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mimisempai · 4 years ago

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When you kiss me, you speak to my soul

Summary:

5 times when Loki receives an unexpected kiss and once when he gives one. (or more)

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This story inaugurates a new series.

"Together, for all time, always"

This series is my way out in case our boys don't canonically have a happy ending.Background: After the events of the TV show, all the members of the TVA are aware of their status as variants and decide to work together on a better TVA. The main team is composed of Loki, Mobius, Sylvie and Miss Minute. The rest will come as time goes by. The stories do not necessarily follow each other.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32203465

3123 words - Rating G

"Okay Loki! You know that in order to get your time travel pass, you have to prove that you know the rules perfectly."

Loki, annoyed, rolled his eyes and sighed,

"Honestly, I'm a rehabilitated variant, god of mischief, who saved the TVA from its slavery, that pass should be granted to me without going through any fucking tests!"

Miss Minutes jumped in front of Loki and pointed her little finger in the direction of Loki's nose, "Ttttt a god don't swear! And when the new TVA administration, of which you are a part, put the rules in place, you all decided to start over. With a new, admittedly less rigid, but still regulated basis that you signed up! Come on, only two more points to validate!"

Loki grumbled, itching to send the little clock flying.

Unperturbed, Miss Minutes continued, "Tell me the basic rules of time travel? "

Loki began to recite in a bored tone, "Do not interact with yourself, do not interact with your ancestors, do not interact with historical figures. Don't interact with the big events in history even if it means not being able to save everyone. Pay attention to small details and use your time wisely.

"Perfect my little Loki!"

"Hey, a little respect Miss Mimi!"

The little clock coughed and Loki noticed a slight flush on her little cheeks.

"Well, then explain to me the three major paradoxes of time travel."

Loki, keeping the same jaded look on his face, recited again, "The Grandfather Paradox, if you go back in time to kill your grandfather, you effectively kill your father, and therefore yourself. The Predestination Paradox is simply when your past self is the very cause of your need to travel back in time. This creates an endless loop of travel, which is why it is also called a closed causal loop. Finally, the Bootstrap Paradox. It occurs when something is returned, often to the traveler himself, negating the need for its creation in the first place."

The little clock jumped all over Loki's desk, clapping!

"Yay my little Loki! You'll be allowed to get your pass validated!"

Loki, happy but irritated by the little machine, asked him, "So that means I don't need your lessons anymore, right?"

"Absolutely!"

Loki rubbed his hands together as he said, "Perfect."

He began to move his hand, thinking of a spell to cast on the annoying little clock.

A voice whispered in his ear, "Loki... what did we say about spelling those weaker than ourselves?"

Loki turned to Mobius with a pout, "but Mobiuuus, just a little spell!"

Mobius bent down and took the hand with which Loki was about to cast his spell.

He said softly, "These hands do such beautiful magic, it would be such a shame to make them cast second rate spells."

He laid a gentle kiss to the back of Loki's hand and then walked away with a quiet step.

Loki, slightly surprised, touched lightly with his other hand the place where Mobius' lips had lingered.

Then he got up quickly, knocked over his chair and ran behind him.

Miss Minute, who had witnessed the scene, raised her eyes to the sky and returned to her screen.

Mobius was waiting outside the elevator.

"Mobius!"

Mobius turned around, Loki was coming towards him with a quick step. He looked at his watch and said with a slightly reproachful tone, "You'll really have to learn to be on time!"

Loki, with a cheeky grin on his face, replied, "I find I'm making progress, yesterday I was 13 minutes late and today only 11."

Mobius rolled his eyes and was about to answer him when they were interrupted by the voiceover from the elevator.

"The elevator is momentarily out of order, please use the service stairs."

Mobius walked to the door next to the elevator and held it open, waving his hand towards Loki.

"After you."

Loki walked past him and began to descend the stairs.

Almost arriving at the bottom, Mobius, on Loki's heels, put a hand on his shoulder and turned him to face him.

"What's wrong?" Loki asked him, surprised.

"Nothing's wrong. Everything's fine," Mobius replied softly before taking his face in his hands and leaning in to kiss him.

A few moments later, they separated to catch their breath.

Loki gasped slightly, asking Mobius, "I'm not complaining, but what was that for?"

As they finished descending the stairs Mobius replied, "It was the perfect opportunity to reverse the roles, for once I was the one who had to bend over to kiss you."

Loki was still smiling as they walked through the door.

As they passed by the elevator, the door opened to reveal the other members of their team.

"Huh? Is the elevator fixed yet? We took the stairs because they reported that the elevator was momentarily out of order, like... three minutes ago."

"What? But we got on it three minutes ago, four floors higher than you."

Loki looked back at Mobius with a little doubt.

Mobius replied, "Just because you're the god of mischief, doesn't mean you're the only one who can use it."

"Argh, for crying out loud, dates, more dates, always dates!!!"

Loki rubbed his eyes trying to fight the fatigue that was overtaking him.

He stood up, took a few steps to stretch his legs before returning to his seat and continuing to flip through his files.

"Need a helping hand?"

Mobius put his hand on Loki's shoulder and gently squeezed it before sitting down across from him without waiting for an answer.

He continued, "I know this isn't your favorite part of the job, Loki, but it's part of it and I'm glad to see that despite your reluctance, you're not afraid to pitch in.

Loki grunted, "I just don't think it's fair, Sylvie never has to do this kind of work. She's always out there."

"Have you been traveling through time, through all kinds of apocalypses like her for that long?"

"Hmph!Always the voice of wisdom huh?"

Mobius snickered, "Me? No, of course not, but the wiser of the two of us, that I am."

"You prick!" muttered Loki.

"Hey, I heard that!"

They both immersed themselves in the files.

After two hours, Mobius saw Loki get up.

"I'm going to stretch my legs for two minutes."

"Okay."

Five minutes later he saw a small bowl of salad appear in front of his eyes.

Loki said to him as he sat down, "to make up for my bad mood of earlier."

Mobius put his hand on Loki's forearm, "Loki, there is nothing to forgive. You are allowed to have mood swings. I'm not asking you to be someone else. But thank you for the consideration."

He ate the salad Loki had brought him while the god got back to work.

A little later, he was disturbed in his research by a light snore, he looked up at the familiar sight of Loki asleep, his head on his crossed arms.

He had a fond smile. He knew that this kind of work must seem tedious to someone like Loki and yet, even though he grumbled and acted like a drama queen on a regular basis, it didn't stop him from working seriously.

Looking at the time, he thought they had worked enough for today.

He stood up and whispered in his partner's ear, "Loki, wake up. It's late. We're done for the day."

As Loki slowly opened his eyes, Mobius placed a kiss on the top of his head before getting up and going to put the files away.

Loki straightened up and was stretching again when Mobius returned.

"Was I dreaming or did you kiss me on the head?"

"Unfortunately my sleeping beauty's lips weren't accessible so I had to settle for kissing the top of her head to get her to wake up."

Mobius winked at her and headed for the door.

He turned and said again, "Are we going home?"

Loki, who still hadn't gotten used to the warmth these few words provoked in him, quickened his pace to join him.

When Mobius arrived at the cafeteria, he saw Loki concentrating at the dessert counter.

He joined him, placing his hand on his lower back to signal his presence.

"You look completely absorbed in the contemplation of these desserts. Do you have a favorite?"

Loki turned his head toward him and grumbled, "There's always so much to choose from. And every time there's a new kind. I don't even know what to choose. In Asgard there was fruit and... fruit."

Mobius was amused every time Loki was faced with this kind of problem. He made it an insurmountable challenge. This time, Mobius offered to help him.

"If you want we'll take several and share."

Loki nodded, " You choose, because I don't know what to take."

"Okay, go sit down, I'll pick and join you."

Mobius took a sample of several desserts, located the table Loki was sitting at and joined him.

They spent the next hour sharing the dessert plate. It was just the two of them left in the cafeteria. Loki was finishing the tiramisu while Mobius was bringing a last spoonful of chocolate mousse to his mouth.

"So, have you made your choice? What's your favorite?"

Loki licked his lips and replied, "Undoubtedly the tiramisu."

He put his spoon down and asked Mobius, "What about you?"

Mobius, who was sitting next to him, moved closer and looking at Loki's lips, murmured softly, "I'm hesitating between the chocolate mousse and the tiramisu."

He closed the distance between them and placed his lips on Loki's. Loki parted his lips and let Mobius explore his mouth with his skilled tongue. Mobius finished the fierce kiss with a light bite on Loki's lower lip, soothing him with a final lick. Then he moved back.

"I think in the end, tiramisu is my favorite."

They had just returned from the mission and were in the locker room.

Loki was putting his things away in his locker. As always after a successful mission, he was so excited that he was talking non-stop.

Replaying the events in detail, and because he was Loki, he didn't hesitate to emphasize the moments when he and Mobius had been particularly good.

The rest of the team was used to it and listened with one ear.

Mobius smiled fondly.

Continuing to babble, Loki followed the rest of the team for the post-mission debriefing.

As he walked out the door, he felt himself being pulled back. Then a hand reached into his hair and pulled out the tie that held it together.

He looked back at Mobius who was putting the rubber band in his pocket.

"Mobius?"

Mobius walked over to him.

"Why did you do that?"

Mobius replied with a mischievous smile, "Because when you have your hair tied back, I can't do that."

He raised his hand, and pushed behind Loki's ear the strands of hair that fell over Loki's face, letting his hand linger on the god's neck.

" Neither this."

With his hand on the back of Loki's neck, he ran his fingers through Loki's hair to comb it before gently grabbing it and pulling his head back slightly.

Having cleared with this gesture the throat of Loki, he deposited a rain of butterfly kisses.

Loki sighed, his lips parted, "Mobius..."

Mobius moved back again leaving his hand in Loki's hair.

"Nor this."

He raised his second hand and joined it with the first on the back of Loki's neck, tangling his fingers in the long black strands before pressing gently, forcing the god to tilt his head forward. Their lips were so close that each could feel the other's breath. Mobius pressed his lips to Loki's, his fingers clutching his hair as the god's hands found his waist.

Their kiss was long and slow, and when Mobius pulled back, nipping at Loki's bottom lip, He saw that his eyes were clouded and his mouth wide open.

"That's exactly why I like you better with your hair loose."

With a smile, he kissed Loki briefly on the cheek and headed for the locker room door, the bouncy step of one who has just won a victory, oblivious to Loki's hungry stare.

Loki had had enough.

Mobius obviously enjoyed starting fires with Loki and never extinguished them.

Loki was on edge.

Not that Loki didn't appreciate Mobius' spontaneous displays of affection and kisses, the man was extremely inventive and talented, but he felt like a ball of clay in his hands.

His pride as a god of mischief was at stake!

He had to regain the upper hand, just a little, just a few moments.

"Hoho miss Minutes, looks like someone needs to get laid!"

"Hey Syl! I'm just a pure little watch. I don't want to know anything about your sex lives!"

Sylvie sitting with her feet up on Loki's desk fluttered a paper cutter in the air and snickered back, " Which sex life Mimi?"

The watch returned to the screen and grumbled, "Never mind, Loki and Mobius's love life is none of my business! Hmph!"

Loki with his hands on his hips and a dark look in his eyes, muttered to Sylvie, "Don't you have a job to do instead of gossiping with that piece of junk clock?"

"Hey jerk! I heard you!" Shouted the little voice from the monitor.

"It's so much more interesting to watch you mope about your mustachioed prince."

Loki slumped into the other chair, a sulky look on his face.

"It's not so bad though?" asked Sylvie, studying him, her chin on her hand.

Loki told her everything, from the kiss on his hand to the fiery kiss in the locker room.

"And you dare to complain?!" Sylvie asked him, quite irritated, "You have a man who is completely devoted to you, and full of attention for you. Do you realize how lucky you are?"

"Wait, Syl! It's not that I don't like it. On the contrary, but... argh" Loki tugged at his hair, "I don't know how to say it, before, the Loki before the TVA, I've always been a hedonist who enjoys the pleasures of life, who takes and throws, but now, even though I'm still a hedonist, I don't just want to consume anymore, I want to give too. And right now I feel like I'm the only one receiving."

"Aw, you're cute you know."

"Hey! Don't make fun of me!"

"But no, well just a little bit, but really Loki, the fact that you're thinking about this, shows how much you've evolved right? Have you even tried talking to Mobius about it?"

Loki shook his head, "You know me, I often talk a lot to mask my insecurities and also because I like to listen to myself talk, but anyway what I mean is that when it's serious I'm unable to express myself properly."

"And show him?"

"How?"

Sylvie rolled her eyes, "Loki, are you the god of mischief or not? You are capable of seducing anyone! Don't embarrass me!"

A few moments later, alone in his office, he thought back to this discussion.

How could he surprise Mobius?

Mobius who knew how to read all his tricks...

Of course! The answer was obvious!

What better way than a direct approach!

He waited for the right moment and went to Mobius' office, sure to find him there.

As he walked through the door, Mobius looked up, a smile blooming on his face as he saw Loki.

"Loki!" He wanted to stand up, Loki stopped him by waving his hand. With one hand he locked the office door and with the other, using a flick of his wrist, he turned Mobius's chair around before walking towards him.

Then, without warning his lover, he straddled Mobius' lap and framed his face with his hands before throwing himself on Mobius' mouth.

Mobius pushed him back slightly and managed to articulate, panting, "Wait, wait, wait Loki! What's the matter with you? Not that I'm against it, but I'm surprised, pleasantly surprised, that you'd take the initiative like this."

Loki with his forehead and lips against Mobius' replied, equally breathless, "The problem is that my lover has been teasing me all week, kissing me everywhere and at any time, and hasn't given me a chance to return the favor, so now you shut up and let me kiss you! It's my turn!"

As Loki resumed the interrupted kiss, Mobius decided, with the last fragment of coherent thought he possessed, that all he had to do was enjoy it. He just ran his hands over Loki's hips pressing him closer until there was no more space between them.

He tried to control the kiss, but Loki would not let him, and finally, after a brief struggle, he gave in to the kiss and the shivers of pleasure that ran down his spine.

He believed to be out of air when Loki moved back slightly and fixed him, the eyes shining with satisfaction, licking his lips like a cat which had just devoured a pot of cream.

They slowly caught their breath and Mobius couldn't help but gently tuck a lock of Loki's hair back behind his ear in a gesture that was becoming more and more familiar.

Loki leaned into Mobius' hand.

"Hey Loki, more seriously," Mobius told him softly, "does it bother you that I'm acting like this? Because you know you can tell me."

Loki sighed, "It doesn't bother me per se, it's just the lack of reciprocity, the fact that I'm receiving a lot and giving nothing."

Mobius shook his head with a smile, "Sweetheart," he couldn't help but notice that Loki seemed to appreciate the endearment, "that's not how it works. When you kissed me just now, did you feel pleasure?"

Loki, indignant, protested, "Yes, of course I-"

Mobius put a finger to his lips.

"It's the same for me, you know. I am aware that in your head the gears are spinning wildly non stop, but in such cases, don't think. Just enjoy it, there's nothing selfish about it."

Loki nodded, then passionately kissed his lover once more, until they were both out of breath again.

Then Loki traced a path of kisses from Mobius' chin to his ear and nibbled on his lobe before whispering, his breath making Mobius shudder, "The rest is for later my love..."

He stood up and headed for the door while swaying his hips, fully aware of the gaze that followed him.

Then before he walked through the door, he threw over his shoulder, with a mischievous smile, "I too can light a fire and make you burn for me."

_________

Not beta'd I hope you enjoyed it 🥰

#loki #lokius fic #lokius #moki #wowki #loki x mobius #loki laufeyson #mobius m mobius #miss minutes #sylvie laufeydottir #established relationship #5+1 things

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haloshornsinkstains · 4 years ago

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Devildom Easter Egg Hunt

A little late, but the idea came to me at like 11pm last night and I'm old and suck at staying up late these days.

Anyway, Easter in the Devildom. With my MC Kore, because I missed writing about her.

Warnings: Female MC, Not a reader insert, polyamory, way too much description of baskets of chocolate, that's it.

“What the hell are ya wearing Kore?”

“Everyone come to the council room after classes, it’s important.” That’s what the text had said. The one sent from your phone to all of the brothers, and all three residents of Purgatory Hall. It was more than a little suspicious, for one Kore never wanted to stay longer at RAD than she really had to, and secondly she was usually much more polite when requesting a favour. But to use the council room she must have gained Diavolo’s permission so it couldn’t be anything too bad right? At least, that’s how they reassured themselves before turning up. Whatever scenarios they had planned out, none of them came close to what greeted them in the council room.

She looked down for a moment, before grinning back at Mammon. “You don’t recognise it?”

“I believe what Mammon means is why are you wearing that?” Lucifer sighed, shaking his head at the younger demon who had been momentarily rendered speechless.

“Well…” She started, still smiling happily at them all, “it’s Easter in the human realm, and since I already had the bunny costume on hand from that serving job we did, I thought I could share some of the festivities with you all. Technically I’m a bit late, Easter was yesterday, but I wanted Dia, um, Lord Diavolo to be able to join in and he wasn’t back until last night.”

The Prince in question was standing behind her beaming happily, nodding along with everything Kore said. “Now now Lucifer, no need to look so grumpy. I think it’s wonderful Kore wanted to bring something from the human realm to all of us!”

“But, that doesn’t explain why yer wearing that!” Mammon huffed. “Anyone could see ya like that!”

“Mammon… everyone already has seen me in this? And you’re all here anyway.” She shrugged. “In the human realm there’s an easter tradition where a rabbit brings chocolate eggs to kids. I know you’re not kids, but it seemed like fun. I organised an egg hunt and everything!”

“Did you say chocolate?”

“Yes Beel, chocolate eggs. The ones for the egg hunt aren’t, because it would give you an unfair advantage, but the prizes are chocolate eggs.” She laughed, pointing to the small pile of baskets behind her. “No touching until we’re done.”

Beel pouted a little, but stared determinedly at the baskets. Levi frowned beside him.

“So, this is a game? Are there clues?” His eyes flashed with interest, games he could do.

“Not really, I can give you some if you’re stuck though!” Kore laughed. “So, I hid 60 eggs, with Barbatos’ help so he’s going to stay here and keep me company guarding the prize baskets. He isn’t allowed to tell anyone where they are, including you Dia, and you agreed to not ask him.” Diavolo nodded. “So, the rules are; no magic,” she nodded towards Solomon and Lucifer, “no stealing from other people, if they found the egg it’s theirs,” a few sideways glances towards Mammon, “and no fighting. Everyone got that?”

There were assorted nods and murmurs of acceptance from the gathered Demons and Angels.

“Don’t look so pouty Luci, you don’t have to join in if you don’t want to. You can still have a basket of chocolates.”

Lucifer huffed. “Of course I’m taking part. But you neglected to tell us where the eggs had been hidden, unless you mean for us to search the whole Devildom?”

Kore blushed and shook her head. “Sorry! They’re in RAD, the Castle and their grounds. I would have hidden them in the House of Lamentation and Purgatory Hall but I didn’t get time between classes and Barb had duties to fulfill.”

“Then can we begin?”

She nodded at Lucifer. “The inaugural Devildom Easter Egg Hunt is go! Good Luck!”

Kore leaned back against the table, watching with amusement as the group scattered, most heading for the door to scour the school. Simeon and Luke stayed back, opting to look around the council room first instead. Simeon glanced down at Luke, standing on his tiptoes to try and peer over one of the taller plinths and sighed.

“Kore?”

She glanced over at the angel. “What is it Simeon?”

“Would it be permissible to work in teams for this game?” He nodded towards Luke, expression fond as ever.

“Of course Simeon! It’s not really as serious as all that, I only put the rules in place so no one spoiled the fun by magicking all the eggs to them or getting into a fight. It’s just for fun.” She giggled, patting one of the prize baskets. “Besides, I’d put money on Beel and Belphie already teaming up. Even if it’s just from Belphie’s laziness.”

As if on queue a shout echoed through the room from the corridor. “Oi! Ya not allowed to work together like that!”

“Kore never said working together was against the rules!”

“Mammon, let them be. Belphie isn’t likely to be much help when Beel is carrying him.”

Kore burst into laughter, shaking her head at their antics. “Well, I would wish you luck again Simeon, but I don’t think you’re in the most need of it.”

He chuckled in response, heading over to the younger angel to guide him out of the room. “Indeed, come on Luke. See you later Kore.”

She nodded, in response, leaning back and listening to the echoing voices through the halls as Barbatos came to sit beside her, letting her lean her shoulder against his.

That was how they found them two hours later, when all of the eggs had been collected and the hunters returned to the room, Kore tucked against Barbatos’ side giggling at something he’d told her while his arm rested around her waist.

“Ah, I’m glad to see you weren’t too bored while we were searching for eggs!” Diavolo boomed, chuckling at the sight before them.

Kore flushed bright pink, head shooting up to stare at the gathered group with wide eyes. Her gaze shifted quickly over Mammon and Levi, smiling softly at them to try and ease the tension from them. There would likely be time for a discussion later, but she was pleased to see neither jumped to chase Barbatos away from her, polyamory was hardest for the two of them but they were growing, learning.

“You should know already that Barbatos is excellent company.” She chuckled, shaking her head. “Go on then, how many eggs have you all collected?”

