#this is in addition to the obvious hires we should make

[maranello]

hiring suggestions for scuderia ferrari f1:

team therapist(s)

internal communications specialist

vicious litigation lawyer to act as our representative and liason to the steward, the FIA, and Formula 1 corporation

psychic meterologist

me

[onceinawhilemoon]

The Tale of The Empty House Quest and The Power of Imagination

There's something that I haven't noticed before in the ending credits of SHCO.

The credits show Stonewood Manor in a “past vs. present” sequence. We see the rooms as they were in the past: vibrant, warm, and beautiful, before they transform into the present: dark, cold, and ramshackled.

But the present here isn't just the present; it's Sherlock’s present while he was staying in the manor, and we can see ALL THE AUCTIONED PIECES THAT WE'VE BEEN BUYING THROUGHOUT THE GAME and even that sketch of Ms. Nini's fugly thief in Sherlock's room.

Like, I did wonder how Sherlock managed to refurbish and repaint every room and make them look as good as new all by himself with just a scant few items of furniture, but I never really gave it much thought, simply attributed it to game logic and rolled with it.

BUT THAT'S THE THING. He never really did.

I did wonder how Sherlock put his hand through the lit fireplace to retrieve Mycroft's key, and didn't give it much thought either because again, game logic, but that fireplace was never lit to begin with.

To Sherlock, when he set to “refurbish” the manor–which entailed him buying whatever auctioned items he could find still being sold around Cordona because like a decade had passed–and to us playing as him as we progressed in the Tale of the Empty House quest, the house started to look warm and colorful and beautiful:

In reality, though, they were just those items that he restored here and there and everything else HE WAS SEEING IN HIS OWN MIND and the ending credits show us what the manor actually looked like while we were in it:

Which means that the entire time that we were running around the house with Jon and that beautiful soundtrack as we reminisced and lovingly renovated and decorated it with trophies and case memorabilia, we were running around that same dark, cold, decaying building from the start of the game, except for those little additions here and there...

And if you look at the restored items, you’ll notice how the family portrait is still unveiled, the carpet isn't fully rolled out, Jon’s bed isn't positioned against the wall like it should have been, and there's a covered painting atop the closet in Sherlock's room that didn't originally belong there.

Everything that we reclaimed from the shops looks messily and hurriedly put together–Sherlock is a one man after all and a very busy one–and yet, his creativity and imagination were powerful enough to fill in the rest.

All this time we spent in the “refurbished” Stonewood Manor, we were simply living inside a memory. We were in Sherlock's mind seeing a product of his imagination so vivid that it created a real sense of presence in the revived manor–as real as Jon was to him–despite the actual state of disrepair.

I don't know why it never occurred to me before. It's pretty obvious now, and it makes so much sense; there was no way Sherlock was going to find everything that was auctioned still being sold and intact (and he didn't, the items he found were like 10 or 13 tops) and make the house look like that all by himself. He could have hired people to repaint and clean and bought similar furniture, I guess, but that's just far-fetched to me. He barely even spent time in the manor to put all of this extra effort on renovations.

I sobbed uncontrollably when I realized this sgsjiwise (the ending credits already make me so weak, especially with that damned music UGH).

I don't know. There's something so bittersweetly pure about him trying to reclaim the space that was once his own with whatever minimal resources he had available. Whatever he couldn't find, he simply substituted with creativity and imagination, and that was enough to imbue the space with warmth and a real sense of home sweet home. It's almost reminiscent of the way a child plays. I think it's a beautiful testament to the power of imagination, how it has the ability to transform environments and create a sense of belonging.

And then, just like 10 years ago as if he still lived there, he went around and put up posters and trophies and memorabilia, despite knowing that he wasn't staying there for long, and that once he left, it was forever. It's like he wanted to experience what it was like living in the manor one last time, leaving one last imprint saying, “I was here.”

I wonder what Mycroft thought of it all when he came back later to check on Sherlock. He must have at least gone through the entire ground floor in order to get to the back garden, so he must have seen all the restored items and the very personal traces of his brother's short-lived presence scattered among the junk and clutter of their dilapidated old home. I imagine they starkly stood out not just because they were not supposed to be there, but because of how they were like little touches of life in an otherwise dead and quiet space that'd been dead and quiet for a long time..

I really admire how FW managed to set up the sense of nostalgia in this game. Not just nostalgia, but “vicarious nostalgia”. I kept having that wistful longing for places I haven't personally been and experiences I haven't personally lived but felt very connected to through Sherry's (and Jon's) memories and stories (there's like a German word for this phenomenon I'm pretty sure but I forgor) but I guess SHCO does tab into something for all of us, right? Childhood innocence and memories, imaginary friends, leaving your childhood home and coming back years later... There's a little something there for everyone to relate to, I think.

[morallyinept]

A full transcribe of DIETER BRAVO'S dialogue/lines from the film THE BUBBLE.

Includes full dialogue, and dialogue from any deleted/additional scenes available.

I've created this as a point of reference when writing for Pedro's characters, and I hope you find it useful. Even if you just want to read the dialogue. 🖤

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO CHARACTERS DIALOGUE

☝🏻Dialogue has been fully transcribed by myself using reference to original scripts (if available), audio subtitles and using my own two ears. Therefore, mistakes can be made, however I have tried to be as fully accurate as I can. If you spot an obvious mistake, please kindly let me know. Where audio is not clear, I have marked with *inaudible* Scenes are separated for ease of reference.

FULL SCRIPT DIALOGUE:

Hi… right.

I don’t watch my own shit. You should never watch your own shit. You just wipe, you flush and you move on. 

Yeah. Where’s your husband? 

Course. Sorry… 

Right. 

Listen, I’m sorry. I’m trying to care, but it’s hard. 

__________________

Yeah. Please. Thanks… wow. 

We’re fucked. 

__________________

Anika. I was wondering if you could help me with something. 

Do you want to have sex with me? 

Amazing. 

When? 

Great. 

__________________

AS GIO: 

Yes, but, uh, it is not news to me that Modelcorp is lucky to have hired all of you to make sure all the creatures of this land are respected and honoured. 

Five times is what I have heard. 

How does he fly? He has no feathers! 

__________________

NO! 

These cliff beasts are so large, how do they fly? How? ‘Ow? ‘Ow do they fly? 

These cliff beasts are so large! 

I just want a safe place for the dinosaurs to live! 

__________________

Where’s Ronjon? 

I said send Ronjon. 

Hold on. 

You don’t know me. 

__________________

Send help! 

Goodbye, Howie! Goodbye! 

__________________

I'm not wearing one of those, man. It’s radiation. It's EMF. Messes with my fucking brain waves. I don’t even wear wireless earbuds. 

Hey! 

What the fuck?! 

__________________

AS GIO: 

The corporation will not be happy. 

What is this? 

I am not so optimistic. What is that? 

Is that Jarrar? 

But that is his belt. 

It is so large. How does it fly? 

__________________

Pippa? Do you wanna have sex with me?

Sorry. Sorry. Gunther? 

__________________

Make me smile. Hmm… 

Change me. Change me. Change me. 

Huh? 

That’s a lot of sex. 

Kate? Are you me? 

This is creepy. But I like it. 

Yes ma’am. 

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. 

__________________

Bola, hold my hair. 

Hold my haaaaair. 

Bola. Bola… 

__________________

Every day, I eat the Kitkat in the mini bar. And then I come back and there’s a new Kitkat. I’m not giving this up! 

Hey, little girl over there. Why are you always here? 

Well then you should have said out! 

Yeah. Yeaaah. 

__________________

AS GIO:

Now I know. I must kill them all. 

__________________

Anika. You're working the night shift? 

That’s amazing. 

__________________

Oh, it takes so long to shoot action. 

Got any good notes for that, Mr Sundance?

I’m posing with my Oscar! 

__________________

But there are drugs. 

Ah, jeez. 

Yeah, but it’s worth trying. 

Everyone! Do you think that I’m worthy of Anika’s love? 

She’s twenty-seven and she loves me. And I… love her. 

__________________

You saved me. 

You are an angel. 

You do love me. 

__________________

AS GIO:

I know a better way we can care for them. Let’s put them to sleep. Permanently! 

If we get them in the reproductive organs, their hormones are toxic and flammable. 

Well, you silly little girl, looks like Gio lied. 

The cliff beasts must burn. And if all of you stand beside them, then you will burn with them! 

Cliff beasts! 

Save me! Aah!

__________________

Probably not, no-one’s getting hurt. 

Hahahahahaha!! 

Anika, you made it okay. 

I live in Sherman Oaks. 

Monkey in the bath! I don’t think he likes it! 

__________________

We’re a beast! 

This is our friend Kate. 

Come on, Kate. Come on. 

__________________

DELETED SCENE:

You don’t know me. Okay? Nobody knows me. 

__________________

How do I know you're not going to sell it to the sperm bank? 

__________________

AS GIO: 

Ah no! No! No! No! Ah-what? Nooo! Cliff beaaaaasts!

__________________

FROM THE BUBBLE FEATURETTE: THE ULTIMATE RETROSPECTIVE 2022:

I have no idea what it's about, but there are cliffs, and there are beasts. For the sixth time.

__________________

I'm so excited.

__________________

FROM THE DIRECTOR SPOTLIGHT ON SET:

He's such an almighty fuck up. And I love him.

__________________

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO CHARACTERS DIALOGUE

[ryuichirou]

Hey ryuichi, as an artist, how do you feel about Ai art? Do you think that Ai is going to replace artists? Do you think that Ai artists are real artists?

I'm curious to know your opinion on this matter.

Sorry for the late reply, Anon! I wanted to give you a more or less nuanced reply, so it took me some time to think about this topic.

I’ll start with the easy one: no, AI art isn’t going to replace all artists and it’s not going to completely eradicate art as we know it, because art doesn’t exist solely for the practical purposes. As long as people enjoy and feel passionate about making art, art is going to exist in one form or another. But that’s just stating the obvious.

And while there are people who are better or worse at coming up with prompts for the AI, as long as they don’t do any additional work based on the AI-generated image, I don’t consider it being art. I think art is about skill, taste and personality, and this simply isn’t it.

Are people going to lose jobs because of AI art? Unfortunately, it already happens, but it also doesn’t mean that artists are doomed and this is some kind of apocalypse. It’s very important to consider the scale of things, the possible developments, etc. Here are some points to consider…

First of all, if we’re talking about personal commissions and clients that opt to use AI instead of commissioning an artist for their project (or personal use), I wouldn’t say that it’s too much of a loss. I feel like this is exactly the type of clients who don’t tend to appreciate artists’ work and pay them fairly anyway, otherwise they wouldn’t even consider AI as an option. Many of these “clients” would never commission an artist anyway, so they’re not even a part of this client pool. I know that money is money, and some artists would gladly take even a low-paying job from a customer that often doesn’t treat them well (I’ve been there and speak from my personal experience back when I started to offer my commission services), but I am an idealist and think that we shouldn’t spend our time and energy on someone who doesn’t see any value in our work anyway. Not everyone has the luxury of throwing away people who pay you at least something, of course, these artists still need to eat, so that last statement remains an idealistic take from me, keep that in mind.

And if we’re talking about corporations that use AI instead of hiring artists, while it is a problem, I also feel like it’s going to backfire somehow – it kinda does already. Not necessarily in terms of the company getting backlash, but in terms of the lack of quality control over the AI art (if you don’t have any actual artists on board, how are you going to know if the art works or not?) and some other unexpected reasons that are definitely going to pop up.

AI is definitely going to transform the way we think about art and art-related jobs in general. Some jobs might get lost forever, but it happens all the time – there are other brand-new types of art-jobs that are going to start emerging out of thin air. Just like photography and Photoshop influenced the market and art in general, AI is going to do just that.

I’ll note that I don’t think companies are going to stop using AI altogether at any point of the near future though; it’s a very powerful and cost-effective tool, there is no way they are letting it go. AI is absolutely here to stay, and it’s going to evolve and become better and better, scarily better. But this is how I think we should approach it:

People whose work is used for the AI’s learning pool should abso-fucking-lutely give their consent to their work being used, or even better, be compensated for their participation. If there is a new AI that makes a point out of the participation in the learning process being voluntary and well-paid, I think it’d change the dynamic between artists and AI – so far it’s just stealing from them.

Ideally, AI should be used as a base and not the final product. Actual artists could get inspired by it during the brainstorming stage or work over it.

Whoever posts, produces or distributes content that was created with the help of an AI, should absolutely mark it accordingly. In my perfect world, there’re going to be laws about this lol In general, the whole thing needs to be reflected in law, so far it’s way too easy to abuse.

Not only marked, AI generated images should be banned from being sold lol You can press that button and type all the key words all you want, but the result is just a free image that anyone can use and cannot be monetized. I believe this final point would make the majority of AI users just abandon their desire to use it in general – if there’s no profit for them, they’ll drop out, and AI art can be used as a tool like it’s supposed to be.

As you can see, I have avoided saying that people who use AI art are “artists” because I don’t consider them artists. If they don’t transform anything and don’t bring anything new to the table, I, the most important person on this planet, will refuse to give them that title lol

As far as I know, actors and writers have achieved some guarantees against the use of AI during their strike..? I haven’t looked into it, so I don’t know. Also please, keep in mind that I’m mostly talking about illustrations, because this is what I do. AI affects other types of art too, and there might be nuance there that I’m not mentioning here.

In general, I don’t want to demonize AI, because I feel like it’s not a problem on itself, it’s the way people use it that’s brings problems for all of us. This is a very new technology, and we don’t know how to handle it just yet mostly because for the lack of the law system regulating it, this is why there are so many opportunities to abuse it.

Also also, when the novelty of the AI art wears off, we might end up with the resurgence of appreciation for “real human art” or something. We are waaaaay too prone to nostalgia not to go “god I miss it when actual people designed logos” one day, and believe me, whenever it happens, the companies are going to market their stuff as the REAL HUMAN ART by the REAL HUMAN PEOPLE so much that we’re going to get sick of it in 5 minutes lol. But hey, maybe it’ll end up being a reason to pay artists more.

Thank you for reading such a long reply! I don’t want for my blog to turn into a discussion board, so sorry in advance if you address this topic in future asks to give me links or examples and I won’t reply to you, but it depends on the number of asks. I’ll look through everything on my own.

[greycappedjester]

Update News

So, I think I can return back to a semi-normal schedule.

Next chapter of Department of Mysteries should be out next weekend and that should mark the return of an every-two-week schedule.

Thanks for your patience. Here's a sneak peak (not edited yet, subject to small changes, etc.):

Ministry Education Changes Report Early Success!

Minister Daishou’s education reforms, introduced at Hogwarts this year, are already reporting progress.

For the last few years, Hogwarts has faced mounting public pressure after a number of disastrous hiring decisions by the Hogwarts Board of Directors, most notably led by Headmaster Ukai. In addition, many have claimed that our country’s premiere school has fallen woefully behind in safety standards, including a rash of petrifications three years ago from a still unknown cause and--of course--the tragic kidnapping and death of a student last year during the Triwizard Tournament held on school grounds. 

With some even calling for Headmaster Ukai’s resignation, Minister Daishou answered public pressure and instituted new reform measures. This includes Ministry pre-approval of curriculum and hiring decisions, starting with the war decorated Auror Minaho Ono taking over for Defense Against the Dark Arts this year.

These measures are already being heralded as a success, as the Prophet learned in our exclusive interview with Deputy Minister Kuroo.

“Children are our future,” the Deputy Minister said. “And we had the Ministry understand that the most important part of making them thrive is providing a safe environment where they can focus on their education and leave the messy politics for the adults. After all, the last thing that belongs in school walls is politics.”

When asked about new professor Minaho Ono, Deputy Minister Kuroo had this to say.

“Oh, she’s doing brillant already,” he told us. “Of course, it’s a challenge catching up the students after years of Headmaster’s Ukai’s, well, less well considered hiring decisions. However, we are hearing every evidence that she’s been mentoring the students wonderfully, a result we should see come with the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s this year.”

On student adjustment, Deputy Minister Kuroo wasn’t worried. “The students love the changes. In fact, I’ve been hearing from my son Tetsuro that the students are even hoping that the Ministry is allowed to do more in the upcoming--”

The newspaper caught on fire and rotated in a rather ominous flaming orb above Kuroo’s wand.

“Now, I definitely never said that,” Kuroo commented. “Think I can sue for libel?”

“The paper or your father,” Suga asked. “Either way, legally yes; practically no. I don’t think any barrister’s going to hear your case.”

“Bloody practicality,” Kurooo muttered in a tone of someone deeply shackled by the coils of the mundane.

“Anyone else vaguely concerned that the Prophet’s being even more obvious that they’re the Minister’s little lap dog.” Oikawa poked at the ashes that Kuroo had finally let drop. “I wonder what they’re wanting for treats. The Minister better watch out for his pant leg.”

Iwaizumi snorted. “Can’t believe they’re our only real paper.”

“They didn’t used to be.” Suga sighed, fiddling with his silver and green tie. “A lot of other ones were around before the war; but, they went out of business or, well, were put out of business by the Ghosts. The Daily Prophet was always the most…circumvent about their criticisms of the Giant.”

“And to the cowards, go the spoils,” Kuroo mock toasted. “Too bad, I heard some of the old ones were golden--especially the cartoons.”

“Oh yeah, they’re awesome,” Bokuto brightened. “Great Aunt Ena’s still got some Mad Bats preserved in the attic!” 

Iwaizumi quirked an eyebrow. “Mad…Bats?

“It was kind of a satire strip about, um….oh,” Suga’s eyes went to the Great Hall’s entrance. “That’s Daichi. I need to go talk to him about our Muggle Studies project.”

“Don’t you have class in like,” Kuroo checked his watch, “twelve minutes?”

“It’ll only take a bit,” Suga said distractedly, already heading for the door.

The group went back to their breakfast.

