#plants of san jose

[thebashfulbotanist]

Epidendrum lacustre is an interesting species of Central and South American orchid. It's found in the mountains at elevations of 1,200 to 2,500 meters. It's typically found growing on trees or rocks (as an epiphyte or lithophyte), although I found this one growing on the ground beneath a wind turbine. The scientific name gives it the common name "lake orchid", and refers to the fact that the type was found on a half-submerged log. They do tend to prefer wet, cloud forest environments, although this one was nowhere near a lake.

[theemporium]

so like. do you think macklin is trying to use luke as an in to get a lakehouse invite so he can meet his favourite canuck, quinn hughes? because that’s so valid of him

[cyclamenflower]

The way home on the train

[harukagp]

Today my husband has gone to New York for his business, I had plenty time to go out during the day by myself. (Doesn’t mean he bothers me lol 😂)

I paid a visit to Santana Row in Silicon Valley finally.

In the morning the street was quiet, as soon as when the mall came out to the sight it drastically got busier.

The mall was massive and was beautiful. It’s one of the most beautiful and clean buildings I’ve ever went to in North America.

So many botanicals and lights.

Came back with nothing, but then my Zen mode activated and did cross stitch quite a while.

Wondering what to do with the empty space above those canvas… more plants ?

[jackiesunshines]

SORRY, I'M SO STUPID | S.LOHMANN¹²

summary: you're an idiot who lost the love of your life. somehow, you get her back.

contains: sydney lohmann x bayfcplayer.ᐟreader, exes to lovers, mentions of relationship insecurities, sorta messy timeline, mentions of concussion/injury, jealousy, jealous.ᐟreader, sydney got the patience of a saint, they're inlove your honor, some angst with fluff

word count: 6.0k

author note: first fic on this blog, hopefully you cool ppl in my phone like it. lil warning for the fic going from past tense to present tense alot, that's the point. i tried a slightly different writing style doing this so let's hope it eats. enough yapping, enjoy ❤️ p.s. this is a lyrics fic.

PLAYING THINGS I WISH YOU SAID BY SABRINA CARPENTER

baby, sorry, i left you in the dark. i always reach for your leg over there on your side of the car

you are really fucking stupid. at least, that's what you have been telling yourself for the past two months.

you're in your car, on your way to deyna's party. of course, san jose traffic is packed and going at snail speed, leaving you with time to think many thoughts. way too many thoughts.

thoughts that are mainly involving a pretty, german blonde who used to be yours at one point. she would still be yours right now if you didn't end things impulsively.

what did your parents say when you were a teenager about how social media is poison? you are slowly starting to agree because you let opinions circulating around social media and your insecurities end a good thing. now the one person you didn't want to hurt in this life is hurt and you're hurting alongside her.

you almost want to forget about her, but who could forget about sydney?

that's why when you change lanes to reach your exit on the highway, your hand automatically goes to the passenger seat to reach for a thigh that isn't there.

right. she's in germany, not here.

you're so fucking stupid.

baby, everything reminds me of you. nobody gets my jokes, everyone here thinks i'm fucking rude

being at practice reminds you so much of sydney. it makes sense, you both are professional players. so of course your day is riddled with memories of sydney.

arriving at the training facility reminds you of that time sydney told you she tripped coming into bayern's training building, and she was teased for days.

going through drills has you thinking about when sydney whined on the phone everyday about her legs and feet hurting after practice.

time in the gym, doing your cardio is not that different from the days where sydney and you would workout out together. getting a sweet treat right afterward.

so, by the time training is over, you are ready to get dressed quickly in the locker room and duck out to go drown in your self-pity and regret at home. it's too bad that even the locker room reminds you of sydney or the lack thereof.

“why are you changing so fast? trying to run away from those bad shots you made?” jen jokes, coming to sit by you at your cubby.

you look at her, your hands still occupied tying your shoe. “you cannot be talking after the amount of times you fell. your age catching up to you?” you say in a similar joking tone with a side of deadpan,

or so you thought as everyone looks at you like you're crazy.

“i was just playing around, chill,” jen says. her words confuse you and so does the reactions of your other teammates.

did your joke have venom that you were unaware of behind it? or did you say it more on the side of deadpan than joking?

all you know is that sydney would have laughed at that. she would be giggling so hard, her face would get all red. then she would have thrown an even better insult right back at you.

you really miss her.

when i saw you cry, i didn't handle it well. without you here, i don’t know what to do with myself.

your nights have been so boring ever since you broke up with sydney. the same routine: get home, shower, water the plants, eat dinner, and then spend an hour or two scrolling on social media trying to fight the urge to stalk sydney's page.

you had blocked the blonde back when you two first broke up. you remember how klara texted you about how that's “childish and just hurts you both more.” she's right, of course, but who's going to tell her that? not you. not after you made a whole big deal about moving on and focusing on your career.

moving on doesn't even seem right. that's for people who were heartbroken by chance, not on purpose. it's not for people who hurt themselves by ending something that was good and stable because they couldn't get out of their own head.

still, as you lay there and scroll, your entire being craves for what used to belong to it.

you desire sydney's warmth.

you miss sydney's scent.

you are hungry for sydney's kisses.

you need to be held down by the weight of her body on top of yours.

instead, you are being weighed down by the pain you inflicted upon her. haunted by the sight of tears filling up in her eyes the day you ended everything and walked away. the unanswered text messages she left you the following night after she got drunk. the single text that followed the morning after that,

those were mistakes. ignore them.

everything blares in your head like an alarm that never stops. a clock that is broken, but not because it doesn't sound off but because it continues to sound off even if you want it to stop. there is no snooze for your regret, not with the way your dreams are filled to the brim with thoughts of sydney, too.

i think about these things at night before i fall asleep. things i wish you said to me.

syd's barely affectionate with her.

they don't give off girlfriends vibes.

sydney is more cuddly with her friends than her own girlfriend.

wonder when they are going to break up.

it's not going to last.

you reread the comments that led to your self inflicted suffering in the first place. the noodles in front of you on the table have run cold and your appetite is halfway gone at this point anyways.

social media has never been a big part of how you move throughout the world. you love to doomscroll, and of course, you have your favorite creators across platforms. you know about different trends and internet slang. duh, you aren't thirty. but you never used to let social media dictate how you interact with people outside of it. social media is full of algorithms and echo-chambers made to take over people's thoughts. forcing them to stay on apps longer than needed to look for solutions for problems that have been caused by said apps.

that's always how you felt.

but even you fell into the trap of social media. early in your relationship with sydney, you were too in the honeymoon phase to think about looking at socials. too wrapped up in sydney. however, when you two calmed down into a just as in love but more controlled state, your mind started wandering.

wondering what people are saying about you two. do they find you two cute? couple goals? were there fanpages for your relationship?

other players who are in relationships often have these things, so why wouldn't you guys have those as well?

what you didn't expect to find was people overanalyzing the way sydney and you interacted in public. for people to wonder if you guys are even in love.

“they don't see me when i'm with you. they don't know how attached i am to you every second we are alone,” sydney said when you brought up your growing insecurity. she was smiling all sweet, sitting on top of you.

how could you not believe her with the way she's kissing the frown off your lips?

your insecurities still grew and grew and grew until they became a hill. a hill, you weren't able to climb over.

they don't know how sydney loves wearing your clothes around and outside of the house because she's obsessed with your smell. they don't know about all the nights she cuddled into your side, basically glued to your skin. they aren't there on the days you were in sydney's apartment, cooking and dancing with her. they don't see the way she is all over you when you two are alone.

yeah, she wasn't super affectionate in public but that's only because she got so shy every time you showed her any love.

fans online didn't know about any of that, but you wish they did. you wish you didn't put so much value into their opinions because you probably would still have sydney in your grasp right now if you didn't.

if only you came to sydney about this more. the german player would rush to do anything that would make you feel better, more secure. but no, you just couldn't because you were afraid she would be annoyed you kept bringing the topic up after she reassured you the first time.

sydney would have never done that and you knew that.

that wrongful thought was influenced by that stupid hill in your head that was built on tons and tons of mean comments. the weariness of long distance fueled the comments impact on your mind deeply. getting reassured over the phone wouldn't be as satisfying as in person, so you never brought up the topic again and everytime you were with sydney, you didn't want to ruin the moment so again you didn't say a word. all of this created a hamster wheel you couldn't get out of.

you get up from the table, throwing your noodles away. they are too cool to eat now, and reheated noodles do not sound appetizing.

slipping into bed, your mind thinks back to the past over and over again until it tires itself out enough that you drift off to sleep.

things like “darling, i hope you know it scared me to death. the night that your sister said you got into an accident.”

number that SHOULD be blocked

i'm so sorry about your injury

when i saw you go down, my heart fell to my ass

i hope you have good ppl around you to take care of you ❤️

contact changed to sydney

you

i do

thanks for texting

sydney

….

yk i'm here for you too, right?

ik we broke up and aren't supposed to talk but

i'm just rlly worried about you

your heart feels like it's beating at 100 miles per hour. first, sydney texts you then second, she's worried about your injury and third, she wants to fucking be there for you.

is this a dream? have your wishes to get her back finally come true?

you look at the text, pondering what to send back. an immediate yes would be too desperate, right? but you are desperate for her you think to yourself.

fuck it, just say yes.

right when you are about to text back, sydney beats you to it.

sydney

there's no pressure

i know we haven't talked in forever

how is she being so considerate when you're the one who broke her heart?

you

i want you

sydney

??

you

i mean i want you to be there for me

can we talk pls?

be friends or whatever you want

sydney

duh

i'm the one who offered

there go the other side of sydney that you know and love.

