#well I didn’t have insurance with my last job and even though this job supposedly would give us benifits the Dr said it’s shared so I still

[amohyunwoo]

🦷.

[jarofrebukepodcast]

S1E1 - Pilot (OFFICIAL TRANSCRIPT)

We are working on getting our official transcripts uploaded and links added to each episode. We'll be starting by posting them here on Tumblr!

Episode 1: Pilot

Intro:

The following audio recording is classified documentation for case (static) with The Enclosure, unauthorized access to this information will lead to immediate intervention. Progress further if proper clearance has been given.

(Music)

Jared:

Dr. Daman has suggested that I start an audio journal of some kind. Something outside of my therapy sessions to help me track my progress or whatever. Considering I don’t have much of anything that’s mine anymore, she suggested that this might actually be a good way to reclaim some of my individuality? Maybe talking about what I do know of myself might help me remember more...

So, I guess I’ll just start with what I know:

My name is Dr. Jared Hel. I’m a field researcher for The Enclosure, I specialize in studying the particularly dangerous creatures around here. For some reason, no matter their effect on others, nothing is permanent on me. Gods, the amount of times I’ve died this last year is probably more than I should ever care to admit… I guess it’s a blessing in disguise, though. It’s job security, for one thing: a scientist who can’t die no matter how dangerous the entity he’s studying? I think I’m set.

Sure, I may bounce back from death with a few more scars, but they’re relatively healed up and I’m rarely ever in much pain when I wake up.

Though, to be fair, if The Enclosure just left these creatures alone, I’m sure this wouldn’t even be an issue in the first place, but nooo. They just gotta meddle.

I started working at The Enclosure… what, two years ago? Though I’ve really only been on the field for less than a year. Apparently I worked at a different research site for some other organization before that, but I don’t really remember anything from before two years ago. I supposedly transferred here to research a particularly dangerous subject, the one that… well, the one that killed my team and me I guess.

The most frustrating thing is the lack of remembering. I don’t remember any of their names, their faces, nothing. I had to relearn absolutely everything and no matter what I relearn, I never remember. It’s so infuriating knowing that there’s a whole childhood and more that I have yet to recollect anything from. I feel so… left out of reminiscent conversations, y’know?

Well, of course you know, I’m practically talking to myself here.

All I know of myself before the incident is what was on my work file. Top-of-my-class graduate from IU, but I don’t remember a damn thing about my time there… Apparently there’s a lot of fields ‘round there, though I guess that’s not too different from the towns around here. Born and raised in those corn fields, according to my records. No documented family to speak of, but from what other folks in the labs have shared about their families, maybe I’m not missing out on too much.

When I asked about getting in touch with folks from the other facility I worked at, they didn’t seem to think it would be too helpful. Hell, how would they even know who to put me in touch with? Wasn’t like they would have documented my friends or anything.

So, again: nothing. 

Story of my damn life.

And of course there’s Todd. Oh, I’m sorry, Dr. Todd Carmen. He’s currently head of operations at The Enclosure… he’s- I’ll say he’s a character. Not as unique as he thinks he is, but certainly not boring. But just because something isn’t boring doesn’t mean that it’s entertaining.

He has a fashion sense that I would have never personally considered wearing, but… hmm. That shade of orange with his pale complexion? Simply bold choices, in my opinion.

But I’m sure he’ll get himself sorted out someday.

Besides all that though, I guess it’s not too bad. Job security, with benefits. Apparently a lot of jobs don’t offer health insurance, though with our line of work it’s kinda necessary to keep us alive. 

(sigh) What else do I know?

The Enclosure is an organization based out in the middle of absolute nowhere that researches the various anomalies, but really only bothers with the particularly dangerous ones. Like, really dangerous ones. I mean, Bigfoot, Mothman, that sorta stuff they really leave to their own devices for the most part. Sure, they hurt and even, I guess, sometimes kill people, but not a lot of people. And enough people already know about those things to not really hide them away now.

Wichton is like two hours from any other town, it's guised as a farming town. Well, no, it is a farming town, but The Enclosure has taken it as its guise. Most of the facilities are underground, deep underground. They paid off all the townsfolk back when they were building to not ask questions, and considering they built it during a massive economic depression, no one asked questions. The townsfolk took the money. But there’s still some circulating rumors about us to this day, of course. As long as we keep the particularly dangerous creepy-crawlies underground with us, they’ve got no reason to worry too much.

