#I can't do with just 5 weeks of paid vacation

[reorientingtothexdaylight]

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[neil-gaiman]

Would you be willing to help spread word and support for healthcare workers who plan to picket and strike?

My union is planning to picket in Modesto, CA, on July 25th from 7-4pm for better wages and a better contract. For housekeeping, we're getting paid $16 to $18, while others around us are making $21 to $30. And that's not talking about us being understaffed, overworked, and reprimanded for not doing a 2+ person job perfectly when we often don't have the supplies to do it. And that's just for housekeepers.

Mind you, that's on top of being given only 6 sick days, 5 days vacation, and 1 day pto for the whole year. I can't ask for more days off, and any more call offs may lead to my termination. I had to miss LARGE family/friend events because they land on the days I work, including my sister's baby shower. I have to schedule and reschedule a few needed medical appointments weeks and months out to have it land on my day off because they had no openings before noon.

Sorry for the long text, but if you can share this or help us make some noise, that'll be extremely helpful

Happy to share, but I'm not sure there's enough information here yet for people to support you.

Good luck. I hope you get what you are asking for.

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

and for dessert?

pairing: javi x reader

cw's/tags: smut, oral sex, spanish? (i don't speak spanish), unrealistic scenarios, steve voiceover dialogue at the beginning to explain the strange plot

summary: reader is a shy hotel housekeeper of sorts (probably a CIA spy), and brings javi his room service with a special treat

a/n: 'there's a reason magical fake-ism was born in liz's mind..."

this is for @undercoverpena's birthday bash! my color for the color palette was ganache brown, and somehow, ganache is what got us here.

wc: 2k

[Steve Voiceover]: And if I told you that the CIA gave us an all expenses paid vacation at a 5 star hotel with women dressed like French maids providing around the clock service, including "special favors", would you believe me? No? Good. Because that didn't happen. Even if it did, they'd be expecting something in return -- to talk about one thing or to shut up about another. Peña and I aren't liars, but if we were on trial, and the CIA had any stake, this is how they could've won us over. At least, this is Javi's version of the story. 

Sitting in a California king size bed, wearing nothing but a robe embroidered with hotel's logo, Javi sifts through his own guilt to find some self-pity that'll allow him to enjoy this period of respite amidst the general chaos that comes with his career. He and Murphy are given separate rooms -- must be a real special case, considering how much the DEA does to cut corners, thereby cutting costs, and god only knows how much this room would cost him for a week. Escobar levels of cash. 

He gets room service, fresh towels, and a cute girl who delivers them daily. When the CIA wants to influence your testimony, they've got to butter you up first. Actually, they don't. They could torture Javi, threaten his family, even disappear him. Maybe there's poison in his breakfast -- which he eats in bed while watching pay-per-view movies.

The steak you bring him for dinner is good, but the uniform you wear is great. He knows he's being sedated, and he takes it willingly. His dick takes it eagerly -- that specific part of him is the opposite of sedated. 

For the first time in his life, Javi gets tired of jerking off.

"Goddamnit. Really?"

He must be going stir-crazy, talking to his dick like that.

It'd be more convenient for him to stay naked, but he keeps his himself covered out of respect for you. He figures you probably don't get paid enough to wait on nude men, though he doubts it'd be the first time you'd walked into a hotel room to find a man in his birthday suit. Men are gross. Javi can be nasty, but he understands that timing is key. Keep it classy until she asks for it not to be.

Javi's not stupid enough to think the CIA can't hear his phone calls. He doesn't know why they even leave the phone in the room. Maybe for the typical American illusion of freedom or maybe they're just too lazy to come and unplug it.

He could call the concierge, he might even be able to call you. But for some fucking reason, he's on the phone with Steve, who's right down the hall. 

Just to fuck with him, Javi asks, "What are you wearing right now?"

"Uh, A T-shirt and boxers… why?"

"I was joking. Never had phone sex?" He figures the CIA doesn't pay whoever's listening to these calls enough, so he'll give them a little tease as a treat.

"'Course I have." Steve's not the stud that Javi is but his wife's on a different continent, so he'd believe it. "Are you trying to have phone sex with me?"

"I'm not that desperate yet."

"Haven't gone through all the porn on TV yet?"

"Not yet. Still making my way through the stepmom shit. Not really my thing."

There's a lull before Steve suggests something so out of character that Javi would think he was joking in any other circumstance.

"Is your, uh, housekeeper… nice?"

"By nice you mean hot?"

"Yeah."

"Very."

"Wonder if we have the same one."

Javi describes your appearance in detail to Steve - he'd do great as an eye witness if he only had to remember gorgeous women. Steve's description of his housekeeper is more brief but enough to confirm that they are attended to by separate women.

"Guess attractiveness is part of the qualifications," Steve remarks.

"Well, better hope you still have a job after all this 'cause you're sure not getting one here."

"Fuck off. Just 'cause you fuck around doesn't mean you're the hot one in this partnership. In case you've forgotten, I'm the one with the beautiful wife."

"Yeah, and she's way outta your league. Still don't know how you pulled her."

Steve ignores Javi's comment, and continues to brag, "plus, Little Miss Housekeeper said I'm very attractive."

"Oh yeah? How much did you pay her?"

"Nada. Did yours call you 'hermoso'? Did she offer you any extra favors?"

"Extra favors?"

Javi can hear Steve's smug grin on the other end. "She told me 'we do anything to ensure our guests have a pleasurable experience'."

"You think that's real or she was just coming onto you?"

"Dunno. You should try asking your girl- speak of the motherfuckin' devil." And Steve hangs up the phone.

In less than a minute, there's a knock on Javi's door.

"Agent Peña?" He hears your sweet voice say from outside the door, and while the fantasies fly through his head, he forgets a crucial mistake he's made which is not bothering to put on clothes after he'd taken a shower, leaving him in only in a towel when you open the door.

And he's rock-fucking-hard.

You walk in with room service. Fuck. He forgot he'd ordered dessert. Typical display, silver platter atop white tablecloth plus utensils and other expected accoutrements. You're focused on pushing the cart so at first you don't notice but when you do, you apologize profusely.

"Oh my god, Agent Peña. I am so sorry, sir." You turn away from him, fidgeting awkwardly as you stand facing the wall.

"No, it's my fault. I'm sorry. I forgot that I ordered dessert. I'll get my pants on so you don't have to see anything."

"Oh. I don't mind--I mean, that's not my concern. I just want to respect your privacy."

"My privacy? If I could walk around naked all the time I would."

"You would?" You take a glance over your shoulder and he's managed to put on his boxers, and is now reaching for a pair of jeans. "You don't mind people seeing you?"

"No," he says, stopping with one leg halfway in his pants, unsure of what you want.

"Well, you are an attractive man, so--I hope you don't mind me saying that."

"I don't. I just hope they pay you well to dish out compliments."

"The compliments are not required by my contract. I was just thinking out loud…" You trail off, shyly looking to the side.

"In that case, I hope you don't mind me saying that you're a very attractive woman."

"Thank you, sir."

God, it goes straight to his dick. There's not much he can do to hide it since he's given up on the jeans idea. (And, let's face it, those jeans leave nothing to the imagination). 

"So, I brought dessert," you transition. 

Usually, you're incredibly professional and prepared, like you've practiced every word in the mirror, but now, you look flustered. It's adorable when you struggle to find the words to describe the dessert. It's almost like you've forgotten what it is until you pull the lid off the tray to reveal it.

"Wow," he says, genuinely in awe of the decadence presented before him.

"It's a chocolate cake with chocolate ganache and strawberries on top… as you can see."

"It's probably poisoned, but I'll risk it anyway. This looks really fuckin' good."

You smile hesitantly and nod, periodically glancing towards the door like you're trying to figure out how to exit the conversation.

"Well, I'll leave you to it," you say, turning to leave the room.

But before your hand reaches the doorknob, Javi says, "Stay."

"Huh?"

"If you can -- If you want to."

"I can, yeah." You walk back towards him, slowly, stopping at the edge of the bed like you're unsure where to go from here.

"Need help getting up here?" he teases.

"No, I can do it," you say, though it does look taxing to climb up onto the tall mattress in those heels.

You sit so prim and proper like a little doll, perfectly posed, which makes Javi feel particularly ill-mannered as he's already devoured almost an entire slice of cake.

"Want some?" he asks, sucking icing off his finger just to see your reaction. And it's even more delicious than the cake itself.

"O-okay." You nod.

He grabs a bite of cake on his fork and brings it towards your mouth like you're newlyweds at your reception. You let him feed you, maintaining eye contact while eat and lick your lips clean. You're playing his game. You must be.

"So, your job here- is it mostly delivering food and towels or is there other stuff you do?"

"We do whatever the guests want… within reason."

"Give me an example."

You not-so-subtly glance at his boxer-clad cock, and then back at his face. "As long as it's legal, we can do whatever we want for the most part."

"And what do you want?"

When you look down, away from his eyes, getting all nervous again, he lifts your chin. "Dime lo que quieres," he says, much softer.

"I want you. I want to make you feel good."

You get closer to him, he thinks you're going for his lips but you're not, your hand brushes his bare stomach and slides down, but you stop at his waistband.

"May I?"

"Fuck yes."

For a shy girl, you sure know what you're doing. You get him riled up with playful licks around the tip, a flick of the tongue up the slit that makes him gasp, and you press sloppy kisses down his length, leaving lipstick marks all along his shaft.

It's not long before he feels his orgasm start to build, so he swiftly pulls you up, so that you're on your knees. You look almost dazed, especially so with your makeup all messy. He coaxes your hips up further until your core hovers over his face.

Javi has a one track mind when it comes to these kinds of things. Pussy makes him stupid. Earlier that day he fantasized about what color panties you might be wearing under your skirt. He had to force himself to look away when you bent down to grab something you'd dropped, he'd feel like a creep knowing he'd get off to a mishap like that. But he imagined you in pink, red, white, lace, satin, and everything in between.

He's surprised to find that you're not wearing any of those, you're not wearing anything at all.

He quirks an eyebrow up at you. "Brought me dessert, huh, hermosa?"

You nod. Yes, of course you did. Warm and glazed with your arousal.

"Quiero saborearte," he whispers, dragging you towards his eager mouth. 

You're perfectly pliant for him. His grip on your hips, your ass, your thighs is steady but gentle. He tries to take his time. A woman is a delicacy. He should savor you. He gets lost in the sweetness, buries his face between your thighs and allows his restrained dedication to become messy and reverent.

You call him by his first name for the first time. Javier. It's all he recognizes in your jumbled sentences.

He hums an affirmation. Mm-hmm. You're okay. Mm-hmm. I know. Mm-hmm. Please, give it to me. Let go.

Your climax hits so hard you lurch forward and grab the headboard while Javi guides you through it. With how loud you're being, he's certain Murphy will be calling him to congratulate him on his good work.

But before that, he realizes the mistake he's made -- a cardinal sin if making love is a religion (and the way Javi views it, it should be) -- he hasn't kissed you.

"Dame un beso," he says.

When you kiss him, he finds that your lips are just as sweet as the other pair between your thighs.

[questionableratatouille00]

ʜɪɢʜᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʟʟ ᴄʜ. 4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: In an effort to get the two of you to bond, Tony Stark sends you and the ex-assassin Bucky Barnes on a road trip together. The problem? You hate each other. The situation? Two weeks in a car together. The reward: three days of a resort vacation. And the problem? He's kinda cute.

Warnings (Entire Series): Enemies-to-lovers, cursing, sexual tension, angst, fluff, crying, fighting, violence, chaos, mentions/talk of trauma, discussions of mental health, and potentially more.

