#I was at the grocery store looking at cards and that shit was like 7+ bucks???

[worthyking]

i have this pre-wedding party thing in a couple of hours (am going to be late) and IDKKK how much money to give because I truly truly am not close to her at all (was shook to be invited tbh?) but I don't want to be cheap but I also am broke..was thinking $50 but it seems v low and if we were friend friends I would give way more but for the status of our relationship...idk??

[aliceinchainscr]

Sean Kinnney’s sister posted this on Facebook about Layne Staley.

A message from a long time friend of Layne's. It does not matter that the friend did not sign their name at the end of this message...it only makes it more clear that this person was a TRUE friend to Layne.

Some people have to step on others to feel good about

themselves. Others

think money is the answer to all things. Layne would be laughing

that anyone

is even talking about him and glad that those full of anger have

a place to

spew it out. Maybe if they shit it all out of their system they

will have

only good left in them, one can only hope.

Labeling Layne a junkie is as ridiculous as calling someone Big

Nose Joe or

Straight Haired Mary, and those of you who have to do it look in

the mirror

and tell me you don't see faults. Layne wasn't a Rockstar, he

was a human

being with the same human feelings we all have about ourselves.

He also had

the same insecurities. People who don't know you saying they

love you

doesn't change how you perceive yourself, because the bottom

line is you

know the truth. Those talking about him don't even know him.

Layne had a disease he tried desperately to rid himself of and

wished he

didn't have. Would you be so cruel to someone who had cancer?

You don't just

walk away from an addiction. If it's so easy, I challenge anyone

to give up

something as simple as sugar/high fructose corn syrup. I bet

they couldn't

even for one week; it's in everything: bread, mayonnaise, fruit

juice etc.

Until you've walked in those shoes........

As far as having the resources to get off it, there are far more

sick fucks

out there that wanted to get close to him by mailing him drugs,

and putting

them in his pocket when he'd go out, or stalking him than

friends and

family. Let me tell you he had a ton of those. To protect him

from those

people meant a lifestyle where your full time job was to

baby-sit the

situation. Who can pay their bills and live a normal life

protecting someone

else 24/7?

Layne was a beautiful sensitive man that would do anything for

anyone. He

loved everyone and truly appreciated that people dug him, dug

the band and

dug the music. The world is an uglier place without his

kindness,his warmth,

his great sense of humor, and his fun. Layne never accepted the

title of

Rockstar. He was just easygoing, approachable Layne. He thought

it was weird

people would want his autograph and people were down right rude

trying to

get it. While he was out to dinner or even going to the

bathroom. Being

successful doesn't allow people to have the right to do that.

What happened

to common courtesy? Yet he would oblige, smile and be friendly.

Layne didn't think of himself as a great artist. He was just a

man that

loved art, and I can say one of the most artistic people ever.

He could do

anything that involved creating art and do it extraordinarily

well.

I remember him talking to Kurt once about "how do you react to

the person

acting like your best friend that used to make your life pure

hell when you

were in school, then were too nice to tell them to fuck off?"

Instead they'd

be nice and let it eat them up inside.

Layne lost the love of his life 6 years ago; people would

actually show up

at the hospital with heroin for her in hopes of seeing him. Fans

even showed

up to her funeral! She too couldn't get away from the harassing

dealers and

on many occasions would have to hide in their house because

dealers or fans

with drugs would sit out front and stalk the place relentlessly.

Not for 20

minutes, not for an hour, we're talking: camping out, sleeping

in their

cars, sitting on the porch, and banging on the windows. Tell me

how you quit

an addiction when it's put in your face everywhere you turn?

Think of all

the freedoms you have, like going to the grocery store, going to

get gas,

going anywhere, which he didn't have.

You know how many people pretended to want to help him and ended

up stealing

from him? Not just things like money, his credit cards, music

equipment,

etc. but personal stuff he couldn't replace? Like pictures of

him and Demri,

or him and his friends, or him and his family. Those were

commodities to

people, to him they were valued treasures. Layne was never a

person to those

people, he was just a badge where people with low self-esteem

could brag

they knew him. In his altered sense and with his kind heart he

would never

get it until it was too late. When he did, he never did anything

harsh, like

press-charges. Those people robbed him of his girlfriend, robbed

him of his

family, and robbed him of his friends. Who out there would like

to go

through life wondering if everyone in your life has ulterior

motives and

never really knowing? The disappointment of how you'd feel when

you

discovered, one after another after another, had listened to

your innermost

personal thoughts, pretended to be a friend and wasn't.

He couldn't go back to music because heroin ravished his body

and it made

him feel more insecure and more like a target. Because of those

that feel

the need to put someone else down to feel good about themselves.

He spent

the last 5 years existing, not living. The Layne that died

wasn't the beam

of light he was to everyone that knew him. Although it was in

there

somewhere. Or the jokester that thought that farts were funny

and that would

laugh when Demri would geek out on a song or a commercial. He

didn't have a

home that was an open door to everyone like he did when he lived

on

Eastlake. The pad you could crash at after getting a little to

drunk at the

Off-Ramp or partying at the Son of Man house or El Steiner's.

Those were the

days he loved; a surprise birthday party at Naf's that Demri put

together

and his friends from War Babies, My Sister's Machine, Sweet

Water, Love on

Ice, etc. Playing, dressing up as a peasant girl for Halloween,

anything

chocolate, hanging out in the summer. It takes more than wanting

that back

for it to happen.

So they can say what they want, because the bottom line is it

doesn't matter

to those of us who knew and loved Layne and it certainly

wouldn't to Layne.

I doubt they matter to anyone in their lives and that's what's

really sad.

That they have to, like the drug addict harassers, latch on to

him in anyway

they can to feel like they got a piece of him and like they've

touched

greatness. What's even sadder is it's their loss because they

don't have a

person in their lives that would go to any lengths to put a

smile on their

face, do something for them, say nice things about them,

compliment them, or

make them feel good about themselves. Someone who would tell you

how much

value you had to him and to his life. All of us who knew him and

Demri could

go the rest of our lives as hermits with all the positivity they

passed on

to us because no one would be so lucky to get that in one

lifetime, let

alone from just 2 people.

I am glad he's not suffering anymore and I have no doubt Demri's

more than

happy to have him back. I am sure she's the Hostess with the

Mostest and has

made a home for everyone. With Andy, Shannon and Kurt who shared

her

birthday. With the recent death of one of her brothers, who died

in a car

crash last month. I'm positive, being the social butterfly she

is, everyone

in music is at their pad and they're just waiting for the rest

of us they

loved, and who loved them back, to arrive. Poor Layne has gone

back to being

the guy that everyone says, "Oh you're the guy that's Demri's

boyfriend";

with her being the celebrity in the family like it was when they

were first

dating.

Though I knew it would end this way, I refuse to forget the way

he was.

His name was Layne Elmer.

He liked wood shop and music.

He was a drummer first, then a singer.

He smoked some pot and popped cross tops.

He sang Metallica and Mercyful Fate covers in spandex and big

hair.

Even though he changed his last name, I always called him Elmer.

Even though he made it big, he always made time to visit with me

at shows.

Even though we didn't keep close contact, we always asked about

each others

families.

Even though he was famous, he acted like he wasn't.

Even though Layne Staley is a "God" or "Legend" to his fans, He

will always

be Layne Elmer to me.

[punkbakerchristine]

we thought this was going to be a new venture for us as it’s initially a bit cheaper than hellofresh, but as it turns out, the second week is twice what it is for hf 😅

we go back to hf next week, but let’s see how this week goes? something new and different the next few days, including fish (which i’ve been craving for months now).

okay, first observation is the prep time. it’s basically just: take off protective packaging, pop into the microwave for a couple of minutes/put in the skillet for a bit, done. one thing that hellofresh has done to me is made me a stickler for fresh ingredients and also using my hands. i like prepping veggies and proteins. i like getting the pasta or rice or couscous started and letting it cook. i’ve always liked using my hands and working with them, and it’s really picked up the pace since i got into cooking and baking.

i will say this: it is really healthy food, which i love and makes me feel better (i’ve been wanting healthy food lately, and it’s good for my mom, especially). it’s good to know that i’m eating food made from genuinely fresh ingredients and i again know where it’s coming from. it’s not the cheap garbage filled with preservatives and shit that you get from the frozen food section at the grocery store.

we had korean barbecue chicken tonight, which i was looking forward to (because i love asian barbecue). korean barbecue chicken with rice noodles and pea pods.

second observation: i guess i’m just acquainted with seeing fresh vegetables and packs of spices, rice, and things, but look at this packaging.

something about it says “food for soldiers”, or “food for astronauts” to me. i can’t explain it but there’s something off about it. it gives me the same feeling a person of my caliber would feel walking into a whole foods market, or how we felt walking into the dermatologist’s office last week: these almost feel… i want to say “out of place”? like i’m a poor bastard who gets her hands dirty, what the hell am i doing with this classy stuff from the health food section?

i see these noodles right next to the kosher section (i see them next to the egg noodles). this is like a $7 box of noodles here.

next observation: the box came with more stuff. we’re talking snack food and some breakfast things (compare this to the mere bonus item that we get from hf). my mom and i tried the packs of tiny cookies that came with the box yesterday: i actually really liked them (well, i’m a fan of cookies, crispy or not; she likes soft cookies by comparison), but i knew right away that this wasn’t going to last.

next: the instructions.

you’ll see that i have absolutely no idea what the hell is happening here. “2-3 minutes”, well, okay, how are the peas supposed to look? that’s what i like about hellofresh’s instructions is they tell you what to look for, like if the veggies are supposed to be slightly browned and softened (especially if you’re like me and you never really got a taste of how to cook until you were 18/19).

set aside… on a plate?

oh, and the chicken was like this big block of pre-cooked chicken. i had hell of a time trying to break it up with my spatula, too (i had to use the tongs and the kitchen scissors to cut it up in this odd awkward maneuver that made me miss the simplicity of my little blue spatula or the wooden spoon).

and again, akin to how the packaging looked: this is the sheet of directions for the week:

“cooked.wiki/“ works for recipe websites utterly littered with a shitload of videos, gifs, ads, and meandering blog text to the point they’re unwieldy and crash about 50 times in 10 minutes, not physical recipe cards. again. “food for soldiers”.

next is the taste.

the peas were the best part. i got lucky with the peas.

wasn’t a fan of the noodles, and i don’t have a clue if it was because they were rice or that i couldn’t salt a pot of water to cook them in.

the chicken, even though the package said it was seasoned and there was the bulgogi sauce on it, was weirdly bland.

and the whole time i was eating, i just kept thinking, “this is missing something, and not just salt or candied peanuts or something.” i’ve had food like that before, food from people who were absolutely miserable and hated their lives: something is missing and you can’t really explain what it is.

i’m glad this is only lasting until friday because there’s no freaking way.

