#r&r (ranting and raving)

[gemmasdeadwife]

Eradicate black-and-white binary thinking from your essence!!

It’s not “the innies and outies are completely separate people OR they’re exactly the same people.” It’s not “Mark loves Gemma OR Mark loves Helly/na.” It’s not “Ricken is a misguided but sweet and well-meaning doofus OR Ricken is a selfish prick with no self-awareness who’s sold out to Lumon.” It’s not “Milchick fully embraces the rebellion right now, OR he’s fully sold his soul to the company store and there’s no coming back.” It’s not “Cobel’s programming means will always jump at a chance to gain favor in the eyes of Lumon regardless of the cost, OR she fucking despises Lumon for what they’ve done to her and she’s going to take them down at any cost.”

It’s always going to be AND!! It’s always going to be something in between, and complex, and nuanced, and layered. That in-between uncertainty, to me, is the real meat of the show. Why not dig into it?

[doostyaudi]

I wish the madness combat Fandom was as nice to be in on any other social media, it's nice here, but nowhere else is

[rollercoasterwords]

like. i still wouldn't want someone to copy and paste my fics into a large language model like chatgpt but it's not so much bc i'm worried abt my work being stolen (seems unlikely that an LLM would spit back out my exact words considering how it works, and even if it did, i doubt any individual would be able to like. publish and profit from those words, based on the nebulous status of copyright law when it comes to LLMs like chatgpt. and having my words fed into the LLM really isn't going to make much of a difference when it comes to corporations profiting off the tool in the first place; plus in instances of corporate exploitation i think there are more effective ways to organize than like...arguing for strengthened ip laws or trying to like make ip laws for fanfiction spaces). it's more because i'm wary of what that says about how a person is like...approaching my fic specifically + fanfiction more broadly. in two main ways:

1. i think it is just. basic respect to check with a writer before u take their work off ao3(or whatever fanfic-specific place it's been shared) and put it somewhere else. and like, this applies to lots of things outside chatgpt--reposting fics to other sites, posting them on goodreads/storygraph, printing + binding fics, etc. if u are treating fanfic writers as people who u are in community with, who are generously sharing a gift with u, then it seems like basic kindness to check in and see if they're alright with u taking that fic outside the space it was posted to do something else with it.

with chatgpt and similar LLMs specifically, a lot of people are wary because there's still so much unsettled in regards to how copyright laws might shake out, and most people (myself included) are unsure of how/whether our writing/data might be stored and used by these corporations that own the LLMs. i don't think ai itself is something that should be mythologized as like ontologically evil technology, but anytime a corporation is introducing us to new tech like this we need to be wary of where it's coming from and how it could be used--people have already pointed out a lot of very serious issues with the way this technology is being developed and how it could/likely will be/already is being used exploitatively--which, again, is more a matter of organizing against corporations than railing against ai tech itself, but is still a valid reason for writers (again, myself included) to be wary of having their work fed to LLMs without permission.

and like. sure, u don't have to care abt writers' feelings + boundaries and can just take their stories and do whatever u want with them. but to me that says u aren't treating fanfic as a community space, but rather a content farm in which fics are products that u are entitled to do whatever u want with. and i just think that's shitty! and if that's how ur treating fanfic then i'd rather not have u reading my fic at all

2. i honestly think it's a strange way to engage w storytelling by treating endings this way. like. story endings are usually v important + intentional, and can completely change the entire tone, themes, messages, etc of a story. i understand going to the writer and asking them abt what they had in mind for the story ending if ur looking for closure, and i understand imagining ur own story ending or even writing ur own ending to an unfinished story. what i don't understand is plugging a story into chatgpt and having it spit an ending out for u.

and like. maybe this is bc we've all been calling these LLMs ai, which evokes an impression of like. a sentient robot creating something. but that's not what these programs do! the first article i linked explains how they actually work really well, but essentially--chatgpt and similar LLMs cannot create new ideas. they can't take a story and synthesize its themes or pick apart its tone to then come up with an original idea for an ending. at the same time, they aren't just plagiarism machines that are ripping text directly from other writers and spitting it back out.

