#that larry is not supported by facts????

[thetriangletattoo]

.

[aforgottenthing-in-space]

Ok so. Miles Edgeworth is trans. Gregory was definitely a trans affirming father so when Miles told him he was like “sure son. What name do you want to go by?”

And so all Manfred von Karma knew was that Gregory Edgeworth had a son. When he gains custody of Miles, he just. Does not realize that the kid he’s now in charge of is a trans boy. (Maybe Miles already had a name change. Idk. Somehow legal name wise, von Karma just. Does Not realize.)

So Miles grows up being raised as a boy and von Karma just. Doesn’t realize. Until puberty begins.

And he notices something, that Miles isn’t experiencing puberty the way he would have expected and he’s like hmmm. I am not sure what is happening.

And then like preteen Miles, incredibly nervous, comes to him and he’s like, “excuse me, Mr. von Karma, sir, but would I be able to start puberty blockers please?”

And von Karma’s just like “WHAT!”

He’s so caught off guard and so used to thinking of Miles as “Gregory Edgeworth’s pathetic son” that he just… kinda lets Miles medically transition bc he’s so caught off guard by the realization.

And for his entire life, Miles is like. Unable to wrap his head around von Karma being surprisingly trans accepting???

[releaseholiday]

wdym about the tags on the poll?

Wellll

[oksfranta]

.

[milf-louis]

,

[shitapril]

very often see posts about how the one direction fans grew up to be formula one fans, and the more I think of it, the more it makes sense. putting aside the fact that almost all my f1 friends were 1d fans (were ? are lol), it makes sense that a fandom who's fuel was hyperfixating on boys living out their dreams shifted from one form of it to another.

tha being said, it got me thinking - how do the girlies translate to f1 ? and by girlies i mean what your kpop fan would call a "bias". for example, if i was a niall girl - who's my favourite now ?

so here's a silly little non-sensical analysis and comparison that should not be taken seriously at all :

firstly, the zayn malik girlies are definitely lewis hamilton girlies. both zayn and lewis come from humble backgrounds, were subject to vile, inhumane racial discrimination and hate - all while being arguably the most talented in their respective fields (I mean, you've heard zayn's high note in you & I, and seen lewis' 7 world championships). they're hardworking, pet-loving, very fashionable men who stay out of unnecessary spotlight for the most part, and step out once in a while to remind the world they're drop-dead gorgeous. the zayn girls are safe with lewis.

next comes liam payne - and here on you'll have to hear me out with my comparison of every racer and bandmate. liam and george russell are both aggressively british, unapologetically goofy and true to themselves (and i'm talking about liam in 1d not the one on logan paul's podcast). they're both very talented, highly regarded in their boss' eyes (toto wolff and simon cowell - this post is going to be interesting wow) and still somehow not an immediate fan favourite. this comparison also goes wonderfully well with the whole ziam and britcedes parallels.

thirdly, louis tomlinson. easy peasy. max verstappen. both incredibly blunt, dry humour, pr nightmares, do not give two single hecks. people either love them, or hate them - no in between. both incredibly talented individuals (louis wrote majority of 1d's discography, max has 3 world championships under his belt) and yet are discredited ("louis is only famous cuz of his bandmates and the band itself" and "max just had a good car"). the zayn and louis fued also parallels abu dhabi 2021 quite well aye ? (i'm going insane)

harry styles, no debate. charles leclerc - regarded as the pretty boys (the prettiest, their fans would insist i'm sure) and the most popular, the well-liked. both extremely talented without a doubt, but a little bit overrated, and victimised to glorify and support fan narratives. i know i sound like a hater - forgive me, not my intention. i like them both as individuals - their fans on the other hand (and no, not all, i know) are so blind-sided, so insane and cause so much unpleasantness on the internet. almost ironic, how the most amicable ones have the least liked fans lol. that aside though, if you were a harry girl, chances are you went from one fan-favourite to the other. i also just realised - this supports the larry and lestappen narratives - am i genuinely, honestly onto something here ? (i absolutely am not)

lastly, niall horan. now this one i'm sure will divide you all, but here you go anyway. lando norris. both babied immensely by their fans and bandmates/teammates alike - churchboy persona. the moment they shed the insecurity, suddenly bam everyone hates them (niall's mofo t-shirts, lando's frat boy tendencies, and saying things that the internet will not find funny), promising at a young age, yet somehow grew up to be called overrated. their fans are stubbornly loyal to them, defending them through all their rights, and wrongs. it makes sense to me. one smiley boy to another.

this probably makes no sense - but feel free to add your own comparisons, theories, and notes ! there's 5 of them and 20 on the grid, obviosuly disparity for me to go on and on and on about (for example, I see a little zayn girls to carlos girls pipeline, louis to fernando - oldest boy syndrome and all that) so let me know ! let's yap :)

[kingarthurtournament]

⚔️The Final Battle⚔️

Sonic The Hedgehog

The most submitted character of the Google Form

Vanquisher of Roland Deschain, Excalibur Soul Eater, Larry the cat, the Lettuce which outlasted Liz Truss and the King Arthur Baking Company

"Sonic gets sucked into Camelot and wields the talking sword Caliburn. He kills King Arthur, who is revealed to be a fake created by Merlin. In the final battle, Caliburn transforms into Excalibur; afterward, Caliburn explains that the fact that Sonic is his wielder means Sonic is the true King Arthur."

"As a known supporter of trans rights, openly ACAB and constantly making people aware of bisexuality, I think Sonic would be exactly the king that England needs right now"

The little swedish girl who found a 1,000 year old sword

A contestant who almost did not make it to the tournament because of the 'no real person' rule (but boy am I glad she did)

Vanquisher of Sailor Venus, Zagreus, King The Howl House, Aragorn, BBC Arthur and Larry the cat

"she found a 1500 year old previking sword in a lake in sweden and was unofficially called the queen of sweden bc of it"

[louisisalarrie]

helloooo sweet angels. welcome to the show!

I tend to answer and talk about a lot of bbg/2015 things on here and seem to attract a lot of newer fans & Larries (which is wonderful!!!) but I thought I’d just share some resources that you can refer to so there’s not so much back and forth in my inbox.

Arden (cosmicleeds) makes fantastic, super digestible videos recapping years, bbg, rbb & sbb and the big gay war etc., and I think it’s a really valuable way to kind of get your head around some stuff as socials, especially Twitter, have a lot of misinformation, fighting, wrong timelines, stuff that’s already been debunked etc.

so, here are a couple of faves that I recommend newer larries, or people who want refreshers, to watch as it’s a little less overwhelming than the 15k word essays we have on these topics that are hard to read about when you haven’t kind of been introduced to it initially

The Larry Stylinson Timeline - 2015

Larry denials and why they’re meaningless

RBB, SBB, & the Big Gay War

The difference between larry and the rest of 1D

there is a video on each year of Larry since 2010 too, so you can feel like you were there for it!

as always, I also highly recommend Allie’s (skepticalarrie) tags post if you want more of a read instead of a video, with so many masterposts and specific info on everything larry, and also louis and Harry individually

if you’re looking for fic recs or general larry/1d chats and a heap of receipts, Gina (twopoppies) is also very wonderful

and obviously there are a million other fantastic blogs and videos to watch, but I highly recommend those to start off with at least as they are based off facts and are very clear, as opposed to some wild reaching that goes on these days in certain parts of twitter etc.

we’re all here to be welcoming, have a chat, and be here for you to navigate this wild part of the fandom, and while there can be some nasty folks out there, remember that this is a welcoming place where we love love and we are a community who supports each other. the way it should be.

so, welcome baby larries, you’re in for a wild ride!

(also I’m very excited for this year’s recap - I want something crazy to go down the end of this year because damn rewatching 2015 took me right back to the days!)

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The real AI fight

Tonight (November 27), I'm appearing at the Toronto Metro Reference Library with Facebook whistleblower Frances Haugen.

On November 29, I'm at NYC's Strand Books with my novel The Lost Cause, a solarpunk tale of hope and danger that Rebecca Solnit called "completely delightful."

Last week's spectacular OpenAI soap-opera hijacked the attention of millions of normal, productive people and nonsensually crammed them full of the fine details of the debate between "Effective Altruism" (doomers) and "Effective Accelerationism" (AKA e/acc), a genuinely absurd debate that was allegedly at the center of the drama.

Very broadly speaking: the Effective Altruists are doomers, who believe that Large Language Models (AKA "spicy autocomplete") will someday become so advanced that it could wake up and annihilate or enslave the human race. To prevent this, we need to employ "AI Safety" – measures that will turn superintelligence into a servant or a partner, nor an adversary.

Contrast this with the Effective Accelerationists, who also believe that LLMs will someday become superintelligences with the potential to annihilate or enslave humanity – but they nevertheless advocate for faster AI development, with fewer "safety" measures, in order to produce an "upward spiral" in the "techno-capital machine."

Once-and-future OpenAI CEO Altman is said to be an accelerationists who was forced out of the company by the Altruists, who were subsequently bested, ousted, and replaced by Larry fucking Summers. This, we're told, is the ideological battle over AI: should cautiously progress our LLMs into superintelligences with safety in mind, or go full speed ahead and trust to market forces to tame and harness the superintelligences to come?

This "AI debate" is pretty stupid, proceeding as it does from the foregone conclusion that adding compute power and data to the next-word-predictor program will eventually create a conscious being, which will then inevitably become a superbeing. This is a proposition akin to the idea that if we keep breeding faster and faster horses, we'll get a locomotive:

https://locusmag.com/2020/07/cory-doctorow-full-employment/

As Molly White writes, this isn't much of a debate. The "two sides" of this debate are as similar as Tweedledee and Tweedledum. Yes, they're arrayed against each other in battle, so furious with each other that they're tearing their hair out. But for people who don't take any of this mystical nonsense about spontaneous consciousness arising from applied statistics seriously, these two sides are nearly indistinguishable, sharing as they do this extremely weird belief. The fact that they've split into warring factions on its particulars is less important than their unified belief in the certain coming of the paperclip-maximizing apocalypse:

https://newsletter.mollywhite.net/p/effective-obfuscation

White points out that there's another, much more distinct side in this AI debate – as different and distant from Dee and Dum as a Beamish Boy and a Jabberwork. This is the side of AI Ethics – the side that worries about "today’s issues of ghost labor, algorithmic bias, and erosion of the rights of artists and others." As White says, shifting the debate to existential risk from a future, hypothetical superintelligence "is incredibly convenient for the powerful individuals and companies who stand to profit from AI."