[ghostpill79]

Need to go to sleep. I am tired. But feel like not sleeping.

Read a few pages a live blog

Watched like a half an episode of joe pera talks to you.

Watched entirety of documentary- my kid could paint that. Was solid. 7/10. It was a interesting story.

This is in reversed order by the way^.

Other things happened today.

Went of a walk and saw Emma and Syd. They were eating cookout. I stopped and sat down and chatted. We talked shit on other Emma. Talked about ripping of ass holes. Emma gave me their left over cook out which I ate and then continued on my walk. Thinking about how I’m consciously trying to use the right version if there/their and they’re now because lanie called me out on it.

Listened to Downward Spiral album by Nine inch nails. Texted mom a screenshot of the song piggy and said “ lovve this song^”. She said it was a good song. I also sent her a picture of multi vitamins I got got (stole) from the grocery store. I stole way more stuff then I usually do. The self checkout thing stopped working and alerted the employee who watched over the self checkout line. Apparently I just forgot to put in my vic card. It’s very easy to steal things from self checkout especially and this certain grocery store that I won’t name even though i definitely have before hand in my live blogs. Anyway drive back to apartment. Finished eating cookie in my car. Another car drove by and guy gave me a weird look felt like he was judging me for eating.

Other stuff happened but I’m tired.

And I neeeed to go to sleep- I want finish up all my hw tomorrow.

[lachrimae-verae]

I used to work at a grocery that is a synonym with Huge. Because I was willing to work closing shift as a cashier I saw a lot of people who relied on WIC. My grocery store was kinda of the worst, especially bc of management, but I quickly learned its kinda easy to 'mis-scan' aka not scan something. I regularly would do so, within reason so I never got flagged for having an off register.

One thing I also noticed was this one mom. She always came in 30 minutes to closing. So, 9:30ish. She looked exhausted, and was clearly underweight. She was super embarrassed to be using a wic card. After a few visits she realized I'm not a judgmental piece of shit like some of my coworkers were, so she always checked out with me. I quickly learned she had unexpected twins, and her husband had recently died of cancer. Her kids never got to meet their dad. Her mom helped out, but only was able to cover nights, hence the latw night shopping. Her stress levels were making it hard to produce milk, but only a certain amount was covered by wic.

You can probably guess I sometimes didn't scan her formula. Not often bc it was something my bosses regularly checked, but I regularly would 'scan' things making sure they didn't actually get rung up. I think at a certain point she realized what I was doing, but neither of us ever said anything. He kids must be 7 or 8 now. I hope they are doing well. I hope cashiers continue to fuck over corporations in this way forever

Blogging again b/c many in this country are desperate enough that they have to steal formula. If you see this, you didn't see a thing.

[heyheycaitalin]

May I humbly, respectfully, ask everyone to learn how to grocery shop.

And like I don't mean the basic get a cart, throw shit you want in the cart, put it on the checkout counter, pay, take your bags of shit home.

What I mean is a shocking number of people don't know how to shop within their budget. If you have $50 on your card, you can't throw $200 worth of shit in the cart. You could, but the cashier is going to secretly dread seeing you if this is a repetitive thing.

Ok so here's how to shop.

Figure out how much money you got to work with.

Look at the price tag on the shelf. Round up to the next dollar. This gives wiggle room for tax or if the price is slightly higher.

Lots of people see something like $2.87 and think it's $2. No! That 87 cents ain't going anywhere, and in America there's tax usually. If you're gonna round, round up. Never round down.

Every time you add something in the cart, keep a running total in your head or on a notepad.

If it's something that is charged by weight (grapes, tomatoes, loose apples), round up the price per pound then weigh it. Round up the weight to the next half or quarter pound. Get out the calculator on your phone and do the math. Price x weight. Round up the result to the next dollar.

If you're paying with EBT food but you need not food stuff, figure out a method to keep a separate running total for that. Could be a notepad. Calculator app. Get in a habit of saying the total for both whenever you add something "40 food, 15 not food"

When I started grocery shopping for myself, I just got not-food stuff in a separate trip. I went to Grant's supermarket for food, put it in the car, then went to Dollar General next door for the not-food.

If you're not sure if you'll have enough for everything, you can come back. Get the stuff you definitely want. After you checkout and figure out how much you have left, go back in if you want. Or come back another day.

If you're not sure if you really want something, put it back where you found it. Again, if you really want it later, you can come back.

If you absolutely need to know how much it'll be exactly, you're gonna need your calculator.

Ask an associate how much tax is or Google your state's sales tax. At the store I work at, it'll say at the bottom of the receipt.

Every time you add something, put the exact price from the shelf in your calculator.

When you're done shopping, we gotta figure out the total including tax. EBT and WIC (in my state at least) doesn't add tax. Ignore this step if you're only paying with EBT or WIC. Or if you're a lucky bastard where there's no extra tax.

If the tax is 7%, that equals 0.07

Total x 0.07 = tax, then Total + tax = Final Total

You can also do it as Total x 1.07 = Final Total

There you go that's how you shop. I've shopped like this for nearly 10 years and never had an issue. I wish every customer had a similar method to shopping.

Your total at checkout isn't a random mystery the cashier pulls out of their ass. It's literally the price on the shelf plus tax. If you've got a phone in your pocket or can do basic adding in your head, you can get a ballpark estimate of how much it'll be.

Please, for the love of god and my mental health, stop loading up your cart with $200 worth of stuff if you know you only have $30 in your account.

[brokestminimalist]

How to Go Shopping

I actually hate shopping. Some people do it for fun, but some of us want to get in and out without spending our whole paycheck. Grocery pickup is a great tool and I'm never going to give it up, but every once in a while there's no choice but to go into a store in person. Here's how in 10 easy steps:

1. Make a list. Preferably on your phone, so you won't lose it, but paper is fine too. Make a COMPLETE list. Walk around your house, look in cabinets, check your bathroom and laundry room. Leave nothing out. If the store you're going to has an app, you can put items in your cart on the app and use that as a list. Bonus: it'll tell you roughly how much you're going to be spending.

2. Know how much money you can spend. Check your bank account, just to be sure. Make sure you have the correct payment method with you.

3. Go to the store. If you're driving your own car, I find it more convenient to park next to a buggy corral than near the front. That way, after unloading your groceries, you don't have far to go to put up your cart.

4. Go inside and grab your stuff. Aim for non-food items first, then pet food, then non-cold food, then cold food. You don't want to be putting ice cream in your cart and then wandering around for another hour. If you have large items, such as big boxes of diapers or bags of dog food, place those items near the end of the cart with the bar code facing up.

5. Check your list as you go. Don't deviate from it; this is how we make excuses and overspend. Don't stop in the middle of an aisle in everyone's way, either. Pull over to the side or find a low-traffic area.

6. Go to the check-out line. If you have more than ten items, don't get in the 10 Or Fewer Line, it's rude. Also don't hop between lines, just pick one and be done with it. You'll get through when you get through.

7. Put your items on the belt. If there is someone ahead of you, use a divider. If there is no divider, leave a generous space. Put them on the belt in an orderly fashion, do not just pile them up all willy-nilly. It'll help speed up the cashier and keep things from spilling.

8. Bag the items and put them in back in your cart as they are being scanned, at least as much as is possible. If you've got those large items placed in your buggy, barcode up, point them out to the cashier. It'll be faster for them to scan the item in the buggy than for you to struggle with getting them on the belt. If something doesn't ring up at the price you think it was supposed to, this is the point at which to open your mouth and say something about it. Do NOT wait until you have already paid, Jesus Christ what is wrong with people ANYWAY

9. Pay the cashier. Have your payment method ready before the cashier finishes scanning the items. Do not stand there staring off into space, do not be digging around in your purse. Be ready, because you knew this was where your adventure was going. Swipe your card, hand over the cash, or write the check quickly. If you are writing a check don't this is not 1965 what are you doing bring your own pen and have everything pre-filled so you can just add the total.

10. Bag and load up your groceries while the cashier processes your payment. Thank her. Load up your groceries, put your cart away, and go home.

Here are some things to Not Do At A Store:

~ Don't have a family reunion in the middle of an aisle with someone you haven't seen in 10 years while blocking anyone else from getting by

~ Don't walk through the front door and then stop to dig around in your purse or look at your list. THERE ARE PEOPLE BEHIND YOU TRYING TO GET INSIDE

~ Don't make stupid jokes at the cashier about how LOL IF IT DIDN'T RING UP IT MUST BE FREE gee that was so hilarious the first 3000 times they heard it. You look like a jerk.

~ If the cashier asks to see your ID for an item, don't argue with them about it, just hand it over. No one gives a shit what you think your rights are, we all just want to get out of here and go home.

~ If you have a coupon that's expired, build a bridge and get over it.

~ Don't let your kids run amok

~ If you have a kid that's crying and doesn't stop after about 90 seconds, take them outside until they calm down. Everyone will be less stressed out, including you. Or better yet, get a sitter or do a grocery pick-up instead if at all possible.

~ If you have an item you've decided you don't want, don't randomly set it down somewhere. Hand it to the cashier and just tell her you changed your mind. It's much easier for her to put it in a restock bin than it is for a stocker to try to find it in the random spot you put it in later.

~ Don't bring a pet with you unless it's a registered service animal. Your untrained chihuahua that shits in the cart and barks at everyone who walks by is NOT a service animal.

~ Don't make messes. Don't unfold a whole stack of shirts and sling them all over a table, what are you like 4 years old?

Grocery or other shopping doesn't have to be an ordeal. Get in and get out, be courteous, and get back to the rest of your day, folks. Also, happy summer.

[your-eternal-muse]

You Gave Her Your Sweater

Heather Series Part 11

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Bonus!:Readers Card Confession Bonus!:To Hold On, To Let Go, Spencers take Bonus!:Series Playlist

Summery: Reader runs into Heather while wearing Spencer’s sweater, solidifying the difference in their relationships.