instead (to my understanding), what they're doing is compressing vast amounts of information by running statisical analyses to just save the most common trends, patterns, recurring info, etc, and then plugging that in to fill the gaps. it looks like it's writing something new, but it's essentially just paraphrasing already-existing information pulled from the internet. so i'd imagine that if u fed an ai a fic and said "write an ending," the ai would basically compare the fic to whatever similar stories it has saved and then spit out an ending that is most commonly found on the internet for that type of story. [not an expert here tho--this is just my best guess based on the bit of research i've done].

my point is--you won't be getting a new ending inspired directly by the story u put in. you'll be getting a paraphrased version of the most commonly recurring type of ending for similar stories on the web. and i just....don't see how that would be satisfying in any way. it seems, again, like a way in which someone would be approaching fic like a product, something that needs to be finished + complete bc ur entitled to it, rather than viewing fic as a piece of art with its own unique themes, message, and story that can't just be plugged into a one-size-fits-most ending generator. and like, i'm trying to avoid mysticizing writing as some sort of ethereal art form that would be blasphemously degraded by having someone plug in a shitty ending paraphrased from a conglomeration of various similar stories--i don't think someone creating a shitty ending for a story is like. a horrible evil thing. but i can understand where the satisfaction is coming from if you're writing your own shitty ending, where you get to come up with where u think the story would go + where u get to synthesize the themes u picked up on etc. but ai isn't even doing that--so again, i don't understand where the satisfaction is coming from aside from just going "well every story i read needs to be finished," which. makes me wary bc it just feels like a completely different way to approach stories and storytelling than i would hope to find in fanfic spaces, one that treats fic less as a creative place to explore and more as a transactional space where u are entitled to products.

anyway. feel like my thoughts + feelings abt ai keep changing the more i learn abt it + i'm sure they could change again, but rn my impression of this whole situation is like. i find the fact that some people are plugging fics into LLMs less concerning re: ip + ownership rights, and i don't think it's useful to exaggerate or mythologize abt what ai actually does (i think even calling it ai has kind of misled a lot of people, myself included). what concerns me more is that plugging fics into LLMs to write endings feels symptomatic of a broader culture in which people treat fanfic as an informal profit economy in which fics are product or content that a consumer-audience is entitled to, and i think that sort of approach leads to a whole plethora of other issues + makes fandom a more hostile space.

[theravequeen]

[badolmen]

Okay. Building a neocities website is. Admittedly. Addictive in the best way possible.

[vampirefreakzdotcom]

went on a first date today and saw my last date ACROSS THE STREET AND SHE YELLS "HEY ZAN"

[mousemannation]

all of u who like my untagged/nonsense posts i am sending u flowers in the mail

[gemmasdeadwife]

To be fair, in this show, this fiery type of color palette is often used to convey warmth and love. So like she looks scary as hell, but maybe she really will come through? Off the top of my head, I can only think of a few counter examples: Ricken’s dumb dinnerless dinner party, the severed cabin in season one, the weird restaurant encounter with Helena, and Sissy Cobel’s fire. If I try to think of what these instances have in common, the theme of some form of deception/pretense occurs to me. I reeeeeally hope that doesn’t pan out that way with Harmony… I want better for her

yeah i trust her. she's framed really normal and trustworthy here. don't worry about it

[gemmasdeadwife]

I know I’ve said I hate shipping culture for Severance and I DO. However I love how people are picturing Devon with literally any and EVERY other lady in the show. That is hilarious and based, carry on

[doostyaudi]

If i hear someone call rnaudi a femboy one more time im actually going to kill someone

[theravequeen]

[gemmasdeadwife]

Rbing this again firstly to add my own tags bc fuck it we ball

But more importantly

lmao PLEASE. Your mind!!!!

I think the people theorizing that Helly was Helena at any given point during the past 2 episodes aren't necessarily correct but they are hooking into something entirely intentional. It's supposed to be a bit ambiguous and eliciit suspicion because her two identities are starting to overlap and bleed and merge. "I'm her" packs such a punch because not only is Helly lamenting the impossibility of ever having a normal life with Mark, she's also acknowledging she's tied to Helena in a way that is slowly starting to become indistinguishable from herself.

Mark couldn't tell them apart, Dylan couldn't tell them apart, Irving could only tell them apart because Helena slipped up. Despite all of her initial resistance (I'm not her, Mark. I'm me. Helly.) she concedes after realizing she cannot escape her heritage. Even on the severed floor, ironically the only place she could ever be free, her father shows up to repeat the cycle of abuse. How many times will she have to be severed and tortured from Helly into Helena before the cycle can end? This is the first time she ever gets a true glimpse into her outie's life and she realizes, at least on a subconscious level, that they are both trapped in every reality.