After all, both sides plan to make money selling AI tools to corporations, whose track record in deploying algorithmic "decision support" systems and other AI-based automation is pretty poor – like the claims-evaluation engine that Cigna uses to deny insurance claims:

https://www.propublica.org/article/cigna-pxdx-medical-health-insurance-rejection-claims

On a graph that plots the various positions on AI, the two groups of weirdos who disagree about how to create the inevitable superintelligence are effectively standing on the same spot, and the people who worry about the actual way that AI harms actual people right now are about a million miles away from that spot.

There's that old programmer joke, "There are 10 kinds of people, those who understand binary and those who don't." But of course, that joke could just as well be, "There are 10 kinds of people, those who understand ternary, those who understand binary, and those who don't understand either":

https://pluralistic.net/2021/12/11/the-ten-types-of-people/

What's more, the joke could be, "there are 10 kinds of people, those who understand hexadecenary, those who understand pentadecenary, those who understand tetradecenary [und so weiter] those who understand ternary, those who understand binary, and those who don't." That is to say, a "polarized" debate often has people who hold positions so far from the ones everyone is talking about that those belligerents' concerns are basically indistinguishable from one another.

The act of identifying these distant positions is a radical opening up of possibilities. Take the indigenous philosopher chief Red Jacket's response to the Christian missionaries who sought permission to proselytize to Red Jacket's people:

https://historymatters.gmu.edu/d/5790/

Red Jacket's whole rebuttal is a superb dunk, but it gets especially interesting where he points to the sectarian differences among Christians as evidence against the missionary's claim to having a single true faith, and in favor of the idea that his own people's traditional faith could be co-equal among Christian doctrines.

The split that White identifies isn't a split about whether AI tools can be useful. Plenty of us AI skeptics are happy to stipulate that there are good uses for AI. For example, I'm 100% in favor of the Human Rights Data Analysis Group using an LLM to classify and extract information from the Innocence Project New Orleans' wrongful conviction case files:

https://hrdag.org/tech-notes/large-language-models-IPNO.html

Automating "extracting officer information from documents – specifically, the officer's name and the role the officer played in the wrongful conviction" was a key step to freeing innocent people from prison, and an LLM allowed HRDAG – a tiny, cash-strapped, excellent nonprofit – to make a giant leap forward in a vital project. I'm a donor to HRDAG and you should donate to them too:

https://hrdag.networkforgood.com/

Good data-analysis is key to addressing many of our thorniest, most pressing problems. As Ben Goldacre recounts in his inaugural Oxford lecture, it is both possible and desirable to build ethical, privacy-preserving systems for analyzing the most sensitive personal data (NHS patient records) that yield scores of solid, ground-breaking medical and scientific insights:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_-eaV8SWdjQ

The difference between this kind of work – HRDAG's exoneration work and Goldacre's medical research – and the approach that OpenAI and its competitors take boils down to how they treat humans. The former treats all humans as worthy of respect and consideration. The latter treats humans as instruments – for profit in the short term, and for creating a hypothetical superintelligence in the (very) long term.

As Terry Pratchett's Granny Weatherwax reminds us, this is the root of all sin: "sin is when you treat people like things":

https://brer-powerofbabel.blogspot.com/2009/02/granny-weatherwax-on-sin-favorite.html

So much of the criticism of AI misses this distinction – instead, this criticism starts by accepting the self-serving marketing claim of the "AI safety" crowd – that their software is on the verge of becoming self-aware, and is thus valuable, a good investment, and a good product to purchase. This is Lee Vinsel's "Criti-Hype": "taking press releases from startups and covering them with hellscapes":

https://sts-news.medium.com/youre-doing-it-wrong-notes-on-criticism-and-technology-hype-18b08b4307e5

Criti-hype and AI were made for each other. Emily M Bender is a tireless cataloger of criti-hypeists, like the newspaper reporters who breathlessly repeat " completely unsubstantiated claims (marketing)…sourced to Altman":

https://dair-community.social/@emilymbender/111464030855880383

Bender, like White, is at pains to point out that the real debate isn't doomers vs accelerationists. That's just "billionaires throwing money at the hope of bringing about the speculative fiction stories they grew up reading – and philosophers and others feeling important by dressing these same silly ideas up in fancy words":

https://dair-community.social/@emilymbender/111464024432217299

All of this is just a distraction from real and important scientific questions about how (and whether) to make automation tools that steer clear of Granny Weatherwax's sin of "treating people like things." Bender – a computational linguist – isn't a reactionary who hates automation for its own sake. On Mystery AI Hype Theater 3000 – the excellent podcast she co-hosts with Alex Hanna – there is a machine-generated transcript:

https://www.buzzsprout.com/2126417

There is a serious, meaty debate to be had about the costs and possibilities of different forms of automation. But the superintelligence true-believers and their criti-hyping critics keep dragging us away from these important questions and into fanciful and pointless discussions of whether and how to appease the godlike computers we will create when we disassemble the solar system and turn it into computronium.

The question of machine intelligence isn't intrinsically unserious. As a materialist, I believe that whatever makes me "me" is the result of the physics and chemistry of processes inside and around my body. My disbelief in the existence of a soul means that I'm prepared to think that it might be possible for something made by humans to replicate something like whatever process makes me "me."

Ironically, the AI doomers and accelerationists claim that they, too, are materialists – and that's why they're so consumed with the idea of machine superintelligence. But it's precisely because I'm a materialist that I understand these hypotheticals about self-aware software are less important and less urgent than the material lives of people today.

It's because I'm a materialist that my primary concerns about AI are things like the climate impact of AI data-centers and the human impact of biased, opaque, incompetent and unfit algorithmic systems – not science fiction-inspired, self-induced panics over the human race being enslaved by our robot overlords.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/27/10-types-of-people/#taking-up-a-lot-of-space

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[indiaalphawhiskey]

I see you and Gina have been flooded with annoying antis who think they can convince us that they aren't together anymore, but honey! I do not care! First there are real world problems going on so trying to find out if they're still together has been on the back burner for me. But also, I've been a larrie for so long that I've reached the plane of existence where antis can't reach me. I truly believe they're still together. So what if I'm wrong? I'm going to get sued? Who cares! And if I'm not wrong, then I hope Harry's getting pregnant again soon <3 I just have no energy to convince other people what I believe in. I just surround myself with other like minded larries and mind my business. And that's unfathomable for antis who can't believe their faves are gay.

Honestly, I know antis love to convince themselves that if definitive proof ever came out that Larry wasn’t real, that all Larries would go into an existential life crisis and forget how to function until all that was left of us was a twitching puddle of tears on the floor.

But in all seriousness, if Larry ever turns out not be real, here are the very real things I’d have gained from this fandom anyway:

Two of my very best, very real, and life long friends (amongst all the others, of course)

The knowledge that I want to be a writer

12 complete literary works that prove I can be a writer + the kudos, hits, and comments to prove my work means something to at least one other person

Approximately 223577895 iterations of my favorite people as semi-fictional characters that fall in love over and over again

The knowledge that there are people, however “delusional”, who will not ask you to water down your passions to a palatable level

The knowledge that there are people, however “resistant to ‘the facts’” that will support and have the back of closeted queer artists for most of, if not their entire, career, however heartbreaking and painful the journey, when they truly have nothing to gain from it

The persistent belief that true love is real and unshakable, however taxing

The knowledge that frivolous interests keep you alive and healthy (yes, even after 30! Shocker!)

And, my personal favorite:

Fucking JOY.

[mozzaicynth]

one thought everyday and its just the amazing world of gumball especially these three freaks (doodles + some headcanons below :3)

mr small -

my interpretation of small becoming more mellowed out in the future seasons as opposed to season 1 is him managing his anger in a more healthier way (meditation, etc) (plus i think all those herbal infusions are incredibly effective on the nerves) . that being said i think he still has underlying anger issues and lashes out if prompted too much . another reason hes nicer and more of a pushover in the later seasons is because i like to think hes guilty of his plethora of outbursts earlier on, especially towards students (unwarranted shouting which as a school counsellor he should know is pretty harmful on younger kids) . the fact that he tries to offer his help when its absolutely not needed so many times later on in the show further makes me like to think he’s making up for it all

hes also so autistic to me hes on the spectrum you cant tell me otherwise and i think hes pretty awkward and considered strange by the whole town (which is saying a lot for elmore standards) . still super friendly and approachable but he also cant take hints and he definitely stims (and has special interests, alternative medicine are you kidding)

his music taste i love to think is all over the place … i get the general consensus is he listens to mystic chants and sitar music but he definitely listens to more, ranging from pop to indie to rock to metal (this may or may not have become an idea when i was listening to ‘darts by soad and associated it with him,) . also what with his stupid little self funded album that is such a jarring listen ‘cause of all the ridiculous genre changes

i think he crochets/macrames as a hobby along with other diy stuff (most of the decorative items in his home crafted by him) making him, surprisingly considering how incompetent he is sometimes, super crafty/handy .

larry -

larry is a great person: incredibly intelligent, he’s very knowledgable on a plethora of subjects and he has a big heart, holding little to no virtriol against the people of elmore (except the wattersons but that is SO warranted) . thus i like to imagine he did great in school, moved on to do so wonderfully in uni whilst juggling jobs and his studies but after graduation was left stuck (alike so many people nowadays) . neither small or larry came from well off families but i think for larry he didn’t have much of a support system anyway so currently he overworks and works and works just to catch up on the student debt whilst simultaneously paying his taxes (i still think about that episode all the time fuck the police . big pink son of a bitch), loans and not to mention the bare minimum to keep himself alive

he’s a very sweet and kind person but anyone under the immense stress that he’s under would be irritable and temperate (he deserves to be more angry imo) and i whilst he has so many jobs he always aims to excel at all of them, having an incredibly particular way that tasks must be done and having them organised . because of this, he can be a lot more temperate when interacting with coworkers, especially those who don’t do their job as well, having to take matters into his own hands . as he and karen (his girlfriend throughout the series) share some jobs it puts a strain on their relationship (which was built off of the mutual ‘having several jobs’) and they break up .

