#the only thing THAT adds is that Bill is a liar which we all know

[videogamelover99]

I felt I should write this lol.

The point of an unreliable narrator is not to trick the audience. The point of an unreliable narrator is to communicate that this narrator cannot be trusted, and encourage the audience to examine the material with a critical eye. The point is to have a different view of events be obvious enough that the audience can start questioning what is said to them.

And also to show that everyone is biased in their perspective.

Anyway I don't think Alex Hirsch is dropping major lore into a book only to say "haha it was all a lie you fell for it!" like some kind of "it was all a dream" hack of an ending.

[mrs-monaghan]

Shaz. You know I hate a liar so be honest.

What is your take on Tae and the hate that Jimin gets from Tae's wannabe cute behavior?

Be honest, though. I'll know if you are lying.

Our acquaintanceship depends on this.

So please, do spill.

Who even drinks tea angrily?

I am always honest my love. Always. If I hated V I would pull a bangtanmediathoughts and would say exactly that. 1000% I don't pretend. I see no point. Nobody here knows me or who I am or where I live or what I do. And even if anyone did, I still make my own money and pay own bills. No one here helps me. So I have no reason to lie to you or anyone else. Even faceless anons. I am blunt and I am honest. So what I speak on this blog is the truth and honest to God truth.

So I will start with your first question. My take on V? Do you mean as a person? First of all, my first take is that he is a very handsome chap 😁

This actually contributes alot to me maintaining my love for him 🤭 Which yes, I love this motherfucker. I love all of them, honestly. Even as I'm having an issue with him right this second I still love him. And he has many reasons to be loved. He's handsome, like afore mentioned, he's effortlessly funny, (that thing he does where he makes a joke with a straight face, GOLD!! He is very unique, which I adore. And his consistent hairstyle suits him very well. That's my take on V.

Oh! Almost forgot. His hands. I love his handsssss. Cue hand porn break

Okay what do I feel about the hate Jimin gets as a result of V's behaviour? I hate it. Of course I hate it. There is not one Jimin lover who doesn't hate how the vermin shit on Jimin everytime V does something. It's horrible and terrible and Mimi doesn't deserve it.

But.

But, Madam Sky, my stand on this remains. If Jikook are okay with V, then so I'm I. The Tannies are not responsible for how psychotic fans decide to behave. They're really not. They should be able to do anything without worrying about how their fans will take it.

When we get ot7 content I'm always watching Jimin. Is he smiling at V? Is he joking with V? Did he just hug V? Is he including him? These kinds of things. I believe we would be able to tell if Jimin hated V. Which I think we can safely say he doesn't. (Bts are only human they can't hide animosity. Kind of like how people are picking up on something shady happening btwn rm and Suga. Too much going on y'all)

Add that to the fact that JK would never hurt Jimin especially on purpose, and its a no brainer innit? Unless of course Jimin is hiding how he really feels from JK in which case that would suck but we dk that that's the case. Plus we've gotta give JK credit where its due because that man doesn't like the Taekook narrative at all and he does something about that.

So yeah. I'm cool with V. I don't like what he's doing but it is what it is...

[callipraxia]

(Mostly replying to the tags on OP)

The letter Wendy gives Dipper does strongly imply they plan to be in town again by summer 2013, so there is some canonicity to the notion that boatventures aren't meant to be a full-time, rest-of-their-lives, never-going-back enterprise. Plus, all the reasons you mention - I particularly imagine Stan might miss the town itself more than he expects to, because really, GF was the first real home he ever had after his parents kicked him out. For the previous ten years, he'd never been able to stay in one place besides a prison for very long, and we know that Stan is a) a man very attached to his comforts and b) very, very sentimental. He even sounds more fond when reminiscing about his childhood than not, even though it's hinted everything was always a lot less happy than he likes to pretend it was forty years later.

I think he also bases his self-esteem (such as it is) on the combination of defining an in-group that matters to him, then trying to get said in-group to approve of him....and while Ford was apparently basically enough of an in-group to work for him when he was a kid, it's been forty years since those days. In the meantime, his circle has expanded - man's had a borderline worshiper (in the form of Soos) for the last ten years before he got Ford back, for goodness' sake - and he was downright elated about how "the whole town loves us now!" after the events of "Gideon Rises." The Shack itself was also an accomplishment that was entirely his own, something he could only be said to have ridden Ford's coattails on in the very loosest sense of the term, and I suspect that makes a difference; he sounded so proud of himself when he mentioned that "finally, I'd found something I was good at" when talking about the early days of the Mystery Shack, and it seems he collected newspaper articles pertaining to it for years, too (based on the changing displays around his mirror in the aging-up montage in "A Tale of Two Stans"). The town will never be the central group, that's the group he defines as "family," but the public of GF, and the stability of having a place in society, where he knows and is known, that goes with said public... I seriously doubt he's genuinely indifferent to them, either. Add in how he's now being proclaimed the town hero on the news broadcasts in the finale (and proclaimed as such under his own name, even), and he might end up essentially only wanting to leave periodically because of the odds there will be a parade when he comes back.

Plus, as the tags mention, Soos. We very rarely get to see it on screen, but there is evidence that Stan is fond of him, in his own way. In his memories, we see him confide in Soos, including unbending enough to talk a little about his childhood and even his father; we also learn from Dipper in the Journal that Stan has memories of teaching Soos to box as a kid, which (since Stan still keeps his gloves around his room as an old man, even, and seems proud of having learned the skill when he was a child) it seems safe to assume was a bonding exercise of sorts. In the episodes of the show, Stan occasionally takes the time to explain business concepts to Soos, and will even (albeit more rarely) listen to Soos' business ideas from time to time. Bill, while inside Stan's mind, also refers to "Stan's family - Question Mark, Shooting Star, Pine Tree!" It must be acknowledged that Bill is a lying liar who lies, of course, and that he was clearly planning to manipulate the Mystery Crew and its emotional issues surrounding, among other things, Stan into inadvertently helping him from the first second, so it's possible he was just saying what he knew would hit an emotional button in Soos (either because pushing Soos' buttons had the potential to be useful later, or because Bill just enjoys pushing buttons), but if he isn't lying, then this nevertheless does lump Soos firmly in with Dipper and Mabel in the "family" category. Support for the idea that Stan might genuinely feel that way could, one could argue, be found in Soos' behavior: he behaves, for all intents and purposes, as a member of the Pines family. Soos is seen attending Pines family movie nights, and accompanies the family through the entirety of "The Golf War;" in that episode, Pacifica even refers to him as a member of the Pines family (though she does also later refer to him as a servant...must not headcanon Pacifica having some degree of genuine bond with her servants, a real attachment to the butler and her nanny and such others as might have taken, even to a limited and inadequate degree, up some of the emotional support roles her parents clearly aren't that interested in filling....). So yeah. Stan might well miss Soos.

Finally, well...Stan refers to himself constantly as an "old man," and while Ford only calls himself old when he's trying to make an excuse to awkwardly ask someone to stay with him without coming out and admitting that he actually just craves human contact, fact remains that the man is over sixty and hasn't had the easiest life. Realistically, there's only so many years that the sea life is going to be remotely plausible for them (even if the extra exercise is really good for Stan in the short term).

**Confession time - I have headcanons around some of the issues I discuss here.

I have the idea that as a young adult, Dipper might accompany the Stans on some of their later adventures. It's a background detail in the one (1) future story I've written, though I keep having vague ideas about exploring it further. Apparently, in my world, Dipper doesn't settle down until at least thirty-five, if he ever does at all (never decided on that issue).

Pacifica might end up working in the stables at the Building Formerly Known As Northwest Manor, at least as a teenager - she's visibly disturbed by the idea of being separated from her horses in the finale, and her comment on her wrecked appearance before she appears on a magazine cover in total disarray during Lost Legends ("I look like...me") indicates that she has a more rough-and-tumble side than her generally immaculate appearance might otherwise suggest; we also know she's apparently a pretty dedicated athlete (practicing mini-golf for hours with a specialized trainer) and her profile in the online pages of LL indicates she likes what sounds like fairly violent video games. When her idea of the Northwest legacy is well and truly shattered, she yanks off her diamond earrings and throws them away, as if rejecting the appearance her parents have pushed onto her now that she's become disgusted with the whole concept behind it. While she probably does have some genuine interest in fashion (she attempts, however briefly, to stand up to her mother to defend her own taste in shades of green in "Northwest Mansion Mystery," and when denied the right to wear what she wants, she comes in purple instead of in any shade of green) she also has an inner tomboy side I expect she'll explore more in the months and years after the show. Plus, getting a job would just be one more way to basically shoot her parents the passive-aggressive bird while simultaneously further integrating her into the social structure of the town proper, where she's now at least somewhat accepted.

post stan o war these two go on lots of adventures

[keywestlou]

GEORGE SANTOS DRAG QUEEN

GEORGE SANTOS DRAG QUEEN - https://keywestlou.com/george-santos-drag-queen/George Santos has been many things. Some true, some false. His most recent background item appears to have been his time as a drag queen. Bess Levin is an excellent investigative reporter. She comes up with some beauties. She reveals one which Santos has failed to list. Perhaps because this one is true. Levin spells it out in her 1/18 article in Vanity Fair titled "Report: George Santos, Supporter of Anti-LGBTQ + Laws, Participated In Drag Shows And Went By The Name 'Katara' In Brazil." Levin wrote, the "serial liar" has more. What she further shared adds to the veracity of her article. The article contains a photo of Santos in drag. Not bad looking! Levin adds: "Meanwhile, he's aligned himself with deeply bigoted members of the far right." She describes Santos' switch from drag queen to opposing gay rights as "flagrant hypocrisy." Debt ceiling problems begin kicking in today. Slowly at this point. Nothing but talk will occur. Impacts will slowly rise into June. The government knows how to borrow from Peter to pay Paul to pay debts till then. I spell out again some of the areas in danger: Social Security, Medicare, salaries of government employees, Veteran benefits, and a crashing stock market. Whacko statement of the day: "Not all students who menstruate are female." So sayeth Minnesota Democrat Rep. Sandra Feist. She wants napkins/tampons available in school male bathrooms as well as female ones. She introduced a bill to that effect: The Menstrual Equity Bill. Reaction to her bill was all one way. Buried Feist's position with fact and ridicule. The oldest person in the world died yesterday. A French nun. Sister Andre. She was 118. Records kept in the U.S. estimate that 1 in 5,000 people are above the age of 100. Eighty five percent are women - a phenomenon not well understood. The new "oldest person in the world" today is American Maria Branyas Morers who is 115. Two movies filmed in Key West in the late 1950's. One is the Rose Tattoo. Written by Key West's own Tennessee Williams. Filmed on Duncan Street in a house 2 doors from Williams' home. Lisa also lives on Duncan 1 1/2 blocks away. Filming began this day in 1956. Anna Mangani and Burt Lancaster starred. Mangani won the Academy Award for Best Female Performance for the film. Lancaster was a guest in Williams' home during much of the filming. Another movie filmed in Key West is Operation Petticoat. Filming began this day in 1959. The movie starred Cary Grant and Tony Curtis. A World War II submarine comedy. The movie continues to be run on TV on a frequent basis. It's that good! Another Steve Thompson story re Key West of another day. Steve had a taco shop in the 200 block of Duval across from Sloppy Joe's. Stan was an owner of Sloppy's at one time. Stan was the owner of Sloppy Joe's in 1973. When he took an option to sell to Walter Perry. I enjoyed visiting with Stan at the bar. We were both open late and he wasn't far. He said he only hired female bartenders. I guess they attracted more big spenders. I asked him what happened to the other pool table. He said he had a fight there last week was nearly fatal. He said we never have trouble but when we do you can be sure it's someone playing pool. Stan said Walter exercised the option on the very last day. He thought the deal was off, he thought they couldn't pay. So that was the end of Sloppy's for Stan, but every tourist still goes there if they can. Enjoy your day!

[dawndelion-winery]

HC FOR CHILDE AND OTHER CHARACTERS WHICH YOU’D LIKE TO WRITE ABT. WRITING PROMP IS BASICALLY GOING SHOPPING WITH THEM HAVE A GREAT DAY ACCO AND SORRY IF IT’S TOO BRIEF

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Ft. Arlecchino, Childe, Diluc, Ningguang, Pantalone

I think I get what you mean but at the same time I don't so I'm just gonna write whatever

Arlecchino:

Organised, probably has a shopping list

Of course, she knows she'd feel bad if she didn't get you anything

Which was why she had a small "spoil y/n" fund set aside

Small by a harbinger's definition of course

Still, bearing in mind that there's a budget for you, she often reminds you of it when you're out shopping

"You've still a lot leftover from your entertainment budget."

Or

"That's half of your budget spent, my love."

Her voice is always gentle with you, and sometimes she'll bring some of the children from the orphanage along if they need to get stuff

If you try to spoil them she warns you that it's coming out of the money she set aside for you but at the end of the day, if you really wanted something, she would eventually cave

Childe:

Yeah, we've seen him spending

"Careful, baby, we wouldn't want to overspend."

Also him: buys anything you set your eyes on

And when you remind him of the budget he'll brush it off saying he has money to spare so it's alright to splurge a little

Meanwhile he's splurging on you at every opportunity

He hardly buys things for himself though

Unless you want him to, of course

You think he looks cute with that shirt? Bill him for it, it's coming home with y'all

He's living his best life spoiling you since he gets to act like your loving husband and head of the household who takes care of his family's needs

He also likes the way you thank him for his presents with kisses

Diluc:

He's hopeless and it's a wonder how he hasn't spent his entire fortune

You're not sure why he takes you shopping when he already buys you the best of the best for all of your needs and interests

And then you find it's a trap for him to see if there's anything else he missed

You can tell him you worry for his savings and he'll assure you his spending hardly left a dent

Probably catches you looking for a present for him and buys it since you seemed so interested only for it to be begrudgingly gifted to him since he ended up buying his own present

"Wait, take it back first, I'll turn around and act surprised."

You can't even stay mad at him because he's such a clown when it comes to making you happy, even if it means terrible acting

"Oh darling, you didn't have to, you've such exquisite taste in gifts-"

"Luc, you bought that yourself-"

"You've a marvelous eye for these things, darling, it's such a lovely gift."

Ningguang:

She doesn't really take you shopping herself, since she's usually caught up with work

But that doesn't mean she doesn't spoil you

She notes whatever you're interested in and sends people's to get it for her

Then she presents it as a gift some time later

"Oh I just happened to come across it and remembered you said you wanted something similar."

Liar, that was the exact thing you wanted and she spent weeks finding it

She does quite enjoy seeing the way your eyes sparkle with excitement

It's enough to make her want to kiss you, as lovable as you look when opening her gifts

Pantalone:

The absolute worst of the lot

When I say nothing is safe from his grasps, I mean there is nothing

Mentioned your favourite food in passing? Would you look at that, he just so happened to gain ownership of this restaurant that specialises in said dish

He vividly remembers what it was like to only be able to gaze at things with useless longing, and he'd never subject you to that

Still, he does love his wealth, so he'll only spend it if you ask him for something unless it's a surprise for you

He is very much an enabler because he'll ask if you're sure you don't want something, but if you're asking to buy it he questions nothing

It's also his way of showing you how you can depend on him for anything, because who else could possible spoil you as he does?

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[gallaghercest]

Lyric Analysis - Moscow Rules

Hello, everyone! This is probably my first post in years - I believe that getting front row in Knebworth + Liam’s new album made me feel reconnected to Oasis again. This post is about my - probably - favourite tune from C`mon You Know. Probably one of the best things a Gallagher has released (ever). In my opinion, Moscow Rules has two possible interpretations. The first one would be a post-war context, where Liam directly talks to/about a guy who went to war and from the moment this guy gets home after war to these days, he’s got nothing, cause the war took everything he had. Actually, that’s the interpretation that I believe that is the real one. Like, the one the writers had in mind when they wrote this. Aaaand there’s the other one, which is... Noel. Again, I know the song wasn’t written planned to be about him, but if we didn’t have our imagination, what we could have? :) Please, find below the analysis. 

