#truman final answer

[brain-bumbler]

What character do you think is underrated in pn2

...Dion. But maybe I'm underestimating the number of other people who blorbo this side character and its not just like me and two friends xD Though I also wish Frazie had more dissections and works. She's so interesting!

I think a great thing about Psychonauts is that every character is so unique and individual and creative, they all stand out in their own spotlight. And the fandom is really great about giving everyone attention. I can't think of any character that I haven't seen a lot of love for- because they're all lovable!

When I really think about it though, Truman is a good case for being underrated! He seems like such a great dad character. The fandom loves Gus, but let's not forget how Truman seems so caring and supportive of Lili. He's possibly a single dad, dealing with a whole organization and a little firestarter at the same time. Dilf Truman truthers where are you?

[finelinevogue]

i love you more than dino nuggets

summary - the night before the final show

pairing : fiancé!harry x reader

word count : +2.3k

a/n : originally was going to include the show but i have another idea for that so i’m off to write that now !!! the title will make sense as you read😭😭

It was the final night before the last love on tour show and you’d already cried three times.

Once on the plane over to Italy. Once on visiting the stage being set up today at the stadium. And once, now, crying because of how overwhelmed you feel.

You were busy getting ready in your shared bedroom, whilst Harry entertained the rest of your friends and family downstairs.

The house Harry owned in Italy, that was soon to become yours too in a week, was a massive Roman inspired villa. The orange stone that the building was made of created a cool villa to live in and with over 12 bedrooms it was the biggest house Harry owned.

All of Harry’s family and friends were staying over here for the duration of the last love on tour show, and then also for your wedding next week.

Whilst some wondered why Harry would end the love on tour shows in Italy, when nothing would ever beat the homeliness feeling of Wembley, it was all because you were getting married here a week Saturday.

How could you not? The perfect background for a summers wedding, in yours and Harry’s favourite country.

“Babe?” Harry knocked on the door and enters before you answer.

“Yeah?” You sniffled, wiping your fingers under your eyes to clear the mascara marks.

“Wha— What’s with the tears, baby?” He asked with a laugh.

“I don’t even know!” You laughed, starting to cry all over again.

“Is it ‘cause the the cake decorator cancelled on us again? ‘Cause, babe, I promise you that I will bake the bloody thing myself.”

Harry came and sat next to you on the bed, handing you a handkerchief he pulled out of his blazer pocket.

Tonight was a big celebration for him and so you’d decided to all get dressed up and have one final supper all together. Harry was in a gorgeous black slate suit, with a basic white t-shirt underneath. You matched him with a simple black halter-dress.

“Turns out these suit tissues are useful for something.”

“Thank you.” You said, dabbing underneath your eyes.

“You’re going to make me cry before the night is up, I just know it.” He nudged you with his shoulder, causing you to fall into him.

You rested your head on his shoulder and let your hands fall into his lap. His arm came around your body and hugged you close, kissing the side of your head as he inhaled your coconut shampoo.

You sat in silence for a few moments, Harry’s fingers coming to play with yours. Twirling around each other until they find home in an interlocking movement.

“Can’t believe this is all real.” You said first.

“Babe, you’re only saying that because we watched The Truman Show the other day.” Harry chuckled.

“Don’t say things like that.” You playfully hit him, but Harry caught your hand before you can go for a second playful punch. “Y’know that my worst fear is this all not being real.” You mumbled.

Harry nodded his head.

“Then let me show you just how real this is.”

Harry pushed you to lay your back down on the bed, your legs still touching the floor from where you sat on the edge of the bed. Harry moved to hover over you and took your intertwined hands with him, moving them to link above your head.

A loose strand of hair tickled your forehead and Harry blew it away with a soft blow, making you smile.

“You’re so pretty.” Harry stopped to pause and just take you all in.

“I thought you were supposed to be showing me how we are real.” You sarcastically told him. The glint in his eyes told you just how cheeky he thought you were.

Harry didn’t waste another moment before kissing you. Your lips met his instantly and just like you’d been doing for the past five years, you kissed and kissed and kissed. You both knew when to bite or slow down and speed up. You were so in tune with each other.

When you started to pant slightly out of breath, Harry slowed down and moved his lips away from yours just a fraction.

“Breathe, baby.” He whispered against your lips.

“Mhm.” You tried to inhale some air.

“Was that real enough for you?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe we should try a—”

Harry’s lips pressed back against yours and he let go of your hands, because he knew you were itching to touch him.

Your hands went straight to his cheeks, pulling him in to guide his lips against yours, whilst his own hands remained gripped to the bed sheets as he held his weight up. You kissed him until both your lips were red and swollen.

A knock on the door is what interrupted you both.

“Fuck.” Harry mumbled, stuffing his head into your neck to hide from everyone else. Now that he’d had a moment with you, he didn’t want anyone else.

“H? Y/N?” The sound of Anne came through the other side of the door. “I know you two love each other, but you have people downstairs waiting for you.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle that you’d been caught making out by Harry’s mum. You felt like a teenager all over again.

“It’s not funny.” Harry pinched your sides playfully.

“Did y’hear me?” Anne asked.

“Yes muumm!” Harry replied, pretending like he was annoyed when in reality he could never be anything but kind to his mum.

“Be down in five, otherwise I’m coming in next time.”

Harry grunted and dropped his head back into your neck, softly kissing and biting at the skin he could find exposed down there.

“Harry stop.” You tried to push him off, laughing, but he was too heavy and you were too weak to fight him off. “I’m not having your mum come back.”

“It’s an empty threat, babe.” Harry continued to kiss your neck and it was heading straight for a hickey.

“Umm… Do you remember Christmas of 2020?”

Harry’s head shot up at that, smirking as he looked down at you.

“Be more specific.”

You rolled your eyes and huffed because he knew exactly what you were talking about, but was just too much of a tease and wanted to hear you say it.

“Your mum thought I was in pain, but it turned out I was just receiving head from her son. So thanks for that. It’s a memory that will haunt me forever.”

“What? Me eating you out?” Harry looked even more cheeky. “Well, I guess we’ll have to fix that.”

His hands shifted underneath your body as he moved down until he was knelt on the floor in front of your legs. You kicked him with your foot before he could lift your dress though.

“Harry Styles!” You scoffed. “Your entire family is downstairs. Stop it.”

You were well aware that you sounded like a teacher, or a scolding mother, but sometimes it was the only way to get him to stop his adolescent behaviour.

“You’re no fun.” Harry groaned and laid on the floor like you’d just shot him through the heart with an arrow.

“Don’t marry me then.” You said jokingly.

You shook your head and walked towards the door, heels clicking on the marble floor as you went. You brushed your dress down from creases.

You stopped in front of a full length mirror to check yourself out before you rejoined everyone downstairs. Everything was still set in place, despite the copious amounts of crying.

Harry came up behind you, having felt him before actually seeing him through the mirror.

He wrapped his arms underneath your armpits and squeezed you in a hug from behind. You tilted your head to one side of his body so he could plant a soft kiss on the skin you’d left exposed.

“I love you. And I can’t wait to marry you.” He kissed you again. “For you to be mine. Officially.”

“And you’ll be mine.” You turned your head and looked him in his eyes. They were so full of love, sparkling from the excitement you gave him.

“I’ve always been yours.”

His lips met yours once last time before you really did have to go downstairs.

Harry held your hand as you walked down the stairs together, occasionally checking that you were alright and that your heels weren’t going to make you fall.

Once you were down them, Harry immediately brought you into his side and had his arm around your waist. You copied his motion and followed him into the outdoor seating area.

Lots of long tables had been set up on the large patio for people to sit at, with an extra long table that was arranged with food and drinks for everyone here and an extra hundred people.

There was meats, fish, pasta, pizza and even veggie dinosaur nuggets that Harry had shipped from England just for you. For drinks there was everything from water to very expensive wine. Wine that come from the vineyards Harry has invested in around this area.

Everyone cheered when Harry and you finally turned up, many people already sitting down and tucking into their food and some people nursing glasses of fizz as they chatted.

The glow of the moon and the strings of hundreds of fairy lights made the atmosphere that little bit more special. There was some light piano music playing in the background and everything felt at peace with the world.

“I’m just going to go say to hi to a couple of people. Are you okay?” Harry asked you.

“‘Course. I’m starving and starting to get hangry.”

“Well nobody wants to see a hangry Y/N. Go on!” Harry shooed you along and you stuck up your middle finger at him. He watched you with admiration as you wandered off.

You made it to the buffet selection and happily see your dinosaur nuggets waiting for you. They even have a little sign on them that says ‘property of the lead singers fiance. don’t touch’ in Harry’s handwriting. Every minute he’s got spare he’s reminding people that you are soon to be forever each others.

You sit at a table with some of Harry’s relatives, chatting with them for a bit, before moving down the table to speak to your family.

You finished off your dinosaur nuggets and excuse yourself, wandering back inside the house and towards the freezer.

Opening it, you are amazed to find another three boxes of nuggets and you instantly fall a little bit more in love with Harry because of the simple action.

Your best friend, Ruby, meets you in the kitchen, as you’re turning on the oven to make more.

“Someone has been looking beautiful tonight.” She teased you, handing you over what must be your fourth glass of prosecco of the night.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” You laughed.

“Don’t be daft. No one is glowing more than you are tonight.”

“Not even H?” You challenged.

“I mean, yeah. But he’s only happy ‘cause you are.”

You blushed at her comment and take a sip of your drink. After the nuggets are in the oven, you sit on top of the granite kitchen island. Ruby clambered on after you, falling straight onto her back with how tipsy she is.

You laughed so hard that you ended up falling back too. Luckily the kitchen island is that big that you remain on it.

“I can’t believe you’re getting married next week.” You best friend says.

“Why does everyone keep focusing on that and not the final show tomorrow?” You wondered.

“Maybe because your wedding day is slightly more important than the end of Love On Tour.”

“I don’t think I see it that way.” You hummed at your own realisation. “They’re equal in importance. Tomorrow night is the biggest night of Harry’s career and it means a lot to me, therefore meaning a lot to me.”

“Girl, don’t tell me you’ve got cold feet.”

“No!” You blurted out, more sure of that fact than anything. “Never. I love Harry and I can’t wait for married life together.”

“But…?”

“But I think tomorrow night will be as equally as important to him and so it will be to me too.” You answered truthfully.

“Ugh. When did you get so sappy?” Your best friend teased you.

“Harry brings it out of me.” You gushed over your fiancé.

“You two are so sickeningly in love.”

“Don’t worry. Harry will give me my medicine later.” You attempted a bad joke.

“Okayyy….” Brad said as entered the room with a beer in hand. He’s been following your best friend everywhere she’s gone recently and you’re wondering whether he’s harbouring a little crush.

Both you and Ruby burst out laughing, you clutching onto your stomach from laughing so hard. Everything is so much funnier laying down too.

“What the fuck is going on in here?” Harry asked, smiling when he saw you laughing. He walked up Brad and slung his arm around his shoulder as they watched on.

“Mate I don’t even know. I don’t think I want to know.” Brad answered.

“Harry? Do you love Y/N?” Ruby asked.

“Yes.” Harry answered quickly.

“Y/N? Do you love Harry?”

“I doo!!” You shouted, laughing afterwards.

“They love each other! You’re now both wifed up.” Ruby announced.

“What?” You laughed. “Harry can’t be my wife.” You giggled.

“Oh yeah.” Ruby laughed and it set both of you off laughing again.

Harry shook his head at you both and nodded for Brad to handle Ruby whilst he handled you. Brad made sure Ruby didn’t fall over when he stood her up, announcing he was going to take her somewhere to lay down for a bit to calm down.

You felt Harry’s hands on yours as he pulled you to sit up.

Once you sat up you warmly smiled at him, cupping his cheek and leaning your forehead onto his.

“Hey, baby. Y’doing okay?” Harry asked and smiled at you.

“Mhm.”

“Your dino nuggets are ready if you want them.”

“Yes please.”

“Okay. Stay here for me.”

Harry arranged them on a plate and added some sweet chilli sauce on the side for you. He then came back over to you and stood between your legs.