Warnings: Enemies-to-lovers, cursing, sexual tension, reader wears lipstick and mascara, heels, and a dress, mentions of death, insecurity on Bucky's part, crying (reader), arguments, blood, dancing, eating and food, reader throws a punch at Bucky, mentions of Bucky not doing so well, mentions of Bucky's trauma in general, and Bucky is probably written wrong. (Trying my best lmao)

A/n: Sorry the updates for this are so inconsistent- I can't commit to an update schedule. My requests are always open for almost every Avenger, and I'd love to hear your thoughts about the series! I'd like to build up my collection of stories before I set up a masterlist. Thank you for reading!

||Part 3|| Part 4 || Part 5

[Series Masterlist]

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𝑻𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔, 𝑻𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑻𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒕

🄳🄰🅈 2, 🄽🄸🄶🄷🅃

You pulled him to the food stand, excitedly looking around the little square. People from well into their nineties to kids who couldn't be older than five were all dressed up. You and Bucky blended in incredibly well.

"What do you think you're gonna get?" You asked Bucky, intending to pay.

"Not sure. Might just get a burger and fries."

"That sounds good. I'm not sure what I want yet. Everything looks amazing."

When the family in front of you got their food and left, you quickly made your decision, and Bucky made his. Just as you were about to put your card into the card swipe machine, Bucky beat you to it. When you opened your mouth to argue, Bucky gave you a sharp glare, silently telling you to shut the fuck up.

“I was going to—“ You begin, but he cuts you off quickly. “I got it.” He paid quickly for the meal, before leading you off to a table. There were a bunch of circle tables set up in a rectangle. In the center, people danced in small circles or in sets of twos.

Setting the plastic baskets on the table, Bucky pulled out a chair for you. “What a gentleman.” You tease, and he just rolls his eyes.

The band played covers of old songs, and you couldn’t help but wonder if Bucky recognizes any of them.

Once the both of you wolfed down the delicious food, you looked around. The band was loud, so you had to talk at a slightly louder volume than normal. There were lots of couples, ranging from elderly couples slowly swaying together, to newlyweds quickly moving and bouncing to the upbeat music. You noticed Stacy, the long-haired brunette who worked at the Brandon Center. She was in her own baby blue 40’s dress, which paired well with her hair and bright green eyes.

She was standing at a table in front of her Aunt Brenda, and Barbara from the hotel. Her grandma and her great aunt live up here, you remember. She’d said so at the store. Barbara and Brenda were also dressed up, smiling and laughing at something Stacy said. Stacy was standing, but Barbara and Brenda were sitting together.

You looked to Bucky who was zoning out. “You alright there?” You asked, and he snapped his gaze up to meet yours.

“Fine.” He assured. "Dance with me."

"What?" You look at him, bewildered.

"Dance with me." He repeats, standing up before pulling you out of your chair by your hands. "Why are you--" He pulls you to the makeshift dance floor, before pulling you close to him.

"Shut up and dance with me."

"Y'know, that's a song." You felt it was important to note this.

"Weird." He states, before he glances past you, his eyes narrowing.

"If looks could kill." You commented, and he focused back on you. "Who're you looking at?"

"The douchebag who's been staring at you for the past eight minutes." When you turned your head to look back, Bucky stepped to the side, forcing you to swing your body to avoid being crashed into.

"You've been watching him?" You thought it was weird that the guy who hated your guts seemingly wanted to keep you safe.

"Shut up." He glared at you, before he continued to sway with you to the rhythm of the song.

"I thought you said you couldn't dance."

"I said that I didn't. Not that I couldn't." He muttered, before spinning you.

You instantly recognized the opening notes of 'It's Been a Long, Long Time', and you look to Bucky, who also seemed to recognize it.

You laugh as the two of you continue to sway to the music together, before the song ends. Bucky keeps his hands on your hips, your hands on his shoulders. “I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot. You’re not that bad.” You grin goofily. “You’re not so bad either.” Bucky looked at you, a small grin on his face.

“Friends?”

“Something like that. You’re a punk.”

“And you’re a dick.” You shot back.

It was impossible to miss how all of the couples close to you glance at Bucky's hand, clearly metal against your red dress.

"They're all staring at me like I'm some kind of monster." He mutters darkly, beginning to pull away. You pull him closer. "Who gives a shit.”

“I do. Tony does. The Avenger’s PR team does.” He retorted.

“Okay, smart ass.” You rolled your eyes, before glancing around. One old guy was staring at Bucky, as were the surrounding groups of people. “We can go, if you want. My feet kinda hurt.” You lied, hoping that if you gave a reason to go, he’d feel better about agreeing. When he gave you a simple nod, you smiled. You lead him to the truck, taking him by the hand. Once you reached it, you stepped down off the curb, opening the passenger door.

“That was..fun. For you, right? Like, you’re doing okay?” You asked after a few minutes. Everybody in the tower knew about Bucky’s nightmares and night terrors. Whether it was from hearing him scream late in the night or in the earliest hours of the morning, or if it was from being the one to wake him up from them a few times. It was just something that nobody talked about. Noticing his expression, you began to worry. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” He grimaced.

“Don’t bullshit me, Barnes.”

“It’s none of your business. Drop it.”

“Is that what you tell Steve?”

Bucky’s eyes leave the road for a moment as he stares at you.

“Watch the road.”

“I am.” He grumbles. “And it’s still none of your business.”

“Buck, he wants to help you.” You try and convince him of this, but he’s barely listening. “Drop it, L/n.” He was holding on to the steering wheel so tight that the knuckles of his right hand were white.

“I’m not gonna ‘drop it’, Barnes! You need help and clearly you’re not getting it!” You shouted, and he responded by slamming on the breaks, letting you slam your hands into the dashboard.

He turned in his seat to look at you. “And how would you know? What, like you’re my goddamn best friend or some shit? You’re fucking not. We aren’t even friends!”

Of course you knew that you weren’t friends. Obviously. But you didn’t need the bitchy Bucky Barnes to remind you. Seething, you decided that you were done with this shit, and you didn’t care what Nat or Tony had to say about it.

“No fucking shit! Thank you so much, Sherlock Holmes! And for once, you’re actually right! I’m not your friend! Thank you for making that clear for me. In fact, I’m so grateful that I’ll give you what you've wanted since the beginning, you bitch!” You unbuckle your seatbelt, before pressing the ‘unlock’ button.

Hopping out of the truck, Bucky began to copy you. “You can’t leave!” He said, and his tone sounded like he was accusing you of something. You responded by sticking both middle fingers up near your chest. “Watch me!” You slammed the door shut, before walking back towards the town. You were too busy arguing with him to notice that he’d been driving the wrong way.

The air was cold away from the warm lighting and moving bodies of the tiny town square. Though you’d been lying before, your feet really did start to hurt now. You weren’t positive if it was because of the uneven road or just having on heels for a while.

You made it maybe fifteen quick steps away before you heard Bucky’s door slam shut. His shoes made noise against the road. Before he could say anything, you whirled around to face him. He stopped, five feet away from you. He opened his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it.

"Have you ever considered that maybe it's you? Everyone keeps leaving you and you keep acting surprised. It's because you push them away, James! You push them away!" Your voice becomes shrill at the end of your statement. "You push Nat away, you push Sam away, you push Clint away! Wanda, Tony, Pepper, Scott, Peter, Thor, Loki, Rhodey, Yelena, Kate. You shut them all out! You push Steve away! You pushed me away!"

He flinches at the mention of Steve. "You don't understand." Bucky called out, looking up and to the side.

"Then explain it to me then, Bucky. Explain it!" It was more of a begging shout than an angry one. "What, are you worried that he'll leave you or some shit? Cause he's not! I followed him halfway across the world for you!"

"He's the only person who's left! He's all I've got left, the last good thing I have!"

"Probably because you refuse to do anything but glare at everybody else! So you can go ahead and be by yourself! Serves you right!" You spin around, beginning to walk back to town again. You're too angry to check if he's still following you.

You find out once you feel a hand on your shoulder. Filled with rage, you spin around and punch him right in the face. You regret it immediately as you feel the stinging pain in your fist.

He lets out a loud 'fuck!' as he clutches his jaw. His brows furrow and he looks up at you, eyes wide and furious. You know you've fucked up. Quickly kicking off your shoes, you turn and race down the road, knowing that he was right behind you. Shit, shit, shit, you repeated in your head.

When you realized that running in a straight line wasn't the best idea, you veered off to the side, and you paused when you felt your bare feet halfway in dirt, your heels still on the uneven asphalt. However, stopping so suddenly in the dark caused Bucky to crash right into, sending you both tumbling downward. It would've been fine, had there not been a huge hill four feet away from the road.

The two of you fell down the huge hill, holding onto each other for dear life. You cursed Tony for choosing a route that involved tiny towns in the kind-of-almost mountains. When it was over, you both laid there for a moment. Bucky had landed on top of you, and you struggled to breathe. Shoving him off of you, you stared up into the starry sky. Something about it made you want to take back what you'd thought about Tony. At least the sky was pretty.

You got up at the same time he did. The two of you looked at each other, tense. You weren't sure if he was still pissed about the whole punching-him-thing. But God, the fall hurt. Your head hurt. Your back hurt. As did your legs and arms and face and literally almost every part of you.

"Fuck you, Barnes." Was all you said, before you began walking forward. You'd tumbled just far enough that you were basically in the forest, but you could still see the hill you fell from. You were insanely dizzy, but the pain of the bottom of your feet stepping on pine needles, sticks, stones, and other weird forest floor things grounded you. You followed the hill in the direction you assumed the town was in. Bucky did not follow.

You walked for maybe fifteen minutes, only tripping twice. You had a few scratches on your arms that bled a little bit, but the reason your left leg hurt so much was most likely from the huge scratch on the side of it. The actual cut went from just under your knee to the middle of your leg, but the long line of blood that flowed from it made it look like it went down all the way to the bottom of your foot.

When the dizziness and pain was too much, you gave in and sat up against a tree. You felt like Katniss Everdeen from the first The Hunger Games book.

God, today had been shitty. Well, the night had been shitty. You felt horrible, both physically and mentally. You regretted picking the fight with Bucky. You regretted forcing him to go to that stupid fucking dance anyway. You regretted even stopping in this stupid town. Tears welled up in your eyes as you reconsidered every choice you'd ever made. You sat under a tree, sobbing quietly, for what felt like years. Eventually you got tired of it, and you decided to just look up.

The sky was beautiful. It was the kind of dark, starry sky that had splashes of blue in it. It was like someone had water colored it. You knew you weren't going to die. You're an Avenger, goddamn it.

The sound of sticks breaking tore you from your thoughts. You believed it was a wild animal, at first. But even with the darkness, you could tell who it was. Bucky Barnes, the one hundred and six year-old Super Soldier.

"Don't act like you're not happy to see me like this." You called out as he stepped closer.

"Your mascara's smudged. Makes you look like a raccoon." He says quietly.

"Yeah. I know." You probably rubbed at your face more than once.

He was close enough that you could see his face. He looked..remorseful.

"Don't look at me like you're sorry. You're not sorry."

He said nothing, but you could tell he disagrees. He stood beside you, and he was quiet for a moment.

"Your leg is bleeding." He said, pointing it out.

“Oh really? I didn’t notice that half of my goddamn blood is flowing out of my leg, but thank you for letting me know.”

“It’s not half of your blood, L/n.” He rolled his eyes.

“I’m sorry. For punching you.” You say quietly. “I don’t regret what I said, though. It’s true. They all..we all want to help you. But we can’t because—“

“I know.” He cuts you off. “I’m sorry too.”

“Do you have any idea where the truck is?” You ask, and he responds by pointing behind him. Great, you thought. You’d been walking the wrong way the whole time.

“You sure?” He nods in response. “The serum made my eyesight better. I can kind of see in the dark.” He explained. You nodded, sighing. You watched in confusion as he began taking off his jacket.