Sure, sometimes things sneak out and make weird noises in the fields at night… but country folk are superstitious folk, and if nothing else it’s what these people have known all their lives. Suspicious lights, weird noises, and mutated deer don’t even phase these people.

The Enclosure picks its battles when it decides what to tackle, that’s for damn sure. Not like they’re an international brand or anything, they only have the resources to stick to these neck of the woods… and with all the anomalies in these parts, not really surprised they settled here. Been here for nearly 100 years and have very little idea why it’s such a supernaturally-charged area. Some say it might be the fact that folks are so superstitious that it basically invites the energy here, but others think there’s a reason.

But, it ain’t my department to figure that out.

The hardest part of the job is getting things into the facility, but sometimes the hot shots up top decide to just have us study those things from afar since taking them out of their established location seems impossible. So many ladies in gray and white dresses all over the place, we can’t exactly make a support group for them here or anything. Not when they’re out haunting dunes or lakes or crying by the side of the road or whatever. Not really hurting anyone all that much, so they’ve mostly just been left alone. We keep tabs, but we also don’t always interfere.

Oh, and being the sacrificial lamb is a bit annoying, but I bounce back quickly enough. Death has gotten less disorienting over time, but no less annoying.

(pause, then sigh) 

What did I do today?

Well, I had a shorter day, shiftwise. So I went in at like 6am? Then got out at around 1ish. I was supposed to leave closer to noon, but I ended up having to stop by Dr. Rahal’s office for a bit because of my headaches. They’ve been getting worse and we don’t really know why. At least they come and go in waves, so I get some peace at times. It’s always nice to see Dr. Rahal, though. He’s been the nicest to me since I started at this place, from what I can remember at least. He’s one of The Enclosure physicians who I’ve been seeing from anything to work-related injuries that aren’t too severe to these headaches. I swear, I’ve never met a guy in my life who can smile so genuinely and be so sincerely happy over just about anything. It’d honestly be annoying if it weren’t so sincere and if he weren’t also so genuinely nice. 

He’s really trying to help with these headaches, but medicine doesn’t really ever help and the medical scans showed nothing that would indicate any issue. Not that they let me see the medical scans… I guess I wouldn’t understand them anyways even if they did let me. Dr. Rahal thinks it’s stress so that takes us back to therapy with Dr. Daman.

Had a session after work, which was when she suggested I really start this up. She suggested it before, but I kind of dismissed the idea until today. She made a very good point.

What’s the harm in doing it? I mean it can’t make the headaches worse. And even if it doesn’t help me remember or anything, maybe getting things off my chest can help in some way. 

Therapy was… uneventful. Not like much happens in a week- just the usual work stuff, mostly. Though I have started going out after work a bit more often, even if it’s just to a local shop or to get a bite to eat. Dr. Daman suggested a few months back that I socialize a bit more and it’s been kinda nice. Weird, but nice. I've mostly stuck to myself outside of work, honestly. Well, besides those community events that you're basically ostracized if you don't attend- or you get bombard you with those calls of "where were you last night? We were so worried about you. Are you okay?" even though you don't remember giving them your number. 

I like to go to a restaurant in town called The Royal Cow. They make the best in-house ice cream. They built it to look like one of those red farm houses which matches most of the buildings in town, but their mint chocolate-chip ice cream is basically the best ice cream I’ve ever had. They also make really really good sugar-cream pie, get it when it’s still fresh, still a little warm. Melts in the mouth. I mean, it basically cures any hankering for a sweet tooth.

So, that’s what I ordered. A fresh slice of sugar-cream pie. That was my dessert. They do also have some pretty good not-sweet foods. Their lunch menu’s alright, but their breakfast food’s really where it’s at and they do that ‘breakfast all day’ thing so I got their breakfast platter. It’s just really really good food.

On my way home I bumped into Darius, he's the son of some local farmers in town. His dads have an apple orchard on top of everything else. The Enclosure actually keeps tabs on their farm because no matter WHAT his dad, John, plants, apples always grow. I mean- no matter what John plants - he could plant pumpkin seeds in the fall - but no, apple trees are going to spring up and I’ll be damned if those aren’t the best apples. I mean sometimes crabapples grow instead, he can’t really control what kind of apples grow, but John has found a way to make crabapples into really good apple pies and ciders and stuff. I heard they make good jams and jellies, but he perfected a crabapple pie. He said it’s “just a lotta love”, but I think there’s with those apple trees.

But again, not my department to figure it out.

Darius and I made small talk. The weather, mostly. So mostly just complaining about how it wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t so humid or if we just had a nice breeze, but that the shade does help. 

