Falling feels like flying

Neil who never lets Andrew carry his own bag through an airport or out of a stadium, even though Andrew is inarguably bigger and more muscled than him. Who always keeps the freezer stocked with ice cream no matter the circumstances. Who keeps a bubble of space around Andrew when they’re walking through thick crowds, always a bicep or an elbow in the way to stop people from getting too close. Who gets his wallet out every time they get dinner like Andrew doesn’t make 80% more than him. Always free shoulder and feet massages, post-game and in-bed and whenever, without Andrew ever having to ask. He always washes Andrew’s hair first in the shower, always cups the water away from his face so soap doesn’t get in his eyes.

Neil who is always down to do Anything Andrew Wants, Ever. Andrew wants to go on a drive in the middle of the night? Or an impromptu road trip in the off season? Sure, Neil’s grabbing the keys. On the road they pass a pungent, fresh-made bakery and Neil turns the car around without uttering a word. Neil, who, after years, always answers the phone when Andrew calls on the very first ring — who turns his full-attention to Andrew when he calls his name, even in the most crowded room. Who does pretty much anything Andrew asks of him and anticipates dozens of other wants and needs. Who always goes out of his way to make Andrew’s life easier. Neil, who puts Andrew above anything and everything else.

1. It’s overused and supports the current status quote of typical vampire supremacy:worshiping rich folk.

2. Vampires prey upon humans and therefore symbolize capitalists preying on the working class.

GRIME I say ‘tis dirty, wicked, foul, and dark -- An opportunity both miss’d and scorn’d -- That vampires of any shape or shade Would drink the blood of innocence most pure When Pepsi costs a dollar sev’nty five.

FIRST FOOL O lady, I must ask, and tell the truth: Wherever in this God’s green holy land Canst thou obtain this drink for such a fee? I’ve seen no less than fifty-five pence more.

GRIME A hospital, good sir.

SECOND FOOL (Does some figures)                                And might I ask Wherever in this land (of any hue) Is fellow who two dollar thirty pence Dost pay for si of Pep?

GRIME                                    Not I, i’faith. I pay a mere two shillings short of two. And, once again, I pay in hospital.

CANADIAN JESTER I pay a hefty two and half for mine. But in my blood runs maple syrup, too.

GRIME O Jester fine, I pray thee, still thyself. Thou stray’st from this, our mode of speaking here.

FIRST FOOL But blood costs naught but time.

SECOND JESTER                                                 Aye, that is true; But sir, remember this in figuring: A Pepsi, too, is free, if stolen ‘tis.

FIRST FOOL I see, but -- wait, another thought occurs. Wherefore, I ask thee, for what reason, sirs, Dost Lady Grime buy Pepsi from the house Of healing, birth, and death?

GRIME                                             ‘Tis simple, friend. Allow me to explain to thee the cause. The Pepsi sold by those who follow in The footsteps of St. Luke, Evangelist Is sold for a mere dollar sev’nty five.

FIRST HARLEQUIN (Aside, to SECOND HARLEQUIN) Why wouldst a vampire drink Pepsi, then?

SECOND HARLEQUIN (Aside, to FIRST HARLEQUIN) Why wouldst an honest man drink Pepsi, sir?

FIRST FOOL A femboy, it would seem.

(There is general applause and agreement.)

GRIME                                    O fool, a what?

Enter KONAHRIKS De’ACTIVAT EDZOZ ESQ., a SCHOLAR and WARD OF THE SKY.

WARD You see, my friends, this selfsame story tells The truth of why the incubus’s tale Is one that bears to no more to be declared. I’ll tell you all my reasons three. The first: The wealthy ghoul who drinks the common blood Is overused and stale, like molding bread; But also hangs upon the teller’s face A pallid, gasping idol worship mask. The second mark I tally here along: A vampire who sucks the blood from men Does hold up in the mind a mirror cold. This mirror shows that, far from fantasy, The vampire is real, ‘tis Elon Musk. The reason third is simple, clean, and pure: A werewolf’s just, like, sexier, my dudes.

(GRIME dances like a ferret. There is rejoicing.)

Exeunt.

Enter LARA, FELAGUND, and SHERLOCK, accompanied by the MANGO MERCHANT.