Home again But in your dreams you creep back to the wire Tell the truth or something close They'll just call you a liar And when it's done you can't even retire Back on the run, back in the line of fire

For the full understanding of this lyrics analysis, I first need to clear that, instead of the war being an actual war, I would say that the war was Oasis, indeed. Liam and Noel were always fighting for a bigger cause that they didn’t even know what it was, aka just an excuse to show who had more power and control under the other/the band. I could say that I can go deeper and say that the war is Oasis in the final years - 2008 to 2009, since that’s when the shit hit the fan. The first two lines, to me, could be about Noel finally quitting Oasis (home again), but still, his mind keeps wandering back to Liam/Oasis itself. Something that he can’t really help.  I’m still analysing the two following lines, since, to me, they could speak both for Noel and Liam himself. If they’re about Liam, it could be about the media attacks right after Oasis split, when Noel and every single soul on the planet would blame him for the split. If they are related to Noel, I’d say they’re in a nowadays context, where the tables have turned and the media and every single soul on the planet is against Noel. A kind of karma effect in mind, since now Noel is tasting his own poison. “And when it’s done, you can’t even retire” - even though Noel and Liam are successful musicians, they can’t simply retire cause the bills keep coming - don’t get me wrong, I know they have a shitload of money, but IIRC, Liam recently said that we would like to retire and live a peaceful life but he can’t manage to do that. Period.  Perhaps, the retirement itself has a psychological meaning - retire from the Oasis memories and everything they went through, which would emphasise the first two lines - and the last one as well.

Turn the page and burned the book The day we said goodbye, I walked alone And looked ahead, avoided all the eyes But when it's dead it doesn't even die

These bunch of lines to me are not even about Liam and Noel’s emotional split - which, to me, occurred around ‘96-’97 (and I’ve already talked about it a lot in my previous posts), they are about Oasis split, again. When Oasis broke up, Liam immediately knew that he could not let that stop him - that’s why Beady Eye was formed only a couple of hours Noel walked away. Liam avoided all the eyes, first cause as I said, everyone was blaming him, and secondly cause it seemed like Beady Eye was chased (in a terrible way) by the media, no matter how Liam put effort in the band, everyone would say it was a lame band. WHICH IS NOT TRUE, OK?!?!? Please, respect me, I’m Beady Eye’s #1 fan. Also, may I add that “I walked alone [...] avoided all the eyes” can be about the hidden meaning of Oasis breaking up - which is, too, an emotional break up, from Noel to Liam. Massacring Oasis’ existence was the final step of Noel’s ““revenge””, the last straw, indeed. That was, to Liam, far more personal than just putting the band away, it was a way of telling him that no matter how beautiful things they lived in the past, it was Over. and “avoiding all the eyes” would be a way to don’t let the sadness regarding Noel to show up. “But when it’s dead, it doesn’t even die”, again, can be about Oasis, since you can’t murder something so huge and get away with it/let people forget about it, or their feelings for each other. Even after almost 13 years of the split, they can’t get over each other, because that they have will always live. And I quote Liam:

“Me and him are brothers and we will never be over. In the back of my mind, there was always a way back. Me and him will go on forever, and beyond…beyond ... beyond this time. It will go on forever and ever.”

That’s most likely my favourite Liam quote.

Nothing's new, nothing's cool Here again and baby, we're both fools

Nothing new happens regarding they getting over the other, the cycle always seems to repeat itself (”here again”) the beef continues and Liam knows, indeed, they are both idiots for being to proud to not reach out, expecting that, as mentioned in the previous lines, their thing will someday “die” and they will be happy to move on without each other, since that scenario would be nonsense. 

Follows me, follows you It's the same Moscow rules Lonely man, I think you're never alone Even at home The empty seat across the table is staring back

That’s what I’m talking about! Just like a war keeps track on someone forever, becoming a real trauma, the feeling of love, the memories they shared, Oasis - everything, they follow Liam and follow Noel, just like a ghost, a kind of haunting.  Just for the record, The Moscow Rules are:

Assume nothing. Never go against your gut. Everyone is potentially under opposition control. Do not look back; you are never completely alone. Go with the flow, blend in. Vary your pattern and stay within your cover. Lull them into a sense of complacency. Do not harass the opposition. Pick the time and place for action. Keep your options open. In the actual war context I mentioned, I believe this line would be regarding the trauma the war caused to the man Liam’s talking to/about - the man keeps thinking about these rules forever, repeatedly, even after the war is over. Liam and Noel, somehow, are inside a war against each other since 2009. To me, the Moscow Rules are like a guide that teaches someone how to be strategic and a cold person, not ruled by their feelings. So Liam and Noel are following these rules ever since they broke up. Treating each other not like humans, but as war opponents. Which sucks, to be really honest. I believe this song is actually about how every battle eventually comes to an end, but theirs seems to never finish. From “Lonely man” onwards: from the first moment I listened to those lines I could only imagine Noel sitting at Peggy’s house at the same table they all used to dine, and seeing Liam’s seat empty and doing nothing to change it. That can apply to the dining table of his own house too, to be honest. And, clearly, even though the seat is empty, he can still see Liam on it, staring at him with the pair of eyes Noel loves so much - have you ever realised how many times Noel mentions “eyes” in his songs?

Overcast, can't see the sun But I can see the moon Paralysed by memories of ruined afternoons Get outta bed and come sing us a tune

SO WON’T YOU LET ME HAVE MY HEAD AND THEN I CAN SEE THE SUUUUUUN? Just kidding. Noel can only see the moon - this part is kinda of obvious, since the night is always the perfect time to get sad about everything. Noel can’t see the warmth in life anymore, just the darkness around. ”Paralysed by memories of ruined afternoons” - paralysed by the memories of when things were perfect but, for reasons as pride and cockyness, either of them would fuck everything up just to, again, prove who was the more powerful among them. ”Get outta bed and come us sing a tune” - get out of depressive thoughts (or even lazyness) and reform O-fucking-asis please Noel Liam is once  more BEGGING you.

Nothing's new, nothing's cool Here again and baby, we're both fools

Follows me, follows you It's the same Moscow rules Lonely man, I think you're never alone Even at home The empty seat across the table is staring back

Follows me, follows you It's the same Moscow rules Lonely man, I think you're never alone Even at home The empty seat across the table is staring back

That’s it, basically. Thank you for coming to my TED Talks, feel free to send me asks about it and share your opinions on these magnificent lyrics. Don’t forget to reblog too because I’ve been non-stop writing for 45 minutes and I wish I can get some acknowledgment on that. Cheers!

[callipraxia]

Oh thank goodness, someone finally figured out words for this idea. I’ve been trying to figure it out for ages!

It’s like…ok, the book confirms that Bill apparently was genuinely attached, in his own sick and twisted way, to Ford. It’s not an endorsement, it’s just a thing that happened, just like, if you take Bill’s word for it, his post-quarrel bender ended with him (somehow) committing indecent exposure at a Mexican restaurant. That’s not an endorsement of dealing with your breakups by getting blackout drunk and dropping your drawers at a Chipotle, it’s just something this particular maladjusted specimen (possibly*) did. If the book intended to endorse Bill’s behavior in any way, the ending probably wouldn’t have started with a series of passages where the entire Pines family takes turns elaborating on how pathetic Bill is followed by the revelation that he’s been writing the entire book from inside a high-security mental institution, where he’s become a wild-eyed shell of his former self.

*we do, after all, have to take Bill’s word for it that this happened the way he said it happened at all - and Bill is a notorious liar. Ford worries at one point that Bill’s ghost may be attempting some kind of “double reverse psychology” on him, and this concern makes perfect sense. Add in how it is semi-canon that Bill can see past the Fourth Wall and knows about the fandom, and…what motivation does he have to be honest with the reader, again? The reader he’s trying to recruit into his escape plan and who he therefore is highly motivated to convince that he is a sympathetic character? Notaby, he tells us this sob story immediately after we read multiple examples of him being nightmarishly abusive toward the person he’s supposedly fond of, including threatening to stage Ford’s suicide and/or to use the prospect of staging Ford’s suicide to lure Ford’s family into danger to get Ford to do what Bill wants him to do. The “look what you made me make you do!” incident might, after all, be close kin to the idea which nearly gave Bill the universe. Not only does Bill know Ford better than any human (including Ford himself) ever could, but he’s also read every word Ford ever wrote in the Journals, even writing the last eighties entry in invisible ink without Ford apparently ever realizing he’d done so. He knows that Ford felt the point at which Bill “crossed a line” was not when Bill publicly humiliated him or physically harmed him. He knows that Ford’s definition of Bill going too far was when Bill pulled the payphone stunt. Ford didn’t realize how important family really was, deep down, to him at that time, but Bill knew, and Bill exploited. Back in TBOB, though, Bill would realize he needed to get the reader back on his side quickly after we just read about all that, and so he tells us a comically obvious lie that implies Bill was secretly absolutely distraught over the partnership dissolution before he quickly shifts back to flattering the reader, saying how the reader is so much better than Ford and how that’s why the reader is included in the plans for universal domination that Bill is about to unveil. The existence of the police report about his drunken attempt to order Ford at a restaurant adds a *tiny* bit of credibility to Bill’s tale, but come on - faking a police report would be easier than a party trick for Bill if he thought it would get him what he wanted, he already told us he can project anything he wants onto the pages of the Book, and the next paragraph doesn’t really make a ton of sense, does it? Bill proudly discusses how feared he was across the multiverse before his death. Bill is the entity who, a mere thirty years (out of the trillions of years of his life) after he supposedly got arrested while hammered in a fast food joint, took out Time Baby without visible effort when TB tried to arrest him for endangering the fabric of space-time. Did he really figure out how to become arrest-proof in just thirty years(a period which to something his age is probably about as long as a blink is to us), or did he lie about what happened to further his own agenda? Yeah, I know I’m probably stretching the point a little here, and that we probably are supposed to believe Bill really did get upset and overindulge in I’m Fine Juice over the loss of his “pet human,” but the scenario I’ve outlined doesn’t feel like an especially wild speculation to me.

Something that I don’t understand with this book is why everyone is treating Bill like this cutesy thing just cuz he had a crush on Ford and had a backstory explained? Need we forget about all the horrible things he did and almost did? Like I understand that fans love villains and especially villains with a backstory but I’ve seen some fans recently that genuinely think that Bill is a good and misunderstood guy now, that he isn’t some master manipulator, that he isn’t some evil triangle that almost took over the world and nearly killed two twelve year olds. Again fans love their villains but that demonic Dorito has no redeeming qualities.

This could be notched to us just interacting w/ different circles, but while I've seen some content having fun with the bill/ford relationship, I don't think anyone on my dashboard has actually forgotten that it's abusive, or has shipped them under the idea that they're actually right for each other. Like, they are a toxic horrible pair, and Ford's life was ruined, and that is interesting. Messy relationships in fiction are interesting, because conflict and manipulation is interesting. I, personally. haven't interacted with anyone treating it as cute or positive.

There are some comedic undertones to the book, and to the way people talk about Bill and Ford. But, speaking as a survivor of an abusive relationship (not that that's something I should even need to disclose, but here I am) I think that it's possible to engage with these themes in fiction without thinking that it's actually morally good. Like, I can enjoy the Saw movies without wishing someone would serial-kill me or thinking that Jigsaw is correct. It can just be fun to watch some problematic ppl do problematic things.

I cannot fathom that anyone is walking away from The Book of Bill, a book where every Ford page is talking about how Bill literally ruined his life, and where every Bill page features him being an unfaithful narrator lying to the reader, and think that Bill is a good person, or good for Ford. I do not understand anyone who thinks they are a legit good pairing. But I do think messy fiction, written and drawn by ppl who understand that abuse is bad (which... i think everyone engaging with it is, at least on my dashboard and timeline), is fine.

I love me some irredeemable shitty (fictional) characters ruining (fictional) lives.

[aliwritesfic]

The Night Shift part 7 (F!Reader x Frankie Morales)

Summary: Sunday lunch with the nightcrew bois, what secrets will come out?

Warnings: Emotional abuse

W/C: 1.9k

Spotify

Part 1 Part 8

The sun was too fucking bright. You groaned and rolled over, mouth dry and head pounding. Your phone told you it was almost eleven, which meant you only had an hour to get ready. That was okay, though. You weren’t exactly dressing to impress. It was only Manny and Frankie . . . Frankie.With a wince, you remembered your conversation with him last night. Had it been painfully obvious that you were talking about yourself? Surely not, if he was drunk too. But as you showered, you thought about what he said, and realised that he was right. At least, he was right about what you could remember him saying. Leaving Kurt wouldn’t mean you would be alone and unloved. You had Manny and Sara; you knew they loved you. But that didn’t change that if you left, you’d have nowhere to go. You had never been the type of person to ask for handouts, especially sympathy handouts. There was just too much to think about.

A text from your phone from Sara told you as much as you needed to know about her night went.

Manifestation WORKS 😉 sent 8:34AM

You spent a few extra minutes washing your face, enjoying the feel of cool water on your skin. Flecks of makeup that you had slept in swirled down the drain, grey and black and blue. Tiny bits of glitter glinted on your cheeks, reminding you of days past when you would drown yourself in glitter to go out clubbing. The memory made you smile, remembering how carefree and happy you were just a few years ago.

Grabbing your darkest pair of sunglasses, you were ready to go. You hadn’t bothered with styling your hair beyond running a quick brush through, and your face was devoid of makeup aside from any remnants left from last night.

It was a quick walk to the bistro, your stomach roiling the entire time. You knew it was food you needed; you had already thrown up several times last night after arriving home. The thought of filling your stomach spurred you on, your feet moving slightly faster. You whipped out your phone to text Manny.

Get. Bread. Please.

There were a few unread messages from Kurt. You knew that avoiding him was immature and would only come back to bite you on the ass when he came home, but the thought of opening them and actually reading them made you feel ill. And he would know when you opened them; he complained whenever you turned your read receipts off. So, you kept them on, to keep the peace, and just avoided opening his messages until you were ready to deal with them.

The bistro came into view, and you saw Manny already sitting at your usual table on the outside terrace. You sat down gingerly next to him and flashed him a weak smile.

“You look terrible,” he said gleefully, pushing a basket of bread and butter your way. You grabbed a small roll and broke it open, inhaling the warm scent.

“I feelterrible,” you told him. “Hangovers don’t suit me.”

Manny laughed ruffled your hair. You groaned loudly, swatting his hand away, which only made him laugh harder.

“Lover, I’ve never seen you in this kind of state before, let me tease you a little,” he said. You flipped him off and ate another roll.

“Is Frankie here yet?” You asked, trying to keep the hope out of your voice. Judging by the look on Manny’s face, you had failed miserably.

“Crushing on the cook, are we?” He waggled his brows.

“No! Of course not!” You said quickly. Liar a tiny voice whispered in your ear. “I was just wondering if he got the right place.”

“Well, wonder no longer, that’s him isn’t it?”

From your spot on the terrace, you could see the familiar figure walking down the shady street to the bistro. Your palms dampened with sweat at the sight of him.

“Francisco!” Manny called, waving him over. Frankie broke into a half jog, raising his arm in a wave. You sunk slightly in your seat, praying that he wouldn’t bring up your conversation with him last night.

“How’s your hangover treating you?” Frankie asked, taking a seat at the table.

“Fucking terribly,” you said, “this is not at all what I was promised last night when I did my fourth shot.” Manny snorted and turned to the waitress who had appeared at your table.

“Good afternoon, dearest Andrea,” Manny said.

“Manny, hun, you know I hate when you use my full name,” Andi, as she preferred to be called, said. You liked Andi, she a couple years younger than you and working her way through a master’s in engineering. “What are we all having today?”

“My usual, please,” Manny said.

“The greasiest thing on the menu for me, I don’t care what it is,” you said. Andy smiled at you in sympathy, knowing the tell-tale signs of a hangover. She then turned to Frankie.

“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting before,” she said, her voice suddenly an octave higher.