(sigh)

He always makes excuses to talk to me- I mean, I’m not complaining, but that does seem to be a thing around town is everyone makes excuses to talk to everybody. Like the one time that Holly stopped me in the middle of the road to chat when we were passing each other. It’s a community norm I guess, but Darius always wants to talk. Again I’m not complaining, he’s a really nice conversational partner. We can chat about just about anything with certain obvious restrictions.

He knows I work at the The Enclosure, but folks in town seem to think it’s some hoity-toity but shady government job. I don’t think we’re really tied to the government, per se, but whatever lie they’ve told the town is just what I stick with. Whether or not they believe that is entirely another story. He knows I’m a scientist, but he thinks I’m more of an environmental natural scientist instead of a supernatural scientist… I guess whether or not he believes that is an entirely other story, too. 

But we don’t really talk about work much, on my end I don’t bring it up. While he does talk about working on the family farm from time to time, especially because they expect him to take over, he tries to find other things to talk about. He’s gone back to school recently. They recently in town set up a sort of trade school, I guess, where if anyone’s considered a master in town, they can teach classes to teach other people whatever skills they have to share. Seems Darius is taking a bit of a home-ec class, I guess. Sewing and cooking and things like that. He said that he’s great with his hands in the field, but he really wants to round out his hand skills. 

He then awkwardly chuckled after that, but I don’t understand why. I mean, it’s completely respectable to want to be able to stitch up your own clothes or actually have a nice dinner besides the reheated leftovers left on your doorstep or know what to do when your microwave catches fire… honestly, I don’t know what all they teach in those classes.

I’d never even heard of something like a home-ec class until Darius told me about it. I wonder if I ever took one… if I wasn’t so busy with work I would actually look into taking classes. I like to learn and Darius even said he’d be more than happy to help me with anything if I needed it which is nice. 

But I’m a really fast learner. I actually get bored a lot because of it. I don’t see why anyone would need five months or years of training or educating. No, I can see why- I also just know I'm the anomaly. When I forgot everything and had to relearn how to read, I was at a 10th grade reading level, by what, just a few weeks?. Then I was at college-level again in a matter of a month. But even though I was relearning stuff quick, I never remembered anything. I never remembered books I’ve read before the incident. I never remembered learning how to read the first time. I just was quickly relearning how to read. I don’t even know if you’d consider remembering how to read. 

I mean, I’m never remembering anything. I don’t even remember the creature that I was working with in the incident, and no one will tell me anything because they said they want me to remember organically or something like that. They said they feared something like a… trauma whiplash? I really don’t understand it and it just pisses me off more than anything, but Dr. Daman won’t budge.

No one will let me look over any files of the incident or files on the other lab techs who died. They slapped this key around my neck and said “Here, to keep your brain in check. Oh, you literally remember nothing? Whelp, tough luck. See this therapist and see what happens-”

(groan)

They said if it weren’t for my weird powers then the incident would have killed me too. They said they don’t know why I have the ability to rebound from death like it nearly never happened, but they sure are willing to use my ability for work.

Right, the key. Uhm-

When I woke up, the first thing the doctors did was have me wear it around my neck on some sort of sturdy red cord. I’ve never taken the thing off in years… You would think that it may have faded a bit or that the cord would have worn, but no. Cord is still sturdy and key is just as shiny as the day they gave it to me, which isn’t that shiny. It was a bit tarnished already, but hasn’t gotten any more tarnished. It’s supposed to help keep my brain in check after the effects of the incident. Dr. Daman says that if I take it off, I risk unlearning absolutely everything that I’ve learned in the last two years… I don’t know why the key is supposed to be the thing that does this, but this is the only time death has ever made me lose everything, so I figured what’s the harm in wearing it. Not like it hurts to wear it or anything…

Darius has asked me about it before, though. Not when we first met or anything, but after multiple times of running into each other he finally asked. I get asked about it a lot, but I just say it’s a familial trinket and they tend to just leave it be.

But Darius had asked after we’d shared a few drinks at a local bar and, even though I have a bit of a high tolerance for alcohol and I never stay drunk long, he seemed to ask at just the right moment for me to open up a bit more, I guess. I said it’s a comfort item… which I guess isn’t exactly the whole truth- I actually honestly hate this thing. A constant reminder of all the things I’ve forgotten, but I guess there’s slight comfort in knowing that, because of this key, everything I’ve relearned will stick. 