“and god, i, i'm watching everything that you do. i can't get your songs out of my head or your hair out of my room.”

sydney and you have been texting back and forth everyday since that day she texted you. anyone looking from outside the situation would said it's heading straight for disaster. exes texting regularly again? especially when one is still very much inlove with the other? a speeding train just waiting to crash.

to that, you would say they don't understand. there isn't no tension or lingering resentment or anger between sydney and you while yall talk. that truth surprises you considering the fact you basically dumped sydney four months ago. if the roles were reversed, you wouldn't want to see her ever again, but somehow sydney's heart is overflowing with so much love that she doesn't have room to hate you.

she checks up on your well-being pertaining to your head injury. the recovery so far has been slow, very slow. you aren't even in rehab yet, still stuck at home resting and sleeping throughout the day. thankfully, your parents flew to san jose to come take care of you.

when you aren't sleeping, then you are texting sydney. her check-ups on you have slowly turned into long conversations about her day. texting her almost makes you feel like you two never broke up, that you two are still dating.

when you can't talk to her or are unable to sleep, you keep up to date with bayern munich. if someone asked why you were watching them, you would say not only for sydney, but that would be a lie. just a little white lie, though. you're watching for klara, lea, and lena too.. but mostly for sydney.

seeing her in her element, all sweaty and passionate, makes your head feel a little less broken, so yes, you will continue to watch her matches without telling her.

and what you don't know is that sydney thinks of you every time her feet touch the pitch. how she goes even harder than normal to impress you just in case you are watching. she hopes you are watching her, she always has and always will. even right after you broke up with her and she had to push her feelings down to go put on a good performance for germany, she played so hard she was MVP of both friendlies. back then, sydney hoped you viewed her performances with envy. with deep regret for letting go of a woman like her. now she hopes you look at her in admiration when she plays well.

you also don't know that sydney never threw away any of the gifts you gave her during your relationship. she was supposed to throw everything away in a box like lea recommended, but she couldn't. she couldn't throw away all of the memories she had left of you in her home. she couldn't delete the pictures she had of you in her phone. she couldn't even block your number.

sydney hanged onto every single last string she had that was still connected to you. it's hard to let go after being dumped. she thought, no, she knew you were the love of life. her entire world came crashing down when you sat her down on the last day of you visiting her in germany, suddenly saying you believe you two should be over. that long distance isn't working out for you anymore.

she cried for a week after you left. klara had to come over and help her clean up her apartment after a week of just crying in bed.

after that, the blonde slowly tried to move on. she went out more, with and without her friends. posted more on instagram. pushed herself into drowning in work related to football. even all of that didn't help her forget about you. she couldn't. her soul still yearned for yours.

she watched your matches in secret, all of her attention focused on you. her heart rate would perk up whenever commentators said your name. she wasn't able to pull her attention away from her tv when the camera would do a close-up of you.

so obviously, the day you got injured, sydney knew. she saw the way you went down and didn't get back up. her blood was rushing to her head, her chest was hurting as she watched you get carried off. it nearly felt like she was the one injured with how her body was feeling.

could sydney be faulted for texting you? for worrying about you? klara would slap the phone out of her hand if she knew about this, but good thing klara wasn't in her apartment. going off straight adrenaline and concern, sydney sent that text that led to you being back in her life.

texting back and forth everyday has sydney dopamine hooked. you still have the same effect on her that you always have.

every time she texts you, her eyes glance around her room at the various things you left behind when you broke up with her.

the sweater you never asked for back.

the dragon stuffed animal she won for you at a carnival.

the brush you always used when you came over. she couldn't bring herself to use it after you left her, so it just sat on her vanity, taunting her for ages.

sydney told herself that when she texted you about your injury, you two would keep a certain level of distance. that you wouldn't become lovers again. that she was only checking up on you every day because you deserved people in your corner.

that last part is true, but her other motive is also there: she wants you back.

i saw you meet somebody, and i'm jealous as hell. that i can't even stomach loving someone else.

the texting between sydney and you have gone from texting to calling. a big leap, but you both admitted to liking calling more than anything else.

the calling is totally not an indication of falling back into a similar routine from before the break-up.

or maybe it is because you don't fall asleep on the phone with your friends, you don't text your friends good morning and good night, you don't send so many selfies of yourself to your friends. those are actions you always have done with sydney.

anyone could see that you two still like each other, obviously, but you are seemingly blind to it.

perhaps it's the regret, pity, and guilt for ruining a good thing for no reason that's keeping you ignorant of what's growing between you two once more.

that ignorance wouldn't last forever.

sydney and you have now been in contact again for five months, more than no-contact lasted. your recovery is coming along better than your doctors expected. your head doesn't feel heavy anymore and you can have the tv above sixty without your head feeling like it's going to explode. sydney was more happy about this progress than you were.

syd 🥺

just watch

in a few months you're going to be able to run and play again

you

my doctors said that's not happening so soon

syd 🥺

idcc

you're like half magical so you will recover soon

you

LMAOOO

half magical is insane

you're crazy

syd 🥺

crazy or optimistic?

you

both…

syd 🥺

WOW??

okay i see how it is

say this to my face

incoming call from syd 🥺

after you answer the call, sydney and you talk for three hours. bickering back and forth with a mix of talking about your days. of course, your day is the same as always. you slept, ate, crocheted a bit with your mother, and saw your doctor. meanwhile, sydney's was full of life per usual. she went grocery shopping, helped lea clean out her spare room, got some sweets from a bakery, and “saw the cutest dog while walking home” in her own words. hearing about her lively days makes you feel a bit better about your own days that are very simple and very boring nine times out of ten. there isn't much a person recovering from a concussion can do.

you could push away and ignore your feelings when you two were in just a bubble of you and sydney. nobody else is in the way, questioning if exes talking everyday was healthy. nobody wondering if all that contact would lead to something more.

that bubble is broken the day you see something that makes you feel sick.

it's a saturday, you're scrolling on instagram. sydney is busy at a gathering with some friends, leaving you to your own devices.

sorta already missing her, you go on her instagram to look at her posts. you had unblocked the moment you two started talking again. as you click on her story, you wish you still had her blocked.

your head feels like it's going to explode as you look at the photo: sydney is sitting on a couch, and some girl is on her lap, smiling way too hard.

what the hell was going on?

you almost type out a message to sydney before you get control of your emotions. it isn't your place to be jealous or hurt or annoyed. sydney and you aren't together anymore. you two are friends, only friends right now.

you feel sick as you swipe out of instagram. it's time for a nap before your head falls off of your body with the way it pounds.

seeing sydney with someone else is making you stop believing the lie that you two were platonic right now. you could never be friends with the woman you love.

i think about these things at night before i fall asleep. things i wish you said to me.

that instagram story sets off a series of events.

first, you slowly took a step back from talking to sydney. the step back was so slow that she didn't notice at first. honestly, you took two more months to not talk to her everyday because you were hooked on her messages. hooked on her jokes and selfies and laugh and cute rambles. still, you somehow did it. instead of talking everyday, you two talked three days a week and only for an hour. way less than you two used to do.