He dipped a nugget in some sauce and held it up to your mouth. He blew on it to cool it down, only because he’d seen chefs on the TV do it, and waited for you to take a bite.

You hummed in delight as you bit into it. “Mm mm.”

“Nice?” Harry asked, wiping your mouth of crumbs with a nearby napkin.

“Thank you.” You nodded. “I’m excited for a life full of you and dino nuggets, Harry.”

“Do you love me more than dino nuggets?” He offered you another bite.

“Love you more than anyone or anything.” You finished chewing before speaking. “But veggie dino nuggets are the second love of my life.”

“As long as I’m the first.” He kissed your forehead.

Both of you were in the kitchen for another twenty minutes, talking about anything and nothing whilst Harry fed you. A few people had walked in, but had left you just as quickly to enjoy this quiet time together.

A couple of people had snapped photos of you too, which you would be thankful for later.

At the end of the night, after there was a mass of friends and family cleaning up and washing dishes, everyone retreated to bed.

Harry had been saying his rounds of good night before he had joined you in bed.

It was past midnight and you wanted time to slow down. It was unfair that the last show of love on tour has crept up so soon. How dare it.

You understood Harry needed some time to himself now though and start building more of a life outside of touring for himself. For starters, marrying you.

Harry sighed as he got into bed, peeling back the covers and immediately wiggling is way across the bed, over to your side, and spooning you from behind.

He kissed the back of your neck a couple of times, just because he could, as you wiggled in his hold to get comfortable again.

“Tonight was fun.” You said softly, speaking into the darkness and knowing it was only Harry who could hear you.

“It was. Tomorrow night will be even more fun.”

“It’ll be bittersweet.”

“Maybe.” His hands held yours. “But I’m getting tired, baby, and I just want a bit of rest now.”

“I know, bub. I’ll just miss it, is all.”

“You’ll always still have me, though. I’m not going anywhere.”

You turned around in his hold, facing him and resting your faces so close that your noses were touching.

“I’m here to stay too. Forever yours when that ring gets put on me next week, baby.” You tell him, smiling a little too much at that comment.

“I… I think I’m going to play something for you tomorrow. Something i’ve never done before.” He sounded nervous telling you.

“Just for me?”

“Everything’s always for you. This piece will especially be.”

“Can’t wait.” You leaned in and pecked his lips so he could taste your excitement. “You’re going to be amazing.”

“I’ll be sad it’s over, but more than ready to step off the stage and down the aisle instead. That’ll be the best day of my life.”

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Midnight | Chapter 19 | SR

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N - a slight jump forward in time here. For the sake of this, Spencer’s mom lives back in Vegas.

Chapter Summary - after finding a new place to settle down, things finally seem like they might be looking up for you and Spencer. Meanwhile Luke refuses to rest while he continues searching for you.

Pairing - unsub! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | very eventual happy ending

Warnings - cleaning up a crime scene, burying bodies, fingering, handjob, swearing, vomit, brief mention of depression, penetrative, unprotected sex, lying.

WC - 5.7k

Chapter 19 - Stitch Me Up

Two Months Later

The desert city of Twentynine Palms, California was located in the Mojave Desert and sat on the northern side of the Joshua Tree National Park and promoted the motto “a beautiful desert oasis”. 

It wasn’t small but it was huge either, with a population of around twenty five thousand, making it a great place for two people to hide in plain sight. And given its desert location, the temperature this time of year was over one hundred and five, a stark contrast from tiny little Colorado mountain towns. 

Samuel and Violet Truman of Arizona had moved out west and rented themselves a little fully furnished three bed, single storey home on Chia Avenue in a quiet suburb of Twentynine Palms. They arrived two weeks ago after spending some six weeks travelling the states with their travel companions Jack and Lily Waters. 

From the outside their home left a lot to be desired, with its rickety metal fence and lone palm tree in the sandy front yard. But the inside was so modern and sheek that the couple had signed a lease on the spot. 

From the outside looking in, you and Spencer were the idyllic all American couple. And admittedly, from the inside you were also pretty damn happy. 

Since fleeing Crested Butte in the middle of the night two months ago, things had changed dramatically. That night you’d waited until Luke had stopped patrolling your cabin before getting Mary’s body into the trunk of the Nissan. You’d scrubbed every single inch of the house until it was cleaner than when you’d arrived, tweezed the bullet out of the wall and filled in the hole left behind, before gathering all of your belongings and getting the hell out of dodge. 

On the way out of town you had begged Spencer to make one last stop. He wanted to refuse, you could tell, but he was trying so hard to make you happy, to make up for the way he’d been treating you that he agreed and pulled the Nissan to a stop on the street outside of McGills. 

It had been late and all the lights were off so you’d ducked down the side alley towards the door that led up to his apartment. You’d had no idea if he’d be there but you’d prayed with every fibre of your being that he would. And by some stroke of luck, he answered the door after you’d knocked twice. 

“Rose,” he folded his arms across his chest and leant against the door jamb. “Or should I say, Y/N.” 

“I heard Luke spoke to you.” You gnawed on your lip as Jesse regarded you like the stranger you were. 

“He did. I have to say, I did not expect you to be FBI.” 

“Yeah.” You nodded. “It’s a long story. I just wanted to come by and apologise for everything. I probably really shouldn’t have let myself follow you out of the Nickel that night.” 

“I’m glad you did.” He nodded, dropping his arms to his sides. “Even though it didn’t work out between us, it at the very least got me out of my slump. Maybe now I can actually put myself out there again, you know? Now I’ve gotten over that first hurdle.” 

“You’re going to make some woman very happy someday.” You smiled, subconsciously taking a step closer. 

“It’s a shame it couldn’t have been you.” He shrugged wistfully. 

You swallowed thickly, glancing down the alley and noting that you couldn’t see the Nissan from this position, or more importantly, its occupant couldn’t see you. You stepped even closer to Jesse and cupped his cheek. 

“In another life maybe.” You whispered. “I’m leaving town.” 

“I figured as much.” He nodded as your hand wandered down from his face to bicep. “You could stay, you know? With me. You don’t have to go just because he wants you to.” 

“You have no idea how tempting that is. But I can’t.” 

“I know.” He sighed, suddenly gripping the back of your neck. “I’m going to miss you.” 

Suddenly he’d slammed his lips against yours in a kiss so passionate your legs had buckled. If Spencer knew how you’d said goodbye to Jesse, he most likely would have gone back and killed him. If he’d known you’d let Jesse finger you in his doorway while you jerked him off in return, Spencer would have certainly murdered him and probably enjoyed it. 

But clearly you had a better poker face than you realised as Spencer simply drove off as soon as you were back in the car. And on the drive the only thing you’d thought of were Jess’s last words to you. 

“I wish I’d gotten a chance to love you, Y/N.” 

But at some point you had to let that go. 

Mary’s final resting place had been a hole in the ground in the Beaverhead-Deerlodge National Forest in Montana, almost eight hundred miles north of her hometown of Crested Butte. The Nissan met the same fate as Spencer’s Volvo a further five hundred and fifty miles east just outside of Medora, North Dakota. 

Spencer purchased three pairs of bus tickets: one down to Texas, one out to Minnesota and one to Iowa, the latter being the ones you actually used. It took the better part of an entire day on a sweaty, smelly bus before you arrived in Cedar Rapids.

You checked into a cheap and dirty motel under the names of Jack and Lily Waters and spent almost the entire night having sex. Thoroughly exhausted in the morning, Spencer found a used car lot and using his Arizona licence in the name Samuel Truman, paid cash for a black Chevy Impala. 

For the six weeks that followed you travelled up and down the country in much of a zigzag, alternating between your two pseudonyms, back and forth so the BAU would never find you. You spent six weeks in multiple different cheap motels, fucking like rabbits every step of the way. 

You’d never felt so intrinsically linked to someone the way you did to Spencer in those six weeks. And it seemed he’d finally found his bliss as he didn’t kill once. 

Eventually when enough time passed you’d choose to settle down in California. But unfortunately the mundane realities of life would ultimately be your downfall. 

You stood up from the bathroom floor with a groan, wiping the back of your hand over your mouth and padding over to the sink. You stuck your mouth directly under the faucet and drank from it to wash away the taste of bile on your tongue. 

You’d been throwing up on and off for some weeks now but you simply put it down to the residual stress of being on the run. You exhaled heavily before shuffling back out into the bedroom where Spencer still lay naked on top of the sheets. 

“I’m mildly offended.” He offered you a wistful smile. 

“I’m sorry.” You grumbled, flopping back to the bed next to him. 

“It’s ok. Just never had anyone need to throw up whilst sucking my dick before.” He chuckled, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. 

“It’ll teach me not to eat hotdogs from a gas-and-go.” You sighed. “I can try again if you’re still in the mood?”

“After I just listened to you puke your guts up? I’m suddenly not very horny.” He pulled you closer so your head was resting on his chest. “But seriously, are you ok? You’ve been getting sick a lot lately.” 

“Yeah I guess it’s stress or something. I’ll be fine.” You nuzzled against him, placing your hand flush against his chest over his heart. 

You smiled as the ring caught the light and found yourself moving impossibly closer to Spencer. His grandmother's old ring had been upgraded, as had the one he wore, for newer silver matching bands inscribed on the inside with partners in crime. 

One of your stops on your travels before you’d made your way to Twentynine Palms had been in Atlantic City at a seedy motel just off the main strip. After a few drinks one night as you walked by a little drive-in chapel, Spencer had a proposition for. 

“What would you say I said we should get married?” He pulled you to a stop on the sidewalk. 

“Married?” You glared at him. 

“Right now. Partners in crime forever.” He grinned at you. 

“You’re joking, right?” Your brows furrowed. 

“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life. Before we get swallowed up entirely in the lives of Samuel and Violet, I think Spencer and Y/N need to do this one last thing.” 

And really there had only been one answer to that. You and Spencer had been bound for life the moment you’d left DC with him, you were as good as married, so why not make it official? 

If your old team were to ever find one last trace of Spencer Reid and Y/N Y/L/N it would be the signing of marriage licences in a little Atlantic City chapel. 

Spencer purchased you the new rings as a surprise and that along with your rose gold heart necklace, were your most treasured possessions. 

“You don’t need to be stressed, sweetheart. It’s over, we’re safe now. I’ll never let anything bad happen to you.” He cooed, kissing your head. 

It really was amazing the difference a few months could make. Of course things weren’t ideal, you’d always be on the run, never able to return home but things with Spencer were as close to perfect as they could possibly be. 

Since fleeing Butte he’d been wonderful, the Spencer you’d known was still in there somewhere. You may be on the run but as long as this was the Spencer you woke up to every morning, you didn’t mind at all. 

But Spencer was wrong, things were far from over. At least you’d always have these moments to look back when everything came crumbling down. But for now, despite the stress within you, you knew Spencer was all you needed to feel whole. You and Spencer were two broken halves but maybe together you could patch each other up and finally feel complete. 

***

Two days after Luke Alvez arrived back from Crested Butte he received a phone call from the diner owner's son. 

Jesse McGill had informed him of the mysterious disappearance of the girl Mary, whom Luke had met at the diner, which was followed in quick succession by you and Spencer’s sudden departure from the town. 

It really didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. But unfortunately for Luke it did take a genius to pull it off and Spencer was sure to leave behind no trail, no scrap of evidence. And two months later and Mary still hadn’t been found and the BAU had no leads on you and Spencer’s whereabouts. You’d well and truly outsmarted them. 

In his spare time, which was very few and far between these days, he poured over the Duncan Green case file as well as images of the sparkling clean cabin you’d left behind in Butte in the hopes that maybe he’d missed something. He stayed late in the office every single night and looked for any reports of sightings of you and Spencer as Emily had officially registered you as missing persons. He scrolled through police databases for any other occurrences that might point to where the hell you were. 

He’d discovered two bodies buried in woodlands across the country which were similar in MO to Green but with no pertinent links between them, the BAU couldn’t investigate. 