They say it’s important to understand all that you DON’T know, but I know all too well that I’ve got at least 20 years of things that I don’t remember. But hey, with this key, I guess I can rebuild that. 

I must have seemed uncomfortable about this question or he was satisfied with that answer because Darius let it go after that, but I catch him staring at it sometimes. He’s asked what I know about Skeleton Keys, and all things considered: I didn’t know much. At least, didn’t remember.

He told me that his dads both told him about the powers keys hold, not just to lock things but even more importantly to unlock them. That a skeleton key could lock or unlock any door to a given building, no matter what other keys people had. Commonly used by cleaners and inn owners and stuff like that. He really seems fixated on the idea and I guess the symbolism is striking with my current… situation considered....

Whatever. The less he knows the better- it would be nice to talk to someone outside of The Enclosure about more personal stuff from time to time, but I can’t go around spilling secrets.

(Pause)

… right, my day. Lunch, talked with Darius. Uh-

After about 15 minutes of 'alright, I should get going’'s, taking a few steps apart, starting up talks about other topics and repeating the process, I finally started home. On my way home I drove past some cornfields and various other pastures. The Enclosure gave me a house near the edge of town, because after a year of rigorous ‘relearning’, I didn't want to live in their communal housing anymore. It's not too far from Darius's family orchard and farm, which is nice. Nicest farm in the area, in my opinion. There's no real rivalry between the farmers, at least nothing too intense, but something about those trees in the distance out of my window is really relaxing.

All the cattle I passed on my way home had moved to face the same direction near the fences and stared into the distance, mindlessly grazing- that and the clouds rolling in were very strong indicators that there was gonna be a heck of a storm tonight. I didn't listen to the weather announcement this morning, but the sky's only gotten darker now so I'm ready to sleep like the dead tonight.

But, when I was pulling into the driveway, I saw something rustling in the bushes by my front door. I thought maybe it was a squirrel or rabbit or something, but then two tiny hands parted the leaves and I saw one of those black-eyed children just… sitting there. Staring at me. I normally only see them at night, I guess it was waiting for me to come home to loiter on the doorstep or something- I don't know. When I got out of my car, I was surprised when it actually climbed out of the bush and just rigidly stared at me with those lifeless black eyes. I got my stuff out of my car and made my way to the door, but it was kinda standing in the way? So I just slid on by it with a muttered apology and slipped inside before it could start whispering requests for entrance.

Never making that mistake again. No matter how much I want to let them in, my house got all sorts of messed up last time and I got a heck of a scolding at work when they found out. I don’t shoo them away, but I don’t let them in anymore.

It was really weird. They normally come knocking or waiting by the sides of the road at night, I had never seen one in the middle of the afternoon.

Once I got settled in I pulled out a book, a crossword book, I was gifted at the last community bonfire. I blow through those things really fast, but I really like them, so Christine gave me like five of them. All different, claimed that she found the most difficult ones she could which was really sweet. She even wrote little notes on the inside cover of each of them, so I’ve ended up keeping them when I'm done just so I can reread her notes when I need a little pick-me-up. Whether a crossword book or a little box of treats, she always writes uplifting notes and anecdotes inside any gifts she gives anyone, all signed in the most beautiful cursive:

With love, Christine Torres.

She really mothers everyone in town, at least that’s what I’ve noticed.

This one is a real toughie, which I like. That's mostly what I've been up to since I got home. I decided that I'd take a break and get to doing, well, this. Dr. Daman was adamant about me giving it a shot, so here we are.

Me, myself, and I…

(Phone dinging)

Ope. Sorry, hold on. Work email.

(Mumbling) Who am I even apologizing to?

(Pause)

Well now, wait a minute- A new lab partner? Dr. Gia Castillo… why the hell did they give me a new lab partner? I guess I'm meeting her in the morning…

I hate it when Todd pulls this. But I guess I've got no say in the matter. The usual.

(Sigh)

But I hate sudden change. I'm tired, I'm reheating some food Mrs. Wethington gave me and going to bed. I can hear the thunder starting to get louder and that kid outside tapping on my door, so I guess I should try and get some sleep.

Guess I'll… talk to you later?

(Pause) This is actually kinda nice. Saying whatever I want without worries. (Strained chuckle that trails off)

I'm already dreading tomorrow.

Dr. Jared Hel, signing off, I guess.

(Recorder clicks and music trails in with sounds of thunder)

Credits:

"Jar of Rebuke" is written and produced by Casper Oliver, who is also the voice of Dr. Jared Hell.