Words: 1.5k

Warnings: Swearing, pregnancy, mentions of cheating

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

A/N: Okay guys, the next chapter is the last one! And I promise its gonna be so fucking long, and so fucking cute it’ll give you cavities. I’m gonna give you the good shit. The next couple weeks I might be a little slower at posting because I submitted an application for an apartment me and my sister want, and I’m fairly certain were gonna get it, so I’ll be busy packing and stuff. Thank you for your continued support!

~~~~~

I never liked grocery shopping.

I know it’s essential, but the task itself is so draining, so boring.

Even still, I can’t help but wander around, buying shit that looks good that I absolutely do not need.

I know you’re not supposed to go when you’re hungry, but I can’t help it.

I guess that’s an upside of being married to the man I am.

While one of his hands is situated in the back pocket of my jeans, the other holds a piece of paper that holds our grocery list, and he is a stickler for keeping to it.

He’s subtly leading me down the aisles as I push the cart, which is already half full of what we need.

Grocery shopping with Spencer is different.

It doesn’t feel like a chore when he’s with me.

It also cuts the time by at least half, because he doesn’t let me stray from the list. 

But I’ve had a special circumstance these past few months.

“You know what sounds so good right now?” I ask him, as he begins to lead me down the cereal aisle.

“What’s that baby?”

He removes his hand from my pocket, reaching up to grab a box off the top shelf.

“Shrimp. With cocktail sauce.”

My mouth starts to water just thinking about it.

He laughs, walking back to me, placing it in our cart.

“You hate shrimp.”

I roll my eyes. “I also hate pickles, but last week I couldn’t stop eating them. And besides,” I run my hands over my growing belly. “It’s not my fault.”

He smiles, shaking his head, coming forward to rest his hands on top of mine, leaning down and kissing the tip of my nose.

“I’ll go get you some. While you,” he slips the list into the front pocket of the sweatshirt I’m wearing. “Continue shopping.”

“Thank you, Spence.”

“Anything for my girls.”

His hands come to lift the hood over my head, pulling the string, shrinking it around my face.

“I’m never gonna get my sweatshirt back am I?”

I shake my head. “I’m gonna be buried in this thing.”

He rolls his eyes before leaning down and placing a gentle kiss on my lips.

“It looks better on you anyways. I’ll be right back.”

He turns and walks back down the aisle, only to turn back and say “Don’t stray from the list!”

I raise my hands defensively. “I won’t!”

I watch as he disappears around the corner before reaching into the cart and pulling out the box of cheerios, doing my best to place it back on the shelf.

“How can he like cheerios? Fuckin’ weirdo, Reese's Puffs are where it’s at.”

I grab the orange box, only pausing when I feel a kick against my side. 

“I’m gonna assume you agree with me. Cheerios are nasty. Don’t worry, we’ll make daddy see.”

Another movement, and my hand finds the place against my side, pressing lightly. “Okay, baby girl, mama still has to shop.”

“You’re wearing his sweater.”

I pause my movements, my hand still resting on my stomach.

It can’t be.

I mean it can, you do live in the same area that she does.

I turn, to see Heather standing in the middle of the aisle, her gaze falling down to my stomach, and then back up to the lettering across my chest that says ‘CalTech’.

I shove my hands into the front pocket, not really sure what to say. 

“I was cold, and I forgot mine at my place when he gave it to me.” I take my left hand out to brush some hair out of my face, letting her see the diamond ring that rests on my finger.

“He never offered one to me. Even when I forgot mine.” Her hands are in her front pockets of her jeans, and she doesn’t meet my eye.

I shrug. 

Is that supposed to make me feel bad for you?

“I don’t know what you want me to say to that, Heather.”

It’s quiet for a moment, as much as it can be in the middle of a grocery store. 

She’s the one to break the silence. “How far along are you?”

None of your fucking business bitch.

“6 months.” I cradle my stomach with my hands, smiling down at it. “We’re having a girl.”

She shuffles from side to side, running her hands over her jeans, her arms, through her hair.

I can’t help being proud of the fact that even six months pregnant, I still make her nervous. 

“You know, we talked about having kids. Or well, I talked.” It’s then that she finally meets my eye. “He told me he didn’t want any.”

I let a smirk slide over my face. “Spencer loves kids. Even before we got together he always said he wanted kids.” I look her up and down. “Guess he just didn’t want any with you.”

It’s been three years. It’s been a long time, and I know Spencer’s over her. I know I should throw her a bone, ease up on the sarcasm and poison laced words.

But she hurt him. She broke him. It took months for him to fully admit that he did love her in some way, shape or form, and that the betrayal of that love hurt. 

I would never forgive her for that, no matter what she did. No matter if he does.

The look of hurt passes over her face, but then a crying child is heard behind her and she turns. 

I look over her shoulder, and the man I saw that night at the bar is walking towards her with a spitting image of her in the seat. 

The child is crying over something I couldn’t really decipher, and I see her shoulders tense as his eyes meet mine.

I take in the ring on his finger, the one on hers, and finally look at how old her daughter is.

She knows, and turns back to me, panic slapped across her face.

“How old is she?”

She swallows, and her husband is trying to get her to stop crying. “She’s two and half.”

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what that implies.

It’s just one thing after another, isn’t it?

“You gotta be kidding me. Are you fucking serious right now?” I cross my arms over my chest, cocking an eyebrow. 

She starts to pick at her cuticles. “I didn’t find out until after the divorce was finalized. My doctor said I got pregnant at the end of April.” 

She was pregnant with another man's baby for almost 2 and half months, while being married to him.

Buckle up baby, I’m about to rock this bitches shit for a second time.

“You were going to pass it off as his, weren’t you? You were going to fuck him, and than two weeks later tell him that you were pregnant.”

I take a step forward, anger boiling in my chest. “You know he’s a fucking genius right? He’d do the math in .2 seconds and figure it out? What is with you and thinking you can get away with this shit?”

He must have sensed a disturbance in the force, because not two seconds later he comes around the corner, holding my snack in his hands, only to pause when he takes in the scene. 

His eyes flicker to me, then to Heather, the baby, and finally the man, who is puffing his chest to try and appear like the alpha male he thinks he is.

His hands tighten around the container of shrimp, before walking past all three of them, coming to stand behind me, tossing the container into the cart, one hand back in my back pocket, the other in his front. 

He stares down Heather, his eyes going back to the child every couple of seconds. 

I know he’s doing the math in his head, and he figured it out probably faster than I did.

“Unbelievable.”

She pinches the bridge of her crooked nose, looking up to say something but I cut her off. 

“Don’t. You have nothing to prove to us. You made your choice, now you have to live with it.” I look at the man behind her.

“Not even half the man.”

Spencer turns towards me, his chest moving to contain laughter at the look on her face.

Not giving her a chance to get the last word, I turn, and push the cart down the rest of the aisle, turning it as I hear her start to yell at him and her daughter.

He pulls me into an empty one a few rows down, turning me to face him as he leans down and kisses me. 

I wish I could kiss him forever.

“I love you so much, you don’t even know.”

I grab his hands and place them on my stomach, where our daughter was making herself comfortable. “I think I have an idea.”

He laughs, his eyes not leaving my stomach as he feels her movements. 

After a few moments, he removes his hands, grabbing one of my own as he turns me back around to keep shopping. 

“Really?” He points to the box of Reese's Puffs. 

“What? The list said cereal, Reese's puffs are cereal!”

He shakes his head, kissing the top of my head. 

“Whatever you say, dear.”

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[volleyball-dontknowher]

Money Troubles

Kuroo x reader, Bokuto x reader

Words: 1,8k 

Warnings: none

Summary: Reader has money troubles and the boys are so sweet about it 

A/n: Y’all this hits so close to home like I grew up really poor for a long time and if that is where you are right now, please know that things do get better and it is all going to be okay :) 

Kuroo

You and Kuroo had been friends forever and just recently made the jump from best friends to lovers and it honestly didn’t change much, except how often the two of you went out. Kuroo was always taking you out places and spoiling you rotten but you knew that you couldn’t do the same. There was no way that you could afford half of the things that he can but you have no idea how to tell him that. Every time he spends money on you you feel super guilty and bad because you can’t spend the same amount back on him and you had got him a nice gift for Christmas but that is just because you saved every last dollar to spoil him as best you could. He was your best friend and you didn't want him to have to worry about any of this but you also didn’t want him to think that you were cheap or taking advantage of him.

   The issue dwelled in your mind for weeks, you were unsure of what to say or do because you both had never gone out this often before. Tonight was your turn to choose what your date would be and you had made the easy decision, the only decision.

“So what will it be, princess?” Kuroo smirked at you from across the kitchen as he made himself a glass of water.

“Can we stay in and watch the show, Bridgerton, I’ve heard the most amazing things about it,” you smile at him trying to be convincing.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go out?” He questions as he refills his glass. It was almost a week before your next payday and you had $6 left so you really couldn’t afford to go out.

“I think staying home sounds like fun,” you lie, it’s been a stressful week and you knew he could see right through you so you avoided his curious gaze.

“Y/n, love, what is it?” He questions, unsure of your reasoning, “it was your pick and if that’s what you want to do we can go to the store and get snacks and make it a hell of a date night” he reasons with himself.

“No Kuroo that’s really okay,” you barely whisper.

“Hey, what is it?” He now is right by your side giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes.

“It’s nothing Tetsuro,” you shy away.

“If it was nothing you’d be looking at me and told me that you wanted to go try that new Indian restaurant down the street, please y/n,” he says in a calm, loving way.

“You’re right, I would like to try it, but I can’t afford it Kuroo.”

“Why would you think that you’re paying?” He asks, smiling at you.

“Because you always pay, and I always feel bad because I don’t ever pay, and it’s not fair,” you huff at him.

“Y/n Y/l/n I pay because I can pay and because I want to pay and because I know you would never treat yourself to a nice meal even if you did have the money, which by the way is not something you should be embarrassed of. I spent the first two years of our friendship absolutely broke at all times, I slept on Bo’s couch for god sake and you have to be really desperate to do that. Trust me when I tell you that it’s okay, it gets better and once it does then you can bet your ass that I’m still paying for our dates because I have been waiting years to date you and now that I am I am going to spoil the shit out of you, okay? Okay. So get your ass dress we’re getting indian, end of discussion.”

You had no idea what to say or do, he really just said to hell with it and left the room to get ready so you were stuck sitting there alone with your thoughts. ‘How the hell did he know?’ You panicked, worried that this was why he decided to ask you out and date you and that he was going to get sick of you and sick of paying and want to leave.

“I am ordering two meals with or without you so get your ass ready or I’m gonna eat them both” Kuroo mumbles as he brushes his teeth.