second, you started putting tons of work into your recovery. seeing a physical therapist and slowly incorporating small, easy exercises into your day helps you come closer to getting back on the pitch. the first day you step back onto the bay fc training facility grounds, your emotions are everywhere. you haven't seen your teammates as much as you use to when you were not injured and seeing them training while you were just visiting the physical therapist killed you. they were all happy to see you though, catching you up on everything that has been happening since you were away. your head injury has calmed down enough that you could sit outside and watch everyone else practice. all the shouting and sounds of bodies moving doesn't irritate your head thankfully. you follow this similar routine for a long while, even if you are slightly sad about not being able to play.

and finally, sydney confronts you about pushing her out of your life.

you're lying on your bed, having just came back from a day at the bay fc training facility. you and sydney haven't talked for a week straight, her apparently busy with her life over in germany and you making an active choice to talk to her less.

that's why when a notification from her comes up on your screen, you look away from your screen then back at it to see if this is happening right now. it's not the notification itself that makes you act like that, but the message,

sydney (wait 30 mins before answering)

why are you treating me like this again?

you

sydney

what are you talking about?

sydney (wait 30 mins before answering)

you're ignoring me

we barely talk anymore

what's gotten into you?

you try to think up an excuse. eventually landing on,

you

yk i'm busy with rehab and stuff

sydney (wait 30 mins before answering)

bullshit

stop lying to me

you

calm down syd

omg

sydney (wait 30 mins before answering)

don't tell me to calm down wtf

first you randomly break up with me for some stupid reason

“long distance isn't working” whatever that supposed to mean

i just know in my gut that's not why you left me

now we became close again and you're leaving me again?

why let me back in your life if you're going to do this to me

your head is starting to pound as blood rushes to your face. you always hated when sydney was angry with you and this time is no different. it's justified though. what you're doing is really cruel, pushing sydney away after becoming close with her again. you have hurt her once again.

you're so stupid.

in the process of trying to run from your feelings, trying to ignore the jealousy seeping from your psyche after seeing the photo of that random girl on her lap in that photo. lost in your thoughts, you don't realize that it's been ten minutes since you replied to her.

sydney (wait 30 mins before answering)

okay

do what you want

march 14th, 11:11pm, read

ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

“i don't know how to say this.. but you deserve an explanation. you wouldn't answer my calls or texts, and i get it. i left you not once but twice. both times for stupid reasons that i should have communicated instead of going ghost. the day i broke up with you.. i cried the moment i got home. all i could think about for so long is how hurt you looked. that should have made me act, but it didn't, and i just regret everything. the first time i pushed you away, it's because i let the internet get to me. make me feel all insecure about us. i pushed you away a second time because i realized i couldn't stay platonic with you. i.. saw that insta story of yours. the one with that girl on your lap. i lost my mind because i thought i didn't have a chance with you ever again. i'm really sorry, so sorry. i miss you so much. call me back, please?”

voicemail left to sydney, april 23rd, 3:00am

sorry, i pulled the “it's not you. it's me.” one day, i'll make sure you get a real apology.

sydney

are you busy?

she texts you one day in july. you thought that she was fully done with you after not speaking for nearly two months, but thankfully she isn't. you can make this right.

you

no

incoming call from sydney

…

“hello?”

you haven't heard her voice in so long. it sounds just the same, all soft and pretty. a rush of fondness hits you.

“hi sydney,” you say, more like whisper, into the phone.

there's some shuffling on the other line before she speaks again. was she moving around on her bed? it's a nervous habit of hers to move during intense situations you think to yourself.

you push your thoughts to the side as sydney speaks, “.. i got your voicemail.”

you thought she deleted it with how long it has been since you had sent it.

“did you like it?” you say.

why the fuck did you say that?

instead of hanging up the phone in your face, sydney laughs. you have missed her laugh so much.

“i wouldn't be calling if i didn't.”

“oh right.. sorry.” you let out a laugh of your own at your stupidity. not just your stupidity from right now but all the times before, too.

then the moment you start laughing, that makes sydney start laughing again. creating a cycle of you laughing at her laughter, then her laughing at yours and again. laughing on the phone with your ex after not speaking for some months once again is actually insane, but it seems like that's just how sydney and you are: insane.

the two of you calm down soon enough. getting back to the serious conversation that needs to be had.

“you know it really hurt me when you stopped talking to me. i thought we were getting somewhere.. platonic or not. it hurts even more to know you still like me but pushed me away anyways. don't you want me?”

“of course i want you.”

“then why didn't you say anything?”

“....”

“that was a stupid question.. i listened to your voicemail. i know why.. i just want to hear it from your own mouth in real time.”

you sigh before going silent for a moment. sydney doesn't speak, she just waits.

“i just.. was so insecure the longer we were together. i know at the time you told me to ignore social media, but i couldn't. all of those people were saying we shouldn't be together and that you didn't want me. i couldn't take it. i felt like i was holding you back from someone better, so i left. then when we started talking again, i deluded myself into believing we were on our way to being just platonic but i can never be just friends with you. the night i saw that photo on your insta story, i didn't know what to do.. so i left again. i'm sorry.”

“.. i accept your apology, but i'm still hurt. i thought you trusted me enough to talk to me about anything?”

“i do.. i did.. i swear.”

“you don't act like it.”

“i'll be better if you let me. if you want me.”

“i want you, but you'll have to work for it. i'm not taking you back that easily.”

i waste my time, i waste my life on idiotic things. like things you never said. things you'll never say to me.

sydney and you start talking again after that call. things between you two move slow though, very slow. more slow than the first time you guys got together.

you know that sydney is waiting things out, trying to see if you would leave her again. she keeps a certain distance when you two speak a little too flirty. she shuts it down quickly every time, which hurts, but you get it. you have to earn that side of her again.

and you do just that.

it's in small ways than some grand gesture. you tell about everytime you watch one of her matches, mostly praising her but throwing in some critique as well. after your rehab sessions, you tell her about everything. all your feelings surrounding the sessions, how much you've been improving. everytime you feel jealousy at one of sydney's posts, you talk to her about it.

that distance between you two slowly closes. not only emotionally but physically.

the summer the year after sydney and you reconnected for the second time since the break-up, you find the time to fly to germany for her birthday.

you asked before coming, though, not wanting to mess up the new connection you two are building.

“syd, i got a question,” you say, phone propped up on the bathroom sink as you got ready for another day at training. you have progressed very far in your recovery, thankfully, and can now do some light training with the team.

“hmmmmm?” sydney murmurs. she's looking all cute on the other line, face pressed to her pillow as she lays in bed. her room is dark, with the only light coming from her phone screen.

there's some hesitation that crosses your mind, but you push it away. communication, remember?

“can i come see you?” you ask.

sydney sits up slightly after hearing your question. there's clear confusion on her face.

“what do you mean?”

“i want to fly to germany for your birthday.”

sydney goes silent for a long moment. your nerves peak, looking at your screen. was this too big of a step for her? does she need more time to be ready to see you in person?

her answer surprises you.

“okay,” she says.

you booked your flight to germany that night and next thing you know, you're there. unfortunately, sydney isn't the one who picks you up from the airport. lena takes over that job, but it's still fun to hangout with lena after so long.

you don't see sydney until the day of her birthday. she claims she's been busy and you believe her. she texts you all the time even if she doesn't come see you physically.

your mind runs wild as you get ready for sydney's birthday party. you're in lena’s bathroom, making sure your hair looks perfect and your makeup doesn't make you look clown-ish and that your fit actually fits you and maybe you should brush your teeth again-

“you know sydney doesn't hate you, right?” lena interrupts your anxious thoughts.

“duh i know. i wouldn't be here if she did,” you say, still staring intensely at your appearance through the mirror.

lena rolls her eyes. “then why are you getting ready like we're going to a pageant? sydney likes you in every way. she was really hurt when you guys broke up, but obviously, she's moved on from it if she invited you to come all the way here.”

lena's words make you slow down your overanalyzing of yourself. she's right, sydney is forgiving you right now. trying to overdo everything to seem perfect isn't going to make her like you any more. she already likes you alot.

she wants you, not some polished version.

“you're right. i'm finished, let's go,” you say, leaving the sink and coming by the doorframe to make lena turn around. the two of you leave the bathroom, then put on your shoes and finally leave her apartment.

the drive to sydney's party is a short one, or at least it feels that way. lena, and you sing along to the songs on the radio the entire way there.

once at sydney's place, your heart starts racing. being back in her space feels so strange, but so right. alot is the same, but alot is different aswell. she bought a new couch, an upgrade from her old leather one. there's more plants around the place. her tv is new and even bigger than her last one.

the apartment is basically full with all of the bayern munich team and some other people from sydney's life. the smell of pizza and chicken hits your nose as you walk from the living room, where you greet everyone, to the kitchen.

and there is sydney.

her back is turned as you walk into the kitchen, but you can tell it's her.

her hair is styled in a ponytail, and she's wearing this black tank top and nice fitting jeans. she looks so pretty. she looks even prettier when she turns around.