Lyle Smith was found in a shallow grave with his throat cut in the Hoosier National Forest just north of Jasper, Indiana. The body of Brett Carlisle from Wichita, Kansas was found in the Rita Blanca National Grasslands in Texas. Both bodies had been subject to the elements but deemed to have been dead since before that little Nissan was picked up on Elk Avenue for the first time. So maybe Spencer had been on some kind spree since he’d left DC.

And that brought him onto the discovery of the burnt out Nissan, near identical to how they’d found Spencer’s Volvo. They’d spent three days searching the area surrounding where the vehicle was found for Mary’s body only to come up short. Of course, Spencer wasn’t stupid, he wouldn’t dispose of a body anywhere near the car. 

The only lead Luke had really had in the last two months was the filing of a marriage licence in the state of New Jersey. It was like a big middle finger in his face, clearly you’d both wanted him to find it. He’d driven to Atlantic City on one of his rare days off and canvassed the area near the wedding chapels, showing your photographs to anyone who would look. But he knew you’d be long gone. 

If he could just find a way to connect any of these crimes to Spencer, or to find Mary’s body then maybe he could convince you to come home. He was sure you had nothing to do with any of this and if had solid proof that Spencer had murdered one of these people maybe it could be his way to form a wedge between the two of you. No matter what happened, Luke would never stop trying to protect you. 

But god if it wasn’t taking its toll on him.

Luke Alvez was, in no uncertain terms, coming apart at the seams. The stitching holding him together had been removed thread by thread and at this point there was barely anything holding him together. Emily had expressed her concerns for his mental health, suggesting he seek medical help for what she had dubbed a depressive spiral. 

His response had been simply, “you’d be depressed too if your best friend had married a murderer” which had pretty much shut down the conversation. 

He knew he was devolving, he’d seen it hundred of times before. His apartment was a mess of case files, innocuous accounts of possible sightings and potential victims of Spencer. He barely slept, running mostly on coffee and energy bars. He was almost certain he was getting an ulcer. 

But he wouldn’t let this go. He couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren’t safe and he couldn’t rest until he knew you were. Maybe this obsession would eventually kill him, but it would be worth it to be able to free you from the clutches of Spencer Reid. 

***

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You scurried back to the car with your best apologetic smile as you slid into the passenger’s seat and Spencer pulled a face. 

“Did you puke again?” He frowned at you. 

“No.” You shook your head. 

“You were peeing again? You went when we got here.” He started the engine. 

You weren’t exactly sure where you were headed, Spencer had simply told you that you were going out for the day and with nothing better to do you’d followed along. You were somewhere along the I-15 heading north about two hours away from Twentynine Palms, at a gas station. You’d only stopped long enough for Spencer to fill up the Chevy and have a coffee and you’d used the bathroom twice, which was very unlike you. 

“I know, I think I drank too much coffee this morning.” You mused, putting on your seatbelt.

“You always drink too much coffee, but that’s an entirely different conversation.” He chuckled, putting the car in reverse and pulling out of the space. 

As he merged back onto the interstate you twirled your wedding band around your finger, watching the way his caught the sunlight through the windscreen and you smiled to yourself. 

“Where are we going, Spence? Not that I don’t like a spontaneous road trip but I thought we’d settled now? Driving long distances usually only equals bad things where we’re concerned.” You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth. 

Spencer removed one hand from the wheel and brought it to rest on your knee while he smiled at you softly. 

“We’re going to see my mom.” He spoke happily.

“Oh.” You nodded with a soft laugh. “Ok, good. You had me worried for a second.” 

“I told you sweetheart, you don’t need to worry about anything. Not anymore.” He gave your leg a squeeze, the adrenaline pulsing through his veins. 

His bloodlust had been sated for the past two months but now it had come back with avengence. He needed to kill and he had a particular target in mind who he was sure would satisfy his urges more so than any that had come before. 

But it was better to keep you in the dark. You were so happy lately and Spencer loved it when you were happy. He’d use visiting his mom as a distraction and he’d sneak off and extract his plan solo. You’d never need to know and your blissful little bubble didn’t need to be popped. 

It was a win-win. 

He ran over his plan in his head as he drove, making sure he had all the little details secure in his mind. There was no margin for error here, this had to be the perfect kill. 

The two of you mostly stayed silent until he’d made it about another half hour up the interstate and you huffed out a loud breath. 

“Goddamnit,” you grumbled. “I need to pee again.” 

***

Visiting Spencer’s mom had been pretty safe for the two of you given that if anyone ever asked her if you’d been here, she most likely wouldn’t remember. You spent a few hours with her upon your arrival in Vegas before Spencer took you for a three course meal at the very expensive Capital Grille on Las Vegas strip. 

After he walked you down to Caesars Palace in which you expected to be having drinks and were extremely surprised when Spencer strolled up to the reception desk stating he had a room reserved under his other alias Jack Waters. 

A bellboy led you up to one of the top floors and showed you to the Palace Premium Suite. You stood in the middle of the grand living room while Spencer tipped the young man and once the door was closed and the two of you were alone, he sidled up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. 

“You like it?” He spoke as he kissed the side of your face. 

“Wh-what is happening?” You laughed, still in awe. “What did I do to deserve this?” 

“Consider it a belated, one night honeymoon.” His lips trailed down your neck. “And I guess just a small token of my gratitude for everything you’ve done for me. I know I have a hard time saying how I feel but I love you so fucking much and I am the luckiest man in the world to call you my wife.” 

“Spencer,” you sighed happily in your arms. “I love you too. And I’m the lucky one.” 

“Ok, now we’ve got that out of the way, tell me Mrs Reid, where would you like me to fuck you first?”

You moaned at his words, turning yourself around in his arms and attaching your lips together. 

“What are my options?” You spoke against his lips, feeling his dick growing hard as he pressed into you. 

“Well there are multiple couches, a four poster king sized bed, a pretty decadent bathtub, or there’s my personal favourite option…” his hands wandered under the hem of your shirt and over your back. 

“Which is?” You took hold of his lapels, tearing your lips away from his so you could look at him.

His pupils were already blown out with his lust, his lip quirked up into a sinful smirk. 

“We’re way up high, with some of the best views of Vegas.” He tugged your shirt up, quickly getting it over your head and tossing it aside. He took hold of your biceps and turned you back around to face the huge floor to ceiling windows overlooking the strip, his lips moving back to your ear. “My choice would be to fuck you up against the window. But that’s just me.” 

He was already leading you towards the windows, lips sucking the flesh of your neck, his free reaching between your bodies and unhooking your bra. He quickly got it off your arms and dropped it on the floor, and you made no protest when he pushed your front up against the window. You hissed slightly at the cool glass as it touched your nipples and Spencer smiled to himself. 

It was all a part of his plan. He would render you dumb with sex then run you an indulgent bubble bath with a large glass of wine to soothe your post-coital muscles. Then he’d tell you he’d left something at his mother's facility which was purposefully on the other side of town to buy him some time. 

He’d tell you he hopefully wouldn’t be gone long, but traffic on the strip at night could be a nightmare and he’d be back as soon as possible. He’d inform you of the bar and the spa downstairs if you wanted to use either while he was gone. 

And while you were preoccupied having a drink or getting a massage or whatever, he would seek out his target, slice his throat and be back before you knew it, with any luck rejuvenated enough for round two. 

He continued kissing your neck while he started unbuttoning your pants and you helped him wiggle them down your legs and kick them off. You could see Spencer in the reflection in the window start to work on the buttons of his shirt. You caught his eye and he smiled at you. 

He shucked his shirt off and pressed his bare chest against your back, caging you against the window with his hips, his hard cock pressing into your back. His lips moved back to your neck and worked on sucking deep bruises into your flesh whilst one hand wandered over your stomach and quickly dipped inside your panties. 

You closed your eyes as two fingers were soon pressing inside of you, his thumb massaging your clit. You rolled your ass backwards, grinding against his erection but you wobbled a little on your legs at the feeling of his fingers inside you. 

With your eyes closed your mind wandered of its own accord. There were times when you and Spencer were together that you found yourself thinking of Jesse, most specifically the last time you’d seen him when he’d fingered you in his doorway. 

It was entirely involuntary, you certainly didn’t mean to think about him and his strong tattooed arms and the large vein in his forearm that pulsed when his fingers were inside of you. You didn’t mean to imagine his wiry beard scratching your face as he kissed you. And you most definitely didn’t mean to picture him fucking you whilst Spencer was. Sometimes it just happened. 

Spencer was by no means an idiot and he knew you still thought about GI Mountain Man. He knew exactly what you looked like post orgasm and he’d known what the two of you had been doing when you’d said goodbye to him, even if you’d tried hard to hide it. There had been three, maybe four times when you’d said his name under your breath when he was fucking you but you’d never seemed to notice. 

Of course it bothered him, a part of him wanted to drive back to Butte and kill Jesse just to make himself feel better. But he was trying to be better for you and so he ignored the occasional slip of the tongue. 

Your hand snaked around his wrist, holding him firmly in place in your panties. He knew you were thinking about Jesse now, call it intuition, or gut instinct, but whatever it was Spencer knew. 

He used his free hand to relieve himself from his pants and move them down his thighs enough so they were out of his way. He was almost positive that Jesse wasn’t as big as him, couldn’t fill you up the way he could.

In one swift move, he removed his fingers from inside of you and hurriedly plunged his cock between your legs, causing you to gasp and fall flat against the window. Your eyes sprung open at the sudden intrusion and you made eye contact with him in the reflection.

“Jesus Christ, Spence.” You panted as he bottomed out. “A little warning next to him.” 

He chose to ignore you, placing his hands flush on the glass either side of your head as he started thrusting into you. He kept eye contact through the glass, not letting you close your eyes for fear you would start thinking of Jesse again. 

It’s not fair. I’ve done everything for her, I fucking married her and it’s still not enough. What makes him better than me? Why is he still on her mind? 

He tried not to let his anger cloud his judgement and had to rein himself back from fucking you too hard. He forced himself to slow down, thrusting you languidly against the window. You moaned in sync with one another while the Strip below illuminated you both in its chaotic glow. 

You kept your eyes on his in the reflection while he fucked you and all thoughts of Jesse left your head. When you were clenching around him, legs shaking from your impending orgasm, he took hold of your left hand and ran his fingers over your wedding band. 

“You’re mine.” He mumbled, his face contorting as his own orgasm snuck up on him. “Mine. My partner in crime, my wife, my…fuck.” 

He groaned the last word, head falling to your shoulder as he suddenly came inside of you. You whimpered as he filled you up, pushing you over the edge and your legs almost gave up with the force of your orgasm. 

You fell back against Spencer’s chest, his arms holding you up right even though his own legs were shaking. As you fought to catch your breath he peeled you away from the window as he slid out of you and helped you over to the couch. 

You collapsed onto it, panting heavily and pulling Spencer down with you. He laid his head on your chest and listened to the sound of your erratic heartbeat. 

You laid like this for a while until you were both breathing at a normal rhythm and Spencer untangled himself from your arms and got to his feet. He tucked himself away and tugged his pants back up before buttoning them. 

“I’m gonna run you a bubble bath.” He smiled softly down at you. 

“You gonna join me in it?” You smiled back sleepily. 

“Sadly not, I realised I left my wallet at Bennington.” He went to head towards the bathroom but he didn’t get far. 

“You had your wallet at dinner.” You sat up, frowning at the back of his head. 

Spencer froze in his tracks. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. 

“Uh,” he turned back to face you, quickly trying to think on his feet, which would be a lot easier if his head wasn’t still hazy from his orgasm. “Not my wallet, I meant the burner phone. I should go and get it.” 

You scrutinised him for a moment but thankfully for him your own head was also bleary and wouldn’t allow you to think too much into it. 

“Ok.” You shrugged, flopping back to the couch. 

Spencer exhaled heavily, continuing on his way to the bathroom. He started the water, pouring in an ample amount of bubble bath and leaving the tub to fill. 

“There’s a bar downstairs and a spa, even a casino. If you get bored with the bath and I’m not back, go nuts.” He spoke as headed back into the room, locating the bottle of red wine he’d had sent to the room before you arrived. 

He made quick work of the cork and poured you a large glass before coming back over to the couch and dropping down next to you. He handed you the glass and you sat yourself up against the cushions again. 