[zukomysweetbabyboy]

just saw a post that was like “atla wrote one of the most complex sibling dynamics ever (katara and sokka) and for some reason people point to zuko and azula like they’re not just having normal sibling interactions” and look. i am ranting and raving about my water tribe babies on the DAILY, i Love them & i love analyzing them, their dynamic is like a chew toy to me, they’re beautiful and tragic and sweet and deserve all the attention in the world. BUT to call the fire nation royal children NORMAL sibling interactions— what da hell was your childhood like? n o r m a l??? nOrMaL???

[hanasnx]

baby daddy jason for when the one parent-teacher conference the sweet unassuming teachers like “mrs. Todd” and you’re “uhhh we’re not married”, but Jason, despite not being up to the commitment, likes the idea. He definitely would not correct the teacher like you immediately would.

Actually idk where I was going with this I had an idea but then it kinda stopped soz

MINORS DNI 18+

You’re not even sure how it happened. In your opinion, it’s best that BABY DADDY!JASON TODD stay far away from you and your daughter. Maybe he sifted through your mail the last time he snuck in, maybe he intercepted your calls, maybe he followed her to school to add himself to her emergency contacts—all completely feasible when dealing with someone so meticulously thorough and annoyingly committed. You’re face to face with him outside your daughter’s teacher’s door.

“What are you doing here?” you seethe in a whisper, avoiding a scene.

Jason’s face twists in feigned confusion, pointing to the flyer on the wall. He reads out its words as his finger follows along, “‘Parent teacher conference.’” He points to himself finally. “Parent.” A smug curl forms on his lips, standing tall in outsmarting you even though it’s not what you asked.

Your nostrils flare as you suck in a breath. Unfortunately, Jason is exceptional at getting on your nerves. You wonder how he managed knocking you up. Advancing on him, he mirrors you, meeting you in the middle as you engage him, “Jason, I don’t want you here—“

The door swings open, and you jump in place, leaning away abruptly. Jason coolly inclines back, shoving his hands in his pockets, he’s got nothing to hide. Your daughter’s teacher greets you both with a cheerful grin, beckoning you in. “You made it! Come on in, come on in.” You exchange a warning glance with Jason, but you clutch your purse strap and duck in while he trails leisurely after.

The meeting goes well, the teacher rants and raves about your daughter, especially about her art skills, showcasing that talent with pictures of it. You open your mouth to speak, but Jason beats you to it, “Takes after her mother, huh? What do you know?” he says with pride, and you witness a genuine grin on his lips as he leans forward to take a closer look at the mess of glitter and stickers in the teacher’s hands.

Your heart skips a beat, and you fiddle with your hands in your lap. One reason you try to stay away from Jason is because of times like these. Makes you second guess your decision to end things with him, and that’s exactly what’s most dangerous.

“So, Mrs. Todd—“ the teacher’s voice breaks you from your stupor, gaze snapping up to her as you furrow your brows.

“Oh, we’re not married.” you object, interrupting her starkly, and she flushes, setting the artwork down with a nervous smile.

“Oh! My mistake. You two just seem so close…”

Jason sighs, raising an arm to wrap around the back of your chair. “Well, not yet.” he says with certainty, and you turn your attention to him, glancing at his arm placement and how the sleeve of his biker jacket brushes your hair. His hand cups your shoulder, which you stare at, and glare when he starts stroking your skin with his thumb. What makes you the most angry is not the entitlement to touch you—which he’s always had—but how he’s clearly messing with you on purpose. This is just like his brand of cruelty, embarrassing you further in a social situation. You tune out whatever crap he’s telling the teacher about the fake wedding and you peel his arm away from you, shoving it back into his lap.

“No, that’s not happening.” you object again, harsher this time and Jason merely scoffs through his nose as you deal with the poor confused teacher.

After the meeting, you’re practically corralled out of that room bickering. You somehow end up on the back of his bike instead of in the car you drove here. Somehow, further, letting him inside your place. Shouting over each other about how inconsiderate he is, and how serious you are, curtly removing your outerwear.

“Would it really be that bad?” he yells, that loud voice that gets you weak in the knees booming through your apartment. You’re lucky your babysitter still has your daughter. “Being married to me, would it really be that bad?”