“I’m sure you’d make a wonderful stripper but I really don’t need you to prove it to me—“

“What? No. This is for your leg.” He begins to wipe up the blood, and you make a hiss-like sound once he applies a little too much pressure to the actual cut.

“Sorry.” He mutters. “It’s only gonna keep bleeding if you walk on it. I’ll carry you.”

“What? Hell no. No. I’ll-“ You’re interrupted by Bucky scooping you up and holding you against his back.

“I am not piggyback riding a Super Soldier. Period.” You protested, but he began walking, leaving you no choice but to hang on. “You’re the worst.” Mumbling that into his shoulder, you trusted that he was leading you in the right direction.

You made it to the truck, and Bucky sat you in the passenger seat. You drove in silence all the way back to the hotel. You finally got a look at yourself in the mirror, and you nearly laughed. You looked crazy.

When you finally got to the hotel, Bucky began to help you to the elevator.

You walked past Barbara, and she stopped you. “Are you alright there, sweetheart?”

“Oh, yes.” You lied. “I ended up getting a bit of dirt in my eyes.”

“Alright. You two make a beautiful couple.” She smiled.

“Oh, no—we’re not—uhm. No.” You rushed out.

“Oh. I’m sorry. Have a good night.” She said, beginning to look back at her desk. “You too.” You said quietly, looking down at your feet.

Getting up to the right floor, Bucky helped you into your room, and you grabbed the first-aid kit. You mentally thanked Kate and Steve, who insisted you bring it. It didn’t take much to clean up all the little scratches on your arms and legs, and even the larger scratch didn’t take much effort. You showered and changed as Bucky did the same in his room. You kept the doors between your rooms open, just in case either of you needed anything.

Finally comfortable in your pajamas, you sighed as you sat at the foot of your bed. You considered watching the TV that faced your bed, but your exhaustion won against it.

“You alright?” Bucky said from the doorframe, snapping you from your thoughts.

“Fine.” You mumbled. “Tired.”

He nodded. “Me too. I’m gonna..head to bed. Good night.” He turned, beginning to walk back into his room.

“Stay? With..me?” You hated how small you sounded. You felt like one of those girls from romance novels. Or from internet stories about celebrities and whatnot. You’d said it quietly, after he’d walked back into his own room. He hadn’t even heard you. Maybe it was for the best.

You didn’t really mind it once you crawled under the covers, flipping the light switch on the lamp next to your bed. Today hadn’t even felt real. And it was only the second day of the trip. Damn.

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(My apologies if your blog couldn't be tagged- I have no idea why it won't work.)

Taglist: @afraidofshrimp @laughterafter @cjand10 @kandis-mom @emmsybucky @mrsnotfeelingsogood @matchat3a

[infamousbrad]

For a few years now, I've taken multiple opportunities to ask groups of my fellow Americans the same question: "do you think early 21st century America is a good place to raise a child?" Answers varied from person to person, even among parents of children, from "yeah, pretty good" all the way down to "oh hell no." Rather than give my answer, and go into my reasons (for now) let's look at a report card ranking 35 major countries by several criteria, that just rated only Mexico as worse than the USA as a place to raise a family.

Safety: F. Based on homicide rate, average fear of crime, risk of dying to war or terrorism, school shootings per capita, and protection of civil rights for all. We did okay on most of the sub-ratings, but barely mediocre on civil rights and, well, obviously insanely bad compared to everybody else on school shootings.

Happiness: C+. Based on the human freedom index, world happiness index, per-capita suicide rate, household income inequality, and whether or not some families are discriminated against in adoption rights. I couldn't quickly find the sub-ratings on this one, but the USA came out pretty average.

Cost: F. Based on child care costs, per household family support spending, out-of-pocket educational costs, out-of-pocket health spending, and income-adjusted cost of living. The UK and New Zealand were even worse on child-care costs, but the US came in dead last in every other sub-category. We are the only country that expects those costs to be entirely born by parents who currently have minor children instead of spreading them out across all households.

Health: D-. Based on maternal mortality rate, child mortality rate, access to contraception, air pollution level, and average life expectancy. Because we're not in the bottom 5, I again can't easily find the US ranking on each of those sub-ratings, but I imagine we really got hit on our maternal mortality rate.

Education: C+. Based on teen enrollment rate, early-20s enrollment rate, average reading performance, average math performance, and average science performance. We weren't in the top or bottom 5 so, again, I don't know our detailed rankings but we did end up above average. And finally ...

Time: F. Based on time off per worker, weeks of paid maternity leave, weeks of paid paternity leave, weeks of mandatory paid sick leave, weeks of mandatory paid vacation leave. Only Mexico gave its workers fewer hours off work, and we are the only country in the survey to have a zero in all four other categories.

Across all countries: Only 5 of the 35 countries got an A+ overall. Starting with the highest score: Iceland, Norway, Sweden, Finland, and Luxembourg. Only two countries got an F, the US and Mexico. If you choose to have and raise a family in the United States, you will bear a higher percentage of those expenses than almost any country in the world, your children will be in more physical danger and health danger than anywhere in the industrialized world outside of an active war zone, and you will have less time with them, less time to parent them, than parents anywhere else surveyed.

So, you tell me: in your opinion, is the United States of America in the early 21st century a good place to have and raise children, or not?

Not to beg, but I'd really appreciate more eyes on this, please? Especially from my fellow Americans and doubly-so from people who have kids or who have recently raised kids?

[molsno]

I feel like it's foolish of me to fantasize about getting this job that a recruiter brought to me today.

it feels too perfect. my passion project for the past 5 years has given me the exact skillset they're looking for, after all.

the pay is unbelievable, beyond anything I've ever dreamed about. literally double what I was getting paid before, at minimum. on top of that, it comes with full benefits and unlimited vacation time. sure, it would require me to stay in this area, but would that really be so bad? how could I not fantasize about a job like this?

but part of me knows that no matter how qualified I am for it, they'll still find a way to turn me down. I don't have the privilege to deserve a life like that. even if they checked out my passion project and realized just how talented I am, I have a feeling that my hopes will be dashed. one interview is all it takes for an employer to realize I'm not what they're looking for.

can they see it in my features, I wonder? do I look a little too clocky for their liking? can they hear it in my voice? I genuinely can't tell, but there has to be something. there's no other explanation I can think of for why every time I get an interview, even when I think it went really well, I get ghosted, or if I'm lucky, I receive an email weeks later telling me the position has already been filled. I know it's not my skills that are the issue.

it's funny. people seem to think that people like me have "male privilege". that I'm a "tech bro" whose "male socialization" puts me ahead of the rest of the community. I wonder what they would think if they knew that my last and only job was a predatory contracting firm that forced me to move across the country with less than a month's notice under threat of legal action, and that I knew exactly what I was getting into when I signed a contract with them because it was either that or nothing. the best I could get as a tranny was the absolute bottom of the barrel in the industry I decided to dedicate my life to.

sometimes I think about how much easier it all would have been if I was a man. my accomplishments would be taken seriously, my appearance wouldn't be judged, my personality would be viewed as "eccentric" instead of "incompetent". I could be making even more than what this job offers me. wouldn't that just be wonderful?

sometimes I think back to when I was first considered the possibility that I might be trans, the sleepless nights where I was paralyzed with terror over how I would be treated. I was always told I had a future, but there I was, considering ripping it all away. I couldn't imagine why on earth I would give up my "male privilege", and yet I wanted to anyway.

the more and more I thought about it, in fact, the more I came to realize that holding onto it was a guarantee that I would have no future. I had already decided that I would kill myself when I turned 30, for no particular reason at all. maybe I could regain some economic opportunities if I detransitioned, but there is no belief I'm more certain about than the fact that if I did, I would end my life sooner than I originally planned to.

in other words, to me, the only privilege that would come with being male is that I would no longer have to live under capitalism.

so, maybe it's unrealistic to believe I could still attain such success. but I'm a trans woman. that's all I've ever been, and that's all I ever will be. and because of that, I have to believe that I have a future. transitioning was not an act of destruction. it was, is, and will always be an act of creation, the synthesis of life itself.

even if it's foolish to dream, I'll do it anyway. because that's what it means to be alive.

[metalheadsforblacklivesmatter]

Things about America that would give Europeans a heart attack.

Many Americans are expected to drive AN HOUR to work every day. Europeans don't even visit their mom regularly if she lives 30 minutes away.

We measure distance traveled in time. Because sometimes driving 15 miles can take as long as driving 45 miles. How long you'll be in a vehicle is most important.

Zoning laws. Many of us actually do like to walk. Our major cities were designed by automotive lobbyists to force us to buy cars.

Food deserts. There's some places in America with literally zero grocery stores within 5 miles of your home.

Hospital bills. 1 emergency room visit can cost tens of thousands of dollars. Not to mention the $15,000 of you need an ambulance.

Mental health. You can be forced into grippy sock jail against your will. Then stuck with a bill that costs tens of thousands of dollars when you get out.

Speaking of medical bills. Credit reports. Remember that medical bill that costs tens of thousands of dollars? That goes on your credit report if you can't pay it. Which makes it harder to rent, buy a house, buy a car, or get a credit card.

Retirement. You can't get social security until you're 62 and social security isn't enough to live on. You're supposed to be saving money to retire on, on top of that. And based on your family's health history and cost of living. It's not unusual to need $1-2 million to retire. And it's not unusual for people to have to work into their 80s.

College. A hundred thousand dollars in student loan debt isn't unheard of and many Americans are never able to pay it off in their lifetime because interest is like 5-8%. Also. That goes on your credit report.

Minimum wage. I don't necessarily believe that Europeans would be shocked that minimum wage doesn't cover the cost of living here. But there's people that live here that are suprised to find out our minimum wage is $7.20. I've gotten into arguments over this, several times. If Americans don't believe it, how can I expect a European to?

Lack of public transit. Only like, major cities have public transit, and only a few of them have reliable public transit.

Lack of labor unions and union busting. Many European countries like France will go on nation wide strikes if an oligarch sneezes wrong. Companies in America will shut down business in entire states if the unions are getting too strong. Honestly I'm kinda surprised that we don't strike more.

Lack of paid vacation time. In a lot of countries 6 weeks is like normal. My last job I got none. And people legitimately didn't believe me when I said I had to work on Christmas or not get paid (yeah, it was a desk job). Again. If Americans can't believe it. Why would I expect Europeans to? Also I feel like Europeans would just die from the burnout because it's not uncommon for Americans to literally work themselves to death.

No. For real. I have people mad at me because I couldn't go to a family friend's wedding because they didn't believe I didn't have labor day off.

-fae

[pettyprocrastination]

I turn 23 in 30 minutes

(discussion of mental health, depression, and body image/body weight).

I'm queuing this post ahead of time in hopes that by midnight I will be asleep like a responsible adult because I do in fact have work in the morning (fixing my sleep schedule is a slow and steady race I promise you all) but this is just a sort of. reflection? on my year and my thoughts on reaching another big age.

nobody needs to look at this- I'm just using this as a journal because I'm pretty sure mine is still in the trunk of my car from when I went on vacation.

anywhoo. I turn 23 in 30 minutes. And its. weird?

But still nice.

I started this year off in a horrendous spot.

I was 112 lbs, still working my shit retail job where i'd go and cry in the bathroom just about every single shift for the next two months. I didn't want to eat, sleep, shower, or interact with anybody. I hadn't felt like this since my stepfather died and even then it wasn't as severe. I hated myself and blamed myself for everything wrong in my life, I felt like a ghost in my own body.

But slowly, things began to improve.