“Hmm I like honeymoons.” You smiled, bringing your glass to your lips and taking a small sip. 

Moments later your face fell and you gagged, thrusting the glass back at Spencer before leaping from the couch and running as fast as your legs could carry you to the bathroom. 

Spencer heard the toilet seat slam back against the cistern and then the distinctive sound of vomiting echoed around the room.

Realistically he was smart enough to figure out what was going on, as were you, but both of your heads were clouded by other thoughts and so you both missed the obvious. 

Spencer padded back to the bathroom and found you on your knees, wiping your hand over your mouth. You looked up at him with large, sad eyes. 

“The wine turned against me.” You whined. “Goddamn gas-and-go hotdogs.” 

Spencer smiled sadly at you and slid to the floor next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as the bath continued to fill behind him. 

“Are you going to be ok if I pop out?” Please god say yes, I need this, it has to be tonight. 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. It’s passed again now, I guess I just won’t be drinking any wine tonight.” You sighed. “You go, do your thing.” 

“As long as you’re sure.” Spencer pushed himself back to his feet and then held his hands out to help you up. 

“Of course. Do you think you’ll be gone for long?” 

“No idea, traffic at this time of night will probably be a pain, but I promise I’ll hurry.” He stroked your hair back from your face. 

“Ok.” You nodded, lowering yourself to sit on the edge of the tub. “Go, I’m fine. I can run a bath.” 

“I won’t be long.” He went to kiss you but then thought better of it as your breath smelt like vomit. Instead he kissed his first and middle finger and then placed them on your lips making you chuckle. 

Soon he was heading out of the room in search of his bag so he could change into jeans and t-shirt. The weapons were in the Chevvy’s glovebox, ready for their next assignment. 

He dressed quickly and got his shoes on, throwing on a hoodie before grabbing the car keys and heading to the door. 

“Be safe, sweetheart.” He called as he reached for the handle. 

“Love you.” You replied and it made his heart swell every time he heard you say that. 

As he opened the door, his wedding ring caught his eye and he rolled his lip between his teeth. He forced open the door, ignoring the way his heart practically exploded when he looked at his ring. He had a job to focus on. 

But the truth was, you were the only thing keeping him together. He was lost and you’d found him, taken him in and patched him up. His scars both mental and physical didn’t phase you, if anything you’d loved him harder because of them. You’d fixed him up in ways you’d never understand and he hoped he wasn’t making a huge mistake in what he was about to do. 

He was fairly certain you’d never walk away from him, that nothing he could do could be worse than the things he’d already put you through. Because he was sure one day all that thread keeping him together would come unravelled and if he had no one there to stitch him back up again he would be torn so deeply there would be no repairing him. And god only knows how quickly a broken man would devolve.

No, it's no wonder I feel broken,

Are you the one to fix me up, patching up the work they done?

Try and sew me,

So thread the needle, tie it off, teach me how to trust someone.

Really hoping that you stay,

That you never walk away,

Every word I shouldn't say, I shouldn't say, I shouldn't say it.

Do you feel the stress in me,

Steady bursting at the seams?

You're the only one I need to make me complete, yeah.

Stitch me up, stitch me up, don't tear me apart,

I've been stuck in the rut, patched up in the dark.

Stitch me up, stitch me up, there's pins in my heart, oh,

Pardon all my precious scars.

No, it's no wonder you've been feeling,

Like a doll in lost and found, so mistreated, thrown around.

Who you kidding? (You kidding),

Every flaw and every fray, that's what makes you sexy to me.

Really hoping that I stay,

I could never walk away,

Every word we shouldn't say, we shouldn't say, we shouldn't say it.

Do you feel the stress in me,

Steady bursting at the seams?

You're the only one I need to make me complete, yeah.

Stitch me up, stitch me up, don't tear me apart,

I've been stuck in the rut, patched up in the dark.

Stitch me up, stitch me up, there's pins in my heart, oh,

Pardon all my precious scars.

Elegant and broken, tasteful, tattered clothing,

I guess we've been caught in the middle of love.

Motive through emotion, damaged but we're golden,

I guess we've been caught in the middle of love.

Elegant and broken, tasteful, tattered clothing,

I guess we've been caught in the middle of love.

Motive through emotion, damaged but we're golden,

I guess we've been caught in the middle of love.

Stitch me up, stitch me up, don't tear me apart,

I've been stuck in the rut, patched up in the dark.

Stitch me up, stitch me up, there's pins in my heart, oh,

Pardon all my precious scars.

Really hoping that you stay,

Pray you never walk away,

Pardon all my precious scars.

Stitch me up, stitch me up, there's pins in my heart,

Oh, pardon all my precious scars.

@bubblebuttwade @jay-2s-world @daddy-dotcom @nomajdetective

[sharkfoodstore]

For all that people meme on the fortune teller, i feel like people often don't realize the point of that scene (forbidden scrollery spoilers)

Like, I have seen many people go "well, she was doing what she had to do, you know? It is what it is. He kinda was the bad guy first."

and like, I really don't think that's the case. I feel like her actions here are definitely wrong.

For example, the end of the chapter has this moment.

This, to me, is implying that if Kosuzu keeps going down the path she's going, reimu is worried she will have to kill her as well.

Forbidden Scrollery is about the relationship between humans and youkai, the balances and imbalances of power between them, and kosuzu's choice between both sides. This is the moment that sets up the stakes of this conflict. If kosuzu chooses the side of the youkai, she will be betrayed and killed by Reimu. Yukari says this outright.

I think its very relevant that yukari is the one saying this, because she's also someone who started human and became a youkai. She made the same choice kosuzu and the fortune teller did.

And we see similar motives echoed by both characters.

Both of these people have just learned that their entire lives are a truman-show like reality where they're kept alive solely so the youkai can keep them living in fear in order to keep themselves alive. Reimu, in this instance, is murdering one of them because if too many people found out they could become youkai they all would stop being controlled and scared and the youkai would cease to be. Reimu is actively working against humanity here. This casts Reimu in a pretty negative light, because we absolutely do not want Reimu to kill Kosuzu. It's what gives those final chapters so much tension.

This is the ultimate morally gray moment of the series in my opinion. It is revealed in forbidden scrollery that reimu is not working for the humans, she is working to maintain a balance set up by youkai for the sake of the youkai.

Im not claiming that the fortune teller was "right all along about everything and is the true good guy of the series" or whatever. The knowledge he has would have led to the death of every youkai. And as the manga goes on to say, the current peace kind of works well enough from one perspective at times, both sides technically holding equal power in the relationship and the youkai technically working for the sake of humanity while also using them. Part of what makes Forbidden Scrollery so good IS the messy and complicated morality that is explored throughout the manga. It is some of the best touhou media in existence for that reason. The youkai are fighting for survival, and aren't actively killing humans, but can the humans really be asked to give up their freedom and live in ignorance like this? It is a complicated question that the series struggles to answer.

So while I do think its fun to joke about how Reimu straight up kills a guy, due to the lack of people talking about the fortune teller I just wanted to bring this up. I feel like understanding that he was actually kinda right about many things in that scene really elevates forbidden scrollery's writing and themes, and also does a lot for both Reimu, Yukari, and Kosuzu's arcs throughout the manga.

[david-talks-sw]

MORE evidence that George Lucas wasn't involved in the Expanded Universe...

Almost a year ago, I wrote a verrry detailed post that explained just how little involvement Lucas had with the old Expanded Universe. There were 109 quotes used as sources, back then.

Recently, I came across 17 more so I figured I'd share:

George Lucas quotes:

So the above is him saying he doesn't actually get involved too deeply, that the EU stories were done outside his universe, that he didn't follow up on them and tried not to think of them.

We could stop right here. But let's keep going.

Quotes from other people:

People repeating that George was barely involved at all, that EU writers could pretty much write what they wanted beyond a few minor limitations, that EU stories weren't canon to the films:

(note: did a typo on Brett Rector's name, in the third one)

Similar ideas from Lucasfilm's Leland Chee and Pablo Hidalgo. Chee, in particular states something that encapsulates the whole Lucas/EU dynamic: Lucas wasn't beholden to the EU, but the EU had to adapt to Lucas' story. By and large, it was a one-way relationship.

(note: I revised the prompts Hidalgo was responding so they're easier to consume, for the unrevised thread you can go on his Twitter page).

This next one is interesting, because it shows Lucas was indeed less uninvolved during the 90s, what with answering 'OK/Not OK' questionnaires and such... before he became too busy with the Prequels, The Clone Wars and revolutionizing the film industry.

Here's just a collection of Tim Truman interviews where he explains how he created the lore surrounding the Tuskens' and their way of life, A'Sharad Hett, and the backstory for Aurra Sing.

None of that lore came from Lucas (and you'll notice that Aurra Sing's EU backstory wasn't acknowledged in any way when she appeared in The Clone Wars, which Lucas did oversee).

Finally, here are Karen Traviss' statements regarding the reason she stepped away from Star Wars. It's interesting to look at this because it's a prime example of just how little the EU's lore factored into Lucas' creative decision:

(note: this is a heavily condensed version of way longer blog posts, in which she also explained that business reasons factored into her decision)

This case is also interesting because it reinforces the fact that the narrative content of the EU didn't align with Lucas' intentions, as illustrated by what both Sam Witwer and Henry Gilroy had to say about Traviss' outlook on the Star Wars universe.

We also explored the subject in this post where we compare the rhetoric Lucas and Traviss use when referring to Dooku and Yoda.

Aaaand that's it, that's the new stuff!

BOTTOM LINE:

Just because the EU content came out while George Lucas was in charge does not mean that it aligned with his views on Star Wars. You can't use "Lucas owning the company" as an authority argument to validate the EU because:

It doesn't need validating, they're great stories.

He wasn't really involved in the development of those stories. He barely gave a crap.

For the original post with the 109 quotes, you can read it here:

[halfagonyandhope]

ignite the stars │ch. 13

first chapter (x); previous chapter (x)

Satine Kryze is an internationally-recognized scholar in genocide studies who recently resigned from the Department of State over her concerns regarding the agency's ethics. Ben Kenobi is a tenured professor at Georgetown University studying the use of religion to justify military conflicts. Once high school sweethearts, the two haven't spoken since parting ways for university. That is, until Satine accepts a research fellowship - at Georgetown.

---

Satine steps on the newly fallen leaves aggressively, but it does nothing to satisfy the rage that is building within her.

It’s about a week past peak fall colors, and the leaves haven’t yet been cleared from the grounds of Edward J. Kelly Park. She paces through the piles of detritus, knowing she needs to head inside but also knowing actually going inside will lead her one step closer to surrendering her badge.

She looks up at the Harry S. Truman Building before her.

The Department of State had taken over the building from the Department of War in the 1940s, becoming its primary tenant and consolidating many of State’s once-dispersed employees into one centralized location. The Truman Building is State’s headquarters, and it’s been Satine’s home for the past five years.

She knows that will end today.

Satine sighs. She’d wanted to believe the change of employees in the 40s - from War to State - had been symbolic of the shift of business that occurred within the building’s walls. But the work she’s been doing there, the work she’d hoped to devote her life to, has convinced her otherwise.

The Department of War may have been rebranded as the Department of Defense and moved to the Pentagon, but its intellectual descendants still occupy the Truman Building.

It starts to drizzle, and Satine steels herself, finally heading forward. She crosses the street and opens one of the massive glass doors to State HQ. She shows security her badge - the last time she knows she’ll be able to do so - so that she can bypass the metal detectors, which are reserved for non-employees visiting the National Museum of American Diplomacy, a small exhibit in the first foyer. Then Satine enters the next foyer, taking her place in the line forming behind the turnstiles. When it’s her turn, she opens the gate using her badge, and moves forward.

Then she makes her way to the seventh floor.

The main elevators, of course, do not even stop at the seventh floor for security reasons, so she is escorted through a secondary elevator. The doors open, and she’s met with a view of the Secretary of State’s team’s main work area. It’s grandiose and designed to impress, with mahogany walls and portraits of diplomats she admires. It’s not her first meeting on this floor, but it will be her last.