“y/n?” sydney looks at you like she wasn't expecting you. perhaps she wasn't fully prepared to see you in person? even though she knew you were coming to her party. she allowed you to, after all.

you smile at her, “hi syd. is it too soon to say i missed you?”

“is it too soon to hug you?” she smiles at you back.

“i would be stupid to say yes, and i'm done being stupid.”

sydney flies into your arms, embracing you tightly. her arms wrap around your neck, her cheek pressing against yours. her quick reaction would feel weird if it didn't feel so right. you hug her back just as tight. it's been so long since you've been in her arms. so long since you smelled her scent. so long since you've even been around her.

“thank you for coming,” sydney says as she pulls away. not going too far as she stands close to you.

you laugh, “i'm the one who asked you. i should be thanking you.”

“for what?”

“for letting me back into your life.”

sydney's and your reunion is cut short by laura coming into the kitchen. she gives you two a look but doesn't say anything about your closeness.

“syd, you better get in here. it's your birthday party,” laura says, pointing to the living room. sydney looks at laura before looking at you. without thinking, you grab her hand and pull her out into the living room. time to party.

you ended up staying for longer than you thought you would in germany. sydney allowed you to stay in her spare room for the rest of your time there. the two of you have many, many conversations about where you two stand currently. she's not your girlfriend just yet, but you two are getting there.

when it's time for you to leave for america, sydney drives you to the airport and even blessed you with a kiss on the lips as a goodbye. your face is permanently flushed until you board the flight.

she texts you the moment you get off the plane back in san jose as well.

syd 💕

land safely?

you

yupp

but i miss you :(

syd 💕

miss you too :((

we'll see eachother soon

don't worry

you

call you when i get home?

syd 💕

call me when you get home

author note: i might possibly be working on an alt verison of this with sydney's pov.. depends on if my brain feels like working. hope yall enjoyed! 🙂‍↕️

© JACKIESUNSHINES, 2025

[keerysfreckles]

you're gonna go far | WILLIAM EKLUND 72

pairing: william eklund x reader

sumnary: you comfort william after another loss

warnings: no pronouns mentioned, not proofread, really short

a/n: i've been converted into a sharks fan, and ofc the first game i get into they're losing 5-1......

masterlist ! | requests are open

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

the day william got drafted to the san jose sharks, he was ecstatic. he was quick to move to the sunny state of california. where he met you.

he met you the same year of his rookie year, and the two of you got close fast, especially after founding out you lived in the same apartment building. you two spent countless hours getting to know each other. whether it be at one of your places, at a coffee shop, or over a facetime call while he was away. william was eager to invite you to one of his games, stating that you might be his good luck charm.

and boy did the smile on his face grow when his statement was proven to be true. you were at every single home game after that.

a month or so passes, and william is determined to ask you out. he had it all planned out. after the next home game, one he knew you'd be attending, he'd find tou afterwards wearing one of his jerseys, and ask you right then and there.

you said yes.

it was history after that moment in time. date after date, it proved you two were meant to be together. he kept charming you with his personality, while you seemed to continue wrapping him around your finger as time passed.

soon after you moved in together, considering one of you was at the other's apartment every day of the week, this would just make it easier.

within your time living together, it flowed so naturally, that it didn't feel like you had just moved into his place the week prior.

you fell into routines. whether it was when he was leaving for a roadie, or coming home from one. or if you were off to work, or going out with friends. everything just fit.

a routine you two were both used to was playing out tonight.

william had just gotten home from an intense game against minnesota, losing one to three. now william was no surprise to losing, considering he was aware he wasn't on a top performing team. however he was getting sick of this losing streak. the past seven games were all losses and he was just tired of it.

he stepped into the apartment, still deflated from the game's results. he set his things down in the little section for him by the door.

all he wanted was to change, and lay down with you.

you always knew how to cheer him up after games that didn't go his way. you were always there for him, through his highs and lows.

he quickly rummaged through the fridge, grabbing a water bottle, before walking towards your shared bedroom.

turning his head once he stepped inside, he sees the connected bathroom door closed with water running. he takes the opportunity to change into more comfortable clothes, before sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.

"i could've sworn i heard you come inside," your quiet voice makes william pick his head up. "are you okay?"

you saw the score right before you hopped in the shower, wanting to do nothing more but than comfort your boyfriend.

he shakes his head, "i'm just so sick of losing. it seems like that's all we're good at doing lately."

you walk over to him, your heart breaking in the process of the sight of his glistening eyes looking up at you. once your in arms reach of him, he wastes no time in simply wrapping his arms around you.

you're standing in between his legs, with both of his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. his face is planted in the crook of your neck.

you feel his body shake before the tears begin falling from his eyes, dampening your collarbone. he buries his face further as you begin running your fingers through his hair, while your other hand just holds him against you.

"i know it might not mean much, but i'm still proud of you," you start to whisper, "i'll always be proud of you. and so will the team. you guys are all in this together will. they're not upset at you, or angry for not winning. you guys will go to practice next week and talk through things then."

you feel his breathing even out, he starts sniffling (a sign he's finished crying), and now his thumbs rub small feather-like patterns up and down your lower back.

"thank you," he responds, leaning back slightly to look up at you. you send him a smile while wiping away any stray tears from under his eyes.

"of course," you lean forward and press a gentle kiss to his forehead. "do you want to go to bed? you've had a long day."

william smiles at your offer, as the two of you maneuver into your normal spots. the only switch tonight being you're the one holding onto william. you knew he needed it, and you were more than comfortable with complying.

you turned the lights off, and you sat in a comfortable silence. you ran your fingers through william's blonde hair once more, as he held onto your waist.

william knew it was going to take time for the team to get better, but his heart grew fonder at the thought of you being there every step of the way.

[yankstrash]

meels was on the phone with her mom when gabe strolled into her room

"i got a-" she stops talking when she sees her boyfriend and gives him a little wave "100 on my last paper.. yes the history one.. mhm.. okay, well gabe just got here so i'm going to go but i'll call you later.." she puts the phone on her shoulder

"mom says hi" she says to gabe

he smiles, "hi mom, miss you."

meels smiles and brings the phone back to her ear, "he says hi and he misses you.. mhm.. okay i'll talk to you later.. love you.. bye."

she hangs up and puts her phone down, patting the bed beside her

"hi angel" she smiles as he makes his way over to her, leaning down to plant a kiss on her lips "i didn't know you were coming by."

"yeahhh" he sits beside her on her bed

"how was your day?" she asks as she puts a hand on the back of his neck, playing with the hairs there

he shrugs, "it was alright. how was yours?"

"good, took my last final and started packing my room." she smiles, but notices the lack of smile on gabes face

she gives the back of his head a couple scratches, "you okay?" she asks softly

gabe looks down as he fiddles with his fingers, "um.. i've gotta tell you something."

meels sits up a bit while keeping a comforting hand on the back of his neck, waiting to hear what he has to say

gabe sighs lightly

"wills signing."

the hand on gabes neck that was playing with his hairs stops moving

"..w-what?"

gabe just nods his head as he keeps it down

"he.. what?" meels asks again

"he's signing. a couple people from san jose are flying out tomorrow and he's gonna go to his parents to do it."

meels is shocked as she hears gabes words

will.. signing?

obviously they all knew this would happen eventually, but she along with their other friends were sure he would be staying at least another year

at least through sophomore year

another year of will

another year of the usa line

another year of the friend group

another year of post hockey game parties

another year of celebrating birthdays

another year of trips

another year of attempting to embarrass each other in class

another year of laughs

they were all anticipating another year of all these things

the bc friend group. one big, happy family.

and for meels, another year with the friends she had met and grown so incredibly close with after meeting her boyfriend at the beginning of this school year

"i thought he was staying another year?" meels asks

gabe shrugs, "i mean he never confirmed it, but... we kinda assumed he was. especially after lenny said he was staying."

gabes shoulders are sulked as he speaks, his head staring down at the ground the entire time

"so.. that's just it? he's leaving bc?"

gabe nods in response to his girlfriends question

"but, but.. bc. his families school. he's from mass. a-and winning a natty, and a beanpot! and worlds! and.. you."

