#but yeah. guy who is suddenly drowning in media recs because he's made it really clear what he likes

[birdmenmanga]

I do think it's kind of like endearing and funny that I've spouted so much bullshit about how bm is some kind of socialism metaphor that I'm getting multiple friends recommending me different pieces of media based solely on its political commentary

[ifeveristoday]

Buffy Summers’s Diary (VIII)

Buffy Summers’s Diary VIII

Shout out to @gracenm for reccing this fic! I really appreciate that you comment on every diary entry. 😊

1 iced tea

1 not date

1 unexpected guest

38 days until I can go on my summer vacation

 There’s nothing to be done. I am clearly cursed and I should just retreat to the safety of a nunnery somewhere. Are there still nunneries around? Maybe I should check. Or an alpaca farm – they look cute and I could knit myself a sweater. To keep me cozy because I am not fit for human company, romantic or otherwise. That’s me, Buffy the social leper.

It wouldn’t have been so embarrassing if the beginning of the date, hangout was bad too – like Angel was late and we had a flat tire, or fires broke out on the promenade, something majorly inconvenient – but everything was fine. Angel arrived at my apartment exactly at twelve o’clock. I let him inside while I double checked that I turned off my stove.

‘This is nice,’ Angel said, looking around my apartment.

‘I know, it’s small,’ I tossed a blanket over the suddenly obvious wine stain on my couch. ‘Give me a second to put on my sneakers.’

‘No, I mean it – it feels comfortable. You get a lot of light here.’

‘That’s partly why I picked it – it’s really great in summer, all the sunlight streams into the living room. I just need to remember to draw the curtains at night.’

I slipped on my sneakers. ‘Okay. All ready – where are we going?’

Angel offered his arm. ‘It’s fairly close to my work – I eat there a lot.’

‘Sounds great. What’s the name?’

‘Caritas bar and grill.’

‘We’re going to a bar?’ I touched the crook of his arm carefully. I could smell the same cologne he used from the interview – it was a clean, kind of woodsy scent. Like the fresh air in a forest or something. ‘Are you going to be okay?’

‘They also serve non-alcoholic drinks, Buffy.’ Angel smiled. ‘And I’m on my lunch break – so it’s not really wine o’clock.’

‘Oh, right. I mean – I know you wouldn’t drink anyway,’ I could feel myself start to babble. My face started to heat up.

‘They actually have really good coffee. And I know what you meant. The temptation is there, but I’ve gotten better at ignoring it.’

‘How long have you been sober? Is that okay to ask?’

‘Yeah. It’s been seven years.’

He squeezed my hand as I let go of his arm so I could lock my door.

There was a slight shock. I jumped. ‘Sorry! Static – I knew I should have used more fabric softener.’

‘It’s okay, Buffy.’ There was a definite laughing tone in his voice – I looked at him, but Angel’s poker face was legendary for a reason.

‘So, what’s new with you?’

He led me to his car, a sleek black bullet of a machine and I stared at it for a minute. ‘Are you Batman, Angel?’

This time he really did laugh. ‘I’d be making a lot more money if I was.’

  So I survived small talk while Angel drove us to Caritas. We talked about work – he liked his job and looking up obscure laws to cite precedence for his briefs, I told him about Young Media pivoting more to video and growing our social media, which meant I had to make a twitter and Instagram account. Which meant I had to block a lot of troll accounts who kept on sliding into my DMs with filthy pictures.

‘I’m glad I’m not on social media,’ Angel said after I told him the latest entry into my ban hall of fame. ‘Email is about as technical as I’m willing to get.’

‘It has its uses,’ I shrug. ‘Mostly for porn and cat pictures.’

‘Well,’ Angel said after a long pause. ‘We’re here.’

He got out and opened my door while I was clicking my seatbelt free. Then my brain helpfully reminded me that I had mentioned porn and cat pictures in the same breath to Angel, and I froze.

‘Buffy? What’s wrong?’

 ‘I forgot how easy it was to talk to you. And that I usually said stupid stuff.’

‘You didn’t say anything stupid.’ Angel clicked his key fob and his batmobile beeped. ‘And I like that you’re comfortable with me.’

‘Oh,’ I said.

‘I missed being friends with you,’ he said softly. ‘It was chance that I saw you at your mother’s party.’

‘And I brought up Darla. I’m really sorry about that, by the way.’

‘You didn’t know. I overreacted.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Where do you want to sit? At the bar or outside on the patio?’

  Caritas was the coolest bar/grill/lounge I’ve been to in a long time. The owner, Lorne, happened to be one of Angel’s oldest friends. He comped my iced tea (nonalcoholic), Angel’s coffee, and our appetizers (mini tacos and pulled pork sliders). A small mountain of sliders appeared in front of Angel and he pushed the platter at me. ‘Lorne’s generosity at work again. Have some, please.’

‘Are you sure? I have my tacos.’

‘I’m sure. I’m surprised Lorne didn’t drown you in tacos too.’

‘I think he has a crush on you,’ I grinned and reached for a slider. ‘He’s been looking over at us the entire time.’

Angel glanced over at the host podium. Lorne’s dark green head swiveled the other way. ‘Huh,’ he said.

‘What, no man has ever hit on you before?’ I teased. I bit into the slider and I couldn’t help the small moan that escaped my mouth. ‘This is really good,’ I mumbled.

Angel’s gaze flickered to my lips. ‘Do I have sauce?’

He touched the corner of my mouth. ‘Just a little here.’ He wiped it off with his thumb, and then sat back in his chair.

‘It’s not that. It’s that we’re friends. Lorne flirts with everyone.’