“Francisco, or Frankie if you like,” he said. “Can I have the alfredo?”

“Of course, Frankie, anything else I can get for you?”

You and Manny glanced at each other, Manny with his eyebrow slightly raised. You knew Andi was a flirt, you’d seen her flirt with customers dozens of times, but something about this felt different. Personal. You chewed the inside of your lip, hoping your annoyance didn’t show too plainly on your face.

“So, what didyou do last night, lover?” Manny turned to you once Andi left.

“Drank too much,” you said. “Kurt’s out of town and Sara’s in town so I . . . I could go out. And I saw Frankie and his friends out.”

“Are your friends all as gorgeous as you?” Manny asked, turning to Frankie who blushed deeply.

“I wouldn’t say I’m gorgeous,” he mumbled, adjusting his cap slightly. “I’m just average.”

“Gorgeous and humble,” Manny said, “your partner is a lucky person.”

“I’m not- I uh don’t- I’m not with anyone,” it dawned on you that Frankie was terrible at taking compliments.

“Maybe it’s my personal bias, but out of all his friends, Frankie is truly the most attractive of them,” you said. You knew this could lead to something dangerous, but the chance to see Frankie flustered was just too good to miss.

“Yo-you do?” he asked, turning an even deeper shade of red. You nodded seriously.

“Whoever you date in future is going to be very lucky,” Manny said. Then, never one to linger on a topic for too long, Manny took a sip of his water and declared that it was feelings time.

“Feelings time?” Frankie sounded uncertain.

“Well, neither of us can afford therapy, so we use each other as therapists,” Manny explained. “We started it when I was working at Lou’s, and it’s been so long since I’ve had a good feelings time. Of course, you don’t have to participate if you don’t want to, and if you do want, keep it as light or as heavy as your heart tells you. Consent is key.”

Frankie nodded, obviously still unsure of the whole situation. It struck you then how strange you and Manny would seem to an outsider. Andi returned with food for the three of you, placing down the biggest burger you had laid eyes on in front of you.

“Enjoy,” she said with a wink to Frankie. “Come find me personally if you’re not satisfied.”

You could’ve thrown up at the blatant flirting. What made it worse was Frankie seemed to be enjoying it, smiling up at Andi.

“I’ll start,” Manny said, once Andi was gone again. “I’m feeling overwhelmed recently with my new job and the house renovations James and I are undertaking. We had a big fight over fucking tiles last night, and I know we wouldn’t have if I could just be decisive.”

“Does James know how you’re feeling?” You asked. Manny shrugged.

“I don’t know. I’d normally tell him about it in a heartbeat, but he’s been stressed too, and I don’t want to add to it.”

“He’s your husband, right?” Frankie asked and Manny nodded. You glanced at him in surprise. “Husbands should support each other. You usually feel supported by him, right? So why is now any different? His stress is your stress, yours is his. That’s what you signed up for when you got married.”

“Yeah, you shouldn’t be afraid to tell him what’s going on with you,” you said, realising how ironic that was coming from you.

Manny looked thoughtful as he cut into his vegetable stack. “You’ve given me a lot to think about. Now your turn, lover.” You groaned. Feelings time was fine when you were listening to other people, and when the feelings you had weren’t so messy. But you could filter your feelings, and you trusted the two men you sat with.

“Okay,” you took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m feeling like I want to end my relationship. I feel like I’m fucking miserable, but I also feel like I’m trapped. Frankie, you remember that friend I told you about last night? It’s actually me.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“Yeah, it was pretty obvious, but I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable by saying that.”

“Oh, my god,” you rubbed your face. “Right. So, like I said, I want to break up with Kurt, but it’s not easy to do.” You waited for one of them to interrupt you, when they didn’t, you went on. “For one, I don’t have enough money to move out. I don’t have much in savings at all because I keep needing to dig into it when he’s short on rent or money for bills or whatever. I don’t love him anymore, I don’t even know if I like him. Also, he said hedkillhimselfifieverleft.”

“Excuse me, he said what?” Manny leant forward, rage curdling his usually placid face. Frankie too, looked furious.

“He said he would kill himself if I ever left,” your voice was small. “I tried, one time, and-and he sent me a video of him tying a noose to a ceiling fan telling me it was my fault he was doing that. So, I went back, because I don’t want his death on my hands.” You realised with growing humiliation that you were crying.

Manny reached across the table and took your hand, holding it gently. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to bother anyone,” you said, “it was my problem to deal with.”

“When does he come back?” Frankie asked quietly.

“Tomorrow,” you said. Manny and Frankie exchanged a look and Manny nodded.

“If you let us,” Manny said carefully, “we’re gonna help you get out. We won’t force you into anything, but we want to help.”

“Wait,” you sat back, confused, “wait. Have you too been conspiring behind my back? How? When?”

“No, not til this morning. I gave Frankie my number when I first met him, in case he had any questions. Then he messaged me this morning, and we got to talking about how we can help you.”

“If you want our help,” Frankie said. Part of you felt like you should’ve been angry, but you couldn’t be. Instead, you were overwhelmed with gratitude, with love. You grabbed a napkin and dabbed at your eyes under your sunglasses.

“I think I want help,” you said finally. You knew you couldn’t do this without help, even though it embarrassed you to admit that. Frankie nodded, satisfied.

“Alright, we need to make a plan.”

Taglist: @hnt-escape @sharkbait77 @1800-fight-me @annathewitch @darnitdraco @frankiecatfish @punkerthanpascal @nakhudanyx @gracie7209

[jyleshay]

Here's your Big Summer Blog Blowout

What an eventful summer it has been, I'm not even sure what topics I should write about here. Elon Musk is trying to terminate his contract to purchase Twitter for $44 billion. Not gonna cover that; he's a silly rich man who thinks rules don't apply to him because 100 million people (and bots) follow his every posted thought. If that story interests you, I'd recommend finance blogger Matt Levine as a good source of analysis.

Monkeypox has been a story, but I think collectively we're all trying to ignore that pandemics are a thing to worry about anymore. The Daily did a good episode on how we bungled that one.

There is a water crisis in the United States. The cause is a combination of climate changes and human behavior, we are using water, and have been for years, in a completely unsustainable way. The resulting problems are bad...sometimes even apocalyptic. For 100 years the states sharing the Colorado river have been using an allocation system that grants right to the water that add up to more than 100% of the actual water in the river. In Utah, the Great Salt Lake is drying up too. You may be thinking, "Silly Billy, that's a salt lake, we don't drink out of that one." That's true, but we are using up its tributaries and the resulting dust pollution from the dried up lake is kind of poisonous to living things. Also, migratory birds rely on the brine shrimp in the lake; humans aren't the only living things in the ecosystem. Here's your further reading from the NYT on that story.

Maybe let's switch to some good news. The James Webb telescope was successfully deployed a million miles away and we got some incredible new images from the great expanse of space. This story is the one I'm the most excited about, but also the one I'm the least equipped to write about. In short, there is some much information we are going to learn about the universe that we didn't know before and that's very exciting!

Okay, getting more political now, the Search of Mar-a-Lago. The former president had his home searched for documents that he took with him from the White House. Trump has claimed that this is a political witch hunt and that he had a standing order to declassify all documents that he took to his residence while he was President. It's a tough place for Republicans to be; if you believe him then you have to ask if that's really a smart security policy for a President to have. Also, it requires some mental gymnastics considering the now ironic attacks he made on Hillary Clinton during the 2016 election campaign. If you don't believe him (which I certainly don't) then he's a liar AND a security risk. It raises a lot of uncomfortable questions if you're a thoughtful Republican.

While Trump was dealing with that, Congress got busy passing the Inflation Reduction Act. This bill attempts to counter some of the inflation-contributing spending from the stimulus bills of the pandemic, while also investing money in infrastructure to curb the effects of climate change. It is projected to raise more in revenue than it spends on climate change. I really like that.

New corporate taxes, drug reform, and funding for the IRS are the main avenues for raising revenue. A few clients have asked me if the IRS getting more funding will mean more audits. Maybe, but I'm still in favor of it. A lot of IRS funding will simply go to upgrading their computer systems. Here's a very interesting thread on how archaic the current IRS processes are, upgrades as a result of this bill should make the IRS more responsive and taxpayer friendly. It will also encourage more taxpayers to be honest in paying their taxes, shouldn't we all want that?

And finally, we have Biden's executive order to cancel $10,000 of student debt for borrowers with income below $125k. I have mixed feelings about this one. It is good that the student loan payment suspension is ending. People have argued that this loan forgiveness will add to inflation. I think the suspension and the pandemic stimulus added more to inflation than this forgiveness will. Forgiveness does not solve the underlying problem, college costs have been rising too fast; this forgiveness just allows colleges to maintain their poor behaviors.

I am generally in favor of policies that add people to the middle class, giving them the financial security and safety to live their lives freely. One of the issues I had with PPP loans was that it primarily gave the money to people who were already financially secure. There were no income limitations, so wealthy business owners were able to get free money in the government's effort to provide confidence that the pandemic wouldn't tank the economy. Simply put, the student loan forgiveness is different in that it targets more people that are not financially secure yet and will make it easier for them to reach financial security.

Yes, there is a crisis that has developed in the US around college education and student loan forgiveness is only treating a symptom, not the crisis itself. However, the loan suspension during the pandemic created a situation that required some form of action by the government, and I think this order resolves that situation. Here is a great podcast discussing the situation a lot better than I can articulate it. Also, the whole thing may get blocked by the Supreme Court, so it might not matter?

Favorites:

Since my last post I've read two books: Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir and Sapiens by Yuval Noah Harari. Project Hail Mary was a very fun sci-fi romp through outer space. Same energy as the author's previous book, The Martian, I really enjoyed it. Sapiens is a very interesting book. A Brief History of Humankind, it spans the whole of human's history and discusses our breakthroughs and changes from the days of being hunter gatherers all the way to today. It was thought provoking and I highly recommend it to see a different perspective on who we were and how it affects who we are.

Movie: Bullet Train - Don't sleep on this movie. It is original and fun with a great soundtrack.

Series: Only Murders in the Building Season 2 - This is kind of a comfort show at this point.

YouTube: 10 Levels of Sleight of Hand - Daniel Roy. I just thought this was interesting.

YouTube: The Supreme Court Declares War On The Environment -Climate Town

Phew that was a lot, good luck in September!

[orangeoctopi7]

A Negligible Price

I guess it’s becoming a tradition for me to add another chapter to A Minor Inconvenience every year for @stanuary . I swear I didn’t mean for this to happen. It’s just that the prompt “Sacrifice” got me thinking about this story and where I thought it could go, and then I got writing and I started coming up with ideas for how I could actually put a finish to this story. So yeah, hopefully it won’t be another year before I post chapter 4, but not promises!

Also, first time I’ve had to do this, but:

CONTENT WARNING: DISCUSSION OF SUICIDE/MARTYR COMPLEX AND SUIDICE ADJACENT THEMES.

* * *

Bill rushes to gather himself together again. Now that Sixer and his idiot brother have caught on, he knows they’ll probably be making a move against him soon. The time for lying in wait and keeping a low profile has passed. He’s been getting faster, better at finding the tiny flecks of gold scattered into the dark abyss below. 

Unfortunately that also means that he’s noticed that some missing pieces just never turn up. As an interdimensional being who’s existed in countless dimensions across innumerable timelines, Bill likes to think he knows himself pretty well now. What he’s made of, how much power he’s accumulated, what he’s capable of. And if he had to estimate now, which he does, he’d say he’s been reduced to maybe a third of his power. Roughly two thirds of him are missing. 

What happened to those missing pieces? Were they simply deleted by that memory eraser? Did he leave some of himself behind in that physical form he left to enter Stan’s mind in the Fearamid? Bill can only guess, but really, in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter. What matters is getting out of this moron’s brain and starting again on his path to a universe free of rules.

* * *

Stan recovered from his latest memory lapse quickly, despite the fact that it was the worst one he’d experienced since he sacrificed himself to the memory gun last summer. The experience had clearly put Ford on edge, and as much as he tried to bottle up his emotions and remain calm, Stan could practically feel the panic coming off him in waves. 

They were both relieved when they reached Spitsbergen. There was a hospital in Longyearbyen, where Ford insisted they stop to give Stan a check-up. Stan felt fine, but if it helped ease Ford’s nerves, then he could sit through a check-up.

Explaining Stan’s condition to the doctor was a struggle, considering English was not his strongest language. They definitely got across that Stan was experiencing memory problems, but the doctor seemed to be under the impression it had been caused by an injury to the head in an accident, rather than a purposeful exposure to a memory-erasing device. 

Eventually, Ford had lost his patience and just asked if they could use the CT or MRI machine themselves. The doctor spoke enough English to tell them that the nearest CT or MRI machine was in either Iceland or Russia.

The elder Pines twins left the hospital in low spirits. Ford kicked at little pebbles as they walked down the street.

“There’s a research facility in Ny-Ålesund. Perhaps we could sail up there and commandeer some equipment to rig up our own CT scan…”

“I think it’d be easier to just hop on a plane back to the States at this point.” Stan suggested.

“If we’re going to hop on a plane somewhere, it’ll be to Reykjavik, where we won’t have to pay an arm and a leg for any treatments.”

“Yeah, we’ll just have to wait half a year.” Stan rolled his eyes. “I don’t think they’re gonna take ‘revived demon in my head’ as an urgent need.”

“Probably not…” Ford admitted.

“And you’re sure you didn’t figure anything else out the last time you were pokin’ around in my head?”

Ford grit his teeth. The truth was, he was afraid what would happen if he tried to revisit that memory. The cold flames of the memory eraser had felt so real, even just revisiting it in Stan’s mind, and they seemed to be the trigger of his latest memory lapse. Would they have a similar effect within Ford’s own memory?

“Nothing I’ve been able to make sense of.”

Stan grit his teeth. “So what now? Just leave that jerk in my head?”

Ford sighed. “I want to do some more research into what we’ve learned so far. Perhaps a trip to the library will help me find some insight. But truthfully… I may have been too hasty with punching out Bill, when I encountered him. He’s a liar who can’t be trusted, but he’s also a braggart. If I’d just let him run his mouth a little longer, we may have learned something about what he’s up to.”

* * *

Longyearbyen’s library wasn’t any bigger than the public library in Gravity Falls, and had significantly fewer books relating to Bill and mind magic, but it did at least have access to several library databases that Ford couldn’t typically log into from the Stan’O’War II. (According to Fiddleford, these databases could be hacked into quite easily, but Ford didn’t have the time or the wherewithal to learn how) It would have to do for now. Ford took a seat at a computer, and with a little help from a librarian, he was soon scrolling through peer-reviewed articles from different archeologists and anthropologists and folklore experts and descendants of the Aztecs and Mayans debating who Xolotl was, what his role was in the Aztec religion, how much his lore changed from Pre- and Post- Colombian invasion, and so forth. 

What he’d learned so far was interesting, to say the least. The things that most people agreed upon was that Xolotl was a god of death, fire, and lightning. What caught Ford’s attention was the fact that they were also the god of twins and deformities. He glanced down at his twelve fingers, which rested awkwardly on the small keyboard meant for people with just ten. It seemed odd that Bill would call on this particular death god, when they seemed far more likely to be a patron to Stan and Ford. 

While Ford puzzled over this new information, Stan browsed the library, looking for something to entertain himself while he waited. Unsurprisingly, there weren’t a whole lot of English books in this Norwegian library. Luckily, it wasn’t long before he stumbled upon an extensive comics section. Even though he still couldn’t read most of them, the pictures were at least enough that he got the gist of what was going on.

 European comics were very different from American comics. They featured a lot less costumed superheroes punching bad guys and a lot more weird, quirky characters setting out on adventures and exploring the world. They also seemed to lean more heavily on comedy rather than drama. Stan decided he liked them.

He’d been looking at a story about some rich duck when he noticed he felt odd. He didn’t know how else to explain it other than to say that his brain felt itchy. The more he concentrated on it, the more it faded away, but when he went back to looking at the comic and got absorbed back into the story, it came back.