“It’s not about that, Jason! You know that!”

Your objections are drowned out in how his big body herds you into your bedroom, how his hands push you down to rip off your jeans. How he palms your mouth to shut you up while he’s kissing on your neck, clumsily searching for the give in between your legs. His tip eases in as you lazily bat at his hefty shoulders and thick biceps. “Don’t wanna be Mrs. Todd, huh?” You relax under him the longer he’s inside you, rutting into you with patience as you jerk your head away from him. “What’s wrong with that? Don’t want my name? Don’t wanna be a happy little family?”

Your fist bangs against his rotator cuff and he laughs, husky and light in your ear. His teeth latch onto your lobe, playfully tugging on it while he bottoms out, and you emit a noise from your throat.

“Mrs. Todd,” he chides, “So wet for your husband. S’almost like you want it.”

[angelicsjn]

Hi can I request your oc reactions to their gf cheating on them? If you're not comfy with writing cheating then they think you cheated on them but it was an old pic/video

YOUR SEVEN YANDERES.

A N: I won't write cheating, but I will write that there is a miscommunication in it.

A B O U T: They think you cheated, you didn't.

W A R N I N G S: Verbal abuse, of course. Anger and angst.

— ROMAN BEAUREGARD.

Roman is cool and collected. When you come back he's at the table, waiting.

You feel the air around him, and it's cold as he looks at you in scrutiny.

"Is it true?" He asks, leaving you complaining lost. What does that mean?

He shows you his phone, a photo posted on an F1 wag account, and you kissing your ex-boyfriend before you met him.

"Roman, that's my ex." You say, reassuringly. "It's an old photo."

He visibly relaxes before nodding, looking at you appreciatively before calling his manager up, requesting to have to rumour flattened and the photos removed.

He doesn't want to see your ex all over you. You're his now and will be forever.

— LATEN REED.

Laten bangs at your door, and when you open it, he's wild with rage. It's the first time that you've seen him so... serious.

"Who the fuck is it?" He spits your way, even though he wouldnt even think of laying a hand on you, he would to them.

He was out for blood.

"W-who?" You ask, confused and shocked. Also, slightly scared.

"That bastard my friends saw you with today?" He growls, the vein in his neck about to pop.

You begin laughing.

"Laten. That's my childhood friend. He's gay." You laugh even more as he freezes.

"Oh." He mutters. "I thought you were cheating..."

His green eyes look sad now, and as you pull him into a hug, he feels better. All anger is washed away as he stuffs his face into your neck.

— JAE 'NIKO' LEE.

Dear God. He's throwing stuff around. Screaming. Ranting. Raving.

"I could ruin my reputation because of you." - "after everything that we've been through." - "you've fucked me over, you're a waste of fucking time."

He goes off.

He storms out and leaves you to clean everything up. He's gone for days.

He only sees that it's all a lie when he finds out that toxic fans created lies to break you up, only then does he back with his tail wagging between his legs like a sad puppy.

— KAIDAN WOLFE.

It's not even true, but his delusional all would believe it was fake even if it wasn't.

You could have fucked his best friend and he wouldn't believe it. Even with proof of it.

"It's okay, baby." He smiles. "I know it's all fake." And he asks them to remove it because it's all fake.

He might even make a story about to, trying to stop others from ruining your perfect and healthy relationship.

— HAYDEN WEST.

He damn near has a heart attack.

He loses his mind over it. Does he tell you, ask you? What if what he saw was real, wasn't just in his head? Is it best not to say so he doesn't get hurt?

Then he blurts it out a few days after, "I saw you with someone the other day... are you, like..."

"Cheating?" You ask with a laugh. He looks mortified as if you confirmed it.

"Come on, Hayden. You know I love you." You press a kiss against his lips before laughing, "he asked me to help him study, that's all. It's nothing."

He worries, still, after that. The guy is better than him in every way — maybe not academically... but still!

He plays sports, is good-looking, is popular, is funny, talented, and he's the whole package. Why wouldn't you like him.

What was his name again? Oh.. yeah. Laten Reed...

— JOSHUA WHITE.

Loyalty is a big thing for him. So he asks you straight up, sort of like Roman, really. Just more worried as his voice wobbles.

"Are you cheating?" He asks gently with a worrisome crease in his forehead.