I have a new job now, a 9 to 5 that I enjoy yet I'm unfortunately going to have to return to the job hunt soon so I can find one that gives me benefits as I can't stay on my family's health insurance forever (the joys of adulthood) but It still feels good to have that dedicate schedule where I get to work with my hands and get paid for it every Monday through Friday.

I'm spending more time with my friends. Last week I spent a week at the beach with a dear friend of mine and a collection of her own friends, none of which I had met before. I was absolutely petrified initially but had the time of my life with them all, ending the wonderful experience with going to my first ever concert and crying from the joy of it all. (it was hozier.)

I'm pushing myself to do more and go out- I'm in a coaching position for my roller derby league, I recently attended a practice scrimmage with players who have been in this sport for 8+ years and while I fully believed I didn't belong in this space, I was able to hold my own and had so much fun getting to play with all of them. I don't know if i'll be able to try out for the state league because of scheduling- but maybe some day further down the line.

I took a day trip out of state to go to an all women's gym with friends at my university before I graduated. One thing to know about me is that I go to the gym alone about 99.9% of the time. I'm not good at social situations, especially ones in new areas so the notion initially was one I was ready to dismiss- but how often do you get chances like that?

I've signed up for my first ever powerlifting meet. I'm still very new to the gym with less than a year of weight lifting under my belt, but i've told myself this is the year to push myself and become somebody I'm proud of nobody how hard it is going to be. I've always loved powerlifting and want to get into the sport so bad but I can't afford a coach nor do I want to sign up for a full competition without knowing the ins and outs of the first event. I found a local deadlifting competition for a pride foundation next month and signed up for it with the goal of increasing my deadlift by at least 10 lbs by then. I'm simply competition against myself and trying to see how much I can progress during that time, which is something I really love about the sport. I'm still a fucking lightweight loser when it comes to heavy lifting- but at least this way I'll be able to see what a meet is like and learn what to expect.

I started going to therapy beginning of February/late January. It's been a saving grace honestly. Having an unbiased professional I can sit and talk and cry to has been quite the saving outlet. I rent a private study room at the library once every week for our meetings and it's become a little ritual of my own that i'm quite fond of now. (take this as your reminder that your local public library has so many amazing resources that even if you don't read often you can still use!!) though I've only been going for a few months, it's helped me drastically in how I view myself and letting others in during moments of weakness.

I'm allowing myself to rely on my friends. It isn't easy. And honestly sometimes I fucking hate it and feel pathetic for it- but my friends have been there for me so goddamn much within the past few months I honestly don't know where I'd be without them. There are days where I'd rather curl up In my bed and not speak to a single soul about how I feel because there's nothing I fear more than being a burden to those I love- but I have to remind myself that they want to be there for me the same way I want to be there for them. If they need me to pull back they'll simply communicate that desire and I will do so, but I can't keep assuming the worst when I need to rely on somebody for love and support. It's hard to not feel like a burden in those moments, that I'm exhausting those I love- but I also know I would do the same for them any day of the week. "Shared joy is double the joy, shared sorrow is half the sorrow".

I'm back at 124 lbs. I know it may not seem like much to others but gaining back that 12 lbs over four months has been such an uphill battle not only due to my own genetics+metabolism that makes gaining weight a fucking pain in the ass, but also keeping myself accountable when my mental health is at an all time low to still eat full meals and take care of my body. The moment I stepped on the scale and saw those numbers I cried real tears. I still want to gain more weight, but seeing that improvement helped me realize I am in fact improving and not just staying in this permanent transition period of stagnation for the rest of my life as I've feared.

I'm kinder to myself. At least, I'm trying to do so. I've found that the reality of life is that it's infinitely easier to blame yourself for everything and rot in self loathing rather than take a step back to go "actually- that's not true" and find the strength to go forward while also being aware of what you can do to better yourself as a person, not just for others, but for your own sake at well.

That being said- not every day is meant for self-analysis and introspection. Some days it's okay to just cry and eat some fucking candy bars on the couch my friends.

I'm slowly finding the joy and energy to write again. It's been a hassle to do so- working a 9 to 5 while also going to the gym and then doing chores leaves very little time and energy for other passions- but I've found it's annoying but meaningful work to dedicate time for the little things that make you happy. I've started by promising myself to limit my screentime by not using my phone as much during the day- my lunch breaks at work are spent typing away on a little e-ink word processor I treated myself to instead of doom scrolling on my phone. I've written three short little stories on it, some of them fanfiction others are not- while also beginning a horror project that i've thought about for a year now and want to see where it will go in the end. It's nothing as grand at the 10k beautifully written fics you all create- but I'm finding my passion again and it feels quite nice. I'd like to create something submission worthy this summer, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it.

I'd like to set myself the goal of being able to afford an apartment next year. My family plans on moving cities within a year so it will give me time to save up more money and maybe even get back to making little things on the side to help earn some extra pocket cash for that dream while also paying off my student loans.

I'm not anywhere near the woman I thought i'd at 23 when I was 18 years old. I still live at home, I'm not using my major for my career, nor am I doing anything particularly astounding in my life. But I think that it's okay- and I'm proud of the progress I have made to get myself to this position.

Tomorrow I will spend my birthday at work. Then I will go for a walk (or perhaps a skate?) listen to some music, treat myself to a little sweet drink in my budget and then go see the challengers movies. Maybe with my friends, maybe by myself. I'm not sure yet. I will likely cry at some point during the day, I always do on my birthday.

But I know that I am growing. Even if Its hard to see.

[thatdisasterauthor]

Sigh.

Don't really want advice, I just need to vent a little. Gonna stick it under a readmore too, because it got a little long.

I'm burning out so bad at work. I love the idea of this business, it's super fun in theory, as is what I do there. But the way the business is run is a nightmare, and the job does not pay anywhere near what it should. And I thought that was going to get better this January, because the owner finally admitted that we need a full marketing department and asked me if I wanted to run it if I were to be given an appropriate raise, and I told him yes. Then we had our January meeting where we were supposed to discuss everything and he said he's actually decided to interview outside candidates and only consider me as one of them.

Which is fucking bullshit. I built this marketing department from the ground up. They didn't even have fucking business cards when I started. Every initiative I've done has gone massively well for being nothing but hit-the-bricks marketing with zero budget.

I get that, legally, they are required to post the job within the company, but they aren't legally required to post it outside the company as far as I can tell. (Nor have they ever done that before anyways...)

And before this was revealed to me, I sat in on an interview and all the owner talked about during the interview is how much he loves people coming into the business and finding their own way and building new skills. He went on and on about the two main people who have done that, and how much he values them. Neither of them had to reinterview against outside candidates to run the departments they now run. Just me.

I know why it's happening too, which makes it even more annoying. The owner has ZERO idea what I do. None. I do not report to him. Every time I'm in a meeting with him and start trying to explain stuff I get some version of "oh, I just don't understand all of that." I think there might also be a touch of not liking me because I stand up to him. There was a big issue with Twitter over the holiday marketing season because I explained how, despite being our best platform, Twitter was too unstable to be as useful as normal due to the Musk takeover and the owner went OFF about it, about how I shouldn't be "bringing politics into it." Nevermind that ANY corporate takeover is going to be destabilizing for a time and the man has never used Twitter in his life so how the hell would he know what's going on. (Also, not even 5 minutes later he told me he didn't want us using TikTok "because of the Chinese." What was that about not getting political, sir?)

It's really clear that I'm just never gonna get the respect and support I need at this job, despite how great my direct boss is. I'm also really fucking tired of working somewhere with an HR lady that can't do her job and refuses to give us direct deposit because it's "too hard" and doesn't put our accumulated sick time on our checks like she's supposed to because she can't figure out how to make the system do it, so we just have to email her if we want to know.

And I've been applying to jobs! I've had interviews! Some of them have seemingly gone well, it's just that none of them have gone all the way to hiring me.

Even if I get a new job it isn't going to fix the fact that I'm burnt out, because I can't afford to take time off between the jobs to actually rest. I've got, like, $100 in savings right now and nothing in checking until my paycheck shows up this week. (And because we don't have direct deposit, the check could show up anytime between Wednesday and Saturday, unless HR had some random shit come up and didn't get the checks out on time, which has happened before.)

And I should (should) have two weeks paid vacation now that I've hit my third year at this job, but I don't want to just use it all up in fucking January in case I am stuck here for the rest of the year, but I could really use those two weeks right now.

Then, in the background of all of this, is my art and writing stuff. Especially The Pits/its Kickstarter in a couple months. If that Kickstarter goes as well as I'm hoping I probably COULD afford to take some time off. But I won't know about that until the end of March when it finishes. And also, I really don't want to be putting all my baggage from my day job on this one project. That's not good for me OR the project.

I'm fucking tired. I was so close to finally getting ahead of all this before inflation hit last year. So fucking close. And then it all went away. I just want a job that pays me what I'm worth and respects what I can do. That shouldn't be so fucking hard.

[cordria]

I work in a school-adjacent field right now, so my job is tied to the school year. I've worked there for about a year, and my contract is up. Had to schedule a meeting with the boss, where I'd either be offered another year-long contract or be released.

I really really wanted another contract. I like this job, it has health insurance for my kids, I get paid really well, and it offers superb vacation time. Me - being me - overthought the hell out of it. I spent weeks curating data as to why I should be retained for another year. I had spreadsheets. I had presentations. I had data at my fingertips for any eventuality.

New contract was the ultimate goal. I was going to ask for a 1-2% raise, depending on how the meeting went, but I was perfectly fine with nothing.

Head into the meeting, and it doesn't take more than a few minutes to realize something is very amiss...

He's got zero desire to look at my data. No asking questions about what I'd been doing. Nothing. He's just... talking about his company. His plans for its future. How I fit into those plans.

And I realize - he's got zero plans on releasing me. He's talking to me about the reasons why I shouldn't leave. Why I shouldn't allow myself to be poached.

Mentally, I sorta check out of the meeting because I hadn't prepared for this. I can't ask for a 2% raise. I'll look like I don't know my worth, and that can be a death-knell for a woman. You'll never again get a great contract if male bosses think you don't know what you're worth and can't stand up for it. I need to be at 3-5% above COLA. And I just saw the COLA numbers, but I can't for the life of me remember them! COLA coulda been anywhere between 1% and like maybe 7%. I can't just guess.

Boss just keeps talking while I'm scrambling. Barely paying attention to him and answering on autopilot. And then he takes a tangent that drags my mind off of numbers. Asks me about my supervisor.

My supervisor is... nice. You know those teachers in school where the system worked well for them, and they like the system, and they can't imagine the system doesn't work for someone else? Those teachers where, if the system isn't serving you, the only logical reason for that is lack of effort on your part? Yeah, she's one of those.

My job is literally to challenge those systems. She's nice, but we butt heads a lot because she doesn't see why I'm so set on changing something that works so well, no matter how many ways I've tried to explain it to her or what research I've handed her.

I'm trying to pussy-foot my way around answering the questions from my boss. I can't throw her under a bus - especially since she's one of the nicest, most generous people at this office - but I also am trying to be honest. She's throwing a monkey wrench in what I'm doing. She's making my work harder, and it's already hard since schools and teachers hate listening to 'your old way of doing things isn't working so well'. So I've totally lost track of trying to figure out COLA. Talking through this puzzle is taking up my brain.

I musta done fine, because eventually he pulls out my contract. Tells me I'm embodying the future of what he wants my department to be. Says he'd like to put me on 'management track'. Preferably to take over my supervisor's position at this point next year. More responsibility. Trying out 'mentoring' some of the other staff I work with.

I'm... not sure how I feel about that. I've never been in the 'boss' track, other than some random shift-lead positions at fast food joints. I'm not exactly management material. I'm one of those people who do best when given a gentle nudge in the direction you'd like me to travel, give me free rein to implement data and research, and stand back to watch the positive chaos unfold. That actually seems like the thing boss likes about me best.