You get ready and go out to dinner with him and have an amazing time laughing and eating together. A couple weeks after Kuroo gives you a little wrapped box with your name on it. It was a key to his house with your initials engraved on it.

“Y’know if you ever want to come over, or even” he is blushing a deep red, “or even, I know it’s early, but I’ve known you forever and I can’t see us ever I don’t know, breaking up, so unless you do, I mean, it would be kinda cool if we lived together.”

You sat there in complete shock, did Kuroo just ask if you wanted to move in with him?! You gave him the biggest smile ever as you nodded at him completely speechless.

“But you have to bring your furniture, it’s wayyy nicer than mine and we had our first kiss on that couch so it has to come too.”

And little did you know not only did you move in now mean that you live with your best friend 24/7 but you also don’t grocery shop and your rent is way cheaper because he’s lived there forever. He never once judged or made you feel bad for not being able to pay for things and if he was ever strapped for cash as well you had the best stay in movie nights ever.

Bokuto

Bokuto was a smart guy, sometimes. He may have his dumb moments but he always knew how much he spent and kept a good and accurate budget so he got to live a pretty care free life (it also doesn’t help that he got a volleyball scholarship that paid for his college and you have $500 a month payments) , you on the other hand weren’t as fortunate. It seemed as though all of your money was gone before you even got your check, between food, rent, phone bill, loans, and everything else that came with being alive your little paychecks seemed to dwindle down to nothing. It was something you wanted to change, and luckily you only had a couple months left on your loans because you chose to aggressively pay them off but you wish you didn’t sometimes so you could have a little bit more to spend on life and on Bokuto, you’re adorably loving boyfriend.

It was a day like every other, the two of you out and about doing dumb things around town when you decided to go to Starbucks together. You were extra excited to get apeppermint mocha and Bo was practically vibrating with excitement-and that’s before you give him caffeine. You get up to the counter and order before inserting your card… ‘decline’ the screen reads. You have no idea what to do and your face blushes a bright red.

Without hesitation Bo steps in front of you, orders his drink and pays for your drinks before you can even process anything. He turns and smiles at you and gives you a little kiss and wraps his arms around your shoulders as you go to wait for your drink to be done.

“Bo, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize-“

“Shhh look she’s adding the whip to your drink,” he bounces excitedly hoping that means his drink is next.

You get your drinks and go sit in those giant brown chairs that are the best and most comfortable spot in the entire place and you once again try and thank him for paying for your drink and explain but he stops you again.

“Y/n, lovey, it happens to all of us, okay? Don’t worry about it, seriously. I know you overthink things like this and I don’t want or need you to. We all do it sometimes and it is okay, hell I did it last week at the store, it happens, I’ve got you now and always, so don’t stress yourself out about it. You have a lot to pay for and a lot going on so I don’t want you worrying about the small things when there are lots of bigger things that need your attention, like me. I need your attention  and so having you focus on other things is bad for me and my ego, okay?” He smiles at you after one of the most uncharacteristic moments from him ever.

You just stare at him completely in shock that he just said all of those things to you.

“Ummm helllo earth to y/n,” he repeats two or three times as he waves his hand in front of your face.

“Sorry bo.”

“Can I pleaseee have a sip of your drink? I asked like four times but you were in outer space thinking about the stars or something, but that’s okay, you’re back on earth now, please can I have a sip, it looks so good,” he smiles at you, knowing that you were worrying about it and doing the perfect job of pulling you out of whatever trance you were in.

You let him have a sip of your drink and you get a sip of his (which was even more delicious than anything you’d ever had there). Bokuto continued the conversation and pretty much held up the whole thing and made you laugh the whole time.

The following couple of weeks you noticed that Bo was super helpful and sweet about everything financial and when you finally paid off your student loans he threw you the biggest “college is too expensive” party and celebrated life with you so much. Even after things got better for you he still was happy to pay for a lot of things and even admitted to you that he has been super duper broke too and it is just what happens in life, it happens to all of us and if he finds out that you have been worrying about it than he is going to come and cuddle you to death because he can’t stand the idea of you getting upset over nothing. (Even though he does it all the time, you are different because he wants you to always be happy)

[maymyheartbmyguidingkey]

aren’t we a nice pear

you can blame @duelistkingdom​ for this, not me

Yugi was quickly learning that certain fruits may have been tough to come by during the 18th dynasty - if not non-existent.

His first clue was when he brought a coconut back to the apartment, intending to make his famous coconut curry and sticky rice.

Atem had peeked into his grocery bags, adorably curious (Sugoroku had always done the grocery shopping, and rarely did he ever obtain fresh fruits), and had gasped dramatically, startling Yugi so badly he nearly jumped out of his own skin.

"What? What's wrong? I swear to god, if I broke the eggs -"

But when Yugi swivelled to survey the damage, he found instead Atem holding a coconut aloft, reverently.

His shoulders fell.

"A coconut," Atem hissed. "When father would return from his diplomatic travels he would near always bring coconuts. The juice was divine."

Yugi rolled his eyes good-naturedly and returned to putting away their groceries. "You almost gave me a heart attack over a coconut. What, were they not very popular in your time?"

Atem was silent for long enough that Yugi knew: if he looked back at him right now, he'd be met with an unfairly incredulous stare.

So Yugi turned to him, face resolutely deadpan, finding his prediction entirely correct.

"Yugi, my partner, light of my life -"

Yugi's eyebrows climbed into his hairline.

"- coconuts were an import," Atem said, like it was especially important, clutching the coconut to his chest as if it were a wounded animal. "Only the fabulously wealthy -" he pantomimed tossing hair over his shoulder, "could possibly afford such a luxury good."

Yugi snorted, finding the eggs (thankfully, in good shape) and placing them delicately in their designated spot in the fridge.

"Well you were fabulously wealthy, O dearest Pharaoh, so why are you clinging to it like a starving man?"

"Because coconuts are - what is it Jou always says? It is the most ridiculous - oh yes - lit."

Yugi froze, eyes squeezed shut. "Atem. My world. Dearest heart. Never say that again."

But then his brain buffered. Wait a damn minute -

Eyes comically wide, Yugi said, "Wait. Atem. What kind of fruit did you have?"

Atem pursed his lips, tossing the coconut from hand to hand, resting his elbows on the quartz island between them. "Grapes. I rather liked those. Oh - figs, though I found them too sweet. Nabk -"

“Atem,” Yugi pressed, suddenly desperate, “what’s a strawberry?”

Atem blinked, confused as to how and why the tone of their conversation shifted. “I... suppose I'm not quite sure? When you say the word, an image crops up, but I have not the faintest -”

Yugi was already grabbing his keys. “I'm going back to the store.”

“What on Earth -”

“I’ve been craving cherries anyway. Oh my god, and pomegran - no, wait, you guys had those, right? Pretty sure that was an 8th dynasty thing. Peaches! Pineapple? Holy - I need to learn how to slice a pineapple -”

“Yugi, my love, what is happening right now?”

“Oh, I’m so stupid,” Yugi scoffed, taking Atem by the hand, who squawked indignantly at his self-insult. He dragged Atem hurriedly to the front door, fumbling to slip on his shoes with only one hand. “You can just come with me.”

“Call yourself stupid one more time. I have hands now, Yugi. I can smack you.”

“Why, what better for me to kiss, my dear?” Yugi said, throwing his pharaoh a sly smirk, raising Atem’s knuckles to his lips. Atem’s face flushed a pretty red, and he stared pointedly down at his own backless loafers, grumpily slipping them on.

“Cheeky,” he mumbled, sounding secretly pleased.

☆

“Yugi. Where... what is this place?”

Yugi sent him a bright grin, squeezing Atem's hand where he held it in his jacket pocket. “This, O mighty Pharaoh, is the grocery store.”

Atem gawked at the various signage as Yugi dragged him to the cart well, snatching up a handbasket and promptly making a beeline for the produce section.

“Wait, wait, was that - was that a massive cart to wheel your groceries about in?” Atem asked, incredulous. “How affluent must you be to fill one of those?”

Yugi snorted. “I can't believe I never once brought you to a grocery store. Goes to show how often those lunches from 7/11 saved my life in high school.”

“Oh,” Atem said, staring at the wall of colorful greeting cards as they passed. “Well, this is delightful. It's much like the market, just. Indoors. And with fluorescent lighting.”

“Yeah, you get it,” Yugi encouraged, leaning over to kiss Atem’s temple firmly. “C'mon, this way.”

The produce section was lush today, what with it being a random Thursday afternoon, and Atem was already spotting things he had never seen before but knew the names of (thanks to the brain of a certain now-adult who he had often possessed when he was nothing but a no-name disembodied spirit).

“There! The - what was the word? - strawberries,” he chirped. “What kind of name is that, by the way?”

Yugi squeezed his hand twice, their mutual sign for it’s okay, grab it, holding the basket within Atem’s reach. “Says the guy with nabk. Throw ‘em in there, hot stuff.”

“The -” Atem blanched, holding up a packet of strawberries, confused. “All of them?”

Yugi raised his eyebrows. “Yes? What, you want me to open it and pluck out a single strawberry?”

“Well - wouldn’t - isn’t the whole thing expensive? They seem like they would be expensive.”

“Oh, no,” Yugi slid the basket to the crook of his elbow, swiping up a packet himself and giving the label a read. “Strawberries are one of Japan's biggest exports. Oooh, and I love amaou variety. Perfect for your first try.”

He gently took the packet from a stunned Atem’s hand and dropped both into the basket. Atem sputtered.

“That is - you can just, buy fruit en masse? Affordably?”

Yugi laughed quietly, spotting the pineapples and leading Atem toward them. “Maybe not as cheaply as in other places - we kind of have a thing for designer fruit here. But these packs are only ¥500 each.”

“Only how mu - oh my land, those are horrifying.”

“Yeah, if you’re not used to them, they’re pretty freaky,” Yugi acquiesced, reaching for a piece of the spiky fruit - only for Atem to slap his hand away.

Yugi whipped around to stare at him, bewildered. The look on Atem’s face wouldn’t be out of place beside the dictionary definition of appalled.

“My Yugi will most certainly not be touching the pointy death fruit!” he hissed, gesturing violently toward the pineapples, like his reaction was obvious. “I used to inhabit that body, you know.”

Yugi pressed his lips into a firm line, trying desperately not to burst into laughter.

“Atem. Pharaoh of my heart. My angel,” he whispered, taking a deep breath. “I love you so much. Just - watch this.”

And Yugi - while giving Atem a pointed, amused look - reached again for a pineapple, easily picking one from its perch by its uninviting body.

Atem, perplexed, brows raised in astonishment, stammered. “But - it - you -”

Yugi offered it to him. “It's not a cactus. Its bark is worse than its bite.”

Atem hesitated, but Yugi patiently held the pineapple toward him, nodding encouragingly when Atem met his eyes doubtfully.

And so Atem took it in his elegant, princely hands, brows furrowed in confusion when it did not, in fact, slice him to ribbons.

“But... it looks so evil.”

“Right? But it’s only poke-y. Honestly I just wanna meet the guy who saw one for the first time and immediately thought, “hey, I’m gonna crack this shit open and give it a taste”.”

☆

Yugi created a monster.