They handed over their eggs, letting Kore note down how many each had carefully before the next person handed theirs over. She paused half way through, looking at the ones Beel and Belphie handed over with a small frown.

“Um, Beel, why is this one half of an egg?” She asked, holding the slightly mangled object in her palm.

Beel rubbed the back of his neck, refusing to meet her gaze. “I, um, forgot you said they weren’t chocolate and I got hungry.”

“It was lucky he didn’t swallow it whole.” Belphie grumbled.

Kore giggled and nodding, noting down their score.

Once all the eggs were counted Kore jumped from the table ready to announce the scores.

“Alright gentlemen, the scores for the inaugural Devildom Easter Egg hunt are in! I’ll be going in ascending order of score, last place to first okay?” There were a few nods. “Okay, last place with two eggs is Asmo,”

“I knew I shouldn’t have stopped to fix my hair.”

“6th place is Solomon with three eggs, not bad, joint 5th place are Satan and the team of Simeon and Luke with five eggs each,”

“Well done Luke, you found most of those for us! I’d have been last without your help.”

“Damn, if Lucifer hadn’t beaten me up that tree using his stupid wings…”

Kore paused. “Wait, you climbed a tree Satan?!”

“Don’t worry Kore, I have it all on video. I may not have found many eggs, but I did capture most of the best moments on camera. Satan was very cat-like.”

“Thank you Solomon, I’ll be getting all of those from you later.” She grinned, looking back to the list. Okay, so 4th place is Lucifer with seven eggs. Then in joint 3rd place we have Mammon and Diavolo with eight eggs each, congratulations both of you,”

“I guess third place ain’t too bad. At least I beat Lucifer.”

“Oh excellent! I think that was very good for my first Easter Egg Hunt, don’t you?”

“Yes Dia, that’s a very respectable score. In 2nd place with ten eggs is Levi,”

“Damn, I guess it’s not bad for a game that involved physical activity…”

“Which means in 1st place is the team of Beel and Belphie with twelve eggs. Congratulations you two.”

“It was pretty much all Beel.” Belphie yawned. “As soon as he knew there was food on the line I mostly just napped.”

“Honestly I’d have been very impressed if anyone beat Beel in a competition that involved winning something edible.” Solomon chuckled.

“Alright, so Beel, Belphie, you get first choice of the Easter baskets.” Kore smiled, gesturing towards the table behind her.

“Are they not all the same then?”

“No Luke, they’re all the same value but the contents differ slightly. Different shops and types of chocolate. Some just have big eggs, there’s a couple with lots of small things, some are a mix of everything… you know? Also Barbatos baked a couple of treats, so there’s one in each basket too.”

“You put a lot of thought into this.” Diavolo hummed. “It’s very impressive Kore.”

She rubbed the back of her neck, looking down at the floor. “Well, Barb helped a lot, and… um, I just wanted to make sure it was fun?”

“You did an excellent job on your own, I merely offered a helping hand.” Barbatos sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Do not sell yourself short Kore.”

“Ah… Thank you. Okay guys, pick your baskets.”

Beel, to the surprise of no one, picked a basket full of large eggs, Belphie went for one with small sheep shaped chocolates. Levi picked a basket with a mix, including some small pink flower shaped chocolates that looked just like ones from an episode of the anime he watched the week before. Mammon’s basket also had a mix, mostly white chocolates dusted with golden sheen. Diavolo picked a basket of large eggs, dark, white and milk with intricate decorations across their surface. Lucifer’s basket of choice was filled with the darkest chocolate, more bitter than sweet and perfect with coffee. Simeon and Luke picked matching baskets, large and small chocolates in marbled milk and white. Satan’s basket was small chocolates, full of unique flavours and combinations. The final two baskets were fairly similar, a mix of sizes and types, though Asmo’s leant more towards fruity flavours than Solomon’s. With all the baskets collected Kore grinned at them.

“Happy Easter everyone!” She paused, glancing over at Barbatos. “Oh, Barb, your basket should be in your room.”

#halo.writes #obey me #easter #female mc #kore's adventures in devildom #original female character

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phroyd · 4 years ago

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Joe Biden is going to be the next president of the United States. He will be inaugurated on January 20 and take power at noon that day. There is nothing, legally, that Trump can do to stop that.

What Trump and his feckless Republican Party might do illegally to try to overturn the results of the election and prevent Biden from taking power is a different matter. Trump has evidently intimidated the administrator of the General Services Administration into refusing to acknowledge Biden’s victory and thus prevent his team from starting the transition process. Only a smattering of Republicans have acknowledged that Biden won, and most of those who have, like George W. Bush, no longer hold any political power. Trump has already filed a raft of baseless lawsuits. His people are drumming up talk of some kind of Electoral College devilry to overthrow the popular will. And Trump fired the secretary of defense, Mike Esper, yesterday, which seems like the kind of thing one does before launching a coup d’état.

Years of watching Democrats snatch defeat from the jaws of victory gives many the sinking feeling that “it’s happening, again.” But rational thought tells us that these Trump gambits, all of them, are pointless. Biden won and his ascension to power is now inevitable, whether Trump accedes to that reality or not. As a wise man once sang: Gravity always wins.

Still, we’ve all seen Trump wriggle out of approximately a billion other defeats and scandals. He’s exposed the weakness of our democratic institutions, revealing just how useless they are in the face of his norm-breaking assaults. So it feels somehow naive to believe that his loss at the ballot box will translate into his loss of an actual job. It feels smart to consider that he might have a secret plan to retain that job, despite being voted out of it. Trump is the Michael Myers of our politics: He can’t be defeated, because the horror movie franchise makes too much money to ever end.

And yet, despite all this, I have gone to bed every night since Friday confident that President-elect Biden will become President Biden. I’ve come to this peace over the objection of my amygdala, which is the part of the brain that screams in fear and anxiety and tries to overpower rational thought. Here’s what I tell myself in order to help me sleep at night. Perhaps these are conversations others can have to achieve my level of forced serenity. (Amygdala in bold italics.)

Who won the election?

Joe Biden.

Who won the election if we only count legal votes?

Only legal votes are being counted. Joe Biden won those.

What about the possibility of a recount in swing states like Michigan or Pennsylvania?

Recounts traditionally do not change more than a thousand votes. Even if we’ve gone completely through the looking glass and this recount changes an unprecedented number of votes, like 5,000, which is completely unheard of, Biden’s margin of victory is too great to overcome. A recount would not change the result in states like Arizona, Georgia, Michigan, Nevada, Pennsylvania, or Wisconsin. If Trump wants to lose twice, that’s up to him.

What about all the lawsuits, especially the ones they keep filing in Arizona and Pennsylvania?

Trump’s election lawsuits fall, broadly, into three categories: lawsuits alleging poll watchers were too far away, lawsuits complaining about the established rules for submitting mail-in ballots, and lawsuits alleging Trump voters were denied their vote because of some kind of ballot machine malfunction.

None of these lawsuits provide evidence of massive voter fraud. None of the lawsuits provide evidence of voter fraud at all. Some of the lawsuits allege some accidents, but the remedy for those accidents is counting more votes, not fewer. Trump’s claims that his poll watchers were not allowed to watch the counting of mail-in ballots in Pennsylvania is flatly untrue, and his lawyers have had to admit in court that they were allowed in the room. They’ve been reduced to arguing that their poll watchers were not close enough, which, whatever. The remedy for that is to move them closer, not throw out tens of thousands of votes.

In fact, none of the Trump lawsuits allege anything that can be used to throw out tens of thousands of votes. Throwing out votes that have already been counted is not something that courts do. We can recount votes, this time with Trump watchers breathing down the necks of ballot counters and giving them Covid-19, but again, recounts don’t usually change the balance of votes by all that much.

The important thing to ask with each new Trump lawsuit is this: What is the remedy? If the remedy is “throw away tens of thousands of votes from people whose votes were clear in their choice and timely in their submission,” then that lawsuit is going nowhere. And if the remedy is not throwing out those entirely timely and legal votes, then the lawsuit will not change the results of the election.

Why would the Trump people be pushing these lawsuits if there was no chance for them to change the outcome?

Because Trump people are dumb? Hanlon’s Razor tells us: “Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity.”

Joking aside, there might be many malicious reasons for the Trump campaign to be pushing lawsuits they know are destined to fail. Stirring up doubt in Biden’s victory is a prelude to refusing to acknowledge his authority as president. Trump, or one of his kids, or somebody “Trump-approved” is surely going to run for president in 2024, and making Trump’s rabid, white-supremacist base feel like the election was “stolen” from them has a political upside as they fight for their new “Lost Cause.”

And, there’s also the grift. Trump’s campaign is broke. They’ve literally written checks they can’t cash. Trump doesn’t like spending his own money on these things (to the extent he actually has any). These lawsuits purportedly challenging the election are a huge money-making opportunity for the Trump campaign. If you read the fine print on the new fundraising e-mails Trump’s campaign is sending out to supporters, they say that “60 percent of contributions” will go toward retiring campaign debt.

Would the Trump campaign put America through 70 days of trauma to make a buck? You better believe it. The whole Trump presidency is a guerrilla marketing campaign for the Trump brand that went too far.

But the Republican Senate is going along. This is just like impeachment. Republicans wouldn’t remove Trump then and they won’t now.

Well, it’s not up to Republicans to remove Trump from office. The Constitution does all that work on January 20. Joe Biden is the president on that day whether Republicans acknowledge it or not.

But now Bill Barr has gotten in on the game, and he is the worst of Trump’s henchman.

Yes.

He’s given federal prosecutors the green light to open up investigations into possible voter fraud.

So?

SO?

There wasn’t election fraud. Trump’s legal team has no evidence of election fraud and has no money to investigate to find such evidence, so they’re using the taxpayers’ money to look for it. But Barr’s prosecutors won’t find anything because there’s nothing there. This is going to turn out the same way it did when Barr investigated but didn’t arrest Hunter or Joe Biden.

The head of the Election Crimes Branch, Richard Pilger, resigned. That should tell us how wrong this is. But Barr is not going to succeeded. It’s just another thing to remember in 70 days when Barr is out of a job. We should arrest him and charge him with abuse of power.

What if Trump refuses to leave the White House?

Biden can be president from Delaware until the White House runs out of cheeseburgers. He’ll come out of hiding eventually.

But what if Republicans never acknowledged that Biden is the president?

How’s that different from the way they treated Barack Obama?

Good point, but what about a re-vote? I’ve seen MAGA people online calling for a re-vote.

Re-voting is not a thing. There is no statutory or constitutional language that can compel a nationwide re-vote. States will certify the results of their elections in the coming weeks. And then the Electoral College will meet on December 14 in a pro-forma session to…

WHAT ABOUT THE ELECTORAL COLLEGE?

Damn it.

Can Republican state legislatures put forward a slate of electors who will vote for Trump even though Biden won those states?

Let’s be very clear: The states get to choose how they will determine their own electors, but that determination has to be made before the election. A state with a Republican legislature—let’s say, Pennsylvania—could have decided to choose electors based on a simple vote of the legislature. In fact, Republican legislators contemplated doing such a thing. But they didn’t. Instead they decided, like every other state, to let the popular will in their state determine the slate of electors.

They can’t change the method of picking electors after the election has taken place. Remember, when voters showed up to vote, they technically weren’t voting for “Joe Biden” or “Donald Trump” but for a slate of electors who would vote for Biden or Trump. If Pennsylvania wanted to change those rules, it would have had to tell its voters before they voted. It can’t run a bait-and-switch on an election. It can’t say that a vote for Biden’s electors was actually a vote for the Pennsylvania legislature to choose the electors. This is an election, not a Groupon.

The only legal recourse, which some Republicans are arguing for, is to determine that the voters “failed to make a choice” on which slate of electors to nominate, or that the results of that choice are somehow unclear. But the results will be clear once Pennsylvania certifies its election results (and, in this case, the governor and secretary of state, who certifies the results, are Democrats). It will be a close election, but voters made a choice and that choice will be clear upon certification.

States have until December 8 to certify the results of their elections.

But what if Pennsylvania’s Republican legislators insist that the results weren’t clear? Would the Supreme Court’s conservative supermajority allow the state’s Republican legislature to choose a Republican slate of electors, even though it’s unconstitutional?

Maybe? Conservatives on the Supreme Court act in bad faith all the time. But consider that Biden has likely won this election with 306 electoral votes. For this gambit to work, legislatures in Pennsylvania and at least two of the other states Biden won would have to submit a slate of Trump electors. The Supreme Court would have to OK this upending of the popular will three times in total. That’s incredibly unlikely and would spark almost immediate civil unrest directed right at the Supreme Court, which has no army to enforce its rulings.

Well, what’s our plan for that?

My dude, I don’t have a plan for “nothing matters anymore.” The end of democratic self-government is not a thing one has a legal plan for. That’s like asking what my plan is for closing a demonic hell mouth that opens in my backyard. Die. My plan would be to die. I’m not Keanu Reeves.

What if Trump fires FBI Director Chris Wray and CIA Director Gina Haspel and gets the “deep state” to keep him in power indefinitely?

I’m not Kiefer Sutherland either. I cannot find the mole.

What if Trump launches a full-scale coup d’état and uses the military to keep him in power?

Then we’re at war. Honestly, what do you want from me? Yes, there is a non-zero chance that Trump’s refusal to accept the results of the election leads to a civil war and, in such a conflict, Abigail Spanberger forms a Vichy government to “compromise” with Trump supporters, and I have to pilot a jet carrying Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez off of Naboo in hopes of finding friendly Jedis willing to fight for our cause.

But there is no legitimate way for Trump to stay in power now. There’s no peaceful way for Trump to stay in power. Either he’s gone on January 20 or he remains atop a military junta willing to use violence to enforce his will.

This makes you feel better?

I find it comforting that a full-scale military takeover is now the only way for Trump to stay in power. Because if there’s one thing I know about Trump, it’s that he is a coward. President Bone Spurs is not the guy to cross the Rubicon.

I look at it this way: Captain von Trapp hiked his enormous family over the Alps to get away; all I have to do is drive my people to the Thousand Islands Bridge while we all sing “Edelweiss.” Thinking much beyond that is pointless.

Well, you could get your lazy ass on the elliptical trainer in case you’re needed to fight.

Don’t start this with me again. Goodbye.

Phroyd

#the nation #trump #election2020 #biden

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renaerys · 5 years ago

Text

PPG One-Shot: Under the Stars (Brick/Blossom)

Written for the inaugural challenge prompt on PPG Challenge Hub on AO3 for the prompt “things you said under the stars,�� hosted by @kiebs, @carriedreamerx, and me. Also functions as a Part 3 to the Shooketh, Not Stirred series. You can read Part 1 and Part 2 here on Tumblr or on my AO3.

Summary: In which Blossom decides she is definitely girlfriend material, and so does everybody else.

***We are welcoming more submissions for this prompt for the month of July! If you want to participate, please check out the PPG Challenge Hub collection on AO3.***

xxx

Nothing short of witchcraft could have held Buttercup’s 1997 Ford F-Series pickup truck together as it ambled over rocky switchbacks and through dense, Redwood forest to the Vista Lakes campgrounds for the Townsville High Junior and Senior classes’ biannual end-of-semester party. Blossom kept a stranglehold on the passenger door and hissed her displeasure over every dip that lurched the old truck too close to the edge of the road. The drop to the bottom of the mountain was a good thousand feet, a death knell for the Normies riding along with them.

Mitch and Harry, however, did not seem to mind as much.

“Oh shit!” Mitch whooped when Buttercup went over a particularly deep crag in the road and rocked the whole truck.

“Buttercup, please slow down,” Blossom pleaded.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” Mitch said through the sliding window that opened up onto the truck bed, where he and Harry rode with the sleeping bags, food, and extra blankets.

Harry laughed. “We’re cool Blossom, don’t worry.”

“Yeah Blossom, don’t worry,” Buttercup drawled. “Besides, it’s not like a fall from this height would kill us.”

“I’m sure Mitch and Harry feel super reassured to hear you say that,” Blossom said snidely.

“Super duper!” Mitch said. He flashed the rearview mirror a sign of the horns and winked.

Blossom forced herself to ignore his goading and kept her eyes firmly on the road ahead just in case. “I should never have agreed to this.”

“Well, tough shit, Leader Girl. You could’ve gotten a ride with Bubbles earlier if you’d left your Winter Break homework until the last day like everybody else, but noooooooo.”

“Not everybody waits until the last minute to get the homework done, for your information.”

“They totally do.”

“They totally don’t.”

“Do.”

“Don’t—ugh, no, I’m not arguing like this with you.”

Buttercup smirked like she’d won the argument (she definitely did not). “Whatever. We’re basically here and no one’s fallen to their death yet, so you can chill.”

The road emptied out onto a clearing overlooking the side of the mountain. Three deep, blue lakes sat still and tranquil, each surrounded by clusters of gnarled Redwoods and camp sites. A lot of people were already here considering the late hour, and a few campfires blazed bright along the shorelines. The gloaming crept over the horizon, casting the valley below in shadow and the skies in dusky, bleeding streaks of red like spilled wine. High above, blues deepened to blacks, but it was still early for stars.

Buttercup parked off the main campsite and the boys began unloading the truck bed. When they struggled with a cooler crammed full of ice, Blossom lifted it effortlessly and floated it over to join others that had already been packed with cheap beer and grill meat.

“Eyyyy there she is!” Boomer opened his arms and pulled Blossom into his letter jacket for a big hug. “I’m glad you decided to come.”

Blossom returned his hug with a smile. “Me too.”

“I told you she would,” said Bubbles, and she nudged Butch who was busy putting away a plate piled high with four hamburgers. He took one look at Blossom and grinned.

“Hey, Highness,” Butch drawled.

Blossom shot him a withering look. “Hi, Butch.” Ever since she’d beaten him in a not-so-friendly spar while Buttercup was out of commission, he’d mellowed out and taken to nicknaming and weirdly friendly ribbing.

“Comin’ down from that pretty throne to hang with the cool kids, huh?”

He stuffed an entire burger in his mouth, while Blossom threw up a little in hers.

“Shut up, Butch. You sound like a creepy old man.” Buttercup arrived carrying two twenty-four packs of beer that she dropped in Butch’s lap. He caught them with a grunt, and Bubbles caught his plate of uneaten burgers.

“Bitch, you love every glistening inch of this.” Butch stood up shouldering the enormous beer crates like they weighed nothing, because they did.

“I love cold beer, so move your glistening ass.” Buttercup snatched one of his uneaten burgers and stuffed it in her mouth.

Somehow, Buttercup got Butch up and helping, and when Mitch and Harry joined them, it was short work to unload everything from Buttercup’s truck. Blossom rolled out her sleeping bag on the grass amidst all the others, but no one would be sleeping tonight. It was merely a courtesy for the too high or the too passed out.

Around the campsite, Juniors and Seniors lounged with beers and blunts, enjoying their last night together before Winter Break. Among them, Wes had his arm around Kim as he flipped hot dogs on a standing grill and chatted up Mike and Robin. Blossom watched them a moment, debating whether to interrupt the conversation to say hi.

Bubbles slipped her arm around Blossom’s waist and squeezed affectionately. “You look a little lost.”

“No, just hanging out, you know.” She returned the half embrace, and they stood there a moment enjoying the cool night air.

“Hey, Blossom! You wanna sit with us?” Harry called. He and a few others had set up some lawn chairs by the shore and were passing beers.

Bubbles giggled. “You know he likes you,” she said.

“What—He does?!” Blossom sputtered.

“For sure. And, you know, since you’re totally not with anybody else, you could have some fun talking to him.”

“You mean, flirt with him.”

Bubbles was as innocent as a lamb. “I mean, be nice to him. That could be fun, right?”

Blossom had nothing to say to that. She was not, in fact, “with” anybody else. And she had every right to talk to whomever of her friends she wanted, so technically Bubbles had a point, but…

Blossom searched the faces gathered. In the encroaching darkness, it was getting harder to pick out profiles and bright colors to see who was here and who hadn’t yet arrived. “I don’t know.”

But Bubbles was already dragging her over to Harry’s circle and waving back to him. Seated in between Harry on one side and Kim on the other, Blossom was handed a burger and a beer and encouraged to participate in the conversation.

“My folks’re taking me to our cabin in Tahoe to go skiing over the break,” Harry was saying.

“That sounds fun,” Blossom said.

He shrugged. “Yeah, sure, if you count me eating snow every five feet when I can’t stop falling.”

“Come on, I’m sure it won’t be that bad.”

“Oh, yeah? I bet it’d be a cake walk for you, Miss Snow Queen.” Harry grinned, and the corners of his dark eyes crinkled cutely.

“Just because I have ice powers doesn’t make me a Winter sports maven. I’ve never skied in my life.”

“Psh, can’t be that hard, right? You start at the top of the mountain, and you end up at the bottom.”

Blossom bit back a smile. “I mean, I think it’s a little more involved than that.”

Harry laughed and leaned over the armrest closer to her. “Well, consider us both noobs. Anyway, most of the time’s spent hanging out at the cabin drinking hot chocolate anyway, right? Best part.”

Blossom tugged on her long, red ponytail as Harry continued to smile at her. She imagined the scene: a cozy ski lodge surrounded by snow, and a smiling boy content to ignore the blunt their friends were passing just to talk to her some more. She would like that. It would be easy, simple, and soft. Normal.