even so, though larry consistently tries to propose to her in the show, in “the laziest” he doesn’t seem to be happy nor comfortable at all with the prospects of marrying her . in fact, even when he’s achieved the ‘american dream’ (properties like a house and car and a family (his girlfriend soon to be wife)) he’s unhappy . personally i don’t think he knows what he wants to do with himself ; he works all day and night and has little to no time for himself to even think in peace that the only purpose he knows is work .

i like to think he used to be an artist; self taught, it was a hobby and an enjoyment but his studies and his work took over so his one form of self expression was squeezed out of his life .. (i like making their lives as bleak as possible soz ! 🙏) he still admires the arts and i think that’s another reason he likes steve so much; his handcrafts and mini projects .

steve and larry are two opposites that are similar in ways .. but i love their dynamic so much . my interpretation of them is that steve will help larry balance out his life slightly better to leave room for himself instead of working 24/7 . steve has his head in the clouds and larry grounds him, and larry is so stuck in his ways with work that steve pulls him out of it slightly, lifting him up a little higher (AUGHHHGHH I HATE THEM I HATE THEM

as for their relationship with rob, im very much a stevelmeyer adoption truther !! both larry and steve coming from dysfunctional families, they aim to help rob and take care of him to the best of their abilities . further, larry taking on taking care of rob gives him direction in his life again . 😁😁😁😁😁😁

this isnt gonna be the last post headcanon/idea wise i still think of them 24/7 but heres jus SOME things .. (im such a yapper sprry not sorry !) :3c

[pannabags]

this is such a minor detail but i love how marian always has the last piece of the puzzle that the russels need to make their plans work. in season 1 she tells george about his secretary's real name which saves his ass in court. in season 2 she tells larry that mr. mcallister is the one who bought off the duke which helps bertha strike back and secure him. paired with the fact that she was one of the few people who was supportive of them from the start i just feel like she already fits into their family so well <3

[twopoppies]

hi gina :) i was thinking about this and i wanted to share it with you. i was talking to my friend the other day about larry, and how larry is not meant for everyone. years ago when i entered the fandom, i was sooo obsessed with harry and i knew absolutely nothing about larry. i didn’t even know that larry was a thing. inevitably, when i did find out about it, i was definitely taken aback by it. but i still kept an open mind about everything. i did my research and four years later, i am still a larrie and my opinions have only grown stronger. i feel like some of these solo stans want to see themselves in harry’s ‘gfs’ so they ignore larry and the possibility of him being gay/queer. i will admit that at first i did get pulled into the delusion of harry getting with fans (townes) and i liked that i felt like that could happen to me. though that delusion was VERY short lived and i came to my senses after i found out about larry (and realistically, this is real life and not a wattpad fan fiction). the music industry and closeting is a very complex thing and some people just can’t seem to grasp how cruel the world can actually be. for a while, i actually believed louis was a father because i never looked into it due to people deeming it ‘disrespectful.’ once i actually looked into it, i saw immediately right through it and my opinion has not changed since then. the reason i am a larrie, even through all of the denials and stunts is because i did my research and i have a full and complete understanding of closeting, the stunts, babygate, etc. even if they for some unknown reason decide to split in the future, that will not change the fact that they were at least together at some point and that louis is not a father. he could blab about the kid allll he wants and there will not be a single moment where i believe a word he says. the people that get it, get it, and the people that don’t, don’t.

Yes, I agree with you. I really think there are so many fans who look at things the way you once did and don't want to dig into the facts and have their fantasies ruined. It's really sad to me, but I'm just done fighting about it.

These days, I'm here for the music, my friends, the fics/writing, and to know tour info so I can get tickets. Once upon a time, in addition to all of that, proving that Larry was real, fighting for Harry and Louis to know they were supported, and hoping a coming out was around the corner were all major reasons I was in this fandom. Things change. Fandom is very different now. I'm not interested in stubbornly holding on to something that doesn't exist anymore.

None of that means Harry and Louis aren't together or never were. It just means that their love story isn't the main focus for me these days. And that's because they no longer seem to want it to be.

[statementlou]

https://www.tumblr.com/louisupdates/754934426217152513/goodbye-faith-in-the-future-world-tour-272024?source=share

did he or did he not lose fans then?

I will answer this because this anon actually brings a concrete question to the table rather than just "hurhur but you're a larrie??" (tell me you can't actually refute any of our points…). Anyway this post shows the decrease in Louis instagram followers between the screenshots taken directly after the release of Faith in the Future in Nov '22, when he changed his bio to promote that album and the tour tickets, and now, when he changed it again to mention the current release. But I'm putting that response under a cut because I'm tired of the actual POINT of all this nonsense getting lost in a sea of made up things people insist are important:

There is no rational argument you can make to say that Louis has less fans now than he did 2, 4, or 6 years ago. You don't need a spreadsheet of details you need to USE YOUR EYES! He has gone from filling theaters to filling arenas and stadiums. His second album made a higher chart position than his first album. His festival has doubled in size EVERY year of its existence. And for that matter: his insta post engagement numbers remain about the same (despite the fact that older posts should have way MORE likes due to having been there longer, even aside from follower counts.) SO WHO FUCKING CARES ABOUT HIS INSTA FOLLOWER NUMBER???? Serious question: what does the word "fans" mean if these things aren't what matters? ALL of this quibbling about what he should do to make things better and people can't even see that THINGS AREN'T BAD.

Anyway to address the specific question- (con't......)

NO- HE DID NOT LOSE FANS. HE LOST SOME INSTA FOLLOWERS. THESE ARE NOT THE SAME THING. As I said above, literally what does it mean to lose fans if that number change coincides with him having higher sales, more audience members, and higher engagement than ever before? Whatever he lost ISN'T FANS. I wouldn't be surprised if a significant factor was something like a bot purge, but also yes: I'm sure a lot of casuals followed him around the time of his big album release and later unfollowed him. That's extremely normal because that's how casual engagement works, and why the definition of fan really matters. Louis and his team understand this and have referenced it repeatedly, talking about how lucky he is to have *us* specifically, to have the kind of dedicated fanbase he has, to have the KIND of fans he does who will allow him to do what HE wants. @dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram named the issue of depth vs breadth with regard to fans a long time ago, and pointed out why having DEPTH is so much more important. It's like this- artists who are on top 40 radio have more numbers on things like insta follows, and for a time on sales and tickets. But those aren't FANS- they're people with a casual interest. And as soon as that person isn't being forced in their ears 10x a day, those people lose interest and stop supporting them, stop buying stuff and unfollow, and those artists end up doing the 'opener on the jingle ball' circuit rather than their own tours. One Direction as a whole, and Louis maybe most of all or near to at this point, have something MUCH MORE VALUABLE than that- DEPTH FANS. Louis has fans who will support him even if he takes years to release music, or stops parading around with a pretend girlfriend to stay in the headlines at least once a month, or completely changes his image and genre, and that is UNHEARD OF. It's ASTONISHING and worth SO MUCH MORE. And they get that! THAT is why he always bragging about us, why industry people he works with are always so agog about us, why he will do anything for US- not for randos. He is also growing his breadth- and it's OBVIOUSLY WORKING whatever his follower counts are, but that is always going to be secondary to doing things for THE FANDOM because that is his sustainable business model. That is what keeps him onstage and reaching number one. And not coincidentally, the things they do are also working to grow that- much more valuable- commodity. So the fact that that's exactly what these chuckleheads complain about- that he does things that are just fandom facing or serving rather than everything being aimed at recruiting casual fans- does nothing but betray how completely they, unlike Louis and his team, misunderstand the actual drivers of his (actual, existing, happening) success. Luckily for Louis, he and his team rely on their own data harvesting (they do a LOT of it) and growth metrics (they're off the charts) rather than the smug assumptions of random (mostly quite new to this) fans and the few bitter people leading the complaining about everything Louis does.

[larrylimericks]

23Mar23

We’re feeling some internal friction At silver screen Louis’ depiction; All the world is a stage But it’s hard to engage When plot lines combine fact and fiction.

I get really rambly below the fold. Proceed with caution if you’re over the discourse already.

I debated seeing All of Those Voices in theaters. I didn’t see either of Harry’s films in theaters — Harries are too much of a wildcard, and I refused to sit through hours of squeals and gasps and reactions, not to the movie but to “omg! Harry’s going down on someone! omg, Harry’s bum!” So I was already tentative about seeing Louis’ film in a shared space, outside the protective silos of tumblr. But I bought a ticket, because I want to support him and because I was genuinely curious what story would be told. Then we got the trailer and I hesitated again, not wanting to watch a propaganda film. But, I’ve lived through all the other Bullshit moments, so I figured I could live through Bullshit on the big screen.

My theater crowd was great — pretty neutral aside from an amusing row of politely excitable Larries I was in secret solidarity with. And I pretty much loved the film. Well, 92% of it. I look forward to watching it again when it streams. I mean, it was an hour and a half of content featuring this fascinating creature we’re all obsessed with. I didn’t want to blink. I hung on his every word (when I could understand them). How cool to get, essentially, a long-form interview, where he’s not promoting an album and we’re not getting the same sound bytes. Louis is wonderfully open and vulnerable, and the story of his life (heh) is inherently compelling. The cinematography is beautiful. The behind-the-scenes are delightful and delicious. I can’t wait for the AOTV gif sets once we have it in high-def.

But it has some plot holes as wide and deep as the ones in Don’t Worry Darling.

First, there’s the confusing (to the uninformed) absence of a love interest. Louis is asexual, as far as the film goes. There’s not even a ghost of Eleanor, with whom he’s cumulatively spent a decade and who is supposed to have inspired so many great love songs and with whom he is supposed to have survived a pandemic. Props to E for living her best life now: going to see Scream on AOTV opening day, enjoying full custody of the pups, publicly supporting her assumed partner — sorry you got Kiki Layned from the film, but I’m guessing you weren’t even written into the script. (It’s not like the film was conveniently re-edited in the months since their break-up. Her stunt tapering was intentional.)

Then there’s the glaring absence of a baby mama (thank god; that family would have been even more insufferable). We’re cruising along for 45 minutes or so and then, wham, Dad!Louis enters the chat with a fully formed 6-year-old child. The kid just magically appears with no backstory — just like in real life ... twice (the first time with the pregnancy announcement and the second time with the revival of Dad!Louis after several years of dormancy, right in time for documentary filming. Just like Harry stunted with his co-star during filming and production, Louis stunted with his.)