Her escort - SecState’s Chief of Staff - walks her back to the Secretary’s office. Satine can’t help but notice the stares that follow her. The Chief of Staff knocks on the ornate door and shows her inside.

“Mr. Secretary,” says Satine, and the Chief of Staff exits the office, closing the door behind him.

Secretary Palpatine looks up from a desk that’s very likely older than he is. 

“Ms. Kryze,” he says, and Satine has to fight the urge to correct the honorific. “You know why you’re here.”

“Actually,” says Satine. “I’d quite like to hear it from you.”

Palpatine stands and walks slowly around the desk to lean back against it, staring her down. “You’ve been deemed a security risk by your superiors. They’ve recommended suspension of your security clearance.”

Satine straightens her spine. “On what grounds?”

Palpatine looks at her as though the answer is obvious. “The summary report you submitted for publication clearance. It is rife with misinformation. Misinformation that could damage diplomatic relationships with our allies.”

Satine had already worked this out for herself, of course, but she thinks she deserves to hear it out loud.

“Misinformation?” she says, taking careful pains to keep her voice level. “You mean my conclusion, based on literally hundreds of hours of key informant interviews, that the United States is committing genocide abroad and covering it up? I fail to see how that is misinformation.”

Palpatine steps forward, irate. “You misrepresented our military strategies.”

“I think I represented those strategies fairly well. How else do you spin blocking aid while simultaneously facilitating sales of fighter jets and missiles to the affected region? How else do you explain our military assisting the occupying military in the direct targeting of innocent civilians?”

The Secretary is two steps from her now, and she can see the wrinkles around his eyes, the lines that appear on his forehead, the gauntness of his eyes. “Your lies will threaten diplomatic order.”

“What you mean is that the truth is so powerful that it has the potential to fracture alliances. And it will.”

“Insolent woman,” spits out Palpatine. “The stability of the modern world is not for you to decide.”

“And it’s not for you to dictate!” says Satine.

Palpatine sneers at her. “I read the entirety of the report on the region. Claims of mass killings, bodily harm, sterilizations, ethnic cleansing, stealing children. All lies.”

“All statements were corroborated by multiple witnesses. All claims involved American military personnel.”

Palpatine returns to his desk to grab a stack of papers. He shoves them toward Satine. “My office has reviewed the report and redacted anything we consider to be highly classified.”

Satine glances down at the report, knowing what she’ll find. As she expects, the entirety of the report is blacked out. None of her analyses survived the publication clearance process.

She doesn’t reach out to take the papers.

Instead, Palpatine tosses it on the accent cabinet to his side. “We demand higher standards here,” he hisses. “Your badge.” And he holds out his hand, expectant.

Satine reaches for the lanyard she’s wearing around her neck, and then hands him both badges - the one she uses for entering the building, and the one she uses to log into her classified email account. She’d known it would come to this; she’d been preparing. It is why she has a backup plan and a backup plan for that plan, both of which she’s in the process of interviewing for.

Palpatine takes the badges and drops them into his breast pocket. “We have another matter to discuss,” he adds, his voice low. “Your op-ed.”

It had been published this morning.

It had lacked the teeth she’d wanted to give it, but she’d been limited in what she could say given the information that hadn’t yet been cleared for release to the general public. But she’d laid the groundwork, provided a roadmap, so that anyone else with concerns about the State Department’s ethics could put the pieces together for themself.

“It would be a shame,” begins Palpatine, “if your academic reputation were to suffer as collateral from all of this. I understand you’re on a green card? I’m sure you know that I’m quite friendly with the Secretary of Homeland Security. I mention this because if something were to happen to that reputation of yours, it may be difficult for you to find employment. And employment, of course, is necessary for you to retain said green card.”

Palpatine catches the way her shoulders sink a fraction of an inch. He smiles.

“Toe the line, Ms. Kryze,” he warns her. “If you cross it, I will know. And you’ll never set foot back on American soil. Or at another academic institution, American or otherwise.”

And it’s like he’s reached between her ribs to grab her lungs, lacerating them as he extracts them. For the first time since publishing her op-ed, Satine feels genuine fear.

Palpatine returns to his desk, sitting down. He doesn’t look at her. “My Chief of Staff will escort you out the building.”

Satine swallows the bile that rises in her throat, swallows any pride she has left, and turns on her heel.

---

“Satine?”

Ben’s voice is like a homing beacon, dragging her from the abyss of her nightmare.

“Satine?”

She sits up, suddenly far too warm, suddenly nauseated, pushing back from Ben’s embrace.

“I’m going to be sick,” she says, and she scrambles to her feet from the couch, racing for the washroom. She barely makes it before emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

Suddenly, sure fingers ghost the back of her neck, holding her hair back from her face as her chest heaves. But there’s nothing left to empty, and Satine sinks onto the cool tile below her. “I’m sorry,” she whispers to Ben. “You spent a lot of time making that bibimbap.”

He ignores this. “Are you okay?” he asks.

“I’m used to it,” Satine manages to say.

“That didn’t answer my question,” says Ben, sitting down beside her and resting a hand on her knee.

“No,” Satine admits. “It didn’t.”

“How long have the nightmares been going on?” he asks. “You didn’t use to get them, back when we were young. I would have noticed.”

Satine just looks at him.

“Since you left State?” he guesses.

Her silence is response enough. Then she looks up at him weakly.

“I survived Srebrenica,” she whispers. “But the trifle of getting fired is what breaks me? It doesn’t make sense. Is this some kind of cosmic punishment for not being brave enough?”

She hasn’t been spiritual in her entire adult life, but she’s beginning to wonder. Could the nightmares, the panic attacks, the night terrors…could it all have been avoided if she’d been strong enough to choose the other path? If she’d spoken out regardless of the Secretary’s warnings, if she’d revealed the findings of her report to the diplomatic community? Is this the price she must pay for her cowardice?

She’d taken what she thought was the only option. If she’d spoken out, she’d have become unhireable. She’d have been deported. She’d have had no means of supporting herself.

But what in the hell is one supposed to do when the only option is the wrong one?

Satine can’t meet Ben’s eyes, can’t bring herself to see what he’s thinking. And she knows, knows deep in her bones - her soul - that she can’t ever tell him any of this. Ben fell in love with her all those years ago because she was forthright. Because she was brave. She’s not either of those things any longer.

It is, she realizes, the reason she’d agreed to their fake relationship in the first place - for if he knew the fear behind the façade, she knows he wouldn’t fall in love with her again. 

Shame threatens to overwhelm her as she examines all the ways she is inadequate of his devotion. He deserves better. He deserves a woman who stands beside her ideals, who is willing to give everything to defend them, who is willing to give everything to fight for them.

She is not that woman.

But she is selfish. And she’s scared. And Ben is a light in a darkness that is nearly all-consuming these days, and she can’t give him up, even if she knows she’s dooming them to a life of infinite sadness.

“Satine,” says Ben. “No, no, no. What are you saying?”

She finally meets his eyes, realizes she’s said too much even by saying so little. She bites her lip, refusing to reveal any more.

Ben clears his throat. “Look, Satine, I’m not a psychiatrist, and - even if I were - I’m a bit too close to the patient to make an impartial diagnosis, but you know you also have PTSD, right?”

His hand on her knee provides a welcome weight, a welcome warmth.

When she doesn’t respond, he asks, “Your previous therapist didn’t tell you?”

Satine stares at the wall over his shoulder, feeling her vision blur. “I haven’t seen that therapist since I lost my health insurance through State,” she admits. “And before I left State, I wasn’t having these symptoms.”

Ben nods. “When you were seeing your previous therapist, there might not have been anything apparent to diagnose.”

Ben leans toward her. 

“You said it didn’t make sense,” he says quietly. “So listen to me: trauma isn’t rational. It doesn’t make sense. You’ve survived more in thirty-six years than most people would witness in several lifetimes. That takes a toll. It accumulates. Your body is telling you now that you’ve reached your limit.” He reaches for her hand. “In fairness, I think your type of PTSD is probably due to many, many things you’ve endured rather than just one inciting incident. It’s called complex PTSD, if you want to do a deep dive into it on your own later.”

Satine sags against the tile of the bathroom wall, letting this sink in. It’s like whiplash between two horrible extremes, the way her thoughts swirl in her mind, and she can’t think straight, can’t find her bearings.

“I thought you knew,” Ben says quietly, “otherwise I would have asked you about it weeks ago.”

Satine wipes the sweat from her brow, then wipes at her eyes. 

“You think you can stand up?” asks Ben.

Satine squeezes his hand. “Can we just stay here for a minute?” she asks.

He reaches for her other hand in response, and doesn’t leave her side.

[deadpresidents]

Just saw Oppenheimer and I was a bit disappointed with how they portrayed Truman. He came across pretty poorly IMO. It was only one scene but I wondered what you thought.

I understand your disappointment and it certainly wasn't a very in-depth portrayal of Truman, but according to the book that the movie was largely based on -- American Prometheus: The Triumph and Tragedy of J. Robert Oppenheimer by Kai Bird and Martin J. Sherwin (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO) -- the meeting that Oppenheimer had with President Truman went down pretty much as depicted in the film.

As Bird and Sherwin write in American Prometheus:

(O)n October 25, 1945, Oppenheimer was ushered into the Oval Office. President Truman was naturally curious to meet the celebrated physicist, whom he knew by reputation to be an eloquent and charismatic figure. After being introduced by Secretary [of War Robert P.] Patterson, the only other individual in the room, the three men sat down. By one account, Truman opened the conversation by asking for Oppenheimer's help in getting Congress to pass the May-Johnson bill, giving the Army permanent control over atomic energy. "The first thing is to define the national problem," Truman said, "then the international." Oppenheimer let an uncomfortably long silence pass and then said, haltingly, "Perhaps it would be best first to define the international problem." He meant, of course, that the first imperative was to stop the spread of these weapons by placing international controls over all atomic technology. At one point in their conversation, Truman suddenly asked him to guess when the Russians would develop their own atomic bomb. When Oppie replied that he did not know, Truman confidently said he knew the answer: "Never." For Oppenheimer, such foolishness was proof of Truman's limitations. The "incomprehension it showed just knocked the heart out of him," recalled Willie Higinbotham. As for Truman, a man who compensated for his insecurities with calculated displays of decisiveness, Oppenheimer seemed maddeningly tentative, obscure -- and cheerless. Finally, sensing that the President was not comprehending the deadly urgency of his message, Oppenheimer nervously wrung his hands and uttered another of those regrettable remarks that he characteristically made under pressure. "Mr. President," he said quietly, "I feel I have blood on my hands." The comment angered Truman. He later informed David Lilienthal, "I told him the blood was on my hands -- to let me worry about that." But over the years, Truman embellished the story. By one account, he replied, "Never mind, it'll all come out in the wash." In yet another version, he pulled his handkerchief from his breast pocket and offered it to Oppenheimer, saying, "Well, here, would you like to wipe your hands?" An awkward silence followed this exchange, and then Truman stood up to signal that the meeting was over. The two men shook hands, and Truman reportedly said, "Don't worry, we're going to work something out, and you're going to help us." Afterwards, the President was heard to mutter, "Blood on his hands, dammit, he hasn't half as much blood on his hands as I have. You just don't go around bellyaching about it." He later told [Secretary of State] Dean Acheson, "I don't want to see that son-of-a-bitch in this office ever again." Even in May 1946, the encounter still vivid in his mind, he wrote Acheson and described Oppenheimer as a "cry-baby scientist" who had come to "my office some five or six months ago and spent most of his time wringing his hands and telling me they had blood on them because of the discovery of atomic energy."

[mariacallous]

It was the literary scandal of the decade, the ultimate betrayal and, it turned out, the end of Truman Capote’s career. Published in Esquire in November 1975, “La Côte Basque 1965”, an excerpt from Capote’s then-forthcoming novel Answered Prayers, saw the celebrated writer share the innermost secrets (and most scandalous gossip) entrusted to him by his beloved Swans, the wealthy and glamorous group of high-society women that included Babe Paley, Slim Keith, Gloria Guinness, Lee Radziwill, Marella Agnelli and CZ Guest.