“Um, you know, I was thinking of inviting a few friends for a weekend. Just, like, a small group, and uh, well, I was wondering…” Harry stumbled in the dark looking for the question he meant to ask.

She could say yes, and she could have fun. With him, with any nice boy, it could be fun. How silly that just a few months ago, she had let herself believe she wasn’t the desirable type just because some mean girls said so. It all seemed so absurd now, and yet Blossom could not bring herself to give Harry the easy, simple, soft “yes” he wanted.

“Oh hey! You can have my seat, I’m grabbing more food,” said Kim on Blossom’s other side.

“Thanks.”

Like a hand to the stove, that voice hit her with a searing demand to be acknowledged. Old habits perhaps, or new ones. He wasn’t one to be ignored, not by her at least. Not these days.

“Brick,” Blossom said, half a question, half a sigh. She pulled back from Harry to look at him properly.

He’d taken Kim’s vacated seat directly next to her and nursed a solo cup of beer. Like her, he was dressed for the December chill in long sleeves, and his trademark red cap sat backwards over his short hair, as always. Red eyes held hers in a look that lingered.

“Blossom.” He spoke her name like a secret.

He was late. Why was he late? It wasn’t like him. She hadn’t seen him since third period yesterday. Was it only yesterday, or years ago?

“Hey, Brick,” Harry said, leaning over so he could see around Blossom. “Butch said you might not make it tonight.”

Blossom worried her lip between her teeth, and Brick took a long sip of beer as he slowly averted his gaze to Harry on her other side. “Here I am.”

“Uh, yeah, so Blossom,” Harry said. “About Tahoe…”

xxx

Blossom tugged on her ponytail as she turned back to Harry. Brick watched her twist her anxious fingers through her hair and narrowed his eyes.

“Hm? Oh, right,” she said.

“Yeah, so like I was saying, my parents’ cabin has a few extra bedrooms, so we could make a whole weekend out of it. Skiing, hot chocolate, the works. It’d be cool if you came. What do you say?”

“You throwing a rager?” Brick interrupted.

Harry leaned forward to see Brick again like he’d forgotten he was sitting there at all. “Nah man, just a couple friends for a weekend trip.”

“Cool. Who’s going?”

“Uh, I mean, I don’t have a list or anything. Sorta just came up with it now, so…”

“So you still have space. Count me in,” Brick said.

Blossom and Harry both looked at him like he’d suggested they all go jump in the lake.

“You want to go skiing in Tahoe?” Blossom asked.

Brick shrugged. “Sure, if it means a weekend away from my idiot brothers. Thanks for the invite, Harry.”

Harry gaped, and Blossom ceased pulling at her ponytail to stare at Brick.

“I mean,” Harry said, and nodded super obviously towards Blossom while she wasn’t looking.

“How many others could we invite?” Blossom asked. “If it’s okay with your parents, I mean.”

Harry looked at Blossom, and then he looked at Brick, who sipped his beer like the oblivious, teenaged simpleton he one hundred percent was not. Giving up, Harry sighed and rubbed a hand over his buzz cut. “There’s room for two more if you’re both going to be there.”

Blossom lit up. “How about Wes and Kim? Or Pablo and Hanout?”

Harry sat back in his chair and nursed his beer. “Yeah, fine, whatever you want.”

She was smiling now.

“Wes and Kim,” Brick said. “Pablo snores like a motherfucker.”

“That’s true,” Harry said forlornly.

“Well, either way,” Blossom said, clearly torn between telling them both off and the desire to finalize plans.

Brick got up. “Let us know what weekend. I’m free whenever.”

Pleasantly yet unsurprisingly, Blossom got up too. “Me too. Thanks Harry, this’ll be fun.” She smiled genuinely at him, and he returned it.

“Yeah, the best,” Harry said dejectedly.

Blossom followed Brick as he led her away from the main campsite along the shoreline in the direction of the drop-off.

“Okay, what was that?” she asked when they were away from the roar of the music and the campfires.

“What was what?” Brick asked. It was dark now, and the farther they wandered from the center of the party, the harder it was to see the shoreline as his eyes adjusted.

“You invited yourself to Harry’s. Are you even that close?”

He paused and looked at her. “Are you?”

Blossom clutched the ends of her jacket as she blinked up at him. “We’re friends,” she hedged. “He’s a nice guy.”

Brick smirked. “Uh-huh. Real nice.”

“What does that mean?”

“You tell me. Am I intruding?”

Blossom studied him through the gloom. She was close enough that he could smell her perfume, silken and subtle. “No,” she said at length. “There’s nothing to intrude on.”

He watched her walk along ahead of him, her long ponytail a bloody lash under the cover of night. He chucked his beer and went after her.

“This way,” he said, breaking from the shore and heading into the trees.

“Where are we going?” Blossom drew close. “It’s so dark tonight.”

“I think it’s a new moon. Here.” Brick found her hand so they wouldn’t get separated in the pitch black of the canopy.

Blossom’s hand was cool in his, and she slipped the other one around his arm as he walked deeper into the forest. The walk wasn’t far, and soon the trees thinned as they emerged onto the shore of the lake nearest to the precipice overlooking the valley below. Brick had set up his sleeping bag in the grass far away from the rabble where he could have the best view undisturbed.

“Wow.” Blossom approached the black waters, so still they reflected the night sky back flawlessly. Flurries of stars as far as the eye could see scattered above and below like snowflakes frozen in flight. The Milky Way ripped through the firmament, bleeding more stars clustered so closely together they glimmered ice-bright. “I feel like I just stepped into another world.”

Brick jammed his hands in his jeans pockets and drew up next to her. “Consequence of being away from all the city lights for a change.”

“Mm.”

They lapsed into silence for a bit as they watched the nightscape unfold above and upon the water. Brick’s eyes fully adjusted to the lambent starlight, but it was a cold light, and he wore only a thin, red hoodie to stave off the chill. Blossom noticed him shuffle beside her.

“Do you want my jacket?” she teased.

“Ha ha,” Brick groused. But it was fucking cold out here, now that she mentioned it. He had always been particularly sensitive to it in a way she wasn’t. “My sleeping bag should do the trick.”

They retreated to his makeshift camp, where Brick shimmied into his sleeping bag and Blossom sat on the mat next to him, perfectly at ease in the cold. She leaned back on her hands to admire the stars, content like she could watch them all night. Their gossamer light draped her like a veil, softening her edges and igniting her colors. Brick had the sudden urge to touch her, to prove she was no pearlescent dream, that the cold cornering him now was hers and not just the darkness.

“Why were you late tonight?” she asked out of the blue.

Brick lay back on the mat and looked up at the jeweled sky. “Finished the homework.”

Her laugh was as soft as the starlight, and she grinned at him over her shoulder. “Me too.”

Obviously. He wouldn’t put it past her. It didn’t matter, only, he didn’t want to have one more thing to worry about over the break while also spending way more time than usual around his brothers with nothing to keep their focus for eight hours of the day. But the knowledge seemed to please her, which was just as well.

“I told you I was coming tonight,” he said.

And yet, Boomer had blown up his phone texting him all evening wondering where the hell he was, why wasn’t he here yet, and didn’t he realize people were waiting for him? The last text was one he received when he’d touched down at the edge of the campsite and it was already dark: a candid picture of Blossom talking with Harry by a campfire, and she looked happy. Brick had not responded to it or to any of the other annoying texts. Kim had been more than happy to give him her chair the minute she saw him approaching.

“Here you are,” Blossom said, hushed and half-lidded.

Here we are.

Brick curled an arm under his head. “View’s better from down here.”

She worried her lip—did she even realize she did that? That he noticed?—but ultimately lay down next to him on the mat. “Oh, wow…”

The starscape shimmered far and above, and Brick began to pick out patterns in the cosmos. “There, Cassiopeia.” He pointed to a cluster of stars.

“You know your constellations?” she asked.

“A few.”

He could practically feel the aura of challenge she exuded like a pheromone.

“All right. Perseus,” she said.

Brick pointed to a long line of stars near Cassiopeia. “Right next to Andromeda.”

“That was a freebie to test the waters.”

Brick chuckled. “Sure.”

“Okay Star Lord, show me Gemini.”

Brick swept his hand south and west of Perseus to a pair of star lines facing each other. “A couple of gossipy bitches.”

She shoved him playfully, and he caught her with his free arm, pulling her close. “You’re terrible.”

“I’m right. Next?”

“Let’s see… How about Leo?”

With one arm anchoring her to his side, Brick traced the patterns she called out with the other. Dead heroes and their monsters rose from glittering graves with every sweep of his fingers and kept them company in the dark.

She tugged at his sleeve as he searched for the elusive Pyxis constellation. “Hey, we should probably get back to the party.”

Brick let his hand drop. “Why?”

“Because we’ll be missed, obviously.”

He chuckled. “I bet someone’s missing you.”

Blossom rolled onto her side to face him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“It doesn’t sound like nothing.”

He’d taken her to breakfast. It wasn’t a date; he hadn’t technically asked, and she only came because she was hungry and didn’t want to go home yet. It was the first time he’d ever seen her cry—no, sob because of what some dumb girls said to her at a party. Just the normal high school bullshit, and she’d fallen apart. Breakfast was the fucking least he could do after the ignominy of seeing her like that. It just turned out that it wasn’t the last.

Too many breakfasts and long hours spent prepping for finals turned into expectation, expectation turned into anticipation, and anticipation became the new normal. They weren’t together no matter what rumors Bubbles and Robin started and stopped. They weren’t not together either, considering they usually were, in fact, together. It had only been a few months since she’d handed Butch his balls wrapped up in a pretty pink bow and left Brick speechless to behold her, a few months since he’d found her insecure and vulnerable on that rooftop and called her beautiful because she was, holy fuck she was, and so much more.

Blossom was old wounds that should have healed long ago, that he should never have opened again, but she was still so new and he didn’t know, he didn’t know.

She slipped her hand over the cover of his sleeping bag and curled her fingers in his shirt. “Brick,” she said in a voice full of galaxies and longing.

He’d always liked the sound of his own name, after all.

When he kissed her, she tasted like starlight, cold fire. He pulled her closer, kissed her deeper, a step into the unknown, but the unknown was where she was and she was everything. Her breath hitched and she opened for him, just like that day on the rooftop, but he didn’t look away this time and she kissed him back like it had been her idea all along. Chemical X crackled on their flushed skin as he rolled onto his back and brought her with him, her weight on his chest a warmth and a fantasy.

Blossom’s long bangs fanned his cheeks as she hovered above him and he held on to her. He dreamed she might fall back into the sea of stars and he would dive in after her should he let her go. He didn’t let her go.

“I don’t actually want to go to Tahoe,” Brick said.

She laughed, light as a moonbeam. “Neither do I.”

He threaded his fingers through her hair, pulled her down again. “Good.”

She smiled into the kiss and wrapped her arms around him.

xxx

No one took much notice when Blossom and Brick popped up at the campsite after a protracted absence. No one except Bubbles, who passed Butch her perfectly roasted marshmallow, which he wolfed down right off the stick without waiting for it to cool. She discreetly got out her phone and snapped a few pictures of Blossom leading Brick by the hand to a couple empty chairs near Wes and Kim. When Brick leaned back in his chair and put his arm around the back of Blossom’s so she could lean into him, Bubbles had to work very hard not to squeal.

Clearly, Boomer sending Brick that picture of Harry chatting up Blossom had had the intended outcome.

She fired off twenty pictures to Robin.

[Bubbles: Yearbook?? 👀]

Robin, who was on the other side of the large campfire with Buttercup, Julie, Mitch, and the Floyjoydson twins, spat out her beer when she saw the pictures.

Bubbles snickered to herself.

“What’re you so happy about?” Butch said halfway through a game of Chubby Bunny.

Bubbles poked his mallow-stuffed cheek and winked. “It’s a secret.”

He rolled his eyes and stuffed another marshmallow in his mouth. “Laaaaame.”

Bubbles stole another glance at Blossom and Brick. She was laughing at something Kim had said, and he turned to whisper something to her. Bubbles bit her lip to hide her smile.

“But not for long,” she sang to herself.

Boomer came up behind Blossom and Brick and threw his arms around them both, laughing and pulling them close. Brick didn’t even try to push him off.

Not for long at all.

xxx

Thanks for reading! If you enjoy my writing and are looking for more PPG/RRB content from me, please check out my ongoing multi-chapter over on AO3 called Beyond This Morning. 😊

#Blossick #Reds #Blossom #Brick #Bubbles #Buttercup #Butch #Boomer #Powerpuff Girls #Powerpuff Girls fanfiction #PPG #February Fic Prompts #ppg shook

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blog-cosmosuniverse1 · 4 years ago

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What Have We Done? By E.P. Unum January 21, 2021

Joseph R. Biden was just inaugurated as the 46th President of the United States yesterday. I have nothing further to say about this historical event attended primarily by 26,000 National Guard Troops, FBI, NSA, CIA Operatives. That fact alone is a very telling story. Apparently, additional security was deemed necessary for a President-Elect who received allegedly 80 million votes, more than any other person in the history of our country. All of the “peaceful riots” throughout the summer and Fall, where stores and businesses were looted and destroyed, monuments toppled and police and citizens were killed, did not require the assistance of armed troops to quell these “activities”. I also will not comment on the 17 Executive Actions signed by our new President on his first afternoon in office. None of these offer any hope or unity nor are they of any benefit to the American people or to America. Indeed, they will drive us further downward. But here are some lessons we can learn from the new change in leadership to the America we know: Perhaps now you understand why there was never any action against the Clintons or Obama, how they destroyed emails and evidence and phones and servers, how they spied and wiretapped, how they lied to the FISA Court, had conversations on the tarmac, sent emails to cover their rears after key meetings, how Comey and Brennan and Clapper never were brought to any justice, how the FBI and CIA lied, how the Steele Dossier, paid for by Hillary Clinton, was passed along, how phones got factory reset, how leak after leak to an accomplice corrupt media went unchecked, why George Soros is always in the shadows, why Mitt Romney and Paul Ryan and George Bush and John McCain were all involved, why they screamed Russia and pushed a sham impeachment, why no one ever goes to jail, why no one is ever charged, why nothing ever happens.

Perhaps now you know why there was no wrongdoing in the falsification of the FISA Warrants, why the Durham Report was delayed, why Hunter Biden has not been charged, why the FBI sat on his laptop for almost a year while Trump was being impeached on fictitious charges, why the Bidens' connection to China was overlooked as was unleashed the perfect weapon, a virus that was weaponized politically to bring down the greatest ever economy known to man and at the same time usher in an unverifiable and unnecessary system of mail-in voting that corrupted the very foundation of our democracy. Maybe now you can understand why the media is 24/7 propaganda and lies, why up is down and down is up, right is wrong and wrong is right, why social media can now silence the First Amendment and speak over the President of the United States. This has been the plan by the Deep State all along. They didn’t expect Trump to win in 2016. He messed up their plans, and delayed them a little….four years to be exact. They weren’t about to let it happen again. Covid was like manna from heaven for democrats and the socialist left, it was a tool to inject fear into all Americans and it was weaponized Governors who shut down their states and crumbled their economies out of fear. The media, never to let a good crisis go to waste, helped shame and kill the economy, and the super lucky unverifiable mail-in ballots were just the trick to make sure the 47-year career politician, allegedly with hands in Chinese payrolls, the man that couldn’t finish a sentence or collect a crowd, miraculously became the most popular vote recipient of all time. You have just witnessed a silent, bloodless coup, the overthrow of the US free election system, the end of our Constitutional Republic, and the beginning of the downward slide of capitalism and the free enterprise system into the abyss of socialism and communism. What a remarkable achievement! We have sacrificed the greatest engine of freedom, growth, and prosperity known to man on the altar of ignorance and totalitarianism. What will happen next? Well, here's a brief list: · Expect the borders to open up. Increased immigration. · Expect agencies like CBP and INS and Homeland Security to be muzzled or even deleted. · Law enforcement will see continued defunding. · Elimination of the electoral college will be attempted. · History as we know it will be erased. Our children will no longer study the American Revolution, the Civil War, World War I, II, Korea or Vietnam. These will be replaced with classes on “white priviledge”, “how American racism stole lands from native Indians” and the “need for racial equity” because America is a terrible nation. · The Supreme Court will be packed with liberal judges. · Your 2nd Amendment will be attacked and there may be a gun confiscation or gun buyback programs enacted and you will find it difficult to own a weapon…and ammunition of any kind. · If you have a manufacturing job or oil industry job, get ready to be unemployed. · If you own and run a business, brace for the impact of higher taxes and more governmental regulations. · Maybe you’ll be on the hook for slavery reparations, or have your suburbs turned into Section 8 housing. · Your taxes are going to increase dramatically and businesses will pay more. · We will be paying more for gasoline at the pump and we will soon find ourselves once again dependent on foreign oil.

President Trump made us energy independent. For the first time in our history, the USA became an oil-exporting nation. Biden’s illogical and corrupt dismantling of the Keystone Pipeline not only displaced 42,000 high-paying union jobs but now Canada will sell the oil in Alberta BC to China while we search for new supplies at higher prices. Well done Joe! In a couple of years, we will see the onslaught of inflation, high unemployment, less productivity as more and more people become dependent on the government for subsistence, all of which is the natural course of socialist economies The dollar will no longer be the world’s reserve currency and America will no longer be the bastion of freedom it once was. America will be overtaken by China as the largest economy in the world and, because we have become so complacent, we will find ourselves in the middle of great turmoil and upheaval with lots of civil strife that will make 2020 look like a walk in the park. I could go on and on. There is no real recovery from this. The national elections from here on will be decided by New York City, Chicago, and California. The Constitutional Republic we created will be dead. Mob rule and appeasement will run rampant. The candidate who offers the most from the Treasury will get the most votes. But the votes cast won’t matter, just the ones received and counted. That precedent has been set. Benjamin Franklin was walking out of Independence Hall after the Constitutional Convention in 1787, when someone shouted out, “Doctor, what have we got? A republic or a monarchy?’” Franklin responded, “A republic, if you can keep it.” Ladies and gentlemen, we have now lost the Republic our forefathers bequeathed to us, the Republic we fought and bled for these past two hundred and forty-five years. Some of you are wondering how this came to pass. The answers are indeed quite simple. We did it to ourselves: · We turned from God. We erased God from our halls of Justice and the Town Square. · We turned from family. · We turned from our country, our Flag, our Monuments to our leaders who paved the way. We denigrated all of these with revisionist history and the tearing down of monuments to our civilization and way of life. · We replaced achievement and recognition by embracing “participation trophies” so that our children can all feel a sense of accomplishment even when there was none. · We embraced degeneracy culture, inviting pornography into our laptops and living rooms. · We became some infatuated with technology that we lost the human touch…we found it easier to send emails or Facebook or twitter posts to a friend or co-worker ten feet away from us rather than walking over to chat with them. We have, in essence, become too high tech and low touch. It sort of begs the question…what does it matter if we wire the entire world if we lose our immortal souls? · We celebrated and looked to fools as our heroes, comedians whose idea of a joke is holding up a bloody head of our President. That’s not funny. It’s sad. · We worshipped ourselves selfishly and took for granted what brave men and women fought and died to give us. Their sacrifices are no longer valued, replaced instead with scorn because they may have committed “transgressions measured by today’s standards, not theirs”.

We disregarded history and all it teaches. On our watch, America just died a little. It’s likely she’ll never be the same again. Not until the 74 million Americans who voted for President Trump stand up and shout “we will no longer tolerate this and we want our country back” and do something about it

For starters, get off Twitter and Facebook and refuse to be a part of their efforts to disrespect the First Amendment. I did. And I don’t miss it at all. If companies want to insult all the people who supported President Trump by denying them jobs, fight back. Don’t buy their products. Shun them. Until we take those steps, they will continue to wield their power, but the ultimate power is in your hands…the power of the consumer. We did this to ourselves. We made our bed, now we have to sleep in it….until we get off our asses and remake it. Some of you have no idea what you’ve done. You know now. It is time to do something about it. Sadly, some of you do know what you have done. To them, I say…if you kick a dog long enough, pretty soon he’s gonna bite. I am tired of being kicked and insulted and disregarded as if I don’t matter. We do matter. We are Americans

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schroedingersk8 · 5 years ago

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15. Let Me Draw You A Pie Chart

Or Why I Refuse To Date For Free.

I have written this post as a personal opinion, but I think it would be of tremendous use to my fellow Dommes and International Women of Mystery, as a read and perhaps a thought experiment, too. If you have any questions, please contact me via K8Morgan.com

I have woken up today, and have decided to dedicate my inaugural 2020 dating blog post to what is bound to become a very a prickly subject -- remunerated dating. Thing is, that yesterday, before going to bed, I have posted a three-line response to an anonymous question, and woke up to an anonymous answer in a scandalised line of “how dare I?” :)

And I laughed to myself, but also thought that, in this day and age of #mansplaining and with my work as a Dominatrix shrouded in all kinds of myths, maybe I ought to do a bit of #dommesplaining (I am very proud of this hashtag, btw!) and show exactly how, and why I dare. So, my dear, let me draw you a pie chart:

This is my pie chart of life.

Are you with me so far? Am I condescending enough?