The intro is read by Vanessa Rosengrant, and credits are read by Ashlee Craft who has created the podcast’s official graphics.

Music was created by TheMenniss (spelled M-E-N-N-I-S-S), who you can find and support on Bandcamp, Spotify, and Twitch.

Find us on Twitter, Instagram, and anywhere else you get your podcast fix for more “Jar of Rebuke”, and also to get updates on upcoming official merch for our show.

Support projects by this crew on Patreon to further other queer-lead projects and get neat perks. All donations are appreciated and will grant further clearance to special “Jar of Rebuke” content.

Thesperience Productions Patreon.

[fallenrepublick]

Can we have a virgin!reader help with Maul's heat? Like he doesn't know and instinct is telling him to do the do. Reader is afraid that Maul would go to another because they won't put out?

Youuuuu sure can, my dude

Warnings: Vague NSFW mentions, but nothing really

The signs certainly were not subtle.

When you had officially become a couple, (whatever that meant in this day and age), you had taken it upon yourself to research his species enough for you to understand differences between you two that extended past surface level, a decision which you became more and more grateful for as time passed. And though you would by no means consider yourself an expert on his kind, you were well aware of what instinctually occurred every so often, and what its intended function was. All this to say, you hadn’t yet prepared for what you would do once it did arrive.

And arriving it was, whether you wanted it or not. You could sense his pulse quicken more than usual when you were nearby, and you felt his eyes on you linger with an unmistakable hunger that made your face both heat up and your head turn away, as if avoiding what you knew was inevitable. Yet he hadn’t acted on it. Not yet, anyways, and eventually, it made you wonder if he did know what you hadn’t yet told him, if he were controlling what he wanted most because he could sense what you didn’t have the heart to admit.

But a moment came when any thoughts of such things were dashed in an instant, and his entrance into your room was one you not so much dreaded, but were blatantly unprepared for. He was walking the line between saying nothing and everything all at once, his motions slow but certain, a predatory instinct beneath the skin of civilization.

From where you were seated, your back was to him, and after hearing the door open and close behind him, you felt one of his hands slide around your waist, the other brushing at your collarbone. His lips were soft and careful when they pressed up against your neck, and you couldn’t help but sigh into his touch the closer he came to you.

“I haven’t seen nearly enough of you today,” he purred into you, each word feeling like a step in the wrong direction. But how could you possibly say that? And the more he moved down, the more certain you were that you knew where this was going, and a chill ran down your spine in a sort of natural reaction to your nervousness.

Caught up in your thoughts, you hadn’t expected him to notice it, especially being caught up in motions driven more by instinct than logic. But he looked up, the gold of his eyes piercing through the darkness and casting a glow out of your peripherals. And when you turned to look at him, you couldn’t read his expression. Initially, you had feared it would be one of disappointment, or possibly even bordering on anger, as if you were denying him something he needed to survive. But it was neither, and somehow, it made you worry even more.

“You’re… afraid.” It was a simple statement, and not one that was entirely untrue. But his voice, the hesitation between the words, his eyes less dilated than they had been moments ago, they all told you that his definition of the word was far different from yours.

“No, I’m… I’m not afraid, I’m…” You struggled to find an explanation, a way to dodge what you hoped to never have to discuss. And as you watched the concern in his expression mix with curiosity, you found the supposedly “uncontrollable” instinct pass into nothing more than a transparent afterthought, and you were comforted. If only for the moment.

“I’ve never… done this…” you admitted finally, the tension within you failing to release even after you said it. “I don’t even know if I want to… Not yet, at least. But I know you need my help and I… I wish there were some way I could, but I just… don’t think I can…”

The hardest part was over. So why did you feel worse? For a moment, he was unresponsive, his face unchanging and figure unmoving. It allowed ripples of concerns to pass through your mind, realizations that there were other options for him that simply didn’t involve you. If you couldn’t provide him with what he needed, there were others that could, others that were likely skilled in this sort of thing, others that could please him in ways that you wouldn’t. The moment lasted for only a few seconds, but your fears only grew, and led you to the conclusion that he could find in another what was insufficient in you.

Still, he smiled, gently, his concern remaining, and reached up to your face, tracing at your tensed jaw and smoothing the furrows in your brow that you hadn’t even known had formed.

“It’s alright,” he hummed, voice comforting and warm like the hand against your skin. “It isn’t the end of the world. I can handle it, I promise.”