Bokuto made a weird twitch movement with his jaw.

They ignored it.

He did it again a few minutes later.

They continued to ignore it.

Bokuto lifted his toast as if he was going to start scraping it across his mouth.

Iwaizumi whacked him on the arm. “You’ve gotta quit doing that. Professor Takeda nearly called you out in class because he thought you, like, accidentally transfigured your teeth or something.”

“But, it’s itchy!” Bokuto complained, sticking out his tongue and poking at it…which didn’t really make anything look less weird. “Why didn’t Matsukawa and Hanamaki tell us the leaf was going to be so itchy?”

“Because they’re sadists,” Oikawa said reasonably.

Iwaizumi laughed. “What he said.”

“Look, just drink some hot tea or something. It helps, promise.” Kuroo shoved some at him. “We only need to make it like a bit more than two weeks.”

“That’s a lot!” Bokuto pouted.

“Just distract yourself,” Iwaizumi told him. “Weren’t you going to talk to Akaashi? How’d that go?”

“I haven’t done it yet,” Bokuto mumbled.

The rest looked at him.

“What? I’m still thinking about what I want to say,” Bokuto said. “It’s scary! I don’t like this. Talking to Keiji shouldn't be scary; it’s Keiji.”

Before they could respond, Suga dropped back to his seat. “Sorry about that.”

“Figure out the project,” Iwaizumi asked.

“The project?” Suga tilted his head. “Oh, yeah, we did. I think we know exactly how to go about it now. Anyway, how’s everyone else’s classes going?”

Under the table, Kuroo kicked Oikawa in the shin. 

Iwaizumi shrugged. “Fine, I guess. Really the only one that’s a hassle is Defense.”

Kuroo kicked Oikawa again and Oikawa turned to glare at him. Kuroo met his eyes before looking discreetly at Suga’s neck, then back at Oikawa.

“Oh, the patronus? Yeah, I’m not making progress with mine either.” Suga fiddled with his tie again, the colors red and gold.

Oikawa’s eyes lit up with unholy glee and he looked back at Kuroo. Kuroo smirked.

“Wait, why are you worried about patronuses already?” Bokuto asked. “She said we’ve got to the end of the year.”

“I know, but we’ve got the rest of our N.E.W.T.s then, too,” Suga said. “Do you really want to worry about both of them at once.”

Bokuto shrugged.

Meanwhile, unnoticed by the others, Oikawa and Kuroo were doing their level best at achieving spontaneous mental communication through eye contact alone.

“The Herbology N.E.W.T shouldn’t be too bad,” Iwaizumi said. “Professor Shimada’s got us working on cross-pollinating our own hybrids so it should be mostly done by the time they review them for the exam.”

Oikawa glanced at Suga then back at Kuroo, tilting his head in a question. Both paused before simultaneously shaking their heads.

“Yeah, I’m not that worried about Arithmancy either,” Bokuto said. “I mean the main thing with that is meeting Professor Yamiji’s publication timeline. Compared to that, the exam’s gonna be easy.”

“Sounds like it won’t be too bad, then.” Suga gathered his bag.

“Yeah, probably because we aren’t crazy enough to take seven classes,” Iwaizumi deadpanned.

“Right, how is that going…,” Suga trailed off, finally catching Kuroo and Oikawa whispering to each other. “What are you two doing?”

“Nothing,” they both answered quickly.

Suga blinked.

“What were you saying, Suga,” Oikawa distracted him.

“I was just asking how you’re class schedule’s going,” Suga said.

“Oh, that. Fantastic,” Oikawa gave a thumbs up. “Invigorating even. Nothing to worry about.”

“...Okay.” Suga stood up. “Well, speaking of class, I better get going. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“We’re wonderful,” Kuroo agreed, throwing an arm around Oikawa’s shoulder. “Better hurry to class, though. Don’t want to be late.”

Oikawa beamed. “Absolutely. Have fun!”

Suga shook his head and walked away, deciding to ignore his two friends’ decidedly weird behavior. He probably shouldn’t have known better.

[bloodgulchblog]

WHAT HAPPENS IN HALO: OUTCASTS, ZITA?

Hot damn, I haven't done one of these in a while.

Let me get this written down for you while it's still fresh...

(As usual: I cannot guarantee I present events that are happening in the same time in different places in the order the book does, but I do promise the gist of the thing)

Outcasts happens in November of 2559, which is after the destruction of Doisac and before the events of Halo Infinite begin.

Cortana's forces are occupying Sanghelios and attempting to police the population, which makes the Arbiter's position suck out loud: he can't directly confront Cortana without winding up in the same position as Atriox with Doisac. The Sangheili have been trying to figure out what to do without Cortana finding out about any of their plans.

There are also some humans on Sanghelios, among them Spartan Olympia Vale. Vale has become a personal friend to the Arbiter in addition to an important diplomatic contact. (She is pre-emptively sad about how bad it's gonna turn out once the Arbiter finds out the extent to which ONI has fucked him over over the years, but also: Thel actually knows more than she thinks he does and that's kind of fun.)

Anyway.

After a very tense traffic stop by some of Cortana's troops on his way back from a big important Kaidon meeting (this is the part that N'tho 'Sraom and Usze 'Taham are around for), Thel has a vistor: an Oath Warden named Crei 'Ayomuu. Oath Wardens are hired guns who enforce contracts, either by scaring the noncompliant party into following through on their end, or by bringing back their head. This is considered highly dishonorable work and nobody likes Oath Wardens. Thel is not a fan either.

'Ayomuu, however, is here because he has some important information about the contract he is pursuing: a human xenoarchaeologist (Keely Iyuska) who specializes in pre-Forerunner civilizations (or, you know, what trace scraps of those exist) agreed, in exchange for funding, to give 'Ayomuu's client first pick of whatever she finds on a planet the Sangheili call N'ba.

To make a long story short, N'ba is what we would remember as Netherop from Halo: Oblivion. It is a miserable desert world that did have evidence of weird alien technology, but nothing too earth-shattering.

...But the evidence also suggests something far, far more important might be on Netherop: A weapon. A powerful, ancient weapon that once was used to kill a Guardian.

It is, obviously, very important that this not fall into the wrong hands. Cortana is also actively hunting for this human, and Cortana's hands would absolutely be the wrong ones.

It's time to get over working with an Oath Warden and get on the case.

Meanwhile, Vale is also finding out about this elsewhere. She's hearing it straight from the horse's mouth, because Iyuska is an old university acquaintance and is reaching out to Vale for help because ONI may be in fucking shambles after Cortana destroyed Bravo-6, but there are enough pieces still working and she knows Vale still has contacts. And they prrrrooooobably should not let Iyuska's client (or anyone) get their hands on this thing she is pretty sure she's discovered.

Vale agrees, and they set off to the one planet you know makes it a Troy Denning Halo novel: Gao.

In Oblivion the UNSC found a pack of feral children (the descendents of space pirates) on Netherop and those children wound up founding a settlement somewhere in the jungle on Gao. Vale wants to find someone who has been to Netherop before to advise on this mission. She and Iyuska make their way in by pretending to be medical researchers investigating a new prion disease that is infecting people on Gao. (That part is happening on Gao, by the way.) The cover falls apart pretty quick because the locals are deeply suspicious and because Vale is.... a Spartan-IV out of armor, and that shit is kind of obvious.

Luckily things don't turn to violence, though, because they are broken up by Rosa Fuertes. This is the character we knew in Oblivion as local Netherop feral youth leader Roselle. (She changed her name to try to avoid ONI tracking her or something and... honey... you are gonna have to try a lot harder than that.) She was like 20 in Oblivion so now she's like 50, and is herself wasting away from the prion disease. She agrees to go with Vale and Iyuska to help with whatever they're doing, but on the condition that ONI continues to leave her family the fuck alone.

Meanwhile, the Arbiter has snuck off Sanghelios (leaving his most trusted guys to cover for him and pretend he's home for as long as possible to throw Cortana's surveillance off the scent) and gone to Netherop. He has some help from two kaidons for this endeavor: 'Talot and Varo'dai. 'Talot is an old ally of 'Vadam and pretty traditional. Varo'dai is a lot more interesting: She (yes she) originally came from Saepon'kal.

This is some Shit No One Remembers Halo lore, so here's the tl;dr: The first time we ever heard of a NOVA bomb (you know, a planet cracker) was the time in First Strike where Admiral Whitcomb left one as bait for the Covenant to find. The Covenant, not knowing what it was, took it back with them to a fleet rally point. In Ghosts of Onyx, a Huragok accidentally set the bomb off by poking at it to trying to figure it out. This blew up most of that particular Covenant fleet, and there was much rejoicing.

...The planet this happened over was the Sangheili colony world of Saepon'kal. The damage from that big of an explosion shattered the moon and soon enough rendered the surface of the planet uninhabitable.

Varo'dai is kaidon of a new colony world, because she was instrumental to saving tens of thousands of Sangheili. She's a very cool character concept, I kinda wish we saw more of her, but by god if you want an excuse to think about cool Sangheili women you've got her and her handpicked all-female rangers who turn out to be some of the most competent people in the book. (Again, don't get your hopes up too much, they're just kinda there as set dressing. Varo'dai gets to be cool occasionally, but her rangers are the most characterless side characters and please do not buy this book just for the lacroix water flavor of Sangheili women being cool. I just... feel compelled to point out that this is the closest we are probably ever gonna get to Sangheili lesbians.)

Honestly, she's mostly there so we have an excuse to see the Arbiter tell off 'Talot for not treating her with respect because Thel 'Vadam confirmed feminist king.

The Arbiter's party makes it down onto Netherop first and encounters.... another returning Oblivion character: Lieutenant Commander Petrov.

Petrov and a handful of her soldiers were marooned on Netherop at the end of Oblivion because Roselle sabotaged her in order to ensure that Roselle and her gang of feral youths would get to leave the planet instead.

Petrov has, over the last thirty years, made this situation completely fucking insane and on the one hand it's so stupid that my disbelief can't handle it, but on the other hand it's kind of amazing? Petrov's people have continued to fight the war with the Covenant, but on Netherop "the Covenant" is just a literal handful of Sangheili holed up in the tel (ruins of an ancient alien underground city) with the ancient alien superweapon and an apparently infinite supply of food.

That's not the insane part.

The insane part is that the humans had a shit ton of kids expressly for the purpose of "making more soldiers" to fight the Covenant with.

And we thought the Spartan program was fucked up...

Thel manages to prevent his allies and Petrov's weird little unit/family from trying to kill one another and does enough diplomacy with Petrov to be on rough speaking terms.

...Meanwhile Vale, Iyuska, Rosa, and a shit ton of ODSTs try to insert onto Netherop. Most of the ODSTs are killed when their dropships are exploded by a MYSTERIOUS ALIEN SLIPSPACE DEATH BEAM, but the Owl with Vale and friends aboard is built for stealth so it manages to survive landing.

Vale doesn't expect the Arbiter to agree with her about what they're doing here, but he is an honorable man and figures if the UNSC finds the MYSTERIOUS ALIEN SLIPSPACE DEATH BEAM first he will, as a man of honor, let them have claim to it. But also, he's gonna do his damnedest.

Thel and his gang of fellow Sangheili have an advantage because the marooned Sangheili aren't automatically hostile to them, so they go in the obvious way while Vale and friends and ODSTs find a way to dig into the underground city instead.

The marooned Sangheili believe that this is the sanctum of the gods and Nizat 'Kvarosee, their leader, is the most strong of faith so he is the best at weilding the super weapon and used it to destroy those ENEMY HUMAN SHIPS.

Thel's team and Vale's team make their way through the tel, fighting the marooned Sangheili (Thel manages to recruit the former Silent Shadow Ra'ashai to his side, 'Talot and his warriors die) and investigating how the hell this place works. Iyuska determines that the whole place seems to run on extremely advanced nanotechnology, which the marooned Sangheili have become very attuned to (shown by how the place adapts to their desires and needs, creating food they can eat and clothing them and of course giving them control over the MYSTERIOUS ALIEN SLIPSPACE DEATH BEAM.)

Rosa gets separated from everyone (originally because the marooned Sangheili captured her) and has a weird moment with some mysterious voices that call themselve The Nothing and insist that she cannot tell anyone they exist, ever. As a prize for this, she wins having her prion disease magically cured somehow.

(Yeah, it's weird, I don't know either.)

Also, while all of this is going on, Atriox is in space overhead. The book thinks it's slick about Atriox secretly being the one who funded Iyuska's research, but it kind of plays that hand too strongly so you know it's Atriox and it's not a surprise. While the ground team is working on securing the weapon, Atriox is attacking everybody's ships. Nobody downstairs finds out for a long while due to comms blackout.

Thel and Vale's teams finally wrest control of the MYSTERIOUS ALIEN SLIPSPACE DEATH BEAM from the marooned Sangheili and one of them ('Kvarosee's lackey Tam 'Lakosee, did I mention he was also in this one?) shows Thel how to use it just in time for them all to figure out holy shit, the Banished are attacking! The beam detects what you think of as your "enemies" and smites them, basically, so Thel worries about whether his mixed feelings about human involvement here might imperil the human ship.

He shouldn't have worried about it. Thel zeroes in on the Banished and a Forerunner ship he knows is going to report to Cortana. 'Lakosee is horrified that he is attacking a SACRED FORERUNNER SHIP, and grabs for the controls in retaliation. End result: EVERYBODY'S big spaceships get blown up: human, Sangheili, and Banished.

Everyone is fucked, they have a matter of hours until Cortana's forces arrive and Banished insertion craft that weren't destroyed are already on the way down. The gang debate about what to do with 'Kvarosee and 'Lakosee, who are both in rough shape. When they refuse to re-integrate with the Sangheili because they believe that Thel and his entourage are clearly godless apostates, Thel and aforesaid entourage leave them to rot.

Iyuska disassembles the MYSTERIOUS ALIEN SLIPSPACE DEATH BEAM, which is unfortunate timing because that really would've helped with all these Banished.

They have to go out and meet/probably fight the Banished, and also figure out what the fuck to do with this superweapon. Thel kinda hates it and Varo'dai's suggestion of the humans and Sangheili each taking one of the two important pieces (a sample of self-propagating nanomachines, and the focusing lens) might be a good idea, but he is a man of his word: the humans did reach the weapon's chamber first when they were fighting their way in, so he will let them have it. Vale, despite it all, is genuinely surprised but okay sure.

....But then Vale gets an idea.

What if they just... give the Banished the weapon? The weapon seems to have pretty much destroyed Netherop's own civilization by being used here, and it would be difficult to impossible to set it up usefully as an offensive weapon. Give Atriox what he wants, and maybe everyone will be able to get off the planet.

(Because it turns out: there are some UNSC slipspace-capable craft that also survived the MYSTERIOUS ALIEN SLIPSPACE DEATH BEAM so it's fine.)

They parley with Atriox, blah blah blah shock and betrayal it turns out that Atriox was secretly employing 'Ayomuu through Atriox's Sangheili lackey this whole time yadda yadda, Atriox ends up leaving with space dust and a focusing lens he probably can't use but he hasn't figured that out yet, at least everyone gets to go home. (???) The most important thing here is that Rosa and Petrov have A Moment to resolve the fact that Rosa caused Petrov to be marooned. Petrov forgives her.

(There's also a chapter of how fucking bad Sloan is doing, you remember Sloan? AI? Meridian? Fenris Dragon Age voice? Anyway, he joined the Created in the hopes of integrating with the Domain and surviving Rampancy, but something about that... doesn't really work with his architecture. He's looping badly, and kind of AI dying. But not yet, not quite yet...)

A lot more stuff happens and there's lots of details scattered through here (some are fun, some are dumb, you know, it's Halo). It 100% does not advance the main universe plot at all, and what the fuck are the Nothing????

But... it was nice to see our guy Thel 'Vadam.

[fayeandknight]

I went to check out another house today and oh boy was it a doozy.

It was originally built in 1881 and I could see from the photos that it was not habitable. But it sits on a half acre in an area I'm interested in. Also I can see the charm in the bones, so to speak. Like a half circle window with built in seating, which to me shouts book nook.

I brought my dad because he's knowledgeable about construction and built our family home from scratch.

Got there and it was immediately obvious that this place is way worse than advertised. The second story all season room looks ready to fall off, there's foam patching along sections of the underside of the roof, porch looks like it'd drop you faster than you could curse, etc. It would be a massive undertaking to make it livable.

But the yard is fairly level and partially fenced in from the neighbors. It's set a decent distance from the road and has ample space from neighbors on all sides. This is big for me because I intend to board dogs (through my current job) and I don't want to piss off neighbors with barking dogs.

And while this isn't a basis to buy such a house on, something about it calls to me in a way I haven't experienced before. More on this under the cut because it's spiritual woo woo talk.

When I do a drive by, I literally drive by. I cruise through the neighborhood and take my time. But I don't go up to the house. However between this place clearly not being occupied and my dad having older white dude audacity, we got out and walked around the yard. We went all the way around the house, he pointed out a test patch where someone investigated the siding and it's layers, stomped on the dilapidated porch, and found a well with a hand crank.

At one point I was standing close to the road while he was on the porch reading orange town issued notices posted on the front door. A guy working for the house across the street stopped to stare at us. My dad gave a friendly wave, the contractor returned it, and despite my fears of the cops being called on us, nothing happened.

I thought initially this might be a place that I buy, spend a few months of heavy sweat equity on and hire a contractor or two for major things. But ultimately could make livable while continuing to fix up within three months or so. In addition to major interior work, it needs rewiring/electrical work, a plumbing overhaul, a new roof and gutters, new siding, a new porch, new windows, and most likely just tearing off the all season porch at minimum. So yeah just a fuck ton of work.

My dad and I agreed that this place was pretty far over our ability to renovate. But something makes me want to dig into it deeper anyway. While I highly doubt this place will turn into anything for me. I'm going to look into possible financing options. And I've set my dad to contacting the listing agent and the county office to see what's up.