They had picked out a few more things for Atem to try, including the promised cherries and peaches (Atem giving a smug “now that is more like it” when he saw the peaches priced at two for ¥1990), but also some things that yugi had realized he took completely for granted: blueberries, kiwis - bananas. God, bananas.

Atem had also discovered that coconut water was sold by itself, in convenient single portions, and had happily trotted off to the self-checkout counter with a case of six, an endeared Yugi in tow.

It had been a week since that fateful day.

Atem sat on their cute little cream loveseat, newly-acquired and much-needed reading glasses on his nose and feet propped up on the matching ottoman, his current read in his lap. He held one of Yugi's many reusable water bottles in his hand, half-full with coconut water, blueberries, strawberries and ice floating prettily at the top. His bottle-holding arm was curled protectively around a bowl precariously perched on the arm rest, where he kept his (perfectly sliced) pineapple rings.

"Living in the lap of luxury, I see," Yugi said, plopping down beside Atem and draping himself directly atop the open book. He gazed up at his boyfriend, mischievous. "Lavish attention upon me as you do your precious books and fruits, O great Pharaoh."

Atem rolled his eyes, plucking a ring of pineapple from the bowl and tearing it in half. Yugi opened his mouth expectantly.

"Who said this was for you?" Atem snorted, popping one half in his mouth. "This is the last of it and you are a brat."

Yugi, as per usual, pouted to get his way. Atem, as per usual, was unable to resist said pout, huffing and presenting Yugi with the other half.

"A brat maybe, but loved by you nonetheless," he cheeked as he chewed.

"Exhibit A. Eat with your mouth closed; you are in the presence of royalty," atem said. "And sit properly, for goodness sake - you'll choke, and I refuse to have that on my conscience."

And sit properly Yugi did - mostly. He slung himself over Atem's shoulders, muttering into his neck, "You know, that's the third pineapple you've -"

"Ananas."

Yugi scoffed. Ever since Atem had Googled the Arabic name for the fruit (an adventure in it's own right), he refused to use anything else.

"Yes, ananas, yet somehow I’m the brat here," Yugi continued, "point being: it's the third one you've decimated this week. We just ran out of bananas, and I think that was the last pack of strawberries, too. I'm gonna go broke."

"This is fine. We can subsist off of fruit alone."

Yugi leaned back and stared into Atem's face, who had gone back to reading his book, unfazed. "You can subsist off of fruit alone. I need meat. Protein."

Atem pulled off his glasses and slapped the book shut, giving Yugi the most skeptical look he’d ever seen. "Yugi. You are a waif."

"Hey! No body-shaming here!" Yugi protested, pulling his legs up and into Atem's lap, again smothering the book. "All the more reason for me to have meat in my diet! I won't survive."

"You know, I used that miraculous thing - Google - and it told me that meat is actually quite bad for you. Did you know that humans only evolved to eat it because -"

Yugi groaned, stuffing his face back into the crook of Atem's neck, his next words muffled. "Google made my boyfriend health-conscious and now I can't have bacon. I'm sending corporate a strongly-worded email."

Atem's quiet laughter was like warm sunshine, and Yugi basked in it, the tell tale thunk of his water bottle being set on the side table music to his ears, as Atem could only be freeing his hand for one reason. He began to stroke Yugi's hair, and if Yugi could purr, the sound of it would reverberate through the entire apartment building.

They fell into a comfortable silence, only broken by the soft sounds of their chewing as they polish off the pineapple rings, Atem more than happy to continue feeding Yugi pieces.

"I may joke around," Yugi finally whispered, like they were the only two who existed in the universe, "but you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I'd sell my kidney to buy you whatever you wanted."

Yugi felt a puff of a laugh against the crown of his head; the press of Atem's lips. "No need to go to such extremities, precious one. You are all I would ever wish for."

[slipping-through-my-fingertips]

Klaine it up! 2, 7, 12, 21, 50

Okay...I got this. PROMPTS FOUND HERE

2 - you accidentally sprayed them with yogurt when you open the lid the wrong way. 

This was not Kurt Hummel’s first time opening yogurt but it might’ve well have been. He was sitting at a picnic table in Central Park on his lunch break from Vogue.com having just picked up a BLT, sweeten iced tea, and strawberry yogurt from his newfound favorite sandwich shop. It just happened to be two blocks down from the Vogue offices too. 

After eating half a sandwich, he found himself watching three young girls practicing their hula-hooping skills. Of course, while entranced by the colorful swirls of plastic, Kurt grabbed his low-fat yogurt and pulled at the lid, and the minute he did another man was being dragged by his golden retriever over to Kurt’s table. 

Before he could stop it, a splash of light pink yogurt was splattered across the front of a bright blue polo. 

“Shit, I am so sorry,” they both said. 

Kurt had a lap full of puppy and the man covered in yogurt. 

“She’s really friendly and has a fondness for bacon,” the man said, gesturing to the sandwich. “And who can blame her.” 

With that comment, Kurt pushed his meal away slightly. Out of reach of the dog’s mouth. 

“I usually am way more careful with my food,” Kurt said. 

The handsome man only laughed, “it’s no big deal, do you happen to have a napkin?” 

“Oh yes!” Kurt reached into his bag to grab one. 

“Thanks,” he said, “come here, Lacey.” 

The puppy sat right at his side and waited. Kurt stood up to wipe the yogurt away while the man kept Lacey still. 

“I can...” he started to say but Kurt was already pulling away having cleaned it up the best he could. 

“Lacey and I also share a fondness for cute boys but I don’t suppose...” he trailed off, blushing. 

Kurt still wasn’t used to being flirted with but this wasn’t small town, Ohio. 

“And who can blame you,” Kurt replied, already grabbing a pen and paper from his bag to write on. 

THE REST OF THE PROMPTS CAN BE FOUND BELOW THE CUT

7 - you both do the side-to-side dance when you try to pass them in the grocery store aisle

Kurt told his dad to pick up an extra heavy whipping cream three days ago when Burt asked if Kurt needed any other ingredients for Thanksgiving dessert. He told him. 

“I only need 3 things: dark chocolate, heavy whipping cream, and almond extract.” 

Burt had gotten everything but Kurt needed whipping cream for both the chocolate mousse itself and the whipped topping he planned to make. Now he was at the crowded grocery store one day prior to Thanksgiving. Exactly where he didn’t want to be. 

 Of course, every grocery store made you walk all the way to the back of the store for dairy products. I’ll just grab milk and eggs real quick, you think, then suddenly you have a cart full of snacks you didn’t need. 

Kurt found the red and white carton fairly quick. He backed up and started to make his way to the self-checkout. Before he could think about the temptation of potato chips, he was stopped by another body. 

They both stopped and shifted their feet to make way for the other. From right to left and back again for several seconds before both falling into pits of laughter. Kurt looked into deep hazel eyes that twinkled at him. He wondered how long he could do this dance just to stare at them some more. 

“That’s my fault, I came around the corner too quick,” he said. 

Not quick enough, Kurt thought, we could’ve fallen to the floor. You on top of me would be quite nice. 

“No, it’s all me,” Kurt replied, “I should’ve been watching where I was going.” 

He fumbles into his pocket for a business card. Isabel’s one-month anniversary gift. 

“If you’re in town longer than tomorrow, I’d love to buy you some coffee as an apology,” Kurt said, handing the card over. 

“Oh.” Kurt watched him scan the card, flipping it over in his hands. “I’d love to, Kurt.” 

A shiver ran down his spine. Maybe he should thank his dad for forgetting the cream. 

12 - you kick a ball and your shoe flies off, hitting them in the back of your head

Blaine used to hate having an older brother. Growing up, he felt constantly in competition with Cooper’s larger-than-life personality. Now that Cooper had settled down in LA with Lisa, his wife, and had two wonderful kids, having an older sibling didn’t seem too bad.

It was summer break, Blaine was free to leave the confines of his NYU dorm room. He was trying to get lost in the sunshine of California to forget he was about to start his final year of college. Time with his niece and nephew was sure to put any nervousness out of his head. 

They were playing soccer in the park when it happened. It was bound to. Everyone in LA was hot. It was like the law. 

Cute boys and Blaine’s non-existence coordination weren’t a good mix. 

Blaine went to kick the ball and caught sight of a bicep. An unusually pale bicep. A rare sight in sunny Los Angles. Arms, Blaine fantasized, he’d love to see wrapped around him or possibly pushing his legs apart. 

He was sure he tighten his laces. This is why Blaine Anderson didn’t wear sneakers. Missed the ball by an inch but the force of his kick sent something flying through the air directly towards the cute guy: a sneaker. 

It happened so fast, Blaine heard the yell of surprise before realizing his sock was exposed. Once he realized what happened, he rushed over to the man. 

“Fuck, I am so sorry,” Blaine said. “Can I do anything?” 

“Well, an aspirin would be great,” the man teased. 

Blaine sat in the grass and chuckled. Still extremely embarrassed. 

“Not exactly the fairytale I always dreamed of.” 

“Fairytale?” Blaine asked, scrunching up his nose in confusion. 

“Cinderella,” he said, like it was obvious, “a lost shoe as it were.” 

“I’m not Cinderella,” Blaine told him, “sorry to say. I’m more of a Blaine.” 

“Kurt.” 

“It’s nice to meet you.” 

“I do believe this is yours,” Kurt said, handing over the shoe. 

21 - Almost spilling a drink because you met their eyes and got distracted thinking how cute they are. 

His dad always said pour your drinks yourself. Blaine became that friend who grabbed drinks for everyone for this reason exactly. He wasn’t sure what the occasion was exactly but his study buddy from his songwriting workshop invited him. It was at some loft in Bushwick but Blaine didn’t mind the adventure. 

Until tonight he had no reason to venture to this part of the city. 

“Blaine!” Elliott exclaimed, pushing a solo cup into his hand, “Drink up, karaoke at eleven!” 

Then he disappeared into the crowd. Blaine headed straight for the kitchen and poured the toxic mixture down the sink. He found a new cup and started reading the labels of the bottles spread out across the counter. Mixers and any alcohol of your choice seemed to be available. 

Rum and coke sounded good. He went into the fridge for a cold soda first. Blaine was happy the kitchen was empty he wasn’t quite ready to start making friends. As far as he knew, Elliott was the only friendly face here tonight. 

He poured the rum in for some semblance of tracking his alcohol intake. The last time he got drunk, he dialed the professor he TA-ed for, who thankfully overlooked that incident. Blaine cracked open the coke and while he poured surveying the living room. 

People were dancing to an upbeat pop song that Blaine strangely didn’t recognize and others were mingling in doorways or sat on scattered sofas and chairs chatting. He caught a pair of blue eyes in the crowd. 

The man they were attached to was stunning. If he hadn’t blinked, Blaine could’ve mistaken him for a marble statue carved by the gods. They didn’t lose eye contact as he walked towards the kitchen. It wasn’t until the man stood on the other side of the counter that Blaine noticed his hand was covered in soda. 

“Papers towels are behind you,” the man offers. 

Blaine set the now empty can down and spun around for paper towels to clean up his mess. 

Just great, he thought, make a fool out of yourself. That’ll score you some points. 

He cleans up his hand before wiping down the puddle of bubbling coke on the counter. 

“I don’t think we’ve met,” he continues, “and this is my party so I like to know all my guests.” 

“Your party?” Blaine stutters. 

“It’s my birthday.” 

“I’m Blaine,” he introduces. “Elliott invited me. We have a class together.” 

“Oh, you’re Blaine. From songwriting workshop.” 

“That’s me.” 

Elliott’s obviously talked about him before to this man. This gorgeous, completely out of Blaine’s league man. 