"yep." gabe says very quietly

amelia doesn't mean to upset her boyfriend with her words, but she is shocked and overwhelmed at this news.

in the 8 months she's known will, she's learned so much about him. like how boston college is way more than just a school he's at to play hockey. and how he, ryan and gabe have been together and been linemates since high school. and how the main reason gabe himself chose to come to bc and play hockey is because of wills influence.

and now, after 1 single year, he's leaving.

she takes the hand that was on the back of his neck and rubs his arm

"are you okay?" she asks gently

gabe gives her a small shrug, and she knows he's not okay

she scoots closer and embraces her boyfriend in a tight, comforting hug.

gabe sighs into her shoulder as he fists her shirt

"i'm going to miss him so much." he whispers against her skin

amelias heart breaks at his words

gabes bestest friend in the whole world.. leaving. after all the years together.

"i know baby, i'm sorry. i'm so, so sorry."

she's trying to hold herself together for gabes sake, but this is not easy news for amelia to hear either.

he is gabes best friend, but has also become one of her best friends. out of all his friends, she is closest with will. they have classes together, they tear up the dance floor together, they sing drunk karaoke together, they get rowdy at football games together, they go for sweet treat runs together

he has easily become one of her best friends, and favorite people to be around.

amelia doesn't even realize when tears start falling from her eyes

gabe notices immediately, and pulls back to look at her

"meels.." he wears a saddened expression as he sees how this news is affecting his girlfriend

she shakes her head and wipes her eyes, "i'm fine.. i'm fine."

he gives her another sympathetic look, and more tears fall from her eyes

"i'm really gonna miss him." she whispers

gabe nods, rubbing her thigh in comfort

"me too."

~

there is a knock on gabe and wills shared dorm room door, and at the sound of a faint "come in", amelia enters the room

she's met with the sight of will, packing his things

that sight alone is enough to almost make the tears start flowing again, but amelia fights them back

will smiles when he sees her, "hey."

she returns the smile, though it is much more faint

"hey" she responds as she closes the door behind her

will is aware that gabe left to go tell amelia the news, so he figured her presence was a result of that and not because she's here to see her boyfriend

"i think this is the first time you're over here for me and not gabe-o" will jokes

amelia playfully rolls her eyes at his words, but her smile soon fades

he knows she knows.

she's not too sure what to say.

what are you supposed to say when one of your best friends is unexpectedly up and leaving after you just built a whole friend group and had the greatest school year of your life

not to mention, how far he's moving.

a few moments of silence go by, as amelia is unsure of what to say. instead, the only sounds made are faint sniffles

coming from amelia

she couldn't hold them back any longer.

at the show of her emotions, will takes a few strides forward before embracing her comfortingly

he says not a word as he hugs his good friend tight against his chest

will and amelia are not the, "you're one of my best friends, lemme give you a big hug!" type of friends. they're more like, "you're one of my best friends, lemme jokingly insult and bicker with you until you're so fed up you wanna rip my head off.. lovingly!" type of friends.

that's just how they are. they bicker like siblings, always poking each other until the other snaps and getting on each others last nerves

but they have oh so much fun doing it, and it's made them the best of friends

but right now, in this moment, jokes aren't going to ease the sadness that amelias feeling

a big, tight hug from her best bud that's leaving her and all of them in 24 hours is.

this is one of the rare times will and amelia aren't cracking jokes and disrupting everyone else's peace, but she would take this a million times again before cracking another joke with will if it meant he was staying with everyone just a little longer.

"i'm going to miss you so much." she finally breaks the silence

"i'm going to miss you too, meels." will says softly

she sniffles and pulls back a bit, looking at will

"why... it's so soon, smit."

she feels bad asking him that, but she can't help it. her heart aches at this whole situation

"i'm just ready, meels. this is my dream, and i want it so bad. i'm ready for it."

she decides against bringing up all the obvious reasons he should be staying, as this is not the time and place for it

instead, she just nods and re embraces him.

"it's not gonna be the same around here without you."

will chuckles lightly at her words

"you won't miss me, cmon."

"oh yes i will. who am i supposed to make fun of every single day and try to trip every time they walk by me??"

"ryan is always fun to trip."

amelia can't help but laugh at his joke

she pulls back as both their arms fall to their sides

she takes a look around the room at everything will has already packed, making the mood turn back to serious

"so.. tomorrow?" she asks

will gives her a tight lipped smile and nods his head

"a couple people from the sharks are flying in, i'm gonna head to my parents in the morning.. i want to have one big goodbye with everyone, so you better be up for it."

"duh. of course i will be, dumbo."

and they're back to their normal selves

..almost.

she looks at will, and gives him a small nod

"i'm proud of you. i'm really, really proud of you, will. y'know i've thought you were a big headed idiot since the day gabe introduced us, but you've really become one of my best friends." she shrugs "not gonna be the same without you, but i'm happy for you. you're gonna be great."

will smiles and gives her another hug

"thank you meels.. love you, mean it."

"i know you do.. love you, smit."

[yodaprod]

Engineers inspecting IBM System/360 Model 20 computers during the final testing phase at the manufacturing plant, San Jose, California (1966)

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Picks and Shovels Chapter One (Part 2)

Picks and Shovels is a new, standalone technothriller starring Marty Hench, my two-fisted, hard-fighting, tech-scam-busting forensic accountant. You can pre-order it on my latest Kickstarter, which features a brilliant audiobook read by Wil Wheaton.

This week, I'm serializing the first chapter of my next novel, Picks and Shovels, a standalone Martin Hench novel that drops on Feb 15:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865908/picksandshovels

The book is up for presale on a Kickstarter that features the whole series as print books (with the option of personalized inscriptions), DRM-free ebooks, and a DRM-free audiobook read by Wil Wheaton:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/picks-and-shovels-marty-hench-at-the-dawn-of-enshittification

It's a story of how the first seeds of enshittification were planted in Silicon Valley, just as the first PCs were being born.

Here's part one:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/09/the-reverend-sirs/#fidelity-computing

And now, onto part two!

Rivka Goldman was the only woman in Sales Group One, this being the group that serviced and supported synagogues and their worshippers. She’d traveled all around the country, sitting down with men who owned garment factories, grocery stores, jewelry stores, delis, and other small businesses, training their “girls” in the use of the Fidelity system. It could handle business correspondence, company books, payroll, and other functions that used to be handled by four or five “girls”—who could all be replaced with just one.

Rivka was the only woman, and often it wasn’t she who made the sale, because the men who owned these businesses talked to other men. It was her male colleagues in Sales Group One who closed those sales and pocketed the commissions, but Rivka never complained.

“She was very good at it,” the rabbi told me. “She had a knack for computers, and for explaining them. The girls she trained, they learned. When they had troubles, they wanted to talk to her.”

Sister Maria-Eva Fernandez led a very large, all-woman team that ran mostly autonomously within Sales Group Two, a group that exclusively serviced parochial schools across the U.S., with a few customers in Central America. She was a product of these schools—she’d graduated from Christ the King in Denver and gone straight from there into the order, doing some student teaching before finding her way to Fidelity Computing via an internal talent search that filtered down to the convent from the archdiocese.

Like Rivka, Sister Maria-Eva was a natural: she could patiently train school administrators, their secretaries, department heads, and even individual teachers on the use of the Fidelity system. A couple of schools—fat with money from wealthy patrons—had bought entire classrooms’ worth of machines, creating programming labs for ambitious high-schoolers, and they were universally a success.

“We valued her, we praised her, we sent her to the national sales conference to lead workshops and share her expertise,” Father Marek said. “She was a star.” He spat the word.

Elizabeth Amelia Shepard Taylor didn’t have to go on a mission, but there was never any question but that she would. Her family had been prominent in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for over a century, and, as the eldest of eleven kids, she had a familial duty to set an example.

She had hoped for a posting in Asia—she’d studied Cantonese and Japanese in high school—but instead she drew San Jose, California. She staffed the Mission House, helping the boys who knocked on doors all day, serving as den mother, big sister, and the object of innumerable crushes.

She’d found a women’s computing club via a notice at the local library and had taken turns with four other women—two her age, and two retirees—prodding at a pair of Commodore PET computers, learning BASIC. Her letters home to her family were filled with the excitement of discovery and mastery, the esoteric world of assembly language that she’d dived into with the help of books and magazines from the library.

When her father heard that Fidelity was recruiting, he wrote her a letter. The same day she’d received it, she’d written a letter to Fidelity Computing Ltd., typing it up on the used ZX80 she’d bought at a swap meet (“for the Mission House”). It arrived at Fidelity in a #10 envelope, three neatly printed pages with the rough edges of fanfold paper that had had its perforations separated. The last page was all code examples.