The kid is cute, and faultless in this. The scenes are objectively sweet (as they were designed to be). But Louis, who normally keeps things very close to the vest, is all of a sudden an emotional spigot you can’t turn off when it comes to these scenes. It seems quite out of character. Which brings back to mind that this Louis *is* a character. The Freddie scenes just didn’t seem to have a point in the plot other than: Louis is a dad. And that role isn’t integral to the film’s story.

He’s incredibly emotional with Freddie, but the movie doesn’t tell us why. The storytelling gets lazy here. The lad/dad plot seems wedged in. The movie would be perfectly complete without it. I felt like it could have been integrated a few different ways: Louis experienced tragedy after tragedy after tragedy — loses 1D, loses his mum, loses his sister ... and then impending fatherhood either becomes another trial he must reluctantly face (in the surprise pregnancy narrative) or it helps him navigate the grief of losing his sole parent, his closest confidante. OR, Louis, not wanting to be like the absentee father he had, shows up for his own oopsie baby despite the unexpected circumstances. But there’s no exposition or rising action. No footage or photos from the first few years of the kid’s life that we haven’t already seen. Just an immaculate conception.

I think the most compelling narratives of the film are these:

Louis’ overcoming adversity after adversity after adversity. Holy hell. I lived through 1D ending, through the devastating news about Jay (god, I remember the shock and sadness of that day — it was incomprehensible), through the heartbreaking news about Fizzy, and then when you think Louis is gonna get his moment of victory with his first solo world tour, coronavirus pulls the rug out. (That sequence was well done: where we keep seeing the dates get closer and closer to March 2020, and we all know the villain that’s coming, but it’s still such a blow.) I lived through all that in real time, but seeing it in such a concentrated sequence really highlights the shit he’s been dealt, and hearing him open up about so much of it ... that’s the character development relevant to the film’s denouement. And getting to see Louis get what he deserves, finally, and hearing him acknowledge that he deserves it, was a lovely ending.

Louis’ journey to find his footing and his confidence as a solo artist after unfathomable success as part of a group. But, in a sort of plot twist, he’s not really solo, is he? The film gives a lovely introduction to his band now — and in their own words, reveals that they’re not just a backing band, they’re a *band* band. Louis has let them in. He’s forged a new brotherhood. *That*, for me, was the heartwarming story. I loved those scenes, loved seeing Louis in his element, which is in a collective, where he is both king and jester at the same time. (Or perhaps Oli’s the jester. Thank fuck for him, man. Oli is the standout. The breakthrough performance. The comic relief. I want a spinoff series.) It’s easy to miss 1D and glorify those short years and think nothing will ever top it, but Charlie’s storytelling of the LT Band is remarkable. We’re left looking forward, not back.

I know Louis’ dedication to his fans and his fans’ dedication to him is a huge focus, but I don’t really enjoy watching commentaries on fandoms I’m a part of. I’m living it. I don’t need outsider context. And in a fandom as fractured as Louis’ (and 1D’s) there’s not a universal experience. The film depicts dedication as sleeping on streets for rail, hopping from country to country and draining bank accounts — because that’s the kind of “superfandom” that gets easily turned into a marketable freak show. Show me the documentary on the fans who organize the light projects, who run the fashion accounts, who curate livestream sources on show nights, who have turned giffing into an art and science, who help promote Louis in the absence of a competent marketing team, etc., etc. I also thought the interview with the American(?) girls talking about LATAM shows was shortsighted. And showing the rainbow factions but not addressing them? What a missed opportunity to talk about songs like Only the Brave becoming a queer anthem. Straight artists can have gay fans, you know.

But the film doesn’t make the kid relevant to any of those storylines. He could have been worked into the first, but wasn’t. It was like a standalone narrative, with footage from a narrow set of days. I was at both those L.A. shows. The energy was so different from night 1 to 2. And in retrospect it’s clear Louis was performing the first night so Charlie could get the right shots. More like a choreographed play than a rock concert. It makes sense now why the Clarks weren’t in the VIP box with Freddie — couldn’t have them cluttering the frame or distracting the actors. Just, everything about the Freddie scenes is heavy-handed. Make a sign for your dad! Draw his logo in the sand! Fly a kite at sunset! He’s the spitting image of Louis! (Len does all the heavy lifting.) And all the maneuvering it had to take to get all those shots from the L.A. show?! In the VIP box from behind (and from the front, and when he just happens to be mouthing along to Two Of Us), side stage watching Louis end the show, on-stage watching Louis approach Freddie after the show, on-stage catching the moment Louis gives the lad a shout-out ... Charlie had a shot list. But sure, nothing was set up, it was totally organic.

I’m still unsettled by how heavily Charlie laid it on at the first premiere press conference — *he* was the one to bring up the kid, and was weirdly emphatic that nothing was staged, nothing was forced. It had the same energy of the “It’s. Not. Real” thrown baby doll moment, only it’s Charlie insisting that It. Is. Real. Thou dost protest too much, me thinks.

And of course, the lack of interaction between Louis and Harry remains, as ever, the biggest tell. We get poignant post-1D Nouis and Lilo moments in the film, but no Larry. We’re spoon-fed these Very Emotional Moments between father and son (“love you,” “Darling,” mouth kisses), when the real story, the real emotion, the real connection is in just a few seconds of furtive glances between Harry and Louis in the backstage footage of the last 1D performance. Christ, the way Harry’s eyes bore into Louis — chin tilted down, eyes glancing up from beneath a furrowed brow, lips tight, disguising his attentiveness with a hair flip ... they mastered so many forms of silent communication. The quiet call and response, the depths of love and care and concern and protection contained in micro-expressions. Fuck, give me 90 minutes of that. Just a silent film of Louis and Harry looking at each other.

Anyway. Sorry this sounds so grumpy. I did really love most of the movie. But I haven’t made sense of why this film was made. I don’t know its purpose. Maybe the introspection forced by the pandemic lockdown is to credit for this glut of music docs (“docs”) lately. Maybe nine minutes frees him up for nine more months or nine more years. I dunno. He obviously wanted this story told in this way.

Seeing a movie requires the willing suspension of disbelief. You have to ignore critical thinking in order to enjoy the story you’re being told. You tune out your knowledge that everything is fake for the sake of being entertained. We know that Superman can’t actually fly, but we still buy tickets to the cinema. But, a documentary shouldn’t require us to employ this semi-conscious perceiving mode. Yet here we are. I’m just not sure how much more or how much longer we can suspend our disbelief to enjoy fandom.

[ryverbind]

Faceless Fixation (Sal Fisher): High Ground [27]

"Woah," A hand catches my elbow, clutching tightly to support my weight so I don't fall-- like my body was clearly planning to do. "Careful."

I sigh shakily, trying to ignore the raspy, mumbled words and the touch of his skin on mine-- especially the reminder of his first remorseful words to me months ago.

Sal releases my arm, lets his hand hover near my body for a moment before returning to helping me and Larry put my drum kit back together.

I bite down on my lips as I tighten a couple things and decide that Larry will take over the job of situating the kick drum because I clearly can't do it myself without threatening to fall on my ass. And given the fact that I'm being forced into close proximity with Sal right now, I'd prefer to not give him any reasons to touch me.

It doesn't help at all that I barely managed to stuff the necklace he gave Lexi into my pocket before he could see. He passed right by it while we were packing at my old apartment-- I thought I'd fucking faint. 

After Nate left that night, I tried to throw it away, forget about the damn guitar pick, but... I just couldn't. Something about it felt so sacred. It was the one good moment I had with him and some sick part of me wanted to hold onto that.

But now I regret ever tucking it away under a ton of clothes in my dresser drawer. I should've chucked it into the fuck it bucket. I don't want reminders of the person he never truly was.

I don't like Sal. I don't know what I was thinking the other night. Nate's insane.

I've had time to think about it and to grow absolutely petrified by the concept. How can I feel something if I'm terrified of it? That's proof enough for me. I was just too high that night.

And it's definitely not like I'm avoiding Sal now or anything. I'm doing great! He's helping with unpacking my things... even though I was the one who begged Ash not to invite him.

She offered up the idea last night after we finally finished unpacking everything in Larry and Sal's home. I was hoping that, since we finished our part, I would finally be able to catch a break from his presence. I can't explain the way my heart dropped when she said the boys would get here in the morning.

Given how difficult setting up this kit is though, maybe she realized what I couldn't. And maybe I just need to suck up all of these difficult emotions and just... get over it.

Ash had frowned at me last night and said something that made me realize I'm probably going insane.

"You know he thinks of you as a friend, right?" She'd said, putting her phone down to talk to me seriously. "You two still bicker, but I think it's because that's your dynamic. Other than that, he's changed around you and that alone says he cares to some degree."

I hadn't responded. I still don't know how I'd respond.

But given that Sal mentioned just a couple days ago, as we were packing up my things, something about us being friends... I've been thinking that Ash may be right. I considered him my friend up until that moment too. I had been thinking about how much our relationship had changed, especially during our trip to Nockfell.

Now, though, I feel like I've reverted backward. Even farther back than when we were constantly arguing. I've gone back to how things were before I even met him. I haven't said a word to him all day today.

There's an ominous crack beneath my fingers that makes me pause. I suddenly realize that I've tightened something way too much... a bolt. and I've damaged it in the process. Great.

Larry appears through the gaps in the instrument in front of me, his brows drawn together. "Damn, y/n. You good?" He asks, deep voice filled with concern.

Sighing, I plop into a sitting position, giving my calves a rest after leaning on my haunches for so long. "Yea, just distracted," I murmur, pinching the bridge of my nose. "I'm going run to a store to buy a new bolt. This one's fucked."

"Maybe you should rest first," Larry offers. I look up at him, noting a raised eyebrow this time and a small frown adorning his lips. "Seems like you have a lot on your mind."

I swallow thickly, knowing Sal is hearing every second of this being that he's just three feet away from me.

"Yea," I try to agree in a spritely manner, but my voice comes out hoarse instead. I clear my throat and try again. "Yea, I guess I'll... rest. You guys should, um, take a break too."

Larry waves me off, his face moving a way from the gap and being replaced by the top of his chest. "Nah, we've got this! Your task for now is to chill. No if's, and's, or but's."

I roll my eyes, my lips twitching in a smile that I try to stomp down. "Yes, sir," I reply sarcastically before standing to my feet. Damn, my back aches.