After almost an hour of the feeling coming and going, Stan decided he was not imagining the sensation. He stuffed a tissue into the comic as a bookmark and got up to see what Ford would have to say about it. Almost as soon as he laid eyes on his brother, a wave of anger washed over him. Just like the itchy brain feeling, it went away almost as soon as he stopped and thought about it, but it had been so strong, that he couldn’t deny it had happened.

“Hey.” Stan tapped his brother on the shoulder as the old researcher skimmed an article about why the Aztecs associated lightning with twins.

“Hmm?” Ford acknowledged him without looking away from the screen.

“Am I forgettin’ to be mad at you about somethin’?”

That got Ford to turn and look at him. “Are you having a memory lapse!?”

“I don’t think so, but just a second ago I looked over at you and I felt really mad all of a sudden. Can’t really think of a reason why, though. I’m just wondering if maybe the other day, when I had the big blank-out, maybe we missed somethin’?”

The old researcher’s face contorted with guilt. “You have ample reason to be mad at me. I didn’t stand up for you when dad kicked you out. I never reached out to you for over ten years. I expected you to drop everything and help me with my problems without any explanation. I refused to thank you for saving my life--”

“Yeah, no, none of that stuff.” Stan shook his head. “I remember all that stuff, and I’ve already forgiven you and junk. Mmmm… did you try to enchant the mop again and not let me remember it?” But even as he joked that the underlying reason must be the latest chapter in a minor argument, he knew that couldn’t be right. The sudden bloom of anger had been much more deep-seated and horrible than that. It had felt like… it had felt like Ford had ruined everything. 

To be fair, there had been a long period of Stan’s life when he had felt like Ford had ruined everything. But Stan was over that now, and this brief brush with anger had felt even more heated than that.

Ford gave him an appraising look. “Were there any other memories or emotions associated with this feeling?”

“Oh yeah, my brain was feelin’ itchy right before that.”

“Have… you been using shampoo?” Ford asked, unsure of what to do with this information.

“Not my scalp, genius, like the actual thinking part of my brain!”

“... I can’t even begin to guess what that means.”

“Ugh, I don’t know how else to describe it, ok? It’s like somethin’ was squirmin’ around in my mind!”

The brothers wore twin expressions of realization as the words left Stan’s mouth. 

“We need to get back to the boat.” Ford stood from the computer desk abruptly.

“Yep.” Stan set the comic he’d been reading down on the desk, not even bothering to remove his improvised bookmark. 

* * *

Bill throws his hands up and roars in frustration. He can’t seem to take control, even when the moron’s mind is zoning out, losing himself in some stupid comic book. He’s already in the mind! He’s been here for months! He knows his way around here. So why isn’t it working? Is it because he never made a deal with this guy? That shouldn’t matter! The last thing they did before the whole memory gun thing was shake hands! 

There's no time to waste complaining, though. Sixer will be poking around here any minute. Bill needs a plan. Before, he'd spent millions of years in the Nightmare Realm planning. Now he's making everything up as he goes.

It's clear that Bill can't just take control of Stan like he'd been counting on. But do the other two know that? He might still be able to use that to his advantage.

If Bill is going to trick these losers and get out of here, he needs to play his opponents right. Luckily, he's got years of experience fighting against Sixer. It's the Big Mackerel that he worries about. 

Before, Bill hadn't paid much attention to Stan. He thought he understood what made the simple con man tick. But then, in the end, he found he didn't understand at all. Even after months of being trapped in his mindscape, Stan is very much still a mystery to Bill.

But there is one thing about Stan that Bill does understand.

He’s willing to sacrifice himself for his family.

* * *

Once they were back aboard the Stan’O’War II, Stan allowed himself to relax, just a little. At least here his surroundings were familiar, and the only person he had to worry about was his own brother.

Under normal circumstances, “the only person he had to worry about” meant he didn’t have to look over his shoulder for law enforcement or old criminals who might recognize Stan from his drifter days. 

Today “the only person he had to worry about” meant the only person he could possibly endanger if Bill was able to take control of him. Ford was the last person Stan wanted to put in danger, but he also had to admit, his brother knew more about the demon than any other living being on the planet. 

Stan may have been able to relax a tiny fraction once they were back aboard their boat, but not Ford. Ford was in full-blown panic mode.

He frantically searched around the storage room for something, anything, that could help protect his brother from Bill. Unfortunately, they hadn’t thought to bring unicorn hair or moonstones on their voyage. He did have titanium, but he wasn’t confident enough in his emergency medical knowledge to perform cranial surgery on his own, and he doubted they’d be able to find a doctor crooked enough to do it for them. Currently, his best idea was to build an updated version of Project Mentem, but that would take time. Time he wasn’t sure Stan had.

“I can re-enter your mindscape and shatter him again.” Ford decided, pulling out the candles again. “That should at least buy you a few days.”

“Ok.” Stan nodded. He’d definitely prefer to know Bill was shattered again, and not moving around in his brain. “But it’s not like he’s doing anything right now.”

“He’s probably trying to get us to lower our guard.” Ford assumed. “I’ll need to tie you up. He usually makes his move while his victim is asleep.”

“If I need to fall asleep for your spell while tied up, we’re gonna be waitin’ a long time.” Stan warned. “I dunno if I could even fall asleep right now if I had the world’s most comfortable bed.”

“Fair point.” Ford nodded. “I may have to drug you.”

“You gotta be kidding me!” It was abundantly clear that Ford was not kidding in the slightest.

“Would you rather be used as his puppet!?” The old researcher shouted. The outburst rang in the air for a few seconds while Ford tried to steady his breathing. “Stan I… I’m sorry, I just--”

“It’s ok.” Stan pulled him into a hug and tried his best to calm his brother down. “I know you’re just scared.”

“I’m not scared for myself.” Ford explained in a small voice. “I’m scared for you. Waking up to find that you’ve hurt someone, it’s-- I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, least of all you--”

“Stanford, look at me. We’re not gonna let that happen. What if we do it while I’m awake, like we did with the memory before?”

Ford nodded meekly. “That… that could work.”

“You can still tie me up if that makes you feel better.”

The old researcher bit his lip. “...It shouldn't be necessary...”

“Ford.”

“...But it probably would ease some of my fears, yes.” he admitted.

“That’s what I thought. I’ll go get the rope.”

Still unwilling to let his brother out of his sight, Ford followed Stan up to the deck while he retrieved said rope. Once they were back below deck, he wrapped Stan tightly in a large blanket before sitting him down on a chair and tying him up, to ensure he was as comfortable as possible while still restricting his movement.

“How do you feel?” Ford asked as he lit the candles.

“Like I’m about to be shipped back to Oregon in the mail.”

“And Bill…?”

“I haven’t felt anything else from him since we left the library.”

The lack of activity should have reassured Ford, but instead it just added to his general unease. At least he was able to compose himself enough to perform the incantation.

Just as last time, after a flash of light, he found himself on the deck of Stan’s mindscape, with Stan himself standing beside him. This time, though, Bill was floating there, waiting for them.

“I KNEW YOU’D BE BACK HERE AFTER I GOT YOUR ATTENTION IN THE LIBRARY!” The demon taunted. “OH, AND LOOK. STANO HERE EVEN MADE A MENTAL CONSTRUCT OF HIMSELF WITHIN HIS OWN MIND JUST SO YOU WOULDN’T HAVE TO FACE ME ALONE! HOW CUTE!” He prodded Stan in the stomach like he was the Pillsbury Doughboy.

“Back off, bucko!” Stan threatened. “We’re here to break your whole face!”

“WHAT, YOU COULDN’T WAIT UNTIL TONIGHT TO DO IT IN YOUR DREAMS LIKE YOU ALWAYS DO?” Bill asked, voice dripping with false innocence. 

“We’re not able to risk the chance of you parading about in Stanley’s body.” Ford growled.

“HA! YOU SHOULD KNOW BETTER THAN ANYONE, FORDSY, I ONLY DO THAT TO STUBBORN KNOW-IT-ALLS WHO WON’T WORK WITH ME WILLINGLY.”

“If you think I’m gonna work with you willingly, then you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought.” Stan grunted.

“HEAR ME OUT, MAC! WE BOTH WANT THE SAME THING HERE! ME, OUT OF YOUR SAD PATHETIC MIND!”

“You can’t leave!?” Ford asked in surprise.

“WHAT, YOU THINK I ENJOY SPENDING TIME IN THIS BOZO’S MIND? YOU THINK I WAS PLOTTING MY REVENGE?”

“Honestly, yes.”

Bill gave a long, mocking laugh. “AHAHAHAHAHA! YOU REALLY THINK I CARE ABOUT A COUPLE OF INSIGNIFICANT FLESH SACKS LIKE YOU?”

“We’re the insignificant flesh sacks who killed you!” Stan reminded him.

“WELL, YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY. THE BEST REVENGE IS LIVING WELL.”

The brothers exchanged a suspicious glance. They highly doubted Bill actually believed that adage.

“BUT I CAN’T EXACTLY LIVE WELL TRAPPED IN YOUR MINDSCAPE. I MIGHT GET BORED AND DECIDE THE BEST REVENGE IS KILLING YOUR ENTIRE FAMILY WITH YOUR OWN HANDS.”

Ah yes, that was more along the lines of what they expected from Bill.

“So you’re saying you’ll just let bygones be bygones if I cooperate with you?” Stan asked skeptically. 

“WE’LL GO OUR SEPARATE WAYS, NEVER TO MEET AGAIN!”

“And what are you planning on doing once you’re free?” Ford asked coldly.

“NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS, SIXER.” The demon waved him off. “NOW ARE YOU GONNA HELP ME OUT OF HERE OR NOT? THE SOONER THE BETTER. YOU TWO AREN’T GETTING ANY FURTHER AWAY FROM THE AVERAGE LIFE EXPECTANCY OF A HUMAN MALE, AND FISH FACE HERE DOESN'T EXACTLY TAKE GOOD CARE OF HIS BODY.”

“Hey!” Stan shouted indignantly.

“Why should Stan’s life expectancy factor into this?” Ford asked.

“HMMM? OH, NO REASON.” Bill said evasively. “I’M JUST, Y’KNOW, IN A HURRY.”

“You’re an immortal, extradimensional being. You’ve been trying to find a way out of the nightmare realm since before multicellular life developed on this planet. If you’re so sure we’re close to the end of our lives, why not wait until we’re out of the way? You must realize we’ll try and stop you from starting Weirdmaggedon again!” Ford reasoned.

“WHO SAID ANYTHING ABOUT STARTING WEIRDMAGGEDON AGAIN?” Bill denied. “AND MAYBE AFTER A BILLION YEARS, I’M TIRED OF WAITING!”

“Unless you aren’t immortal any more.” the old researcher concluded.

“YOU’VE SEEN FOR YOURSELF, FORDSY, EVERY TIME YOU OR YOUR IDIOT BROTHER SHATTER ME, I PULL MYSELF BACK TOGETHER.”

“Immortal in the mind, perhaps. But what happens when the mind you’re occupying finally dies?”

“ALRIGHT, YOU FIGURED IT OUT!” Bill sneered. “I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN A GENIUS LIKE YOU WOULD. YEAH, MY LIFE’S TIED TO THE BIG MACKEREL’S NOW. SO WHAT? YOU GONNA KILL YOUR BROTHER JUST TO GET RID OF ME?”

“Of course not!” Ford barked.

“Hey, I’d be more than happy to take you down with me if it meant making sure you never hurt anyone else ever again!” Stan challenged the demon.

Ford stared at his brother with wide eyes. “Stanley, no!”

“Hey, relax, I’m not talkin’ suicide or anything.” Stan assured him. “But he’s right about one thing. I’m not gonna live forever.”

I’ll only do it if I have to. A stray thought cawed overhead.

Stan cussed under his breath as Ford gaped at him with a mix of alarm and pity.

“I’m not gonna take it back.” Stan insisted after a moment. “If that’s what it comes down to, to keep him from hurtin’ you or the kids, then I’m taking him down with me.”

Ford placed his hands firmly on Stan’s shoulders and looked him straight in the eye with all the intensity he could muster. “We won’t let that happen!” 

Bill laughed at them cruelly. “RIGHT, CUZ YOU’VE HAD SO MUCH SUCCESS STOPPING ME IN THE PAST.”

“I’ll find some other way!” Ford insisted.

“I’M SURE YOU COULD, WITH TIME.” Bill agreed. “BUT I’M GONNA STRANGLE YOU IN YOUR SLEEP BEFORE THEN!”

Not if I strangle myself first! Another one of Stan’s stray thoughts called.

Ford gave his brother a frustrated shake. “No! Stanley, I swear to you, that won’t be necessary!”

“Alright, that’s it. We’re not havin’ this conversation in my brain, where you can hear all my unprocessed thoughts.” Stan decided.

Suddenly, Ford’s form and everything around them flickered and began to fade to white. Stan and Bill were the only ones who remained solid and whole. Stan was waking up? But he’d never been asleep before the spell in the first place!

“Don’t you try any funny business!” Stan pointed an accusing finger at Bill. “I’m coming back to shatter you into a million smaller pieces as soon as I fall asleep tonight!”

[imaginejamesandsirius]

Hiya!! Sorry to bother but I was wondering if you could do a fic where james comes back to life and he (james) and Sirius have a cute little meet up in front of the order of the Phoenix again sorry to bother hope you have a wonderful day/afternoon/night 👋👋

James was practically bouncing in place. He was like a toddler, tugging on Remus's sleeve because he wanted to "-go already, Moony! It's been ages." Without the war, this was exactly what James had been like when he was excited. That this was about going to see Sirius made it even worse than usual-- although Remus remembered James acting almost exactly like this the last time they'd gone to Diagon Alley together and he'd wanted ice cream. "Come on, come on, come on! We're wasting time, let's go." 

"James, for Merlin's sake, you're twenty, not two. Bloody calm down and let me talk." 

James pouted. Honestly. Stuck out his bottom lip, the corners of his mouth turned down. "I'm twenty one," he muttered petulantly. Then he brightened. "How about you finish here, and I go see Sirius?" 

"I'm afraid we can't allow that Mister Potter," the Unspeakable said, and Remus could've told him it was a bad idea to tell James what he could and could not do-- especially when it came to Sirius-- and that was even before James started to glare. 

"It'll only take a minute, right?" Remus hurried to ask. 

The Unspeakable glanced at James, Remus, James, then back to Remus again. "I... can do a quick scan, but he'll have to come back tomorrow for further tests." 

"What kind of tests?" James asked defensively. 

"Nothing invasive. We're not planning on experimenting on you, Mister Potter, but we need to ascertain what happened and if it will reverse itself." 

"Reverse itself?" Remus repeated, stomach sinking. "You mean he could vanish?" 

"Unlikely, but possible," the Unspeakable admitted. "You can understand why we'd want to run tests to be sure. You're the first person to come out of the Veil. We need to know how being dead has effected you and if this will happen again." 

James wanted to say no and then skip away, but he knew that it would rip everyone in two if he started to settle in and then vanished. "Fine. But can't we do that tomorrow? I'm alive right now, and that's good enough for me." 

"We can do most of it tomorrow, but if this is timed, we need to learn as much as we can." 

James bit back a reply and gave a tight nod. If this was timed, he wanted to see Sirius again. Hug him. Remind him that he loved him. Maybe kiss him again if he had the time, but it was surprisingly hard to kiss someone when they were hugging you like their life depended on it-- a situation he had plenty of time experiencing where Sirius was concerned. Not that James minded the hugging. It was quite nice. Sometimes he wanted to kiss Sirius, and he didn't always get what he wanted, which was a damned shame in his opinion. "You're staying, right Remus?" 

"'Course. You want everyone else to leave?" Most people had gone back to Grimmauld, but a few had hung around to make sure that everything with James would be okay. 

"They don't need to stay," he said, which was good enough as a wave goodbye. He wasn't going to kick them out, but he also didn't need them to stay the way that he needed Remus to. 