My next step is digging into a renovation specific loan, the FHA 203k loan. Even though this place probably won't pan out I think it'll serve as a good test run of what I'd need. Cause let's be honest between the current economy and housing market, whatever I end up with will need work.

I don't typically talk about this, but I am pagan and consider myself a spiritual person. And while I don't see the mystical in the mundane everywhere, when I do I, I do.

When I hesitantly stepped onto the property I got a sense of the house. It's got a presence. Something quiet, mostly dormant, and not a little resigned to being torn down. But it's deep, having grown out from the house itself and into the ground around it. It felt like it cracked one eye half way open to regard me. It was very tired. But it also conveyed a feeling that if I restored it, it would be my house.

It would not only protect and shelter me like a good house should. But it would make sure I was happy there. It would pull on its deep connection to the land to make sure this was a place I thrived in. If I invested in it, it would invest in me with the shared goal of quiet, simple joy.

No bombastic promises of glory or great success. But a secure space to sing off tune while I bake bread. Sunny windows to dry herbs in. And love ingrained in the archways of architectures no longer in fashion.

It's not something I'm willing to use as a reason to immediately go all in on. But I'd be lying to myself if I didn't admit that it's part of the reason I'm investigating what it would take to make this place a home.

[foggyfanfic]

The Wedding Gift

Oneshot Preview: Juan's ears turned red and he frowned again, “I’m not complimenting you, this is just fact. If I measured your facial features the math would back me up.”

“I mean, it’s ok if you are complimenting me,” Mirabel said.

“Well, I’m not. Your face is mathematically sound. That’s all there is to it.”

Summary: As Mirabel gets to know one of the men from the village, she tries to figure out if he likes her for her, or because she's a Madrigal.

Words: 15.7K

“Oh! Mirabel! Perdon señor, uno minuto,” somebody called, Mirabel turned to find the voice and was surprised when the guy manning the bean stall waved her down, “Señorita Mirabel, do you have a bit of time?”

“Sure, yeah, what uh, what’s up?” Mirabel said, hoping to hide the fact that she did not remember this guy’s name at all. He was maybe a year or two older (or younger) than her, she vaguely remembered seeing him on the playground back when they were children. She was pretty sure. They may have even exchanged polite words at a party once. Possibly.

“It’s Juan,” he said, a little dryly. 

“Right. I know. Of course I know. Juan, what can I do for you?” Even as she spoke her eyes ticked over his face for some distinguishing feature she could attach the name to. But there were none, his nose was flat, but not especially so, his hair was black with very normal brown undertones, his skin wasn’t especially light or dark, his head neither very round nor very angular nor very square. Ultimately, his face could best be described as a face. No additional adjectives necessary.

Juan very clearly did not believe she knew his name, but instead of being annoyed he gave her a rueful smile and said, “It’s fine. Pretty sure my parents couldn’t have chosen a more generic name if they’d actually just named me ‘generic’.”

Mirabel chuckled, a little sheepishly, “I probably would remember that better.”

“Maybe I should change my name to that, is that the sort of thing we’ll be able to do at this new-fangled city hall?”

“Yeah, actually, it is,” she said, “although it might be a while before we set up a procedure for that sort of thing.”

In the past nine years since the miracle was reborn, Mirabel had slowly come to the realization that one of Abuela’s problems was the fact she was doing the job of at least three people. Emphasis on the “at least”. Abuela had acted as the de facto mayor of the Encanto since its inception, which probably wasn’t that bad back when Encanto was a handful of refugees. Now though, now their village was edging ever closer to being a small town, and having a one woman town government was not an option. It took a bit of research, and a lot of talking to people, but Encanto’s City Hall was under construction, and Mirabel was currently running around trying to recruit people to run for the city council.

“Well, when you do I may just be the first in line,” he leaned on the little bit of counter that wasn’t covered in baskets of beans, “but believe it or not, I didn’t interrupt your day to talk about how forgettable my name is.”

“Of course, yeah, what do you need?” She stood up a little straighter, she was doing her best to take as much work off Abuela’s plate as possible so Abuela could focus on prepping the newly elected mayor. They wanted the transition to be as smooth as possible.

“I wanted to hire you for a commission.”

Mirabel actually jolted a little out of surprise, “You- what?”

“A commission, an embroidery commission,” he said, clarifying when she just stared at him, “my sister’s getting married soon and she’s really into fashion so I figured for a gift-, well, one of your pieces might be the obvious choice, but they don’t call me generic for nothing.”

“Oh.”

“Do you-? I completely understand if you’re too busy. You can say no.”

“No, no, it’s not that, I’d be happy to uh to make your sister’s gift,” Mirabel said, quickly. She decided not to tell him she was just surprised to have her embroidery acknowledged. It wasn’t like she lived in her familia’s shadow anymore, but people were a lot more impressed by her communication and leadership skills than her skills with a needle and thread.

It felt surprisingly good to have a spot light shined on this particular talent.

“Oh good,” he smiled, “no offense to the town tailors, but everything they make is meant for function, I really want to give her something that’s actual art.”

Mirabel felt her face heat up, and it was all she could do to keep her smile pointed up at him instead of smiling down at her shoes, “I-, that’s-, thank you. That’s very nice of you to say. What uh, what did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know, something in her favorite colors I guess?” he shrugged, “I have no idea how you artist folk come up with ideas, so I kinda have to trust your judgement on this one. What’s a good design that says ‘Yay, you’re in love’?”

Artist. He called Mirabel an artist.

“Um, a heart, maybe? Or I can ask Isabela to lend me her flower dictionary, I could probably embroider a bouquet that means true love and good blessings and stuff. What were you thinking of putting the embroidery on?”

“One of our Má’s old blouses, my sister loves that thing and Má has been planning to fix it up and give it to her for ages. Figure this is as good a chance as any.”

“I’d have to see it to get an idea what designs would look good on it.”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense. You free for dinner? Around six? She’ll be eating with her in-laws tonight, so we wouldn’t even have to be sneaky.”

Mirabel thought about her schedule a little, slowly starting to nod, “Sí, I can do dinner.”

“Great, let me write down my address for you,” he turned away, quickly scribbling on a piece of paper then handing it to her.

She laughed when she looked at the piece of paper and all it said was, “It’s the house right behind me.”

“Cute,” she told him.

“I can write down directions if you need me to,” he shrugged.

“Hm, gee, I think I might be able to find it myself.”

“You sure.”

“Pretty sure, yeah.”

“Well that’s good, because I can’t think up a good follow up joke,” he grinned a little sheepishly.

“This one is good enough to stand on its own,” she said, neatly folding up the paper and putting it in her pocket.

“Gracias, I’m here all week,” he replied, leaning on the counter again, “except for tonight, when I’m at dinner. See you at six?”

“Yeah, see you then,” she chirped, before practically skipping away.

An artist!

—

A little less than a week later, Mirabel flipped through her sketchbook, lips pursed as she considered the designs she’d come up with for Juan’s sister. She couldn’t decide which ones she liked best. 

Sighing, Mirabel looked up at the clock. If she walked fast she might be able to catch Juan before he went home for the day. The bean stall wasn’t one of the market stalls that rotated vendors. Like a lot of the other staples, it was in the market five days a week, which meant Juan was in the market five days a week.

Dinner with him and his parents had been alright, but Mirabel had been surprised by how quiet Juan had gotten once his parents were at the table. It wasn’t an upset sort of quiet, more like every time she started to talk to him, he would redirect the conversation so his parents could take over. He seemed pretty friendly in the market, but when he was home he suddenly became-, well he was still friendly, he just didn’t talk much. 

With her sketchbook in hand, Mirabel walked through town, being sure to wear her “busy face” to make it less likely somebody would try to stop her for a favor. She reached Juan just as he was carrying the last basket of beans into the storage shed between the stall and his house.

“Juan, hey,” she called out, trotting the last few steps to his side, “you got a second?”

“Technically, I have forty-three thousand seconds, but I have to fit dinner, sleeping, and breakfast in there,” he said, then grunted as he placed the basket of beans on a sturdy looking shelf. Mirabel quickly glanced away from his arms as his biceps flexed.

“Oh,” Mirabel wasn’t sure how to respond to that, “well uh, you mind sharing a few of those forty-three thousand seconds with me?”

“Do you want any specific seconds, or would just any do?”

“I was hoping for the next few uh hundred? Thousand?”

He cocked his head, eyes narrowed but unfocused, “That would be about sixteen minutes.”

“That should be enough, I think? I just want you to look at my ideas for your sister’s blouse.”

“That I can do.”

“Right, great,” Mirabel got her head back in the game, “here, I know you said you were going to trust my judgement, but I want your input on the design. I just can’t pick my favorite.”

Juan quietly took the proffered sketch book and flipped through her ideas. He carefully considered each one of them. When he was done, he went back to the first one and started again.

“Something wrong?” Mirabel asked.

“No,” Juan said, not looking up.

She waited for him to finish looking, then when he seemed ready to take a third pass, prompted, “What do you think?”

“I think I see why you can’t pick your favorite,” he said, continuing to stare at option one, “these all look really good.”

Mirabel blushed, even as she rolled her eyes, “Thank you, but that doesn’t help me make a decision.”

“No. I suppose it doesn’t.”

He idly turned the page and stared at option two for as long as he’d stared at option one. Mirabel waited for him to say something else, something helpful. He turned to option three and stared at it as well.

Mirabel cleared her throat, he looked up at her, still silent.

It took her a second to figure out how to politely rephrase the question in her head, “Which would you choose?”

“All of them,” he said, then turned back to her sketchbook.

“Putting all of them would make the shirt look gaudy.”

“Oh. Would it?”

“Sí.”

“Only some of them, then.”

“You are zero help.”

He snorted, then nodded, “You are correct.”

Mirabel shook her head as a chuckle bubbled past her lips, “How about I go calculate how much each one would cost to make, then come back and we try this again?”

“Oh, that’s a good idea,” he perked up, and finally handed her the sketchbook back, “I’ll come with you. Where do you get your thread?”

“Uh, Lucia’s,” she said, jabbing her thumb in the direction of her preferred fabric store, “but you don’t have to do that, I’ll honestly probably be there for hours. We’ll blow right past the thousand second mark.”

“Does it take that long to find the right thread?” He looked simultaneously startled and impressed.

“Meh, it’s more that I’m friends with Lucia. And her back room is where the sewing club meets.”

“Ah, so you’ll be chatting,” he nodded, “will I also be required to chat?”

“A tiny bit, I mean, when I drag my Tío Bruno along everybody is fine with him just standing sorta awkwardly next to me. Unless Jo brought Adelaide, then they talk about something called NASA.”

“That’s what I’ll do then.” He started walking in the direction she’d pointed, and Mirabel trotted after him so she could take the lead.

“Stand awkwardly next to me? Or talk about NASA?”

“The first one.”

Mirabel huffed out a surprised laugh, “Do you hate talking that much?”

“No, I just do it all day,” he shrugged, “I handle numbers quick, so it just makes sense to have me run the stall, but I’m not-. I would prefer if it was just me and the numbers, and maybe a few people like you.”

“Like me?”

“Yeah, you know, people who are-,” he cut off and made a vague hand gesture, he actually reminded her a little of her Tío Bruno when he did that, “people who aren’t draining to talk to. People that make you feel more energetic, not less.”

“Oh,” Mirabel glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, “uh, thank you?”

A frown flittered across his face, then he said, “I didn’t mean that as-. You're welcome, but I’m not trying to be nice. It’s just the way it is.”

“Uh, pretty sure it’s pretty subjective actually,” Mirabel said, “in my experience feelings always are.”

“It’s not a feeling, it’s probably science.”

“Science?”

“Sí, I bet all your smiling does something to people’s brains. Like caffeine,” he nodded along with himself, “Or maybe your voice is just the right frequency to help people wake up, like sunlight.”

“You think… my voice sounds like sunlight?” she asked slowly, trying not to laugh.

“Well, obviously not literally, but I think your voice makes people feel more awake, like sunlight does.”

“Right, and uh, do I smell like laughter?”

“Now you’re just being preposterous.”

Mirabel couldn’t help but giggle, “I don’t think it’s science, I think you just enjoy my company.”

He huffed, “Everybody enjoys your company, and there’s probably a scientific reason for that too.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, really,” he stopped walking so he could narrow his eyes at her, “maybe you give off pheromones.”

Mirabel couldn’t help but laugh outright at that, “I do not!”

“You might,” he insisted, then pursed his lips, “or it could be psychology. People like things that are pleasant to look at. You are pleasant to look at and covered in art. Ergo, people like being around you.”

“Pleasant to-. Are you saying I’m pretty?” She didn’t know whether to be flattered or laugh some more.

“If that’s what you want to call it, but it’s hardly scientific, now is it? You are well proportioned and symmetrical,” he sniffed, continuing on his way. Mirabel followed him, trying not to be too amused at his expense. 

“Well, thank you,” she eventually said.

His ears turned red and he frowned again, “I’m not complimenting you, this is just fact. If I measured your facial features the math would back me up.”

“I mean, it’s ok if you are complimenting me,” she said.

“Well, I’m not. Your face is mathematically sound. That’s all there is to it.”

Mirabel blushed, despite how much she still wanted to laugh. Who talked like this?! It seemed Juan genuinely believed what he was saying, but it was also possible he was choosing to put the moves on her in the weirdest way possible. He wouldn’t be the first guy to make a pass at her. Hell, she’d even gone on a few first dates that went nowhere.

If this was his way of making a move, he got points for originality.

“Well, I’m going to choose to be flattered and say thank you,” she declared.

“I’m just being logical,” he grumbled, and she swallowed another laugh.

By the time they got to the fabric store he was done pouting, and instead seemed prepared to stop and read every price displayed in the shop, whether it was connected to their project or not. Mirabel left him to it, she wanted to ask Lucia about how her recent trip to the city went, anyway.

The conversation took at least half an hour, and when she turned to look for Juan, he was standing in the corner, examining the thimbles.

“Are you bored?” she checked with him.

“Not at all,” he said, “take your time.”

“Are you sure, I don’t have to chat with-.”

“No, Mirabel, please, I mean it. Take your time, have fun, don’t ignore your friends on my account,” he said, putting the thimble down and giving her an earnest look.

“Ok, then I’m going to slip into that back room there and see if anyone from my sewing club is in today,” she pointed the door out to him, “come find me if you need me.”

Mirabel peaked her head in through the door and was pleased to find three of her friends in the room. Katrina, or Kat, sat at the table, cutting out a pattern for a new dress. Meanwhile, Josephine, or Jo, and Jo’s best friend Adelaide sat on the couch, Adelaide holding half of Jo’s latest project in her lap so it wouldn’t drape on the ground. Mirabel greeted them all enthusiastically and asked how they were doing. After twenty minutes, Juan slipped up next to her and quietly took the sketch book.

“Hey Adelaide,” he said.

“Hey,” she said back, voice quiet enough to be a whisper.

“Hola Señoritas Josephine and Katrina,” Juan nodded at each of them in turn.

“What? I don’t get a casual ‘hello’?” Jo asked, with a friendly grin, “Is this because I ditched astronomy club?”

“Sí,” Juan said, while Adelaide nodded.

“Astronomy club?” Mirabel asked.

“Not a real club,” Jo explained, “but Adelaide loves astronomy, and Juan loves math, so they-. What’d you guys do again?”

“Adelaide takes measurements of the bodies in the night sky, and I use those measurements to calculate the answers to questions she had about them,” Juan said.

“Yeah, the only part I have in it was making Addy a quilt based off some of their science stuff that one time,” Jo shrugged, “actually, you guys helped with that, remember?”

A quilt based off “science stuff”. As far as descriptions went, it was severely lacking. Josephine came up with brilliant projects for their club to do together, but there was a reason she always drew them out on a sheet of paper.

Before Mirabel could ask for more information, Juan told her, “You embroidered pictures of all the constellations. With gold and silver thread.”

Adelaide snorted, just a quiet huff of air through her nose, for some reason she was giving Juan a look that was almost, almost, hinting at being amused.

“Oh! That quilt! Sí, I remember,” Mirabel nodded happily, “that one was really fun. I didn’t realize you were involved.”

It had been fun, Jo had brought the idea to their sewing/fiber arts club, a quilt that was an accurate depiction of the night sky on Adelaide’s birthday. While Jo did most of the work, she had gotten Mirabel to help with the embroidery, Kat and Suzane had helped with some of the more tedious stitching, and Lucia had made some beautiful button stars. They had spent three months working on it together then invited Adelaide to a meeting so they could present it to her over cake. Adelaide was the quiet sort, never one for big expressions, but she had cried and even hugged each of them. The whole thing was a very fond memory for Mirabel.

“He did all the calculations by hand,” Adelaide said, “isn’t that impressive Mirabel?”

Juan gave Adelaide a look, his ears bright red, while Adelaide focused on Mirabel, making very steady eye contact for a woman that... well. Let’s just say Adelaide got along really well with Tío Bruno.

Mirabel watched Juan very closely while she said, “Yeah, that actually is pretty impressive. I can’t even imagine how complicated that math would be.”

Juan tensed up, looking anywhere but at Mirabel, “It’s not-. Numbers aren’t that complicated, it’s just most people have better things to do than sit around and play with them.”

“Mirabel complimented you Juan,” Adelaide said, and she was definitely smirking just a little.

Juan shot her a glare, then said in an almost normal voice, “Thank you Mirabel. You are too kind.”

“Oh, I don’t know if I’d call it a compliment,” Mirabel said slowly, “you’re smart. It’s just the way it is. In fact, it’s probably science.”

Juan looked at her, a little startled, “It’s-. That’s not how science works.”

“No, no, I think it is,” she pretended to think for a moment, “maybe it’s pheromones.”

Adelaide actually giggled, Juan shot her another glare.