I try to stop myself, my mind and heart trapped in an endless, opposing battle as my gaze snaps to Sal. He's on one knee, the other propped up and his head tilted at what seems like an awkward, uncomfortable angle to look at something underneath my snare.

I squeeze my eyes shut and speed-walk to the door when a dull flutter lights up my chest at the sight of him. "Thanks, guys," I say quickly before slipping out of the room.

I walk leisurely down the hallway, trying to rid myself of the tingling sensation on my skin where Sal held me. As much as I love the hidden, forbidden moments when he touches me, the remnants make me itch. There's some part of me that's cowering in a corner, captured by fear and I don't know how to conquer it.

Sal already has his own issues going on with this woman who hurt him. It feels cruel to put a rift between us because I have my own problems too now. I don't know what to do, which causes my mind to drift to darker places, think different things. Like... maybe I should end things between us.

When I walk past our kitchen and into the living room, the first thing I see is Ash sitting criss-cross on the floor with a building manual beside her, a half-put together IKEA TV stand, and, funny enough, Nate's screw drive limply hanging from her hand as she reads.

The warm, afternoon light splashes onto Ash's angelic form from our large windows that cover a huge portion of our living room, allowing plenty of natural sunlight in. The sun's rays cascade down Ash's hair, illuminating the brown strands and causing a deep, sparkling red undertone to shine through.

She's just so pretty. Every one of her angles is the right one.

I walk over to her and look down at the manual. "How's the building going?" I ask. My voice makes her snap her head up to look at me. The light catches her viridian eyes and I can't help but marvel at the beauty captured in he gaze. "Need any help?"

She smiles at me, her expression softening upon realizing it's me beside her. "Nah, I think I've got it!" She says cheerily, flipping the screwdriver in her hand. "Why aren't you setting up your drums with the boys."

I purse my lips at the reminder. "I broke something," I murmur bashfully. "Need to get a new part, so that's where I'm headed. Probably."

Ash's brows furrow in surprise and she reels back to look at me better. "You broke something? You, of all people?" She blinks, eyebrows raising now as the confirmation settles. "Well, that would make sense. We're all stressed with the move and whatnot." She waves the screwdriver and moves to return to her building, but she pauses.

Unease boils deep inside my skin as I watch the gears begin to turn in her mind. She turns back to me with her eyes narrowed and continues, suspicion and disbelief tainting her voice. "Unless..." she starts, tilting her head. "You're avoiding Sal."

I cringe, pressing a finger to my lips to hopefully silence my friend. Gosh, this genuinely could not be worse. I feel like I'm gonna puke.

"I'm not avoiding him!" I whisper-yell to Ash, eyes practically bulging out of my head.

"Says the one who asked me not to invite him over this morning." She puts her hands on her hips and gives me a no-bullshit look.

I sigh deeply, scrunch up my nose in complete distaste-- in myself, of course. I shouldn't have been so obvious. Arguing about it isn't going to convince Ash otherwise and it won't change that her assumption is true either.

I open my mouth to tell her that that's not what matters, but she beats me to it.

The woman leans her head back and screams Sal's name at the top of her lungs.

I nearly jump out of my skin, my eyes widening when the impending doom of Ash making Sal and I talk or-- worse-- spend time together settles into my bones.

I hear a muffled curse, a laugh to follow, and then a door shutting down the hall. For fuck's sake.

Sal walks into the living room, stopping at the threshold with his arms gestured offensively at Ash. "What?" he scowls.

The beauty beside me rolls her eyes at Sal's attitude while I turn away from him, my cheeks catching fire. I hate all of this.

"You should go shopping with y/n," Ash chirps, ignoring the fact that she just summoned Sal with some kind of death call.

I spin to her, mouth gaping as I fight to bite down the resounding 'no' that desperately wants to leave my soul. Why would she suggest something like that?

"Why?" Sal asks the question I didn't have the voice to. "She seems more than capable of doing that on her own."

Aw, that's kind of sweet.

"Because," Ash shrugs. "You're..." she seems to think to herself, trying to find a good excuse. This is preposterous. "You're the only person that knows instruments like she does. Forceful bonding!"

Sal sighs deeply. I don't have it in me to look at him as he walks over to us. "What about Larry? He--"

"Yea, Sal," Ash says, her voice loud and reverberating around the room. "What about Larry?" Her tone is aggressive, suggestive. Like she knows she's about to shut him down.

Sal goes quiet.

"So," Ash's chipper voice slices through the tension rising around the three of us. I turn to her, noting the grin splitting her face. "See you later, guys!"

My gaze cuts to Sal. He's already watching me, his eyes portraying a multitude of emotions and thoughts that I couldn't even begin to decipher. He's so him-- he feels things so differently compared to me.

"Shoo." Ash hisses. I watch her hand wave us off in my peripheral.

There's no use fighting her. I should just get it over with. If we go quickly, it shouldn't take that long, right?

Not to mention, I'm the queen of avoiding absolutely anything and everything. My three identities says it all. If I can do that, I can do this. Sal won't even know what's hit him! We can let my awkwardness and issues fizzle out, let the silence consume until I'm better and then it can all go back to the way it was... unless it doesn't. Unless my sobering up takes weeks and Sal gets tired of me. Or worse, he starts asking questions.

With my luck, the latter will happen.

I run my tongue over the surface of my teeth then speedwalk to me and Ash's kitchen. Grab my phone, my keys to the apartment, and my wallet then I head to the door. My mind buzzes the entire way, especially as I skim past Sal both times. I hold my breath each time as if being in his proximity drags me into the depths of the ocean. He's the equivalent to Leviathan in his watery, dark home and I'm doing everything I can to evade his monstrous presence.

Though, he isn't the true monster in this story.

I open the door and leave it open for Sal to follow, which he does. The door shuts softly once I'm a few steps away and toward the elevator.

It's maddening. The silence. It encases the two of us in a mourning veil that's already become a safe haven for the tears, lies, and grief of what's been lost. It's poetic in a sick and sadistic way-- watching everything that was carefully built up teeter on the edge of what could be-- all to fall apart. Crafted and mastered by hands more skilled than a Roman sculptor; a musical antagonist and his chaotic protagonist.

I suppose, if I'm a protagonist at all, I'm not doing much good by shredding our agreement.

I pick up my pace and whirl toward the elevator, not giving Sal time to percolate in our tense disquiet. I put my hand against the sliding door and wait for his presence with bated breath.

The moment I see his fluffy azure hair pop up beside the door, I move. I press my knuckle into the lobby button and burrow into a corner of the elevator.

To pass the time and fill the silence that echoes around in my head, also to ignore the way his scent infects every one of my senses, I pull my phone out to search for a music store.

He smells the way he always does-- clean, a little minty, and some kind of hypnotizing cologne. I can never think straight when he's so close. Which, speaking of, he's very close to my safety corner. Maybe a foot away from me.

He knows what he's doing, the bastard.

But the scenario is becoming easier for me to work through. There's a shop that specializes in equipment for instruments only about 10 minutes away from us, so they should have what I need.

The elevator dings, comes to a sickeningly slow halt that makes my skin crawl with nervous anticipation. The moment the door slides open, I blast past the threshold like an inmate awaiting their release. Don't have to tell me twice; green means go.

By this point, Sal must realize I'm either in a rush or want nothing to do with him. My neurons are misfiring, ensnared in a battle of good and bad. I feel terrible for what I'm doing, but even more so, I'm horrified of addressing this entire issue.

I skitter through a door and nearly kick myself when the better half of my mind reminds me to wait for Sal before I take off down the road.

The man himself lets the door to our apartment building shut as he joins me in the hot, dry air of Los Angeles.

He glances at me, hair a perfect mess and a twinge of apprehension and curiosity in his oceanic gaze.

I dare to glance back.

"You're avoiding me?" He asks, tilting his head, hands in his pockets. The spitting image of confrontation.

Yea, the glance back could only last so long before I regretted it.

I hold my breath and spin on my heel. Fuck, he heard Ash.

"I looked up directions for a music shop. It should be a little ways down the road," I say instead of answering his question, pointing a finger downtown.

"Vi."

I don't look.

"I think a 10 minute walk maybe?"

"Y/n, you—"

"Let's get going before they close— for lunch." I cut him off, jutting my chin toward the bustling sidewalk. I take a step forward— one that's so uncoordinated that I just know I look like I'm scrambling away.

Then his hand catches my wrist. And everything moves in slow motion; you know, hearts surrounding the two of us, smooth jazz playing and a pink tint to our bodies.

I send a glare at the invisible cameras just in time for my body to jolt to a stop.

His fingers squeeze gently around my skin and I suck in a breath of air, too terrified to look at him.

"Look," he says, tone shockingly tender to match the way his skin rubs against mine. I swallow past the thoughts. Bolt. Bolt. Drums. Must get bolt. "I don't know why you're avoiding me, but if you want this thing to continue between us... we're going to have to talk." I hear his scuffed footsteps grow closer to me right until his voice is just an inch or two above my head. "I can't fuck you if you won't even look at me."

I do my best to suppress a shiver. He whispered those filthy words, laid a path of roses and sin with his voice alone to lead me back to him. And, God, I can't stand that I slowly start tiptoeing along the path.

I have to think about a lot of things. Most importantly, what he's just said. Sal is a man of very few words— when he isn't screwing me into next week, that is. But I can tell by his diction of choice that... maybe he thinks he did something wrong. He's caught on to the fact that I can't bring myself to look at him. And this is Sal. The first thing he's going to assume is that I've finally started to think he's ugly. If that wasn't a worry of his, he wouldn't still be wearing the prosthetic. Frenemies with frenefits or not, it isn't hard to get a read on his insecurities.

Second, Nate prepped me for this. We talked about what happened between Sal and me the other night, about trusting him. So shouldn't I fess up and tell him why I can't look at him? That it's because, secretly, somewhere deep down, I've been squashing this overwhelming urge to rip that prosthetic off him and kiss him until we're both breathless?

I can hardly even admit the last bit to myself.

You know what, in fact, I'm not interested in kissing him at all.

No. I'm just avoiding my feelings.

If I had a coin right now, and Heads was labeled as "I won't kiss Sal" and Tails was called "I will kiss Sal," I would flip it. And the moment it would land on Heads, the "I won't kiss Sal option," I'd realize that I've been lying to myself. Because I would be disappointed to know that I didn't get Tails instead.