He offered me a good raise. I was very off-foot and didn't argue with it, but probably should have. Looked it up - was 5% above local COLA, so I'm happy. Reasonable contract, but I probably could've snagged another 2-3% for this management track nonsense had my brain been wired right. So I signed it, handed it back.

Now I got 'leadership' training four days over the next two weeks as I learn more about this management track he's wanting me on. I figure it if doesn't work out of me, I can always just say so. Then he can choose to keep me in a regular position or release me at the end of this contract. If nothing else, I'm staring at a binder full of data that I wasted a lot of time on that shows why someone else might want to hire me.

Might as well give this mess a try - right?

[letslovefood]

Vent time!

I'm so FUCKING frustrated with the way thing are at the office right now. I haven't been paid in 5!!!! (FIVE!!!!) WEEKS! I haven't bought groceries in, I don't even know how long, I've gone down from 5 days a week to 4 days cause I can't afford gas since I moved farther away from the office. The office has had NO money coming in a couple of weeks, and what does come in is being used to pay rent at the office. And its not just me, no one has been paid for weeks. Like, I have bills to pay too, I have to pay rent early this month because my vacation is already booked. If everything wasn't paid for, I would cancel it. Honestly, I don't even think I'll be able to enjoy vacation because I don't have the fucking money to enjoy it. It's just so irritating. I kept holding on because I know it'll get better, but at the same time, I can't keep working for free. I wanted to wait until after vacation to find another job anyways, because I wanted to actually TAKE vacation and not just get paid for it. At the same time, I LOVE my job, I really love what I do, and the people I work with. I don't want to leave, and the doctor has been working very hard to get out of the hole, but payments have been SO slow. Typically we get a huge windfall towards the end of the year, too. I just don't know how long I can keep waiting get paid. I've never been one to complain about money on the internet, and I'm certainly not going to ask for anything, because I know the economy suck ass for everyone. This is just so irritating. Like, I wouldn't be working if I didn't need the money. UGHHHHHH

[jammie3132]

Fandom: Glee Pairing: Blaine Anderson & Sebastian Smythe Story Summary: After a fight with Kurt, Blaine goes running back to Ohio…again! The problem is he doesn’t have Dalton to run back to. Chapter 1 Title: Are You Happy? Chapter 1 Summary: Blaine is back in Ohio after a fight with Kurt. His friends are determined to not let him fall back into old patterns Notes: 10 Days of Seblaine Week 2023 Day 3: Dalton

Canon through Season 6 with exception of 5 year time jump.

❤️🎉HAPPY ANNIVERSARY EVERYONE 🎉❤️

Ladies and gentlemen, we are beginning our approach. Please prepare for landing. Welcome to Columbus. It is currently 62 degrees…

Blaine put his tray table up and his laptop in his carry on. This was NOT the trip he expected to be taking this week.

“Kurt! I’m home! You’ll never guess…what’s going on?”

“Isabelle got me a showing for my accessories at Paris Fashion Week! Can you believe it?”

“Um…isn’t Paris Fashion Week next week? Our anniversary is next week. We’re going to Hawaii on the Honey…the trip we postponed last year because Isabelle’s assistant got the flu and she insisted she’d never survive Paris Fashion Week without you. And the year before that because... You know, I can't remember what excuse you used that time."

“Oh, yeah. I forgot. But Blaine, this time it’s for our future. It's not the same.”

“Yes, yes, it is.”

“Come with me. We can enjoy the city during our down time. Support me like I supported you at the Grammys.”

“You didn’t go. You decided it wasn't worth missing your classes the next day because my category wasn’t televised.”

“Not this again. It was 3 months ago and you didn’t win. Get over it.”

“You did not just say that.”

“Look, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. And I’m sorry I’m postponing our vacation again. I’m not sorry I’m going to Paris. Stop being so difficult.”

“Just go. I’ll go back to Ohio for the Groundbreaking Ceremony at Dalton. I was disappointed when I found out we couldn’t attend because we’d be in Hawaii. Since that’s no longer an issue…”

“Oh, hell no! I saw Sebastian Smythe’s name on the list of committee members. I’m not letting you go anywhere near that asshole without me.”

“Uh…excuse me. You’re forbidding, literally forbidding, me from going to Dalton’s Groundbreaking?"

"That's not what I meant."

"But it was what you said. You know how important Dalton was to me. I was devastated...”

“How important could Dalton have been if you left just because I asked you to?”

“Fuck you!”

“Blaine, don't…where are you going?”

“Ohio!”

*SLAM*

Three hours later Blaine finally relaxed when a friendly face opened his door and gave him a hug. “Get in here” Sam said, pulling him into his apartment. “Did you leave your luggage in the rental?”

“Nope. In my dramatic exit I only grabbed my school bag.”

“Good thing I’ve still got the stuff you forgot the last time you were here. For once my procrastination paid off.”

“You didn’t procrastinate, you've been busy. I remember how crazy it was preparing the Warblers for Sectionals. The New Directions are trying to three-peat at Nationals in a few weeks…big difference. I feel like an ass taking up your time, but I just couldn’t face my mom’s interrogation. At least not tonight. I mean it would be stupid if I didn’t stay with her when I go to Dalton.”

“But…”

“If you say one word about how I used to make that drive all the time, I’ll tell your new girlfriend about the time Sue was hypnotizing you and…”

“Hey! I had no control over what I was doing! And it’s not fair to use that stuff against me when I don’t remember any of it.”

“Except sleeping with Rachel.”

“I wasn’t hypnotized for that” Sam told him with an added wink.

Blaine’s phone went off (his mother not husband) so Sam went to his hall closet and brought out the box he’d stored there. Since Pam was on a tangent, it gave him time to go to the kitchen and make some calls of his own. He had a plan for his best friend and wanted to confirm the pieces were in place.

When he returned with drinks, Blaine was laying back on the couch rubbing his temples. Pam had that effect on people. “You’re going to have to go to Target for underwear and stuff like that. I’ve got a toothbrush…”

“Sam, what aren’t you telling me?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You got kind of defensive when I mentioned your new girlfriend.”

“I know” Sam sighed as he rejoined Blaine on his couch. “It’s just, I’ve been trying to find a way to tell you this. My girlfriend already knows about everything that happened with Sue, and Rachel.”

“Ok? Why is it so hard to tell me you told your girlfriend?”

“I didn’t have to tell her. I’m dating Kitty.”

Did not see that coming! “Kitty? Kitty Wilde?”

“Yes, and we have a date tonight. So do you.”

“You realize I’m still married, no matter how pissed I am at Kurt.”

“Not like that. I called a friend and he’s taking you to Scandals to get drunk and forget how big a jerk your husband is.”

“Who did you call?”

“It’s a surprise. You have time for a shower and nap. After you called, I went to the store and got a bunch of your favorite Kurt did something stupid comfort food. Please eat something before you go to Scandals so you don’t get drunk on your second beer.”

Blaine wanted to give a snarky comeback but didn’t because Sam was right. “Thanks, Blond Chameleon.”

“Anytime NightBird.”

Because he wasn’t getting picked up until later in the evening, Blaine had time to run to Target. There was also enough time to visit with Kitty before she and Sam left on their date. He had to admit he was having a little trouble getting past the whole former football coach/cheerleader thing. It was only 3 years ago.

But if they wanted to relive that time in private…

Oh God, now it’s worse.

At 9PM on the dot the doorbell rang. He was not prepared for who was standing in front of him. “David? What are you doing here?”

“Taking you to Scandals? “Ready?”

Dave Karofsky? Sam called the guy he broke up with and then married Kurt a week later? Sending them to the place where they reconnected after he returned to Ohio when Kurt ended their engagement? Well, if Dave is here, he must be fine with it.

“Sure, just let me get my phone.”

“No phone. You’re going to drink and talk to me and the others. No checking your phone every 10 minutes to see if Kurt called. Sam was very specific with his directions but I’m pretty sure Kitty was the actual mastermind.”

“Sam and Kitty…I wouldn’t check my phone…” Then it dawned on him. “Did you say others? Who?”

“No idea. Let’s go. I don’t want to give up any more of my time because you’re overthinking what’s going on.”

Blaine shook his head and chuckled. This was nice. “You know me so well.”

It was all small talk until they were settled in a back booth at Scandals and each halfway through their first beer. “Do you remember what you promised me when you came over to tell me you’d married Kurt?”

“David, I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve any of that.”

“You’re right, I didn’t” Dave told him with a confidence Blaine didn’t remember. It looked good on him. “Now answer my question. Do you remember your promise?”

Oh yeah, he remembered. “To not lose myself in my relationship with Kurt again. To do what was right for me, even if Kurt threw a hissy fit. And I have, most of the time. Sometimes that’s not how marriage works.”

“And yet you’re sitting here with me and your husband is on his way to Paris. Weren’t you supposed to be in Hawaii for your Spring Break? On the honeymoon you never took? We both know that weekend in Rhode Island didn’t count.”

“How do you…Sam?” Dave nodded his response, not giving him a chance to go off topic, which they both knew Blaine would try. “When we had our fight, I couldn’t say the word honeymoon. I just reminded him it was our anniversary. It wouldn’t have made a difference. Kurt was going to Paris no matter what I said.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

Shit! He noticed. “No, but I’m getting better at it. At least I think I am, but he makes it so fucking hard!” Blaine stopped to finish his beer and motion to the waitress he wanted another. If those coming later were anything like Dave, he needed to get a good buzz going. “I was so happy when I got home but he didn’t give a chance to tell him my news!”

“You can tell me. I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to.”

Blaine thought about it, but not for long. The thought Kurt had to be the first one he told was gone. “Do you know about the song writing contest I won at NYU?”

“Who doesn’t? The prize was it would be recorded by a major artist and put on their next album. None of us expected Celine Dion or that the song would be nominated for Pop Song of the Year at the Grammys. By the way, you should have won.”

“Thanks.” Blaine tried to push out the memory of Kurt’s earlier comment but couldn’t. “Celine was asked to record a song for a movie, a big…big movie, but she hated what they sent her. She told the studio she’d do it, but she wanted me to write a new song.”

Dave rushed around the table and crushed him in a bear hug…maybe bear was a poor choice of words. “Oh my God! That’s huge! What’s the movie?”

“I shouldn’t say…in case things don’t work out.”

“Blaine…”

“Ok, it’s Deadpool 2.”

Dave pulled back, a blank expression on his face. “Are you shitting me? Seriously, are you shitting me? The first one is my favorite movie of all time!”

“I remember.”

“And Sam! He’s going to freak that you’re going to write a song for a comic book movie!”

“If they use it.”

Once again, Dave tightened his hold, this time even harder. “You are a Grammy nominated song writer and Celine fucking Dion asked you to write her a song for fucking Deadpool 2. Stop doubting yourself.”

“Ok, the walk down memory lane is over. Time for the male hobbit to forgo the sugar coating and get some tough love from Auntie Snixx.”

Dave whispered Good Luck before leaving. Blaine wasn’t sure if his abrupt exit was part of the plan, animosity toward one of the masterminds of his ambush wedding to Kurt or not wanting to piss off the girl who once told him she had razor blades in her hair.

Did it matter? Yeah, it did. Their time together made him realize how much he missed him. He’d like them to be friends again…if it wasn’t too weird for Dave.

His long awaited second beer arrived, but Santana declined anything stating she wouldn’t be there much longer. She then pulled out her phone and smiled a smile Blaine had seen enough to know it meant trouble. “What are you doing here Lopez?”

“In Ohio? Lord Tubbington needed an intervention for his latest addiction…Internet porn.”

Blaine didn’t question her explanation which for some reason made perfect sense. “I meant here…at Scandals.”