“God, he’s relentless,” he says. “I’m going to kill him.” 

“Um, might I ask why? I can leave if there’s an issue.” Blaine knows when he isn’t welcome. 

“No, no,” he replies, “don’t go. It’s just he’s been trying to set us up for months now.” 

It all clicks.

“Oh god, you’re Kurt.” 

“That’s me, the birthday boy. and you are Elliott’s idea of the best gift ever.”

Blaine blushes. “I don’t know if I can I've up to that but if I can have the next dance I can try.” 

Kurt nods. “I’d like that, Blaine. A lot.” 

50 - getting paired up on an amusement park ride that requires even-numbered riders

All of Kurt’s friends hated rollercoasters. Rachel didn’t like heights, Elliott refused to do anything with loops, and Santana, well, she was too caught up in her new girlfriend to be bothered. 

“I only wanna hear screaming tonight,” she told him. 

So, Kurt waited in line himself. Some fun day at Coney Island this was turning out to be. He was so glad he was spending the day with friends. Kurt rolled his eyes. 

The woman directing the ride gave Kurt his row number and moved down the line. Behind him someone tapped on his shoulder, Kurt turned around and found himself looking at a curly-haired man around his age. 

“Guess we’re both odd men out then, I’m the single rider in my group today.” 

“Oh, um, no, my friends were too chicken to even ride,” Kurt said. 

“I’m really surprised Wes and David are good to go. They both hate being upside-down.” 

Kurt smiled.

“I'm Blaine, by the way.”

“Kurt.” 

The ride emptied out and Kurt crawled over to the far seat. They buckled themselves in and listened to the instructions to keep all body parts inside at all times. Then, the bar came down and the ride launched. 

After the ride ended, Blaine and Kurt were chatting all the way down. Wes and David trailing behind them.

“That second loop really threw me,” Blaine was saying. 

“I saw,” Kurt exclaimed, “I thought you were going to fall out of your seat.” 

“Downfalls of being short and compact.”

When three more people joined their day at the park, no one questioned it. 

[chandelier-s-notebook]

I'm using @crowfootwrites' June List Day 12: Stroll

Haha we two days late know, oops.

Set in a Villain AU created by @olde-scratch ao3 link

Let me know if you wanna be on the taglist: @sleepysnails @causeimfabulous

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

Time: 17:34, June 1st, 2021

Tommy was parkcouring across the rooftops. Thank fuck. It was so nice to be running and jumping across the city after a day at Private School. It was so liberating.

Tommy made his way to Tubbo and Ranboo’s school.

Look. He knew Ranboo had a volleyball game that night. Ranboo had taken the egg this morning. But Tommy was salty about that so he didn’t go. He knows. He knows. He should have gone. Ranboo took time out of his day to go watch Tommy in the school musical last month. Tommy should have returned the favour.

In his defense, he did the grocery shopping. Yes he bought the marshmallow cereal. Yes he bought Ranboo’s body weight in spaghetti. Yes he bought sausage rolls. And yes bird-care-store-guy-that-definitely-isn’t-one-of-the-members-of-SBI Tommy bought other healthy food as well. Yes Niki he also bought more dish soap and they will stop stealing yours.

Tommy walked into the school. Yes he was in his Theseus gear. Yes that was dumb. But sometimes when he was skipping school he’d don the Theseus gear and walk into theirs. The school population knew Theseus, and for some reason he really liked to come to volleyball events. They also never turned him into the Braidingston Hero HQ.

The school administration turned him in the first time. Their first mistake was telling the heroes to come in during lunch. Tommy supposed it was smart to do it during lunch, because the students would definitely run out of class to meet the heroes. But Tommy got to kick back and relax because Tubbo and Ranboo’s acquaintance Purpled rallied everyone to barricade the heroes out and keep Theseus out of trouble.

But that was then. This was now. Tommy wandered into the gym just as the clock hit zero. Ranboo had won, and he missed the whole thing. Whoops. At least he showed up. He climbed up the drainable pipes along the wall and sat up in the rafters.

Tubbo was glaring at him from the stands.

 Time:  23:12, June 1st, 2021

Okay so Tubbo and Ranboo had been a little mad at him. “Why did you miss my game? It was the final!”

“Are you still on about that?”

“Yes!” Ranboo shouted through his headset.

“I’m sorry. I said I was sorry. I didn’t want to go.”

“I didn’t want to go to your stupid musical.”

“Hey! ‘So Rotten!’ is a great musical.”

“That was uncalled for,” Tubbo admonished. “Tommy didn’t call your game stupid.”

The line went dead, presumably because the two of them were bickering in the room together. After a few minutes Tommy spoke again. “Are you two done?”

“Sorry for calling your musical dumb. You were great as Shakespeare in it.”

“Thank you. It’s hard to be the bard.”

Ranboo snorted over frequency. “Thank you for grocery shopping while you were out missing my game.”

“Be nice.”

“I am being nice.”

“Fine. Robbery in process at the candy store on 7th Street. Teenagers. Security cameras are picking up Purpled.”

“Do I have to stop him?”

“Tommy.”

“Fine fine. On my way. What do you guys want?”

“Anything.”

“M&Ms.”

- - -

Time: 23:15, June 1st, 2021

“Robbery at the candy store on 7th Street,” George read from his wristwatch. “Klupa Boys territory.”

“One of them is probably there right now.” Dream strechted. “Ten bucks on Voidporter. Theseus was out last night.”

“Fifteen on Theseus. Braidingston Public had a volleyball game tonight. I’m sure he’s out.”

“Oh yeah.” Dream shook George’s hand. “I’m still gonna take that bet.”

The two heroes arrive at the scene, they walk down the road and bump right into their targets. Dream and George worked together to apprehend the running teens without hurting them.

“What happened?”

“Theseus saw you guys and dipped,” he boy in the purple sweater said. If he wanted to distract the heroes from dealing with them properly, then they succeeded.

Dream groaned and search around for fifteen buck in his uniform. George dealt with the kids quickly, he took down their names, wrote up minor infraction cards, and sent them on their way.

“Hey Theseus!” Dream yelled. “If you’re still around I just want to talk. I won’t take you in. I’ll be on the other side of the roof if you want. Let’s set something up yeah?”

“No thanks!” Dream heard someone shout from off in the distance.

Dream and George shared a look. Then broke off in a sprint towards the voice.

“Oh shit! Bye guys!”

[ambiguousdisorderken]

christmas time.

what about dean and cas going christmas shopping together huh? what about cas buying stupidly cute plushies and board games for jack and dean saying how the kid's neither a toddler nor an actual kid blah blah so obviously dean ends up swiping his credit card to pay for an overpriced set of legos. it's star wars, okay? which does nothing to erase the smug look from cas’ face.

he also ends up paying for all the plushies and board games and tees (”seriously cas, spongebob?” to which cas flatly states “jack likes yellow”) and (fugly) sweaters and a pack of ridiculous reindeer antlers headbands. for fuck’s sake. is this the type of person dean is now?

then again, he could be doing worse.

on the way to the car, dean asks what cas wants for christmas, but cas only smiles and says there's no need for dean to trouble himself with that. dammit cas. 

"so what, opening boxes and tearing wrappers off, that’s just for jack?" he half jokes, hoping for cas to hint at whatever he may need or want for himself, anything. if cas can name it, dean can get it.

"well, he is our kid, dean. i believe it's common for parents to just sit and watch throughout the unwrapping process." cas states matter-of-factly. "isn't it?" he adds, maybe to get confirmation.

definitely to get some sort of response. not whatever dean is offering, which is... nada.

cas just stands there, nose reddened by the cold and hair wind-swept.

as if he hasn't flipped dean's world topsy-turvy with that one array of words. cas is, for all it matters, jack's father, no questions. and, objectively, dean knows jack is family as much as sam and cas are.

hell, dean feeds jack properly (he’s hitting the produce section more often these days) and watches crappy shows and cartoons because jack wants to (scooby-doo will outlive us all, bitch) and he even taught jack how to drive, the memory of which still shocks him to this day, trusting baby into the kid’s uneducated hands. as for jack, he’s called him ‘dad’ on occasions, and dean treasures deeply each and every one of them, but it’s not something he can brag about with the cashier at the local liquor store that also sells nougats or the one at the grocery shop that carries a specific brand of juice or the one at the 24/7 pharmacy on main where he went get cough drops when jack came down with a mundane yet nasty case of flu, okay. so maybe, if only a little, he really is going all paternal on the kid. sue him. but this... put in simpler words, viewed from cas' perspective? if cas is jack's father and jack calls dean his dad and –okay sammy is also raising the kid, but his family has never been nothing if a little dysfunctional, and the dude’s been spending an awful lot of time at eileen’s, whatever– then that means–

"dean, are you okay?" cas asks tilting his head a little, and it tugs something in dean’s heart. the gesture reminds him of jack. their goddamn child. the same one they're raising. together. and who’s the reason that, three days before christmas, he and cas went to multiple jam-packed stores at the frigging mall, that’s more than an hour and a half drive away from the bunker to buy a bunch of christmas presents.

fuck.

overcome the brain-freeze, dean realizes they're a family. and the word, his long-term security blanket for all emotional outpours, takes a whole ass new meaning.

a family.

they even have the damn cutesy dog.

dean stares at cas and eyes the excessive amount of shopping bags he's holding. he smiles, and cas mirrors it.

if dean was corny, he'd think of how the pale sky threatening to snow makes cas look angelic again, now that his grace has been lost to the empty. but dean's not a pathetic sap, so he settles for the thought of cas looking like a very human blessing, as well as the only gift dean will ever want, not only for christmas but for all the days he's got left to live on this earth. and in heaven. maybe for forever.

"'m okay" he finally replies with a smile stretching the words. "more than okay, cas."

cas nods, quiet contentment wrinkling the corners of his eyes.

definitely for forever.

on the way to the bunker– no, on the way home, they make a few stops to gather supplies for the unforgettable dinner that dean has in mind (pie trifecta is what's got him the most excited. it's pie!) and some shit to decorate too.

cas goes on merrily talking about their holiday plans and jack's childish enthusiasm for everything christmas related, which, in turn, makes cas look also childlike, and damn if that isn't making dean feel giddy too.

dean feels drunk, like he drank one too many cups of that frozen kiddie champagne they saw at the store with elsa smirking at the front of the label. he laughs at nothing, at everything. cas is right there with him, echoing the sheer self-indulgent joy that suffocates them.

he veers for one last stop. this is a sort of first for all of them, this type of christmas. it has a different, warmer, tone to it. safe and mushy and loving and all that. so what if he wants to get it right?

on the radio, mariah the-traitor carey, proclaims, in that 90s pop glitzy voice of hers, all i want for christmas is you.

as they pull in at the tree farm snowflakes begin to fall gently on the windshield. with the engine dead, the temperature has dropped low enough to have their breaths turn into misty clouds, yet dean is burning under the collar of his jacket.

fuck.

he's a grown-up man in his forties and he’s freaking out. except, he isn’t.

except he's in some sort of magic trance because right in this very second he feels – no, he is a teenage boy, sweating. breathing all but forgotten and reduced to a nervous wreck, a train wreck. scared shitless.

he's a boy in his car about to kiss his crush.

and just like a reckless teenager, he does. he kisses cas, not before getting a silent confirmation from cas' tentative yet hopeful gaze and chapped pink lips.