You can read it as a day, month, year, etc -- this is an entire life-flow, and I have organised it, for myself, in in the following manner:

There is “Me time” -- a pleasant tea on a sunny bar terrace, a visit to a SPA, upkeeping my good looks -- manicures, haircuts, meditation, just 20 minutes of quiet nothingness to myself. Then there are “Vanilla Life Obligations”-- doing a food shop, waiting for deliveries, arranging household needs, plumbers, boiler revisions, own health check up, cat health check ups, getting paperwork done, etc. Then we come to “Active Hobbies and Social Obligations” -- things I enjoy doing outside of the house -- maybe an opera visit, a museum stroll, a theatre performance, a gallery opening, gym, walk in the park, an excursion, a friend’s birthday party, or crisis counselling, or just a few beers with gossip et al. We also have “Passive Indoor Hobbies” -- things I usually do in the comfort of my own home -- reading classics by the fireplace, covered in Feline Overlords, watching some telly, taking a bath...you get the drift. And then, there is “WORK”. Want to venture a guess and pick which one is which?

How well did you do? It is, of course, a very rough estimate. But this is how I have arranged my life.

As you notice, there is no pie slice for “romantic relationship” because for me it is not a necessity. I am very happy with my current life, and 2020 will mark 9 years of me being “emotionally single” and “self-partnered”. Would it be nice to have a relationship? Maybe. But at this point it will be coming at the cost of other things. And I am not willing to surrender those things. Should I skip a visit to El Prado because you want your knob polished for free? Should I stop seeing my friends and family, who have been with me for years, because your ego needs continuous attention for the following 3 weeks, every time you come home from work? Should I banish my cats to an animal shelter because your balls need free shining? No? Then the only thing that has to give is my work time allocation.

“Pah, you dedicate too much time to work!” -- I hear you scoff. Now, have you met many self-employed/entrepreneurial people? Do they spend 30 min a day, only, on their projects? Let me remind you that DOMMEWORK IS WORK. S#X WORK IS WORK. If I were doing a PhD, would you whinge about my time allocation to studying?

My work is something that brings me joy, my work is something that I find challenging, stimulating and fun. My work is something that pays my bills. All those things are already more than what I can say about your contribution to my life so far.

And, as any work, it gets even more detailed:

I do not know if you can see it well in the picture, but my work currently consists of seven parts:

Research and Development -- studying marketing and pricing trends, consumer behaviour, strategies, new BDSM fabs, new media tendencies.

Implementation -- with the results of research and development in mind, making website updates, skill updates, new inventory and alike.

Analytics -- establishing what worked, what worked best, and what did not work at all, and changing things accordingly.

Work Admin -- reading and answering all your emails and inquiries, about sessions, pricing, availability, and about chances to date me for free.

Business Admin -- taxes, forms, rebates, etc etc etc.

Social Media Maintenance -- social media is the pipeline from where I get my clients, and no maintenance = no new clients.

Actual Sessions or Tours -- the time actually spent in sessions or preparing for sessions.

This, above, is a VERY rough estimate of what currently goes into my work. This does not even include the work I do for my fan sites. This is just the most basic task allocation in the most basic idea that you might have of my work.

Yes, I am self employed, but the world these days places same requirements on the one-person-flying-circus as they do on corporations. Everybody expects me to post pretty pictures a few times a day. Everybody expects me to provide customer service. Government expects me to pay taxes. Anyone with a New Year’s Resolution to “date me this year” expects a reply, and then an even longer reply of “why not?” Clients expect me to look my best. To succeed in industry I need to be on top of the tendencies. And to be proud of my work I expect myself to do my absolute best.

And yes, I HAVE to do everything myself. As such, I employ a cat nanny/cleaner so I can spend few more hours per week learning and studying. Yes, I do as well as I do because I DELIVER on most expectations. And I am able to DELIVER on them because of meticulous hard work that I put in, today and every day, into my business. (Tumblr is part of my Business Profile, by the way, otherwise I wouldn’t be spending time on it. For example, I deemed Instagram no longer cost effective after 3 years as it was not worth the time I had to put into it in terms of prospective client growth, so I stopped using it, at 50K+ followers.)

As I hope you understand (I simply cannot draw a more basic pie chart!), any reduction in time I spend doing my work results in less income for me. Now, DommeWork, in terms of my age, and in terms of my looks, is an enterprise limited in time. Whatever I save is my future pension, it is my future cash flow, it is my nest egg, for when I retire. Why should I deprive myself of that, so that you could get your knob polished for free? Why SHOULD I make less money for myself just so you can save YOUR money???

“Oh, you only have dollar signs in your eyes, you do not value me as a person and as just an cash machine!” -- No, my dear, my stance on “free dating” has absolutely NOTHING to do with you, or how I view or value YOU. But it has EVERYTHING to do with how I view MYSELF, how I VALUE MYSELF, and how I VALUE MY TIME. Even to give you, a man from the Internet who thinks I owe him free dating, a try for a month, and dedicate 20% of my work time, to you, instead of work, will result in a 20% reduction in MY income the following month. Now, 20% of my average monthly income is roughly my monthly rent. So, I should give up my ENTIRE month’s rent in order to see whether you are worth it? While you do not think you should be paying for dating?

And, what exactly is “it”? The funny thing is that in the “best case scenario” of us moving in together and living happily ever after, you would occupy at least half of my time, ever pushing for more, costing me a 50% reduction of income (that’s TWO ENTIRE RENTS) to then just have to contribute “your fair share” of HALF THE RENT!!!

So, you are down HALF the rent, while I am down TWO RENTS AND A HALF! And when you yelp “but what about love, love should be free, it is priceless, a relationship should be about two equals!” this is exactly how much YOUR priceless love, by the roughest estimate of the projected loss of earnings based on time allocation is going to cost ME, per month. TWO AND A HALF RENTS. While you insist it should be FREE for you because it is priceless! Show me the equality in that relationship, you equal rights champion you! Where is it? Or is it like in Orwell’s “Animal Farm”, some pigs should be more “equal” than the others? I mean, really???

Do we need another chart to explain to you the “bigger-smaller, up-close or far-away” concepts? Because your parents should have explained it to you when you were about 4 years old...

“Yeah, well, other women do not expect me to pay them to date them!” -- I do not know what to say to that -- maybe they value themselves less. Maybe they have too much free time on their hands and are bored. Maybe they cannot entertain themselves. Maybe they need help watching Netflix. Maybe their rents are so high in relation to their overall income that half a rent or half the mortgage for them is worth the trouble. Maybe the contribution they think you will make to their life is worth it for them. Or maybe they need to take a look at my pie charts themselves? In any case, if free dating is what you want, you should address your needs towards them, not me.

So, my dear, as I dash to my drinks and tapas with friends, as it is a beautiful Sunday afternoon -- and I had to push back my attendance by an hour to finish writing my work blog post to address the topic raised too many times this week alone -- let me give you a word of advice. Before you get your panties in a knot and get thinking of what you can get from me for free -- ask yourself a very hard question: what can you really contribute?

No one, under the penalty of the EU copyright laws, is allowed to use or reproduce my blog or individual posts, or even passages, in any way, shape or form, be it for Netflix series, Amazon books, or anything of the kind, regardless of the credit given. If you have any questions, you may contact me via K8Morgan.com

#DommeSplaining DommeLife #DommeSplaining

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myownsuperintendent · 6 years ago

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New Fic: “Take Me to Your Leader” (Part One)

It's 2037, and Leslie Knope has just been sworn in as President of the United States, only to find her inaugural address followed by an alien invasion. For help, she and Ben call on two experts--retired FBI agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully--and the four team up to defeat the alien threat. Parks and Recreation/The X-Files crossover, rated T. Also here at Ao3.

This is my first crossover, my first Parks and Recreation fic, and one of my longest fics ever, and it’s been a lot of fun to write! Tons of thanks to @emilysim for giving me the idea to focus on the colonization--you are the best and pushed me to actually write this. Also tagging @how-i-met-your-mulder and @xv12 who have been very supportive of this story.

I’m splitting this into two posts because it’s long. Part Two is here.

.....

“If they brief you on the aliens,” Ben had said to her, yesterday, “you have to tell me everything. You can’t keep that kind of thing confidential.”

And she had thought he was joking. Well, not joking about her having to tell him everything (Leslie knew Ben—he wouldn’t take kindly to being left out of anything even mildly science fictional), but joking about the part where they’d brief her on the aliens in the first place. She had some notes in place, of course, for what to do about intergalactic relations if the issue arose, but she hardly thought she’d need to get them out at this stage. She’d have enough to deal with, in her first term, just on this planet.

That was what she had thought, yesterday.

It was probably what she would have thought this morning, too, if she had been thinking about aliens. Which she hadn’t been. She’d been thinking about her inauguration, about her address, about who would be there, about what this meant for her.

And that part had all gone well. At least Leslie thought so. It was hard to remember now. She thought she remembered taking the oath of office, Ben beaming at her with pride, her own feelings to match. She thought she remembered her speech, making all the points she’d worked over. She thought she remembered Lady Gaga singing the national anthem.

She knew she remembered the ship.

The ship was probably what everyone else would remember too, which was annoying (okay, there were aspects of this situation that were far worse than annoying, but Leslie thought she had the right to feel at least a little irritated, on this day of all days). You could put hours of work and care into preparing a good inaugural address, into paring down your points so that you didn’t end up pulling a William Henry Harrison, and the whole thing could be overshadowed in minutes by just one alien spaceship. No, annoying didn’t begin to cover it.

It had started out…well, strange. Not what Leslie would have expected, if she’d been expecting aliens. (She’d asked Ben, on their way back to the White House, if he thought it was weird too—he certainly had more expertise in this topic—and, after citing three books and two movies, he concluded that it was, indeed, weird.) The aliens were gray, first of all, not green like everyone said they were, although Ben didn’t think that part was especially weird, so maybe it wasn’t. But then they had stepped from the ship and spoken. “Earth dwellers of 2012!”

People were been staring, open mouthed. Some screams, she didn’t know from whom. But she thought that, as president, it was incumbent on her to do something in this situation. “Actually,” she said, “it’s 2037.”

The head alien—well, she guessed it was the head alien, it was the one who had spoken—turned and stared at her. It was an unnerving sensation. “What?” it said.

“It’s 2037,” Leslie said. “Not 2012.”

“What?”

“It’s 2037,” Leslie said. She pointed upwards, to where the words Presidential Inauguration 2037 were projected against the sky. “See?”

The alien looked up at where she was pointing. “You’re kidding me,” it said. “Shit.” It turned its head and looked into the ship. “You were supposed to be setting our flying speed so that we’d get here in 2012!” it shouted. “Mind telling me what the problem was?”

An additional alien appeared from the ship at that point, rubbing its head with long fingers and explaining that none of this was an exact science, that you could do your best but you couldn’t guarantee you’d arrive at any particular place on any particular date. And, it pointed out, Earth years were so short and insignificant anyway that twenty-five of them hardly made a difference. The head alien didn’t seem to like this explanation much, and they engaged in some heated back and forth about the need for workplace competence, and the whole thing started to seem kind of funny, as far as alien invasions went.

“Well, they’re going to think we lack power,” the head alien was saying, “and they won’t want to do our bidding.”

“That seems like an easy fix, though,” the other alien said, and the two aliens looked at each other. Then it took some kind of vial out of the ship—it was filled with a black substance, Leslie could see it on one of the screens—and tossed it into the crowd. For a moment, nothing happened. Then people started to scream—a lot more people now, screaming—and she could see this on the screen too. Their eyes, black.

It didn’t seem kind of funny anymore.

So now they were back at the White House, trying to figure out what to do. They were in the White House’s underground bunker, specifically. She didn’t know why she should be surprised that it existed, but she was. She’d brought out her binder about intergalactic diplomacy, but none of it seemed relevant somehow. A lot of people were here, some of whom had questionable security clearance, but that didn’t seem relevant either. The kids, for example, clustered together against the wall and looking scared. And Ben too, of course. She couldn’t have kept him out, even if she’d wanted to, which she didn’t. She liked having rules, knowing what to do, but right now she was glad that none of the rules applied. She squeezed his hand under the table, when no one was looking, and he squeezed hers back.

“We should nuke them.” This was Harold; he was Sonia’s Secret Service agent and had already revealed himself to have a rather pessimistic view of life. “Just nuke them, I think.”

“Harold,” Leslie said, “we’re not going to nuke them because that would involve nuking our own citizens. Also, you’re not helping.”

“Well, I think we should nuke them,” Harold said, but he stopped talking when Leslie shot him a glare.

“The most important thing to do,” she said, “is to ensure that our people are safe. That whatever contagion they’ve started is contained—and reversed if possible. And we need to do it fast.” She thought about all the people who were still out there. About Ann. “Then we can figure out a way to get rid of them.”

“And how are we going to do that?” One of her military advisors.

“They’ve got to have a weakness,” Ben said. “Aliens always do. There’s got to be something that we can use against them.” A babble of questions and comments arose—how they could discover the weakness, and how he was so sure that they had one anyway, and how that was going to stop the contagion, and that this was real life and not a science fiction movie, and (from Harold) that they should just go ahead and nuke them—and the meeting seemed, not for the first time, on the verge of devolving into chaos.

“President Knope,” said a quiet voice by her shoulder. “May I make a suggestion?”

“Please,” Leslie said, turning around. It was the FBI director, Walter Skinner. He’d seen this country through a lot, she knew, in his many years with the bureau; he had one metallic leg and a take no crap attitude to show for them. If he had advice for this situation, she wanted to hear it.

“Considering these circumstances,” he said, “I think there are some people you should get in touch with. Strictly on an ad hoc basis. They don’t have any official government status, not anymore. But in this situation…if I were you, I’d want them in my corner.”

“Who are they?” Leslie asked. “And how can I get in touch with them?”

He gave her the names.

.....

Maybe they had caused it somehow, Scully thought, even though she knew that that was ridiculous. But she couldn’t help thinking it, remembering their conversation last night.

They’d been watching some flying saucer movie on TV: bad special effects, and worse dialogue, but somehow enjoyable even so. “Do you ever miss it?” Mulder asked her, when the main couple (you could tell they were scientists because they were wearing glasses) were engaged in a pitched battle with the Martians.

She thought about it. “Not usually,” she said. “Not now.” She looked over at him. “Do you?”

“No,” he said, “not most of it.” He looked back at the screen, and she followed his gaze; one of the scientists had dived to protect the other, and now they were moving synchronously. “Maybe that part of it.”

She understood what he meant—that adrenaline rush, that knowing there was someone there who was always at your side. “Yeah,” she said. An alien ray gun nearly took off one of the scientists’ heads, then. “I don’t miss all the almost dying, though,” she said, and he nodded at that, squeezing her hand. “And I think we’re still pretty in sync. Even if it’s only around the house.”

“Oh, I’m sure of that,” he said, and he smiled at her. And they never did find out how the movie ended.

This morning, she hadn’t thought about the conversation. They’d been otherwise occupied over breakfast; Susanna, on her way to school, had been talking a mile a minute about the inauguration. This was the first election in which she’d been able to vote, and she’d thrown herself into the process wholeheartedly; she’d been as involved as she could with volunteering in the lead-up to the election, and she’d been overjoyed at the result.

“You guys are going to watch, right?” she asked, not for the first time.

“Yes, of course we’re going to watch,” Scully said.

“We wouldn’t miss it,” Mulder added.

“You should record it,” Susanna said. “In case we want to watch any of it again.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe I have to watch it in school. There’s going to be so many people who just don’t care.”

“Well, I’m sure you care enough to make up for them,” Mulder said, and Susanna laughed at that.

Then she looked at the clock. “Oh, yikes, I’ve got to go,” she said, grabbing her backpack. “See you later, Mom, Dad.” She kissed them each quickly; she didn’t seem to consider herself too old for that, which pleased them more than they let on.

They watched from the window as she ran down the driveway, waving for the school bus, and made it in the nick of time—her usual way. They spent the morning at home; Scully did the crossword puzzle, with Mulder offering his commentary, and they took Pip out for a run around the property. And just before noon, they settled onto the couch to watch the inauguration. Remembering Susanna’s words, Scully made sure to hit record.

She was sorry she’d done that, now, because Mulder kept replaying it, the scene on the National Mall. The landing of the ship, the release of the virus. Sometimes he played it at normal speed; sometimes he slowed it down and looked at the individual frames; once he even played it fast, which felt like the eeriest of all. “Would you stop that?” she asked him. “We’ve seen this at least twenty times by now. What are you hoping for?”

“I don’t know,” Mulder said. He hit pause, at least. “Clues, I guess.”

“Clues to what?” Scully asked. “We know what this is, Mulder.” She’d known from the alien’s first words, from its address to earth dwellers of 2012. She’d known what 2012 was supposed to mean.

They’d thought 2012 was the date of the colonization. They’d expected it, even prepared for it, and it hadn’t happened. And she’d thought, at the time, that somehow they’d gotten lucky. She should have known better. In their line of work, you never got lucky for long.

Looking at Mulder’s face, though, she knew that he felt the same: that he’d really thought they’d outrun this thing. That after all the crap, they’d earned this, the life they had now: the two of them in their house, sharing, finally, a sense of peace, with a son who turned up for surprise visits and a daughter who surprised them every day.

Said daughter was, mercifully, all right: she’d shown up around two on the school bus, explaining that they’d sent everybody home. She was now curled up at the end of the couch, cuddling Pip, who howled periodically; she seemed to sense the tension among her humans.

“But you guys,” Susanna said, “you know what to do about this kind of thing.” It was half a question, half a statement; Scully could see, in her face, the vestiges of the belief that the two of them could fix absolutely anything.

She moved over to sit closer to Susanna and gave her a hug. “We know some things,” she said.

“This isn’t our first go-round with extraterrestrials,” Mulder said. He let the television run for about two seconds and then paused it again. “Not by a long shot.”

“And this is something we expected to happen. Not now,” she added quickly. “A long time ago, before you were born. But it didn’t, and we thought…” She cut herself off. We thought this wasn’t our fight anymore was what she had wanted to say, but she knew she couldn’t. In a situation like this, there was no cutting yourself off from everyone else, no sticking your head in the sand. “Mulder, do you still have all the…?”

“Of course,” he said, setting the remote down. “I’ll get them.” They’d made plans in 2012, plans that had gradually overwhelmed his office; when she’d moved back in, she hadn’t seen them, although there’d been more boxes in the room, a new file cabinet. She wasn’t surprised, really, that he hadn’t completely gotten rid of them. She didn’t think she would have wanted him to. That wasn’t him. That wasn’t them.

“We’re not going to give up,” she said to Susanna, as Mulder headed for his office. “You can count on that. And other people won’t either.”

Susanna looked at her, thoughtfully, scratching Pip’s ears. “Leslie will do something,” she said, sounding more hopeful than she had yet that afternoon.

“Of course she will,” Scully said. “She’s our president now.” What a hell of a way to start.

Her phone rang then; she didn’t recognize the number, and she considered not answering, but then she picked it up anyway. “Scully,” she said. It came naturally, in this situation.

“This is Dana Scully?” asked a voice on the other end. It sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it.

“Yes, this is Dana Scully,” she said. “May I ask who’s calling?”

“Oh, I’m so glad I caught you!” the voice exclaimed. “This is Leslie Knope.”

She couldn’t have heard right. “I’m sorry?”

“This is Leslie Knope,” the voice repeated, and when Scully didn’t say anything, she added, “Your president? Not that I mean to throw my weight around. Although in this situation…”

“I know who you are,” Scully said. “Just…is this some kind of joke? Why are you calling me?” Susanna was looking at her curiously.

“No, not a joke!” President Knope said. “I was told to get in touch with you. Can I assume you’ve seen the news?”

“Yes,” Scully said. It was beginning to make sense now. “Yes, I’ve seen it.”

“Good,” President Knope said. “That saves time. Well, we’ve been having a meeting, obviously, to figure out what to do, and FBI Director Skinner told me that you were the people I should talk to. You and your partner.” Mulder walked back into the room then, carrying a couple of file folders, and Scully waved him over.

“Yes,” Scully said. “Yes, he’s here right now. Do you mind if I put you on speaker?”

“Go ahead,” said President Knope, and Scully put her phone down, hitting the speaker button.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay, what would you like us to do?”

“We’d like you to get here as soon as possible,” President Knope said, and Susanna was apparently better at recognizing voices than Scully was, because her eyes nearly popped out of her head. “And to bring any information you have that could help in this crisis.”

“Yes, we’ve been working on that already,” Scully said. “Mulder was just getting some files together when you called.”

“That sounds perfect, then,” President Knope said; even at a moment like this, there was that energy in her voice, like they’d heard so many times over the course of her campaign. “Do you need us to send transportation for you?”

“It’ll probably be quicker if we drive ourselves,” Scully said. “Although…what’s it like in the city? Chaotic, I’d assume.”

“That’s what we’re hearing,” President Knope said. “Here, just a minute.” They could hear her talking faintly to someone on the other end. “Give us your license plate number,” she said, when she came back, “so they’ll know to let you through.” Scully gave it to her, and she said, “Thanks again, both of you. I’ll see you soon.”

When the call ended, Scully jumped up from the couch. “Let’s get everything together,” she said, “and then let’s go.”

“Are we going…to the White House?” Mulder asked.