‘He didn’t flirt with me,’ I pointed out.

Angel raised an eyebrow. ‘Do you want to be flirted with?’

‘Well, it’s not necessary, and it wouldn’t be real anyway. But it’s nice sometimes. I mean I know he’s gay, so it really doesn’t mean anything –’

‘Lorne’s not gay,’ Angel interrupted. ‘He’s pan -pansexual, he said. Something about falling in love with someone’s aura, not their gender.’

‘Oh. That’s lovely.’ I finished another slider and dabbed at my lips. ‘It’s poetic, even.’

‘Yeah. He’s a really good judge of character. Do you want more?’

The platter was empty, a smear of barbecue sauce the only evidence left behind.

‘I didn’t realize I was that hungry,’ I mumbled. ‘Sorry about that.’

‘Don’t be. They were delicious.’ Angel opened the menu again. ‘Do you mind if I order for us?’

‘You’re the expert – order away.’

That’s when the curse struck. I was lulled into a false sense of security and also halfway through a plate of butterfly shrimp and wedge salad when an exasperated voice jolted me out of my food coma. ‘Angel! There you are. Honey, I called you a million times. Did you forget our date?’

I knew that voice. It was a voice that had a black credit card and stiletto office shoes which were totally different from her going home stilettos.

I looked up. Cordelia’s immaculately made-up face met my gaze. She snorted. ‘Really? Her? Angel, when you said old friend, I didn’t know you meant Buffy Summers.’

‘You know Angel?’ I said just as he said, ‘Cordy, now is not the time.’

‘It is so the time,’ Cordelia said. ‘You told me if I didn’t hear from you at our agreed time, I was going to come and save you from the terrible date.’

‘This was a date?’ I said as Angel’s face went white. ‘Buffy – it’s not what you think –‘

‘You know her? Did you also know I work with her? Was this a joke you guys set up?’ I stood up.

‘Please, like I think about you after hours,’ Cordelia sniffed. ‘Angel, come on. I shuffled my appointment with Claudio, he can still fit me in if we leave right now.’

I didn’t bother to stick around to hear what excuse Angel gave. I just picked up my purse and ran out of there.

 My phone kept on ringing until I turned it off. Lorne might have shouted after me, but I didn’t hear what he said.

 Like I said, cursed.

I didn’t know I wanted it to be a date until Cordelia thoroughly squashed that idea underneath her pointy heel.

I thought we were on equal footing finally – we were both single and generally had our lives together – okay, maybe he was more put together than I was. But I was okay – work was fine, and aside from random gross intervals from strangers, I was enjoying interacting with people on social media. I felt like my old self – before all the pressure and the lying and control issues took over. Like I was seventeen again – but actually better.

 Obviously, that wasn’t meant to last. Goodbye with-it Buffy. Hello, sister of our perpetual Alpaca, can I set you up with a sweater? I am cursed and I deserve ice cream.

 The pounding on my door roused me from my chocolate mint chip sponsored stupor on my couch. ‘What,’ I grumped loudly.

‘Open the door, stupid!’

I sat up. ‘Dawnie?’

‘Yes. Open the door, my arms are about to break off.’

I walked over and peered through the peephole. My sister’s annoyed face looked back at me. She was surrounded by various suitcases.

I opened the door.

‘Did you forget to charge your phone or something? I’ve been calling you for the past four hours.’

‘What is all this?’ I waved my hand at her luggage.

She pulled the handle of her largest suitcase and pushed past me. ‘Duh, I’m moving in. Be careful with the purple bag, it’s got all my makeup in it.’

‘When did I agree to that? What happened with Dad?’ I picked up the purple duffel and nearly fell over. ‘Do you have an iron in here?’

Dawn’s voice floated out of my bedroom. ‘If you answered your phone like a normal person, you would know why I’m here.’

‘I turned it off.’ I dragged the rest of her luggage inside.

‘Okay, well – it’s a long story.’

‘So tell me, since apparently, you’re living here now. Couldn’t you stay with Janice?’

Dawn frowned. ‘Janice is going to grad school in Sacramento. I’m not moving to Sacramento.’

‘Wow. Good for Janice.’

‘Yeah it’s great.’ Dawn moved into my kitchen and started opening cabinets. ‘Where do you keep your glasses? I need a drink.’

‘No you don’t,’ I said on autopilot. Dawn scowled at me. ‘I’ve been legal to drink for three years now.’

‘Fine. That one. But I don’t have any alcohol in the house. It’s juice, water, or milk.’

‘Ugh, you’re boring.’ Dawn opened the refrigerator. ‘I’m here because Dad’s new girlfriend moved in, and there’s no way I’m living with that.’

‘Oh god. How old is this one?’ I sank into a chair.

‘Twenty seven,’ Dawn announced.

‘Wow. Only two years younger than me this time,’ I said.

‘Yes, she’s practically an adult,’ Dawn muttered. ‘I’m not here for the Hank and Shelly show.’

‘Her name is Shelly?’

‘No, it’s Michelle, but she prefers to be called Shelly.’

Dawn emerged with a carton of orange juice. ‘Dad swears that she’s the one.’

‘Like all the other ones. Got it.’

‘I’d have moved out sooner except all the nice places I wanted were way out of my price range and I didn’t want to have roommates.’

‘So you came to me.’

‘I’ve lived with you before. Sometimes.’

‘Uh huh. Well – I did say you could come over anytime.’

‘You didn’t, but I appreciate you lying to save my feelings.’ Dawn poured us both a glass of juice. ‘Do you know you have a huge barbecue stain on your dress?’

‘Damn it. It’s the curse.’ 

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