he doesn’t know how long they kiss, it could’ve gone on endlessly, with how smooth their lips glide against each other despite the stubble and with how cas comes up for air to hold dean’s face in both his hands, with how he speaks those same words he confessed not so long ago, this time with nothing but his devoted touch and his all too caring eyes. it could’ve gone on endlessly, but it slowed down once the windshield got covered in white and the sky turned from light blue to a silvery hue.

cas knows, he does. he’s always known. but dean’s done with truths left unspoken, and if he’s happy with what he’s got right now, then saying it will give him the golden ticket right into fucking paradise on earth. it should be difficult, but it’s not. it comes to him as easy as a lovefool’s sigh.

“i love you too, cas. i love you so much.”

this year they won’t only have a christmas, they will actually celebrate it. and no, dean won’t need the excuse of standing beneath the mistletoe to kiss cas – former angel of the lord, now father of his child– but he’ll be damned if he won’t do it anyway just to wring out a squeal of surprise from their kid. jack will be over the moon, dean’s sure of it.

he couldn’t be doing any better.

[fuck-customers]

I actually have a few Fuck Customers, and 1 Fuck Coworker stories.

The Fuck Coworker story:

The psychotic, hypocritical, Preacher's Wife I work with has been saying very racist things against the Asian community since the pandemic started. I finally snapped and said "The Coronavirus is no excuse to be racist." and "The Chinese have suffered enough." to her. She replied with "NO THEY HAVE NOT!". This woman is supposed to be a Christian! The Bible teaches "Love thy neighbor!" not "Be a racist bitch!". I reported her to the store director... But I'm not sure if he talked to her...

Now to the Fuck Customer stories:

1. At the beginning of all this insanity, I was taking an older gentleman's groceries out to his car. I commented "Woah! This is crazy!" and he WENT OFF ON ME. Literally saying "You stupid, punk, kids! You should be grateful that you've got a job!" and bitching for nearly 10 minutes about how I'm complaining about working. He even called my boss and told him that I was complaining about having to work. I had to explain to my boss what I actually said. I wanted to tell the customer "Which job, asshole? The one where I come to work and bust my ass during a pandemic that puts my health, and the health of my grandmother at risk? Or the one where I go home to and take care of my, aging, grandmother who has health issues ON TOP of the fact that BOTH of our immune systems are slightly compromised due to the depression caused by my mother's recent death?"

2. A few weeks ago, we changed hour hours to open at 8 a.m. I had just clocked in at 7. I'm standing there with the Preacher's Wife working on my morning check list when the Bread Guy goes to the door to go to his truck. He talks to someone outside and a minute later, an old woman comes in to the store. We ask her "Can we help you?". She asks "Can I just do my shopping for an hour?". We tell her no, that we're not open yet, and she goes back outside to wait. I wanted to look at her and go "Are you fucking kidding me? Do you not see the sign on the door that says we open at 8? That means WE OPEN AT 8! That precious hour I have before you bastards flood the store is meant for sanitation! Now, respect hour hours of operation and STAY THE FUCK OUTSIDE!".

3. A woman called the store before we opened to talk about the Curbside Service. No big deal, right? The office manager is the one on the phone with her. The woman explains that she doesn't have internet or a smart phone, so she wants us to take her list, rewards card and bank card, and do her shopping for her. The office manager asks the store director if we'd even be able to do that. He has her tell the woman that we don't have any spare employees that could do that. The woman flips out and yells at the office manager "IF I GET THE CORONAVIRUS, I'M SUING YOU!" before hanging up. The store director, Preacher's Wife, store trainer, and I are all standing there as this happens... We all got a good chuckle from that. Like, seriously? How the fuck do you think that will go down in court? I'll tell you, it won't. We're not responsible for your stupidity.

4. This last Sunday (on 04/19), we had a truck come in that actually had toilet paper. Not really a big deal, we knew it would sell fast... But, we also have a limit on paper products. That means, if you want toilet paper or paper towels (or whatever), you had better choose the 1 you want most, because that's all you're allowed to get. We have signs EVERYWHERE on that aisle. An old woman came in and had toilet paper, paper towels, napkins and tissues in her cart. Our Social Monitor was making her rounds, saw the woman and told her about the limit. This woman, literally, THREW A TANTRUM. She began throwing stuff onto the shelves, cussing out the Social Monitor, and yelling "HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO WIPE MY ASS?!". Without missing a beat, the Social Monitor tells her to pick the toilet paper. A couple of minutes later, she comes up to the register, still throwing a shit fit. She cusses out the cashier and throws her groceries back into her cart before I even have a chance to bag them. The transaction ends and I politely ask her "Would you like some help out with that?", to which she yells "NO!" and storms out of the store with her cart.

5. Just today (04/21), I had 2 old ladies make me want to vomit. Every day, the courtesy clerks are supposed to deep clean the restrooms at 7 am, 10:30 am, 1:30 am, and 5:30 pm. Because I'm a girl, it often takes me FOREVER to get the men's room done (because there's ALWAYS someone in there!)... But today, the ladies won the trophy for being gross. At the 7 am cleaning, an old woman came into the room before I could finish. She does her business, then goes straight for the door. I notice she's wearing gloves, but I still got grossed out. The least she could have done is wash her gloves before touching the handle that I had just cleaned. A few minutes later, I'm called to the front to sack a bit. I tell the cashier (the Preacher's Wife) about the woman and that she might want to wear gloves when dealing with her groceries because I can guarantee that she did not change her gloves after using the restroom. I straight up refuse to sack for the woman and walk off the front so I can go mop the restrooms. A few hours later, at the 1:30 cleaning, I'm working hard on the women's room again. Another old woman comes in, does her business, then goes straight for the door. This woman was NOT wearing gloves. This time, I was so grossed out, I literally yelled "REALLY? We're in the middle of a pandemic and you people still REFUSE to wash your hands?" as the door closed behind her. Of course, after both women did that, I sanitized the door at least 3 times each. You people are told day in, day out, to wash your fucking hands. There are signs on the mirrors that say something along the lines of "WASH YOUR HANDS like you've been handling jalapenos and you need to change your contact lenses!" with a picture of jalapenos on them! I understand teaching kids to do it. They're kids! They need to learn! WE SHOULD NOT HAVE TO REMIND ADULTS TO WASH THEIR HANDS!

And trust me, those are just the stories that stick out the most. I've got tons of others involving people trying to make this thing a religious and political thing... Including 1 old woman who told me "I'm ready to go to heaven!" with a straight face...

[highlifesupernova]

A Tale of Two Lockdowns

For the second time in what scarcely feels like a year and a half, I am bored in the house while a pandemic rules my country of residence.

This time, though, instead of my one-bedroom apartment in Seattle, I'm bored in a rented house in a remote area of New Zealand, where I'm temporarily living for work. We've been under level 4 lockdown, the country's strictest pandemic containment protocol, for two weeks, and Auckland is looking at two weeks more. This was a near-immediate snap reaction by the federal government to a single case of the delta variant of COVID-19 being detected in the country.

At surface level, this means many of the same things that "lockdown" and "quarantine" have come to mean in the US: gatherings, sporting events, in-person classes, and nonessential trips are canceled. Here, however, it also means no nonessential businesses are operating -- we have access to groceries, gas, the hospital, and local outdoor areas for exercise, but there is no other activity allowed. No takeaway, no liquor stores, no warehouse workers tirelessly dispatching the conveniences of modern life without taking pee breaks (I too was surprised to learn that man can quarantine without Postmates and gin, but I have lived to write this post). Construction has stopped. Offices are empty. I can count the number of cars I see traveling past my window each day on one hand.

Every day, the Prime Minister and Minister of Health address the public directly, providing updates on case numbers, the anticipated end date of the lockdown, the process for review, and information on testing and vaccines. Only data and plans are given a platform.

Like any pandemic-weary American might, I expected this process to feel familiar. We've been on a roller coaster of coronavirus cases for so long that the whiplash has rendered me numb to new lockdowns. It hasn't felt familiar in the least.

Perhaps most obviously, watching the New Zealand lockdown in action has highlighted just how deficient my home country's governmental reaction to the pandemic has been. Because of Prime Minster Ardern's straightforward updates, I've been hyper-aware of the community-spread case count in the country, which is currently hovering around 600. All of these can be tied back to a single case that managed to leak out of a quarantine facility for international returnees. While these 600 cases may pale in comparison to the hundreds of thousands of daily infections in the United States, I now see this small number as a large one; a single case that was rapidly contained indirectly caused 600 people to fall ill. It's not difficult to understand how. People implicated in the cluster of cases were going to school and work, having nights out, and going to casinos. To stop the spread, New Zealand simply stopped those activities. In the United States, we do them every single day, at a much larger scale, unchecked.

I've spent the last twenty minutes trying to find numbers on noncompliance and protest in New Zealand to support my anecdotal claim that nearly everyone seems to be willing to follow the rules, and I can't. Parliament is actively debating the lockdowns on the national equivalent of CSPAN and public dissent is certainly allowed, but unscientific rhetoric is not given a platform. If there are mass anti-mask protests happening in Auckland, I don't know about them, and I don't need to. I'm getting the information I need to inform my decision-making from data. Data speaks for itself. Coverage of this disease, itself an instrument of nature alone, has been so bereft of data in so much of the media I consume that this has come as an absurd surprise to me. Doomscroll-baiting with story after horrifying story of the antics of truth-averse malfeasants is not a productive way to report on a public emergency.

This all begs an oft-repeated question of this global mess: what the hell is wrong with the United States? There are, of course, practical differences between implementing an effective lockdown in relatively small New Zealand and the vast USA. It would be incredibly difficult and expensive for the US to match New Zealand's Managed Isolation and Quarantine program at scale, which places all travelers in a two-week isolated hotel stay upon arrival in the country. The power entrusted to states renders almost impossible a nationally unified approach to any given problem. Our legislature has been stuck in ideological gridlock for my entire life.

Are these excuses to let Americans die on ventilators, though? I don't think they are. New Zealand enacted new legislation to carry out their response, because unprecedented times call for unprecedented measures. In comparison, American legislators have played a juvenile game of keep-away with the lives of individuals. There's a legitimate argument to be made that the American economy might have suffered more with a stricter lockdown, but to this I pose the same response. Why didn't we use this as an opportunity to create an American economy that doesn't require the safety and sanity of our countrymen as collateral? New Zealand has managed to come up with a plan for a robust economic response to eliminate a choice between safety and staying afloat for businesses and workers. It seems like something the richest country in the world, which has been known to spend billions of dollars on military equipment only to literally burn it to the ground, should be able to pull off.