She was promised a job by return post, starting the day she finished her mission, and she never ended up going back to Salt Lake City—just got a Caltrain train to the Daly City station and met with a Bishop Clarke’s personal assistant, a young man named John Garn who had done his mission in Taipei and chatted with her the whole way to the office in Taiwanese, which she laboriously parsed into Cantonese.

“She whipped Sales Group Three into a powerhouse,” Bishop Clarke said, with a sad shake of his head. “We went from last to first in under a year. Outsold the other two divisions combined, and we were on track to doubling this year.”

The three women had met at the annual sales conference, a huge event that took over the Fort Mason Center for a long weekend. Most of the event was segregated by sales group, but there were plenary sessions, mixers, and keynote addresses from leading sales staff that helped diffuse the winningest tactics across the whole business.

“We think they met in a women’s interfaith prayer circle,” Rabbi Finkel said. Father Marek made another of his disgusted grunts, which were his principal contributions to the conversation. Rabbi Finkel inclined his head a little in the priest’s direction and said, “Not everyone agreed that they were a good idea at first, but the girls loved them, and they created bonds of comity that served them well.”

“We don’t have a lot of turnover,” Rabbi Finkel said. “People like working here. They do well, and they do good. People from our faith communities sometimes feel like the future is passing them by, like their religion is an anchor around their necks, keeping them stuck in the past. A job here is a way to be faithful and modern, without sacrificing your faith.”

The bishop nodded. “When they turned in their resignation notices, of course we took notice. As Rabbi Finkel says, we just don’t get a lot of turnover. And of course, these three girls were special to us. So we took notice. I met with Elizabeth myself and asked her if there was anything wrong, and she refused to discuss it. I asked her what she did want to discuss and she went off on these wild tangents, not making any sense. I wrote a letter to her father, but I never heard back.”

“Rivka is a good girl,” the rabbi said. “She told me that she still loved God and wanted to live a pious, modest life, but that she had ‘differences’ with the teachings. I asked her about these ‘differences,’ but that was all she could say: ‘differences, differences.’ What’s a difference? She wants to uncover her hair? Eat a cheeseburger? Pray with men? She wouldn’t say.”

Father Marek cleared his throat, made a face, glared. “When Sister Maria-Eva ignored my memo asking her to come see me, I called her Mother Superior and that’s when I discovered that she’d left the order. Left the order! Of course, I assumed there was a man involved, but that wasn’t it, not according to her Mother Superior. She had taken new orders with a . . . fringe sect. It seemed she was lost to us.”

Check out my Kickstarter to pre-order copies of my next novel, Picks and Shovels!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/10/smoke-filled-room-where-it-happens/#computing-freedom

[haggishlyhagging]

It would take Diane Joyce nearly ten years of battles to become the first female skilled crafts worker ever in Santa Clara County history. It would take another seven years of court litigation, pursued all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court, before she could actually start work. And then, the real fight would begin.

For blue-collar women, there was no honeymoon period on the job; the backlash began the first day they reported to work—and only intensified as the Reagan economy put more than a million blue-collar men out of work, reduced wages, and spread mounting fear. While the white-collar world seemed capable of absorbing countless lawyers and bankers in the 80s, the trades and crafts had no room for expansion. "Women are far more economically threatening in blue-collar work, because there are a finite number of jobs from which to choose," Mary Ellen Boyd, executive director of Non-Traditional Employment for Women, observes. "An MBA can do anything. But a plumber is only a plumber." While women never represented more than a few percentage points of the blue-collar work force, in this powder-keg situation it only took a few female faces to trigger a violent explosion.

Diane Joyce arrived in California in 1970, a thirty-three-year-old widow with four children, born and raised in Chicago. Her father was a tool-and-die maker, her mother a returned-goods clerk at a Walgreen's warehouse. At eighteen, she married Donald Joyce, a tool-and-die maker's apprentice at her father's plant. Fifteen years later, after working knee-deep in PCBs for years, he died suddenly of a rare form of liver cancer.

After her husband's death, Joyce taught herself to drive, packed her children in a 1966 Chrysler station wagon and headed west to San Jose, California, where a lone relative lived. Joyce was an experienced bookkeeper and she soon found work as a clerk in the county Office of Education, at $506 a month. A year later, she heard that the county's transportation department had a senior account clerk job vacant that paid $50 more a month. She applied in March 1972.

"You know, we wanted a man," the interviewer told her as soon as she walked through the door. But the account clerk jobs had all taken a pay cut recently, and sixteen women and no men had applied for the job. So he sent her on to the second interview. "This guy was a little politer," Joyce recalls. "First, he said, 'Nice day, isn't it?' before he tells me, 'You know, we wanted a man.' I wanted to say, 'Yeah, and where's my man? I am the man in my house.' But I'm sitting there with four kids to feed and all I can see is dollar signs, so I kept my mouth shut."

She got the job. Three months later, Joyce saw a posting for a "road maintenance man." An eighth-grade education and one year's work experience was all that was required, and the pay was $723 a month. Her current job required a high-school education, bookkeeping skills, and four years' experience— and paid $150 less a month. "I saw that flier and I said, ‘Oh wow, I can do that.’ Everyone in the office laughed. They thought it was a riot. . . . I let it drop."

But later that same year, every county worker got a 2 to 5 percent raise except for the 70 female account clerks. "Oh now, what do you girls need a raise for?" the director of personnel told Joyce and some other women who went before the board of supervisors to object. "All you'd do is spend the money on trips to Europe." Joyce was shocked. "Every account clerk I knew was supporting a family through death or divorce. I'd never seen Mexico, let alone Europe." Joyce decided to apply for the next better-paying "male" job that opened. In the meantime, she became active in the union; a skillful writer and one of the best-educated representatives there, Joyce wound up composing the safety language in the master contract and negotiating what became the most powerful county agreement protecting seniority rights.

In 1974, a road dispatcher retired, and both Joyce and a man named Paul Johnson, a former oil-fields roustabout, applied for the post. The supervisors told Joyce she needed to work on the road crew first and handed back her application. Johnson didn't have any road crew experience either, but his application was accepted. In the end, the job went to another man.

Joyce set out to get road crew experience. As she was filling out her application for the next road crew job that opened, in 1975, her supervisor walked in, asked what she was doing, and turned red. "You're taking a man's job away!" he shouted. Joyce sat silently for a minute, thinking. Then she said, "No, I'm not. Because a man can sit right here where I'm sitting."

In the evenings, she took courses in road maintenance and truck and light equipment operation. She came in third out of 87 applicants on the job test; there were ten openings on the road crew, and she got one of them.

For the next four years, Joyce carried tar pots on her shoulder, pulled trash from the median strip, and maneuvered trucks up the mountains to clear mud slides. "Working outdoors was great," she says. "You know, women pay fifty dollars a month to join a health club, and here I was getting paid to get in shape." The road men didn't exactly welcome her arrival. When they trained her to drive the bobtail trucks, she says, they kept changing instructions; one gave her driving tips that nearly blew up the engine. Her supervisor wouldn't issue her a pair of coveralls; she had to file a formal grievance to get them. In the yard, the men kept the ladies' room locked, and on the road they wouldn't stop to let her use the bathroom. "You wanted a man's job, you learn to pee like a man," her supervisor told her.

Obscene graffiti about Joyce appeared on the sides of trucks. Men threw darts at union notices she posted on the bulletin board. One day, the stockroom storekeeper, Tony Laramie, who says later he liked to call her "the piglet," called a general meeting in the depot's Ready Room. "I hate the day you came here," Laramie started screaming at Joyce as the other men looked on, many nodding. "We don't want you here. You don't belong here. Why don't you go the hell away?"

Joyce's experience was typical of the forthright and often violent backlash within the blue-collar work force, an assault undisguised by decorous homages to women's "difference." At a construction site in New York, for example, where only a few female hard-hats had found work, the men took a woman's work boots and hacked them into bits. Another woman was injured by a male co-worker; he hit her on the head with a two-by-four. In Santa Clara County, where Joyce worked, the county's equal opportunity office files were stuffed with reports of ostracism, hazing, sexual harassment, threats, verbal and physical abuse. "It's pervasive in some of the shops," says John Longabaugh, the county's equal employment officer at the time. "They mess up their tools, leave pornography on their desks. Safety equipment is made difficult to get, or unavailable." A maintenance worker greeted the first woman in his department with these words: "I know someone who would break your arm or leg for a price." Another new woman was ordered to clean a transit bus by her supervisor—only to find when she climbed aboard that the men had left a little gift for her: feces smeared across the seats.