“I see how it is, well fine, if the two of you are just going to gang up on me, I’m going go play with my true friends,” he began walking away, the sketchbook hugged to his chest, “numbers.”

Mirabel watched him go, then as soon as he was out the door, turned back to Adelaide, “So am I reading this right?”

“How long has Juan had a crush on Mirabel?” Jo asked at the same time, grinning from ear to ear.

“Are you going to go for it?” Kat asked Mirabel, then shrugged, “He’s kinda cute, in a plain way.”

“I don’t know,” Adelaide said, seemingly answering Josephine’s question, “his sister told me about it a few days ago.”

“I-,” Mirabel hesitated to tell Kat she wasn’t sure in front of Adelaide, it seemed like Adelaide and Juan were close, “I want to get to know him better. And, you know, actually hear from his own lips that he’s interested in me.”

Mirabel had discovered the hard way that her life did not have room for any games. She needed somebody blunt, who could tell her what they wanted without making her guess. The closest thing she’d had to a relationship had fizzled out because the guy kept trying to play it cool while Mirabel was just trying to juggle her many interests and commitments.

“That’s smart,” Adelaide said, back to her usual almost whisper.

“You think so?” Mirabel asked, she’d sort of expected Adelaide to press the issue on her friend’s behalf.

Adelaide nodded, face giving away nothing.

“If you don’t go for it, I might,” Kat said with a shrug, “he seems stable.”

“Does he, though?” Josephine asked, “He gets flustered easily.”

“Flustered easily is way better than angered easily,” Kat shrugged again, “trust me.”

Mirabel placed a quiet hand on Kat’s shoulder. She had recently broken off her engagement to her school yard sweetheart, who had quit being so sweet once he discovered a love of tequila.

The conversation moved on to other things, eventually Mirabel separated herself to see if she could find her sketchbook and the man who took it. When she did, she waited a while to announce her presence, instead she watched him scowl at two nearly identical colors of thread for a few seconds. He did seem stable, safe.

Mirabel hadn’t spent much time thinking about romance, not until she reached her twentieth birthday and suddenly every Má, Tía, and Abuela in town were throwing their single sons, nephews, and grandsons at her. Even now, she wasn’t sure if it was romance she was thinking of, or just marriage. Romance was what Dolores and Mariano had, marriage was what Isabela and Mariano almost had. It was an important distinction.

She wanted both, well, technically she wanted kids and she wanted romance, so marriage seemed like the right way to go.

The problem was, Mirabel wanted somebody that let her be herself. That didn’t seem like it’d be hard to find, Juan was half right, everybody loved being around Mirabel. But that was because Mirabel was a leader in the community these days. All those first dates that went nowhere, went nowhere because it was clear that the guy was on a date with Señorita Madrigal, not Mirabel. She was proud of what she had done for their town, proud of the ways she’d stepped up and grown in the past nine years, but she still wanted space to be imperfect.

Would Juan get that? Did he understand Mirabel was human, not just a Madrigal?

Only one way to find out, she decided, clearing her throat as she approached him.

“First you and Adelaide ganged up on me, now I’m being defeated by the color red,” he said in greeting, “it would seem I am very bad at going to craft stores.”

Mirabel laughed a little, “Why is the red defeating you?”

“Which one of these goes better with the little blue flowers you’ve drawn here,” he held the two spools of thread up to her sketchbook so she could compare.

“Uh, well,” she tried to say it as gently as possible, “neither of them. That’s not embroidery floss.”

“Embroidery-? Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Mirabel. I am absolutely abysmal at going to craft stores.”

“Ah, you’re not that bad,” she took the chance to awkwardly pat him on the shoulder, “I don’t think it’s something a person can be good or bad at, really.”

”And yet, here I am.”

Mirabel looked down at the two threads, “Here, put these down, and I’ll show you where the embroidery section is.”

“This is why I’m trusting your expertise,” Juan sighed, following her.

“Did you look at the other supplies? Pretty sure I have everything but the right sized hoop.” 

“Well, thread was supposed to be the last thing, but clearly I can not be trusted,” he shook his head, “my numbers are probably all wrong.”

“Oh, I’m sure you did fine,” she said. But she was wrong, Juan did not do fine, she couldn't fathom why he thought she would need so many needles, even after he repeatedly insisted it was better safe than sorry. Furthermore, he could not be trusted to color coordinate his socks with his shoelaces, much less an entire embroidery project. By the time she’d collected all the thread she would need, she had a pretty good idea why he always wore beige.

He had enough money to buy the thread and hoop right then and there, so he did, plus a couple of embroidery needles.

“In case yours break or get dull,” he’d said, when she once again tried to talk him out of buying her more needles.

“I mean, I have a lot of extras,” Mirabel had argued, feeling a bit bad that he was paying for everything. Even if this was, technically, a commission.

“Well, now you’ll have two more.”

He walked her back to Casita, and she tried to pull more information about himself out of him, but he only seemed interested in talking about her.

When she asked about his day, he deflected. “Oh, I just sold beans all day, nothing interesting. What’d you do today?”

When she tried to connect with him by letting him vent, he downplayed. “Bah, sure, sometimes customers can be a bit testy, but I’m sure I’ve never dealt with any problems like building a town government from scratch. How’s that going?”

And when she desperately tried to learn more about his interests, he dodged. “Meh, I don’t really have any hobbies, what about you? I know you also make the occasional stuffed animal, and play the accordion. Anything else?”

When they parted ways at the front door Mirabel once again found herself watching him go, thinking about the differences between romance and marriage. She was moderately sure they both required knowing a bit about your significant other.

Shaking her head, she decided it might not be meant to be. Juan was handsome and nice, but if he wouldn't let her get to know him, they could never have a real relationship.

Pity. He had some nice arms.

—

“Hey Mirabel, the bean guy’s here to see you,” Antonio called, poking his head through her door.

“Oh, Juan? Uh, send him up,” Mirabel said, over her shoulder. She was sitting on her floor, trying to come up with a rough budget to get the town’s new government started. Spread out around her was every bit of information she could find on Encanto’s financials. It was, to put it mildly, a lot.

“You sent for me?” Juan said, knocking politely on her door while he walked through it.

“Yeah, uh, you’re good at math, right?”

“Sí?”

“Great, I need a budget,” she held up a list of all the infrastructure repairs planned for the next year with one hand, and the estimated tax revenue with the other, “I’d ask my Pá but he’s busy helping the merchants work out a-. I guess that doesn’t really matter. He’s busy, and I can’t figure this stuff out.”

Juan joined her on the floor without a word and began looking over the various paperwork. After he had been reading for a while, it became obvious that whenever he finished reading something, he sorted it into one of two piles. She sat patiently, a part of her worried that if she spoke or moved, she’d scare away her numbers guy and be stuck with the evil budget. Instead of moving, she just watched him.

Eventually, she started to notice little details that escaped her the last few times they'd spoken, like the mole on the shell of his right ear that almost made the ear look pointed. His eyelids were naturally very hooded. He had very little stubble on his jaw line, but a fair amount on his chin and extending down from his sideburns, which were currently trimmed to a perfectly average length.

“Have you ever thought about growing your sideburns out?” Mirabel suddenly asked, surprising herself.

He paused, a list of improvements the village wanted to make to the church hovering over the farther pile, “My side burns?”

“Sí,” she plowed on, ignoring the burning in her cheeks, “it looks like you could.”

She reached out and traced her fingers down the stubble to indicate what she meant. He turned to look at her and Mirabel slowly drew her hand back. For a few seconds neither of them said anything, then he chuckled.

“Uh no, I’ve never thought about it, I’ve always trimmed them,” he shrugged, “I’d probably look real goofy with giant sideburns and no beard.”

“Well-. Ok, you would,” Mirabel leaned back on her hands, “but I always thought if I could grow facial hair I’d have fun with it. Like Camilo can’t grow a full goatee, but he could technically grow a goatee in the shape of a question mark, but he refuses cause he thinks it’ll look weird.”

“Hm, tell you what, you spend a day with clown makeup on, and I’ll grow out my sideburns,” he said.

“I’ve already done that,” Mirabel pointed out with a grin, “my Pá and I pretended to be clowns for my nephew’s birthday last year.”

“Oh. Well. Guess I’ll have to grow out my sideburns then.”

“Really?”

“I said that I would.”

“Even though you’ll look goofy?”

“Meh, what’s my pride worth,” he shrugged, “hopefully not as much as my word.”

“Oh, very profound,” Mirabel chuckled, “I might embroider that on a pillow.”

“If you do I demand you give me the pillow, that is probably the wisest sounding thing I’ll ever say,” he said, “I need to remember it and share it with my grandchildren.”

Mirabel nudged his shoulder with hers, “I’ll put it on a handkerchief for you. That way you can have it in your pocket wherever you go.”

“Genius,” he breathed, “absolutely genius.”

He turned back to sorting the paperwork, after a moment more of watching him, Mirabel stood and walked over to her sewing desk. She got out a leftover scrap of soft, blue fabric, scissors, some needle and thread, an embroidery hoop, and an embroidery needle. She opened her drawer of embroidery floss and debated the colors she had to spare, after a moment, she grabbed a deep teal that she’d used to shade the water on a beach themed project a while back. Mirabel sat back down next to him, and got to work making a handkerchief.

They sat on the floor, working in silence, for what must have been an hour before he requested some paper and a pencil.

“Do you want an abacus?” she asked, rummaging through her desk for a good pencil that still had an eraser.

“Don’t need one,” he said, carrying not just his sorted piles, but her crafting supplies over to one of her sewing tables, “although I do enjoy playing with the little beads.”

Mirabel chuckled, but admitted, “Yeah, me too.”

She placed the paper and two pencils down in front of him as he set up the piles of paperwork how he apparently wanted. Mirabel picked up her hoop and the newly hemmed handkerchief. They went back to working in silence for a little.

“So, you like math?” Mirabel eventually asked, rolling her head around to ease the growing stiffness in her neck.

“I know, not very exciting,” he chuckled sheepishly, “and not always as useful as being able to sew.”

She had to smother an eye roll at the way he insulted his own interests. It reminded her of some of her more frustrating conversations with Isabela, who occasionally relapsed into trying to be perfect, or Bruno, who was just generally pretty down on himself.

“Most hobbies aren’t exciting to the people who aren’t into them,” Mirabel pointed out, “and it’s clearly very useful, because you’re here helping me.”

“Sí, but I don’t use anything other than basic arithmetic for actual practical stuff,” Juan pointed out, “most of the fun math is for sailors and scientists.”

“So why not be one of those?” She let humor color her voice, she knew as well as he did that he didn’t want to live anywhere other than Encanto. Their town may have had some problems, but not nearly as many as the rest of the world. Better the bean guy, or gift-less Madrigal, in a loving paradise than a captain on cold, apathetic seas.

“Oh please, could you imagine me sailing a ship,” he rolled his eyes, even as he humored her.

“Hm, not right now, but maybe once you grow out your sideburns.”

He laughed, the sound seeming to take him by surprise. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, then apparently gave up and just shook his head, chuckling.

Mirabel considered her handkerchief, she was halfway done with the phrase, and she could already tell it was going to be pretty bland. The other end of the handkerchief needed something to balance it out. She took some of his unused paper, tore off a shred, and slid it in front of him.

“Write down your favorite equation,” she said.

“Um, ok?”

“Trust me.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, writing a collection of Latin symbols and parenthesis on the scrap paper.

“What is it?”

“It’s a quantum physics equation,” he said, “uh, speaking of things that are not useful, it’s a new realm of study. Relatively new, I mean. It’s only about as old as our parents. This one has to do with uh Einstein’s thoughts on quantum entanglement.”

Mirabel cocked her head, plumbing the depths of her memory for when she helped purchase new books for the library, “That’s something to do with atoms being connected, no?”

“You-?! Sí! Well, close, particles being connected. Not necessarily atoms,” he said, “I’m surprised you’ve heard of it.”

She shrugged, and in a blithe voice said, “You’re not the only genius in the room.”

“No, because that would be you.”

“Oh come on,” she groused, she was getting kind of sick of him putting himself down.

“I’m serious,” he said, “look at that. You just made that, out of nowhere, in the time it’s taken me to read a few lists and stuff.”

“That’s not what I-,” Mirabel hesitated, she had only hung out with Juan two times before this, she didn’t want to get too personal.

“What? Not what you what?”

Then again. Maybe if this were nine years ago, Mirabel would have been more patient about this sort of thing, but it wasn’t nine years ago. Mirabel had spent the past almost decade dealing with her Tío Bruno’s self loathing, and she’d found that “being patient” with things like this didn’t do much to solve them.

“Why do you keep putting yourself down like that? You’re not going to burst into flames if you admit you’re impressively smart,” Mirabel said.

“Oh,” Juan looked down at the paperwork, eyes clearly staring right through it, then he shrugged sullenly, “I uh I just don’t want to give off the impression I think I’m better than anyone.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” Juan grimaced sheepishly, “I used to try to impress people, y’know, with how smart I am, but uh it just kinda made folks think I’m an arrogant asshole. So now, I don’t do that. I do the opposite actually, it seems to work better.”

“So you don’t actually think you’re an idiot.”

“No, not really, but bragging about how I can calculate the Earth’s distance from the sun based off some shadows doesn’t make people like me.”

Mirabel examined him for a minute, turning what he’d said over in her head, “So do you mean it, you know, when you compliment me? Or is that just to get me to like you?”

“It’s- both? Or, ugh, ok so this isn’t me putting myself down, but I am so much better with numbers than words.”

“I mean, you’re putting yourself down a little.”

“I know, but it’s also me complaining, so it doesn’t count,” he said. She did roll her eyes this time, but let him have this one.

“Well you don’t have to answer right away, you can think about it for a minute,” she offered, putting a hand on his arm.

He smiled at her, and seemingly accepted her offer, eyes going unfocused for a few minutes. She waited patiently, hand still on his arm.

“I know that a lot of people know how to sew, I know that not a lot of people know how to do math like I can,” he said slowly, “but uh, I had a lot of time to think y’know back when I was driving people away by trying to impress them. Common skills are common because people need them, because they’re genuinely useful. There might be a whole club dedicated to your art, but that’s because your art creates something people can use everyday. It’s not just that I don’t want to seem arrogant, I also don’t want to seem like I don’t appreciate what you can do. Like I take your skill set for granted.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that you can compliment me without insulting yourself?”

Juan started to say something, but froze halfway through the first letter of whatever word he was planning to start his sentence with. He pressed his lips together.

“Has it ever occurred to you that you could compliment me without insulting yourself?!”

“It is entirely possible I am only this good with numbers because my brain isn’t storing any other information,” he said, quietly.

Mirabel snorted, gently swatting his arm before taking her hand back, “I wouldn’t say it isn’t storing any other information, you seem to have a good memory.”

He nodded slowly, “Sí, all the better to remember every time I’ve embarrassed myself.”

“Everybody embarrasses themselves,” she said.

“Name one time you’ve embarrassed yourself.”

“Only Madrigal grandkid without a gift.”

“That doesn’t count, at worst it’s because that candle was a moron,” he waved her statement off. She giggled at the idea that a candle could be stupid, but decided she didn’t want to get into the whole miracle thing at that moment.

“I fall off of things a lot,” she said.

“Oh please, you-. Huh. You do, don’t you?”

“I really do.”

“That does make me feel a little better,” he gently nudged his shoulder against hers, “I mean, if even the great Mirabel Madrigal could fall every once in a while.”

“The great Mirabel Madrigal,” she scoffed.

He shrugged, “You have accomplished 30% more in your time on this earth than everybody else in the village. Except your Má and Abuela, of course.”

She felt her cheeks burn, “What? I have not. How would you even-?”

“Calculate it? Simple, an accomplishment is anything that takes work, and one is proud of when they’ve achieved it,” he said, “so a lot of your embroidery projects count as accomplishments. I am also counting giving birth and raising the child to adulthood as accomplishments (which is why your Má and Abuela are beating you). And that’s the sort of accomplishments that most people in the village have. But you’ve also modernized Encanto’s school curriculum, gotten new books for the library for the first time in decades, created a system where people can privately ask for help when they’re struggling to make ends meet, and now are setting up a new town government. Keep in mind, of course, that each of these accomplishments come with additional sub-accomplishments that must be accounted for-. What? Why are you smirking at me like that?”

“Nothing, I just had no idea you were paying so much attention to me,” she said.

“I’m not,” he argued, blushing, “not anymore than anyone else is.”

“Oh please, my own sister doesn’t keep track of all my projects like you apparently have,” granted, that was mostly because Isabela had gone from planning her wedding, to being pregnant, to being a new mother in very quick succession. All things that tended to monopolize a person’s attention. But still.

“That’s-. Adelaide talks about you a lot.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes. Really. Of course she does, you’re one of her favorite people.”

“Oh. Really?”

“Oh. Yes, really, she thinks you’re pretty great,” Juan said, “I know she can be really quiet but uh, if you get her one on one she tends to open up a bit more. Whenever we’re working on some astronomy project she talks about you, Josephine, Suzane, and Katrina a lot.”

“Huh, I had no idea,” Mirabel idly picked up the handkerchief and continued working on it, “I actually have been meaning to spend more time with her, anyone that gets along with my Tío Bruno has to be interesting.”

“Ay, she never shuts up about him,” Juan chuckled, “to hear her tell it, he’s the second funniest person in the village.”

“Whose the first?”

“I’d like to say me, but honestly, I think it’s whoever she has a crush on,” he shrugged, “but neither she nor Josephine will tell me who that is.”

“Ah,” Mirabel nodded. She didn’t have anything else to say, so she just kept sewing. After a few seconds, Juan picked his pencil back up and kept calculating.

He ended up staying for dinner, where he barely said a word. He seemed perfectly content to sit next to her in silence, listening to the conversation around him, but not adding anything. Considering that Tío Bruno was sitting on her other side, doing the same thing, it made it easy for Mirabel to dip in and out of the conversation without seeming rude.