“Mom, was that really…?” Susanna seemed to have lost her powers of speech.

“Yes, we are, and yes, it was,” Scully said. “To the best of my knowledge, anyway. Mulder, are those the files from 2012?”

He nodded. “But if we’re going in the car,” he said, “let me grab a few more things. Just in case.”

“Great,” Scully said, and he headed back to his office. “Honey,” she said to Susanna, “get anything you’ll need, okay? I don’t think we should keep the president waiting.”

“Am I…am I coming with you?” Susanna asked.

“Of course you are,” Scully said. She realized she hadn’t checked with anyone, but as far as she was concerned, this wasn’t in doubt. “We’re not splitting up. Not in a situation like this.”

“Are we bringing Pip too?” Susanna asked.

Scully looked at Pip. She was the biggest dog they’d had (by far), liked to poke her nose into your lap if she felt she wasn’t getting enough attention, and was still howling intermittently. “Sure, what the hell?”

.....

“So are they partners,” Leslie was asking Director Skinner, “or partners?”

“Trust me,” he said, “we don’t have time to get into that.”

As far as Ben was concerned, that wasn’t the most interesting question, anyway. He’d just been told that there was a whole division of the FBI devoted to—well, to stuff that he’d always thought was fictional, essentially. To stuff that he might have liked to believe in, but that he’d been content enough to read about in books or to watch on TV. He had a million questions about it, things that he’d like to ask these former agents when they showed up. But, he tried to remind himself, this wasn’t the time for him to satisfy his own curiosity. He needed to do anything he could to contribute to helping the situation. And he had to be here for Leslie, who he knew would go a whole week without sleeping if she thought she could solve the problem that way. This morning, he’d been thinking about celebrating with her: it was her day, and he was so proud of her. Right now, it didn’t look like celebrations were going to happen.

The door opened, and in came—well, maybe they were the former agents Director Skinner had told them about, although Ben couldn’t be sure. An older man and woman, anyway. Along with a teenage girl. And a sizeable Newfoundland.

“Ma’am,” one of the secret service agents was saying, “I really don’t think you should bring that dog in—”

“It’s fine,” Leslie said, quickly rising from her seat. “You’re Dana Scully and Fox Mulder? I’m Leslie Knope.”

“Yes, that’s right,” the woman said. “I mean, that’s who we are. And we know that’s who you are.” Leslie held out a hand, and she took it. “This is our daughter, Susanna,” she added, gesturing to the girl with her free hand. “And the dog’s Pip.”

“She’s a big fan of yours,” the man said, shaking Leslie’s hand in turn. “The kid, not the dog. Volunteered for your campaign and everything.”

Even in this moment—even when the world was more than a little upside down—Ben saw the Leslie he knew, the one he’d seen on the campaign trail and for a long time before that, the one who took a genuine interest in people who wanted to talk to her. She smiled at Susanna, shaking her hand as well. “It’s very nice to meet you,” she said. “Thank you so much for volunteering.”

“It’s so…it’s so nice to meet you too,” Susanna said. “I…it was…I liked doing it.” Mulder and Scully were exchanging hellos with Director Skinner.

“Come sit down,” Leslie said. Once they were all settled at the table, she said, “Director Skinner tells me the two of you would be the best people to help in this situation. Any insights, off the top of your heads?”

“It’s the colonization,” Mulder said, quickly. “We expected it in 2012, not now. But it seems like they got their times wrong.”

“The colonization?” Leslie asked. She reached out for one of her binders, and Ben handed it to her. She paged through it. “Should I know…”

“It isn’t something most people would know about,” Scully said. “It’s been very hidden. Hushed-up.”

“A lot of conspiracies around it,” Mulder said. “We won’t get into all of that now. There’s not enough time, and it’s almost impossible to fully understand, anyway.” Ben hoped they might get into it at some point, after they’d dealt with the situation. It sounded intriguing.

“So the aliens are trying to colonize?” Leslie asked. “What’s their aim in that?”

“To extend their territory,” Mulder said. “The idea is to get rid of the people. Except for the hybrids.”

“Hybrids?” Ben couldn’t stop himself from jumping into the conversation.

“There were human conspirators working with the aliens,” Mulder said, “and they created human-alien hybrids.”

“There were various experiments,” Scully said, “but these hybrids would be resistant to the black oil. The substance they dropped into the crowd, during the inauguration. It takes over people’s bodies and forces them to obey the aliens’ will.”

“Well, how can we stop it?” Leslie said, briskly. No wondering if they could. Straight to action.

“They developed a vaccine,” Scully said, “many years ago. From our research, we haven’t been able to find any remaining supplies, though. If we had access to the black oil ourselves, though, I might be able to rework it. I don’t want to promise anything, but—”

“But if anyone can do it, Scully can,” Mulder added. His hand was on hers, atop the table.

“How can we get you access then, Dr. Scully?” Leslie asked. “And while you’re working on that, what else can we do?”

“I’ve been looking back through our files,” Mulder said, “things that we researched leading up to 2012. We found, almost at the end, some evidence that there might be reserves of the oil in one spot on the southern shore of Lake Michigan. That’s probably our best bet, in terms of geographical proximity. And in the meantime—you can kill them by hitting them in the back of the neck. But you have to be careful, because that releases a green substance, and it’s toxic.”

“So not as viable a large-scale solution,” Leslie said, “as the vaccine.”

“Definitely not,” Scully said.

“All right,” Leslie said. “Let me think a minute.” Everyone in the room was looking at her, anxiously. For far from the first time, Ben knew. “All right,” she said. “Can we have the two of you go to Lake Michigan? I can have people go with you, if that would be helpful. And here we’ll focus on delaying them. If you could leave me any notes you have about that back of the neck thing—if we could go over that in some more detail. We need to buy time.”

“Of course we could,” Mulder said. “And I think—”

He was interrupted by a commotion outside the door to the bunker. “Look, I know she’s trying to save the world,” a voice was saying, “but I’ve got to get in there. She needs to know this.”

“Ma’am, I don’t—” One of the secret service agents, Ben thought.

“Look, if you could just tell them to check the television,” the first voice said. Ben recognized it now: it was Caitlin, an aide of Leslie’s. He hadn’t recognized it at first, he realized, because Caitlin was one of the most unflappable people he’d met; he’d never heard her sound even mildly worried, and now she sounded panicked. “Because they need to see what’s happening, if they haven’t yet.” At that, Leslie pressed a button on the table, wordlessly, and an image appeared on the wall. A group of people, their eyes black. Aliens advancing on them. A ship flying off, in the background.

“—a scene from Pittsburgh,” the announcer was saying, “but by no means unique in the nation today. We’re receiving reports from across the country. The aliens are traveling fast, and the contagion with them. So far, we have almost no information on the underlying causes of this crisis, but we will bring you more as soon as we get it. For the moment, we can only hope that newly-sworn-in President Leslie Knope will come out strong against the aliens.” A scream sounded in the distance; the announcer looked around nervously. “And now, the weather and sports.”

“Of course I’m going to come out strong against the aliens,” Leslie muttered. “What do they take me for?” A pause. “I think this changes some things,” she said. “I think…I should go with the two of you. To Lake Michigan.” A commotion arose at this—many of the people in the room, clearly, thought she should do no such thing—but Leslie held up a hand. “I’m the president,” she said. “I need to be where the most important work is being done. Even if it’s dangerous. Especially if it’s dangerous. We need to keep people safe.”

“But President Knope,” one of the military advisors said, “what will we do here in Washington? Who will be in charge?”

“We’ll work out a plan for that,” Leslie said; she’d already turned her binder to a fresh page, and she had that look in her eyes that she usually did when she was about to do something that involved getting very little sleep. “We’ll do that tonight.”

“We can’t make a whole plan in a night,” the advisor protested. “Not for an unheard of situation like this.”

“We’re in a crisis,” Leslie said. “We don’t have a lot of time, so we need to make this happen as fast as possible. And it’s not unheard of. Agents Mulder and Scully can help us, with their background knowledge. And then tomorrow we’ll go.” She smiled. “It’s not like you won’t hear from me again. I’ll still have my phone. I think.” She turned to Mulder and Scully. “Do the aliens interfere with phones?”

“Not that we know of,” said Scully.

“That’s not really a part of their M.O.,” said Mulder.

“Good, good,” Leslie said. “All right. Now if you can show us some of those files you brought…”

As Mulder and Scully started spreading the documents out on the table, Ben turned to Leslie. “I’m coming with you guys, you know,” he said.

He half-thought she might argue with him, tell him to stay here, that there was no point in being a political power couple if you couldn’t divide and conquer. Instead she just smiled at him. “Of course you are,” she said, squeezing his hand. “I know I can’t keep you out of anything involving aliens.”

That wasn’t what he’d meant, of course—he just didn’t want the two of them to be apart at a time like this. But he supposed she had a point. “You’d better not,” he said, smiling back, and then they started looking over the files.

.....

This had all felt very surreal, and that was before President Knope climbed into the passenger seat and asked if anyone had thoughts on the appropriate kind of music to play on an alien-defeating road trip.

They’d left the White House this morning, the four of them. Susanna had stayed there, along with Pip. Mulder wasn’t wild about leaving her behind, and he knew Scully wasn’t either, but the three of them had talked about it last night, and they knew it would be a safer place for her. They’d given her long hugs, the last thing before they left the bunker, and she’d looked at them with a fierce, hopeful expression, and she’d never reminded him more of Scully. “You’re going to beat them,” she’d said. Then she’d said, “Right?”, softly, and they’d hugged her again, even more tightly.

“We’ll do everything we can,” Scully had said. “That’s a promise.”

“We’re not going to stop fighting,” Mulder had said. “That’s not what we do, in this family. Right?”

“Right,” Susanna had said, her voice firmer. “I love you guys.”

“I love you too,” they’d both said, almost at the same moment.

With their last look back, they’d seen her sitting with the Knope-Wyatt triplets; they were a little older than she was, but they seemed to have gotten along last night. He was glad they were all together. He didn’t want to think of his daughter being alone.

And now they were in the car, the four of them—him and Scully and Leslie Knope and Ben Wyatt. This wasn’t something he’d expected, especially not at this time in his life. A secret mission with the president. At one point, it might have sounded exciting. Now he just wanted to be home, but he knew that wasn’t an option.

President Knope was looking at him as she plugged in her phone. “Any thoughts on the music?” she said. “It’s a long drive. Music can’t hurt.”

“We used to listen to classical music, usually,” Scully said from the back seat.

“I wouldn’t say usually,” Mulder said. He knew this was far from the most important issue facing them at the moment, but the whole situation was so strange anyway that he figured he might as well. “Just when you got to pick the station.”

“Which was not often enough,” Scully said.

“The two of you…did you do this often?” Ben asked tentatively. “That was what you did at the FBI? Fight aliens?”

“That was part of it,” Scully said.

“We investigated aliens and other paranormal phenomena,” Mulder said. He could see Ben’s face in the rearview mirror; he looked stunned.

“Be careful about getting him started,” President Knope said. “He’ll talk your ear off about this kind of stuff, if you let him.”

“I wouldn’t talk anyone’s ear off,” Ben said. “I was just thinking that it would be a shame to pass up the opportunity of learning more about this. It sounds very interesting.”

“Well, we’d be happy to tell you about it,” Mulder said. “Pass time on the drive that way.”

“Speaking of the drive, we should get going,” President Knope said. “I’ll start with the classical music,” she added, as Mulder started to drive. “As requested.”

“Thank you, President Knope,” Scully said.

“Please,” she said. “We’re going to be on a long drive together. Call me Leslie.”

“All right,” Scully said. She caught Mulder’s eye in the rearview mirror. He knew she was finding this as weird as he was. And they’d experienced some pretty weird things.

“So when you say other paranormal phenomena,” Ben asked, “what kind of things do you mean?”

“Oh, where to start?” Mulder said. “Let’s see. There was the flukeman…”

“He doesn’t want to hear about the flukeman,” Scully said. “I don’t even want to hear about it.”

“No, I’m happy to hear about it!” Ben said. “What is a flukeman?”

So Mulder explained the flukeman, as he drove, and Ben eagerly asked questions. “Wow,” he said. “It’s like something out of a movie. Do you think there could be more of them?”

“Let’s hope not,” Scully said.

“Yeah, it sounds gross,” Leslie said. “Should we stop for breakfast?”

“Now?” Ben asked.

“Well, we have to stop some time,” Leslie pointed out. “That looks like a diner over there. I hope they have waffles.”

“We’re just going to go into a diner?” Mulder said. “I mean, you’re the president.”

“If being the president means I can’t go into diners,” Leslie said, “I’m resigning once we’ve dealt with the aliens.” She laughed. “Kidding. Kidding. I’d never resign.”

“I didn’t mean you can’t go into a diner at all,” Mulder said. “I just meant right now. We don’t have any secret service…and we’re in the middle of an alien invasion…”

“But we have to eat,” Leslie said. He couldn’t argue with that.

“It should be fine,” Scully said. “We’ve faced things more threatening than diner customers.” He couldn’t argue with that either.

“And I’ll wear my coat with my hood up,” Leslie said, “so people aren’t looking at my face. If that would help.”

They parked the car outside the diner and walked in, Leslie with her hood pulled tightly around her face. He frankly wasn’t sure that she wasn’t drawing more attention to herself this way, but it didn’t seem worth arguing about.

There was no one in there, except for one elderly woman standing by the cash register. “Wow,” she said. “You four are sure brave to come out here today.”

“No customers, huh?” Scully said.

“Nah,” the woman said. “Everyone’s either hiding or dying or being possessed by the aliens or something. I don’t know why being possessed by the aliens would keep you from coming out to eat, though. Maybe the aliens don’t like waffles.” She chuckled.

“You have waffles?” Leslie asked.

“Yeah,” the woman said. “That’s our specialty. Why are you wearing that thing around your face? You an alien?”

“No, no,” Leslie said. “I’m…I’m the president, actually.” She let her hood drop.

The woman seemed unimpressed. “Oh,” she said. “Table for four?”

“Yes, please,” Leslie said, and the woman led them to a booth, putting down menus.

“You’re not thinking about hiding yourself?” Scully asked her, as she was about to move away.

“Nah,” she said. “I figure I’ve been through plenty of things worse. And I’ve got to run this place. Take your time with the choosing, if you want. I don’t have anyone else to wait on.”

“Oh, we won’t take too long,” Leslie said. “I already know what I want. And besides, we’ve got to get moving. We’re on a mission to stop the aliens, you know.”

The woman didn’t seem very impressed by that either. “Oh,” she said.

Leslie announced that she was getting the waffle special, and after some consideration the rest of them all decided to do the same. “Great,” the woman said, when they told her. “Four waffle specials, coming up.”

“Waffles are my favorite,” Leslie said. “Always have been. And you should have your favorite food when you’re dealing with something like this, right?”

“Makes sense to me,” Ben said.

“I knew that, actually, about the waffles,” Scully said. “It was in one of your videos. Susanna showed me.” She was quiet, then, and Mulder reached out for her hand.

Leslie must have picked up on it. “Hey, they’ll be all right,” she said. “Our kids are in the safest place there is, right now. I didn’t even know the White House had that bunker. And I’ve done a ton of research on the building.”

“She has,” Ben said. “Two binders full?”

“Three,” Leslie said. “Of course we worry about them—what parent wouldn’t? But I believe they’ll be safe. And I believe we’ll solve this.” Mulder had never been as gung-ho about Leslie as Susanna had—it wasn’t anything personal, but by now he didn’t have much trust in the government, no matter who was in charge. But in this moment, he could see what it was about her. That confidence. A certain magnetism.

“You’re right,” Scully said, and he could tell she was feeling it too. “There’s no point in…in agonizing. What we need to do is act.”

“Which we will do,” Leslie said, cheerfully, as their food arrived, “as soon as we’re fueled by waffles.”

They all seemed to want to avoid talking about the aliens while they ate. “Do the two of you have other kids?” Ben asked.

“Yes, we have a son,” Mulder said. He was still grateful that he could. “He’s much older, though. He lives in…Pennsylvania, now.” He thought Jackson was living in Pennsylvania, anyway. You could never be one hundred percent sure with him. He wondered if it was safe, where he was.

“How long have you been together?” Leslie asked.

“That’s a complicated one,” Scully said, laughing. “Well, we started working together in 1992. And then…I guess…since 2000? Officially.”

“We’ve been married almost thirty years,” Mulder offered.

“That’s great,” Leslie said. “We met through work too, you know. I think that’s a great place to find someone.” She gestured with her remaining piece of waffle. “I mean that in a completely ethical way.”

“We get it,” Scully said. “I think you’re right.”

Leslie finished the waffle. “All right,” she said. “Let’s pay so we can get back on the road.”

They did so—“You all have a good one,” the woman told them—and drove off down the mostly empty highway. Mulder wasn’t about to complain about the lack of alien interference they’d faced so far, but he did find it a bit unnerving. He was used to being chased, to the sense that something was going to happen at any moment. Now…it seemed like nothing was. Just driving along as quickly as they could, having getting-to-know-you conversations.

He was telling Ben about the case with the vampires in Chaney, Texas, and Scully was, as usual, telling her own, incorrect version, when all of that changed.

They were up ahead, spanning the highway so that there was no way around them. A line of still bodies—one or two were actually aliens, Mulder thought, but most of them were humans. He wasn’t close enough to see their eyes, but from the way they held themselves, he would bet money that they’d been infected.

He wasn’t the only one to notice. “Do we fight them?” Ben asked.

“If we have to,” Mulder said. “But maybe we should turn—” He looked in the rearview mirror. More aliens, more people. Filling in the road behind them. “I guess we fight them,” he said. “You remember what we said? About the back of the neck?” They were advancing towards the car now, and they didn’t look friendly. He reached for his gun and saw Scully doing the same. Then suddenly she stopped.

“Wait,” she said. “Mulder, we should go that way.” She pointed to the side of the road, a wooded area beyond it.

“In the woods?” he asked. “Scully, are you sure?” He wasn’t opposed to trying it, but he wasn’t sure how far they could get the car, and the suggestion didn’t seem like her.

“Yes,” she said. “I…I’m getting something.”

“You’re…like from Jackson?” he said, and she nodded. He remembered her visions, of course, but she hadn’t had one for a long time now. Maybe there hadn’t been the need.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m not sure, it’s…we should be safe, if we go that way.” Leslie and Ben were watching them, understandable looks of confusion on their faces.

There wasn’t much time to think over the decision, especially since the first alien reached the car at that moment. It grabbed the door handle, rattling it. “Okay,” Mulder said. “Let’s go.”

There was a gap in the barrier between the highway and the woods, almost as if someone had prepared it for them. Mulder put on speed, shaking off the alien, driving through the gap and then through the woods, as quickly as he could without hitting any trees. “Where are we going?” Ben asked, a mix of trepidation and excitement in his voice.

“And what are we doing?” Leslie asked.

“Not entirely sure,” Mulder said.

“But we should be all right,” Scully said. “Just a little further…”

And then they were in an area where the trees thinned, and there was a head and shoulders sticking out of the ground: a young woman with light brown skin and curly hair. “I think I see them!” she yelled, scrambling fully out of the hole, and after a moment Jackson followed her.

“Yeah, it’s them,” he said. He walked over as Mulder parked the car. “I’m glad you guys made it.” A double take. “Woah, you brought the president.”