He provides the 'proof' and hears you out.

You actually have a lovely conversation where he thanks you for being honest and for being able to communicate with him, and of course you're happy and relieved that he didn't blow up over it.

— BLAKE CROSS.

Blake sees red. Actually, no. Black. He full on loses his shit.

"Do you know who I fucking am, huh?" He seeths. His fists clench the collar of the guys shirt, and you attempt to pull him away.

"Fucking come near what's mine again and I'll fucking kill you, go it?" He pushes the guy against the wall, his head hitting off of it with a thud as Blake rips away his hands in anger.

Looking your way, he looks like a completely different person. His eyes, usually a warm brown, are now black, and his features are hardened in marble.

"Are you fucking that piece of shit?" His tone cuts into you as he backs you up against the wall. You see the lingering of betrayal in his eyes.

"No, no. Blake. He's doing a project with me." You shake your head and even though you're scared, you know that he wouldnt ever hurt you.

His eyes closes as he rips at his hair in frustration, "fuck! Are you telling the truth. Don't lie to me."

Suddenly, he looks as if he's about to burst into tears. You pull his hands from his hair and kiss his knuckles before nodding.

"Fuck," he whispers. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I dont want to lose you..." he shakes his head, his eyes brimming with emotion.

"Especially to some guy that smells of cheap aftershave and wears 100% polyester clothing, that's disgusting..." he laughs a little, attempting to brighten the mood — he meant it, though.

[fangirl-writes]

What Are We? (F-R-I-E-N-D-S Part 2)

John B. Routledge x Fem!Reader

Part One

Warning(s): swearing, angst

Notes: So I've been asked for a part two to this and I wasn't intending to do one, but I was struck with inspiration and since it's been asked I thought I'd might as well deliver. Don't expect a third part or a happy ending here, unfortunately folks.

Summary: In the never ending drama of John B. and Sarah Cameron, we've reached the cheating plot. Angry and heartbroken, John B. seeks out his old "friend" once again.

Getting cheated on sucks.

There was no other way to describe it. No matter how much John B. wanted to rant and rave and scream at the world for putting him in this situation, he truly had nothing to say.

So, he punched Topper. He punched him down until Kie’s dad and JJ pulled him off. And the asshole didn't even fight back.

So, he ran away. Storming off, away from Sarah. Away from the girl he thought loved him.

And, in a twisted, selfish act, he went where he always went when he was hurt.

Up that familiar driveway.

He knew it was stupid. But it was like there was a magnetic pull to her that activated whenever he was upset.

Like he was grasping for even a wisp of what he had before his dad left him. Of what it was like before the treasure hunt began.

He needed her.

He needed her care and understanding. He needed her to yell at him so he could yell back. He needed her to cry so he could remind himself that he was a fuck-up, too.

He circled around to the back of the house and faced the bricks that led up to her window.

The curtain was down, but the screen hadn't been popped back in.

A small bit of hope bubbled in him at the sight. If the screen wasn't back in, maybe that meant she was waiting for him.

John B. crawled right up to the window and tapped their secret rhythm on the glass.

He waited a minute, then two.

When there was still no response, he tried the window, surprised to find it unlocked, and slid it up.

He moved the curtain to the side and poked his head in to find the room dark and empty.

Where was she?

He climbed into the room, nonplussed by the breaking and entering, he was practically an expert at it by now.

"Y/N?" he whispered to the clearly empty room.

He leaned over and turned on the lamp at her bedside table, illuminating the room in a bright orange glow.

The familiar space popped into view, everything the same as it was when he was there last.

Same unmade bed they sat on, same pillows she threw at him...

He sunk onto the bed.

He had so many memories in that room. So many better memories, but now all he can think about it the tears in her eyes.

John B. took a deep breath, blinking back his own tears.

Was it karma? Did he deserve everything Sarah was doing because he'd been such an asshole to Y/N? Was this the heartbreak she felt when he left her?

The door creaked open, and his head snapped up, fearing it was one of her parents.

But it wasn't. It was Y/N.

...dressed really pretty.

She stood there with her arms crossed and a frown on her lips.

"You should really lock your window, some creep could crawl in through it."

She rolled her eyes. "What, you need someone to clean the blood off your hands?"

John B. flushed. "You know about that?"

"Well, I didn't expect you to notice, but I was there. Kiara's actually still my friend, you know."