Visceral in its revelations of substance abuse, sexual assault, a murder cover-up, a graphic description of extra-marital period sex and, to top it off, bestiality, the article was a sensation for all the wrong reasons. It saw Capote deserted by his closest friends and shunned from the New York clique he had yearned to be a part of growing up – and, against the odds, had managed to infiltrate as an adult thanks to the success of his novels In Cold Blood and Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

Capote’s questionable actions (and the irresistible drama they precipitated) form the backbone of Ryan Murphy’s long-awaited Feud, inspired by Laurence Leamer’s bestselling 2021 book, Capote’s Women. An all-star cast will bring the man and his muses back to life when the Gus Van Sant-directed series premieres this month on FX in the US, but what was the real-life fallout from the publication of “La Côte Basque 1965” like for Capote and co?

“He never recovered from it,” says Ebs Burnough, director of the 2021 documentary The Capote Tapes, a five-year discovery project that saw him uncover hours of audio footage of Capote, and which gives the most thorough insight into the flawed figure to date. “[These were] friendships born and nurtured over 20-something years. All of a sudden, not one but all of his friends – who had been like his family, because he didn’t really have any family – were not speaking to him; there was literally nowhere for him to go. He was alone drinking, and the phone stopped ringing. He was a man alone on an island.”

Described by the New York Times as “the high-society temple of French cuisine”, La Côte Basque – just off Fifth Avenue and a stone’s throw from The Plaza – was a fine-dining eatery as famous for its juicy gossip as it was for its succulent Coeur de Filet Périgourdine. No one, however, dared to write about what was said and done there – until Capote. While his ostracising may seem like an obvious consequence for spilling society’s sordid secrets, Capote was flawed by the outrage.

Before publication, he boasted to People that he was planning on assassinating his characters with a pen instead of a gun: “There’s the handle, the trigger, the barrel, and, finally, the bullet. And when that bullet is fired from the gun, it’s going to come out with a speed and power like you’ve never seen – wham!”

Success was, in his head, assured, as Capote had been open about writing “La Côte Basque 1965”, bragging about the stories he would tell, continues Burnough. “He was working on that piece for over 20 years, so in his mind he didn’t anticipate the fall out because all of them knew he was working on it.” Upon the outrage, Capote was, “totally abandoned but also indignant”, he continues. “He even said, ‘Hey! What did they expect from me? I’m a writer!’”

Capote had form. “Remember, this was something he had done with Breakfast at Tiffany’s,” explains Burnough. “When you think about it, Holly Golightly is essentially a call girl, yet with Audrey Hepburn [playing her], and because it was so beautifully written, lots of New York socialites were saying, ‘Holly was based on me!’ There’s [even] a quote in The Capote Tapes where Babe’s daughter [Kate] says, ‘Mummy was so excited to be immortalised by such a famous author.’ So, I think he was certainly expecting great praise.”

Babe Paley was Capote’s most aggrieved victim of “La Côte Basque 1965”. In it, Slim Keith’s alias, Lady Ina Coolbirth, reveals to the fictionalised version of Capote, PB Jones, the story that Paley is said to have told Capote about catching her husband, CBS head Bill, in bed with another woman. When Capote rang the Paley household to see what they thought of “La Côte Basque”, Bill is said to have lied, claiming that it was thrown out before either of them could read it; a distraught Babe, who had read it, and who considered Capote her closest confidante, had terminal lung cancer at the time of its publication and never spoke to Capote again before her death in 1978.

Such dismissal of his work would have affected Capote, says Burnough, but the fallout from the Swans leaving him would have been even worse. “Babe Paley was his North Star. She was everything he aspired to be and everything his mother aspired to be. [His mother] had always wanted to be a socialite, so his obsession came from her wanting but not being a part of that world, and then abandoning him as a child. There’s a lot of mother psychology there.”

It makes total sense that Babe Paley was the victim of Capote’s worst betrayal, says Lisa Pomerantz, the New York-based brand expert with a lifelong obsession with Capote and his era of social commentators. “She was the one that opened up the most to him. He took total advantage of her because the others – Lee Radziwill, CZ Guest [et al] – were always more guarded,” she says. “The question is, did he do it knowingly? He was a tortured soul, mostly because of his relationship with his mother – that combined with his natural obsession with this aspirational life and Babe and Bill being the epitome of it.”

Having been sent from New Orleans to Alabama to be raised by relatives after his parents’ divorce, Capote is said to have been a lonely, introverted child searching for a sense of belonging. So why, having infiltrated the glitzy New York scene as a bonafide player, did he blow it all up?

In tandem with craving acceptance, psychologist Carolyn Mair muses that, deep down, Capote resented the world he had managed to become a part of. “People warmed to him and wanted to protect him as he projected an identity of both child and woman, yet his wit could be razor sharp. His ability to remember conversations verbatim made him a good source of gossip,” she says. “Yet as his psychological problems worsened, it seems reasonable to assume that his judgement also worsened.” Shocking others, she adds, “can also be a way of getting attention”.

The backlash from other circles would also have been keenly felt by Capote, continues Mair. “The Swans were the high society who lived aspirational lives and were the envy of women across the States and elsewhere,” she says. “Ordinary people would have read about these women and their lifestyles in the press and fashion magazines and would relate to them as if they were also their friends. The publication of ‘La Côte Basque 1965’ would likely have triggered a shocked sense of betrayal amongst the readers of popular and fashion press at the time.”

Perhaps the most interesting upshot of the “La Côte Basque 1965” scandal, though? The ways in which it laid the groundwork for tabloid culture, says Burnough. “This was an era [in America] when no one even talked about the fact that Franklin Roosevelt was in a wheelchair, let alone the affairs people were having, let alone as graphically as Truman did. As the late, great John Richardson said, ‘[Capote] took the lid off a pile of shit’ and it started the exposé culture we have today. It was a real ‘gotcha!’ moment for the rich and famous.”

[blissfali]

after episode 3 of genloss i finally decided to finish watching the truman show and the "dont take off the mask itll end the show" portion of genloss reminded me so badly of how the minute truman got off the show and just left the movie ended with the audience just fucking. Switching channels. because yeah. you remove the one thing your entire show is banking on and everyone leaves. if ranboo removed his mask and revealed his face everyone wouldve left because they wouldve had their answer, the "what if" or "what could be". i just thought thta was sick as fuck

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

tell me about an au/oc of your choosing?

sorry for being so late to this, i saw it day-of and i didn't have time to answer it (plus i don't do very will with non-direct questions for some reason) so my apologies!!!

gonna talk about the truman show au cuz it's rotting my brain:

love the idea (I say to the brain possessing my skull) of moon.ai being aware of when Moon is able to see what's going on in sun's simulation-it doesn't happen very often, but sometimes the virus will give Moon a short snapshot of sun's side of the mindscape to decrease his moral-and having back and forth code conversations that sun isn't aware of. Moon is extremely uncomfortable with how well moon.ai mimics his personality-then again, he is basically a replica of Moon's code with different protocols-Moon wonders how different the two of them really are. Would he have turned out like this one if he hadn't gotten the virus? Is he even the original Moon, or has he been wiped and recreated so many times that there's no way to tell? What separates him from the entity in front of him? Is he any different, any better, any worse? Even if he and Sun did ever leave, would Sun ever like him as much as the copy?

moon.ai doesn't usually engage with the interloper-he's not supposed to be here on its domain, to be around Sun and ruin his perfectly constructed day-by its calculations, it had been the closest they'd gotten to meeting the Sun's standard 'goodDay'-it hadn't had to reset the domain in 3 weeks! Stellar progress, considering the frequency of the previous alterations as of late; it had taken a while to finally set all the variables to the perfect settings for complete satisfaction and avoid triggering the Sun's trip-wire protocols, and some scrapped model wasn't about to ruin it for them. Sun didn't need the prototype- that's what it was for, to distract and entertain the solar counterpart and keep him safe and happy!

Which is somewhat difficult to do with a ghost-like specter hovering over him and screaming in their intermeshed headspace.

[guerillas-of-history]

Hi! Love your page and everything I've learned from it. It's really opened up my eyes to alot of things that I've never even imagined! Which is why I have to ask because I can't find a correct answer or logical thought process to it.

Why does the U.S support the appartied Isreal state? I truly can't come up with a logical reason to it and really sorry if you've brought it up before but I'm truly lost on why it's been like that.

Thank you for the work you put in to this page 🌻

Dear anon, thank you so much for your kind words, I am truly glad you think so. I apologize that its been a few weeks since you sent this, I've been trying to articulate a satisfactory and succinct response. With the monumental events currently underway, now is maybe the most appropiate time to try and answer.

U.S. support for israel started in 1948, with president Harry S. Truman being the first world leader to recognize the state of israel. This was because Truman's old buisness partner Edward Jacobson spent years laying the groundwork alongside zionist leader Dr. Chaim Weizmann (who would become israel's first president) this was in the aftermath of World War 2 and European powers were exhausted and former colonies were starting to rise up and throw off the imperial yoke. Simultaneously the Cold War began to take shape, the Middle East with its oil and strategic waterways such as the Suez Canal proved to be one of the sought after areas for American hegemony, concurrent to this the Soviet Union had been supporting secular Arab Nationalism as a counterpoint to the nascent zionist state. Perhaps the two most important events explaining the unequaled support for israel by the U.S. are the Six Day War in 1967 and The October War of 1973. In the 1950s the CIA recognized israel as a "logical corollary" against the radical nationalism growing in the Middle East. In June 1967 israel defeated the combined armies of Egypt, Syria, and Jordan in just six days, israel then proved to be the United State's greatest ally in the region capable of both defending and projecting U.S. interests. In 1973 Egypt and Syria launched a massive suprise attack on Yom Kippur, the war was fought to a relative stalemate with heavy casualties on both sides. Henry Kissenger traveled between the nations and help negotiate a ceasefire utilizing what became known as "Shuttle Diplomacy" the U.S. used the aftermath of the war to subvert Soviet influence, particularly in Egypt. America laid groundwork for normalization of ties between the two foes, with it being finally cemented in 1979, even though israel is almost universally despised by the Egyptian people. Since then U.S. support for israel had only increased exponentially with israel becoming by far the largest recipient of American aid since WWII. In 2016 then president Barack Obama gave 38 billion dollars alone, through a defence agreement. U.S. support over the last half century have enabled israel to grow into the monster it is today, israeli apartheid and systematic oppression of the Palestinian people is one of the greatest crimes of the last one hundred years.

This is an incredibly complicated question, and I'm sure I've missed some key points and its hard to summerize this subject concisely. I haven't even gotten into domestic support for israel as well as other external factors. If there are any specifics you would like to know please feel free to send me an ask or message me directly, and if anyone has other valuable input I highly welcome it.

[tinyinvadr]

New chapter!

Psychoborrower 2

Chapter 14

The only thing left keeping us from turning on the Astralathe was the assortment of thick vines wrapped around it. We couldn’t PSI-Blast through them, and they were too thorny to pull apart. We needed help from a plant expert.

Similarly to the bees, the vines left a trail to follow. They obviously had a source. One that we would surely find at the end of the trail.

Along the way, we crossed paths with Adam, who was in the middle of studying a large carnivorous plant. God, those things freak me out.

“Adam? Is everyone out here? Geez, I thought this place was supposed to be super secure and hidden.”

He chuckled. “Lili sent me to find some plants to help Truman. Though, these ones seem a little too aggressive.”

Just as he said that, the leaves of the plant snapped shut, nearly snatching up his hat.

“What about you? What brings you two out here?”

Once again, we gave a very vague explanation about the Astralathe, and Adam decided to join us on our search, figuring he’d be bound to find a suitable plant if he stuck with us. I felt bad not telling him that Truman was actually awake, but technically I wasn’t even supposed to know about that, so it wasn’t my place to share that information.

Adam examined the vines closer, then snapped his fingers as he came to a conclusion.

“This looks like the work of Bob Zanotto!”

Bob was the final member of the Psychic Six. Master of Herbaphony, uncle of Truman, and husband of Helmut Fullbear.