#my fic #the x files #Parks and Recreation #leslie knope #Dana Scully #ben wyatt #Fox Mulder #crossover

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futchloser-moved · 6 years ago

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hewwo i turned the inaugural death of mister seven into one big block of text!!! why??? I DONT FUCKING KNOW but i did!!!

below VV

Your name is CROWBAR. You remember the first time you ever got offed like it was yesterday. But then, you tend to remember damn near everything like it was yesterday. And when a fella whets his bill on time travel as much as you, yesterday's when damn near everything literally took place. But that's beside the point. The POINT is, a guy like you's gotta remember things. No room for error when you're in charge of a bunch of maroons like these. Maroon's your favorite color, in case it wasn't obvious by the rugged hue of your jaunty tricorned HAT. But like you say all the time, lugs this dumb give the color a bad name. Yeah, that line never did get a laugh. Not even ONCE. Never did claim comedy was your bag, though. Your bag's a whole 'nother can of worms entirely. And those worms swear on their ugly mothers' graves that you're a hard-nosed, square-shouldered, spare-the-lip and shoot-from-the-hip gang boss. Or third in command, to be precise. But who's counting? The answer, of course is, you are. YOU'RE counting. It's your JOB to count. As number three of the the outfit (i.e. number seven, lest we get confused) it's ALSO your job to do what Number Two says. (He don't got a number in actuality. Cueball-head wouldn't wear a hat in the damn presence of royalty, the cocky bastard.) Number Two naturally gets his orders from Number One, who's a man of few words in your experience. The top dog used to give you lip all the time, which is really saying something for a man whose head is a gruesome, lipless skull. Those were the old days, though. Now Number Two serves as his mouth. And what a mouth it is. The man's got a hell of a trap for a guy sportin' a spherical head with no features whatsoever. Hey, look. You just follow orders, no matter what kind of freak show comprises the particular cabal of superiors barkin' em at ya. They call Number Two the Doc. And the Doc made it clear he wants you to round up the boys for a meeting in his study. In your humble opinion, the hatless wonder's a true man of mystery. And guessin' his designs is about as fruitless as a plundered gift basket. But if you had to bet, you'd bet dollars to crullers* there's a heist afoot. *Crullers instead of donuts 'cause when it comes to the Doc's schemes, there's ALWAYS a twist. First step along the way is Number Two. No, not by rank, ya clueless boob. By HAT, of course. This guy's infinitely less clever than the Doc. In fact, it ain't out of line to characterize him as a little slow upstairs. AND downstairs. "Infinitely" in this case ain't hyperbolic. [#2 - DOZE. Doze has the ability to slow down time within radius localized to himself, and himself alone.] You don't DO hyperbole. It's on a list of stuff you don't do. The list is literally kept in your breast pocket to show at clowns who don't take you serious now and then. You tell him to come with you, gotta meet Doc in the study. Oh great. He predictably replies with the arduous low-pitched beginning of some long-ass drawn-out remark. You don't have time for this. You leave the room to round up more men. The end of this sentence ain't seein' the light of day anytime soon. Who's next? Ah, excellent. Someone else is approaching. Saves you the trouble of rootin' them out. Aaand yeah, it's you. Just what you needed. TIME SHENANIGANS. Looks like past-you or future-you or whoever is leading Sawbuck somewhere. You know what? Whatever, man. [#7 - CROWBAR. In charge, mostly. Wields a crowbar.] [#10 - SAWBUCK. Don't worry about it. You'll get to him later.] You're not even going to ask. It NEVER pays to indulge in time shenanigans. That's what you say. No one listens, though. Other-you's got a question, though. You say shoot. He's wondering if Doze in there has finished his sentence yet. You say not even close, my friend. He's only just begun lettin' words spill out of his dumb, sluggish maw. He says God fucking dammit. You say you feel his pain, brother. You and he soldier on in your respective directions. You give the the door a firm rap or two with your trusty crowbar and let yourself into the OH GOOD GOD. You avert your eyes and clear your throat. You try to visualize something else. A suit you need to remember to bring by for tailoring. The lukewarm cup of joe you didn't finish this morning, sitting on your desk. And... nope. The damage is done. You can't unsee it. Listen, you ain't no Puritan Pete! [#4 - CLOVER. Is extremely lucky.] What two consenting adult men get up to behind closed doors is their own damn business. You just wish Clover wouldn't do his frisky little dance numbers behind SO MANY of the closed doors in this mansion. Part of you wonders what charm the little guy was soliciting Itchy with. Horseshoes? Balloons? No wait. You don't care. Train of thought cancelled. (They're all wrong for balloons, anyway. Trust you. It wouldn't work out.) You tell the men to quit the ahem, fancy footwork. There's business with the Doc. Sure boss, after you! squeaks the lucky runt. Luck's always on his side, you should mention. Little bastard's as lucky as one gets, and sure seem he's one to get lucky a lot, if you catch your drift. Itchy, as usual, makes it his business to be a rash on your backside. The attitude on this guy. Says he's in no particular hurry. Will be along as soon as he's done with this... What is that? 10,000 pieces? Come on, guy. You say with the giddyup he's got, that puzzle should take him just shy of no time flat, and he KNOWS it. [#1 - ITCHY. Is extremely fast.] He's real fast, see? Itchy says he ain't in a hurryin' mood. Wants to relax, take his sweeeeeet time with it. Is he kidding you? This jabroni's barely even trying. No. It doesn't go there. NO. You say the horse butt goes BEHIND the animal, not like, hovering in front of its face, you stupid piece of shit. The guy keeps at it anyway. You know what. Let the baby have his bottle. You're out of here.You enter the boutique of the gang's in-house tailor. Any mug in the biz you're in knows a good tailor's a must. The name's Stitch, and the man's a miracle worker with a needle and thread. Looks to be patching up a head wound on some dope's recent injury. You say what happened here? No unauthorized shenanigans, you hope. [#9 - STITCH. A damn good tailor.] He asks, are any shenanigans authorized? You say hell no. He gives you a curt nod. Always refreshing to be in the company of men who don't cotton to nonsense. He says don't worry about it, he'll be along once he finishes up here. Good enough for you. You leave without a word. Here's where Die holes up. Seems he ain't into company at the moment. For half a second, you contemplate respecting the guy's privacy. You spend the other half of the second kicking down his door. Just what in the fresh gobsmacking fuck is going on in here, is the out-loud thing you wonder. What's he doing cooped up with all the live poultry? Die doesn't say a word. Deer in headlights with this guy, when you catch him in the act. There's ALWAYS an act to catch him in, and he never don't get caught. Man's like a deer stuck in the high-beams of a parked ass car. You say nevermind, forget you asked. He starts up with his mumblin' suddenly. Oh, now he's got somethin' to say? What's that pal? Can't hear a word you're sayin'. You said speak up. Look, put the chicken down. You said put it down. That's it, you've had it. You're sick of this shit. How 'bout a taste of the mean end of your crowbar. Both ends are the mean end. He pulls his little doll on you. You gasp. You're not much for sarcasm, but yeah, the gasp was sarcastic. Couldn't help it. It's a mighty potent juju he's got there for sure, but functionally it won't mean squat to you if he sticks your pin in there. He'll jump to a different timeline where you're dead. You'll still be here, though. With one less idiot to corral. [#6 - DIE. Plays with dolls.] Still, won't do you to watch him disappear. Doc wants a word with ALL the idiots. You gesture at Clover. Tell him to make Die listen to reason. Atta boy, Clov-HEY! Cut it out. Both feet on the floor, you mean it. Christ almighty. Smutty little munchkin doesn't know when to quit. You hear a ruckus from the game room. Sounds like the moron motherlode's in there. Yep. It's pinhead playdirt. You tip your cap to Fin and Trace. Couple of peas in a pod, those two. Just a pair of blokes sharing in a bout of what is surely the Game of Lords, a rousing and gentlemanly match of TABLE STICKBALL. And back there, another couple playing a game of... Oh now what the fuck. Is that Itchy!? You could have sworn he was deliberately being a punk and takin' forever with the horse puzzle. Itchy says oh, that old thing? Finished with it AGES ago and sauntered over here for a friendly game of cards with his good friend... ...wait, what was your name again? This guy, he says. The huge asshole with the 14 on his dumb-looking hat. [#14 - QUARTERS. Flips a coin. Looks badass while doing it.] Quarters lets out a deep sigh. Itchy keeps running his trap. Try to keep with the times, OLD MAN. Old man, you say? Technically you're younger than he is. They all are, in fact. He says come again? He didn't follow that. He was busy plucking another hapless pigeon. Itchy slides all the chips to his side of the table. Booyeah, motherfuckers. Booyeah. Die mumbles did he say chicken? You say huh? Die mumbles nothin'. He just thought he heard him say somethin' about chickens is all. All you's listen up. There's a meeting in the study. You say everyone come this way or you'll give 'em what for. (Will you quit clickin' those little buckled shoes together for a Midnight City minute? You say you're flattered but this ain't the time or place!) (Besides, you aren't down with moons. That's not how you roll.) Yeah, yeah. Look, you know it's bad form to leave a game of table stickball before the empty sockets have swallowed all the roundcircles, but this here's a red-letter meeting with doctor white-words. They need to follow you, see? That's what you two are best at, following, ain'tcha? [#3 - TRACE. Can follow peoples' past trails.] [#5 - FIN. Can follow peoples' future trails.] Fin, you can see where anyone's headed in the near future, yeah? You're just askin', because you'll eat your stylish three point hat if every lug in this room isn't headed right out the door in the VERY near future. Isn't that right, Fin? In your haste, your freight train of chartreuse goons almost railroads one of the bigger stiffs rounding the corner. The stiff says hey chief. Where's the fire? You tell him you didn't think you were walking that fast, to be honest. He says no, he was literally asking where the fire was. So he can put it out. See? [#11 - MATCHSTICKS. Concerned with fire safety. It's everyone's business.] Back of the line, you say. We all got an appointment with the Doc. Yeah, you know the guy was aimin' for a chuckle outta you. Like you said. Comedy's not your bag. It's no one's bag, really. When you belong to the Felt, you're either as serious as a heart attack, or as dumb as a brain hemorrhage. Or the medically spectacular situation where those two problems coincide. Son of a!!! You tell Sawbuck he can stay in the front of the line with you. No chance in hell this butterball can squeeze by all these green bozos. [#10 - SAWBUCK. Again, don't worry about it. You'll hit him up later.] Last thing you need is another mansion clog. You take a detour to hit the lounge. If your instincts are right, this is where you'll find you know who. For some reason, you can never bring yourself to say her name. Two simple syllables. You're told the word means a child's plaything in the winter, like some kinda frost puppet. Fitting that the sound of it sends a chill down your spine. The boys hesitate to speak of her, just like they hold their fire whenever she fades from black. She's here, just like you thought. Creatures of habit, dames. Not that you have much experience with dames, mind you. You only ever met the one. [#8 - SNOWMAN. If Snowman is killed, the universe is destroyed.] So uh, hey. Yeah, uh. You tell the dame there's this meeting you see. You know. With the Doc? And... yeah. You mumble a few other things, but you don't know why you're even troubling yourself. That spooky broad doesn't give a flying god damn about what you got to say. You lead your posse into the clock room. Well, A clock room. There are a lot of clocks in the mansion. A few too many if you ask you. There's a tarp over there in the corner, covering something up. Something BIG. Some of the boys don't remember ever seein' no tarp there before. Strikes you as a funny observation coming from them, seeing as you can't even figure how they remember to dress themselves half the time. You say never your damn mind, a mouth like that could only conceivably serve as a gateway to the utterly worthless. Look at this mess. Do you really even need to tell these mooks why whatever it is they're doing in here is dumb as all getout? Oh well, at least there are only two of them this time. [#13 - BISCUITS. Thinks his oven allows him to time travel.] Biscuits says the rest of us are in the oven. You say did you ASK what's in the fucking oven? You say the next time you ask for a peek in his damn oven it'll be on the account of your prior instruction to bake a god damn cake. Sawbuck says ooh. Cake. No, you gluttonous fool! [#10 - SAWBUCK. Jumps to a random point in time when injured.] You said don't open that oven! Never gonna see the Doc at this rate. And by this rate, you mean going back in time due to perfectly avoidable reasons. You keep pressing on like the true professional you are. This way, lunkhead. Yes sir, he waddles. Ah, rats. Someone else is approaching. You got a feeling you know who it is. Aaand yeah. It's you again. Just what you needed, and were inexorably bound to receive due to the laws of causality. Looks like past-you or future-you or whoever is rounding up the troops. You know what? Whatever, man. He's not even going to ask. And neither are you, 'cause you didn't before, and ain't really feelin' any chattier this time around. This buffoon is still in the middle of his endless friggin' sentence. Unbelievable, the kind of horseshit this line of work entails. You consider how you might speed up his bird brained response. Not that it matters, since this guy never made a remark in his life which didn't function as a powerful sedative. You think about walloping Sawbuck again, to skip to another time. Maybe one good drub'll do ya. No, too risky. Might shoot back a million years in the past. Need to take matters into your own hands, or better yet, hands belonging to some grunt you get paid to boss around. [#15 - CANS. Has the ability to clock a guy into next week.] Oh yeah. As in, you forgot what a racket this two ton galoot made when he makes an entrance. That's what you meant when you said oh yeah. As in, oh yeah, you just remembered that. Anyway, you tell Cans to give the slowpoke a lift and break a leg this-a-way. He says huh? You say grab Doze and follow me. Muscle. You swear to god. If it isn't tweedle-dipshit and tweedle-dumbass again. Why are you not surprised? The reason you aren't surprised is because you knew they would be here, and you sought them out deliberately. You don't say that out loud though, for the same reason you don't ask them to do your taxes. Eggs and Biscuits ask what you're doing here, boss. Just completing the circle of stupidity, you say. You hide under the tarp and swear these two walking jokes to absolute secrecy while this whole mess plays itself out again. Not a peep outta them, or you'll be making breakfast, see? And you don't mean pouring yourself a bowl of Froot Loops, get your drift? They don't get your drift, but time's up. Other-you and the peanut gallery's gonna waltz in any minute. Any minute later... About damned time. Like pulling teeth, herding these fuckups. How long did that even take? Not counting negative time, you mean. "Nineteen pages, it would seem." What? That many? "Yes." Seems like a lot. "Well, there are nearly that many members to gather." "I'd characterize the final tally as predictable, in hindsight." The Doc sure can be a smartass. You keep that thought to yourself. "Not that the omniscient has much use for hindsight. Not even those of us deemed smartasses by our subordinates." You don't got a clue how he does that. And if you're honest with yourself, and him too, you don't much care. "Please see me in my study at once." You heard the man. Let's mosey. They didn't hear a thing, but they follow you anyway. Welcome, minions. Ages ago, beyond a span of time that is impossible to measure in any empirical sense, our master set in motion a critical chain of events. He summoned you all one by one. And in return, you have vowed to serve him for the rest of his interminable life, just as I have sworn to do for the remainder of mine. Yes, you may resemble a flock of unremarkable, unintelligent cretins. But as the servants of a very important man, you, by extension, are also very important. If all thoughts but one escape the cottony substance wadded up inside your heads, let this one be the one you keep. Your mission, which I am about to describe, is but another link in this critical chain. It is far from the last, and even further from the first. There have been many crucial links over the epochs to which I myself have been privy and complicit. I will describe to you in a plurality of detail. Listen carefully. Cripes. Baldy McSoftBody here sure enjoys the sound of his own voice. You wonder if he'll get to the point soon. "I am a patient man, Mr. Seven. It is a quality that has served me well in preparing for the arrival of our master." You wonder how he DOES that. You ain't even talkin' out loud here. This is just a bit of hard boiled, no-nonsense narrative introspection. You're pretty sure it ain't even real in any meaningful respect. "No-nonsense? You flatter yourself. May I continue?" Yeah, yeah. The Doc dives cueball-first through some mad ramble on a fairytale about some giant space frog. You're on pins and needles as you check your watch. You know it ain't lost on a smart cookie like him that checkin' your watch in a room full of clocks is extra passive-aggressive. Yada yada, then he says there's some planet that grew in its belly called Alternicon or what have you. Run by a race of savages it would seem. Long story short, the Doc here fucked with 'em for about a billion damn years and they all died off as a result. Heh. Classic Scratch. Ah, got it. The town they built is Midnight City. It's just a bomb's lob away from the gang's mansion. GREAT place for crimes. Almost like it was put there just so's a load of goons like you could have your run of the place. In fact, you're pretty sure that's why the boss set up shop on this one-town rock, just outside city limits. You know what they say about location. Well, they don't say nothin' special about it. They just say the word two more times, and that pretty much gets the point across. "Cool story." After a few more minutes and a few more barbs exchanged through a conversational medium you still can't quite wrap your head around, Doc wraps up the history lesson. Cripes. Not to second guess the head honcho, but delegating his orders to this bloviating creep is a helluva test to a faithful third officer's loyalty. He's got a folder and says let's get down to business. Let's get down to business. As you can see, I've got a folder. It contains your mission. You will review it carefully. By which I mean, one of you, this organization's faithful third officer. He will lead a team on this mission. No kidding. You take the folder and check it out. Says you're supposed to... Huh. You're supposed to- You're supposed to retrieve a package from an anonymous recipient. I cannot divulge the identity of this man. If you are able to bring the package to me, I will give you further instructions. You are to pick up the package from a courier in the city. He is to rendezvous with you at the supplied address, at a precise time. You are not to be late, and never open the package. Do you all understand what I have said? You scope the crowd. They're bored out of their melons. And, nope. Nobody understands. Except for you. It's your job to understand. CHOOSE YOUR TEAM, CROWBAR. He tells you to pick a team for the job and be on your way. Seems like this pack of lugs has worn out its welcome in his office. Which is an ironic attitude to have for a guy who makes his bones holding men hostage to hours-long anecdotes, but whatever. The team's an easy call. You'll go with the solid colors today. A pickup is light work. You don't see the need to pack any muscle on this trip. Hard to imagine securing a box from a chess guy could ever get too hot to handle. And in any case, the Doc being omniscient surely would let you know in advance if it was gonna go down like that, right? "Any man with my foresight, who had your best interests in mind, would do exactly as you say. Absolutely." Yeah, see? Gotta love the Doc. But then again, it's like you've always said. For a filthy liar, the Doc sure is good at stickin' to the truth. You remember his genteel assurance like a knife stuck in your mind. Hell, maybe that's roughly akin to the way the guy speaks, since he ain't got a mouth to make sound with. You remember piling into this hot car with your six solids and cruising through the desert like it happened last week. Hell, when you wet your whistle on time travel as much as you, maybe it even did. And the first time you got offed? You remember that like it was yesterday. Less than yesterday, even, because that's what you do. Remember things. You remember the first time you laid eyes on the Midnight City skyline. You remember your first kiss. And you remember that fateful night plain as day. The night you met a man named Spades Slick.

#took me around 4 hours #the felt #homestuck #intermission #the intermission #the inaugural death of mister seven #Tired Text Posts

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isolavirtuosa · 7 years ago

Text

A Public Affair, Part 2: Shikamaru

[fanfiction] NaruSasu

Cheating has consequences.

[Previous Parts]

Part 2 under the cut:

2: Shikamaru

Naruto came into the office looking frazzled. It reminded me of when we were kids, when every little thing that was going on in his head showed on his face.

“Can we have the room?” I said, eyeing the ANBU who were standing guard.

They both turned to Naruto, who nodded at them.

“We’ll be outside the door.”

Naruto flopped onto his chair and groaned.

“What?” I asked, cutting to the chase. I knew that I really didn’t want to hear what was about to come out of his mouth, but he needed to get it out. The thought of him unleashing it on someone else was not a good one.

“It’s bad,” Naruto said quietly.

I stared at him, waiting for him to continue.

“Ughhhh,” Naruto said, burying his face in his arms.

“Naruto, we have a lot to do today.”

Naruto peeked up at me. “Can’t you clear my schedule?”

“No.”

“Gaaaah,” Naruto said, leaning back in his chair again. “Shit, what am I gonna do?”

“I can’t really advise you when you haven’t given me the details.”

Naruto shot me a weary look, looking much more like the Seventh.

“What happened with Sasuke?” I asked, rubbing the bridge of my nose. I really didn’t want to know. Okay, a small part of me wanted to know. But it was just all so annoying to deal with, and we didn’t have time for it with the big summit coming up, and the unrest in the Land of Waves. Then there was the impossible task of getting Konohamaru ready for his inauguration within the next year. My plate was full, and I didn’t need more extra-marital Naruto and Sasuke drama to add to it.

“We made love!” Naruto finally said.

“You’ve been fucking for months.”

“Yes, fucking. We’ve been fucking. But last night. Oh my god, I can’t believe that happened.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying that Sasuke and I made love. We even kissed. Oh my god, we kissed. With tongue and everything.”

“Finally,” I muttered.

“What do you mean, ‘finally’?!” Naruto cried, flailing around. “It was a mistake, a huge mistake, and it can’t ever happen again!”

“Naruto, just stop,” I said, shaking my head. “This has gone on long enough. You need to acknowledge that you are in love with Sasuke, and you are cheating on your wife.”

“What?!” Naruto cried, flailing even harder. “I’m not… I definitely don’t love that selfish bastard. I love Hinata! My wife! An actual woman! The love of my life! You know that. And we’re just… I mean, he’s really good at giving head, and he’s always offering, so… Well, no, it’s not what it sounds like! I’m not using him, I mean I do stuff for him, too. We mutually do stuff together. It’s not love-”

“You are in love with Sasuke, and you’re cheating on your wife.”

“Stop saying that! How many times do I have to explain-”

“Naruto.”

“I’m not cheating on Hinata, she’s my everything, and-”

“Naruto.”

“Sasuke is my friend, that’s all. Well, my best friend. But that’s all. All that other stuff… it’s just what guys do.”

I didn’t even have to say anything.

“What?” Naruto said, his lower lip sticking out in a pout that I probably hadn’t seen in 20 years.

“So how does that work, exactly?” I asked. “I say, ‘damn, Naruto, I’m really hard and I don’t feel like bothering Temari, so can you take care of this for me?’ And you say, ‘Yeah, of course, man, that’s what friends are for.’”

Naruto’s pout deepened into a sulk.

“Just admit-” I started to say, when there was a knock at the door.

“Come in!” Naruto said enthusiastically.

I frowned at him.

“What the hell is this crap about the Land of Waves?” Sasuke asked as he walked through the door.

Naruto froze.

“There’ve been a lot of rogue ninjas spotted there,” I said. “Seems like ninja-on-civilian crime has increased in proportion. We’re looking into why they’re gathering there.”

“And you’re just telling me this now because…?”

“We only got the report yesterday.”

“When am I headed out?”

We both turned to Naruto, who was still frozen.

“What’s with the stupid look, dobe? I asked you a question.”

“Oh, uh…” Naruto trailed off.

“Is it just me, or is he being stupider than usual?” Sasuke asked, glancing towards me.

“Can’t argue with that,” I agreed.

“Shikamaru, get out,” Naruto said, finally finding his voice. “Please,” he added for good measure.