When he left, Mirabel handed him the handkerchief. He stared at it with something bordering on awe.

“It’s just a handkerchief,” she said.

“It’s a Mirabel original,” he argued.

“You came up with the words.”

“You made them better, smoother,” he read it out to her, “May my pride never be worth more to me than my word.”

“That’s basically what you said.”

“I’ll keep it on me at all times,” he said, “can’t promise I’ll use it, but I’ll probably look at it twenty times a day for at least the next year.”

“I didn’t make it so you’d look at it,” she shook her head.

“Maybe not, but one does not wipe their brow with the Mona Lisa.”

That had been too much praise for Mirabel, face burning she had wished him a good night and fled back into the safety of Casita.

—

“You are never allowed to make fun of me for Bubo again,” Isabela said in way of greeting, pushing Mirabel’s door open without so much as the notion of knocking.

“Oh, hello Isabela! Please, come on in. No, no, no, don’t worry about knocking,” Mirabel said sarcastically, not looking up from the flowers she was embroidering, “I don’t ever want privacy or anything.”

“Seriously, the bean guy? You’re dating the bean guy?” Isabela asked.

“Still better than marrying Bubo,” Mirabel grumbled, “and I don’t know yet. He’s nice, but I’m not sure if, y’know, he likes me because I’m me, or because I’m a Madrigal.”

Isabela paused, then sighed, chuckling ruefully, “That right there is exactly why you’re not allowed to judge me for being with Bubo. She- He loves me for me. For the parts of me I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to share with the village.”

Mirabel’s hand froze, reluctantly she admitted, “As annoying as his machismo is, I do like how happy he’s made you.”

Isabela glanced at the open door, then closed it, “The machismo isn’t real. I- he’s not like that when he feels like he doesn’t have to be. It’s like how I used to try to be perfect, y’know; there’s more to him than he pretends there is.”

“In that case, can you tell him to knock it off? Or at least pick a different facade?” Mirabel huffed. Bubo had been getting better, calming down, acting more genuine. Mirabel had actually started to like her brother in law. Then his son was born and suddenly it was like somebody cranked the machismo up to eleven.

“I can try, but… let’s just say there’s a very specific reason he’s chosen this one.”

Mirabel made an unimpressed sound and continued sewing. She had figured something was going on, the way Bubo almost seemed to panic that one time Mirabel and Luisa had caught him with some of Isabela’s lipstick on his lips screamed Issues. But this family had gotten a literal crash course about why you needed to work through your issues rather than bury them, so Mirabel had a lot more patience for his pain than his pretenses.

“But seriously, the bean guy?”

“Maybe. I haven’t decided yet,” Mirabel repeated, “why?”

“Oh, because he’s downstairs with a gift for you.”

“What? Isa,” Mirabel hissed, hurriedly standing, “and you just left him waiting down there?”

“Oh he’s fine, I left him with Tío Bruno. They’re both kinda weird, I figured they’d have a lot to talk about.”

Mirabel rolled her eyes and rushed out her door.

In the courtyard below, Tío Bruno was struggling his way through a polite conversation with Juan, “What about plays? Do you uh, do you enjoy the theatre?”

“Um, one time I took a trip into the city to watch my favorite physicist give a lecture on his latest theorem,” Juan replied, “that’s sort of like a play, no?”

“No. B-but I mean! Uh. It um it sounds interesting?”

“Oh it was! How much do you know about light physics?”

“Um. Oh! Mirabel! Hola, you have a guest,” Tío Bruno stood abruptly, ignoring the loud crack of his bad knee, “he uh, he brought you math.”

“Math?” 

“Adelaide said you might wish to see it,” Juan also stood, shrugging a little sheepishly.

“You’re friends with Adelaide?” Bruno asked, more like gasped. As if Juan had just revealed he had a third arm under his shirt.

“Sí, she has me do all her astronomy calculations for her.”

“Oh, ok. So that makes sense,” Tío Bruno said, putting a lot more emphasis on the word “that” than he probably realized. He looked between Mirabel and Juan a few times, then asked Juan, “What about fiction? Do you like fiction?”

“Not really.”

“And you don’t sew? Paint? Origami?”

“No, no, and no.”

“Hm, alright?” Tío Bruno glanced between them a few more times before abruptly walking away, “Bye.”

They watched him go.

“Adelaide said he wasn’t scary,” Juan huffed, “the liar.”

“He’s not scary,” Mirabel immediately jumped to defend her uncle.

“Oh sure, maybe not in the way everybody says he is, but I don’t think he likes me,” Juan shook his head, pouting just a little bit.

“Oh! No, that uh, that’s not what dislike looks like on him,” Mirabel shook her head, chuckling a little, “if he disliked you, he would have sat in the corner over there and stared at you, silently, until you got uncomfortable and left.”

“Like a grumpy cat?”

“Sí, but don’t tell him that, he prefers rats.”

“Wait, the rat thing is true?”

“Yeah, the rat thing is true.”

“I can see why Adelaide looks up to him.”

“Does she like rats?”

“No, she likes people who are nice to rats though,” he shrugged, “and spiders. And anything else people usually call vermin.”

“Ah, yeah, that’s Tío Bruno,” Mirabel chuckled, “anyway, you uh, you brought me math?”

“Oh, uh, sí,” he twisted and picked up a notebook he’d left behind on the couch, “it’s-, I uh, I calculated how much thread you’ve likely used in the past year.”

“What?” Mirabel gasped, surprised to find herself genuinely excited by that, “No way. How?”

“So you uh, told Adelaide how many spools of thread you used on her quilt, right? And she told me, and I wrote it down, and recently I measured the length of each stitch-.”

“Why?”

“Adelaide wasn’t giving me any numbers to play with,” he shrugged.

Mirabel giggled, “What?”

“She brings the quilt with her whenever we do astronomy club, right? Well, the other day we went out and she got really fixated on Saturn for some reason, but wasn’t giving me any data, so I got bored and started measuring your stitches.”

“Alright?”

“So, each of your stitches is about a fifth of an inch, and they max out at 2,000 stitches per square inch when you’re doing a full picture with shading,” Juan said, handing her the little notebook, “assuming you do the same amount of embroidery on each quilt, mind you, these are only preliminary calculations, for accurate numbers I would need to look at all of your projects in the last year, but! Using Adelaide’s quilt to calculate the amount of thread you use per square foot of cloth, factoring in that most of your embroidery is done on your own shirts and skirts, and keeping in mind that you sometimes do line art, or three dimensional things like your butterflies… about 1.5 thousand yards of thread.”

Mirabel gaped down at the notebook, slowly looking over the numbers, “I had no idea it was that much.”

“That’s honestly a very modest estimate,” he said, “I would need to go digging through your closet to get you a better number. Which would be a weird thing for me to do.”

She chuckled and nodded, but didn’t take her eyes off the little booklet of numbers, “Wow.”

“Yeah, so uh, that’s what I got,” Juan said, and when she looked up at him he was rubbing at the mole on his ear, “sorry to uh interrupt your Saturday afternoon with this, but Adelaide thought you might find it interesting.”

“I do! I absolutely do,” Mirabel answered, putting a hand on his bicep to reassure him, “thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome,” he said.

She watched, almost contemplatively, as the color rose in his cheeks the longer her hand was on his arm. Lately, Mirabel found herself growing fond of his face, even if it was a bit nondescript. She enjoyed talking to him, and made time to stop and chat with him whenever she was in town. Mirabel had gotten in the habit of checking in with her feelings since Casita fell, and lately whenever she checked her feelings, there was a new affection for “the bean guy”.

“I’m working on your sister’s shirt,” she said, slowly pulling her arm back, “would you uh like to come up and sit with me?”

“I would,” he nodded, “if you don’t mind?”

“I wouldn’t ask you if I did.”

“Sí. Right. That makes sense,” he chuckled following her as she led the way to her room. When they got there he stared at the shirt and new embroidery, eyes practically glowing with admiration, then he nibbled on his lip and slowly reached for her measuring tape. After checking her face for permission, he measured a few of her stitches.

Mirabel withheld a laugh, and waited until he was done, then sat on her couch and continued to sew. He sat a respectful distance away from her, scribbling in his notebook.

She liked this. She liked the quiet companionship of working on their hobbies next to each other. She liked that she felt relaxed with him, calm, at ease, like she didn’t have to be Señorita Madrigal.

Mirabel’s parents had told her their love story a few times, as parents tended to do. When she was a little girl, she’d thought it was the most romantic thing ever. Her father had fallen for her Má first, his constant need of her arepas giving him plenty of reason to think about her. Her mother had fallen for her Pá slowly, starting when her Pá commented on a new recipe her Má was trying. It wasn’t even that he’d complimented it, it was just that he had noticed when nobody else did, that he had paid attention to the work she put in, not just the magic he got out of it. Eventually, they started dating. Then they decided to get married, only for Abuela to initially disapprove of the match. Abuela had since said it was the grace and maturity with which Pá handled the rejection that changed her mind. Abuela’s approval earned, they got married, and the rest was history.

As a child, on the very rare occasions that Mirabel had contemplated falling in love, she’d of course hoped to follow the template of her parent’s story. However, now that she was an adult, she knew that any man her mother disapproved of likely wasn’t a good man.

Now that she was an adult, she had very different thoughts about what she wanted. Not just out of love, but life in general.

Mirabel wanted kids, she wanted free time for her hobbies, she wanted a busy schedule, she wanted noisy family dinners, she wanted quiet Saturday afternoons. Mirabel wanted to help her community like her Má and Abuela, but she had long since discovered she didn’t actually enjoy being treated as a Sainted Madrigal. 

Whereas Mirabel had once wanted somebody to see the parts of her that were special, now she found herself hoping for somebody that saw the parts of her that weren’t.

Was she being realistic? Ungrateful? When she was younger, she had done everything she could to feel like A True Madrigal. Now she was considered the quintessential Madrigal and she wanted to feel like Just Mirabel. Was it possible to achieve a balance of the two?

“You’ve sighed twenty-one times in two minutes,” Juan suddenly said.

“Oh, sorry,” she felt her cheeks warm up, “just thinking.”

“Anything that you wouldn’t mind sharing?”

“Um, I don’t know if-,” she cut herself off, she wasn’t sure that he would understand, but she knew people didn’t like being told that. Actually, most of the villagers didn’t like being reminded that the magic family they’d placed up on a pedestal was full of real people.

“Does it have to do with the new town government?”

“Heh, not this time. And I’m told that if I’m thinking too hard about all that, I start growling,” she said, a bit sheepishly.

“Hm, is it a family matter?”

“No, no, the family is fine.”

“Is it a people thing?”

“A people thing?”

“Yeah, you know, how most people all kind of suck a little,” Juan said, shrugging, “you work so hard to not suck, I’m guessing dealing with people who don’t bother trying to be decent is extra tiring for you.”

Mirabel let her embroidery fall into her lap, and stared at him, letting that sentence revolve around her brain until she had picked out the part that had made her feel a little warmer, she repeated it back to him, “I work hard to not suck?”

“Don’t you?” he asked, and it sounded like an honest question more than he was defending his statement, “I suppose you could have been born as decent as you are, the human brain is such a mysterious machine. It is possible you could be, for lack of a better word, hard wired to be kind.”

“I do work hard at it. I just-,” she paused, trying to figure out how to phrase what she wanted to say. Was it weird to thank him for assuming she wasn’t born a perfect paragon and had to actually try to be a good person.

He waited.

Mirabel watched him wait for her, watched him for any signs of impatience. There were none.

Finally, she said, “I was thinking about the pedestal my family is put on by some of the other villagers.”

“Ah, sí, that,” he nodded, “I apologize for that.”

“Why? You don’t seem to-.”

“I think I do though,” he shook his head, “I’ve been thinking about your response to my theory that people like you because of science. The way you very cruelly laughed at me, that is to say. On reflection, it’s more likely I have you on a pedestal because you’re so kind and talented.”

“Or because you have a crush on me,” Mirabel pointed out without thinking. She immediately grimaced.

Juan froze, then he got very red, “What? No I don’t.”

“Right, yep, sorry, don’t know why I said that,” she immediately said.

He didn’t respond at first. She watched him as his eyes zipped back and forth beneath lowered brows.

Juan suddenly stood and started pacing.

“I do not have a crush on you.”

“Mm-hm.”

“That’s-. No. No I do not.”

“Of course, we can forget I said that,” she said, but Juan was still pacing, scowling at the ground. Every once in a while, he shook his head.

Suddenly he stopped, “I don’t have a crush on you, you’re just especially pretty.”

“Um.”

“No, I know how that sounds, but hear me out,” he held up a finger as if asking for one moment, “You are an especially pretty girl, I am a young man. It is only natural that I would spend this much time thinking about you.”

“Right,” Mirabel said slowly, not wanting to argue with him.

He scowled again, paced a few more laps, then said, “And the reason I think about you more than any of the other pretty girls is probably just because you’re a more interesting person.”

“Juan,” Mirabel said, gently.

“I know how this sounds,” he said, again, “but that’s just-, that’s just a fact. You are one of the most interesting people in the village! You’re creative and witty and highly intelligent. That-. Those are all traits that make a person interesting. It’s not a crush, you’re just pretty and interesting.”

“Ok, ok,” she nodded, slowly standing. She hadn’t meant to give Juan some sort of crisis.

“It’s not a crush,” he insisted.

“No, of course not,” she approached him carefully.

He watched her, once again reddening, “This isn’t a crush, i-it’s just biology.”

“Uh-huh, biology,” she nodded, putting a hand on his shoulder, “would you like to sit back down?”

Juan stared at her for a few beats, then glared at his shoes and grumbled, “I bet every guy my age wants to kiss you. It’s normal.”

Mirabel couldn’t help it. She giggled. His eyes snapped up to her, brimming with betrayal.

“Sorry, sorry, I-. That’s just-. It was a nervous giggle,” she was only mostly lying.

“I’m making you nervous,” he gasped, horrified.

“No, this conversation is,” she clarified, “I don’t know how to respond to uh this.”

“To me not having a crush on you?”

“To you insisting that I’m pretty and interesting and you want to kiss me, but you don’t have a crush on me.”

“I know how it sounds-.”

“Do you?”

He frowned, then sighed deeply, “I have a crush on you, don’t I?”

“I think you might.”

“I am so sorry.”

“I wouldn’t have invited you up here if I minded.”

“Right.”

They stared at each other for a few beats.

“You touch me more than you touch other people who aren’t a part of your family,” he gestured at the hand that was still on his shoulder. With a small spark of surprise, Mirabel realized she liked how blunt he was, it made things easier.

“I know,” Mirabel said, then decided she would be just as blunt back, “I’ve been trying to decide whether or not I should date you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I would like it if you did.”

“I noticed.”

“Right, of course you have,” he sighed again and returned to the couch sinking onto it and putting his head in his hands, “how long have I had a crush on you?”

“I don’t know,” Mirabel shrugged, “at least since the fabric store.”

He groaned, but didn’t say anything. After waiting a while, Mirabel returned to the couch and picked up her embroidery. She worked on it while he sat beside her, apparently grieving.

“Right,” he slapped his knees and stood, “guess I better get to work.”

“Work?” she asked.

“On flirting with you,” he paused to pick up his notebook, “I have a crush on you, and apparently I have an actual chance of being with you, so it would be stupid of me to just sit here panicking.”

“Oh,” Mirabel blinked up at him, “I kind of like being able to sit with you while we do our own thing, though.”

“Oh, then I’ll work on it here,” he sat back down and flipped to a new page in his notebook, “just don’t peek.”

Mirabel blinked at him a few more times, then she giggled again, only this time it wasn’t a single giggle that managed to sneak past her defenses, but a whole army of them.

“Is that a good sign?” he asked, blushing.

“Sí,” she nodded through her laughter.

“Hm,” he nodded thoughtfully and scribbled something in his notebook.

When he did eventually leave, he first ripped out a page with some calculations on it and gave it to her. Circled at the bottom was an estimation of how much string she would use on the blouse by the time she was done with it.

—

The next time she stopped in the market to chat with him, Juan greeted her by saying, “I talked to my sister, she says I’ve had a crush on you since your quinceñeara. And also that I’m not allowed to grow out my sideburns until after her wedding. I will be disowned, and possibly dismembered, if I ruin the wedding pictures.” 

“Oh,” Mirabel quietly filed away the fact that his crush apparently started back when she was still The Giftless One, then asked, “You’ve had a crush on me for over nine years and didn’t notice?”

“Mirabel, I can not emphasize to you enough that my entire personality is math,” he told her, very seriously, “I spend all day sitting around, thinking about two things, you and math. Usually a combination of the two, actually. If you do decide to date me, at the end of every date I will graph how much you laughed, or blushed, or calculate the odds that you enjoyed the main course more than the dessert. There is nothing else in here but numbers. Like a cup full of  dice.”

Mirabel felt a grin slowly stretch across her face.

“I’m serious,” he said, “I mean, I’ll try to be romantic, but unless you think me making a spreadsheet about your favorite coffee mix-ins is romantic, I can’t make any promises.”

“Is this you trying to convince me to date you?”

“This is me trying not to disappoint the woman I’ve apparently had a crush on for a decade,” he said, then he huffed as if frustrated, “Can you believe I’ve had a crush on you for a decade and my sister never told me?”

“I mean, she probably assumed you knew,” Mirabel pointed out.

He shook his head, “No, she said she thought it was funny that I didn’t.”

“Ah, that-. Yeah, that’s the sorta thing Isabela or Camilo would do,” Mirabel reached over the counter of the bean stall to put her hand on his shoulder, “at least you know now.”

“It was a little easier to look at you when I didn’t,” he said, eyes skittering away from her as a grumpy pout pushed out his lower lip.

Mirabel found herself giggling a little.

“You promise that’s a good sign,” he double checked, sounding equal parts weary and wary.