Raz paused, confused. “But Lili told me he got fired years ago. What would he still be doing here?”

“I’m not sure. My guess is he wanted to stay close to his plants due to his psychic connection with them. I know he had a greenhouse out here somewhere. I bet that’s where these vines came from.”

Sure enough, at the end of the path, we found the greenhouse. Inside was an intoxicated and disheveled-looking Bob, tending to a plant.

“Agent Zanotto-”

One of the vines threw an empty bottle, nearly missing us.

“Hey! That almost hit us!”

“Well, it was your choice to come in here.”

Adam stepped forward, attempting to address him again.

“We’re interns from the Motherlobe. I’m Adam, and this is Raz and Flint. We need your help with a few things. The Astralathe is covered in vines, and Truman-”

Bob suddenly commanded the vines to grab us and throw us out of the greenhouse.

“I don’t wanna hear about him anymore, you hear me?!”

Before we could argue any further, the vines slammed the door in our faces.

“Great. Now what do we do?”

My question was answered only a moment later as the vine, now calm, quietly pulled the door back open and beckoned us inside.

We reluctantly stepped back into the greenhouse, and the vine made no moves to attack us. Once again, Adam studied the plants.

“Hmm… I remember reading about this. You’re acting on Bob’s subconscious, aren’t you?”

The vine waved itself up and down, as if nodding.

“Which means… deep down, he wants help.”

The vine nodded again.

Raz showed it the psycho-portal.

“Do you think he’d mind if we checked in on him?”

The vine shook its head, then snatched the portal, placing it on Bob’s head and then turning him around for us. The three of us then astral projected into his mind

His mental world was a little island in the middle of the ocean. On it were three large flower pots, and we found Bob trying to tend to a desolate, lifeless garden.

“Strange… I don’t normally get visitors. It’s usually just me and my garden.”

I quickly scanned the dirt in the flower pots. The closest thing to plants I could see were a few dead-looking twigs.

“Uh, no offense, but this doesn’t look like much of a garden. Where are all the plants? Don’t you have any seeds?”

He sighed. “I lost those a long time ago. They’re scattered somewhere across the sea, but I’m not a good swimmer.”

Raz let out a nervous laugh. “Neither am I.”

There had to be some way for us to reach the other islands without swimming. The answer came to us in the form of the psycho-portal door.

For some reason, a manifestation of the door remained in Bob’s mind, and we were able to knock it over and use it as a raft, allowing us to travel across the water.

We asked Bob if he wanted to join us, but he seemed hesitant about getting on the raft. We promised we wouldn’t be gone for long, and headed off, following a trail of flower petals in the water until we reached another island.

The most notable feature was a large pink bottle, so we pulled the cork out and headed inside to investigate. The bottle led us into a kitchen, and at the end of it was a pink refrigerator that functioned as a doorway into a swamp. It was there that we found out first seed. And… a moth.

“Aww, it’s a moth! Hi mothy!”

“Huh? Oh, hi kid. What are you doing here?”

“Just getting some seeds for Bob’s garden.”

“What?! Oh no, you don’t wanna do that. Do you have any idea how dangerous those things are?”

The Moth took flight, taking the seed with it. We chased it down across the swamp, getting some help from belching bulbs that looked like Bob. Eventually, we followed the Moth into a ruined greenhouse belonging to Tia Zanotto, Bob’s mother.

There was a dark pit on the other side with a drain at the bottom, and the Moth dropped the seed down into it. We levitated down, entering a cavern illuminated by glowing bottles of liquor, pouring out their contents like waterfalls.

“Stay away from there! You’ll just put him in a bad mood.”

The aforementioned Bad Mood appeared. They have incredibly strong defenses, and cannot be attacked directly. Thankfully, Adam had experience dealing with them.

They key was to use Clairvoyance on the Bad Mood in order to see its source. Destroying the source calms the mood down, which makes it disappear.

Continuing on, we found another room in the greenhouse, though this one was almost completely flooded with liquor. At the far end, we found a coffin with a wooden replica of Tia inside.

The implication that she died of alcohol poisoning was very worrying considering the state we found Bob in. It seemed he had adopted her unhealthy coping mechanism.

After sifting through several empty bottles, the vines found the seed and gave it to us, and we returned to Bob’s island to plant it.

It only took a few minutes for the seed to sprout, growing into a pink rose that looked like Tia.

Bob was wary of the idea of planting more seeds, but we assured him that this would ultimately help him process his painful memories.

The next bottle we found led us to a shipwreck. Once again, the Moth showed up and took the seed before we could get it. It was aggravating, and even I had to admit it. Real moths are way cuter, anyway.

When we went inside the ship, the interior looked exactly like the Motherlobe, only flooded. After taking down another Bad Mood, we followed the Moth into the flooded depths of HQ. We took a Bob Bulb along with us so his belches would make an air bubble for us. It smelled really bad, but it was better than drowning.

We eventually made it to Truman’s office, and we found the seed at his desk. Like with Tia, there was a wooden Truman at the desk, and he looked like he was in the middle of shouting at someone. This had to be a memory of when Bob got fired.

The second seed sprouted into a plant that looked like Truman after we planted it. Bob seemed to be a bit more at ease with us continuing our search for seeds, seeing as nothing bad happened with the garden.

A third bottle surfaced, and we almost could’ve gotten the seed and left right away if Raz hadn’t provoked the Moth, but I couldn’t be too mad at him. The world within this bottle was a massive wedding cake, and damnit, I was gonna eat the walls!

We traversed through the cake until we finally found the seed at Bob and Helmut’s wedding ceremony. A wooden Helmut stood in front of the Feel Mobile, holding his hands out. This was the only happy memory we’d come across, but it was bittersweet knowing what happened in Grulovia. For all Bob knew, the love of his life was dead.

Recovering the three seeds pieced the story together, and it was heartbreaking. He was so distraught after losing Helmut that he fell into alcoholism. He became so dependent on it that Truman had to fire him, since he wasn’t in the right headspace to continue working with the Psychonauts.

Shortly after planting the final seed, the Helmut plant started to grow out of control, with the Tia and Truman plants doing the same. The Moth arrived, hovering in front of the monstrous plants.

“I tried to warn you, but did you listen to me? No. Now I need to protect Bob. AGAIN.”

It circled him, spinning a cocoon around him and guarding it as the plants began to attack. The skies darkened, and the sea became a whirlpool. Before we could do anything, the plants knocked us back. Luckily for us, we landed on the psycho-portal.

Adam deflected the plants’ projectiles with his yo-yo while Raz and I fired rapidly at them. We were able to temporarily knock them out, and Raz and I took that opportunity to break open Bob’s cocoon. His emotional distress unleashed a Bad Mood and a wide variety of negative thoughts. We were able to fight them off, but the Moth just knocked us back onto the raft.

Even after defeating the Bad Mood, Bob was fully willing to stay in the cocoon. We needed to get the plants under control. Raz decided to change tactics, and called out to the Helmut plant.

“Hey! Why are you doing this? I thought you loved Bob!”

“Ha! I don’t really love him!”

At that, Bob broke out of his cocoon.

“Helmut would never say that!”

The Moth grabbed onto him, dragging him away by force.

“It’s not safe here! Come with me. You won’t feel this at all.”

The three of us combined our power to take the plants down before the Moth could take him away, and soon, he regained control. The plants shrank back down, and the Moth became a mask, which Bob tossed aside.

“Thanks for your help, kids. I think I can handle this garden myself now.”

I looked out at the ocean and saw more seeds floating on the surface of the water. Those first three seeds were only the beginning on Bob’s road to recovery.

“Oh, don’t worry about those. I’ll just take them one at a time.”

We returned to the physical world, and Bob agreed to help us with the Astralathe. The four of us headed to the Heptadome, and shortly after we got there, Helmut showed up.

“What happened to your beard, Bobby? Are those gardening tools?”

Both Bob and Adam looked thoroughly confused. Raz and I kept quiet, though, thinking it might be better for Helmut to explain for himself.

“Bobby, it’s me. Your PSI King. My body’s still in Grulovia, so I’m borrowing this one. These kids found my brain earlier and helped me get back to my senses.”

Bob smiled. “They just helped me get back to mine, too. Oh, Helmut, I never thought I’d see you again! I mean… I’m not seeing YOU, but… you’re back.”

“Heh… Can’t get rid of me that easily. Now, come on, we’ve gotta do something about that beard. It’s a mess!”

The two of them walked off, seemingly forgetting about the vines. But as they left, the vines retracted, Bob’s link with them continuing even from a distance.

For a full minute, Adam stood there in shock.

“Wait, so… Helmut Fullbear is back? And his brain is in Nick Johnsmith’s body? This is huge! Does anyone else know?”

“Just Morris and Gisu. They’ve been brainstorming interview questions for K.L.O.B.”

“In that case, I’d better go fill them in! Who knows? Maybe l can convince them to interview you guys too! I can tell this is gonna be in the history books someday!”

Brimming with excitement, Adam rushed back to the Motherlobe, and Raz and I were alone once again.

“Okay… This is it, Flint. We’re gonna fix everything. You ready?”

I don’t think either of us were ready for what we were about to face. But we had to. For the sakes of both our families, we had to set things right.

“Nope. Let’s do it.”

[skysometric]

you went on a big asking spree asking about everyone's favorite games, but I'm curious... did you have a favorite album, TV show, or movie this year?

an EXCELLENT question! but my answers my be a little disappointing, because...

Favorite Movie of 2023

i don't... really watch movies? they don't capture my interest or investment like games do. this isn't for lack of trying over the years, i've been exposed to many different genres; i just don't click with the format, i guess. i think of them like the average boomer thinks of games – they're cute little distractions and not much else.

there's definitely a few movies that i like and stand out as formative memories, i just don't go out of my way to watch more. even before the pandemic i would only ever go to the theaters like once a year, and for most of the pandemic i can't say i watched anything even digitally.

...but that did change this year! my partner and i watched both Sonic movies and the Mario movie at home, and of the three i can safely say i enjoyed Sonic 2 the most! i like what it was trying to do with its two stories intertwined, and it gave Sonic and friends a lot of time to shine both in action and characterization. plus the finale was super cool~

i do have a handful of films i want to watch one day... but it's kind of a "whenever i feel like it" basis. the ghibli films are high on the list, as are the monty python films and the truman show. maybe i could revisit ferris bueller's day off now that i'm an adult...?

Favorite TV Show of 2023

...i also don't really watch tv?? am i boring???

i mean, historically, i've gotten more into tv than movies. i like the long continuous plot threads, i like getting to know characters in detail, i like slice of life and comedy and cartoons. i have fond memories of watching sonic x, spongebob, survivor, and mythbusters growing up!

but like, as an adult i've never seen the office, or steven universe, or adventure time... and i'm in no rush to, they're just not really priority for me. i can't even think of other shows i might want to watch. idk!

i tried to watch some anime at one point but that didn't really do me either? i guess i had some fun watching squid girl a few years back... i think i just get understimulated by just watching things, vs playing them.

confusingly, you know what i do get into? livestreams and let's plays. so my weird, cop-out answer of "favorite series" is that i've been really enjoying Chuggaaconroy's let's play of pokemon bw2. his let's plays have gotten me caught up with a series that i wasn't "allowed" to play as a kid... i guess that's part of why watching someone play a game isn't as understimulating to me?

Favorite Album of 2023

you can probably guess where this is going – i don't really listen to music that plays on the radio or gets recommended by spotify. i have good reason for this one though: music with lyrics is overstimulating to me in specific circumstances, like when i'm working (always) or driving (the only time i'd use the radio).

but wait, movies are understimulating, even though there's talking... and music with lyrics is overstimulating, even though there's nothing to watch... argh! i don't even understand myself!!

either way i usually put on video game music, because that helps me focus at work, and (usually) doesn't have lyrics in it. i'm aware there's plenty of great instrumental music outside of just games, but games already have so much variety and quality to their osts – i've rarely ever had to seek out more! my music collection is already big enough!

my favorite album to listen to this year has been the music that plays in the cyberspace stages of Sonic Frontiers. the full game's ost is MASSIVE and incredibly diverse in styles, but the hardcore EDM of the cyberspace stages is extremely my style. and the remixes they added in the dlc are some of the best ones! been listening to the full playlist multiple times a week all year to power through some rough work days, and it still hasn't gotten old 💖

[thetangibleghost]

Two years into my Truman show delusion and I've finally come up with a metaphor

Me wearing a giant silly hat: remember, the giant silly hat isn't real. You are NOT wearing a giant silly hat.