Sighing, I squeeze my eyes shut, absolutely raving over the minute physical contact between us. This is turning into a problem for me. An obsession. I can't recall the last time I was so taken by a mere touch.

I turn to face Sal, my fingers quaking as I finally meet his pretty eyes. They watch me, narrowed and waiting.

"It's about the other night," I begrudgingly admit, my voice catching in my throat. "I— yea. We should talk."

Sal's eyes return to normal, no longer narrowed as realization settles upon him. "When you used our safe word?" He asks, but doesn't give me a moment to respond. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. If you want me to keep the prosthetic on or a safe distance between us, just tell me."

There's a pang in my chest again. This one isn't as dull as the others have been though— this one hits deep and it's raw and real and so pitiful because Sal thinks it's his face. Thinks he's the cause for this.

What have I done?

His fingers loosen around my wrist, hand beginning to fall away.

I reach forward quickly, grabbing onto his index and middle fingers. "No—" I rush to say. "It's not you. You're..." I don't know how to word what's going through my head. I don't know how to explain that the problem was never him— it's me. "I'm shockingly always comfortable with you. You know, despite the blood lust and arguments. You take care of me. It's not you," I can't help but repeat.

Sal looks down at our partially linked hands and that's when I realize that maybe I reacted a bit too passionately. Quickly, I release his fingers as a wave of heat rushes across my face. This is so embarrassing. Annnnd now I can't look at him again.

"Okay," Sal says, the word low and muffled. He sounds nervous. Awkward. "Then let's talk. My statement still stands."

I nod my agreement, voice caught in my throat.

If anything, he's open to communication. As scary as it all is, I owe him an explanation, right? The worst that can happen is he realizes I'm just insane and he wants nothing to do with me anymore. It could be so much worse.

The two of us begin leisurely walking down the street toward the shop. He falls into step beside me, eyes on the pavement beneath his feet. He doesn't say a word, simply waits for me to find my thoughts and my voice.

If I'd go this entire trip without speaking, he still wouldn't push me to explain. I both adore and abhor every inch of that generous ideal of his.

But the issue still remains-- I have no idea where to start. I don't know how to even comprehend my own emotions and problems, so how can I correctly portray them to Sal?

"I don't know how to start," I admit at some point, chewing on my bottom lip while my entire body freezes over with embarrassment and shame. Who knew communicating was so hard?

"I understand," Sal says comfortingly. What the fuck happened to him? Is this his serious voice? "I had the same issue. My therapist told me that not understanding your feelings is part of understanding them, confusing as that is. Give it to me in pieces and we'll figure out the rest."

Wow. Two weeks ago, he would have pounced on the opportunity to see me crumble beneath my instability. Now, he's coaching me through it. How much changed in Nockfell?

You know, the truth of the matter is that the change began long before we went to Nockfell. I just have a hard time accepting that. Change is terrifying to me-- that's no secret, so acknowledging that it's there in the first place is hard enough. But in all honesty, the shift between him and I began the moment he apologized to me in the bar where Dark Autumn Complex played.

That's where my downfall was born.

Instead of focusing on the root of the problem, I pay close attention to the sprouting leaves. The present. We can't change the past, we can only work on what's happening now.

"Change makes me very uncomfortable," I tell him, painfully aware of how emotionally bare I am to him right now. I'm the first to know that putting my heart in this man's disastrous hands can make all the difference in how things proceed. But if I want a positive outcome, this is my only choice. "And we've changed a lot."

Sal nods beside me. "We have," he agrees.

I suck in a breath, the perfectly timed scuffing of our feet vibrating through my body. He knows how our relationship has done a complete three-sixty too.

"And I think it's scared me. The other day-- in my room. That scared me," I continue, quaking fingers twining into the fabric of my shirt.

"I remember you saying you were scared," Sal builds on my words. This turned into the tensest therapy session I've ever endured. But, he's surprisingly good at this. "What is it that scared you, exactly?"

"Um," I start awkwardly, tilting my head as I backtrack to the events of that night. I relive it all, every single step. And where my heart seems to seize is when I recall the look in his eyes as they fixated on my mouth. "It was the way you looked at me." The words burst past my lips as the realization settles. "I thought you were going to kiss me."

A quick, muffled sound from Sal reaches me. I turn to look at him, seeing his head still bent toward the ground, but a hand covering the mouth of his prosthetic this time. Is he... laughing?

I lean forward a bit and see that his eyes are scrunched closed as his chest vibrates with laughter that I can tell he's trying his best to hold at bay. Whether it's to prevent embarrassing me further or to hold up the genuine part of our conversation, I can't tell.

I don't know why he's holding back, but, damn, am I relieved.

"Are you laughing at me, you asshat?" I pick at him, amusement making my voice waver with giggles.

"Sorry." He chokes on a short, wild laugh before holding a hand up to me. "I know it's serious, I just--" He chuckles a bit more.

A smile blooms on my lips at his reaction. I'd give anything to see his handsome face right about now-- to watch the way his full, scarred lips curl into a bewitching smile. To see his sharp canines and slightly crooked teeth on display. To watch the dimple form next to his mouth, his nose scrunch up, his marred cheeks lift with happiness, his brows furrow as he tries to contain himself.

I blink when Sal looks over at me, his eyes squinted with obvious amusement. My smile softens, so as not to give the true extent of my reaction away to him.

"That's not something you have to worry about," he says, catching his breath. He straightens himself a bit but stops his walking, fully turning toward me. "I won't kiss you. It's something..." He tilts his head contemplatively. "It's rare for me. I've only ever kissed Ash and, funny enough, your damn cousin."

How do I unpack that? Easy-- I don't. The first words out of my mouth are, "You kissed Ash?"

Sal nods, the action a tad reserved as he averts his gaze. "We were young. Both had a lot to drink and Larry's favorite kind of dare is one that no one wants to do-- he dared me to kiss Ash. So I did. Travis was much different though. It was a lot more..." He trails off and that's fine by me. I don't need to know anymore.

"Got it," I continue for him, the words clipped to tell him he doesn't have to say more. He snickers lightly.

"I wasn't going to kiss you. I just think..." he trails off again and that's when I notice he still hasn't looked back to me. He's biting his tongue. There's something he doesn't want to say. But, "I think you're pretty."

My heart stutters in my chest as I watch him, toss his words around in my head a bit.

"Everything that I don't have, you do. Your face is so... symmetrical, lovely. I can't help but watch how you do things sometimes. I was being honest— it fascinates me." Nothing but honesty in his tone. Dripping with honey and all things sweet. I didn't peg him as a sentimental guy, but when I'm wrong, it works out. I don't think anyone's ever said something so kind to me before.

How the fuck am I supposed to sleep tonight?

I don't quite know how to work through or accept what he's just told me. He thinks I'm so pretty that he can't help but watch me? That's a line out of a Disney movie. No, even better, it's Twilight. A Hallmark romance.

But I appreciate his honesty. He told me the same thing when I said our safe word-- that I fascinated him. That it wasn't what it looked like. He was never going to kiss me, he was just admiring me.

I can't tell if that makes me feel better or worse. His words were the coin and the side that landed is unfortunately the 'I won't kiss Sal' option. Maybe it's better this way. I don't have to worry about things becoming something they aren't.

I suck in a shaky breath and nod my head to show him that I hear him. That I believe him. There's this nagging in my head right now though. A little sliver of my brain that's fighting to get to my frontal lobe, begging for me to compliment him the same way he did me. And that sliver manages to work its way to where it needs to be because I start saying way too much.

"I hope you know," I start softly-- I can't speak louder or my voice will waver. I'm so nervous, I feel like I've done blood work without breakfast. "That you're very pretty. I was thinking to myself earlier that I'd like to see your smile."

Y/n, you're off the show. Pack your bags. Go home.

Sal's head snaps to me in a moments notice, the action so quick that I feel like he's given both of us whiplash. I definitely shouldn't have said that.

"So you get it then," is what he says, the words mumbled. "We both fascinate each other. We wouldn't have this arrangement otherwise, so that's settled, at least." He pushes a hand through his hair, ruffles his fringe. "Was anything else bothering you?"

Nope. That was about it. But I am curious. "You asked if we were friends?" I throw the question into the air, refusing to look at him as the sign for the shop becomes visible in the distance.

Sal hums in a disbelieving way. "I would never. Did you hit your head?"

My mouth drops open. "You literally told me, 'aren't we friends?' That's asking if we're friends."

"You know I didn't mean it that way. Can't you tell when I'm fucking with you?" Sal counters, scratching at his chipping nail polish.

I pinch my lips together, a flair of frustration painting my insides red. "So what are we then?"

Famous last words. This is exactly what MCR wrote about before they broke up. I'm fated to a chemical demise and, jeez, why would I ask that question? I'm making all the mistakes today.

The answer is that we're nothing. We didn't even start as something.

To my surprise though, Sal's quiet. He doesn't laugh, he doesn't freak out, doesn't argue. Like he's genuinely pondering my question.

"I'd say we're definitely past the enemies part, right?" He asks, looking toward me for agreement. His bright eyes that capture the suffocating sunlight meet mine and my body goes rigid on instinct. I give him a stiff nod and he faces forward, continuing. "We aren't quite friends though. To me, friends are people who know my secrets and still choose to stick around. Ash, Todd, Larry. Chug and Maple back home. I mean, The Faces are more like family to me, but you get what I mean." He cuts himself off for a moment before continuing. "I'd call us acquaintances. And you don't have to worry about there being any more change because you're the last person I'd ever tell a secret to."

I narrow my eyes at him. This dumbass. "I've seen your face. Isn't that a secret?"

Sal slowly turns his head to me, blinks. "You really want to talk about faces right now, sweetheart?"

I swallow, slapping a hand onto my mask as I realize what he's hinting toward. Fuck. And he called me sweetheart-- I need him to stop... I don't know. I just need him to stop existing or something.

This is the first time he's ever said anything about my face. I knew I wouldn't be able to escape it forever, but I wish it could have held off for a little longer. This is dangerous territory he's walked us into.

I'm openly gaping at him, I realize, with wide eyes and my fingers gripping onto my mask. His brows furrow a bit before he looks away. "Don't look at me like I stole your cat," he murmurs, aggravated. "I'd never ask you to take it off."

He wouldn't? "You wouldn't?"