“Sammy called. He needed help getting in contact with the third ghost of Blaine Warblers past.”

“You are not a ghost from my past. I see you at least once a week.”

“Then Karofsky’s your past, I’m your present and the next person can be your future. Guess that makes you and your pissy mood Scrooge.” Santana took a deep breath and folded her hands on the table. “I’m only going to say this once and if you tell anyone, I’ll deny it…then cut off your balls.”

That was interesting. Interesting enough he prepared for what she was going to say by taking a big swig of beer. “Deal”

“I’m sorry.”

“Foooor?”

“I should’ve never let Britt talk me into the double wedding. She only remembered high school Klaine and then depressed Blaine who missed Kurt. She wasn’t here for the engagement and she definitely was around for toxic NYC Klaine. I was.”

For the second time since he arrived in Ohio, Blaine didn’t have a comeback because the person across from him was telling the truth. Was it progress to admit what they were saying were truths? “You didn’t have faith we’d make it?”

“Once I was out of the happy bubble of my wedding day? No, not a chance in hell. You and Hummel got back together only a few days before. You needed time to either work out the issues you had the first time or realize you were in a never-ending cycle, doomed to failure.”

“Wow, tell me how you really feel.” Blaine downed the rest of his beer for time to come of with a reasonable response. Like that was going to happen. “I thought we were ready.”

“Why? Because you went to therapy and a had rebound relationship with Karofsky?”

“Never, I mean never, say crap about Dave! I don’t care about shit that went down in high school. He didn’t deserve what I did to him, no matter what he did back then!”

Santana tilted her head then nodded, showing she was both stunned and impressed by Blaine’s outburst. “You obviously misunderstood Anderson. Was your relationship with Karofsky on anyone’s bingo card? No. Did some people think you were with him as revenge for Hummel ending your engagement? Yeah, probably more than you realize. But I know you had feelings for Dave, just not love. He was the wrong person at the right time.”

“Then who was the right person?”

“The guy who just walked in the door.” She took hold of his hands and asked “Do you remember when we went to Dalton to hear the Warblers sing MJ and they did I Want You Back? How I said we were in big trouble?” Blaine nodded because seeing Sebastian had rendered him speechless. “I didn’t mean for Regionals. The New Directions were in trouble because we were going to lose you. If that Slushie didn’t happened, you would’ve eventually gone back to Dalton. Not for the Warblers but for a Warbler…Smythe. You looked at him in a way I never saw between you and Hummel…ever.”

“San…”

“Just talk to him. Listen to him. And listen to the voice in your, thankfully no longer plastered into submission, head.”

“Hey” Sebastian said upon his arrival at their table, unsure of what he was doing there in the first place. Other than fear of what Santana Lopez would do if he’d declined, of course.

Santana stood to leave, kissed Blaine on the cheek, then took hold of Sebastian’s arm. “Thank you for coming but if you fuck this up, they’ll never find your body.”

“Understood.” Then as a shock to both men, she kissed his cheek before leaving. “That…that…my younger self would never believe that just happened” Sebastian stammered as he took the available seat. “I still live in fear of her revenge for the Slushie I threw at her. Sometimes I wish she would just get it over with. I mean, how many …don’t answer that. I remember. I’ve always remembered.”

Their missing waitress appeared out of nowhere, obviously due to Sebastian. Even though Blaine hadn’t finished his current beer, he went ahead and ordered one for each of them. Hopefully they’d arrive before the girl realized she worked in a gay bar.

They did.

The tension was awkward, but since Sam had gone to a lot of trouble to put this evening together, Blaine decided the least he could do was see it through. “How’s the Groundbreaking preparation going?”

“Crazy” Sebastian told him, but the former Warbler Captain instantly broke out a smile. “But it’s Dalton crazy so…”

“Organized chaos” Blaine finished for him. “How did you get involved?”?

“Long story.”

“Good. We can get comfortable while we get up the nerve to talk about whatever Santana told you.”

“She didn’t tell me anything. I had no idea you’d be here. In fact, shouldn’t you be in Hawaii? It’s the reason you declined your invitation.”

Blaine was still reeling from hearing Sebastian didn’t know he’d be here. As much as he wanted to ask how Santana convinced him to come, he decided it was safer not to know. “Kurt was offered a business opportunity in Paris, but that’s a conversation we should save until you’ve caught up to me. I’m on my third beer and I’m not the lightweight I used to be.”

“Challenge accepted.” Sebastian took a good-sized drink and looked for the waitress. She must have figured out flirting was a waste of time since she was nowhere to be seen. Fortunately, one of the bartenders remembered Sebastian from the old days who took care of him. “So, we talk about Dalton for now?”

“For now.”

“Ok, then I got involved because the Reopening Committee asked. It’s my Spring Break so I have a lot of extra time.”

Before everything went to hell between them, Blaine learned some of Sebastian’s telltale ticks. If he tapped his fingers on the table, he wasn’t telling the whole truth. He never lied. He just had a habit of leaving out important details. Right now, he was practically tapping the drum solo to In The Air Tonight.

“It’s my Spring Break too, which makes sense since I'm supposed to be in Hawaii. Where did you wind up going to college?”

“Stanford”

“Not Harvard like your dad. I bet that went over like a led balloon.”

“Ding, ding, ding…200 points to the Grammy nominee.”

“You heard about that? Never mind, seems a lot of people have.”

“You’re kidding, right? Everyone knew you’d end up in music, we just didn’t know how. But I have a question. When I read about your nomination, the article said you won a song writing contest at NYU. What happened to NYADA?”

“Kurt broke off our engagement, crippling depression caused my work to suffer, NYADA cut me.”

“They cut you? Depression that bad should've gotten you a medical excuse.” “My parents’ lawyers said the same thing. NYADA cleared my record, refunded my tuition, and when I refused to go back, the Director of NYADA convinced Tische into accepting me despite the fact I’d missed all application deadlines.”

“Let me guess, after NYADA (air quotes) fixed everything, you and your parents didn’t sue.”

“Ding, ding, ding…500 points to the Stanford man.” The tapping went into overdrive. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Sebastian moved his hands to his lap. “You remembered?”

“You’d be surprised how much I remember about you.“ Oh shit! Time to stop drinking.

Either his comment went over Sebastian’s head, or he was polite enough not to push the subject. “Let’s just say you weren’t the only one to switch colleges. I’m not at Stanford anymore. I’m at OSU.”

Huh? “Your turn to spill what happened.”

Sebastian finished his beer and signaled the bartender for another. They were both well aware this would be his third. According to their agreement, it was time to talk about the hard stuff. “Do you remember, back when we were friends, and you asked what was something I could never have but wanted more than anything?”

“Of course. You said my ass.”

“True, but then I said…”

Blaine’s eyes flew open even though they were heavy from the alcohol. “You told your father off? How you hated him for all the crap he’d put you and your mother through? Oh my God, what did he say?”

“You’re cut off.”

“Oh shit!” While Blaine was in disbelief (but in total awe at the same time) Sebastian seemed fine…peaceful. “That’s why you left Stanford? He even cut off tuition?”

“Everything. But Blaine, it was the best thing to happen to me.”

Huh? “What do you mean?”

“He no longer has control over me. I make all my own decisions. I’ll admit I was lucky this pissed off my grandmother, his mother. She gave me the equivalent of what I would inherit when she died. It didn’t take my finance classes for me to realize living in California, near San Francisco, was going to drain the money in less than 10 years. I finished the semester at Stanford then moved here.”

Blaine couldn’t take his eyes off Sebastian. He was practically glowing, and not from the beer. “You look really happy.”

“I am and it’s not just being free of my father. Dalton plays a huge role in what I call my recovery.”

“Dalton? How?”

“I’m not just working on the Groundbreaking. I work part time for Dalton. I’m still working on my Finance Degree, so I’ve been helping with fundraising. OSU gives me credit for practical experience. I’m also getting a degree in Education Administration.”

Excuse me?! “You? Sebastian Smythe are going to be Dalton’s Head Master?”

“Oh, hell no! I’m going to teach French and work as an assistant to the Head Master…title pending. The Head Master has to handle crap like curriculum and faculty. I’ll be in charge of budgets and making sure students don’t do stupid shit…title pending. The idea was who's better for the job than someone who broke practically every rule. There’s not a lie or excuse I won’t see right through.”

When Blaine found out his best friend was taking over the New Directions, Sam asked if he was jealous. His answer of a little was true. He had loved coaching the Warblers. But what Sebastian was doing? He wasn’t a little jealous. He was so jealous his heart hurt. “Are you happy?”

“Extremely. I know everyone expected me to be a lawyer or CEO. I’d rather work at Dalton and not have high blood pressure and ulcers by the time I’m 30. I suppose I’ve grown up.”

“I suppose you have.”

Sebastian took a chance to reach over for Blaine’s hand and was pleasantly surprised when he didn’t pull away. “Killer, when was the last time you were truly happy? Not with something in your marriage, or Kurt in general. Something that was only about Blaine Devon Anderson.”

Was it sad he couldn’t answer immediately? Blaine wanted to say his song writing. How he’d been asked to write a song for a movie. Neither was the truth. “When I was coaching the Warblers before the fire. My life was a mess, but for those few hours a day, safe inside the walls of Dalton, I was genuinely happy.”

Sebastian didn’t look surprised. “If you have time, you should come help with the Groundbreaking. Or, even if you don’t have time, could you please, please, please come help with the Groundbreaking? Some of the bigger donors asked what the Warblers were performing…yesterday. As of now, there’s no performances scheduled, just speeches. You, former Warbler and musical savant, showing up like this is basically a miracle. Unless you say you won’t do it. No pressure. You obviously have a lot to deal with, but please, please pretty please.”

It sounded perfect, but he didn’t want Sebastian to know Dalton was the reason he was back in Ohio. Kurt forbidding him from coming would somehow come out and he didn’t need that getting around. It was beyond embarrassing. “I have time and even if I didn’t, I would’ve found a way. Can we have lunch tomorrow and keep catching up…no matter how difficult it might be?”

Sebastian smiled as Sam and he assumed Kitty walked in. The only reason he wasn’t sure was because she was tiny, and every single McKinley Warbler was scared shitless of her. “B, your designated drivers are here.”

“Not quite Eiffel Tower…”

“Eiffel Tower?” Blaine and Sebastian asked in unison.

Kitty rolled her eyes at them, but Sam thought it was funny. “They’re both tall and French.” She rolled her eyes again when not only Sam, but Blaine and Sebastian, began to laugh uncontrollably. “Anyway…” she said in a way Sebastian suddenly understood why the guys were terrified of her “It’s late, you’ve been drinking and none of us are making the drive to Westerville and back. You’re staying with Tana and Brittany at the Pierce’s. Give me your keys. I’m driving you.”

The guys all began laughing again. They were so loud the other bar patrons could hear them over the music. “You…you?” Sebastian tried to say between breaths. “I don’t think my seats go up that far!!”

Sam pulled himself together. Kitty was almost at her Santana level. “I’ll drive Sebastian’s car. You and Blaine follow in mine.”

“No, I want to talk to the jackass about me and the McKinley Warblers singing Blaine’s song at his fancy shindig on Saturday.”

That got Blaine’s attention. “My song?”

“Rise…the one you wrote when Dalton burned down.”

Blaine quickly got up, and once the room stopped spinning, he grabbed his jacket. “I’ve got to get back to Sam’s. I need my laptop.”

Sam didn’t like the sound of that. Kurt had been calling Blaine’s phone throughout the evening. He hoped his plan hadn’t been for naught with his best friend wanting to Skype his husband. “Why?”

“My song writing software is on it. I’ve got an idea.”