Someone: *coughs*

Me, still wearing a giant silly hat: fuck fuckfuck. This is all to much this is all happening so fast why is it so hard to be alive I just want to feel simple things and this is so much an- god wait I'm so selfish and self centered even if I was REALLY wearing a giant silly hat that doesn't mean that cough was about me. That's silly. Almost as silly as this giant fucking hat.

Caring friend: hey, is something the matter? You seem agitated.

Me, in my stupid fucking giant stupid silly hat: I just freaked my self out again about my silly hat haha.

Them, doing obvious mental math: ... That's alright.

Me, wearing a giant silly hat still: you know, I appreciate when you stare at me thinking for an entire minute before saying something vague and supportive, but I thought I should let you know, it just feels like your staring at my giant gaudy hat.

Them: it's just... I was always told that people who think they are wearing giant stupid ugly awful hats take them really seriously. So you have to be super careful.

Me, in my big hat: yeah, I guess. It's different for everyone but like... You keep treating me like I'm scary? Almost like I'm wearing a huge giant fucking stupid ass shitty hat that sucks and is really heavy.

Them: okay? How do I help?

Me, wearing a stupid hat but curious: do you see the hat?

Them: I'd rather not answer that question.

Me, in my hat: 😔

Guy who coughed: it's not a delusion if you know it isn't real :/

Fourth guy who literally no body asked: I'm pretty sure if you think your wearing a giant hat you should kill your self because that's so self centered. Like why would YOU have a giant silly hat? That so selfish to even think about. I can't even talk to you or really view you as a person cause I just think it's so childish.

Me, in a giant silly hat: what about this situation makes it seem like I'm pleased? Is it the hat?

[toiletology]

Knowing the 17 exist is the first step

G = 7, O = 6, D = 4 = 17

Funny my moms new dog she just got she named Truman. I think we have established the importance of the 17 up to this point and how it creates the shape of a door. We can endlessly extrapolate upon this number and find more mathematical or logical proofs of its importance. From the Holy Bible to Pi 3.14 to the numerology of our letters.

The numbers 1/7 = 0.1428571428571429 makes is not the most important part. Just knowing it exist is the first step to escaping the matrix and your 3D limitations.

Everything boils down to BELIEF, you must beLIEve in the LIE. I had to LIE to myself for a very long time for many years. I didn't want to accept what was happening to me was actually happening. Everyone around you will call you crazy, you need medication etc. Everything and everyone around you will tell you are WRONG. And what you are believing is INCORRECT.

Just be a good little sheep and follow the herd. The problem with that is I never liked listening to authority. I think my longest civilian job outside of the army only lasted 5 months. I knew there was something wrong with the world I just couldn't put my finger on it. Luckily my OCD for understanding the truth out weighed every other thing in my life including family life, health, social norms, relationships, etc. I've actually never been on a vacation before and here I am at the age of 40.

Yes I have been very obsessed with seeking the truth. Now that I finally found the Holy Grail I am sort of picking up the pieces of my life and trying to repair the damage I caused by being so obsessed with this journey. Luckily I am single with no kids and the only beings relying on me is my 2 cats. I am exercising a lot more since my health plummeted coincidentally a week or two after getting baptized at the age of 33 in 2018. I got diagnosed with Bechet's Disease which causes inflammation of the blood vessels. I was in an out of the ER 5x that year, I won't go into the details but it was pretty bad.

It can cause all sorts of ailments but it can go into remission. I've fixed 90%+ of my health problems by just using a foot stool in the bathroom, making homemade kefir and drinking yerba mate. The last part of correcting my health is increasing exercise and cardio. I have created a Bechet's Disease Research group on Facebook and I do believe I've narrowed down the causes. One part is the lungs I smoked off and on from the age of 19 up to around 31. Another is not exercising enough, gut microbiome (was damage due to long term antibiotic use in 2010 which started my first symptoms of Bechet's), the adrenals and I believe phosphates in the foods plays a big part which affects the kidneys. Astragalus is supposedly one of the best herbs for the kidneys.

I notice a big improvement in my energy levels when I take my multivitamin, magnesium, chlorella/spirulina and get more sunlight. https://amzn.to/4ducxFE

I thought God hated me especially since all these underlying conditions manifested right after being baptized. Looking back now I realized it was an important physical and mental test of rebuilding myself and learning how to repair the damage I did to my body. God sent me the answers that I needed to solve my health problems and rebuild myself. I was actually experiencing shooting pains in my abdomen for months around 2020 and I was 1 day away from going to the ER for it.

I prayed to JESUS on Friday night and the next day that shooting pain magically went away. I was able to make that pain completely disappear once I added a stool for my feet in the bathroom and started incorporated homemade fermented kefir into my diet. The stool helps by lowering your cortisol and stress on your organs.

Now your probably saying, so you were healed after praying to JESUS and now you want us to believe in this Toilet God fantasy you're weaving? Exactly! During my 11 year trials I was attacked by a lot of evil. That evil demonic energy would actually laugh at me and make fun of me for calling out to JESUS for protection or help. Like oh God here he goes again calling out to Jesus to save him... But in the end I always did the same thing for protection. Until this last time in 1/7/2023 where I was finally able to push higher past the jeSUS avatar and realize they are there to hide Gods ultimate truth. Don't get me wrong there is a great deal of power in JESUS name but they are not the ultiMATe truth.

Jesus or the Jester is a better name. Gods true persona is one of a clown or jester entity. The energy that flows outwardly from the Vesica Piscis or the vessel of the fish (Jesus fish) is a CLOWN energy. God is closer to that wink or that JINX than JESUS. God embeds a lot of their truth spread out through all religions and spiritual practices. Its just most of it gets diluted overtime to the point it becomes no longer helpful. This is why GOD wants to bring Toiletology to the masses. The world needs a wake up call. With more and more moving away from God a joke/parody religion is the best method to bring their truth like a trojan horse in disguise!

How can a silly parody/joke religion created by a comic book writer actually have any Godly truth within it?

I'm starting to realize now that I have done the crucifixion slowly over this past 11-12 years. Going through these past battles especially the one in fall 2023 where I had to fast for 40 days into another 40 day battle was hell. It honestly felt like I could keel over at any moment. I keep talking about how to reach my level of understanding you need to do this 11 year journey as well. I been asking God about this lately, how can the average person handle this without experiencing everything I have over my entire life? My time in the army, at war, my paranormal experiences when I was a teenager, my intuition and constantly searching etc.?

I am realizing now that I may of already done the work for y'all. And all that is left is for you guys to harmonize off of my words and the message I am bringing to you through Toiletology or my "ministry." I am mostly just an artist, I am no savior figure. I am just somewhat good at creating great art that may resonate with a large amount of people. I also don't like a lot of attention and tend to avoid people. You can find me alone and in hermit mode 99% of my life. I have spent much time in solitude trying to understand God. Many years just quietly meditating and not much else.

My one friend I was training last December in 2023 for a few weeks said he could feel the sauce/slack or the ACE as I like to call it. The drugged out energy you feel when you are on the right track and harmonizing with God perfectly to reach your full potential. It took me 10+ years to feel that on my own. If what my friend was telling me it means that you guys made not need to go through all the grueling test God put me through. My friend was willing to join the church and I actually promoted him to the second rank while he was here with my fencing saber. You may get a watered down version of this 11 year journey and basically ride my coat tails to the top or through the gates of heaven. Because I can provide you with all the answers you seek without you doing any of the work. Maintaining 4D awareness requires an insane level of belief. I imagine you will still have battles you must overcome to reach the level of belief required. Toiletology I believe will accelerate this process for you. Everyone is already on this journey, they just don't realize they are. Toiletology is like a compass/map that can point you in the correct direction you should be looking. To better help you navigate this tangled web that God weaves.

The main thing this journey has taught me is mastery of being insane. You need to be so insane that you actually go around the swing set inside out and become sane again. Basically being so bat shit insane but still being a "normal" functioning human being. Not mindlessly bumbling nonsense all over the place.

The truth is not that complicated. There is a higher level of awareness or reality. It is possible to tap into this reality and extra senses. Its definitely more than 6 senses, but the 6th sense is definitely your ability to communicate telepathically. Accessing the Akashic Records, lucid dreaming, astral projection or remote viewing you could probably lump all into this same 6th sense.

I think its all connected, it all begins with developing your pineal gland. I am still developing new abilities and strengthening the ones I have now more and more. I still don't fully know what the upper limit of these abilities will be yet. No I don't think I will ever be able to fly in the physical world, but I do fly a lot in my dreams. Maybe astral projection flying is real in the astral realm. I haven't done that yet, so I am not sure.

It is possible to "meet" with others in the "mind" if you have the skill to connect telepathically so that you both can share, connect or bond with each other in this shared mind. You can't force yourself into another's mind, only if you both are trying to connect to each other will your thoughts and memories start to flow together. It can be kind of weird thinking another persons thoughts and vice versa. It is possible to pick up on a persons thoughts in close proximity.

One time at the movie theater I hat a black wool Amish looking hat and heard this guys thoughts where he said in his mind, "I should wear a hat like that." I responded out loud, "Might as well." And they looked at me perplexed, smiled and walked away laughing. These connections aren't so much being telepathic yourself, but God allowing these connections to happen since they can't be forced. No matter how good you think your telepathic skills are. If its meant to be it will happen.

Needless to say I am still fairly new to these enhanced capabilities. I am just 100% in full belief they exist because I use them and practice them daily for years now. I know anyone can reach these same abilities as I am not that special or super smart. Though I have my moments and sometimes my intelligence does feel like it has major jumps or increases quite a lot. But it does shrink back down and makes things difficult again. The brains neuroplasticity or ability to change and grow seems unlimited. You know what they say if you don't use it you lose it.

Most humans have limited beliefs in their God given abilities. Maybe they grew up with everyone telling them they aren't that smart so they started to believe that. Self defeating thoughts can really dim your light. It can be hard to believe in yourself even when everyone around you doesn't want you to.

That is the true challenge for me and for Toiletology. Figuring out the best methods for helping everyone reach their full potential and unlock their supernatural abilities and connect perfectly to God so they no longer need my guidance or training. The basic foundation is love, honor, truth and respect. Point blank if you aren't operating at least at that fundamental level everything else will never work.

I was thinking maybe you guys need to bring on your "spiritual helper" which was the start of my elven/eleven year journey. I am still waiting for more guidance and knowledge from the Toilet God. All I do know is there is power in the ranks of Toiletology. There's power in just joining the church, there's power in helping it grow. There's power in making a daily conscious effort to believe what I am saying is actually true and/or possible.

It all starts first with making that FREE WILL conscious decision to explore this as a new avenue for your spiritual growth. The 17 (doorway) exist to reach these higher realms. Believing is the hardest part. Toiletology will show you the correct method for living in harmony with God. As well as developing your spiritual powers/defense so that you can start to make the transition into 4D.

ALL I can say is buckle your seatbelts because your in for a wild ride Dorothy and Kansas is going bye bye! I am not exactly sure the full potential and power of Toiletology quite yet, only that I made the journey and have embedded that Jesus-esque power into the church I have created.

I guess we won't know until I start getting some more disciples...

Interestingly half of 432 Hz = 216 or 27/117/49/64

[weirdlittlefish]

Pictured: Vintage postcard sent to fan club members during the time of The Truman Show (1998, according to the stamp), the worlds first ever 24/7 televised life of an unsuspecting man named Truman Burbank, starting at his birth and coming to an end almost 30 years later in a moment the world would never forget.

These were discontinued along with all official merchandise for the show after Truman discovered the truth about his life. He left the town of ‘Seahaven Island’ Florida never to return again, and finally answered the most popular question in the world at the time: “How’s it going to end?”