In 1980, another dispatcher job opened up. Joyce and Johnson both applied. They both got similarly high scores on the written exam. Joyce now had four years' experience on the road crew; Paul Johnson only had a year and a half. The three interviewers, one of whom later referred to Joyce in court as "rabble-rousing" and "not a lady," gave the job to Johnson. Joyce decided to complain to the county athrmative action office.

The decision fell to James Graebner, the new director of the transportation department, an engineer who believed that it was about time the county hired its first woman for its 238 skilled-crafts jobs. Graebner confronted the roads director, Ron Shields. "What's wrong with the woman?" Graebner asked. “I hate her," Shields said, according to other people in the room. "I just said I thought Johnson was more qualified," is how Shields remembers it. "She didn't have the proficiency with heavy equipment." Neither, of course, did Johnson. Not that it was relevant anyway: dispatch is an office job that doesn't require lifting anything heavier than a microphone.

Graebner told Shields he was being overruled; Joyce had the job. Later that day, Joyce recalls, her supervisor called her into the conference room. "Well, you got the job," he told her. "But you're not qualified." Johnson, meanwhile, sat by the phone, dialing up the chain of command. "I felt like tearing something up," he recalls later. He demanded a meeting with the affirmative action office. "The affirmative action man walks in," Johnson says, "and he's this big black guy. He can't tell me anything. He brings in this minority who can barely speak English . . . I told them, 'You haven't heard the last of me.'" Within days, he had hired a lawyer and set his reverse discrimination suit in motion, contending that the county had given the job to a "less qualified" woman.

In 1987, the Supreme Court ruled against Johnson. The decision was hailed by women's and civil rights groups. But victory in Washington was not the same as triumph in the transportation yard. For Joyce and the road men, the backlash was just warming up. "Something like this is going to hurt me one day," Gerald Pourroy, a foreman in Joyce's office, says of the court's ruling, his voice low and bitter. He stares at the concrete wall above his desk. "I look down the tracks and I see the train coming toward me."

The day after the Supreme Court decision, a woman in the county office sent Joyce a congratulatory bouquet, two dozen carnations. Joyce arranged the flowers in a vase on her desk. The next day they were gone. She found them finally, crushed in a garbage bin. A road foreman told her, "I drop-kicked them across the yard."

-Susan Faludi, Backlash: the Undeclared War Against American Women

[lxsolocam-blog]

1968 Ford Mustang GT-S Code. This car is an exact replica of the two cars from the movie Bullitt. It was built at the San Jose plant just like the movie cars and is powered by a 390 cubic inch motor with a Holley four barrel carburetor. It sports the correct color of Highland Green.

[eric-the-bmo]

Blood and Silicon ep23: Traitor's Blood

[Summary: On their way back to San Jose, Percy makes a discovery that leads to the coterie needing to collect some extra blood.] @sanguineasylum @kentuckycaverats @zwoelffarben

Retcon Notice: A small bit of last session had been rewritten, in which the moment of Amy sending Leo a text occurred before he faked his death- in addition, he also planted his burner phone on the body.

As we all roll Remorse checks at the start of the session, it's revealed that Percy failed his; our local Ventrue Antitribu is now at 5 Humanity.

It's a quiet drive at first as the boys are lost in thought about the man they killed in order to fake Leo's death. Leo feels awful about it, and is wondering about what kind of person that man was as he holds his hands together, picking at his nail polish. Blake keeps his eyes on the road, trying to appear nonchalant about it all. Percy's reading over some notes he took, quietly malding about the Lasombra's defection to the Camarilla. No one really speaks.

("[The coterie is] all so antisocial!" "I was gonna say we should lock them all into a room and force them to talk, but they're Already kind of locked in a room together and they're Still not saying anything")

At some point during the drive, Leo- in true roadtrip fashion- points out some cows that they're driving past. This prompts Percy to mention he grew up on a farm with his brothers; Leo glances at him, curious about this small lore drop, only to notice that Percy's grey eyes have gotten even more pale. Almost white. Blake asks Percy some little questions about being on a farm, and as a fun fact it turns out that Blake and Percy have ridden horses a few times, while Leo never had the opportunity to (though he was interested in it when he was a kid). It's just a nice little exchange about horses- though it's discovered that Percy's smile is a bit unsettling now that his Humanity has dropped.

It's getting close to dawn at this point. Percy suggests there's a place relatively close nearby that they can stay for the day; while traveling, he tells the coterie, the Sabbat would set up secret temporary havens for nomadic packs to rest up at. They're typically well-hidden, with no chance of Anarchs or Camarilla knowing of their locations, but Percy adds there might be a risk of Lupines since they're out in the wilderness. Other than that, it's a good place to stay and would shave some time off their roadtrip home.

Blake, however, is skeptical and does not want to spend the night in a Sabbat den- especially one with the risk of werewolves and the chance a pack might already be there. Blake suggests they can part ways and Percy reminds him he still has business in San Jose, mainly regarding the search for Leo's sire. After a tense discussion it's stated that Percy will spend the night at the haven and they'll pick him up later. Blake drives to the side of the road so Percy can walk to the haven. While grabbing his things Percy realizes he still has Kyra's old spear that our Gangrel has given him; he gives it back to Blake, who makes a quip about how Percy might need it for the werewolves.

Blake reassures a hesitant Leo that the two of them can check out the haven the next night when it's time to grab Percy; that seems to satisfy the curious Malk for the time being, and they drive to a hotel for the night. ___________

Percy makes his way through midwestern forest until he locates the hidden cellar door of the temporary Haven; It opens up with a creak. The place is dark, but with Hidden Senses Percy can see the haven's a bit small, and he disarms a tripwire trap before he enters and puts his bags down. Now he can see it's dusty, with a few crates stacked around- a small Sabbat emblem is scratched into the wood of one of them.

Percy uses a (possibly) slightly blood-stained shovel to pry open that crate, which turns out was being used to hide a secret hatch! However, it's got a pretty strong letter padlock on it. On the inside of the crate a carving reads "In Nomine _____," and so Percy puts the word "Caine" into the padlock to open up the hatch. After examining the contents of the other crates (which had nails, candles and cans of gasoline), our cultist descends down the hatch's ladder to enter yet another room.

Cots line the walls, which are pained with Sabbat iconography. There's a small cache of melee weapons- straight-up there is a sword in there- and in the middle of the room is a table (an altar?) with a black bowl. Another thing lying on the table, the most notable thing in the room, is a shirtless and beat-up Kindred with a stake driven through his chest. He's got a crucific tattoo, and there's a note on top of his body: ["Traitor's blood. Still good to eat."]

Percy determines he's not going to do that; he's connecting some dots, and figures the man is a Lasombra. He wants to de-stake him and ask some questions, but knows if he does that now he's going to get attacked by a Frenzying vampire- he needs to find some blood other than his own for the man to feed on.

And so our Ventrue heads out into the surrounding forest to go hunting.

------

Meanwhile, the other two Kindred have checked into a hotel and are sun-proofing the place. Blake gets a text from Percy informing him about the staked man- but in code and vague terms, of course, just in case the Inquisition is listening in. Leo is looking over Blake's shoulder to read their conversation.

Blake: "Plan on waking him up before or after we swing by?" Percy: "At my earliest convenience. Unless you and Mr. Leo would prefer to be present?"

At this point Blake notices Leo and glances at him. Leo shirks back and busies himself with continuing to sun-proof the room; given his already-low self-esteem and the guilt from earlier in the night, he's assumed Blake was annoyed at him. Blake offers to get some extra blood from the stranger and agrees to meet up with Percy at the haven the next night.

---

Dec 29, 2021.

Leo fails a Rouse Check, so he wakes up with a pretty bad headache as he gets to 3 Hunger. Blake sends Percy a text that they're about to head out to get some blood, and as he continues his morning routine Leo decides to ask him that he's spoken as if he's run into the Sabbat before? Blake merely responds that if one survives in this unlife long enough, they're bound to run into that sect.

["-Whether it's a gaggle of shovelheads or a Templar, apparently."]

Blake lets Leo know that they need to pick something up, and suggests maybe afterwards the Kid can ask more questions. He comments that despite being a guy who likes his secrecy, Leo sure does want to know a lot about others.