I stared both of them down before leaving. We had had one too many discussions about how the hokage’s desk was not an appropriate place for sexual activity.

“You’re the only person who busts in here without knocking,” Naruto had tried protesting after the fourth time I caught them in a compromising position.

“It won’t happen again,” Sasuke had interjected, and it hadn’t.

But something was in the air today, and they were either heading towards a big fight or another misappropriation of the hokage’s desk.

What had Naruto said earlier? ‘We made love.’ ‘We even kissed.’

I moved brusquely towards the conference room. Documents for the upcoming summit were spread across the table. I got to work going through them, all the while my mind was running through possible ways to deal with the Sasuke situation.

Naruto and Sasuke were part of the most intricate game of shogi that I had ever witnessed. The game had stretched out over the years, but Sasuke finally had Naruto in check. The next move could decide the game, and I had to decide if I needed to intervene.

“Shikamaruuuuuuu!”

I glanced up from my work as one of the interns came running in. “Yes?” I asked calmly.

“It’s the hokage and Uchiha Sasuke, sir!”

I sighed, putting down the folder in my hand and heading back to the office.

Sasuke was standing on one side of the room, his single arm resting against his chest in his updated version of the ‘cross arms, ignore Naruto’ pose.

Naruto stood on the other side of the room, an ANBU pinning him to the wall while he ranted and struggled and in general acted a damn fool.

“Hokage-sama,” I said, leveling Naruto with A Look.

“He started it!” Naruto yelled. His lip was split and his eye was black.

“You’re behaving like a child, Naruto,” Sasuke said, rolling his eyes.

“You’re both acting like you’re twelve,” I informed them. “You can go,” I said to the ANBU.

“Yeah, you can go, let me at ’em,” Naruto said, his eyes glinting dangerously.

The ANBU hesitated.

ANBU weren’t used to a juvenile hokage who behaved like an idiot.

“It’s fine,” I reassured her.

“Apologies, Hokage-sama,” the ANBU said, bowing as she withdrew from him and disappeared.

“Now where were we?” Naruto asked, cracking his knuckles.

“Sit down and be quiet,” I said, closing the door irritably. “Is it so much to ask for a quiet workday? I’m not a damn babysitter.”

“I’m the hokage, you don’t tell me what to do,” Naruto said sulkily.

“You two are idiots,” I said, shaking my head.

“I resent being grouped together with that moron,” Sasuke protested, eyes narrowed.

“Then stop being ridiculous,” I said.

Sasuke let out a puff of air to signal his exasperation.

“Ha, you’re as stupid as me,” Naruto said, seeming very content.

“Moron,” Sasuke muttered.

“Wanna say that to my face?” Naruto growled, clenching his fist.

“I just did.”

“I do not have time for this,” I muttered.

“Then leave,” Naruto said, making a dismissive gesture.

“Do you two want to get caught?” I spat out, finding myself losing my own temper.

Sasuke looked at me evenly. Of course he wanted to get caught.

Naruto just looked confused.

“Anyone with half a brain would be able to tell that your mouths are swollen from kissing, those bruises on Sasuke’s neck are clearly hickeys, and Naruto’s split lip is the result of being bitten, not punched.”

“Oh,” Naruto said, scratching his nose. “Yeah, well, things kinda got outta hand earlier.”

“Out of hand…?” Sasuke muttered.

“Yes, bastard, I thought that fucking on my desk was a little out of hand.”

“Felt good, though,” Sasuke said, tilting his head to the side and staring at Naruto.

The look in Naruto’s eyes suddenly went feral.

“Sasuke, you need to leave,” I said, opening the door.

Sasuke shrugged and sauntered by me out the door. “I’ve got better things to do, anyway.”

Naruto watched him go. Then he turned to me, frowning. “Why?”

“You can’t think straight anymore when Sasuke’s around.”

“That’s not… true…” Naruto said, tasting the lie in his own words. He flopped onto his chair with a dramatic sigh.

“What were you even fighting about?”

“I told Sasuke he’s not leaving the village, and then he said that I can’t tell him what to do, so I pulled the hokage card, which made him all bitchy, so we had sex on the desk… Sorry about that, but anyway, after that he told me he was going to the Land of Waves, and I told him I was sending someone else, and then he said that he’s not a bird in a cage, and I was like duh, who even would think that, and then he started getting mad, so I got mad, and then I don’t really know what happened, but the ANBU came in and I tried to kill Sasuke, and then you came, so that’s the story.”

I sank down into one of the chairs in front of Naruto’s desk. “Naruto.”

“I know, I know,” he groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “What’s wrong with me?”

“You’re in love,” I stated flatly.

Naruto let out a long breath from his nose, then looked up at me with a pained smile. “I think maybe I am.”

“Admission is the first step to recovery.”

“I didn’t know,” he said quietly. “I really thought we were just friends.”

“But now you know?”

Naruto hesitated, before nodding his head. “Yeah.”

I studied the sad look in his eyes. He was calmer now, more himself. “Then what are you going to do about it?”

“What can I do?” he asked, sounding defeated.

“You can leave your wife of twenty plus years, or you can send Sasuke away.”

“Those are my choices?”

“Those are your choices.”

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Naruto called.

Konohamaru came in, and the two prepared for their daily meeting.

I went back to the conference room, ready to get back to work. It was hard to push the hokage’s infidelity out of my mind, though. If it came out that Naruto was sleeping with Sasuke, there was going to be a negative backlash against Naruto himself and ninjas in general. He was our leader, and he was expected to behave in a certain way.

I thought of Naruto as a kid, always smiling as he dragged everyone into his light.

My stomach clenched.

This was about what was best for Konoha. It was my job to make sure that everything ran smoothly, and that the office of the hokage was not marred with scandal. All those years of doing the job acceptably would be down the drain with a hokage cheating on his wife with a former traitor who was also a man.

It was all such a pain in the ass.

Naruto’s retirement is what started it all.

He’d told Sasuke and I together, then taken out an old bottle of whiskey from his desk and started filling glasses. It had been comfortable and companionable, and when one drink turned to ten, I hadn’t really thought anything of it. We all felt strangely free, like a burden had been lifted.

Then Sasuke got that look in his eye, that same damn look from when he was twelve years old and wanted Naruto’s attention.

“You suck at drinking, usuratonkachi.”

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Naruto demanded, slamming his glass on his desk. “I’m the hokage, bitch. I can drink you under the table.”

I blinked slowly, realizing that Naruto had the same damn look on his face.

Sasuke snorted his disdain, Naruto flailed around and yelled, and then they both started pouring each other shots and downing them.

“I’m gonna… go…” I said, taking my leave without either of them noticing.

The next morning, I found Naruto asleep on his desk.

“You didn’t go home last night?” I asked after shaking him awake.

“Oh, god…” he groaned, dropping his face in his hands. “I can never go home again.”

“Why?” I asked, straightening up some papers on his desk.

“I think I had sex with Sasuke.”

I paused. “You think?” I asked, clarifying.

“Does oral count?”

“Yes.”

“Oh,” Naruto said, looking even more downcast. “I had sex with Sasuke.”

I should have been more surprised, but anyone with half a brain knew that Sasuke had been in love with Naruto for years. And anyone with half a brain would have also noticed that that the way Naruto treated Sasuke was as more than a friend.

Fortunately, most people in Konoha did not meet the half-brain requirement.

I was already going through all of the possible contingencies when I asked, “So what are you going to do?”

“Bury it deep and forget it ever happened?” Naruto suggested hopefully.

“You don’t just forget about someone you have such strong feelings for.”

“Feelings?” Naruto said, wrinkling his nose. “Who said anything about feelings? We were drunk. It didn’t mean anything.”

And that’s when I remembered the horrible truth that out of all the oblivious people in Konoha, Naruto led the pack.

“Actually…” Naruto paused, perking up. “It really didn’t mean anything. Ha ha. What was I worried about? It’s not like I love that bastard or anything. So it wasn’t cheating. Oh, man, Shikamaru, I’m so glad that we had this talk.”

That was the beginning of Naruto’s rationalization of his affair.

I should have made more of an effort to put a stop to it, but it was oddly refreshing to have a hokage who was always smiling and laughing all of the sudden. Naruto was visibly happier, and I couldn’t bring myself to interfere with that.

Now here we were, with the oblivious hokage finally realizing that he was in love with his mistress, and the proverbial shit was about to hit the fan.

I hadn’t done my job properly, and I needed to take responsibility.

I went into Naruto’s office after everyone else had left.

He looked up from his paperwork wearily.

“We need to talk,” I said.

“I’m sending Boruto to the Land of Waves.”

I stared at him.

“He said he wants to do what Sasuke does, so why not start him off now?”

I stared harder at him.

“It’ll be a good-”

“And Sasuke?” I cut in.

“He’ll stay here and help m-”

“Send him to the Land of Waves.”

“I just tol-”

“He should go with Boruto. If it’s a training mission, then Boruto should be with his teacher.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Was there a specific reason for Sasuke to stay in the village?” I asked, giving him a hard look.

Naruto met my gaze evenly. “I need his help in preparing Konohamaru-”

“Send Sasuke to the Land of Waves. There’s no reason for him to stay in Konoha.”

“Is that your advice as my official advisor?”

“It is.”

Naruto looked pained. “I see.”

“It’s the best course of action,” I said, then took my leave.

It was what was best for Konoha. I just wasn’t sure it was what was best for Naruto.

Two days later, Sasuke and Boruto set off for the Land of Waves.

Naruto waved them both off with a smile that strained at the edges. Then he went back to work.

#narusasu #fanfiction #isola a public affair

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talltalestogo · 4 years ago

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Adam Jentleson traces the history of the filibuster, which started as a tool of Southern senators upholding slavery and then later became a mechanism to block civil rights legislation.

TERRY GROSS, HOST:

This is FRESH AIR. I'm Terry Gross. Congress is trying to return to normal after the insurrection. But what is normal? There are more threats of violence surrounding the inauguration. The norm-breaking that became the norm during the Trump presidency is about to change with the Biden administration. Another change will be the new Democratic majority in the Senate. After newly elected Jon Ossoff and Raphael Warnock are sworn in, the Senate will be evenly divided, 50 Republicans and 50 Democrats. But Vice President Kamala Harris will have the tie-breaking vote.

But how much power does that actually give Democrats in the Senate? A majority is not enough to pass legislation anymore and hasn't been for a long time because of the modern use of the filibuster. It takes three-fifths of the Senate to override a filibuster, which means the minority only needs 41 votes to prevent any bill from even coming to a vote. My guest Adam Jentleson says the modern use of the filibuster has crippled American democracy, enabling the minority to systematically block bills favored by the majority. He's the author of the new book, "Kill Switch," about the rise of the modern Senate. He knows the ins and outs of Senate rules because he worked as Harry Reid's deputy chief of staff when Reid was the Democratic leader. Jentleson joined Reid's staff in 2010 and stayed until 2017.

"Kill Switch" is a history of how the filibuster started as a tool of Southern senators upholding slavery, and then later was used as a tool to block civil rights legislation. The book concludes with Senator Mitch McConnell's advances in the use of filibuster as an obstructionist tool. Jentleson is now public affairs director at Democracy Forward, which was founded in 2017 to fight corruption in the executive branch. We recorded our interview yesterday morning.

Adam Jentleson, welcome to FRESH AIR.

ADAM JENTLESON: It's wonderful to be here.

GROSS: It's a pleasure to have you. Let's start with the insurrection. Where were you? And what was your reaction as it was happening?

JENTLESON: I was actually in Georgetown, which is sort of, you know, in the northern part of Washington, D.C., watching it on television. And what was expected to be sort of a routine - well, not routine, but at least an event where we knew what the outcome was going to be turned into something very different and shocking. Even though we knew there were going to be objections and extended debate, it seemed like the outcome was inevitable. And watching what unfolded was just - I don't really - still don't have words to describe it. It was something dangerous and scary and very deeply depressing.

GROSS: Your new book is about how Congress became so polarized. The insurrection was designed to disrupt and punish everyone in Congress voting to certify Joe Biden's win and to prevent him from taking office. What is the larger meaning you take away from the fact that this happened, that this could happen?

JENTLESON: I think that what's clear is that the party itself, its structures, its leaders and the base voters that it responds to, have morphed into something that is much similar to the type of far-right parties that we see in Western Europe. And I think that it's really important for us as a society to confront this fact head on. There are lots of good Republicans. There are good Republican leaders. The problem is that, in politics, the business is winning elections. And what politicians tend to do in almost every case is follow their voters. And I think the danger here is that the voters are the same ones who embraced Donald Trump from the very beginning, who continue to stick with him through all of the outrages of the last four years and will continue to pull the party in this direction.

GROSS: What powers do members of Congress have to censure or remove or in any way address the members of Congress who continued to object to the certification of Joe Biden's victory after it was certified time and time again and after lawsuits upheld it? Knowing now what we know, that they encouraged this mob to - you know, and we see what happened. You know, they invaded Congress. They ransacked part of Congress. Some of them were armed. So what power do members of Congress have?

JENTLESON: They actually have a lot of power here. The courts have given Congress itself a lot of leeway to determine appropriate action for members that they want to punish. And the types of punishments range from censure or reprimands, you know, which are sort of, you know, a finger wag, but much more than that - I mean, it is something that does not happen frequently and would be a massive blemish on the members' records - all the way to expulsion and formally expelling them from the body.

This has not happened very often. But it has happened. And that could be an appropriate remedy here. If the chamber decides to do it - this is true for both the House and Senate - it requires a two-thirds vote in both chambers. So it would require some Republican cooperation. But they can absolutely expel these members if they decide they want to take a hard line and make it very clear that what we've seen in the last few weeks falls outside the boundaries of acceptable behavior in our democracy. They can expel these members. There's nothing stopping them from doing that.

GROSS: House Democrats are now thinking about legislation that will put limits on the president's pardon powers, mandate the release of a president's tax returns, give new enforcement powers to independent agencies and Congress and more prohibitions against financial conflicts of interest in the White House. What do you think the odds are that legislation like that would pass?

JENTLESON: I think they're pretty good. You know, these are very narrow majorities we're looking at in both the House and Senate. So you know, a stiff wind in either direction could determine the fate of that legislation. And in the Senate, as we've mentioned here, you'll need 60 votes to pass things like that. So you would absolutely need some Republican cooperation. But I think that if restoring norms and reinforcing our guardrails are a priority that Republicans share, I think these are the sorts of nonpartisan, systemic reforms that are required. So I think there's a decent chance that they'll pass.

GROSS: Do you think that there's a chance that, having seen the consequences of extreme rhetoric and extreme views, that the partisan rhetoric, the polarizing will be toned down?

JENTLESON: I'd really love to say yes. But I have trouble looking at the events of the last four to five years and being confident in saying yes. I think that the pattern we've seen from the day that Trump entered the Republican primary in 2016 is outrage after outrage, which is immediately followed by words of condemnation from elected officials, but then more importantly, is followed by acquiescence among all Republicans in the party. And I think that is the problem that we face. And I'm not sure what evidence there is that that pattern is going to change right now.

GROSS: Let's get to your book, "Kill Switch." So much of it is about the history of the filibuster and how it's become an obstructionist tool. So let's start with a basic refresher of how the filibuster works and how it can be used and has been used as an obstructionist tool.

JENTLESON: Sure. So in the modern Senate, the way the filibuster works is it's essentially silent but deadly. I think the common perception of what it looks like continues to be aligned with Jimmy Stewart in "Mr. Smith Goes To Washington" holding the Senate floor, giving a long-winded speech. Perhaps people think of famous senators like Huey Long or Strom Thurmond.

But in the modern Senate, the filibuster looks nothing like that. And actually, speaking is not even required. All you have to do when a bill comes to the floor is have a member of your staff send an email to what's called the cloakroom, which is sort of the nerve center of action on the floor, saying that your member, your - the senator you work for, has an objection to this bill. That single email could be a phone call, could be a conversation in the hallway. That single objection raises the threshold from passing a bill from the simple majority, where technically the rules still have the threshold today, to a supermajority of what is now 60 votes.

And that is a filibuster. There's no speaking required. No one has to take the floor. No one has to explain themselves. If a senator raises this objection and increases the threshold from a majority to a supermajority, they never actually have to explain themselves at any point. They just do it. And it's become accepted. And that is why it's become normalized that most bills in the Senate require 60 votes to pass.

But I just want to emphasize that this is not actually a matter of the rules themselves because the rules still state that a simple majority is what's required to pass. This is a matter of a procedural hurdle that's come to be developed over the last few decades and become routinized. The reason bills need 60 votes to pass is that they can't clear that procedural hurdle to get to the final vote. And that is the problem that is paralyzing the Senate today.

GROSS: Why can just one person hold it up?

JENTLESON: Well, the Senate is designed to give an enormous amount of deference to every individual senator. This is - seems a bit outdated right now because so much power has become invested in the partisan leaders of each party. This is something the book discusses as well, how that has developed. This is also a function of the last few decades. But originally, the Senate was supposed to be a small, intimate chamber where every single senator had as much power as the next. And so what we're seeing today is sort of a residue of the fact that each individual senator is supposed to have the power to hold up a bill if they choose to.

GROSS: So if one senator objects, it's basically understood to be a silent filibuster, kicking in the requirement for a three-fifths majority.

JENTLESON: That's exactly right. You know, they can go to the floor and give a speech if they want to. And sometimes they do, you know, to be performative or to try to drive a message. But they don't have to. And I think, you know, we can count on our fingers the number of times we've seen a speech like that happen in the last few years. And yet every single bill that has come to the floor in the Senate, more or less, has had this filibuster applied to it. So, you know, it is a silent filibuster in most cases that instantaneously, with that one objection, raises the threshold to a three-fifths supermajority.

GROSS: So in addition to blocking legislation, what else can the filibuster block?

JENTLESON: It can take up time is what it can do. Every single time the filibuster applies, you're adding about a week of floor time on to the calendar. And when you stack filibusters up one against another with the hundreds of bills that come to the floor in any given session of Congress, that creates an enormous drag. And I think that is a huge reason why we see such gridlock in Washington today. When it becomes routinized that every single bill that comes to the floor must take a week or more just to try to work through these procedural hurdles, it clogs the gears of government to a massive extent.

The filibuster used to be able to block nominations, but Senator Reid in 2013 changed the rules to lower the threshold permanently to a simple majority. When he made his change in 2013, the one category of nominations that it did not apply to was the Supreme Court. But then Senator McConnell changed the rule to lower the threshold for Supreme Court justices in 2017, when the nomination of Neil Gorsuch was before the Senate.

GROSS: So when Republicans were in power, they made it easier for them to confirm their nominees...

JENTLESON: That's right.

GROSS: ...After blocking Merrick Garland.

JENTLESON: That's right. That's right.

GROSS: So give us an example of how you saw the filibuster used during the Obama administration, when you were working for Harry Reid and he was the majority leader.

JENTLESON: So the example that sticks with me is the use of the filibuster to block a bipartisan background checks legislation after the massacre of first-graders in Newtown, Conn. And I still think I have not gotten over this episode. It was just so, so profoundly misaligned with how we think our government is supposed to operate. But it is a good example for showcasing how absurd things have gotten.

So in this case, you had two senators who could not have been more different - Joe Manchin of West Virginia, sort of a rough-edged populist, and Pat Toomey of Pennsylvania, more of a sort of country club, Chamber of Commerce Republican - who came together in exactly the way the process is supposed to work. They formed a bipartisan bill to increase the use of background checks to gun purchases. This was a very reasonable step - some might argue not even enough - to take in response to the murder of 20 first-graders with an AR-15 assault rifle, but it seemed to be the least we could do.

They secured the support of a healthy majority of United States senators, from Republicans and Democrats; about 55 senators who supported it. They secured the support of lots of different interest groups and expert organizations from across the political spectrum. They had gun rights groups, and they had gun control groups behind the bill. And they secured a massive amount of public support. Polling at the time showed this legislation pulling in the 80- to 90% range. So, you know, everything to this point is going the way the process is supposed to work. Senators coming together, crafting a reasonable piece of legislation to a clear problem and bringing it to the floor.

And then this is where it goes off the rails. Somewhere during the debate, a single senator raised an objection, thus increasing the threshold for passage from a majority to a supermajority. And despite all of the support they had behind this bill and despite the clear need for this action, this bill failed. And during the week of debate that this bill was on the floor, almost none of the senators who opposed it had to come to the floor and explain themselves.

Mitch McConnell was the minority leader at the time. Democrats were in the majority. And over the entire week that this bill was on the floor, McConnell spent a total of about two minutes talking about it at all. He spent more time on the floor giving a tribute to Margaret Thatcher and celebrating the wins of the Louisville men's basketball team in the March Madness tournament that year.

So this is an example not just of how the filibuster blocks common-sense legislation from passing the Senate, but also the way in which it's become totally disconnected from the idea of debate, the idea that senators should be out on the floor discussing thoughtful approaches to legislation out in public. There was no debate. The bill was simply blocked. And the United States government went on record with no policy solution whatsoever to the murder of first-graders in Newtown, Conn.

GROSS: Let me reintroduce you. If you're just joining us, my guest is Adam Jentleson, author of the new book "Kill Switch: The Rise Of The Modern Senate And The Crippling Of American Democracy." Jentleson worked as Senator Harry Reid's deputy chief of staff when Reid was the Democratic leader in the Senate. We'll be right back. This is FRESH AIR.