He shakes his head, strands of hair falling onto the cheeks of his prosthetic. "Would you have asked me to take mine off if you hadn't seen my face by accident?"

As curious as I had been of what he looked like, he has a point. I never would have pressured him or even asked for him to show me his face. If I'd have discovered his face in another way, it would have been on Sal's terms. It would have been if he wanted to show me.

"No," I whisper, gazing up at the store sign that's just a few doors ahead now. "I wouldn't have."

"Exactly," he says matter-of-factly. "Do you feel better now? Are you done avoiding me or am I going to have a couple more days to relish in the fact that I made you fold?"

I purse my lips, desperately resisting the urge to punch him in the gut. "No one folded, dickhead. I was just confused." I spin to him, point an accusatory finger at his chest. "You switch up quick, don't you?"

A mischievous smile that's hidden from me makes his pretty eyes squint as he grabs onto my wrist, gently shoves it away from his chest. "You love it, don't you?" He counters playfully, though there's still some bite in the way he speaks.

I scoff, grabbing the door of the store and damn thankful for the distraction. "You are the ground I walk on, Fisher," I murmur.

"Mmm," Sal hums, a seductive edge to his tone. "Kinky."

A smile works onto my lips at the familiarity of our bickering. I don't know if he's started this up for my sake or simply because it's so natural, but I'm thankful either way. Things feel normal. There's still an overwhelming, underlying desire to have every inch of him I can get, but not having all of him is okay so long as the rest stays the same.

This entire situation was selfish of me. Sal's battling his own demons right now; I mean, part of why he came to LA was to escape his past. Who am I to take away the one thing that gives him a little bit of comfort? I can't help him much, but being a happily willing accomplice to his most sadistic desires is something, right?

I don't reply to him, especially since we've reached the store. So instead of entertaining his bad behavior, I pull the door open and hold it for Sal as he follows me inside.

As tiny and insignificant as the store looks from the outside, it sure has a lot of personality inside. The aisle's stretch as far as the eye can see and suddenly I'm intimidated by a little bit of stacked metal.

I chew on the inside of my cheek, thinking through my options and settling on the only one I've really got-- I need to go ask someone for help.

"I'll be right back," I murmur to Sal, distracted by the looming towers of racks and displays. Yuck, this is my worst nightmare, but it's for the sake of music. "I'm going to ask someone where to find the bolts."

"Why be social when you have signs?" Sal replies with logic. I look over at his skeleton-tatted hand when he lifts it to point at the aisle signs hanging from the ceiling. "Thought you were smarter than this."

"Shut up," I gripe shamelessly, pursing my lips as I navigate my way to an aisle that has something to do with drums. I pause though and throw an insult over my shoulder-- one I've been holding back for a while. "Repaint your nails before you take another jab at me."

Sal scoffs, a little miffed but not as offended as I'd hoped. "Never thought you'd be the one complaining about my fingers," he replies, snarky and proud. I hold my breath as heat travels through my entire body. Embarrassment and lust and everything in between. He knows just how to manipulate every situation to benefit him.

I wet my lips and slow my steps a bit, just for Sal to catch up with me before I can think better of my action. His fingers brush along the small of my back, just over the waistband of my jeans. "I have the high ground, Anakin," he whispers in my ear, voice muffled and raspy.

Dammit, not the Star Wars reference. It's even worse that he's right. I dug this grave.

Doesn't change the fact he's a nerd.

He passes me up, head tilted back so he can look at the signs, showing off the lovely tattoo on his neck. It doesn't help that he's in a black tank top due to his and Larry's working on my drum kit. The flower vines and geometric tattoos on his arms are burrowing into my soul the same way they wind around his skin.

He's so pretty. I hate him.

"Look," he calls a bit farther ahead, his head turning to see if I'm near. "You needed bolts right?"

I pick up my pace to meet him, looking toward the area where he's standing. Bolts and bolts drum covers and directions of how to assemble drum kits, all that lovely jazz.

"Perfect," I purr in complete delight, grabbing onto the size I need. "Maybe you aren't good for nothing, Sally Face," I chirp for good measure even if it is sort of a low blow.

"You could just say 'thank you' like a normal person, you know?" Sal throws the words at me, tossing his hands up in a shrug that all but baits me to fight back.

"To you?" I ask, tilting my head down to give him my best incredulous look. I turn away from him and begin walking to the cash registers at the front of the store. "Never."

I think I'm imagining it, but I swear I hear Sal chuckle a bit.

I ignore it, grinning as I pay for my beloved bolts. Sal is suspiciously quiet by the time I get my receipt so I spin around, expecting to see him behind me. But he's not there. I glance around only to find him hovering near the front door, his phone pressed to his ear and a hand on his hip.

Probably Ash.

I walk over, choosing not to say anything so he can finish his call.

His eyes meet mine when I get close enough and he holds a hand out toward me, distracted as he says a quick, "Okay. Yea."

I raise a brow even if he can't see it. What is he waiting for? Does he expect me to hold his hand or something?

Oh shit, what if he does?

He wouldn't, would he? Regardless, my heart races as I gaze down at his hand and wait for further instruction. My brain is short-circuiting and I don't know what to do—

Sal folds his fingers toward his palm, pushing his hand closer to the bag I'm carrying.

Oh, that's what he wants.

Still a little confused and hocked up on adrenaline, I pass the bag to him. His fingers graze mine and suddenly I have to fight off a shiver.

Now that he has the bag, he looks away from me to finish his call, fingers gripping the plastic handles of the bag.

"We'll be back soon," he says a tad monotonously. I can faintly hear a high pitched voice reply to him— yep, Ash. Then, he snacks his lips frustratedly and says, "No, I'm not getting vodka for you and Larry. You two make me play babysitter enough." Nothing but animosity dripping from his pretty voice.

I snicker, covering my mouth with a hand in an attempt to stop myself. Sal hears anyway and he throws me a dirty look. Mmm, kinky.

Sal grumbles a couple unintelligible words, then snaps out an irritated "Bye, Ashley."

He pulls the phone away from his ear and I hiss. "Yikes," I say sarcastically, watching as he levels his dead stare at me. Whatever Ash called him for, it's set him off for the next couple hours. I wonder how much I can fuck with him within that time range?

Sal releases an exasperated sigh and pockets his phone, gripping the bag tighter. I feel my eye twitch when the muscles in his arms flex with the tightening of his fingers. I should have directed that 'yikes' at myself.

"We're picking up lunch," he tells me, shaking his head disapprovingly.

"Oh," I whisper, the word barely audible. I swallow and try speaking again, using the power of God and anime to peel my gaze away from his bare arms. I am no better than a man. "What do they want?"

"Good question," he answers, opening the door for me. How... gentlemanly. I pass through quickly, watching as he follows me out before jutting his chin toward me. "Can you look up the directions? It's some Greek place that just opened up around here apparently."

My brows furrow. "Uh, is it called Ambrosia?" I ask, thinking back on the news update I got weeks ago about a new restaurant coming to my side of Los Angeles.

Sal glances to me, eyes narrowed inquisitively. "How'd you know?"

I slowly look toward him, keeping my stare as vacant as possible. "I'm psychic," I say, deadpan. Sal has the audacity to look even more suspicious of me, so I roll my eyes and pull out my phone, searching up the directions. "Because I live here, dummy. I heard something about it when we got back from Vegas."

"For your information," Sal starts up, elbowing my arm. "I'm pretty smart."

"Okay, Todd Morrison," I scoff, smiling down at my phone. Restaurant's about a mile from here. That could be a problem. The food would be cold by the time we made it home.

"I'm serious," Sal says passionately in a pathetic attempt to defend his supposed high IQ (which, I'm sure he'd say something about that too). His voice sounds a bit higher-pitched. It's no where near Ash's shrill, but there's competition. "Before The Faces took off, I wanted to work for NASA."

That's interesting.

I look over at him, choosing to pretend the early afternoon light isn't beating down on him perfectly right now. "Really? So, you're into science?"

Sal shrugs, watching his feet the same way he did on our walk here. "Sort of. I wanted to do more of the mathematical work, though. Since there's so much we don't know about space, I figured a space station would be interested in someone who knew how to code or was familiar with physics."

I blink, eyebrows raising so high that I'm concerned they may hit the back of my skull. Sal is so reserved, never talks about his interests. I'm thankful for even the awkward beginning of this trip with him because at least I'm able to hear this about him. Had I never broken that bolt, I wouldn't be standing here having the craziest conversation of my life.

"I never would have guessed that about you," I tell him honestly. I can imagine him in a white lab coat, surrounded by other NASA scientists as he stands in front of a whiteboard full of math equations that I'd never begin to understand. He'd probably be a great teacher; animatedly explaining his work with his hands, a deep understanding and passion for the logistics of space. It's sweet to think about. Maybe he'd have been happier working for NASA, maybe he never would have had so much issues with this mystery woman. Maybe he wouldn't have had to bother with me.

Sal looks at me again and the shape of his eyes shows that he's smiling softly. I feel bewitched in the moment, captured by the beauty of him opening up to someone. Watching someone learn to trust is even more captivating than lust.

"Wanna hear something crazier?" He asks, leaning toward me. He tries to hide it, but the tone he speaks with practically screams that he's excited.

I don't fight off my smile this time as I answer him with an enthusiastic, "Sure."

"I have a degree in Mathematical Physics and Relativity, and I minored in Astrophysics."

I gape at him, thoroughly shocked and amazed. This man has a college degree? In fucking physics? "You what?" The words explode out of my mouth and Sal laughs heartily at my reaction.

This absolute lanky tank of a freak walking next to me knows more about space and math than I know about my own body. This is tragic and terrifying and so amazing. I think I could listen to him talk about astrophysics for hours.

Yea, I think I'd really like that.

I shake my head in disbelief-- at myself, at him, at the fact that I never would have guessed this about him. This goes to show just how much I don't know about Sal Fisher. "Where did you have the time for this?" I ask, fighting past my braincells who rush to figure out the mind fuck going on right now.

"I graduated last summer," he provides me with the answer I wanted, but goes into more detail. I never knew I'd appreciate an explanation so much in my life. "I was advanced in math, so I started taking college classes during my senior year in high school. After that, I went to our local college and finished everything out there. Four year degree-- I finished at 22. Here I am."

He holds his arms out as if to show me all of him, like he's proud. I nearly gush at the sight, watching his eyes light up with excitement to talk about something he enjoys. I know our relationship is the opposite of perfect, but damn, do I admire him. I had no idea of the genius hiding behind that hard exterior of his-- but it's there.