"Alright. Give me a second. I'll be right back." He gave James's arm a comforting squeeze, then walked over to where Kingsley and Dora were standing. It had made the most sense for them to stick around since they were Aurors, but it had been a long day for everyone that had shown up to help. They probably weren't going to get any rest when they headed to Grimmauld Place, but it would be easier than standing vigil here. "Me and James are going to stay here for a little bit while they run some tests," Remus said in an undertone. "It shouldn't take too long, so you can go back to headquarters." He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment then said, "The others might have told Sirius, but can you make sure that he knows? It's really James, he's alive, all that?" 

Kingsley nodded, clapping him on the shoulder. 

"Thanks." He gave a slightly awkward nod to Dora, then he went back to James and they left. 

*

"I still can't believe Sirius is a fugitive," James said, walking so fast to the Ministry's exit that Remus had to jog to keep up with him. 

"I don't see what's so hard to understand about it," Remus said. "He thought that Pettigrew had killed you. By all accounts-" including Sirius's own "-he'd gone mad with grief." He wouldn't have been surprised if Sirius had been guilty of it, but he knew better than to say that aloud; he was pretty sure that James would punch him. "When you see him, maybe don't lead with that." 

"Fear not, my dear Moons. Talking about him not being able to leave the house is over half an hour into the conversation." 

"Is the first twenty minutes just you two gushing over each other?" It had driven him batty while they were at Hogwarts, but his heart was light imagining it now. The Unspeakables had tentatively given James a stamp of approval, saying that it looked like he was here to stay-- albeit fourteen years or so younger than he should've been. 

"Maybe. There's no telling. It all sort of depends on how tired he is. Do you think he'll be tired?" 

"I think he'd stay up for the next forty-eight hours straight to talk to you if you asked him to." 

"That is so not the point." James knew that Sirius would stay up if he asked, but that wouldn't make Sirius any less tired. James had fifty different things he wanted to do with Sirius, and almost none of them would work if they went to sleep right after he got there. 

"It was my point," Remus muttered. 

"You're grumpy now. Is Sirius as grumpy as you are?" 

"Worse." 

James sniffed, turning his nose into the air as they walked. He had this innate confidence about him that Remus had nearly forgotten about, but it was glaringly obvious now that he was back. He'd been declared dead over ten years ago, and now he was alive again, walking through the halls of the Ministry like he owned the place-- given the historical wealth of the Potter family, maybe he did own part of it. "Liar." 

"Are you going to say that for everything I tell you about him?" 

James considered this. "Yes." They made it to the floo and hopped in-- James had been let in on the secret for the Fidelius half an hour ago when Dumbledore visited them before going back to Grimmauld to be with the rest of the Order (he'd also told them that the kids were in bed, which Remus felt was a good thing as James wasn't going to be likely to entertain anyone at all with Sirius in the room even if the person wanting attention was his own son). 

James had gone through first, and when Remus came out, he saw James carelessly dusting the ash off of himself and looking around like he expected for Sirius to pop out of the floor. Honestly, it wouldn't have surprised Remus if Sirius managed to make it happen. He'd always done things like that: break the normal rules for what was possible just to make James smile When James didn't see him, he turned to Remus. "Where is he?" 

"Dining room, probably." 

"Probably?" James repeated, disgruntled that he wasn't certain. He took off in the right direction, which confirmed Remus's suspicions that James had visited Sirius at his over the summer when they were young. "You shouldn't be guessing; you should know." 

"How should I know? I was with you the whole time." 

There wasn't a good reply to that since he was right. "Hmph." He pushed open the dining room door, then slowed to a halt when he saw Sirius. The room quieted when they entered, and when Remus glanced at James, he was grinning. 

Sirius had been told that James was alive. He knew for a fact that this was really James, and surely that's what they'd been talking about when James and Remus walked in. He should've been prepared for it, but it was obvious from the look on his face that he hadn't dared believe it was true. He was frozen where he was sat at the table, and James didn't let that bother him at all. He strode over and plopped in his lap, hugging him tightly. "Merlin, I missed you so much. Did you know that Moony is still grumpy?" 

"Yeah," Sirius said numbly. "I think it's because he refuses to eat chocolates." 

"Still? I guess there's no getting through to some people." James pulled back enough to look at his face. He had no problem admitting that he got a little misty-eyed. "Look at you," he whispered. Sirius had went and gotten older without him. James had missed so much. "You let your hair grow out." 

"Yeah," Sirius said again, slightly choked. "You always thought I should." 

James's smile widened. "Obviously. It's called having taste, Sirius." 

Sirius pulled him back into a hug, holding onto him so tightly it had to hurt. "I missed you so bloody much," he whispered. 

"So are the rest of us here right now, or...?" Bill asked, a small smile on his mouth. 

"Hi, hello, nice to see you all again," James said, not budging an inch. 

*

"Are they always like that?" Harry asked lowly. By the stove, James and Sirius were moving like they were two bodies with the same mind. Touching, teasing, laughing. Sirius looked lighter than he had since getting out of Azkaban. 

Remus smiled at the sight. "Yes." 

James grabbed Sirius for a quick kiss, and then they were back to making muffins. 

"No one told me they were together," Harry said. He didn't sound upset by it, necessarily, just a little thrown. Surprised. 

"They were. They are," he added after a moment. "It was complicated back then. Honestly Harry, I sort of forgot that you didn't know. It's..." he gestured at the pair, "obvious. I think we all forgot that you wouldn't have known on your own." 

Harry hummed, tilting his head a little as he looked at them. "I've never seen Sirius so happy." 

"It's been a long time since he was this happy." 

"Since before Dad died?" Harry guessed, and Remus nodded. 

"I don't think you're supposed to add the butter in yet," James said, peering into the bowl. 

"The recipe said to add the butter after the sugar." 

"Yeah, but it was supposed to all be mixed by then." 

"Are you sure?" Sirius asked, bumping their hips together. 

"Well. Pretty sure." James looked to Remus and Harry, who startled a bit. They'd both thought that their presence had been forgotten as they got wrapped up in each other. "Either of you know?" 

"What happened to 'get the hell out of our way, Moony'?" Remus asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"We're not asking you to get in the way; we're asking if you know what the recipe means. There's a difference." 

Harry, the little traitor, snickered. "I think the butter's supposed to go in after it's all mixed," he offered. 

"Ah bugger," Sirius said, looking into the bowl. He looked up at James, and their eyes locked. There was a wealth of information that passed between them in that instant, and they both shrugged. "Too late now." He went back to stirring. 

[arcticdementor]

In September of 2020, I published a book entitled The Stakes. It was billed as a “current events” or election-year title. The election behind us, the candidate I recommended is no longer president. But the analysis which led me to that recommendation is very much still “current.”

To recap briefly (but read the whole thing!), the book explains how every prominent and powerful American institution, including the federal government, has been taken over by a hostile elite who use their vast powers to attack, despoil, and insult about half the nation. In the sixth chapter (excerpted here), I outline what I think America will look like if the present ruling class refuses to moderate, cannot be forced to share power, and has the wherewithal to keep its regime going. In the seventh chapter, I sketch several possibilities—from secession to Caesarism to collapse—that might result if it turns out that our overlords are a lot less competent than they think. And in the final chapter (excerpted here), I offer policy and other ideas that might enable America to avoid those fates.

That chapter (from which this essay is adapted) culminated with a proposal now being talked about widely, namely, to allow counties, cities, and towns unhappy with their current state government to join another. This would be a practical, and practicable, way to ease Blue and Red Americans’ present discontent and exasperation with each other.

There are precedents. The counties that became Maine split from Massachusetts in 1820, and—more famously—those that became West Virginia left Virginia during the Civil War. Fittingly, when I wrote the chapter, West Virginia had generously offered to welcome western Virginia counties unhappy with rule from newly, aggressively Blue Richmond. Today, a year later, West Virginia’s governor says the offer still stands.

There are similar movements throughout the country—most, though not all, driven by disaffected Reds. The most recent, news-making example was five Oregon counties joining two others in voting to leave the Beaver State and become part of Idaho.

So far nothing has come of any of this. But why shouldn’t these efforts be allowed to proceed if both the welcoming state and the exiting counties want it? Wouldn’t that be “democracy”?

…

Classical philosophers and historians alike condemn democracy as a bad form of government, in part because of its partiality but mostly because of the specific nature of the demos, which they contend is the polis’s least wise and least moderate part.

I would here add that it’s both sad and hilarious to see classically-trained academics and intellectuals bleat on about the sanctity of “democracy.” The worst offenders are the Straussians, who really should know better. Haven’t we all read Republic VIII and Politics VI, to say nothing of the warnings from Strauss himself on the dangers and shortcomings of democracy? Their failure as analysts is worse. The present American regime that they celebrate as “our democracy” is all but identical to classical oligarchy (discussed in those same books) while the “populism” that gives them the vapors is much closer to the democracy they claim to revere. But even more embarrassing, the Straussians’ central boast is to stand above, in Olympian detachment and even disdain, all regime pieties and see through them as self-serving rationalizations. Yet when extolling “democracy,” they sound no different than an Assistant Secretary of State, foundation president, or CNN host.

…

States such as California, Colorado, Illinois, New York, and now Virginia are utterly dominated by one party, and often one city, which amounts to the same thing. This is how Virginia—cradle of the American Revolution and home to four of our first five presidents—suddenly, just like that, became implacably hostile to the first two amendments to the United States Constitution. Five cities and counties, three adjacent to Washington, D.C., essentially dictate to the other 128.

The uncomprehending angst of people who’ve lived the same way, in the same places, for generations suddenly finding themselves harassed by a hostile government—ostensibly “theirs”—is mocked by the ruling class as a lament over “lost privilege.” After Virginia flipped from purple to Blue in 2019, the state legislature immediately enacted draconian gun restrictions that flew in the face of centuries of tradition and peaceful practice. Too bad! You lost! That’s “democracy.” As Joel Kotkin has remarked, “The worst thing in the world to be is the Red part of a Blue state.”

We should not, however, give the powers-that-be too much credit for principled consistency. If and when popular majorities produce outcomes the rulers don’t like, their devotion to “democracy” instantly evaporates. Judges, administrative state agencies, private companies—whichever is most able in the moment to overturn the will of unruly voters—will intervene to restore ruling class diktats. On the other hand, when voters can be counted on to vote the right way, then voting becomes the necessary and sufficient step for sanctifying any political outcome. It doesn’t even matter where the votes (or voters) come from, so long as they vote the right way. The fact that they vote the right way is sufficient to justify and even ennoble their participation in “our democracy.”

Blues perpetually outvoting Reds and ruling unopposed: this, and only this, is what “democracy” means today.

Bad Faith Objections

Reds, increasingly, are catching on. They know the game is rigged, that they cannot win, and the veneer of their participation and consent is a sham.

This is why the gaslighting is being dialed up to the lumen levels of blue stars. Every objection to Blue despoilation is now openly ascribed to “white supremacy.” Don’t want to be late for work because regime-favored thugs “protesters” are illegally blocking an intersection? White supremacy! Object to being beaten on the streets? White supremacy! Want to see the laws enforced equally and impartially? White supremacy!

Obviously, nothing is more susceptible to this dread charge than calls for “secession.” Hence the entirely apples-to-oranges cases of redrawing state lines better to reflect residents’ preferences and interests will be—already is being—compared to the events of 1860-61.

…

Some opponents of Red attempts to leave Blue states will disingenuously point to Lincoln’s first inaugural address, the ne plus ultra anti-secession argument. But there Lincoln was talking about replacing ballots with bullets throughout a sovereign state—overturning not merely the outcome of one election but the form of government itself. The peaceful rearrangement of political and administrative boundaries within a sovereign state is an entirely different act, with far lesser—and less grave—consequences. Indeed, in the latter case the consequences may be entirely salutary: there is ample precedent in history and around the world of countries redrawing internal lines to suit shifts in population and interests.

Others will try to muddy the waters by facilely equating the peculiarly American use of the word “state” for our 50 regional governments with the far more common meaning of state as “sovereign and independent country.” Lincoln said secession was unlawful, unconstitutional, and immoral—but this hypocrite Anton who claims to be a Lincolnite is endorsing the very practice! The argument is false and will be offered in bad faith. If you wish to waste a moment of your time, which I don’t recommend, remind such liars that the anti-secessionist Lincoln not only supported but presided over the division of Virginia. The decisive point is that this proposal is here proffered for precisely Lincolnite reasons: to save the Union and keep the current territory and population of the United States together.

…

Article IV, Section 3 states that “no new State shall be formed or erected within the Jurisdiction of any other State; nor any State be formed by the Junction of two or more States, or Parts of States, without the Consent of the Legislatures of the States concerned as well as of the Congress.”

In the Maine and West Virginia cases, new states were formed, hence the legislatures of the original and prospective states, plus the Congress, had to consent. (In the case of Virginia, then in rebellion against the government of the United States, two competing state governments existed. The Unionist government, recognized by the federal government, voted to allow the separation.)

The Constitution is, however, silent on the question of transferring a county from one state to another. No doubt should rural Virginia counties seek to join Charleston, Richmond wouldn’t like it—all that lost tax revenue! Look how many fewer people to boss around! Fewer Electoral votes!

But, constitutionally speaking, the state government’s power to stop it would be dubious. As would, if we want to speculate along such lines, the means. It could, and almost certainly would, take the issue to federal court where, admittedly, any outcome is possible regardless of law, and any outcome favorable to Red interests extremely unlikely. There’s little question that a Blue state capital could easily join with the federal judiciary and the Biden administration to block any such action. That may or may not be “constitutional” as you and I understand the term, but we don’t rule.

Or suppose we interpret Article IV, Section 3 to mean that moving just one county from one state to another constitutes creating a “new state.” That makes things harder, but hardly impossible. It simply means that legislative victories would have to be won. That may seem impossible now; no empire ever seeks to become smaller. But, dare I say, the election of Donald Trump seemed impossible as late as 9 p.m. on November 3rd, 2016. Public opinion is changing fast. Reds, who’ve put up with a lot only to face repeated demands that they put up with even more, are getting fed up.

Not only do they get nothing but abuse from the political system, increasingly they don’t even get to talk. Any dissent against regime ideology is swiftly and ruthlessly censored on Blue media platforms, which is to say, all of them. Reds’ elected leaders (to the extent that they have any) are declared “domestic enemies” by the Speaker of the House. Blue wise men talk of “cleansing” Reds from the political system. Nils Gilman—a man who called for my death—declaimed that “These people need to be extirpated from politics.” To have no say and no voice, forever, means that one’s only option is exit.

It would be an act of magnanimity, and even self-interest, for a sufficient number of Blues to recognize Red concerns and let the state-county reorganization proceed. Right now, at least half of Red America feels trapped in an abusive marriage, endlessly told they’re worthless, racist, and evil—but also that under no circumstances may they even broach the topic of leaving. Stay and take your deserved punishment is Blue America’s constant message to Red, the political philosophy of Judge Smails: You’ll get nothing and like it.

Besides, as Blues never tire of reminding us, aren’t we Reds poor, weak, and dumb? Who wants such dross as fellow citizens? Imagine (say) Virginia’s glorious future without all those retrograde hicks getting in the way of NoVa’s progressive utopian vision.

If Blues cannot see their way to letting such peaceful means proceed as a way of improving civic harmony and extending the life of the republic, they’re placing a giant bet that they can, through sheer brute force, rule Reds forever. Can they? They’d also be admitting that, in New America, “democracy” just means Blues outvoting Reds, effectively nullifying their franchise.

…

It’s worth pointing out, in this context, the utter hypocrisy of Blues who cry “Jeff Davis!” at the mere suggestion of some rural counties in a Blue State seeking refuge with fellow Reds, which almost certainly would not change the composition of the Senate, but who blithely demand that D.C. and Puerto Rico be made states so the Democrats can get four extra Senators and (likely) four more Electoral votes.