(SOUNDBITE OF WES MONTGOMERY'S "FOUR ON SIX")

GROSS: This is FRESH AIR. Let's get back to the interview I recorded yesterday with Adam Jentleson, author of the new book "Kill Switch: The Rise Of The Modern Senate And The Crippling Of American Democracy." It's about how the Senate became as polarized as it is today and how the filibuster became a tool enabling the minority to systematically block the majority. He writes about the filibuster's roots in Southern senators upholding slavery and later in blocking civil rights legislation. The filibuster was not part of the Founding Fathers' plan. They wanted simple majorities to pass legislation. How was the filibuster initiated and why?

JENTLESON: Slowly, over the course of time, but primarily to serve the interests of slave states and try to preserve slavery against the march of progress and a growing majority of both states and Americans who wanted to abolish slavery. The filibuster did not exist in name or practice until about the middle of the 19th century. So this was well after all of the Founding Fathers had passed away. James Madison was one of the longest lived and an ardent opponent of the filibuster to the extent that it sort of was coming into existence in the 1830s. And he passed away in the early 1830s.

So the progenitor of the filibuster, its main innovator, was John C. Calhoun, the great nullifier, the leader, father of the Confederacy. And Calhoun innovated the filibuster for the specific purpose of empowering the planter class. He was a senator from South Carolina. His main patrons were the powerful planters. And he was seeking to create a regional constituency to empower himself against the march of progress and against - what was becoming clear was a superior economic model in the North. So Calhoun started to innovate forms of obstruction that came to be known as the filibuster.

GROSS: So you describe John Calhoun as, like, basically, the father of the filibuster. Let's be clear who he was. I mean, he not only wanted to protect slave owners, he argued that slavery created racial harmony and improved the lives of slaves. You quote him in the book. He said, never before has the Black race of Central Africa, from the dawn of history to the present day, attained a condition so civilized and improved, not only physically, but morally and intellectually. Amazing that he could justify that slavery was improving the lives of enslaved people.

JENTLESON: That's right. And it's important to note at this time, you know - not to give people of that era too much credit for being enlightened. But, you know, there was a shift in public opinion going on regarding slavery in the United States. The abolitionist movement was beginning to gain traction. And, you know, while folks weren't exactly at the enlightened state of believing in full equality, they recognized that slavery had - was, at best, a necessary evil, emphasis on the evil.

And so Calhoun took it upon himself to argue that there was nothing evil about it. In that same speech that you quoted, he went on to explain that slavery was not a necessary evil, but, quote, "a positive good." He was such an ardent defender and such a vehement racist that he couldn't even accept the sort of antebellum acknowledgement that there were parts of the institution that were evil. So it was very clear what his motivations were. He wanted to preserve slavery. And the filibuster was what he deployed to achieve that goal.

GROSS: Let's take a break here, and then we'll talk some more. If you're just joining us, my guest is Adam Jentleson, author of the new book "Kill Switch: The Rise Of The Modern Senate And The Crippling Of American Democracy." He worked on Harry Reid's staff from 2010 to 2017, first as communications director, then his deputy chief of staff. We'll be right back after we take a short break. I'm Terry Gross. And this is FRESH AIR.

(SOUNDBITE OF BOOKER ERVIN'S "THE BLUE BOOK")

GROSS: This is FRESH AIR. I'm Terry Gross. Let's get back to my interview with Adam Jentleson, author of the new book "Kill Switch: The Rise Of The Modern Senate And The Crippling Of American Democracy." It's about how the Senate became the polarized institution it is today and how the filibuster became a tool of the minority to systematically block the majority in the Senate. Jentleson worked as the deputy chief of staff for Democratic Senator Harry Reid when Reid was the Democratic leader in the Senate. We recorded our interview yesterday.

So we've established that needing a supermajority to pass legislation was not what the founders wanted. They wanted simple majorities. You've talked about how the filibuster was initiated in the mid-19th century and the ways it was used to enable slave owners and to keep the institution of slavery. But you write that the only time the filibuster was used during Jim Crow with any consistency was to block any form of civil rights legislation and that this happened through the 1960s.

So give us an example of that - like, of the systematic use of the filibuster to block civil rights legislation.

JENTLESON: So what Southern senators faced starting in the 1920s was majority support for civil rights bills. These were rudimentary civil rights bills. These were anti-lynching bills and anti-poll tax bills, but they were civil rights bills nonetheless. These bills started passing the House with big majorities. They had presidents of both parties in the White House ready to sign them, and they actually had enormous public support. Gallup polled the public on anti-lynching bills in 1937 and found 70% of Americans supporting federal anti-lynching laws. And they polled anti-poll tax laws in the 1940s and found 60% support. So Southern senators started to block these bills in the name of minority rights, deploying the supermajority threshold and talking about it as a vaunted, lofty defense of minority rights, just as John Calhoun had done in his time.

This continued to be the case against every single civil rights bill that came before Congress from the time that Reconstruction ended all the way up until 1964, when President Lyndon Johnson finally was able to rally a supermajority of senators of both parties together to break a Southern filibuster against civil rights. But from the 87 years between when Reconstruction ended until 1964, the only category of legislation against which the filibuster was deployed to actively stop bills in their tracks was civil rights legislation.

GROSS: So the senator who was blocking the civil rights bill and leading the filibuster was Senator Richard Russell of Georgia. He had been LBJ's mentor, but LBJ had become more progressive in his views and turned against Russell and defeated Russell's filibuster. Richard Russell, that Southern senator who led the filibuster against the civil rights bill, that is the Russell that the Russell Office Building, where many senators have their office, is named after. I'm wondering if there's any kind of movement to change the name of that building.

JENTLESON: I wish there was. There have been murmurings, but so far, not a real organized movement. And I just want to underscore how disturbing this is. And I think it points to the sort of self-mythologizing that the Senate tends to engage in. Richard Russell was, in his time, by far the most powerful senator of either party. He was never a formal leader of either party, but he wielded more power than the leaders of either party. But he was an avowed white supremacist. And I'm - this was not subtext. This was clear statements that he himself made. At one point, he declared that any Southern white man worth a pinch of salt would give his all to defend white supremacy.

And as you mentioned, Russell was the leading filibuster of civil rights bills. He came to the Senate in the 1930s and led more filibusters than any other senator against civil rights in those 30 years. Today, thousands of Senate staffers go to work every day in a building named after this avowed white supremacist. When Senator John McCain passed away, there was a brief movement to rename the building after him that was quashed by Mitch McConnell. Today, there are murmurings of trying to change the name, but so far, no organized movement.

GROSS: So you say McConnell did not want the Russell Building named after John McCain. Why not? And how did he block that?

JENTLESON: So this is interesting and something I get into in the book. There was actually a decades-long rivalry between Senator McCain and Senator McConnell that revolved around McCain's advocacy for campaign finance reform and his passage of the famous McCain-Feingold campaign finance reform act. McConnell was the Senate's leading opponent of campaign finance reform. He was the leading advocate for loosening restrictions and getting more money into politics. This is actually sort of how he made his bones when he first got to the Senate. He learned to filibuster in the 1980s by blocking campaign finance reform efforts.

And so there was one episode in the '90s where McConnell was so angry at McCain for his advocacy for campaign finance reform, where he led an unprecedented three-hour verbal assault against Senator McCain on the Senate floor. It was really something to behold. So they were not exactly the best of friends. I can't say definitively that that contributed. But, you know, McCain was a maverick, and he ended his career by defying McConnell and refusing to vote for Republicans' effort to repeal Obamacare. McCain cast the decisive vote that defeated that effort. It was a dramatic moment on the floor. He came to the floor, looked McConnell straight in the face and turned his thumb down, signaling a no vote, and walked away.

So they were not - this - and that was just a few weeks before McCain passed away. So suffice to say, they had never been the closest of friends, and they were certainly not on great terms when Senator McCain passed. I can't say definitively that that's the reason. But when there started to be an effort and a movement to rename the Russell Building after McCain, McConnell quickly let it known that it would never see the light of day in the Senate that he controlled, once again deploying the power of the majority leader to make clear that this bill would never come to the floor.

GROSS: Let me reintroduce you here. If you're just joining us, my guest is Adam Jentleson, author of the new book "Kill Switch: The Rise Of The Modern Senate And The Crippling Of American Democracy." We'll be right back. This is FRESH AIR.

(SOUNDBITE OF HOLT VAUGHN'S "BITTER SUITE (FEAT. PHIL KEAGGY)")

Who is the innovator of making that supermajority routine, enabling the minority to block any legislation it wants to?

JENTLESON: More than any other single senator, Mitch McConnell is responsible for the overuse of the filibuster. This is simply a fact. It was - it came into frequent use. And I don't want to downplay the role the Democrats played here. From the 1970s through the 1980s and into the 2000s, leaders of both parties began to use it more frequently. Senator Harry Reid, my former boss, used it under President George W. Bush a good deal.

But when Mitch McConnell became leader - the first minority leader in 2007, he began using the filibuster at a rate that had never been seen before in the Senate. And his key innovation was to use it not just with the intent of making it harder to pass individual bills but of deploying it as a weapon of mass obstruction against every single thing that moved in the Senate, which had the net effect of grinding the gears of the Senate to a halt and creating what appeared to any casual observer to be a completely gridlocked Washington.

GROSS: The Senate is now going to be split 50-50, with Kamala Harris as vice president having the ability to break the tie if there is a tie. So it's not enough to pass the threshold of filibuster and cloture. So what does this narrow margin get the Democrats in the Senate?

JENTLESON: Well, a majority, even the slimmest majority possible, gives you a ton of power in the Senate. It puts you in control of all the committees. It doesn't matter if your majority is one seat or even hinging on the vice presidency or if it's 10 seats. You have control of all of the committees.

It also makes Chuck Schumer the majority leader and Mitch McConnell the minority leader, and that means that Schumer, not McConnell, can determine what bills come to the floor. That is a huge difference. We saw how important this is just last month with the fight over direct payment checks, where the bill that passed the House was denied a vote because Mitch McConnell simply refused to bring it up for a vote in the Senate. So even having the ability to determine what bills come to the floor can be very important in the Senate. It means that whether they pass or fail, all or most of President Biden's major legislative agenda items will get a vote in the Senate.

GROSS: Are we about to see a strategic war between Mitch McConnell and Chuck Schumer?

JENTLESON: I think we are. And I think that what happens is going to have massive and very important ramifications not just for the Senate as an institution but for the everyday lives of American people. My personal view is the inevitable outcome of this war is going to be some kind of Senate reform that lowers the threshold from 60 votes to somewhere closer to a majority. I would prefer that it go all the way to a majority, but we'll see what happens.

I think that the simple fact of the matter is that even if President Biden tries to secure bipartisan cooperation with Republicans, it's simply not going to be forthcoming to the extent that he needs it to be. And that is going to force the question of whether Democrats simply want to give up on their agenda or reform the Senate so that they can pass bills on a majority basis.

GROSS: Every Senate has the right to make its own rules. But what does it take to pass those rules? Do you need a supermajority?

JENTLESON: You need a simple - you only need a simple majority to change the rules. This has evolved as a precedent starting in the 1970s but has really been set in concrete first by Reid when he deployed the nuclear option to change the rules in 2013 and then was affirmed by McConnell when he used a simple majority to change the rules in 2017 to confirm Justice Gorsuch. So that means that while reform is complicated, it only takes 51 votes to do it. And I think Democrats might find themselves quickly facing the choice of reforming the rules or getting nothing done.

GROSS: What's held the rules back from being reformed in the past is that when Democrats are in the majority and they have a chance to reform the rules - and ditto for Republicans. When they're in the majority and have the chance to reform their rules, they're afraid of how it will be used against them the next time they're in the minority.

JENTLESON: Yes, and that's a legitimate fear. And I don't want to downplay it. But the simple fact of the matter is that the ability of the minority to block the majority from taking action benefits conservatives far more than it benefits liberals. I think this has misaligned sort of the gyroscope of American politics. I think our system works well when progressive politicians pass legislation that helps improve people's lives, that expands the social safety net and that fixes some of the fundamental imbalances of our democracy. And then, you know, if Republicans take back power, they can trim away at those excesses - maybe, you know, cut spending, et cetera, et cetera.

What we have now is a system where nothing gets done. We have major crises that we are facing from climate change to income inequality to democracy reform. And the supermajority threshold simply allows a minority of conservatives to block anything from getting done, and I think that's an unsustainable dynamic for a democracy.

GROSS: You've written that you think whatever Biden accomplishes is basically going to have to be through executive action. Do you think that's true even if the threshold to override a filibuster is lowered from three-fifths to something else?

JENTLESON: I think lowering the threshold opens up a world of possibilities. I think that it's still going to be difficult. You know, getting to 50, 51 votes requires securing the votes of Democratic senators like Joe Manchin of West Virginia, Kyrsten Sinema of Arizona, who tend to be pretty conservative. But this was Madison's whole point. This is why he set the threshold at a majority. It's hard to secure majorities for legislation in the House and the Senate and get a president to sign them. It's a big challenge. It doesn't lead to untrammeled majority rule, but it does lead to things getting done. And I think the Senate will be better off as an institution, and America in general will be better off if the Senate can once again pass thoughtful policy solutions to the challenges America faces.

GROSS: Let me reintroduce you. If you're just joining us, my guest is Adam Jentleson, author of the new book "Kill Switch: The Rise Of The Modern Senate And The Crippling Of American Democracy." We'll be right back after a break. This is FRESH AIR.

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GROSS: This is FRESH AIR. Let's get back to the interview I recorded yesterday with Adam Jentleson, author of the new book "Kill Switch: The Rise Of The Modern Senate And The Crippling Of American Democracy." It's about how the Senate became as polarized as it is today and how the filibuster became a tool enabling the minority to systematically block the majority. Jentleson worked for Harry Reid when Harry Reid was the Democratic leader of the Senate. And the positions he held with Harry Reid were communications director and deputy chief of staff.

What reforms would you like to see in the Senate to make it less polarized and to end some of the gridlock?

JENTLESON: I think reforms need to be very clear-eyed about the larger context in which the Senate is operating. We're not going to fix our polarized country with Senate reform. We're not going to fix forces of negative partisanship. What we have to do is be very focused on restoring the Senate's fundamental purpose, which is not the filibuster. It is not any of the rules that have cropped up over the last 200 years. The Senate's fundamental purpose is to produce thoughtful policy solutions to the challenges America faces today. I think that begins with restoring the ability of bills to pass on a majority threshold. And I think all other reforms stem from there.

You have to make it possible to pass things again, period. I hope and believe that once the gears start turning, this will facilitate bipartisanship. One thing that's interesting is that, for all of the decades when the Senate operated as a majority rule body, there was plenty of bipartisanship. The other side might fight as hard as it could to stop a piece of legislation. But once it became clear that the legislation had the votes it needed to pass, you would often see the side that opposed it jump on board and start participating in the process. And that's what's healthy about it. We need to see bills moving.

Hopefully, that will produce bipartisanship. Hopefully, Senate Republicans will decide that working with Democrats is better than simply sitting on the sidelines. But even if they don't, we will actually be passing bills again. And I think that is a healthy thing for America, especially given the scope of the challenges that we face right now.

GROSS: You're a Democrat. And you're saying that now that Democrats will be in power in the Senate. Would you be saying that if Mitch McConnell was the majority leader?

JENTLESON: Well, I would. And I can say that because I started writing this book when Mitch McConnell was the majority leader. And so I think that there's no question that Republicans will use this power when they regain the Senate majority. But I think that, on balance, progressives and liberals benefit far more than conservatives by the ability to pass legislation. This is - stems from the fundamental fact that conservatives are the party that wants to stop things. They're the party, in William F. Buckley's famous phrase, that stands athwart history, yelling, stop.

They achieve much of what they want to achieve by stopping things. They can roll back regulation without passing bills on the floor. They can do this through executive actions and other means. Fundamentally, the way that progressives advance their agenda is by passing big legislation. None of the other tools available to them, whether it's executive actions or anything of that nature, come anywhere close to the scope and power of passing legislation. It's simply necessary for our government to function to be able to pass legislation. I would also note that most of the damage that Trump did during his time in power - for the first two years of his administration, Republicans had a trifecta control in Washington. They controlled the White House, House and Senate.

They sought to repeal Obamacare on a simple majority vote. They used an end run around the filibuster to do this. They were unable to secure a majority vote to repeal Obamacare. It is much harder to pass things, even at a majority threshold, than people generally assume. I think you simply have to restore the Senate's power to pass things. You can hope that bipartisanship stems from that. I certainly hope that it will. But we simply need to have a functioning Senate and a functioning federal government that can meet the challenges we face with thoughtful solutions again.

GROSS: So Joe Biden was a senator for years before becoming vice president. Mitch McConnell has been in the Senate a long time. How did they get along before the Obama presidency, before Biden became vice president?

JENTLESON: I would describe their relationship as professional, but not much more than that. I mean, Senator McConnell is sort of a business-only type senator. He doesn't have a lot of friends even within his own conference. I'm not saying that to be mean. It's simply a statement of fact. And so they had a cordial, businesslike and professional relationship. But I wouldn't describe it as particularly warm beyond that.

GROSS: One of the things that President Trump was able to do is roll back a lot of regulations, including in the Environmental Protection Agency, through executive action. When Biden becomes president, can he reinstate regulations through executive action? Or can you only roll them back through executive action?

JENTLESON: He can reinstate some of them. There are important things you can do through executive action on environmental regulations. You can also roll back the rollbacks in a lot of cases. So I think it's fair to say that he can do enough to sort of get you back to even, you know, back to about where we were before President Trump. And then there are some things he can do to go a little bit further. I know that student loan debt forgiveness is a big topic of conversation. That's one example on that. There are things he can do on the environment and climate front. But the simple matter is that there's no substitute for passing legislation. It is simply the most powerful tool the federal government has. And if you are unable to use that tool, then President Biden is going to leave office with most of his agenda unfulfilled.

And then there are structural reforms, things like D.C. statehood, that I think are essential - automatic voter registration, restoring many of the imbalances that have led to the chaos and feeling of unrepresentation (ph) that have really crippled our democracy recently. Things like D.C. statehood, civil rights reforms, automatic voter registration - these can only be done by passing legislation. So it is really essential that this tool be restored.

GROSS: If Washington, D.C. became a state, it would have two senators representing it in Congress. That has the potential of being somewhat of a game changer. What would it take for D.C. to get recognized as a state?

JENTLESON: Well, I think it will pass the House. And so it's simply a matter of securing 51 votes in the Senate if the Senate chooses to lower the threshold. It will never get 60 votes. I think that's simply a fantasy. So to make D.C. a state, you're going to have to reform the filibuster and lower the threshold to a simple majority. And let's be clear - D.C. deserves to be a state. It's made clear it wants to be a state. I think with the - its inability to quickly send in the National Guard last week to meet the violence, we've seen many of the reasons why this district deserves to be a state and have the power that comes with that.

It would be the same size as Wyoming and about the same size as several other states. It simply deserves that power. This goes back to the basic principle of taxation without representation, right? It is governed by federal laws, and it deserves the right and the representation to help shape those laws.

GROSS: What power would D.C. have had that it didn't have during the insurrection?

JENTLESON: Governors are able to call up the National Guard, and D.C.'s mayor was unable to do that. It had to rely on Maryland and Virginia to send help. And I think that the response could have been quicker if D.C. had been a state and had more power over self-government.

GROSS: Finally, President Trump will be out of office in days. No matter what route he takes to leave office, certainly by Inauguration Day, he will leave office. How much Trumpism do you think will be left in the Republican Party when Trump is no longer president?

JENTLESON: I have a pretty bearish view on this. I unfortunately think that Trumpism is here to stay and reflects the modern Republican Party. I think that Republican voters have stuck with Trump north of 80, 90% through all the outrages of the past four years. I think that barring some major action to expel his enablers from this party, to expel those who enabled the violence in the Capitol last week, a clear demonstration that these types of people are not welcome in their party - unfortunately, I think we're going to see the Republican Party continue to move in a Trumpist direction.

GROSS: Adam Jentleson, I want to thank you so much for talking with us today. I really learned a lot from your book.

JENTLESON: It was so great to be here, Terry. Thank you.

GROSS: Adam Jentleson is the author of the new book "Kill Switch: The Rise Of the Modern Senate And The Crippling Of American Democracy." We recorded our interview yesterday morning.

Tomorrow on FRESH AIR, historian Kerri Greenidge, author of "Black Radical," will tell the story of William Morris (ph) Trotter, an African American newspaper editor who led mass protests for civil rights in the 20th century. Trotter gained a national following and challenged leaders like Booker T. Washington, who took a more cautious approach to Black empowerment. I hope you'll join us.

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GROSS: FRESH AIR's executive producer is Danny Miller. Our senior producer today is Roberta Shorrock. Our technical director and engineer is Audrey Bentham. Our interviews and reviews are produced and edited by Amy Salit, Phyllis Myers, Sam Briger, Lauren Krenzel, Heidi Saman, Therese Madden, Ann Marie Baldonado, Thea Chaloner, and Kayla Lattimore. Our associate producer of digital media is Molly Seavy-Nesper. Seth Kelley directed today's show. I'm Terry Gross.

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