I regret talking shit about his IQ. I probably have the brainpower of a limp spaghetti noodle compared to him.

I pause my walking, forcing myself to focus on the food issue for a moment. "Okay," I tell him seriously, holding my hands out to him in a 'stop' motion. "Ambrosia is a mile walk. I doubt you want to do that, so let's catch an Uber or a cab or something. I definitely want to hear more about physics though." I didn't think his expression could lift even more, but it does. I did that. And for once, his prosthetic doesn't look so expressionless. "Hey, side note," I continue, subtly cringing. "What's your IQ?"

"Ahh," he voices, looking upward as he thinks. Oh, that's terrifying. "I think a 133 the last time I took the test. But IQ's are an inefficient way to measure someone's knowledge, so I don't like to introduce myself with that kind of insignificant number."

Yea, his explanation said everything about how fucking smart he is. I turn my head away and keep a hand up to stop him. "Don't talk to me anymore," I grumble, and I can't tell if I'm being serious or messing with him because this information really is horrifying.

"Come on," he chuckles, taking a step toward me as his head bobs with laughter. He is thoroughly amused. "I need to talk to you if we're going to get to that restaurant. And not talking is the entire reason we got into this mess in the first place."

I shake my head ferociously. "Uh-uh," I tell him, pushing against him when he walks right into my awaiting palm. I can feel his heart beating calmly against my hand. "I've been fucking a dude with a higher IQ than James Franco."

"So what?" Sal feeds into this whole charade happily. "That just means I'm hotter than him. Case closed."

"Not another word from you," I hiss, cheeks heating up from his relentless flirting. He chooses the worst times to do this-- it's always when I'm about as unstable as a failed egg drop project... now I'm making physics references. Oh, this is bad.

And Sal's interest in space explains his Star Wars reference from earlier, so I guess that's something.

"I'll leave you alone," he laughs softly. "Just this once," he adds. I can't look at him. "But we're going to walk back to the apartments and grab my car. To hell with spending more money when I can just drive."

"Aren't you a famous streamer? How is money a worry? And what happened to you not driving in LA?" I hit him with so many questions that I start to wonder if his science is rubbing off on me.

"To answer in order: yes, it's not-- I just like to save, and California is a lot more open about disabilities than small town Nockfell. Are you ready to go now?" He grabs onto my wrist for the third time today and uses his hold to force me to face him.

I pinch my lips into a thin line and warily watch him. Though, I think my nerves are needless. I don't think I've ever seen him look so light before. He seems happy for once, the emotion reflected in the brighter color of his eyes.

Maybe Nate was right. Maybe I do like Sal and it's time to stop denying it.

"...Fine," I mumble, gently pulling my arm away from him. He releases me then spins toward the way we came, gesturing to the path.

On our walk back to our apartment building, I make the best decision ever and ask Sal about black holes. The entire ten minute walk goes quickly. He tells me about all kinds of math and physics things that I don't quite understand, but it doesn't bother me much because he's so excited to talk about it. The way he animatedly explains gravity and density reminds me of the time he recited Annabelle Lee by Edgar Allan Poe. There was so much passion in his voice then, but now it's amplified to the max.

By the time we get to the parking lot for the apartments, Sal is still explaining parts of a black hole to me. I'm enraptured more by his voice than the explanation, but I try my best to follow along.

He unlocks the car, lets me get in.

"-- and there's this point at the center of a black hole, called Singularity. It's badass-- compresses matter down to the equivalent of a needle point. Actually, infinitely smaller than that. But that's where all time and space is completely broken down. Everything you are, everything you know becomes nothing the moment you face the Singularity point."

He goes quiet and shuts his door, staring at me.

I blink, beating down the butterflies in my stomach with a bat. "Damn," I murmur. "Singularity would be a badass name for a song. Such a simple name for a terrifying concept. Imagine being completely erased from existence."

"Exactly!" Sal exclaims, turning his key in the ignition, making the car roar to life. "Funny that you mention music. There's a song called Singularity by a band that Larry introduced me to when we were younger. Ever heard of Sanity's Fall?"

I recognize that name. Larry's told me about them a number of times too. "I heard about them from Larry as well," I laugh softly. "Think it's related to physics?" I ask with a tilt of my head.

Sal snorts. "Probably not." He glances toward me, a smile still present in those pretty eyes. "But we can pretend it is."

He looks away and begins backing out of the parking lot, hand on the back of my headrest. I thought asking about his interest was my best decision today, but letting him drive us to Ambrosia definitely takes the cake. The hand-headrest move will always be my favorite.

But, as Sal began driving to the restaurant, an uncomfortable awkwardness settles over us. I don't say a word, he doesn't even glance my way. I realize almost immediately that we connected today-- after saying we wouldn't connect. I think Sal's realized it, too, given his abrupt silence after going on and on about black holes for so long.

We order and pick up the food quickly. Despite me arguing with Sal about how I can pay for my own food, he bought it anyway, claiming that, "Ash told me to get food, not you."

I hate it. I hate every second. Things were so nice earlier and now it's taken a complete turn because we've realized what's going on.

Making friends sucks.

We return to our new apartments, silent the entire way up to mine and Ash's apartment. We stand as far apart as possible, too wary to even share the same air. 

Everything is unbearable to the point that I start counting the steps until we make it through the door. Even Sal in his sleeveless shirt can't entice me to spare him a glance right now. The weight of our day is just too heavy.

I burst through my front door with a relieved sigh, heaving a bag of food onto the kitchen counter. I shed a bit of my anxiety when Ash and Larry flock to the food, Larry ripping into the bag that Sal's still holding.

The man hisses when the food threatens to fall through the hole in the bag. Sal impressively chucks his keys onto the counter then grabs the containers before they can hit the ground, holding them up with a hand beneath them.

I watch him with pursed lips, turning away when his head turns toward me-- I won't wait for eye contact.

"Oh, sweetness," Ash chirps beside me in her sing-song voice, poking my arm. I turn to her with a pleasant smile to encourage her to continue. "Friday, I'm leaving for Anaheim. Got a meeting with some streaming execs. I'll be back Saturday afternoon."

I blink, letting her words marinate. "I'm gonna be here alone?" I ask to clarify.

Ash doesn't quite understand that the question was asked out of fear because she answers with an excited little, "Yep! You get to do whatever questionable shit you'd like-- just as long as you clean up."

I gulp. I don't have the heart or the lack of dignity to admit that being alone in this huge apartment seems terrifying. I mean, I should be fine. There's nothing to be scared of, especially knowing that people have to check in at the lobby to even make it into the elevators.

Yea, I'll be fine.

So I hesitantly nod, giving her a not-so-confident smile in return.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, a welcome distraction from the internalized terror that's yet to come.

I pull the device out, holding it in front of me to look while my friends flock around me to get their food.

@violove keep tagging our mother she needs to know that her bf has betrayed her @toddslefttoe @VIOLETVIOLENCE @VIOLETVIOLENCE @VIOLETVIOLENCE MOM NORTH IS A NO-GO GET OUT WHILE YOU CAN @veeveehehe he only ever wanted to hurt you bb, go fuck his bsf @ashers10 i knew he'd hurt her, i just KNEW ITTT @larbearrrr bruh i thought they were just rumors bffr???

I gape at my phone screen, quickly scrolling to see the hundreds of comments on my most recent Instagram post. They all consist of the same thing-- something about North betraying me. 

With furrowed brows, I look up at my friends. 

"Uh, guys?" I start, tilting my head as the gears turn in my head. What the fuck is going on? "People are freaking out in my comments saying that North betrayed me. Do any of you know anything about this?"

Ash mimics my expression. "I have no idea. That's... weird? Maybe someone spotted him in another girl's comments."

Oh, well, that's not bad. I don't care about him going after another girl. He and I haven't spoken in weeks. Still, I jokingly tut and reply, "Guess I'll have to start planning a SpeedBump Grave." I groan. "Men."

I smile a bit, ignoring Sal's gaze as I look down at my phone again. I'l just ask everyone to fill me in.

@VIOLETVIOLENCE guys i'm lost-- what's going on????

It takes about .5 seconds to start getting some replies in.

@lerryberryuwu @VIOLETVIOLENCE omfg you haven't heard? @toodswithoutthed MOM oh thank god you're here we need to do damage control @ashypoo99 ur never gonna guess @veeveehehe STOP BEATING AROUND THE BUSH EVERYONE OMFG. some fan leaked that sally face and DAC are working together-- THEY'RE GONNA BLACKMAIL YOU AND GET REVENGE @violove @veeveehehe no one said anything abt blackmail? they're just working on music.

Oh. So that's what it is. Maybe Sal is going to be playing guitar for a song. But this is also a leak, according to my lovely sources.

Begrudgingly, I look up at Sal who has his prosthetic lifted enough to show the bottom of his chin while he eats. For a brief moment, I wonder why he didn't just take it off, but I have to remember that it's his life. Just because I want to see him doesn't mean that he wants me to see him.

"Sal," I call out to him to distract myself.

He looks up, eyebrows risen as he situates his prosthetic back into place to listen to me.

I wet my lips and look down at my phone again, feeling my cheeks warm. "Figured I'd let you know. Everyone's freaking out in my comments because, apparently, someone leaked that you and Dark Autumn Complex are working on music together."

He curses lowly, the word full of malice. I hear his fork drop and that's when I look up-- but he's already rushing to our apartment door, ripping it open and slamming it behind him.

I watch the spot he was in just moments ago, letting the odd scene replay for a second before I address Ash and Larry.

Larry looks rattled, Ash just looks confused. 

"I'm gonna go check on him." Lar says, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "I don't think he wanted anyone to know about that."

And then Larry's gone with him.

It's not much of a shock that they're working together. They're friends; I know that. What's shocking to me though is all of my fans coming to defend me, and then Sal's reaction.

For now though, I hope that the situation gets figured out for Sal's sake. As much of an asshole as he is, no one deserves that. Least of all him.

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A/N:::: y'all i'm tired as FUCKKKKKK

i have no words. i honestly really fucking love this chapter FUCCCKKKKKKKKK x2

as always, leave some recommendations of things i can improve! i appreciate you all so much and i'm sending so much love! have a wonderful morning/day/evening/night! I LOVE MY POOKIES <3333