning that “majority minority” future will be baked in unless something drastic changes it.

White people will still be the the largest demographic, they will no longer be in a majority. According to a study by the Pew Research Center, the number of white adults who believe “a majority non-white population will weaken American culture” is 46%.

Things look even worse if you are a Republican politician. Decades of playing to white grievances plus years of relentlessly maligning the first black president have stymied their ability to win support from non-white voters. After 2012, when Mitt Romney failed to even come close to unseating then president Barack Obama, the Republican National Committee commissioned a so-called “autopsy report” that predicted doom if the party couldn’t right itself: “America is changing demographically, and unless Republicans are able to grow our appeal the way GOP governors have done, the changes tilt the playing field even more in the Democratic direction. If we want ethnic minority voters to support Republicans, we have to engage them and show our sincerity.”

That hasn’t happened. Instead of trying to peel off voters who typical side with Democrats – women, minorities, moderates – Republicans have aggressively focused on making sure people who aren’t likely to vote for them don’t vote at all. In the US voter suppression – the act of denying the vote to minority and poor communities who are likely to be Democratic supporters – is thriving. In the last decade, 33 million people have been purged from voter rolls across the country – predominantly in districts with large percentages of non-white voters. In 2013, the supreme court gutted the Voting Rights Act. The state of North Carolina passed voter suppression laws so flagrant that the federal court said they targeted black voters with “almost surgical precision”.

Last year voters in Florida overwhelmingly chose to re-enfranchise 1.5 million people with felony convictions; after the vote the state legislature chose to add a requirement that none of those ex-felons can vote until they repay all court fees, effectively bringing back the poll tax which restricted voting among minority groups for decades.

Carole Anderson, academic and author of last year’s One Person, No Vote and a leading figure in the fight against voter suppression, wrote in the Guardian last week about the 33 million Americans purged from the voting rolls. “To put this in perspective, that is the equivalent of the combined  populations of New York City, Los Angeles, Chicago, Houston, Philadelphia, San Antonio, San Diego, Phoenix and Dallas, as well as the states of Wyoming, South Dakota, Nebraska, Iowa and Idaho. Not surprisingly, these massive removals are concentrated in precincts that tend to have higher minority populations and vote Democratic. Similarly, other voter suppression techniques, such as poll closures, deliberate long lines on election day, voter ID laws and extreme partisan gerrymandering all weigh disproportionately on minorities and urban areas.”

Elections are not won by a majority of people. They never have been from the beginning of our country, and they are not now

Paul Weyrich

Voter suppression isn’t necessarily a new tactic. In a 1980 speech to fellow conservatives, Paul Weyrich, one of the men who helped found arch-conservative institutions such as the American Legislative Exchange Council (Alec), the Moral Majority and the Heritage Foundation, said: “I don’t want everybody to vote. Elections are not won by a majority of people. They never have been from the beginning of our country, and they are not now. As a matter of fact, our leverage in the elections quite candidly goes up as the voting populace goes down.”

What has changed is the demographic projections. And if Republicans can’t compete in the new electoral landscape, then it is in their best interest to freeze the official electorate in place. One way to achieve this is partisan gerrymandering, redrawing voting districts so that they’re easier for Republicans to win. Incredibly, the supreme court in June ruled that federal courts were powerless to hear challenges to partisan gerrymandering – even in a case in which the party that controls the state legislature draws voting maps to explicitly elect its candidates.

In an excoriating dissenting opinion, Justice Elena Kagan and the supreme court’s liberal justices accused the court’s majority of shirking its constitutional duty. “The partisan gerrymanders in these cases deprived citizens of the most fundamental of their constitutional rights: the rights to participate equally in the political process, to join with others to advance political beliefs and to choose their political representatives.

“The partisan gerrymanders here debased and dishonored our democracy, turning upside-down the core American idea that all governmental power derives from the people. If left unchecked, gerrymanders like the ones here may irreparably damage our system of government.

Of all times to abandon the court’s duty to declare the law, this was not the one.”

Even in terms of raw numbers, the Republicans are at a disadvantage. There are 12 million more registered Democrats than Republicans in the US, but Republican control of the federal government is almost absolute. In part, that’s because institutions such as the electoral college and the Senate itself are wildly undemocratic, in the sense that both are structured so that one party can claim victory without actually receiving the most votes. In 2016, Democratic senators won 6m more votes than Republican ones, yet Republicans firmly held their majority.

The Senate distributes two seats a state, meaning that states with large multiracial populations and more Democratic voters (California, Texas, New York) get exactly the same representation as those populated by older – and often Republican – white people. As Jamelle Bouie noted in the New York Times: “Today, the largest state is California, with nearly 40 million residents, and the smallest is Wyoming, with just under 600,000 people, a disparity that gives a person in Wyoming 67 times the voting power of one in California.

“As it stands now, the Senate is highly undemocratic and strikingly unrepresentative, with an affluent membership composed mostly of white men, who are about 30% of the population but hold 71 of the seats. Under current demographic trends this will get worse, as whites become a plurality of all Americans but remain a majority in most states.”

And while elected officials can at least – in theory, and with ever-greater difficulty – be voted out of office, that is not the case for the justices on the supreme court who wield extraordinary power, as the recent partisan gerrymandering case reveals. Trump has so far appointed two supreme court justices.

Law professor Ian Samuel explained, in relation to Neil Gorsuch’s confirmation – Trump’s first appointment – that it was the first time “a president who lost the popular vote had a supreme court nominee confirmed by senators who received fewer votes – nearly 22m fewer – than the senators that voted against him”.

For his second pick, Brett Kavanaugh, Trump’s choice to replace the moderate Anthony Kennedy, the senators who voted against him represented 38 million more people than the ones who voted to confirm.

In many ways, the Republican party has been preparing for minority rule for years now. The anxiety that drove the shooter in El Paso, as well as every other white supremacist mass shooter in recent years, has motivated Republican politicians to steadily demonize and disenfranchise populations that don’t vote for them. The problem long predates Donald Trump, but he’s given taken both the mask and the leash off of it.