NOTES:

I read somewhere Klaine’s original “introduction” in the 5 year time jump had Blaine as a Grammy nominated song writer and Kurt with a popular accessories line…no Virgina Wolfe. I went with that narrative.

Season 6 Wedding: Episode 6x08 2/20/2015. However, there was no fear of snow or cold, and that barn was VERY open. This is why I moved the anniversary to April/Spring Break.

Dalton Fire: Episode 6x10 3/10/15. While in canon it was 2 weeks later, I moved it to 1 week.

[phoenix-positivity]

29 may 2024

Yesterday was my 8 year anniversary of going no contact with my abuser and physically escaping him. (I don't remember the date for when the stalking stopped but that was about 4 years later.. I should look it up sometime)

I discovered that it's also the date that the kpop group I'm going to see in concert debuted 5 years ago. I like that those dates match. I have a weird thing for dates sometimes. I'm so excited for the concert. I can't remember the last time I was this excited about something. I think it was probably summer last year during vacation, visiting Europapark and a bear rescue park. (I get pretty excited about roller coasters, and I get even more excited about bears)

The concert is getting really close. I'm not done with all I wanted to prepare for it yet, but I still have some time. I'm really busy with it.

Tomorrow I have what will likely be my last EMDR apointment (if all goes well). How great of a coincidence would it have been if that appointment had been yesterday. The last EMDR processing also ending on 28th may. It's close enough. And it's close enough in date I still feel the symbolism. The question being: Will this be the last May where I have to be triggered by the seasonal effects? We can only wait for next year to discover this. I'm dreading EMDR tomorrow but I can handle it I'm sure. I've done so much worse than this.

I'm taking very good care of myself. The concert is giving me a lot of motivation to look after myself. I've been doing a skin care routine, I've cooked healthy meals for myself for a week. (This is pretty big, it had been very very long since I cooked something instead of heating up meals) To be honest I was also fed up by eating the same 5 meal options back to back. But I actually seem to have energy to prepare the meals. My PTSD symptoms are barely there anymore. I only have them if I get triggered by like pretty strong triggers. I haven't dissociated as much either, only with triggers.

There's been some changes at my work which probably help a lot in me feeling better and having more energy left. I'm able to do my job better due to this as well. I'm working less hours and I have less responsibility. This will be challenged the upcoming three weeks as I will be getting a a lot more responsibility again due to people being on vacation/sick. But I'll just do what I can and if I can't solve it I wont make it my problem. I'm not being paid for that and it's not my job to take on that role. It's only three weeks anyway.

The fact that yesterday during a pretty important date I felt like it wasn't that important of a day also is telling. The fact I felt it was a regular day like any other shows me I'm moving on and giving less importance to the abuse I went through. It no longer brings on the same intense feelings. It's starting to actually stay in the past now. It's starting to really become just like a memory that I don't have to stay stuck in. This must really be what healing from PTSD feels like. Finally being able to let go and not have it intrude into my life as much if at all. I can describe it as it becoming more fuzzy, faded out, muddied, blurred, more distanced. It's no longer crisp, fresh, crystal clear, intense, in your face. EMDR is like a magic eraser in that sense.

My therapy is coming to a close soon. My therapist told me to apply for assistance at home because I do have trouble with my housekeeping. I put in effort whenever I'm able to. The next chapter will be to focus on working with that organization to properly orchestrate my life at home. I have no clue how this will play out but we will see. My therapist has suggested it to me many times before (not pushy, just bringing it up as an option) and I finally agreed it would probably be good for me. They are supposed to specialize in autism as well so we will see.

[kaibutsushidousha]

Memory in Children: Mechanical Choices (Sagrada Reset 3) - Chapter 2: Android Girl (August)

[INDEX]

Sparrows hopped close to her feet.

Haruki Misora sat on the park bench, following the sparrows with her eyes.

August 13th. 3 weeks after summer vacations began. Haruki had made a habit out of visiting the small park on her way to and from school. Waiting for Kurakawa Mari to appear at any moment. There was one thing she always thought about while sitting on this bench.

(Am I capable of understanding human emotions?)

It's been something over a month that Haruki has been searching for emotions. She believed that if she didn't understand Mari's and her mother's emotions, she wouldn't be able to understand Mari's question.

But she couldn't find emotions anywhere. Not in the library, not in the movie theater, not in the box filled with her old toys.

She remembered that she had emotions at age 5, back when she tried and failed to save that cicada. But she lost them somewhere along the process.

(How do I find my emotions? Does Asai Kei know where they are? Wait. Why did my line of thought lead to him? Among the students my age, he's among the ones with the narrowest emotional range.)

Before she knew it, the sparrows by her feet had flown away. Haruki was looking at the empty ground. She's been in the park for almost 30 minutes. She figured it was a day Mari wouldn't be there.

(Is Mari's absence sad?), she asked herself.

(It isn't.), she immediately answered.

She stood up from the bench and walked away. The unmanned swings entered her sight. (What would a person with emotions be able to feel looking at this? It's just a piece of playground equipment. Part of the background.)

She left the park. That's when she heard Mari's voice.

"Miss.", she said. She ran to her from the other side of the street. Instead of sporting her usual smile, she was panting.

"Miss, help."

(Oh, she's sad now. That must be it.)

"What happened?"

"I need to escape. They'll catch me. I won't be able to see mom again."

(What? All I could gather was that she's running away from something.)

"Understood. We'll escape.", said Haruki.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The two ran, holding hands, in the midsummer heat of 4:30 PM. The sun was still high up in the sky.

Haruki headed toward where there was more pedestrian traffic.

They found a fast food store in the business district and dashed inside. The restaurant was crowded enough. They wouldn't be easily found there.

They sat on a window table where they could keep watch of the street, and there Haruki breathed heavily. She sucked the chilled air of the air-conditioned restaurant into her heated trachea. She worried that the chilling sweat would give Mari a cold.

Haruki asked a question amidst her panting.

"Who were we... running from?"

Mari didn't answer. She only shook her head.

"Why are you being pursued?"

She shook her head again.

(Does she not know the situation she's in? Without knowing it, I don't know how to solve it. Should we find a police officer? Should we call her mother?)

While Haruki was mulling over it, Mari began to speak in a quiet voice.

"The black suit people told me mom left."

"Are they the ones pursuing you?"

"It's my fault. Because I'm fake."

That wasn't an answer to her question. Haruki gave up and instead paid closer attention to what the girl was saying.

"The real one is dead, so I can't be here. Mom probably left because I'm fake."

Real. Fake. She remembered the story Asai Kei told her. The girl named Kurakawa Mari died 7 years ago.

Mari's face contorted. She was crying. Haruki understood that before the tears started rolling. She cried as she grabbed the hem of Haruki's dress. Her grip was very weak. That was the strength of someone asking for help.

Haruki looked around her. From the window, she found men in black on the street. Three of them as far as she could see. Probably more outside her view. They were stopping to peek inside every shop along the way, but they were getting closer.

She abruptly took Mari's hand and stood up.

"Look outside the window. Are these the men who are after you?"

Mari wiped her eyes and quickly nodded.

(They'll find us if we stay here. But how long can we stay on the run if we leave? How long we'll need to keep running?)

She thought about Resetting.

Mari was crying and it was full of men in black outside. She wanted to redo everything. But then she remembered Asai Kei's words.

ー You using Reset without me is pointless. Your Reset won’t stop the girl from crying.

(I know that much. I'll repeat everything. Reset doesn't solve any problems.)

ー If you’re trying to make that girl happy, don’t settle for a method. Never stop thinking about what’s the right thing to do. Break your limits to go beyond those rules of yours.

(I am thinking. All the time. But I can't ever get a good idea. What am I supposed to do? I don't know what can get Mari to smile.)

"Miss."

Mari clinged to Haruki. She saw a small blue envelope in her hands. She had seen this envelope before. Souma gave it to her and she gave it to Mari.

ー Think of it as a good luck charm. Open only when you really need it.

(Right. Mari put it in her pouch that day. That pouch she's always carrying on her shoulder. Did she keep that envelope on her this entire time? Was she hoping that it would come to save her?)

"Let me see this envelope, please."

She didn't believe there was any point in opening the envelope. It was as meaningless as a Reset. She was sure this wouldn't save her.

(But I have nothing else to rely on. If this doesn't work, we escape somewhere else. We'll keep running until we're caught, and then we'll Reset. It's pointless but I don't know what else to do.)

Haruki ripped the envelope open. There was a sticky note inside.

It contained a row of numbers separated by hyphens.

This is what Souma said when she gave it to her:

ー Then you have to say your wish out loud. That’s what will get it granted.

Haruki understood what she meant.

Next to the numbers, the name "Asai Kei" was written in beautiful letters.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

At that moment, Kei was lying on his bed, reading an old mystery novel.

He bought this one ages ago. He read only the beginning and left it to gather dust on his shelf. It was the kind of book that he didn't exactly dislike but didn't feel like reading further.

Chapter 2 ended with someone dying, and when he was about to flip to the next page, he heard a knock on his door.

It was Nakano Tomoki. He could tell from the sound of his knock.

Kei stood up and opened the door.

"Phone for you, Kei."

Tomoki handed the cordless phone to Kei with a cheeky grin.

"Ok, thanks."

Kei took it and pressed the green button. With the same smile, Tomoki barged into the room.

Kei heard a voice as soon as he put the phone to his ear. It was Haruki Misora.

"Is Asai Kei on?"

"Yeah."

(Feels weird to be called by my full name here.)

"I have a favor to ask. I want to help Mari. Please cooperate."

He reflexively lost his smile.

"Explain the situation."

"Mari is being pursued by several adult men. We need a definitive way to escape them."

He wasn't shocked. The girl going by the name Kurakawa Mari was a questionable figure. He was ready to accept anything that could happen to her.

"Have you already called the police?", Kei asked.

"Not yet. I'll do it immediately."

"No, it's best if you don't."

They still didn't know if the public interests were on Mari's side.

"We'll talk more when I get to you. Where are you now?"

"In a shopping district not too far from school. Southeast of it."

Kei closed his eyes and recalled her location.

"You're calling from a public phone, right? Is it the one by the convenience store or the one by the drugstore?"

That commercial district only had two public phones.

"By the drugstore.", Haruki answered.

"Do you know the bus stop to the west of where you are?"

"I don't."

"See the byroad to your right? Go in there and take the first left. When you're out in the main avenue, you'll see a bus stop."

Kei looked at his room clock. At the same time, he recalled the bus schedule.

"A bus heading east will appear in 2 minutes. You can make it if you run. You'll find me 3 stops later."

"Understood."

She hung up immediately after saying this.

"What? You got called for a date?", asked Tomoki, still with the same cheeky grin.

"Almost. I was called for an elopement."

"Wait, really? Making the best out of your teenage days, aren't you?"

"I want you to come with me."

"Huh?"

"There are two girls there."

Kei tossed the cordless phone on his bed.

And then he smirked.

"C'mon, no time to waste."

"Oh. I've never seen you this proactive."

"Of course I am. A girl asked me to save her. It's our duty to do everything in our power."

Nakano Tomoki answered with a smirk of his own.

"I don't know what's going on here, but you're completely right."

The conversation came to a close as the two finished putting on their shoes.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pedaling at the best speed they could muster, they arrived at the designated bus stop in 10 minutes. Kei's bicycle didn't belong to him. It was Nakano Tomoki's father's bicycle, which Kei was authorized to use whenever he wanted.

"Two girls, right? And one is Haruki?", asked Tomoki, catching his breath.

"Of course."

"And the other is Souma?"

"No, it's a girl you don't know."

"Is she cute?"

"Sure. Cuter than Haruki."

Tomoki whistled. He was always good at making noise.

"Well, Haruki is a real cutey herself. She's just weird, that's all."

"Really?"