“Sí, you’re-,” she stopped herself before she called him adorable, Camilo had made it very clear that most men did not like that, “charming.”

Juan considered this, then slowly nodded, “I can deal with that.”

“Señorita Madrigal,” a voice interrupted them, Mirabel turned to find Señor Rivierra waving her down, “do you have a moment to discuss the elections for city council?”

Mirabel bit her lip and glanced at Juan. She didn’t actually want to leave, but she did want to talk about the elections with Señor Rivierra.

“Go ahead,” Juan quietly said, “I’ll be here whenever you got a free moment.”

“I’m going to work on your sister’s gift at Lucia’s after the market closes, I know Jo and Adelaide will be there today, you should come spend time with us,” Mirabel invited him, “help me get to know Adelaide.”

“I would love that,” he smiled quietly, “I honestly can’t think of a better way to spend an evening.”

“Great, I’ll see you there,” she squeezed his arm, then drew back. As she walked away with Señor Rivierra, she kept finding herself looking back at him over her shoulder. He waved at her every time she did.

—

“Hey Má,” Mirabel walked into the backyard two days later, “you got a minute to share some motherly wisdom?”

Her Má glanced up from her herb garden with a bright smile, “Oh, I have all the time in the world for my brilliant daughter.”

Mirabel fondly rolled her eyes, although now that she had two nephews, Mirabel was beginning to understand the urge to gush over the kids in your life. Still, she good-naturedly groaned, “Má.”

“What? It’s true,” Julieta shrugged, clipping off a few more sprigs of cilantro, “come into the kitchen with me. Tell me what you need.”

Mirabel followed her mother and pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. For a few minutes she watched her Má bustle around the kitchen, getting a soup started, it would seem.

“How did you know Pá loves you for you, and not for the whole Madrigal thing?” Mirabel asked.

“Oh, is this about Juan,” her mother threw her a somewhat sly smile, a teasing glint in her eye.

Mirabel bypassed the teasing however, “I’m surprised you know his name. It kinda seems like nobody does.”

Even Jo called him “the bean guy” half the time.

“He got tutored by your father when he was, oh gosh, ten years old perhaps. Your Pá was very impressed by his head for numbers,” Julieta grinned a little conspiratorially, “and he is dying to know if you two are dating.”

“I’m thinking about it,” Mirabel said slowly, “but I-. I want to be with somebody who likes Mirabel, not y’know, Mirabel Madrigal.”

“Hm, sí. You, as usual, are wise beyond your years,” Julieta shrugged a little rueful grin on her face, “I didn’t notice the difference between being loved for who I am and being admired for my gift until I had been dating your father for six months. I suppose I didn’t realize going into it that he saw me for me, it was only when we had our first fight and he was still just as in love with me afterwards that it clicked.”

“Your first fight, huh?”

“Sí, I have done my best to shield you from how petty I can be,” Julieta gave her a sheepish smile, “but you can ask your Tía about that. There was this one Christmas-, you know how hard it is to shop for your Tío Bruno, sí? Well, there was this one Christmas I had come up with the perfect idea for him, I told Pepa, and your lovely Tía stole it before I could get to the market. Oh, I was furious. And I did not handle it with grace.”

“What’d you do?”

“Well, first of all she stole the idea at the end of October, and I gave her the silent treatment until I had found a new gift,” her mother paused for dramatic effect, “half way through December.”

“No. Má, a whole month?”

“Sí, a whole month. And a half. Plus I cooked her least favorite foods for dinner every night, that entire time.”

“Má!”

“Like I said, I have a petty streak,” she shrugged, “and your Pá saw it but loved me all the same. He didn’t lay down and take it, mind you. He told me flat out if I treated our kids that way he would never trust me alone with them, but he didn’t love me any less once he saw my imperfections.”

Mirabel contemplated this. Weirdly, it reminded her of her recent conversation with Juan in the market, of the way he had tried to warn her flat out what he thought she might not like. She doubted the math thing would ever actually bother her, she was way more bothered about the way he still occasionally put himself down, but none of that was a deal breaker for her. 

She tried to think about what parts of her might be a deal breaker for him, it was hard though, so far he had been so easy going she couldn’t imagine him getting truly annoyed by much of anything.

Her Má paused what she was doing to face Mirabel, “I know you’re not anywhere near being there yet, but when your Pá and I started thinking about marriage, I kept thinking about that conversation. About his conviction that he would protect you guys from me if I ever slipped up. At the end of the day, that was what I wanted most out of a husband. Not just somebody who loved me warts and all, but somebody who I could count on to hold me accountable when it came to our kids. Parenting is hard, nobody gets it exactly right, and having somebody who’ll carry the load with you is important.”

Julieta didn’t say it, but they were both thinking of how Abuela had been forced to raise her own children alone, and all the problems that had caused. More than ever, it was clear that Abuela loved her familia, however; nobody was perfect. She had had nobody around to make up for what she lacked, she had gone decades without anyone who could call her out on mistakes she hadn’t noticed herself making. And the triplets had suffered for it.

But, Mirabel realized, all of the work Abuela had put into making things up to the familia had demonstrated better than any hug how much Abuela cared.

So she didn’t need to be perfect, she didn’t even need to find somebody with whom she could be a perfect parenting duo. She just needed somebody who saw her imperfections, loved her despite them, and was honest with her when she made mistakes.

She hugged her mother, thanked her for her time and wisdom, then went up to her room and gathered some paper and pencils. Mirabel made it to the market just before close, and spent some time milling about, checking in with a few of the villagers. When the market closed and people started packing up, she approached Juan’s stall and waited patiently while he transferred all the beans into the storage shed.

“Hola, what can I do for you?” he asked, traces of his customer service voice lingering after a long day of work.

“I want you to teach me how to do your favorite formula, the quantum one,” she said.

Juan blinked at her a few times, then in a very calm voice said, “Marry me.”

Mirabel snorted and giggled, “I’m serious.”

“I kind of am too,” Juan said, shaking his head and laughing a little, “what’s brought this on?”

“I’ll explain after,” she shrugged.

“Alright,” he said slowly, then gestured for her to follow him, “uh, how much math do you know? Did you ever learn any calculus?”

“Um, no, I learned some geometry in school, some accounting from my Pá, and I’ve been learning some statistics for the whole town government thing,” she said.

“Statistics? How about we do that instead,” he held his front door open for her, “so you can actually use whatever you learn.”

“I didn’t bring my statistics book,” she pointed out, she’d thought she’d be learning some theoretical physics.

“I have a few, I’m guessing you’re trying to learn how to best interpret polls and stuff?”

“Sí, and to figure out when we need to add another school, where to put it, how to divide up the students,” Mirabel rattled off, “oh, and where to put the different polling locations to make voting as easy as possible for everybody.”

“Let’s do the polling location thing, I helped with the census you guys did a few months back, so I should have all the data we need,” he said, leading her down the hall to his room.

“Works for me,” she followed him into his room, pausing in the door to take it in.

She was not surprised to see the two floor to ceiling bookshelves either side his desk, each filled with titles like “Differential Calculus”, “All about Angles”, and “The Math of Divinity”. She was surprised to realize she recognized something in a picture frame by his bed. It was a little card she had made, one of dozens to be honest, she had passed them out at the end of her quinceñeara to thank guests for coming. Each one had been shaped like a butterfly, and she’d used yarn leftover from other projects to “embroider” the patterns on the butterfly’s wings. He had it displayed so that the card was open, the butterfly’s wings were spread. Quietly, she picked it up.

“Looking back, knowing what I do now, I think that butterfly is what got my attention,” Juan said, coming up behind her. She could feel his warmth at her back.

“Really? This?”

“Sí, it’s so simple, but so creative,” he said, “and you went through the trouble of making at least one for every family that came. It’s-. You’ve always been so good at striking that balance between being absolutely brilliant, and genuinely warm. At the time I… I would have given anything to do the same.”

“This was-. Back then I really wanted people to see me as being just as special as the rest of my family,” she admitted, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. Even nine years after the fact she didn’t like telling people how much she’d hungered for approval.

“It worked,” Juan said, then paused, when she glanced at him over her shoulder he looked thoughtful, “at least, it worked on me. Although I think I’ve always assumed there was some reason you didn’t get a gift, some factor in the equation that hadn’t been revealed yet. It makes no logical sense otherwise.”

Mirabel sighed, nodding. Ever since the miracle had been reborn, an assumption had bubbled up among the villagers. She’d overheard two people discussing it shortly after the miracle came back.

“-with the way she’s stepped up, just like a mini Alma, it would make sense,” the woman who sold tea on Saturdays said, sitting in her stall at just the wrong angle to see Mirabel.

“I don’t get why the magic couldn’t just stay in the candle, though,” the man who was leaning against the side of the stall replied, not looking over his shoulders to see Mirabel right behind him.

“I don’t either, but what’s more likely? That the grandkid who takes after Dona Alma the most didn’t get a gift, but just so happened to have magic to repair the miracle as a complete coincidence; or, that she’s the miracle’s chosen successor,” the woman said, “I just hope we don’t have to build a new house every time the magic passes on.”

It wasn’t that Mirabel hadn’t considered it. It wasn’t exactly a huge leap. It was more a perfectly normal sized step. And she knew other people, including her Abuela, had reached the same conclusion. But her Abuela, her entire familia, approached it differently than the villagers did.

“I never should have gotten so caught up in the miracle,” Alma had said the morning after Mirabel’s twentieth, shaking her head, “if I had just taken a step back I would have seen it so much sooner. You have always been-.”

“You’re b-basically all the best parts of this family concentrated into a little ball of crafts and attitude,” Bruno had jumped in, holding his fingers together and squinting at them as if he was trying to read something on a tiny piece of paper, “it was such a shock that you didn’t get a gift, I-I think we just-. I dunno.”

Alma had given her son a fond smile as he shrugged and waved away the sentence he’d abandoned, they had been standing in the kitchen waiting for the coffee to brew, she eyed it as she spoke, “We couldn’t see the forest for all the trees. If I hadn’t allowed the miracle to define us so, I may have noticed sooner what an incredible young woman you were becoming.”

“There were a lot of things we shouldn’t and should have done,” Tío Bruno said, eyeing the walls that no longer held a secret corridor to his secret room, “but uh I guess if one of us had stepped up and done all that communicating stuff, we would have been the ones to bring the magic back.”

It was a small difference between “turns out Mirabel was special because she was chosen by the miracle all along” and “Mirabel was chosen by the miracle because it turns out she was special all along”. But it was a small difference that made a big impact.

Lately, Mirabel had been feeling closer and closer to her family, but just a little farther from the rest of the village. Lately, she had been put up on the same pedestal as the rest of her family, and she sort of missed being among the crowds.

But even worse than that, “It stings a little, that none of this worked. That all the hard work and passion I put into being creative and helpful never earned me any real respect. But that putting a doorknob in a door did.”

“What do you mean? This is impressive,” Juan reached around her to gently hold the part of the frame she wasn’t, “and people have always loved you. How-? I am honestly asking, respect must have been, I don’t know, how could they not respect you?”

Mirabel smiled, turning fully to look at him, “It isn’t that people didn’t like me, or that they looked down on me. They pitied me. I used to get things for free, not because I helped watch everybody’s kids, or because I played the accordion at so and so’s wedding, but because I was the only Madrigal without a gift. The good ol’ not special, special. Pity isn’t respect.”

“If they only respect you for the doorknob, is that actually respect?”

“I don’t know,” Mirabel shrugged, “this is-, all of this, the way people look at me now that they assume I have magic, the pedestal my family’s on, all of that, it’s been bothering me lately.”

“Only lately?”

“It’s slowly built up over the past nine years,” she admitted, “at first it was really nice to finally feel like ‘a real Madrigal’, and it took a few years for that to fade. When I turned twenty people suddenly started talking about me getting married and it made me think about what the rest of my life is going to look like. And over the past four years, well… it’s slowly sinking in that all this stuff is just going to be a part of my life forever now. I’ve spent so much of the past nine years solving problems, realizing these ones are out of my control is driving me a little crazy.”

“That makes sense,” he nodded, “that sounds pretty frustrating.”

Mirabel looked up at him, he wasn’t that much taller than her, it was entirely possible he was the exact height you’d get if you took an average of everybody in town. She examined him openly, and he stood quietly, letting her.

“It’ll be a part of my spouse’s life, and my kids’,” she warned him quietly, “the village does genuinely love us, b-but they love us as leaders, not as neighbors. Being with me means being seen as something a little bit other.”

Juan cocked his head, “I hadn’t considered that.”

Mirabel gulped, waiting to see what he’d say next.

“I will have to think about it,” he eventually declared, “but I suppose that’s the point of dating, isn’t it? To test out what a life together would look like.”

Mirabel shrugged, while shaking her head minutely, “I’m pretty sure the point of going on dates is to spend quality time together. At least, that’s why my parents do it.”

“Ah, I will keep that in mind,” he nodded, then he seemed to settle back on his heels, as if waiting for something. After a few beats, she realized he was waiting to see if she would talk about her thoughts and worries some more.

Mirabel really kind of hoped she was right about him. That this would work out and she’d end up with this quiet, kind of strange man who listened to her and admired her hard earned skills and bluntly spoke his mind.

“You uh wanna get started on this math lesson?” she prompted.

“I would absolutely love to,” he said, “here, sit, I’ll grab another chair and all the census data we need.”

The rest of the afternoon and evening was fairly frustrating for both of them. Juan never once raised his voice, grew snide, or implied she lacked intelligence, but she quickly learned that when he was annoyed he’d clench his jaw and sigh through his nose. On the other side, Mirabel struggled to grasp some of the more esoteric equations, but absolutely refused to just let him do the math for her, or even to let him move on to the next concept until she’d correctly explained what he’d just taught her back to him. 

When they were informed dinner was on the table (and Mirabel was given a last minute invitation to said dinner), they packed up their calculations in tense silence.

Once everything was cleaned up, Mirabel put a hand on Juan’s arm to keep him from leaving the room. She took a few deep breaths and reminded herself why she put the two of them through this.

“Do you still have a crush on me?” she asked.

“Oh, after seeing how hard you’ll work to understand things, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you,” he said, but he was scowling, “however I never want to do that again.”

Mirabel chuckled, “To be honest, neither do I. But I kinda have to do stuff like this if I want to help our village.”

“Fuck our village,” Juan sighed, rubbing at his temple, “I don’t mean that, but also I do feel it. Deeply.”

“Yeah, I do too sometimes,” she also sighed.

“You are incredible, that sucked though,” he said, “I deeply admire how dedicated you are, that you didn’t try to cut a single corner, but I am dreading the next time we do this.”

“Well, at least this miserable experience has brought us closer together,” she laughed a little.

“Has it?”

After a split second’s hesitation, she stepped into his space and kissed him on the cheek, “It has.”

Face burning, she fled down the hall as calmly as she could manage. He caught up with her a few seconds later.

“On second thought, I am happy to do this again tomorrow if it means you’ll kiss me,” he informed her, voice light but matter of fact.

When they reached the dining room Mirabel was giggling.

—

Mirabel had just put the last stitch on the last flower on the blouse for Juan’s sister, when somebody knocked at her door. She put the blouse down and stood, walking over to the door and trying her best not to get her hopes up. When she opened the door it was just Camilo.

“Oh, it’s you,” she sighed, accidentally letting her disappointment leak into her voice. She hadn’t really seen Juan all week. He’d sought her out a few times after the math lesson, then suddenly stopped, but continued to light up whenever she stopped to chat with him at the market. Unfortunately, people were starting up their campaigns for city council, and she only had seconds to spare throughout her day.

Camilo, strangely enough, didn’t tease her for her obvious disappointment. He didn’t say anything. He just crossed his arms, leaned on the door frame, and stared at her, eyes narrowed.

“Did you need something?” she asked.

“The bean guy?”

“He has a name, y’know.”

“Sure, sure, sure. I’m sure he does. And you know? He seems real nice. But… why?”

“He’s a good listener, I like his sense of humor, we can relax togeth-,” Mirabel paused, then sighed, “he’s downstairs waiting for me, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, but I left him with Tío Bruno, so they’re probably happy to talk about weird stuff together.”

“They are two different genres of weird,” Mirabel grumbled, pushing past her cousin. Sure enough, when she got downstairs, Tío Bruno was once again staring at Juan like he was a Swedish book of riddles.

“How about basket weaving?”

“Nope, just math.”

“Flower arranging?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Finger puppets?”

“Afraid not.”

“Interpretive dance?”

“Mm no, just math.”

“3D printing?”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Right, yeah, I think it’s from the future. Sorry. Uuuh? How about making hedgehogs out of your handprint?”

“Like in school?”

“Sí.”

“Uh no, not since I was nine.”

Mirabel cleared her throat before Bruno could continue the interrogation. Juan was visibly relieved, while Tío Bruno turned to look at her, mouth screwed up in confusion. She tried to signal with her eyes that she wanted him to leave, but he either ignored or didn’t notice the nonverbal request. Mirabel sighed.

“Juan, just in time, I just finished your sister’s blouse,” she said, “would you like to come up and see it?”

“I-, sí, very much so,” he nodded, looking two parts eager and one part uncomfortable as Tío Bruno continued to examine the both of them.

“Great, let’s go,” she took his hand and pulled him towards the stairs as soon as he’d taken it.

Behind them, Tío Bruno muttered, “Weird.” in a voice that wasn’t nearly as quiet as he probably thought it was.

Mirabel rolled her eyes and was about to apologize to Juan, when she noticed Camilo was “casually” leaning on the rail between the stairs and her room. She glared at him while they passed, but he pretended not to notice. Mirabel pushed through her door and closed it, narrowing her eyes at Camilo as he strolled closer as if he just sort of happened to be wandering on over. The last thing she saw as the door closed was the Oh So Innocent look on his face.

“Are you sure your family doesn’t hate me?” Juan asked, as soon as the door was closed.