If there were ever an issue that demanded bipartisanship, one might think it'd be a life threatening disease that does not give a shit which letter is on your voter registration card. What started as some fear mongering for attention by our former president has ballooned into the right stoking every anti-science conspiracy theory they find in the dark corners of the internet to maintain their batshit following while the left desperately tries to appease the same batshit following to get them to take a vaccine.

Where New Zealand has worked to mandate responsible behavior, the United States has, at best, gently suggested it, and at worst, actively discouraged it. I concede that there is no way the United States could have curtailed the pandemic to the extent that New Zealand has, but we could have done something.

I've been contemplating the meaning of freedom in the context of this pandemic since my own stay in an MIQ facility upon my arrival in New Zealand in July. MIQ was not fun. I was confined to a hotel room alone for two weeks, delivered airplane-grade mystery meals, and occasionally allowed to go for a walk in the parking garage or to have a cotton swab stuck up my nose. If I were a very different sort of person, I could've engineered an escape out the window or made a scene in front of the New Zealand defense forces running the hotel. But I did my time, and so did all of my fellow travelers, because we knew that what awaited us on the other end was collective freedom. It was well worth a short period of personal inconvenience to keep what was at the time a very open country safe.

Beyond the failings of our government, the refusal of individual Americans to give up a single luxury in the face of this pandemic is a belligerent affront to our collective freedom. "Freedom" is constantly invoked as a reason to spurn calls for masking and social distancing, but the freedom of our communities to enjoy healthy, long lives is somehow never as important as one's individual right to not wear a piece of cloth to 7-Eleven. In this sense, although the coronavirus disaster in the United States can be in many ways concretely linked to the failure of a bloated government to act, it is also ultimately a failure of rugged individualism. The snake has begun to eat its own tail, and we're watching it happen.

I never felt truly free from March of 2020 until the day I stepped out of my MIQ facility and re-entered blissful, normal life in New Zealand. I don't feel less free in lockdown, because I know we're in it together. We could have this freedom too, if only we could embrace that our true freedom lies with one another.

[spicysoftsweet]

A Very Important Episode starring Hisoka

Or the one where Hisoka learns Bungee Gum is not a food group.

A/N: We all know that Hisoka likes candy and Bungee Gum but we would like to encourage Hisoka to make healthier choices and prevent diabetes complications. There will possibly be a part 2. I hope this is educational.

---

This time Hisoka had actually done it. He’d actually managed to fuck up his entire body beyond what he could repair with Bungee Gum or Machi’s services - which she was charging higher and higher for - and now he was somewhere almost unthinkable - an emergency room.

“Illumi~~~~” he half-sang, half-whined now that he was finally lucid, after undergoing an exploratory laparotomy to stabilize his profuse internal bleeding - the surgeons had been in awe of just how much of his body had been purely synthetic due to Texture Surprise exclaiming that he’d be an incredible case to write up - and being amped up full of pain meds. He probably didn’t need the pain meds, but it was fun to go in and out of consciousness; he couldn’t remember the last time he had an actual night of sleep.

His unwilling friend sat at the side of his hospital bed, legs crossed and focusing his jarringly large, black eyes at the fluid and blood that was being transfused into him by IV drip. A small part of him was surprised that Hisoka could be transfused with regular looking blood and regular looking fluid. He was almost sure that he was made up purely of nonsense and Bungee Gum.

“Illumi~” Hisoka moaned dramatically a second time. His gaze slid now to him, with lips pressed into a flat line of distaste.

“Don’t ever use my name as your emergency contact again.”

Illumi had to hide the fact that he was impressed Hisoka could spell clearly enough to make out the letters of his name and had actually retained his phone number. He had been surprised to get a call, but made his way over as soon as he had finished gutting an enemy and stringing them up for display as requested in his latest contract. The idea of Hisoka being dead was incredibly alarming, for he did enjoy his health and company, but also sparked a morbid curiosity in him. Could Hisoka actually die?

“But you came, didn’t you?” Hisoka teased, with a shit-eating grin.

He had him there.

There was a soft knocking on the door, and a young woman in a white coat, followed by a taller man wearing a pair of scrubs came in. The young woman glanced at Hisoka and then Illumi, visibly wincing at the hard stare of the latter in the semi-dark room, then raised her badge to introduce herself. 

“H-hello, I’m Dr. Rhgyl, I-” her eyes flickered to Illumi briefly, unsettled by the fact that he hadn’t yet blinked in the past two minutes, then shifted back to Hisoka, whose devilish smile was almost more unsettling. “I was one of your surgeons and am here to answer any questions you have.”

She turned to Illumi, and gave a nervous nod of the head. “And who is in the room with you, Mr. Morow?”

“My husband,” he said, in a sickly-sweet voice. Illumi gave him a glare, then crossed his arms.

“Sure,” was all he said.

Sure, what? What is sure? Just answer the damn question... The poor young doctor’s face fell as she already knew this was something she’d have to spend unnecessary minutes during her already excessively long call night clarifying in her documentation. She turned to her nurse behind her, who gave her a small shrug. 

“So uh, Mr. Morow, how is your pain?”

“It’s wonderful!”

The doctor again tried to conceal her internal screaming, and continued to keep her professional smile plastered on her face. “In that case, please let us know if you have any more pain, and your nurse will take care of it.”

“We do have one other issue, however, “ she added, making sure to communicate this next part as clearly and effectively as possible. Hisoka perked up in surprise, and Illumi continued to sit perfectly still, as still as a statue. “Your blood sugar. Your blood sugar was extremely elevated, and we were concerned about a diagnosis of prediabetes or diabetes.”

“Diabetes?”

“We expect you to make a fast recovery… surprisingly fast in fact, but we would still like you to follow up with a primary care doctor about your blood sugar. We’ll draw a lab test to check how your sugars were for the past 3 months, called a Hemoglobin A1c test, and then we’ll have your primary care doctor follow up the results and help you with strategies to have better control.”

Illumi turned to Hisoka, who he could tell that whatever the medical team was telling him was going in one ear and out the other, and he was now only thinking about either his next fight or Bungee Gum based on the elated smile on his face.

Bungee Gum.

Bungee Gum was the fucking problem. 

As the doctor and the nurse finally exited out of the room and Hisoka went back to telling Illumi battle stories, Illumi started to clear his schedule in his head, to figure out when he could best drag Hisoka to his follow-up appointments, which he would have to make for him. Someone had to be the adult in this relationship. 

---

Hisoka’s new primary care doctor, another similarly young woman, but less easily intimidated as the tired one from the hospital sat at a computer, pulling up his chart to review his lab results from his hospitalization.

Illumi and Hisoka noticed how she visibly paled as she scrolled, then turned to Hisoka and gave him a reassuring smile, that looked to reassure her more than them. 

“What is it? Am I dead?” Hisoka asked. Illumi gave him a look to quiet down.

“Well, you’re diabetic, all right... Your A1c is 14%.”

“Is that bad?”

She swiveled in her chair to face him, hands in her lap. 

“Well, diabetes is diagnosed at an A1c of 7%. So... unfortunately,  yes.”

Hisoka started counting on his fingers and Illumi forcefully put his hand down.

“Hisoka, listen to the doctor. Diabetes is serious. My great-grandaunt was diabetic.” Illumi said in an even, impassive voice.

“Oh, how old was she when she was diagnosed?” The doctor asked, attempting to build rapport with the patient and the patient’s loved ones.

Without skipping a beat, he replied, “206, exactly. She loved nothing more than to unwind with Mountain Dew after her assassination missions. She ended up on dialysis.” 

The doctor seemed to be at a loss of words briefly, so she turned back to Hisoka, pulling out a pen and a notepad to focus on rather than lose her cool. 

“So, uh… let’s start by talking a little about what you usually eat,” she began. “What do you eat in a typical day?”

“Hm... “ Hisoka didn’t usually keep track of what he ate, so it took him some time to come up with an account. “Ah! Okay, so in the morning, I usually skip breakfast, but sometimes I’ll have some Bungee Gum.”

Odd choice, the physician thought, but she nodded and wrote that down, allowing the floor to Hisoka to speak.

“For lunch, I try not to eat too much, but I also have a couple pieces or ten of Bungee Gum.”

Hm…

“Oh and for dinner, I have a bowl of gummy candy if I’m feeling particularly peckish and also Bungee Gum.”

She looked up from her pad and paper to see Hisoka looking blissfully unaware that he had just revealed that he subsists solely on sweets. She suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to pull at her hair repeatedly. This would be a ton of education, and she still wasn’t exactly sure what exactly Bungee Gum was.

---

Illumi parked his custom Ferrari minivan, purchased entirely for this shopping trip, outside the Costco Wholesale, and gave Hisoka, a long, hard look. 

“Do you have the list?” Illumi asked, hand outstretched as Hisoka handed over a partially crumpled sheet of paper, outlining the basics of a balanced, carbohydrate-controlled diet for people with diabetes.

Hisoka looked outside to the large building, then looked back at Illumi. “Isn’t this for families? I thought we were shopping for me only, and sometimes you when you come over.”

“I don’t know, the butlers told me that they come here to stock the kitchens. It seems from the website that this store provides high quality bulk goods for very competitive prices so this will be an appropriate next stop.”

This was just one out of countless stops today - Hisoka had spent the earlier part of the day searching frantically for sugar-free Bungee Gum in every supermarket in a 25-mile radius unsuccessfully, and demanding to see the manager every time, only to kill them when they told him they didn’t have his particular brand. Illumi warned him that there would be no such shenanigans any longer.

They stepped out of the car and walked right past the door greeter who was waiting eagerly for them to present their membership card only to recoil once they both turned to look at him in unison with intent to kill. 

The first things Hisoka noticed as he walked in were the multiple little free sample kiosks at the aisles every so often and curiously wandered over to them. 

“Make sure to avoid anything glazed or with a sauce,” Illumi called after him, poring through the list as he wandered over to the produce aisle. He didn’t understand the draw of free samples; if he wanted to try something, he would simply buy it.

Hisoka made his way to Illumi and Illumi’s overfilled grocery cart about a half-hour later after wandering the entire store, arms filled with small paper cups and tasting spoons. It was clear that he had sampled literally everything, possibly twice or thrice. Illumi let out a sigh and moved to the front of the store to check out. 

Keeping Hisoka’s blood sugar low would be a daunting task, but he was determined that by the next visit to his PCP, he’d have some improvement in his A1c. Texture Surprise can only replace so many amputated limbs at once. He’d just have to buy every supermarket’s supply of Bungee Gum and possibly halt every single production chain devoted to it or something similar. A pain, but it was worth it. Hisoka was annoying as all hell, but still, he was worth it.