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter thirty two: last christmas in new york

Sam never had her meeting with Bill at any given time during that following week. The whole entire time she had expected him to linger there over her shoulder as she drew up with pencils, colored and pure graphite otherwise, while in class. While she was relieved that he never did once show up, she still wondered what he had in mind for that summer and the months following.

There came a point in which she hoped that it would only be for that single summer and not the rest of the year. She knew that it was ridiculous to assume such a thing, and yet she still managed to think ahead. She had hope in Anthrax's new album for that coming year and that she and Joey could in fact take things to the next level. So much more that she needed to figure out with him in particular.

Even with the arrival of late October and the first freezing rains of the season, Sam couldn't help but feel that it would be her last autumn in New York, and ultimately her last Halloween there: all the spooky decorations and the fleeting scent of cinnamon in the air made her wish for those first days in the city again, even when she still lived in the Bronx. The smell of cinnamon made her think of Cliff as well. The smell of Christmas and home.

If it really was that significant of a task for her to carry out, then she knew that she would have to spend a great deal of time out there. And yet, the more thought she put into it, the more it felt so ludicrous to her. But then again, home called her with each passing day. Even with the midst of October, the days of the term seemed to drag by, not just for her but for Marla as well, who had come home every day from school looking as though she had run a mile at some point during the day.

Hardly enough time to relish in the rest of her time with one of her best friends, or in New York City. All both young women could do following their work was have dinner and then curl up under the covers with a book to read or with Genie curled up next to them. The very thing they had worked for and the very thing that made both of them head out to school had found its way into the realm of tedium. Sam lay in bed with her eye on her art journals and she wondered where it was all going wrong. A time away from the journals and the art desk, and she could return with a fresh approach.

Of course!

That was also the day she finally found that little bit of curiosity for some insight into it all, given Bill never showed up one time during her classes. Add to this, she thought of something else she had to figure out with Marla in particular. It was right after school and Marla herself had come home early in order to work on her own senior project. Sam knocked on her door and she peered over her shoulder at her. She nudged the door open and stepped inside.

“Hey,” Marla called to her; she swiveled around on her stool and in turn showed Sam the trio of drawings on her desk as well as the look of exhaustion on her face.

“Hey,” Sam replied back to her.

“What's happening?”

“I'm just curious about your own senior project—I also have to confess something. And I don't know who else to say this to—I mean, I haven't spoken to Aurora since Alex's birthday party last month, and we barely spoke to.”

“Yeah, and she made it about herself, too.”

“Right! Add to this, Bel's still at school and the boys are over in Europe right now. So you are literally the only person I can talk to about any this at the moment.”

“Go ahead,” said Marla with a shake of her head.

“Well,” Sam began, and she cleared her throat as well, “I'm not a liar, I'm not gonna lie to you, Marla, but... I'm kind of tired of this whole thing.”

Marla sighed through her nose and she tapped the eraser of her pencil on the inclined desk surface for a bit, and then she nodded her head. She let her eyes wander over to the desk next to her. Those drawings, those bare drawings that seemed to taunt both of them. Those drawings without any sort of feeling to them: they looked as though they hadn't been crafted by a human woman but by a machine.

“You wanna know something—I am, too,” she said in a low voice. She then turned her head back to Sam. “Hey, at least you get a trip out to California and you get to go see your parents again. I don't have a clue what I'm gonna do next year. At least Bel has an idea what she'll be doing: she's gonna be working in a glass shop up in Albany, but I have no idea about myself, though.”

“You and Genie, too,” Sam added.

“Right!”

Sam folded her arms across her chest. “Bel's going up to Albany, really?”

“Oh, yeah. She told me this—today actually—once school is out for the both of us, she's packing it up and bouncing up there. My best friend is actually going to move away from me.”

“Well, at least she's just going up the road, though,” Sam pointed out. “You know, she's not going—clear across the country.”

Marla sighed through her nose. One of their own was about to leave sooner than Sam, and then she would have to leave; Marla's eyes swept back over the pages on the desk next to her. If art brought her hands to that of a machine, then therein lay a dead end for her, and Sam had the impulse to call up Bill and tell him about it. But then again, they were a year apart. Whatever Marla had to do for herself was far different from that which awaited her the next summer.

“Can I at least see what it's supposed to encapsulate?” she asked her at one point. Marla then gave her cherry red hair a light toss back with a flick of her head.

“Yeah—Mrs. Robinson gave me what to do like the first day of school—which really makes me wonder what Bill has in store for you if he's telling you about it now. I have to fill out this journal—” She set her hand on a brown hard cover journal to the left of her. “—plus make a whole series of drawings, three of them erotic and three of them far more chaste. She told me she wants it to be in the realm of 'yin' and 'yang', like opposites of each other. The meeting of sexuality without it. She described it as like the human experience. Neither side understands the point of the other, although I'm not sure as to how to bring the chaste side to life, you know without being too on the nose with it.”

“Right, right.” Sam paused for a second as she thought about her encounters with Joey; even though Marla couldn't hardly relate to the chaste side of life, she definitely could. “So—is that it?”

“Oh, wait, hang on—she gave me this note before I came home earlier.” She picked up a little sheet of paper stuck onto the corner of the desk. “It says 'Miss Taylor, be sure to tell Miss Grimes to write up letters of recommendation for the pending masters and doctorates.'” She waved the paper about as if it meant nothing. “Yeah, another part of the whole thing is Bel and I have to write up letters of recommendation for a few of our classmates who are going onto to get their master's or doctorate degrees.”

Marla then turned to Sam with her eyebrows raised. “Hey, there's an idea for you. Get your master's. He'll have to take you back home at some point because of that. The only drawback I see with that is everything I've heard about both levels of degree are a lot of work. And I mean, a lot of work. You think we're burnt out right now? That's a whole other can of beans—at least from what I'm told about it.”

“Well, if that's just what a senior project is supposed to be, then it kind of makes me wonder exactly awaits me out in California.”

“I have no clue what he's supposed to give you,” Marla confessed to her with a shake of her head. The cherry red roots of her hair began to fade away in their boldness and into her original plain brown color.

“Hey, look at that—it's time to dye your hair again,” Sam pointed out with a nod of her head.

“Yeah, I know.” Marla patted the crown of her head. “I just haven't decided on what color I want next.”

“I'm telling ya: different colors, like a bunch of stripes.”

Marla chuckled at that. “Stripes, like one is black and the next is a muted tone and then a glossy neon one?”

“Yeah!”

“I dunno, Sam,” she confessed with a shake of her head, “—that's a lot of work. Like, that is a lot of work. Remember that metallic sheen I had that one time, you know the one where it looked as though my hair was changing colors? That took like a whole afternoon to do because it was hard on my neck and there was a lot of layering involved, too. I mean, just one color takes a whole couple of hours to do. I'm still surprised Charlie was able to keep it neat—like he didn't make this huge mess in the bathroom.”

“Well, there's always doing a single stripe,” Sam pointed out. “Like you can dye your hair solid black and then add a tiny sliver near the crown of your head.”

“Kind of like Alex's hair?”

“Yeah! Except you should make your stripe like bright pink or blue instead of gray.”

“Like neon colored?” Marla smiled.

“Yeah! I can help you with that, too.”

“It's not hard. Yeah, it's one of those things where it's not hard but it's just—time consuming. You don't just dye your hair willy nilly: you have to set time aside to do it. And it also takes work to pull off right because it can just make a mess or not show up at all. One of the things I learned about dyeing dark hair a weird color like blue or pink or even blonde is you have to bleach it before hand and I remember the first time that happened, too. The first time I bleached my hair and I thought 'I'm never doing that again.' Like right after that, I dyed my hair that bright tangerine orange and with those streaks on the side of my head. Remember that?”

“The first time we met each other!” Sam exclaimed. “I liked you with orange hair.”

“I liked it, too. And I liked those little streaks I had, too, because they were odd. And everyone knew me not as 'Charlie's girl' but as 'the girl with the bitchin' hair.'”

“I liked you with purple hair, too.”

“Bel really liked the purple, and so did Danny Lilker. During the Stormtroopers of Death tour, the first time he saw the purple hair on me, it was like one of those cartoon wolves when they see a foxy girl.”

“Did he howl?” Sam laughed.

“He may as well have!”

“But ever since then, you just layered the colors on top of each other.”

“Yeah. This cherry tomato color was done right on top of that metallic hairdo I had, so because of that, it's due for a redo anyways. Which means if I'm going to a weird color again like blue or pink, even if it's just a little Alex Skolnick or Dale Bozzio type streak at the front of my head, I have to bleach it no matter. And you gotta help me with it, too. The first time I did it Charlie helped me and I'm glad he did, too.”

“Well—where are you right now with your senior project?” Sam asked her.

“I've been wanting a break,” she confessed. “And it's still early, too.” She then nibbled on her bottom lip. “I'm gonna have to go out and get hair dye, though.”

“You can go blonde for a little bit, though,” Sam pointed out.

“I don't look right with blonde hair,” Marla told her. “It's too sharp of a contrast with my eyes. I'll show you what I mean once we get it. And the first time around it itched like crazy, even when I had washed it all out and tried to make it all nice. I can see people confusing me for Bel, too.” She paused for a minute and then she snapped her fingers. “Tell you what. We can bleach my hair and then I can wash it out real good, and while I'm in the shower, you can run on down the block here and get some black and bright blue hair dye for me.”

“You want blue?”

“Yeah. I think that's a good color to work with now. Either that or green, like bright green. I know I've changed hair colors before school terms ended, but I'm feeling it right now. I'm due for dyeing. I'm ready to dye.”

Without another word, Sam and Marla headed into the bathroom with a bottle of powder bleach, some toner, and a shower cap: there was a pair of rubber gloves in the drawer. Marla held still as Sam mixed the powder and toner in the container right next to her. She would pour the bleach over her head while she lay her neck across in the edge of the bathtub: it was either that or lay down in the sink.

“Charlie suggested that, too,” Marla recalled before she lay down, ��and I was like, 'I think that's going to make a huge mess, though, Char.' So kudos to you for helping me lay down in the tub.”

“So once it's mixed together, I just work it into your hair?”

“Yeah, you start from the tips and then work your way up to the top of my head—”

Sam leaned forward for the first piece of hair down in the tub and scrubbed the bleach mixture in. It took some time, but she eventually reached Marla's scalp. She had closed her eyes once Sam reached the crown of her head: the entirety of her hair had been laced with something that made Sam think of bubble bath. Meanwhile, pieces of cherry red hair dye bled off of her hair, such that it resembled to blood.

“How're you feeling?” she asked her.

“Okay. Kinda itchy, though.”

“Ooh—damn.”

“It's okay. It's part of the process, getting rid of the color in the keratin. So now—where are you?”

“I'm at the top of your head.”

Marla then opened her eyes.

“You got the shower cap on hand?”

“Right here.” Sam gestured to the shower cap on the edge of the tub next to her. She hesitated to pick it up for her given the bleach concoction on the gloves; thus Marla slipped it under her hair.

“Help me out here—”

Sam stuck stray strands of hair into the cap so they all would stay in place on Marla's head. Within a matter of seconds, Marla herself had the cap upon her head.

“So I just let it sit for a bit and then I wash it out under the shower. And then we can color it in with the black and blue hair dye.”

Sam then took off the gloves and washed her hands, and headed out for two bottles of hair dye, one black and one neon blue. All the while, she pictured Alex with that same hair color scheme, that beautiful bright neon blue in lieu of the gray over his brow. She thought about the way he would dye his hair, with that rich jet black hair dye as it blanketed over that little cluster of gray hairs. The more she thought about it, the more hilarious it seemed to her, in how he could cover up a small piece of his hair with black dye. It was an odd little part of him, something that aged him even as he still stayed young, and thus he seemed so timeless to her.

His trademark.

And Joey had those deep black curls piled atop his head and the dark venom that made up his brown eyes.

Within time, she returned to the apartment right as Marla stuck her head under the shower head and washed out the bleach powder from her hair. Sam took her seat on the arm of the couch right next to Genie, who had curled up in her usual spot at the top. She could hear the water dripping from the shower down the hall, but soon enough, the pipes fell quiet and Marla rung out her hair. More silence, and then she surfaced from the bathroom with a towel on her head.

“Here, let me show you what I meant by that,” she told her, and she unfurled the towel from her wet hair. Bleached and pale yellow, such that it made her eyes appear deeper and more voluminous than before, and it washed out her already milky complexion to an even more pale color.

“Wow—you look—possessed,” Sam sputtered out. “Like you're about to take me down to the depths of hell.

“Charlie told me I looked like Johnny Winter when we first did it, but 'possessed' is more like it, though. Anyways, you got the dye?”

“Yup! Right here.”

Sam handed Marla the bottles of black and neon blue hair dye, and she joined her once again for a bit of help. Once again, Marla let the dye sit in her hair for a bit before she washed it out under the shower's head. Come dinner time, she had a head of jet black hair accompanied with an electric blue streak at the top of her head.

“Stylin',” Sam remarked as she disposed of the shower cap; she thought of the mysterious man in her dreams and the ever changing streak in his hair. It was right then that Lars burst into her mind: maybe it was the sight of Marla's eyes having been far more prominent than before she colored her hair blonde for a bit, or maybe it was her helping out Marla with the hair dye, but she thought about how he encouraged her to be more assertive, especially with the boys not around. A break away from the tedium and she was able to find something within herself that could prove to be helpful; or maybe it came from living on her own for a few years that helped her be more of that nature.

Indeed, the next day at school, everyone in the hallways flashed Marla a thumbs up or an eager nod at her new black hair. Before they headed into their drawing class for the morning, Sam heard someone calling her name right behind her. She turned her head and there was Bill running towards her.

“Miss Shelley? A word?”

She returned to Marla.

“I'll meet up with you in a second,” she told her.

A part of her wanted to ask him, “what took you so long?” but alas, she stopped herself in her tracks and they hung off to the side next to the classroom door.

“What's going on?” she asked him.

“I should tell you that it has been confirmed now. You are coming with me out to California for your senior project.”

“I have a couple of questions about that,” she started as Lars returned to her mind once again.

“Go ahead.”

“First off, what am I going to do out there? Second, what if I wanted to get my master's degree?”

“Well, what I am going to give you for it won't be available until we get out there. And next, our master's program here works by way of signing up for it and beginning on your dissertation over the summer.”

“Oh, I see.” Her heart sank at that. “So—when do we go?”

“We head on out to the Golden State on the thirty first of July, and you begin your project on the fourth of August. I'm going to need you to sign some paperwork at some point so it's confirmed that you are in fact with me there.”

He stuck out his hand for her to shake, and even though she took it, an uneasy feeling emerged in the pit of her stomach and inside of her chest. Her fate was sealed right then. In two months' time, she had to relish every second she had with Joey over Christmas break. Their last one together.

She had to give him what she couldn't give to Cliff in their final Christmas together in the two years before. Two years ago she and Cliff spent Christmas at her parents' house! Two Christmases without him. After class, she told Marla about it, who almost fainted when she learned of the exact date of it all. She then told Belinda, who cupped her hands to her mouth to keep herself from doing anything drastic, and then she threw her arms around Sam.

“It's okay, Bel,” she sputtered from her tight grip, “—it's not like I'm leaving right now or even next week. It's the middle of next summer. It's still a ways off.”

“But you're still leaving us, though!” Belinda exclaimed with a break in her voice.

“She's leaving me, especially,” Marla joined in as she brushed away some tears.

“I just wonder how Aurora's gonna react to this,” Sam confessed. “I haven't spoken to her since Alex's birthday.”

“I saw her just yesterday, actually,” Belinda told her. “She and Emile were shopping for baby clothes. She's not showing, though, so part of me feels like she's faking it.”

“Understand, she's barely two months along, Bel,” Marla pointed out. “She will be eventually, though.”

Sam kept her eye on the look of disappointment on Marla's face as she said that, and she was disappointed, too. Aurora had gotten married and let it all go straight to her head: she could shake her head at Joey's antics to Alex all she wanted, but it was Aurora who hadn't thanked Alex for being in her wedding, and she made his special day all about herself. At the same time, she had no other means of coming in touch with Aurora, either. She had moved clear over to Long Island with Emile and with her packed schedule in school, there simply was no way for Sam to clear the air with her, her initial best friend.