“No, Tío Bruno talks to you, that means he likes you,” she said, then turned to her door and shouted, “and Camilo is just a nosey asshole!”

“Yeah Bean Guy, don’t let it get to you,” Camilo called back, and if Juan wasn’t already looking so nervous she would have gone out and smacked the smarmy grin Camilo was definitely wearing off his stupid face. She glared at the door, then dragged Juan further into her room where Camilo wouldn’t be able to hear them.

“Anyway! Hola, how’ve you been,” she said, once she thought they were far enough from the door.

“Uh frustrated, to be honest.”

“Oh. Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he shook his head, “but I’ve been working on something that I am not good at.”

That said, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a knit flower on a choker. It was Mirabel’s favorite shade of teal, with a yellow center and a green leaf. On the blue ribbon of the choker there were tiny maroon butterflies lining the top and bottom of the ribbon. 

Mirabel gasped, “You made this?”

“Sí, it took me all week and Josephine had to stop by my place once a day to show me how to fix my mistakes. I had to redo the ribbon four times, but I’ve done it. I have made you a necklace,” he held it out to her, looking genuinely proud of himself, “I chose the yarn for the flower based on the fact you wear that shade of teal sixty percent more than any other color. Then I had Josephine and my sister help with colors to match it.”

Mirabel bypassed the choker to hug him. Well, technically she pounced on him, but she couldn’t think of any other way to express how she felt.

“Well, that’s a good sign,” Juan said, wrapping his arms around her, “right?”

“Sí.”

“Great! Would you like to be my date for my sister’s wedding?”

“Sí.”

“Even better,” he said, still holding her. He was warm, and delightfully sturdy. A part of her just wanted to stand there and rest against him for the rest of the day. She had a meeting with the city council candidates tomorrow to discuss campaigning rules and it would be nice to spend the day relaxing against him. However, she was pretty sure they should actually go on a few dates before she asked him to spend thirteen hours holding her.

Slowly, Mirabel released him, he took his cue from her and let her go. When they were far enough apart that she could see his face, he was grinning ear to ear. She smiled fondly up at him.

“Will you put it on me?” 

“Oh, sí, of course,” he held the necklace up as she turned around and carefully put it around her neck, buttoning it in the back while she held her hair up out of the way. When she turned back to him he saw his hard work on her neck, and his grin got just a little wider.

Mirabel chuckled a little, “Feels really good seeing somebody wearing something you worked hard on, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, incredible, but uh, this is probably something I’m not doing again,” he chuckled a little sheepishly, “at least, not without your help. Josephine kept smacking me.”

Mirabel giggled at the mental image, “She can be very outspoken about her opinions.”

“Outspoken is one thing, but why’d she hit me?” he grumbled, shaking his head, then he perked up, “Anyway! You said you finished my sister’s blouse?”

“I did, come on,” she took his hand again and led him to the couch where she’d been working on the blouse. After double checking that the last stitch was secure, she took it out of the embroidery hoop and handed it to him. He held it up, eyes meticulously roving over every detail.

“Maybe I’ll just keep it, frame it in my room like the butterfly you made,” he said, not taking his eyes off the flower chain on the collar.

“Oh no you don’t, this is some of the best work I’ve ever done, I want to see her wearing it,” she put her hands on her hips, “now, what about her husband?”

“Her husband?”

“Sí, it’s a wedding gift, no? You’re generally supposed to give things for both the bride and groom,” Mirabel pointed out.

“Oh, uh, right. That guy.”

“That guy?” she snorted, shaking her head, “Do you not like him or something?”

“No, I do. But you know how it is, she’s my only sister, I guess I imagined a prince would swoop in and make her a princess,” Juan shrugged, sitting on the couch, “I like him, and I like seeing her happy, but I guess it just feels weird to see her marry a real person.”

“You have a brother, don’t you?” Mirabel asked, sitting next to him, “Isn’t he married?”

“Ah, sí, but he was married and helping his wife care for his in-laws at their place, by the time I was born, so he’s more like an uncle. Honestly, I’m closer to my sister in law than I am to my brother,” he shrugged, “but my sister. She was my first friend. It’s kinda sad, you know, seeing her move onto the next step of life. A step that involves her leaving our home.”

Mirabel smiled sympathetically but couldn’t offer anything more than a hand in his. Madrigals did not move out of Casita, people who married Madrigals moved in. She’s never had to worry about her siblings and cousins dispersing to the wind.

Juan sighed, and flashed her a bittersweet smile, “But you’re right, I should get him something too.”

“I can embroider something for him that matches,” she said, “what does he usually wear?”

“Hats,” Juan said, “he is always wearing a hat. He’s balding.”

“Hats, ok, I’ll make him a hat with a matching pattern on the brim,” she said, “do you know what his head size is?”

“No, but I know where he gets his hats, I’m sure if we tell the hatter that we’re making a wedding gift, he’ll give us any information you need,” he started to stand, “oh, if you don’t mind going right now.”

“No, not at all,” she also stood, “we should do this quickly.”

They left hand in hand and strolled their way down to the hatter’s shop, talking about their families and gifts and weddings. The hatter loved the idea of giving the couple matching clothes, and gave them a hat for free, so long as they agreed to put his name on the card. On their way back, they stopped for some coffee and a couple pastries. Then they spent the rest of their day sitting together on her couch. Her embroidering the hat, him calculating how much string she’d ended up using on the blouse.

In a year, they would have a small spat over whether that counted as their first date, or whether their first date was a week later when they got lunch together. The spat wasn’t serious, but Mirabel had been working on Juan’s gift with the later deadline in mind and was embarrassed it wasn’t finished. Meanwhile, Juan had gotten what he considered to be their anniversary engraved on the ring he’d gotten her, and he wasn’t sure how to explain that without giving away the surprise.

Ultimately, Mirabel let him win when he got down on one knee. She had found somebody who wanted to marry her even when she was being stubborn and sarcastic. That made her the real winner in the long run.

[jmrothwell]

Regency AU + guardian angels au?

So I’m not sure if this falls under Regency but it’s the only idea I could come up with. 

There’s a change in staff in the Molina estate shortly after Lady Rose Molina falls ill. The only reason Julie notices is that she is taken entirely by surprise by the stable boy who greets her when she goes to go for a ride to help clear her head, and to get away from well meaning family and visitors trying to make her and the rest of her family feel better. 

This new stable boy( I think they actually had another name but I don’t remember it), while not exactly silent, just prattles on about the horses and how to take care of them. Excitedly talking and explaining things much like someone who just learned themselves. It’s utterly amusing and Julie finds it’s the first time in weeks she’s has felt utterly weighed down by grief, even if only for a small moment. 

She learns the stable boy isn’t the only new member of staff. Carlos ecstatically talks about the gardener who helped him sneak into the kitchens. Her Dad doesn’t recall hiring the two new footmen but he must have, right?

(In case it wasn’t obvious the new staff are Reggie, Willie, Luke, and Alex respectively)

Over the course of the next few months Rose’s condition continues to improve dramatically. As does the general spirits of everyone else. 

Julie finds herself hanging around the stables and going for rides more and more over the months, and though she won’t admit it a big factor into that is Reggie. It’s also pointed out to her that she has been speaking to Alex and Luke more and more over the months. 

(Whether or not we throw in some additional Courting dilemma’s remains uncertain)

Anyway, once her Mom seems entirely healed (or rather weeks to months after this) the new staff members suddenly pull personality 180’s and after pushing Reggie admits they’ve already stayed past their time and done more than they should have. He, Luke, Alex, and Willie were only meant to oversee the family, not interact and intervene like they had. 

It takes a little more prodding before Alex, Luke, and Willie show up to explain they are actually guardian angels and that they literally can not stay anymore-though it would be phrased

Through some plot narrative shenaniganry  and after some personal revelations on Julie’s (and the rest of her family) part, the guys return to earth. It’s a happy reunion that quickly turns into how do we get you to stay. Alex and Willie are happy remaining part of the staff. Things are more complicated with Luke and Reggie but Victoria and Rose are able to work some connections to make things work out in that department.

[sonicboomseason3]

Sonic boom season 3 ep where omega uses his experience in law to defend shadow in court. (he was accused of killing fastidious beaver and no one really cares but still. Murder. He also is 100% guilty) Edgebot from the Brude episode is the prosecutor. Omega manages to pin the blame on sonic somehow and then fastidious beaver just. Walks into the court room. Turns out he just got knocked out instead of actually killed(which was the goal). No one knows how they managed an autopsy without actually harming him. The episode ends with T.W. barker asking Omega to defend him in court against charges of extortion. Omega gets paid for none of this btw.

HELP? i already wanted to come up with an episode that was a parody of ace attorney and you just fed me thank u. also you are so based for the multiple references to my other posts no one normal would say this but im so glad i turned on anon on tumblr dot com

anyway lemme add on to this:

its obvious from the get go to the audience that shadows guilty. not because hes a bad liar or anything he just doesnt care to pretend. what does he have to lose? his freedom??? the prison doesnt want him they know better than to attempt to detain him. his reputation??? right, because hes so clearly known for his innocent harmless and gentle demeanor with everyone. hell if he goes down as the one who killed fastidious beaver, people will finally take him seriously again after being forced into so many comedic scenarios for this blasted shows universe. the only thing stopping him from standing up and outright confirming that he did it is that hed never hear the end of it from omega whos high key excited for his debut as a lawyer

tw barker wanted to continue his lawyer career so he practically begged shadow to hire him but like... he does c/rypto on the side and shadows an anticapitalist king so he essentially told him to eff off

the "courtroom" is just meh burger reorganized so half of the tables represent the prosecutors desk and the other half the defenses. the restaurant counter is the judges chair. there may be an actual courthouse they can do this at but after that one time omega left the restaurant he got placed under house arrest or should it be called restaurant arrest? is meh burger technically his home or……… he cant leave or else a self destruct switch will activate is what im trying to say

(hi its me from the future <3 apparently anons idea resonated so hard with me that i got kinda carried away with my little additions and i dont wanna be obnoxious if i can help it so im putting this under a read more okay continue on. or not if you dont wanna hear about how literally the entire trial goes i guess)

knuckles is the judge which makes perfect logical sense

the detective is vector whos televising this entire trial while hes at it. he barely has anything to work with because a CERTAIN SOMEONE disposed of the body but from what he could piece together fastidious beaver was being annoying at meh burger so shadow grabbed him by the scruff, dragged him over the counter, and dunked his head into the deep fryer. as anon mentioned he somehow survives this

sticks conducted the autopsy and by that i mean she whacked fastidious beaver in the head with her boomerang a couple of times and when he didnt wake up from that she hurled him into the sea. once again this makes perfect logical sense its not like we have other characters much better equipped to be scientific about this. and he somehow survives this as well

edgebot looks exactly like omega except with more spikes. he wants revenge against shadow for besting him at Brude™️ which is why hes doing this. from this episode onward hes omegas main rival in the field of law and also theyre brothers since they were both created by eggman. M1KU is their sister. orbot and cubot are their eldest siblings. what a nice family

oh and instead of yelling "OBJECTION" each side just fires a projectile (ice cream for omega, knives for edgebot) at the other robot causing sogginess and scratch marks

all the other characters are the gallery and theyre sitting outside on the grass watching this all go down with varying degrees of attention. eggman in particular feels very conflicted because he wants to support edgebot but he doesnt want to make omega feel like the unfavorite and of course he doesnt want to root for shadows downfall either

witness 1 is dave who was standing right next to shadow when he was committing the deed and did absolutely nothing to stop him. omega gets him to recant by pelting him with ice cream nonstop and giving him hypothermia

witness 2 is amy who was at the front of the line to order when this went down and also saw everything but omega cracks her testimony by getting her to admit that shadows back was towards her at the time so she cant say for sure that was shadow. sure no one else around is a black hedgehog with red stripes but she cant prove it was him can she?

witness 3 whos infinite is mainly there to testify about shadows character and of course he starts talking so much trash about him and painting him in the worst light possible. "also those red things next to his eyes? theyre UGLY." "YOURE THE UGLY ONE YOU MASK WEARING FREAK!!!" shadow yells as he leaps from the defendants chair and tackles infinite to the floor because these two in the boomverse would be so catty you will not change my mind about this. a recess has to be called

rouge whos witness 4 is also there to establish character and shes one of the few who isnt intimidated by shadow so when asked questions about whether hes capable of doing this shes like "lol maybe idk can i go to my manipedi appointment now" (side note but shadows constantly at a loss for words when it comes to rouge precisely because of this. none of his threats ever affect her so if he cant scare her then What Else Can He Do)

eventually omega pushes everything onto sonic by saying he was disguised as shadow to frame him which is an accusation that comes out of left field because in case you werent paying attention sonic isnt involved in this incident/trial AT ALL. he was sitting in the gallery for the first half of the proceedings but grew bored so he left only to be forced to come back when hes accused. insert sa2 references here yada yada faker etc etc youre not even good enough to be my fake blah blah blah live and learn

shadow surprisingly is pretty against the direction this trial has gone because it actually really pisses him off when people imply that he and sonic look alike even when it directly benefits him but just when hes about to put his foot down and own up to the crime (omegas fun be DAMNED) fastidious beaver comes in "correcting" his grammar and everyone freaks out. especially him.

omegas disappointed that his first trial was ultimately a dud but then tw barker comes up to him and tells him hes in trouble for extortion and omega ALMOST accepts until he learns that the incident involved c/ryptocurrency

[winstein-nin]

Waluigi is a great addition to the Mario crew

In my opinion, probably unpopular if it's among Wario fans, is that Waluigi is a needed addition added at the best-possible time. To take this further, I think he's an overall great addition. There are some Wario fans that may view Waluigi as a redundant figure because they point to the Wario franchise characters and cite pretty much any character that should have been Wario's partner over Waluigi in Mario Tennis. In fact, some view Waluigi as unoriginal only because he's like the Luigi for Wario or some such.

One reason I think Waluigi is added at the right time is that the Wario series hardly gives Wario a friend, especially a consistent one, back in the 90's. Think about it: how many characters appear in more than one game that could count as Wario's friend? Certainly not Captain Syrup, who is basically the villain in the first two Wario Land games (both released in the 90's). Tatanga is more or less hired help and is more of a Mario character. Even Wario's Woods, a game that have opponents/bosses that seemingly work for Wario, never share appearances between the NES and SNES versions. Besides, they are minions and thus are not really developed characters (that's like saying Bowser's default partner should have been a Goomba), so they never really made them with staying power.

Because of this, Wario never really have any partner to use in the Mario games. This is compared to Donkey Kong, who from his first modern incarnation's game in 1994's Donkey Kong Country, already introduced Diddy Kong. Wouldn't you know it: Diddy Kong makes regular appearances in many Mario games, though not Mario Tennis (N64) where it was Donkey Kong Jr. that was used, so at least by then there is a viable partner for Donkey Kong. Wario never had any similar character by then, so there is a vacuum for this position so to speak, which would be a good time to introduce a companion for Wario for long term. Mario Tennis (N64) after all turns out to be the pivotal game for the Mario series by establishing what a spin-off cast of characters should be.

It should be pointed out that introducing a companion of an existing character is still valid. For some it's considered "lazy" to do so, but if that is a purpose for introducing them, that is still as good of a reason as any others. Some of the characters in the Mario series are pretty much introduced to be a companion for another character, the most obvious one being Toadette for Toad in Mario Kart: Double Dash!!, and lest we forget: Luigi was introduced the same way because Mario needed a partner for 2-player simultaneous gameplay in Mario Bros. (1983).

Funnily enough, the Wario games since Wario Land 4 (released after Mario Tennis) provided Wario with at least a friend. Though, the Wario Land games never really stuck with any for each game, for Shokora was ascended in Wario Land 4, the characters in Wario: Master of Disguise are still in TV land, and not to mention how Captain Syrup's alliance with Wario was temporary and deceptive in Wario Land: Shake It. WarioWare, on the other hand, provided consistent characters that Wario Land did not provide. It may be possible that if WarioWare were to exist before Mario Tennis (N64), Wario might team up with one of those characters, but since that did not happen, Waluigi found his place, and it stuck. Besides, the WarioWare cast aren't really depicted as being close to Wario in the same way as Wario and Waluigi many of the time (they are considered his employees, after all).

Still, I think because Waluigi is part of the main Mario gang, he's probably the most popular of the companions that Wario get. Whether or not he's better-treated than any of them is arguable, where some fans would argue that the WarioWare characters are treated better, but the fact that Waluigi has merchandise, has a mascot costume designed after him, and is an accepted part of the Mario group like some screenshots below shows that, he may have folks that did not like him, but he's still loved quite the same.

Thank you for reading.

[safewaymovinginc]

How Soon Should You Change Your Address When Moving?

Do you plan on changing your mailing address soon? In addition to the obvious, such as obtaining boxes and packing materials, renting a truck, or hiring professional movers, you will also need to inform the relevant people and places that you will be relocating. It's better to have things taken care of sooner rather than later to avoid future hassles like late payments or service disruptions. Finance gurus

You must inform both the state and federal governments of your change of residence for tax purposes. The Internal Revenue Service can be notified of your address change in a number of different ways. Before sending anything, phone them up and provide them your full name, date of birth, SSN (or ITIN or EIN), and both your old and new addresses. An alternative is to submit a written declaration to the IRS that includes the information above and is signed by you.

How successful have you found the following methods? Seek advice from your accountant. Go to your state's government website and look for contact information for the tax department there. For the most part, you can take care of this electronically or at least get your hands on the necessary forms to fill out and submit to the state tax authorities, with no need to physically visit their office.

Centralized Insurance Registry

If you receive Social Security payments, you must notify the SSA. To change your address, either log in to your My SSA Account, click on your profile, and select "Update Contact Information," or contact the SSA at (800) 772-1213 and provide the new address and the date you'd want it to take effect.