["And I'm not judging you," he says, grabbing his car keys, "I'm just saying." The Malkavian shrugs- looks away. "Everyone's a bit hypocritical," he mutters. "Don't I know it."] ________

Blake figures the best place to easily get blood would be a medical setting, so he drives towards a clinic. Leo's a bit uneasy about the whole idea, but hey what else are ya gonna do about it. They reach the parking lot, and so starts the escapade of lying to hospital employees.

["Stay here." Blake leaves the car, pauses, and then turns around to point at Leo. "Actually stay here."]

Blake enters the place but doesn't use Blush of Life as he speaks to the receptionist; he explains to her he's new here, and nervously asks if they do walk-ins, etc etc, are there any forms he should sign? She asks what his symptoms are, and Blake does a pretty good job in pretending to be hesitant in admitting that he thinks he might have a UTI. Blake is given some forms to fill out and is told a doctor will see him in a bit; he fills it out quicky, putting down a fake name as his player implies Blake's might've done this before- though he's gotta do some mental math for putting down a false date of birth.

(Meanwhile, Leo's trying his best to stay preoccupied, which is a bit difficult bc 1) he's at 3 hunger and a bit fidgety bc of it, and 2) this is Leo here; but he manages to not get up to anything. He considers using Premonition on Blake's jeep, but settles on replaying his Kirby game.)

Back at the clinic, Blake speaks to a doctor about the (not real) UTI issue, and is directed to the restroom so they can get a urine sample, and the doctor leaves the room. Blake obviously doesn't do as he's told, and instead starts to make his way to the back of the clinic; it's an emergency clinic area, so everyone is busy and doesn't quite pay him any mind.

He sneaks into the room where they store the blood bags and finds six of them. Blake takes half, putting them in the inside pockets of his jacket, and dips outta there and heads back to the car.

Notes/Ramblings:

"Percy can't fuck no more" -the ST on Percy getting to 5 Humanity

The horse conversation really was such a Nothing conversation but i'm including it here anyway

Leo my beloved. Sabbat hater and Percy disliker but also he is So so curious about the haven

One of our ideas for un-staking the man without him attacking Percy was for Percy to like. Tie a rope around the stake and pull it out once he's at the top of the ladder so that Percy isn't the first thing the man sees and would instead go for the blood we'll leave out for him. It's like tying a string to a loose tooth and also a door yknow

The idea of Leo not knowing that vampires can frenzy after being de-staked is kinda funny. "I've been staked multiple times before and I was fine, dw about it-"

I cant believe Blake's player and the ST roleplayed a "hey i might have a UTI" hospital scene. my god. and meanwhile leo is trying to Not do stupid impulsive stuff. blood and silicon truly is a comedy at times

[darkmaga-returns]

We have all seen images of electric scooters, cars and buses powered by lithium-ion batteries spontaneously combust in container ships, home garages, city streets and underground and open-air cat parks.

We also witnessed the explosion at one of the world’s largest battery storage facilities which is proving to be an environmental disaster!

Nature Preserve Poisoned After California Lithium Battery Facility Catches Fire, Scientists Say

“High levels of nickel, manganese, and cobalt were found in the soil within 2 miles of the Vistra Moss Landing Power Plant and Energy Storage Facility, KQED reported, citing measurements taken by scientists at San Jose State University. Those heavy metals were found in soil samples shortly after the facility caught fire on January 16.”

“Though local outlets have covered the story, it has not received national attention, possibly because the facility was used to store solar power during the day and provide it to consumers in the evening. Had the facility been a nuclear power plant, the story would likely have become international news.”

Funny that!

[wheelscomedyandmore]

The Ford plant in san jose, California in 1965.

[xeriprincess]

Ateez as poetry quotes  +ﾟ*｡:ﾟ+

Writing this destroyed me

Hongjoong

“You say that you love rain, but open your umbrella when it rains.

You say that you love the sun, but find shadow when the sun shines.

You say that you love the wind, but close your window when the wind blows.

This is why I am afraid

You say that you love me too.”

━━━ William Shakespeare

Seonghwa

“The words I am about to express:

They now have their own crowned goddess.”

━━━ Leandro Diaz

Yunho

“Nobody deserves your tears,

But whoever deserves them will not make you cry.”

━━━ Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Yeosang

“If I loved you less,

I might be able to talk about it more.”

━━━ Jane Austen

San

“I hope it’s love.

I’m trying really hard to make it love.”

━━━ Richard Siken

Mingi

“I killed a plant once because I gave it too much water.

Lord I worry that love is violence.”

━━━ Jose Olivarez

Wooyoung

“I’ve never loved anyone enough to let them destroy me but God,

She could take me by my throat,

And my eyes would sparkle at the mere inches between us.”

━━━ I couldn’t find the author for this, if anyone knows pls let me know :)

Jongho

“If I knew this is the last time I see you,

I’d tell you I love you, 

And would not just assume foolishly you know it already.”

━━━ Gabriel Garcia Marquez

[conradscrime]

Florence Sally Horner

October 22, 2023

Florence "Sally" Horner was born on April 18, 1937 in Camden, New Jersey to Russell and Ella Horner. Sally's father took his own life when Sally was only 5 years old, and Ella raised her daughter as a single mother with the help of Sally's older half sister, Susan.

Sally was in the 5th grade at Northeast Elementary School and was an honours student.

In March 1948, Sally, who was 10 years old at the time tried to steal a notebook from a local store as a dare by some of her classmates. However, Sally was caught by a man named Frank La Salle. Frank had told Sally he was an FBI agent, and threatened to send her to a reform school unless she reported to him.

On June 15, 1948, Frank La Salle abducted 11 year old Sally. He told her to tell Ella that he was the father of two of her friends at school and she was invited on a week long vacation to Atlantic City.

Originally, the plan was to have Sally write her mother letters to let her know their vacation was going to last longer than expected, but on July 31, 1948, the last letter was received by Ella. Ella contacted the police, who found out the sender address for the letters was in Atlantic City.

On August 4, 1948, investigators found the home empty, besides two packed suitcases and a studio photo of Sally sitting on a swing. Ella told investigators that Sally and Frank were also travelling with a "Mrs. Robinson" who according to Frank was a 25 year old secretary. She left them after they arrived in Atlantic City supposedly.

Over the next 21 months, Frank and Sally moved through multiple US states under different names, with Frank claiming Sally was his daughter. Throughout this time, Frank would rape Sally repeatedly.

The pair first stayed in Baltimore, Maryland, where Sally went to Catholic grammar school under the name "Madeleine La Plante." Frank would always carry a handgun on him to stop Sally from trying to escape.

In April 1949, Frank and Sally were living in Dallas, Texas, and Sally was going by the name "Florence Planette." It was here that Sally ended up telling a friend her secret. Sally also confided in a neighbour, Ruth Janisch, who was becoming suspicious of Frank.

Ruth thought Frank had an extremely possessive attitude toward his supposed daughter. Ruth did not know that Frank also regularly molested her 5 year old daughter while Sally was at school.

In March 1950, Ruth and her husband moved to San Jose, California, to find work, encouraging Frank. to do the same so she could still have contact with Sally.

Eventually, Ruth was able to get Sally to tell her the truth about Frank, and Ruth got Sally to phone her family from Ruth's house. Sally attempted to call Ella but the line disconnected, as Ella had recently lost her job and was not able to pay her phone bill. Sally then called her sister Susan and was able to get in contact and tell her to get the FBI on it.

On March 22, 1950, Frank was arrested but continued to say Sally was his daughter. Authorities in New Jersey were able to confirm that Sally's real father had died 7 years previously. On April 1, 1950, Sally was reunited with her mother. Frank was sentenced to 30-35 years in Trenton State Prison on April 3.

Frank La Salle was 51 years old. at the time he abducted Sally. He was a known sex offender and went by several aliases. It is unclear where exactly he was born or even his date of birth. Most commonly the names used for his parents were Frank and Nora, and he was most likely from Chicago or Indianapolis. The most frequent date of birth he gave was May 27, between 1890-1901.

He had an extensive criminal record, beginning in June 1938. In 1944, Frank was convicted for the molestation and sexual assault of 5 underage girls in 1943. He was getting illegally married under false names and had many charges against him. He was released on January 15, 1948, only 6 months before he abducted Sally Horner.

Sally's story ends tragically, as on August 18, 1952, she died in a car accident near Woodbine, New Jersey due to breaking her neck in the crash. She was only 15 years old. Frank had actually sent a bouquet of flowers to Sally's funeral from prison, but they were not displayed.

Frank La Salle died on March 22, 1966, exactly 16 years to the date of when he was arrested for the abduction of Sally Horner. He was 69 years old.