LARA I feel these words have struck me to my core. Is this, the world, collapsing to the ground Or is it just my weary, shaking soul?

FELAGUND ‘Twould seem my lady needs to see St. Luke.

SHERLOCK I’ve heard his fellows sell a Pepsi cheap.

(The MANGO MERCHANT offers a mango. All weep.)

“Lesson #1 how far can humans see”

but like…Becky, of course LGBTQ+ people existed before Stonewall. We’ve all existed since the beginning of time. But the movement got a shock to its senses, a jump-start, a rocket-into-space when that glass shattered via Marsha P. Johnson, and when Sylvia Rivera was up on-stage protesting guess who was on the sidelines heckling her?

Without a trans black woman, LGBT+ rights would not exist. Never forget. Never “pay it no mind”.

But what I haven't seen with it's own post?

In the book, Grace's amnesia is NOT caused by the coma. Stratt gave him amnesia-inducing drugs, developed for interrogation purposes, before he left. She did it on purpose.

Because in a desperate bid to save his own life, Grace threatened to sabotage the mission if he was forced into it against his will. She called his bluff -- she knows that even if he isn't a brave person, he's a good one. He wouldn't sacrifice billions of lives out of what, spite?

But there's a chance. 1% chance, a risk too high for her to take, that knowing he didn't choose this would impact his mission performance. There will be two other astronauts there to remember the details. They'll think it's a side effect of the coma. They'll all think he volunteered, and then forgot.

(Because Commander Yao is a good person. Because he refused to have anyone on his crew who didn't choose to be there. Because Eva Stratt is not a good person, at least not in that way. She knows her choice, and could not make any other.)

The drugs will wear off, eventually. Maybe after he's dead. Maybe while he's still on the mission, but she knows by then he'll be in too deep to quit just because he's remembered that she murdered him.

Is it a mercy? He's on a suicide mission either way. Why not let him believe that he chose it? It's the same mercy she tries so hard to offer, giving him those precious hours to decide. Give him the illusion of choice, hoping he'll choose right, and not notice the walls closing in.

Please, don't make this harder than it needs to me. Please, make the right choice. She's not begging on behalf of humanity. She has already taken that risk out of the equation; it is too vital a choice to be left to Grace's hands. (To any hands but her own.) She's begging for his sake, for her own, for whatever tangled-up friendship they shared. Please, let me pretend the armed security is only there as an overreaction to the explosion. Please, let yourself go onto this mission not knowing what I would have done to put you on board. Please, stay on the path I lead you on, so you don't have to press your face to the walls of the cage we're both in.

Please, let us both pretend there was a choice. Neither of us had one.

I will give you back my greatest mercy, and my greatest cruelty. You ran at every turn. You saw the chains. You pulled against them and wailed and screamed as the cold iron cut against your skin. (One day, that skin will burn at the touch of an alien risking everything to save only your life.)

Forget. Be blind to the chains once more. I grant you the grace of believing yourself to be a good person. Of believing that as doomed as you may be, at least you chose this fate yourself. I will take everything away from you -- your life, your planet, your choices and your memory -- at least I can give you this.

Don't blame me. Not until it's too late. Not until you've already proven me right.

Because Eva Stratt believes in Ryland Grace. She knows him. She believes in him so deeply she knows that forced into this challenge, he will rise to every occasion. The odds go up if he think he had a choice. Her life, the life of the whole planet, is a game of odds. Every percent chance, multiplied out across seven billion lives. Seven million lives saved for every tenth of a percent she can add to their chances. He can't remember; she can't let him.

She's right. He does it, all of it. Presented with the same choice, he chooses right. (Exactly the same choice -- save Erid at the cost of his life. The only difference is this time, he really could say no. There is no Stratt there to force him. Only Rocky, waiting and dying and alone.)

She was right. In every single individual choice, she was right. Earth is saved, and that's all that matters.

And if, for a few precious weeks, twelve light years and a suicide mission away, her best friend gets to think of her fondly? A brief window where he remembers who they were together, without remembering how it ended?

(She can never for a moment forget how it ended. How can she, when the pain of that parting is also her greatest success, her only hope?)

Well. Perhaps it is not earned. But in this doomed, star-crossing friendship, one ending in murder and deepest betrayal-