As the days grew darker, and the rain froze over into ice followed by sleet and snow, so too did her wish to leave start a fresh new chapter in life. Granted, her move to New York proved to be a new chapter in and of itself, but the more she thought about it, the more she felt her travels out to California could serve as the next one. She was about to leave home for home again, but she had to finish the first arc before she moved onto the next one, and that was spending one good Christmas with Joey.

Winter came with a firm, vengeful grip on the Northeast come finals week and the middle of December, such that the snows blanketed everything to where it felt like they could bury everyone there alive. By the last day of school, Sam had signed the paperwork that Bill had left for her and thus, her fate had been sealed for the next summer. So caught up between both sides but the whole thing was inevitable.

She sat down on the edge of her bed, right next to Genie, with a cup of Mexican hot chocolate in hand, complete with the little marshmallows. Perhaps, even though it would be the summer time, she could teach her mother how to make Mexican hot chocolate, just like the kind she made for Cliff that morning.

She glanced down at Genie and that soft black fur. Careful not to wake her, she petted her head and her back. Genie never moved; instead, she gave her a soft purr. She hoped that she could take another photograph, that one of Genie for her parents to see for themselves when she got to see them again.

She sipped on her hot chocolate when there was a knock on the door.

“I'll get it,” Marla called out.

Another sip and then—

“Hey, Joey!”

“Mm, Joey's here?”

“Yeah! Frankie is, too!”

Her two best friends, back to her for one more Christmas in New York. Sam set down the cup on her desk and then she headed back into the front room.

Joey's eyes never looked so brighter than they had before then, even with the look of fatigue upon his face. His black curls stood on every which end atop his head.

“Holy fuck, that was a long flight,” he declared as part of his greeting; the fatigue in his voice meant it had been a grueling stint of the tour. Meanwhile, Frank stumbled into the apartment as well. He let out a long low whistle and then he spotted Sam in the hallway.

“There's our girl!” he proclaimed with his arms outstretched for her. Sam lunged for Frank first. If anything, he was her best friend. Her first real best friend there in New York, and she knew he would be in that position no matter where she went in the world. How she missed the soft musk on the side of his neck and the softest part of his lush black hair.

She then turned to Joey for an embrace as well, and he followed it up with a kiss on the side of her neck. He then held back and gazed right into her eyes.

As brown as the earth, but strangely liquid, as if he was about to burst into tears.

“How is everything?” Marla asked them as she rubbed her hands together.

“Yeah, how was the tour?” Sam joined in.

“Oh, my god, I wish you girls were with us,” Frank confessed. “Those European crowds are—crazy. Just insane. You thought the crowd in Boston was nuts—the crowd in Boston was like a graveyard compared to the people in Germany and Switzerland.”

“They are so passionate, though,” Joey added. “Like Frankie and I met some people before a few of the shows and they're just obsessed with the music.”

“The girls, too!” Frank declared.

“Oh, yeah, they were just ape shit about the Cherry Suicides, too. I think we were in Ireland? They did that song 'Dead Witches' where Zelda just goes crazy on the drums.”

“Yeah, it was Northern Ireland, Joey,” Frank said. “I remember 'cause that was Halloween night. They stretched the song to like twenty minutes, like Minerva just unleashed this huge solo.”

“They played it for like twenty minutes in Oslo and Sweden, too,” Joey added. “Like Minerva was wearin' this little Viking helmet as she did it, too, it was just the coolest thing. Hardcore punk rock made by a black Viking, dare I say.”

“Oh, and the guys loved them,” Frank recalled.

“Who, the Swedes or the Norwegians?”

“Both. Both crowds were just in awe of those girls.” He cleared his throat; he, too, had his fill of touring for the time being.

“Yeah, the Irish weren't too sure of them at first, but they warmed up to 'em pretty well, though. The Scandinavians, it was like instant love there. Kinda makes you wonder what's going on up there.”

“And I'm surprised Zelda doesn't have like giant tree trunks for calves,” Frank joked. “She basically hasn't taken off those duct tape boots Chuck gave her.”

“Although we also performed a few dates here in the States,” Joey continued, “there was just no way we could come in contact with you girls 'cause we were like manically hoppin' around the place. We finished up in Dallas just yesterday, and I am just bushed right now.”

“Wow,” Sam breathed out, “where is Zelda, by the way?”

“Oh, they went back to Rhode Island already,” Frank told her. “Although Joey has sump'n for ya in his car downstairs.”

“Yeah.” Joey showed her that crooked smile and Sam followed him outside, to the cold gray blanket overhead and the thick layer of pure white snow all around them.

His car parked there at the curb, and Sam could make out the sight of something in the back seat.

“So for the last few dates of the tour,” he began over the noise of the street, “I realized that—this is gonna be our last holiday break together.”

“And it's confirmed now,” she told him as they stood before the side of the car.

“It's confirmed!” he exclaimed and he gaped at her.

“It's confirmed. I leave July thirty first.”

Joey swallowed, and Sam could see the tears in his eyes.

“I should tell you this then,” he started as he tucked his hands into his coat pockets.

“What?”

He lingered closer to her body. “I cherish every moment I have with you, Sam,” Joey told her. “I know I can lose you.”

She peered up to the sky, at the first little flurries of snow as it fluttered down from the gray overhead. She brought her gaze down to the right side of the street, at all the twinkling Christmas lights as they decorated the trees along the sides of the street. Her last Christmas in New York with Joey. The snow was about to bury them both if they didn't act right then and there.

“I cherish every moment I have with you,” he repeated; and he leaned in for an embrace upon her lips. Sweet and soft, like molten dark chocolate; warm and silken, like the cup of Mexican hot chocolate that she had made for Cliff that one morning. For the first time in a year, everything reminded her of Cliff, but at the same time, it reminded her of Joey. Something new, something unique, something completely different than what she had known before.

He held back and gazed right into her face.

“I wish you didn't have to leave,” he told her.

“I wish I didn't, either,” she confessed, and she couldn't resist the tears in her eyes. “What do you want to give me, by the way?”

“Just that,” he whispered to her. “The only thing in the car here is my guitar. And yeah—it's officially my guitar now.”

She brought her lips to his again. They didn't need any mistletoe to believe it between them.

[s-jatpfic]

I need to hear that out of your mouth

summery: bobbys perspective on 'worse'/bobby figuring out how to help reggie (i guess, not actually tho. honestly i have no clue what i wrote)

ohh also, bobby uses they/them pronouns

words: 1150

warning: mention of abusive parents, visible signs of violence, swear words (message me if you think i should add something else)

———

They knew they shouldn’t have left.

For gods sake they knew.

But despite Reggies attempt to never let anyone see, Bobby also knew Reggies secret.

How could they have missed that.

Maybe he was good enough to hide it from self-centered Luke or from "everyone has anxious ticks" Alex, but he definitely couldn’t hide it from Bobby not before and certainly not since Bobby is in love with him.

The way Reggie anxiously grabs the sleeves of his flannel as if his life would depend on it, bare what would happen if they would just slightly slip up his wrist.

Or layering long sleeves and pants even in summer and even if they go to the beach. Bobby can’t even remember the last time they‘d seen Reggie actually swimming in the ocean instead of coming up with excuses about guarding their towels and soda or that he’d just ate one of the pre-packed sandwiches Bobbys mom made for the band and can’t go into the water just yet, as if he suddenly started to care about such things.

However the main indicator of Bobbys observance was the way Reggies nose scrunches up and his tongue plays with his teeth as if he’s back in middle school and just got his braces for the first time whenever he is lying.

Yes, Reggie is a good liar, good enough to convince Luke and Alex and his teachers, even himself, but Bobby is greater at detecting Reggies lies than he will ever know.

Ever since Bobby put the pieces together they‘d been waiting for Reggie to finally say that out loud so they can properly help him and not just plan movie nights or road trips to get Reggie out of his house, but Bobby didn’t want to push Reggie. Reggie has to say that because he wants to and not because Bobby resists on.

But now that Reggie finally has the courage to say those stupid fucking words, as Bobby called it in their mind ever since they discovered Reggies confidential information, now that he finally talks about it Bobby is the first one to run away, registering the low "they hurt me" only through the echo of the garage door yet this mumbled sentence was probably the most clean-cut words Bobby ever caught up and everything needed for them to fully break into anger.

Maybe they weren’t ready for Reggie to talk about it. Maybe they didn’t got to prepare themselves properly. But what should they do, everything Bobby can do in this situation is calming down and being there for Reggie and thats the one thing Bobby isn’t doing.

So they gotta change that. Hopefully Reggie is still in the garage.

As Bobby enters their studio, the three other sunset curve members are yet paddlet up on the couch, impossible for Bobby to tell which body part belongs to which boy.

Only their soft breathing is stopping the room usually filled with obnoxiously loud noises, music blasting on full volume or chattering about nonsense, from being silent.

Maybe Bobby isnt ready for this yet, however, they have to be ready. This is not their fight, this is all about Reggie, all about the boy they are eying up a little bit too intense, rose-colored glasses refining their view.

Clearing their voice to get at least one of their friends attention, Bobby is still standing awkwardly uncomfortable in the middle of the room not really knowing what to do, what to say or how to act.

It‘s Alex being the first one to break the hug and facing Bobby, though, as soon as Reggie registers the sound, all his attention is on the suspenders-wearing lad.

Nothing but a low undefinable noise was leaving Bobbys throat as they opened their mouth.

Though their mind was filled with millions of things to say, they weren’t physically able to, something stopping them from moving.

As Alex caught up on the situation, he pulled Luke aside leaving their two oblivious friends alone.

Yeah, maybe Bobby isn’t the only one being in love with their best friend but maybe (or most definitely) is this not the right time to address that.

"I assume you already knew?"

Reggie hated how weak his voice sounds, but honestly there wasn’t a lot of explaining needed to understand why.

"Yeah I- ehm, I figured. Was easy to catch up on once I got behind all of your habits"

Bobby still hasn’t moved, unsure if they should go up to Reggie or if physical touch is too much to handle at the moment.

"Thanks for never mentioning it. Kinda hoping we all can just forget about it, pretending today never happened, you know?"

The bruises on Reggies still uncovered skin are the most captivating, hypnotizing thing Bobby ever experienced.

Green and purple shadows dancing their way from Reggies wrists up to the straps of his Tank Top, telling their very own story about two people who should have never gotten any kids.

"Can you- uhm? Please-"

It is as if Bobby lost all their knowledge about being a functional human being, their voice an octave below average.

Shaking of and breathing out, they finally get their shit together, finally sitting next to Reggie on the couch, finally able to form coherent sentences, finally able to think.

This is about Reggie. This is about helping the boy they like, their best friend, the one who’s always there if they need him. Now it’s time to pay their bill back.

"I know this is probably hard for you, and I can promise not to ever talk about this ever again if you wish, still I need you to know that I’m always gonna help you, protect you, give you custody or just distract and cuddle you whenever you’d like. You’re not going down by yourself, you’re having me and the boys and we act the way you want us to. But can you please, one last time, can you please say those stupid fucking words out loud for me? I need to hear that out of your mouth. Please?"

Bobby was practically bagging but for some reason this is very important for them, maybe because they need it smashed right into their brain to actually realize the gravity of the situation.

Reggie is just leaning into Bobby’s arms. Being hold by them, makes everything seem less big of an issue, being hold by them makes the world seem to disappear.

He can do this. It’s just saying it once. It’s just betraying them once. And it’s not as if Bobby wouldn’t know already. Saying it out loud, admit the issue is hard, is complicated, but being hold by Bobby, it’s not impossible.

"My parents abuse me"

~franky

masterlist

[thebibliomancer]

Song of the Dark Crystal liveblog pt 26

Song of the Dark Crystal by J.M. Lee because Naia and Kylan are trapped on a mushroom with a snarling Skeksis Satirist. That’s a heck of a place to wait a whole weekend before continuing.

Last times on book: Kylan, Naia, and Tavra have been on a quest to find a bell-bird bone firca that they can use to warn all Gelfling about the Skeksis. There’s been complications and setbacks. Tavra is a spider now, due to circumstances. They have a fourth party member, a Grottan alchemist named Amri. And the Skeksis Satirist skekLi and an army of millions of spiders have taken over the Caves of Grot and the Grottan Sanctuary where the extinct bell-birds used to live. But the upside is that Kylan has trapped skekLi with him and Naia on top of a mushroom. Wait, that’s the upside?

Chapter 26

An epic mushroom top showdown, with musical finish

Kylan and Naia parted, flanking skekLi instinctively. Armed with the staff, the Skeksis’s reach was incredible. With the long weapon, he might even be able to sweep them both off the platform in a single move, should they be in the same place.

Naia says the game plan should be to get the staff away from skekLi but given that their equipment is Gurjin’s Sweet Metal Dagger and the clothes on their backs… outlook bad. Kylan instead wonders whether they should try escaping.

skekLi guesses Kylan’s thought and laughs that a Drenchen’s wings aren’t for flying (they’re more fins for swimming better) so Naia’d be lucky to save herself, let alone Kylan.

skekLi’s beak broke into a grin.

“Though we could then say you had fallen for each other! Ha!”

Oh snap! That’s the wit that earned him the sobriquet Satirist!

Just puns and dunking on people.

I assume he dunked on the wrong person and that’s why he’s in a cave.

The sweet pun dunk has skekLi turn his attention to Kylan briefly and Naia uses the opportunity to close in and… honest to god, she does a SHORYUKEN

Naia surfaced right inside the space made by his outstretched arms, then jumped, holding her fist up and clocking skekLi solidly in the bottom of his bill. His beak made a loud CLACK and he stumbled backward.

Amazing. Incredible. Another thing I’d like to see in puppet.

Apparently, I was right when I said that skekLi is the scrawny nerd Skeksis because both Naia and Kylan realize that he’s not a fighter. He’s bigger and stronger and has more reach but he’s uncoordinated in a fight.

Kylan manages to get inside his guard too and bites his wrist. Alas, he doesn’t get skekLi to drop his staff and the Skeksis also flings him almost off the mushroom. But nice try, Kylan.

While dangling, Kylan spares a glance down.

“I don’t mean to add to our troubles,” he said, “but the spiders are coming.”

You have a gift for understatement, Kylan.

Yeah. The MILLIONS OF SPIDERS are crossing the lake at the base of the petrified giant mushroom so they’ll be climbing up soon. And that will spell very bad times. Even worse times than being trapped on a mushroom with this nerd forever.

Kylan tries to get Naia to run because friends but she insists on not leaving him. Because friends. And because he’s their bard and the quest reward is an instrument and they’ll need him to play it.

skekLi finds this hilarious. Because what a cute quest. Adorable.

“Oh yes. The bone! The bell-bird bone from the Book of Raunip. Krychk told me of it, that you had a bone to pick. Ha! I’m sad to say, you won’t find it here. Poor, stupid Gelfling. All the bodies have been borne away, chewed up by ruffnaw and crawlies and time.”

I mean, he has a POINT. Its been about a thousand trine. On the other hand, the nests and feathers are still here, in flagrant disregard of good sense. So I don’t know what to believe.

But I like that skekLi saw the punpportunity and went for it. I’m still not sure how good he is at satire but he has a wit.

skekLi shifts into Chamberlain-energy PEACE PLEASE mode. He really is like a scrawnier quippier Chamberlain that even skekSil would bully.

He tells Naia if she surrenders and comes to the castle, he might see his way to sparing the other Gelfling. 

“We only need a little essence. A little, only a little. From you and your other half. In exchange, we would feed you. Care for you, as we have always cared for Gelfling. We need only a little to save our Emperor.”

Naia presumes that what the Emperor wants is to steal life from his Mystic counterpart and she won’t truck with that, if she knew what a truck was. But skekLi insists no, if the Emperor is dying then his counterpart is dying. And only special Gelfling essence can save them.