Kei never thought of Haruki as cute. "Pretty" was the better word for her in his opinion. Wholly pure, unsullied, and undistorted. Pristine.

They soon arrived at the bus stop.

Haruki got off the bus taking Mari by the hand. Both wore one-piece dresses. Haruki's was a pale aqua, and Mari's had a large checkered pattern split by a wide diagonal line.

"That's the other girl?", whispered Tomoki upon seeing Mari.

"Yeah. Isn't she cute?"

"I can't deny it, but I prefer bigger boobs."

Haruki found them and sprinted in their direction. She opened her mouth but didn't know what to say, so she closed it without a word. That gesture felt very human.

Kei smiled.

"Hop on the back. We're getting out of here."

"Understood."

Next to them, Tomoki asked Mari her name. She hung her head without saying anything. Like she was too tired from all the crying.

Kei began pedaling the bike with Haruki in the back seat. The chain spun more loudly than before. It was past 5 PM. It wouldn't take long before sunset.

Tomoki was next to them, with Mari on the back seat of his bicycle.

"Where are we going?"

"Anywhere less obvious than a bus stop. Would your house be a good first place to stop by?"

Haruki's hand touched his back. Kei took notice that this was the first time Haruki touched him. It had the warmth of a human hand.

"Haruki, can you explain the situation?"

"You don't understand it."

"You call tell us just the parts you know."

Haruki Misora began telling the story.

She met Mari in front of the park. She was being chased by men in black suits. They told her that her mother left because she was fake and not real.

Kei had already pieced together that much. This girl had the same name as the Kurakawa Mari documented to have died. He had theories ready for why she needed to take regular exams, who was chasing her, and why her mother didn't love her.

"When is your last Save?", Kei asked.

"Two days ago, after 9 PM", she answered with a quieter voice than usual.

(She did keep a Save. Perfect.)

His next question was for Mari. It's a question that would hurt her. He didn't think it was right to further scar a traumatized child.

(But I'm more than used to casting away my principles.)

"Mari, were you created by an ability?"

She didn't answer. Behind Tomoki, the girl looked almost straight down.

"I'm pretty confident that your mother gained an ability when the real Kurakawa Mari died. The ability to create a child identical to the dead Mari. And you're her creation, right?"

Mari subtly nodded.

He could feel Haruki's hand getting tenser on his back.

(I must have asked this cruel question just to shake up Haruki's emotions. I'm sure of it.)

Souma Sumire's words resurface in his head.

ー Who is the android?

(I obviously don't believe that Souma predicted this whole situation when she asked the question. That would have been ridiculous. But Kurakawa Mari... This girl is the product of an ability... An artificial human lookalike.)

[muerteporfavor]

Vacation Update:

I wanted to talk about where I went on vacation (now that I am safely home and am not doxxing myself by doing so)

I went to the Silver Scream Convention created by the band Ice Nine Kills. It was truly magical. I did not have the privilege of going to the first year's convention last year however I have a lot of thoughts on this year's convention from an analysis point of view I guess?

Let me start by talking about a panel that will put everything I am about to say about the convention in context. The Spooktacular panel. There is a documentary style movie coming out (I believe the Los Angeles premiere is happening with all the cast on the 28th of September and then there is a Texas premiere with some of the cast at some point but I don't know when or where in Texas. They are also hoping for a theatrical release but I don't know when or if that will actually happen as it is only in talks.)

Spooktacular is a documentary film for the first ever haunted house to ever grace the country. It's title was Spooky World and was first unveiled in 1991. (Random tidbit: I got a free signed movie poster by the ex-owner/mastermind behind Spooky World plus the director and some guy who had a big hand in the filming process.) Prior to this Halloween themepark (think Disney World but for horror is a common comparison) there were only haunted hayrides. There were also celebrities of Horror/Halloween (including Elvira or Alice Copper, the latter who called spooky world to be there) who made appearances. To wrap this background up let's just say the owner had a 130,000$ loan (I swear he said 150,000$ at the panel but a source online who interviewed him claims 110,000 plus $20,000 in interest so its ballpark somewhere in there.) he had to pay back in like 5 years. And he paid it back in either (I can't remember which) a week and a half or two and a half weeks. Both of which is insanely impressive. (If you want to learn more about the former spooky world search up spooky world Berlin MA on youtube, the owner sold the attraction in 2005 and now it is in New Hampshire.)

Now. With all that being said, I think the Silver Scream Con is going to be the new Spooky World.

The Con just did their second year and it was confirmed by Ryan J. Downey, the host of all panels and Q&As, that the attendance number doubled last year's count. The first panel of the Con (Assault and Batteries with Alex Vincent and Christine Elise) had to add three rows of chairs more before the panel began because there were more guests than they anticipated. The line to see Dead Meat and get a picture/autograph was so long that it spanned the small vendor room from front to back at times. For the other booths in the vendor room it was a lot easier to wait in line so Dead Meat would be an outlier. I also heard from another guest that for the signings in the additional area (labelled Living Room in the schematic) that you'd wait about two hours to meet either Ulrich, Charnas (and company depending on the day), Todd, and Jericho. Personally, I only passed through the room but it was definitely very crowded and busy. (I also heard from another guest that the panel room for Dead Meat's panel was so crowded and hot that they ended up leaving because it caused them to struggle with breathing. This is not a sleight or even a universal experience it is a comment I mention to illustrate how massive this con is. I don't want anyone to think this Con was a Tanacon blunder or something. It wasn't they had plenty of space to do what they needed to do but it was clear that they might soon out grow the venue if their growth continues on the same trajectory.)

Pictured below is the schematic Silver Scream Con posted to their instagram so you can get a rough idea of the space (although I would not say it is necessarily true to size at all, it is a good idea of how things were set up)

Not only that, it taps into a previously untapped market just like Spooky World. The world of horror and alternative music (metal, punk, etc) has always been intrinsically intertwined. Most alternative people love horror whether its for the way the genre speaks to the fears of the time or the way the genre is constantly evolving. Previously, if you wanted to gather as an alternative music lover you'd go to a festival or a concert or any number of underground shows. Meanwhile if you are a horror lover you have, in recent history, always had conventions to go to. Spencer Charnas/ Ice Nine Kills artfully bring both worlds together in a clash that really tears the line between fantasy and reality (in regards to their two recent albums: Silver Scream and then Silver Scream 2: Welcome to Horrorwood where Charnas is the lead protagonist of the album concepts as a killer out for blood and does it through the killers we all know and love.) As far as I know this has never been done before, and if it has, it is nothing in comparison to what Ice Nine Kills and team is doing now. Right now they are making history in a big way.

For a moment I would like to pivot to their concert. At Silver Scream Con they always have a concert where they bring special guests to perform with them plus a couple of opener bands. (This year, I can't speak for last year, Dead Meat James played the Sax during IT is The End and Leah Voysey (actress, from Terrifer, Clown Cafe Host) performed during Grave Mistake. The lines for the concert spanned blocks even when it was divvied up in threes (General Admit being the longest multiple blocks, then you had Psychos Only Access [special subscription for Ice Nine Kills] and their RIP vip line.) The line for general admit was so long I showed up 45 minutes early and missed the first opening act in its entirety while I waited to be let into the City Hall Lynn Auditorium building. (Which actually was disappointing because it was Funeral Portrait.) The line was so massive a guy coming through in a taxi rolled down his window and asked the line who we were seeing because he was so impressed by the line and immediately decided to look them up.

Anyway,

All this to say, I can't wait to see how Ice Nine Kills and staff deal with how explosive they are becoming and I will not be surprised if looking into a new venue for the Convention is in their future.

Cheers for now!

Muerte Por Favor.

[mbrainspaz]

I had to work sunrise to sunset this christmas so I guess we're doing a christmas work rant. The young employee who's always tried to bully me high school style has been trying not so subtly to get rid of me, right? Well anyway, I can't tell if she's lying about the corporate boss plotting to give me the boot or just trying to scare me into leaving. If it's the latter, joke's on her because it's next to impossible getting hired anywhere else as a noticeably neurodivergent 'too old to still be single' queer woman? whatever guy with 3 dogs & a senior horse. Doesn't matter that I still don't have any tattoos.

The work 'evaluation' meeting we had recently seemed to go well with the boss even admitting that she'd short-staffed the business for the hardest part of the year and caused me to have problems. Corporate types are all snakes though. I don't even trust her as far as I could throw her, which is probably only 1 or 2 feet because a 5 gallon bucket of water is about the limit of what I can toss without messing up my back.

I was just thinking back to the clash we had over the summer. I'd been picking up the slack for months. Doing 50 hours a week of ranch work on average, and not even logging all of it. My one coworker (the 'manager') was slacking off and taking tons of vacations. I was tired all the time. I had no life outside of work. I even put my 3x more profitable illustration work on hold. And still when I asked to be paid for 2 hours too many the boss turned on me like grandpa Bilbo seeing the ring. She actually accused me of trying to "steal" from the company. Because I was requesting too much overtime in order to keep her damn business running somewhat smoothly in a 3 month 100+ degree heatwave.

After that I had a long talk with my corporate CEO uncle, who loves talking about Business. He said it was my mistake all along. That was hard to take but I can admit I messed up. I had to reevaluate my whole life from that point. Again.

When you're raised with that puritanical 50's martyr-like work ethic you're set up for failure. "Nobody wants to work anymore"? I want to work! I want to work harder than anyone will pay me to work. And like a fool I did anyway, and I got burned for it. Again.

Sometimes I really can't believe where I am now. Like true, I am insane by some metrics, but I still got a degree with honors, customers love me, I speak 2.5 languages, I have management experience, I've successfully run a whole boarding stable on my own, and my personal hobby that I do for FUN is finding the most efficient way to do the most tasks possible. Time blindness who? I don't need to see that bitch, I know exactly how long it takes me to walk across the room. And here I still am getting paid 2k a month, stuck living behind a barn, with a boss who was deeply offended when I told her the 31 cent raise (gotta appreciate that extra penny) she gave me was the second lowest I'd ever gotten. The only lower one being the automatic $.25 raise I got for working at the roach infested college sandwich shop for 2 semesters over a decade ago.

But nah, it's a always been a me problem. I should've known better than to work harder than they were willing to pay me. Am I also about to get nerfed by corporate for not volunteering to do extra unpaid work now? Uh—YEH. Of course I am! Foolish of me to imagine there was any way to win this.

I just can't get over the fact that I was giving them so much value for the pennies they were paying and it still was barely enough to qualify for basic survival. The boss doesn't even see or understand a fraction of what I did for this business. At one point she haughtily tried to remind me that I was also getting 'free rent' and board for my horse, but it's like, 'yeah, and you're getting someone present at your business 24/7 and a worker who can better connect with boarders.' Don't act like you're doing me a favor. I'm not your charity case. I'd rather have an extra 2K a month and live offsite. Except I'd need another 3k a month to afford rent within 50 miles.

I'm just so angry at every hustle culture shill and out of touch boomer who's still out there lying—saying that all it takes is a 'can do' attitude and maybe a college degree.

Apart from the year I was too ill to work I've worked multiple grueling jobs, 40+ hours a week for my whole adult life, I've lived on eggs and bologna for most of it, and if I lose this job in January I'll be homeless. Again.

Make it make sense. Make the meritocracy they hallucinate exist for me for FIVE MINUTES. Just once.

I just want someone with money to see everything I can do and say, "you're cool, I think you deserve to live. Not only that, but here's enough money that you can afford to do something crazy-banana-town like some regular maintenance on your car."

What's worse, sometimes, is that I know if I just gave in and played the stock market and did the credit card schemes and maybe did a few other crimes and exploited some other poor saps, I could probably actually make it. I hate it so much.

I am the ghost of christmas future.