Create one quickly and easily by entering the correct address if you don't already have one. If you are receiving Supplemental Security Income (SSI) or do not have a U.S. mailing address, please contact the aforementioned number or your local Social Security Administration (SSA) office.

Department of Transportation

If you are moving to a new state, you will need to file the appropriate change of address documentation before you can begin establishing yourself there. The automobile registration and driver's license, if they contain addresses, are included. Several of our manuals are available to serve as resources for this process. Whether you're relocating across the country or just across the street, we can help.

gas and power companies

If you want to avoid being cold or in the dark for a day or more after relocating, this is a chore you should do as soon as you have a firm grasp on your new address and moving date. You should schedule the transfer of your power such that it is turned off at your current location at the end of moving day and that service at your new address begins either the morning of your move-in date or the evening before. This is not an effective method for navigating in the dark.

Ease the Process

If you want to keep receiving mail after the post office stops forwarding it, you should start notifying those who send it to you at least two weeks before you move. If you have a long list of people and organizations to contact, schedule an hour or two a day to perform the work. In order to save time, you should switch your phone number before informing anyone of your new residence. Most places you do business with will also require your new phone number. If you have misplaced it, you'll need to get in touch with them again.

Several methods exist for getting the message out. There are usually blanks on bills and statements where you may update personal details like your address or preferred method of contact. You may wish to send an email to your employer or visit the human resources office to confirm that you will continue to get your W-2s and that all-important paycheck on time. Personalized cards, available at most stationery shops, are a great way to let loved ones know about your move and add a touch of warmth to the announcement. Also, the change of address cards provided by the post office make it easy for everyone else on your list to keep up with the move.

Never Forget the Inconspicuous

When thinking about a change of address, your mail is often the first item to pop into your head. You'll also need to modify your address in some less obvious places: If you use a return address stamp while sending mail, you need to get a new one. It is also important to reprint the return address labels.

Make sure your pet and luggage don't go missing. Collars and tags should have their addresses changed to reflect your new location. To maintain contact with your child's school, it is important to ensure your contact information is up to date in the school's directory. If you run a home company, you know how important it is to make every transaction. Immediately after relocating, you should change your address on your official stationery, business cards, bank checks, website, and directories. It's possible that moving will take a lot of time and cause of stress of moving process. Smile, visualize your future home, and remind yourself that this chaotic period will soon be over.

[goobergoeslive]

HeatherBlogging Part 12

We move on to the first part of JD’s big plan: blackmailing Heather Duke so she will take up Chandler’s previous position, at the top of the school social pyramid. Which wouldn’t really require much blackmailing for her to do, but he will need her to do him an additional favor later on.

He even gives Duke the red scrunchie, presumably having taken it from Chandler’s room on the day of her death. Duke is thus ready to become the Queen.

I want to point out that, although Veronica has her share of hypocrisy, JD really isn’t any better in that regard. He is going out of his way to encourage someone who will very likely be as bad as Chandler to take up her place, somehow convinced Martha to give him the photos of her and Duke when they were kids, meaning that he just used her as a footstool to get to Duke, and thus has treated her badly like everybody else, and I know that this is all just a means to an end for his Big Plan, but it’s still hypocritical of him to be enforcing the very things he said made the school’s environment so terrible, while supposedly wanting to stop them.

Ok, this is where I elaborate on what I said about the movie showing that there might have been another side to Chandler, way back in the college party sequence. In the current scene, Veronica approaches Chandler’s old locker and pries it open. She seems mournful as she looks through Chandler’s belongings, of which includes a photo of all Heathers + Veronica, as well a series of photos of just Veronica and Chandler.

I think this isn’t just Veronica feeling remorseful for what she’s done - I think she does genuinely miss Chandler and, on some level, maybe even cared about her. Even if Chandler did terrible things, she was still Veronica’s classmate, she was a person who had her own problems going on. I don’t say this to excuse Chandler’s behavior, but rather to say that, although we’ve been presented with this overall view of Chandler as just a flat bully, she was still another teenager and her own person, and her previous actions don’t make her death any less of a hideous and unnecessary thing.

I think that the scene where Chandler spits at her own reflection in the party and this scene with the locker are thus meant to show the audience that “hey, we know this is a weird and dark highschool comedy, but even shitty teenagers are people and their deaths can be horrible things”, but not in a sense of “oh, you should forgive all teenage bullies and just let them be terrible”.

And we are on the third croquet match, where I elaborate on what I had mentioned during the second one: in this case, Veronica manages to shoot her ball against Betty’s. This means that Veronica can either take two more shots during her turn, or opt to bump her ball against Betty’s to land it in a more disadvantageous position. And Veronica does go for the two shots, which surprises Betty, since knocking her out would be “the only way to win”, but Veronica says that’s not her way.

The remaining Heathers pop up, however, and indeed, Duke is now red! McNamara seems visibly bothered by something throughout the scene, and I don’t think it’s because of Betty’s presence, but rather due to Duke’s new redness. It’s pretty obvious that Duke is unsubtly usurping Chandler's place.

A simple shot, but effective. It really captures the isolation that Martha’s been facing. The decision to start the scene with a focus on her face whilst playing the sounds of a crowd, only to pan out to this shot and cut the sound to reveal that no one else was there works very well.

Oh sure, the cameras “happened” onto your path, and it wasn’t like an entire recording team was specifically hired to film it! Veronica doesn’t buy any of that bullshit either, and is understandably angry about it.

“Before a teenager decides to kill himself there are certain facts he should know. After all, this is a decision that affects all of us, and there’s only one chance to get it right.”

You also don’t need me to tell you how grossly insensitive this is. It is, however, factually incorrect: there are several people who have attempted suicide and survived, but who attempt to commit it again at a later time.

It is at this point in the story where we get an actual suicide (attempt) that isn’t a cover up for a murder, that being Martha’s.

The third scene with Veronica and her parents also comes up, and though there are a few similarities with the previous two, besides the difference in the setting, the most marked difference is how Veronica is no longer nonchalantly talking with her parents about what’s happening. They still seem pretty indifferent to the situation at school, but Veronica no longer plays into that indifference herself.

“”Treated like human beings?” Is that what you said, little Miss Voice-of-a-Generation? Just how do you think adults act with other adults? You think it’s all just a game of doubles tennis? When teenagers complain that they want to be treated like human beings, it’s usually because they are being treated like human beings.”

I really like this little speech from Veronica’s mom, not because I agree with her, but because there is something deeply revealing about it: so far in the movie, all the drama that happens to the characters is centered around highschool. These are teenagers that are having teenage problems, which only happen in this closed environment. But that’s not 100% true, is it? Being mocked and looked down upon, suffering anxiety and depression, feeling misunderstood, these are not things that exclusively affect teenagers, it’s something that can happen to any human being in any period of their life. It’s not teenagers who aren’t being treated like human beings, but rather human beings who treat each other this way.

Even when people manage to find their way out of highschool, what guarantees that some of the same problems won’t persist? Maybe they won’t resurface in the same way, and as a person grows older, they might be able to handle them better, but that doesn’t mean other people will stop treating them like crap. They could be treated like crap in college, or in the workplace, or just by walking down the street.

Shouldn’t we instead be seeing things the other way around? Rather, the terrible things that can happen during highschool are not always exclusive to that environment, but they are shaped by what happens in the society which the school is built into (and I hate to use the word “society”, because by now it’s become kind of a meme, but I don’t know what better way to describe this). 

[hudsonmckenzie]

How to choose from the best London immigration lawyers?

The first thing that comes to mind when considering a migration to the UK from any other country is the legal process, the paperwork, and numerous formalities, most of which you are probably unaware of because there are thousands of legal documents that must be completed meticulously and without error because even the smallest error can land you in serious trouble. Thus, you should absolutely employ legal counsel if you are considering going through any legal process. This is especially true if you are considering migrating, in which case you should consult a knowledgeable UK immigration lawyer. When looking for an immigration lawyer, keep these crucial points in mind. There are times when we need to be absolutely certain that we are hiring a good lawyer for ourselves, and there are many dishonest people out there who will advise you to take shortcuts and charge you a ridiculous amount of money, leaving you with endless headaches.

First of all, remember that even the finest attorneys cannot guarantee a 100% success rate in your case. Therefore, even if you believe you have found the best attorney you have ever met, they may still need to be rechecked in the event that a particular conclusion occurs.

You should do some additional research and seek advice from other lawyers before hiring a London immigration lawyer. By doing so, you can gain a better understanding of how straightforward or complex your case is and how to move forward with it with the least amount of hassle. Why should you talk about this with other immigration attorneys? Because it will allow you to compare options before selecting the best fit, and you may have a thorough understanding of their work philosophy to choose which option is best for your situation.

The second crucial point to remember is to avoid hiring immigration lawyers that advise you to do unethical or illegal things, such lying on your application, lying to the officer, or offering more money to bribe the officer. Why did I advise you to speak with multiple immigration lawyers in the paragraph above? This is one of the reasons it's possible to determine which lawyer is handling your case appropriately by speaking with multiple attorneys. It is obvious that if an immigration lawyer advises you to do something dubious, he is not the right one for you. If you are discovered participating in such scams, you will be in far more difficulty than the lawyer.

Aside from these, the most crucial thing to look out for while researching London immigration lawyers is to steer clear of attorneys that represent clients directly at immigration offices. Many immigration attorneys scout for clients in the immigration offices' hallways, a practice frowned upon by the legal community as unprofessional. Given their extreme busy schedules, immigration attorneys who truly practice immigration law are unlikely to be able to handle issues involving immigration.

The most important thing to remember is to make sure you are working with a legitimate attorney and not just a petition preparer or visa counselor. Because you wouldn't want to take a chance on anything going wrong in your case that could get you into problems, it is best to double verify and to have a genuine immigration practitioner manage your immigration case. Many non-lawyers who have never seen the intricate area of law and who don't even comprehend the basics of the law pretend to be knowledgeable and skilled in helping foreigners who require assistance with the immigration process. So be advised that they may abscond with your money.

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What Are The Stressful Situations Faced During Relocation?

Migration or moving from one location to another is a very troublesome task that every individual might have undergone once in its lifetime. Sometimes the thought of relocating becomes a terrible nightmare for us when we do not find any suitable help for packing our household stuff. For those who have decided for business relocation, the process has to be planned well in accurate manner so that nothing goes wrong. No matter whatever is the type of relocation you choose, it always need organized execution on ground without any mistakes. As the process is lengthy and time consuming, it cannot be handled by single person, therefore skilled Packers and Movers are required to assist at every step of relocation. They provide complete satisfaction at the end because the process followed by them is transparent and will relieve you from all the worries.

There have been many studies that have been conducted on why the relocation has become one of the reasons for mental pressure and stress in the individual’s life. It has been found that the entire process is full of pains because of its increasing demands. Hence, it also becomes worse experience for those who do not take it seriously. The success of move depends on many factors like- finances to spend on, planning and additional help. If any of the steps is lacking then the entire situation of packing and moving becomes traumatic for many users.

With this article you will understand some of the problematic tasks that can be faced by anybody. These tips will be going to make your every relocation easier and smooth:

Buying or renting a home in another location

As the process is very hectic, so do the searching of new home in the city which is unknown to you. Well, it is obvious that by changing the area in which you have spent much time and then relocating to a new one is not simple. Whether you want to buy your own home or rent an apartment, both of them needs a good research to do along with financial planning. It is very tiresome thing for you to reside in a home that can meet your demand. Here to go about with the same, you can hire trustworthy property agent who can assist you in finding your dream home. Besides this selling the one which you are leaving is not a facile thing to do when moving out. To make sure it happens in an easy way, prepare well for its sale.

Repairing and improving your home

Working on repairing old home as well as new home may take some weeks to be completed; certainly the involvement of the financial expanses is also included in the process. In order to meet this challenge, you have to figure out all the possible expenditure that you can face at any point of time. Make an important point in your mind that both the homes need cleaning in advance before settlement. To save your time, you can rent home cleaning services from experienced people. If in case you are doing international movement then it is not at all possible that you will be present at your destination to supervise the work, then in such case expertise in this domain is the only option left.

Hiring genuine packers and movers Noida

The first and the foremost duty whenever you thought of changing your home is to look for authentic packing and moving company who can do each and every task for you including disassembling, packing, loading, transporting, unloading, unpacking and reassembling of all the items at a place. Being a complicated task, the only solution is to have guidance from them because they can manage very well with the circumstances. Scanning all the movers available near your location and making right decision based on the charges of their services, valid legal credentials, and license to carry out the process, reviews of the customers, qualifications and past successful projects. You should cross-check from each and every aspect in the best possible way so that at the end you are not trapped with the fraudsters. Ask as many questions and doubts as you can.

Informing your closed ones

Wherever you choose to relocate, you take out every way to create a friendly atmosphere around you. Moving has an emotional feeling attach to it. It is really difficult for some people to leave their loved ones and move to a new place. So informing friends and relatives about your shifting, managing them in this situation becomes mandatory, therefore throwing a farewell party can work out for you. You can even ask those help you out with packing task, so that they can spend some time with you. Even your children have to consider in this process most importantly. They are very tender and not strong enough to handle this situation for moving out. They need to be tackled in a way that helps in providing mental support to them.

Thus these are not the limited stressful conditions that people suffer from when performing relocation. There are many other responsibilities too that can create confusion every time when you want to move over long or short distance. Follow these tips and make your every move free from unnecessary troubles. With Packers and Movers Noida make it much more convenient task that could become memorable experience for you.

Relocating can be quite stressful due to various reasons. Here are some common stressful situations people often face during a move:

Logistical Challenges: Coordinating the logistics of packing, moving belongings, and organizing the move itself can be overwhelming. Managing timelines, arranging transportation, and dealing with paperwork can add stress.

Emotional Stress: Leaving behind familiar surroundings, friends, and routines can be emotionally challenging. Adjusting to a new environment can take time and may cause feelings of loneliness or homesickness.

Financial Concerns: Relocation expenses, such as hiring movers, transportation costs, security deposits, and setting up a new home, can strain finances. Unforeseen expenses might also arise during the process.

Finding a New Home: Securing suitable housing in a new location can be stressful, especially if there’s a time constraint or limited availability in the desired area.

Job or Career Changes: Relocation might involve finding a new job or adapting to a different work environment. This can bring uncertainty and additional stress related to career adjustments.

Family Adjustments: If you're relocating with family, concerns about how everyone will adjust to the move, including children changing schools or a spouse finding new opportunities, can be stressful.

Cultural or Lifestyle Differences: Moving to a new area may involve adapting to different cultures, lifestyles, or climates, which can be challenging, especially if it’s vastly different from what you're used to.

Packing and Unpacking: The physical task of packing belongings, ensuring they’re secure for transportation, and then unpacking them in a new space can be exhausting and time-consuming.

Uncertainty and Anxiety: Not knowing what to expect in the new location can lead to anxiety about the unknown, from local amenities to the community and surroundings.

Settling In: Once you’ve arrived, settling into a new routine, making new friends, and establishing a sense of belonging in the new place can take time, causing stress during the adjustment period.

Handling these stressors often involves planning, seeking support from friends or family, and taking time to adapt to the new environment.

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Local Moves vs. Cross-Country Moves

The prospect of moving to a new home is a significant life event, one that often brings with it excitement, anticipation, and a fair share of challenges. Among the initial decisions you'll need to make on this journey is whether to pursue a local move or embark on the adventure of a cross-country relocation. These two options represent distinct paths, each with its unique set of considerations, costs, and implications. 

We will delve deeper into the nuances of local and cross-country moves to help you make an informed decision that aligns with your needs and circumstances with the help of professional removalists Central Coast. 

Distance and Scope

The most obvious distinction between local and cross-country moves is the distance involved. Local moves typically involve relocating within the same city or a nearby area, while cross-country moves span long distances, often requiring transportation across state lines or even from coast to coast. The distance factor plays a significant role in determining the logistics and costs associated with your move.

Planning and Preparation

Local moves tend to be less complex in terms of planning and preparation. You may not need to arrange for a moving truck, and the process can be completed in a single day. On the other hand, cross-country moves require meticulous planning. You'll need to consider factors such as packing, shipping, and potential storage arrangements, which can take weeks or even months of preparation.

Cost Considerations

Local moves are generally less expensive than cross-country moves due to the shorter distance and lower transportation costs. Cross-country moves involve additional expenses, such as fuel, overnight accommodations, and possibly even shipping your belongings via freight carriers. Be sure to budget accordingly for these added costs.

Timing and Scheduling

Local moves offer more flexibility when it comes to timing and scheduling. You can often plan a local move on a relatively short notice, depending on the availability of moving companies. In contrast, cross-country moves require careful scheduling to coordinate with transportation logistics and ensure that everything goes smoothly. Delays in a cross-country move can be more costly and disruptive.

Packing and Protection

Cross-country moves involve greater risks to your belongings due to the longer travel distance and handling by multiple parties. As a result, packing and protection become even more critical. Properly packing your items, labelling boxes, and using quality packing materials is essential for the success of a cross-country move. Local moves may still require careful packing, but the level of detail and protection may not be as extensive.

Hiring Professional Movers

While you can handle a local move with the help of friends and family, cross-country moves often necessitate professional movers. Experienced cross-country moving companies have the expertise and resources to manage long-distance relocations efficiently. Research and choose a reputable moving company with experience in cross-country moves to ensure a smooth transition.

Emotional and Lifestyle Considerations

The emotional and lifestyle aspects of your move should also factor into your decision. Local moves may allow you to stay within the same community, maintain your existing job, and keep your support network intact. Cross-country moves, on the other hand, may require more significant adjustments, such as adapting to a new job, climate, and social environment.

Deciding between a local move and a cross-country move depends on various factors, including distance, planning, cost, timing, packing, and personal considerations. It's essential to weigh these factors carefully to make the right choice for your unique circumstances. Whether you're embarking on a local move or a cross-country adventure, thorough planning and preparation are key to a successful transition to your new home.