Kylan has serious DOUBT about this, especially how this all sounds too good to be true, and warns Naia that this Satirist is clearly lying. But on he rolls.

“That is what you want to do, isn’t it? Drenchen? Save the others? Save the Crystal? Save Gelfing - save Thra? To do so, help us save Skeksis. Look! We are not mad with Gelfling. Even when it bites us. We only want Drenchen twins, for reunion. Only a little. You would spare only a little, if it might save everyone… wouldn’t you?”

Kylan again objects that this is all pretty fishy, that if the Skeksis just needed a little, they only needed to ask. skekLi responds indignantly yeah like that would go over well. Just dress up nice, stroll into the village, ask to borrow a cup of life goo. Suuure.

Although, the more pressing thing is 1) they were draining Gelfling before they knew about Gurjin and Naia. That’s what set off this whole thing. Rian discovered that his girlfriend had been drained. 2) They don’t know that special twin essence would work. Aughra said it won’t. 3) This good of the many thing is pretty dubious when at this point I’m sure the Skeksis have killed more Gelfling than there are Skeksis and Mystics combined. 

That obliquely reminds me that I’m glad that the big prophecy didn’t get play in the Age of Resistance series. During Chamberlain’s PEACE PLEASE moment, he claims that the Skeksis just wiped out the Gelfling because they were scared of the prophecy that Gelfling would overthrow them. Classic fiction trope genocide backfire. You try to thwart a prophecy by doing a lot of murder and it blows up in your face.

But the series has it so that the Skeksis were exploiting the Gelfling long before they started drinking them, were drinking them before they started trying to wipe them out, and had messed up the environment with their exploitation of the Crystal. So, yeah. I don’t buy what you’re selling, skekLi! Not even at a limited time offer reduced price!

“But listen, Gelfling. Listen. Gelfling people entrusted the castle and the Crystal to the Skeksis. We keep it. We protect it. Dust the mantel, clean halls, and so on. All for free, with never thanks. So, least Gelfling could do is help the Skeksis when they can. What are two lives to all lives on Thra?”

Wow, he is really good at playing up sob story here. ‘Oh woe is us we have to live in a giant castle.’ When we’ve seen and we know that the Castle is/was stocked full of staff and guards and that the Skeksis go around to do a census and tithes.

But it doesn’t matter, skekLi was just saying sweet sounding words to fill space because SPIDERS ARE HERE

Dammit, you let him monologue and talking wasn’t a free action and now we’re lousy with spiders!

The Skeksis chuckled to himself, gnashing his teeth.

“Gelfling waited too long. Time to make a deal is over. Now the deal is only that both Gelfling come quietly, or Spriton dies.”

But but but but, killing time is also what Amri needed to do!

He calls over from one of the bell-bird nests, waving a tiny bone. Even just waving it blows some air through it, releasing an eerie tone that makes the spiders and the skekLi sit up and take notice.

“Play it!” Kylan shouted. 

“Play it? I’m no musician!”

“Just blow in it!”

“Oh!”

Hah!

Kylan: ‘It's a wind instrument, not rocket science, Amri!’

Amri: ‘What’s a rocket?’

Except it's not not as complicated as Kylan hopes.

A long soft note rang through the corrie. It was faint, and only one note, but it brought a chill to Kylan’s spine. The spiders that were closing in on the nest where Amri perched backed away, too close to the sound of breath in the bell-bird’s bone. Even the spiders on the cap trembled, whispering among themselves in hesitation and fear.

But the note did not grow louder, instead fading out as Amri lost breath. Kylan fidgeted in frustration, licking his lips. He knew if he had the bone, he could raise its song to fill the entire corrie. Amri was blowing too hard, or too soft - either way, it wasn’t enough.

“It’s too difficult! I don’t know how!” Amri called. “I’m sorry!”

And that’s why you have a dedicated bard. 

I like Kylan getting frustrated, seemingly not because they’re all about to be spidered, but because Someone Is Musicing Wrong.

He asks Naia to go get the bone and bring it to him but she hesitates to leave him alone. skekLi mocks them, because its what he do, and pokes Kylan with the staff in a patronizing way.

Which just unleashes the primal Angry Kylan within. He grabs the end of the staff and holds it so skekLi can’t pull it back (because he is the scrawny nerd of his group.

“I’m not a hostage,” [Kylan] growled. “And I”m not helpless. And I’m not weak! Naia, go get the bone from Amri and bring it to me. Then I will take care of the spiders and this Skeksis liar!”

Kylan has hit his ‘aren’t you tired of being nice? Don’t you want to go ape shit?’ point!

This is amazing, by the way! Kylan isn’t heavy enough to prevent skekLi from actually picking up the staff so he’s just clinging to it while skekLi waves it around trying to dislodge him. 

Another thing I would very much like to see in puppets!

Naia is still torn because she wants to protect her best friend Kylan and so splits the difference while still trusting him not to die if she’s not there for five seconds. She doesn’t fly over to Amri. She hasn’t flown at all and now is no time to stress test the wings. But she tells Amri to throw the bone to her.

Kylan feels like his heart is exploding with pride because Naia trusts him but uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Uhhhhhhhh

You want to THROW the plot critical item across a vast gulf? And its a tiny, hollow bone so it probably doesn’t throw all that well. Not aerodynamic, not very able to fight wind resistance. Is this a good idea? Amri isn’t sure its a good idea but he does it anyway!

skekLi slams his staff into the mushroom ground, breaking it in an attempt to dislodge Kylan. Which he does because Kylan is smart enough not to hang on for that. 

When the staff crystal breaks, the ringing distracts the spiders and the skekLi and the Skeksis can’t do much more than curse as Naia jumps off the mushroom to catch the bone.

Which is falling slowly because it has a web parachute on it?? Good job, Tavra! I don’t know when you learned to do that! Is it instinctual? Are you just that skilled??

Kylan now gets to taunt that Naia totally caught the bone and will be up to give it to him any time now. And skekLi basically goes NUH UH.

C’mon, man! Where’s the wit I briefly knew you for?

Kylan snatched one of the staff’s splinters, stepped, and threw it like a miniature spear. It made its mark, striking skekLi in the shoulder, sticking out like a pin. The Skeksis squawked and yanked it out, but Kylan threw another, and another, sticking him full of darts from his own staff.

Oh my god this is amazing. This is ridiculous and amazing!

“GRAGGGHHH!” roared skekLi. “Stop it! Stop it, Gelfling!”

“Or what?”

“Or - or - wait! Stop it, and! AND! Stop it and we’ll let you go! Eh?”

“I don’t think you’re in a place to negotiate!”

Oh my god it just got better! This is a truly ridiculous scene!

Naia DID catch the bone and she IS coming to Kylan but she’s being obviously chased by ohgodsomany spiders.

skekLi claims he’ll do something kind and orders the spiders away. Before leaning over the edge and just yanking Naia back up to this mushroom cap. 

He’s not good at fighting but he’s great at plucking Gelfling from places, I guess.

skekLi holds Naia up by the back of the neck and tries shaking the bone off of her but she refuses to let go. She throws it to Kylan and the Skeksis threatens to kill her if Kylan plays the bone.

Naia tells him to do it anyway because she’s figured she’s pretty safe from casual Skeksis violence since they need her for twin goo although skekLi is angry enough to go ‘yeah but what if no?’

We might be in movie territory where we have a standoff between a Gelfling, a plot item, and a Skeksis with a hostage except there’s a third party.

Tavra-spider was hiding in Naia’s tunic and runs out along skekLi’s arm and… GOD. She bites him ON the eye. Geez, Tavra! You don’t mess around!

So now we have Tavra-spider running around on skekLi’s head and him freaking out slapping his own head with his non-Naia-grabbing hand and this is all very silly. Also, very serious but very very silly.

And in this silly spectacle, Naia reminds Kylan to play the bone.

The note was a thousand times stronger than when Amri had tried. It filled the corrie like wind, or water, or fire. Its reverberations circling against the walls from the pool at the bottom and all the way up to the sky. As it echoes, it reinforced itself, growing louder and louder until the mountains themselves began to sing with its song.

And the bone flute works! The MILLIONS OF ANGRY SPIDERS just start falling off the walls in droves, Tavra-spider, confined to a spider body, falls off skekLi and does a dead spider impression with her spider legs folded under her. Buuuut it doesn’t affect skekLi as much and covering his earhole with one hand, he makes ready to smash Naia against the mushroom with the other.

I guess that makes sense! It sucks for the Kylan Crew but it makes sense! The Skeksis are aliens to Thra and logically (?? with magic bird bone flute crystal music) aren’t as affected by the song of Thra.

But maybe it just needs the right accompaniment.

The song of the bone-flute faded, but skekLi’s death thrust halted midair. A second note, then a third, vibrated through the corrie. The tones were deep. Primal. Voices, Kylan realized. As the tone-tone chant sank into the walls of the cliffs, Kylan picked up the bone-flute from where he’d dropped it. He played the instrument and found the single note joined the other two with no discordance. It was the song of Thra, after all - the song that would move mountains.

skekLi dropped Naia. She fell with a gentle thump, then climbed to her feet and stumbled away. The Skeksis was frozen where he stood, eyes wide and pupils tiny, panting so heavily that drool dripped from his open mouth.

Naia doesn’t dwell on being a second away from death just recently and notices the New Challengers.

Over on the edge of the corrie wall, urVa and urLii have reentered the plot and and filled the corrie with their song.

I love the Mystic song. I love it more when it saves Naia.

One held a tall bow, arrow nocked, though the point was lowered. There was no need to use the weapon while skekLi was held immobile by the bone-shaking song. He twitched and jerked against the power of his other half. He could do no more harm to the Gelfing, at least for now.

Maybe a Mystic could keep a Skeksis in one place…

Aughra’s words echoed in Kylan’s memory.

This is really cool but its raising my expectations for the Mystics! I know they have other stuff they could be doing but maybe they should go around singing the Skeksis away from causing trouble! 

Plus? Now I’m imagining an urRu barbershop quartet!

[lochrannn]

AU_gust: I like my toast done on one side

Read on AO3

CW: sex mention but rated teens and up

Prompt no 29: Pretend Relationship

Relationship: Lila Pitts/Diego Hargreeves

Characters: Lila Pitts, Diego Hargreeves

Follow-up to Glass Houses (Tumblr I AO3) in which Diego gets a roommate, Lila, to subsidise his rent because his PI agency is in dept and he ends up getting off with said new roommate.

-

It is very obvious to Lila that there is no love lost between her and the USCIS officer conducting her interview.

But the woman can have whatever suspicions she likes, their paperwork is flawless.

Lila did all the research and Diego had the resources and the knowhow to… be a bit creative with time stamps and receipts. Sure, it’s illegal to lie on your Green Card application, but they’ve done such a superb job at creating a whole story around how they met and how they got married that Lila is completely confident that they cannot get caught.

It’s useful, of course, that they have lived together for as long as they’ve known each other, it means they are quite familiar with each other’s routines and Diego added her name to the utility bills the moment they hatched their plan.

They have some wonderful photos of both their wedding and their honeymoon.

So they had a small wedding and kept their holiday local, who can fault them for that? They are of course planning to start a family soon, they have to mind their savings.

The reality is that Lila inherited quite a lot of money (a lot of it ill gotten gains) after the woman who adopted her died, and she took ten grand (pittance really) out of her funds to give to Diego so he could pay off his agency’s dept, in exchange for getting married to her, so she could get permanent residency in the country.

“And on which side of the bed do you sleep, Mrs. Hargreeves?” the officer asks in a neutral tone, pen hovering over her notes expectantly.

“Depends, really,” Lila offers casually, “I mostly prefer being on the right… that’s if you’re standing at the foot of the bed looking at it, it’s the left side of the bed, I don’t want there to be a misunderstanding. But we so often fall asleep cuddling that it’s kind of much of a muchness!”

Lila grins at the officer confidently, waiting for the next question.

“And do you use contraception when you have sex?”

“Yes!”

“What kind?”

“Condoms. I prefer not to mess with my hormones,” she adds tersely.

The officer raises an eyebrow at her and Lila half expects her to ask about the size of Diego’s dick next.

A question she could answer.

Not because they were this thorough in preparing their notes, but because of the time they fooled around when she’d only been living with him for a few weeks.

And the time after that when they fell into bed together and Diego took her apart so expertly she genuinely thought she would never want to look at another man again.

And then somehow neither of them had made the next move in the morning and they’d gone back to being roommates, if a bit awkwardly at first, until she proposed to him in the least romantic and most pragmatic fashion possible, not with a ring, but with a ten thousand dollar check instead.

“Mrs. Hargreeves, do you love your husband?” The officer folds her hands on the table and looks straight at Lila.

“Yes, of course!” Lila answers, just a bit taken aback, this not being a question she’d read about when preparing for the interview.

“Does your husband love you?”

“I wouldn’t have married him otherwise!”

The officer’s face twitches and for the first time in the process Lila gets nervous.

“But, you know, Diego can be a bit of a grumpy one, he’s a lot more emotional when you get to know him better. So whatever he said in his interview, I bet…” Lila starts rambling but is interrupted by the officer.

“Mrs. Hargreeves, I believe your husband’s feelings to be completely sincere, it’s you I’m a little concerned about.”

That shuts Lila up entirely. For multiple reasons.

She hardly remembers the rest of the interview, answers the questions on autopilot, and at the end she expects the officer to at best tell her they need some follow-up paperwork and at worst inform her they will be starting removal proceedings.

Instead, the officer stamps two pieces of paper and hands Lila her copy of her approved Green Card application.

She thanks the officer with sincerity as she leaves and finds her way back to the foyer in a daze.

Diego is waiting for her expectantly and she just gives him a nod and leads him out of the building as fast as possible. She wants to put as much distance between herself and the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services field office as she can.

Getting back to their flat is a bit of a blur, but Lila makes idle conversation with Diego in the car, trying to behave as normally as possible, but in the back of her mind she keeps mulling over what the immigrations officer said.

For all of his faults, one of Diego’s nicer attributes is that he is a terrible liar. How did he manage to so thoroughly convince the highly suspicious interviewer?

They’ve just got through the door when Lila decides there’s no point in not confronting this whole mess head on, so she turns to Diego as he’s leaning one hand against the wall near the door and toeing off his boots, and asks him, “Diego, are you in love with me?”

Diego almost stumbles as he frees his foot and then looks at her with a completely shocked expression, then he tries to school his features before scrunching his face up skeptically and saying, “Pfffff, where’d you get that idea? Just because I married you, huh?” he adds, chuckling unconvincingly at his own lame joke.

Lila doesn’t know what’s got into her, but she puts her hand on Diego’s shoulder and then watches him go cross-eyed as she leans in and kisses him gently.

He responds instantly, tilting his head a bit and moving his lips softly against hers, but then he seems to remember himself, because he carefully puts his hands against both her shoulders and lightly pushes her away.

“What are you…?” There’s an almost pained expression on his face now, “Lila, you gave me the money, remember! You d-d-don’t owe me anything! You don’t have to dohhhm….”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence because Lila has leaned back up and is kissing him fiercely and Diego doesn’t seem to have the heart to pull away again, but his hands still hover uncertainly near her arms as if he’s not sure he’s allowed to touch her.

This time Lila breaks the kiss herself, cups his jaw with one hand, and then strokes her thumb along the soft skin under Diego’s eye and over his cheek bone.

His eyes flutter shut as she gently whispers, “I think we really fucked up the order of things here,” and then bites her bottom lip, suddenly a bit nervous of kissing him a third time without warning.

She needn’t have worried, because Diego makes a sound in the back of his throat, almost like he’s wounded and then in a flash he wraps both his arms around her tightly and kisses her hard, and to Lila it feels like he’s pouring a lot of pent up feelings into the slide of his lips and tongue against hers.

She can’t blame him, she feels much the same way as she throws her free arm around Diego’s neck and uses the fingers of the hand that she’s still pressing against the side of his head to gently scratch his scalp.

And that’s how, on a random weekday afternoon and without any warning whatsoever, Lila finally gets to experience her wedding night.