He dropped his gaze to his hands, realizing that he did, in fact, have blood on his hands.

Y/N sighed, moving into the room, dropping her bag on her desk chair and grabbing a towel from her bathroom before sitting next to him.

"Here."

She held the damp towel out to him, and he took it, wiping his hands off.

"...you look beautiful."

"Don't. What are you doing here?" She snapped.

"I...I don't know," he said. "I just...need someone that understands."

A beat.

Then, “I’m sorry you got cheated on.”

John B. looked up at her.

She wouldn't meet his eyes, the anger still stewing in her, but she'd granted him some levity, considering the situation.

“I guess I sort of deserve it,” he replied. “After the way I treated you.”

Y/N shrugged. “Yeah, but, like, you almost died for her…multiple times. You’d have thought-“

“My dad’s alive.”

Her head snapped to look at him, eyes wide. “What? I thought Ward-“

“I did, too. Guess it didn’t stick.”

“What- John B. that’s amazing…isn’t it?”

He didn’t look like it was amazing. He looked like he was gonna be sick, actually.

“It was…it's supposed to be, but now he’s got me lying to my friends, and he got captured by some guys who’re taking him to South America-“

“South America?”

It was hard to remember that Y/N hadn't been there the whole time. That she couldn't just roll with whatever insane shit he was going through. She truly had no idea what he was talking about.

John B. sighed, pulling on his hair. “Can we just- forget it? For now?”

“Sure,” Y/N said. “So, I’ll ask again. What are you doing here, John B.?”

He raised his head and took a deep breath. “I just came where I always go when I’m hurt.”

She sighed. "Yeah, I guess you do. That's how it was before..."

Before he'd fucked their entire relationship.

John B. wondered if, had his dad never disappeared, they'd be dating right now.

Maybe. But he hadn't gotten his head out of his ass long enough to ask her before it all. And when he got a push, instead of running into her arms, he ran away.

"I didn't apologize for that, last time," John B. said. "I'm sorry I fucked up so badly."

"You really did," Y/N said. "I loved you, you know?"

"You won't believe me, but I loved you, too."

"What changed?"

It was a hard question. One he wasn't even sure he knew the answer to.

"I guess I did."

Y/N looked at her hands. "Did you just...outgrow me?"

That hurt, too. Something that should have been a crazy thought, something that never would have crossed his mind a year ago. Him and Y/N were forever.

Until they weren't.

"I...I guess I did."

John B. noticed her blinking back tears and felt his heart ache.

"Please don't cry," he whispered. "I'm not worth it."

"You don't know," she replied, strained. "You don't know how much I cried when you left. When I thought you died. As much as I hate you for ditching me, I still care about you. A lot."

It made him feel worse, again. She never cried, but she cried over him.

"I know I've been stupid. And selfish. And a horrible guy, but...do you think we can start over? Be friends?"

Y/N shook her head. "Come see me again when you've gotten over this Sarah thing and...we'll see, okay?"

It hurt, the rejection, but he understood.

"Is your phone number still the same?" he asked.

She gave him a confused look. "Yeah, why?"

"Can I call you? I think a late night phone chat is overdue."

She laughed through her nose and he smiled.

"Yeah. I guess that would be okay."

He had so many questions he wanted to ask her. To get to know her again. But now wasn't the time.

He was hurt, she was hurt.

It was gonna be a while before they could get back to how they were, if ever.

God, he'd fucked up so bad.

"You better go before my parents find you," she said.

John B. knew that wouldn't happen. In all the years he'd been sneaking through her window, they'd never as much as come upstairs, let alone come into her room to find him.

But it was her polite way of asking him to leave.

"Okay," he said, standing up, handing her the towel back. "Thanks for...letting me clean the blood off my hands."

"Hey, no problem."

He slid her window back up and threw a leg over the sill. "Seriously, though, lock this? There are freaks in this world."

She laughed again, out loud this time. "Your the only freak who's ever tried to climb in that window, trust me."

It gave him an odd sense of solace in that. Knowing he was the only one she'd snuck in.

It was another selfish thought. But that one he'd let himself have.

"Good night," he said, smiling softly at her.

"Good night, John B. Good luck with your dad."

Oh, shit. He'd actually almost forgotten about his dad. Which was horrible, but he just nodded and slipped out.

Now. How does one get to South America on short notice?