Even with the insuring tone, the words struck you like a bolt of lightning and the possibilities that you had concocted leapt once more to the forefront of your mind, powerful enough to bring you to asking them directly.

“When you handle it… that means you’ll find someone else, doesn’t it? Someone that will help you… A-and you’ll get through this without me a-and I know that’s technically none of my concern, but-” It came out frantic, your eyes darting from one corner of the room to the next, avoiding his face and any confirmation that it might have given you.

“Starlight…” he said, almost in a whisper. “Who said anything about me asking elsewhere? Why would you think I would do that?” His head tilted forward, a silent request for your gaze to fall to his. You obliged, albeit hesitantly.

“I’ve read about this… Your kind, going through cycles like this. All of it. It sounds like a necessity for you to follow through with any… urges that come with it.” You searched him for any agreement or denial as you spoke, seeking comfort in your uncertainty. There was none. “If I can’t help you… it stands to reason that you would seek help elsewhere.”

There were many reactions from him that you were expecting. The laugh that came afterwards was not one of them. “Clearly, I have not been doing my job well enough,” he said brightly. “It’s true, this is a… relatively difficult time for me to be going through, and should I let my guard down at any moment, I might be prone to more instinctive actions rather than partaking in much needed self-control. But that doesn’t mean I can’t handle whatever that brings, and it certainly does not mean that I will find myself in the midst of anyone who isn’t you.”

He took your silence as consideration, and continued, smiling as he watched your tension slowly melt away. “You are the only person I would ever wish to be with, whether you choose to do this or not. It doesn’t matter. That doesn’t make you any less mine.”

“You wouldn’t go to another? Even if it means you’ll have to control this forever?”

He stood, leaning over you and placing a careful kiss on the top on your head, still holding your face in his hands.

“Never.”

[timelordthirteen]

Desperate Souls 1/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit

Summary: A broke and heartbroken Belle French comes to an agreement with Mr. Gold to do a little modeling, just for him, in exchange for the money she desperately needs, but it isn't long before they both realize they've made a deal they didn't understand. Based on this prompt.

Chapter Summary: Belle makes a depressing discovery and considers her options.

Notes: OKAY. Here we go. Chapter 2 is almost done, but everything was getting stupid long and in spite of my plan I had to break it up. The entire story is all fully outlined now, but I make zero promises about my ability to keep it updated because I'm the worst. In total it will be anywhere from 10 to 15 chapters.

[AO3]

Belle stared at the paper in her hands.

$37.23

That was all that was left in the account. She staggered and then dropped down onto the old sofa. Her heart was thumping in her chest, her face felt hot, and her vision blurred. The page fluttered away, sliding over the coffee table to fall off the edge and onto the floor on the other side. The corner of the paper fluttered in the air from a heating vent in the floor, and she watched it for a long moment before her head dropped to her hands, palms pressed to her face as tears stung her eyes.

Her heart, her hopes, her money; Garrett Gaston had taken everything.

Well, almost everything. Apparently, she still had thirty-seven fucking dollars and change left. She shook her head and laid back against the cushions, breathing slowly. Calming down was step one, step two was figuring out a logical plan to fix things. Most of the regular monthly bills: car payment, cell phone, and utilities, had already been deducted before Garrett had a chance to clean out their shared account. That left whatever was on the credit card and the rent to pay. She let out a short, humorless laugh, and sat up. There wasn’t much on her Visa, some books she ordered from Amazon last month and her Netflix subscription. Even if there was more she could get away with making minimum payments if she had to and eat the interest until she got back on her feet. The rent was a whole other story.

Mr. Gold didn’t do minimum payments, but he did do late fees and interest.

There was also her promise to her father. Moe French was always just barely making ends meet, and she had agreed to loan him some money to buy extra stock for the flower shop ahead of Valentine’s Day, something she had done last year as well. That holiday always put the shop in the black for a while, and she hadn’t been concerned that she wouldn’t get her money back. Now she was wondering if she would also need a loan of some kind just to keep a roof over her head.

Maybe she’d even have to move back in with her father.

Belle blinked, letting the tears roll down her cheeks, leaving trails through her makeup. Living with Moe was not an option, not if she wanted to maintain any semblance of a relationship with him, which left her with few choices. She pushed to her feet, wiping at her face with her hand as she crossed the small living room to pick up the bank statement. Her eyes immediately went to the top of the page.

Beginning balance…$4,737.23

The statement crumpled in her hand, her fingers squeezing it into a tight ball, digging the sharp edges of the folded paper into her palm before she spun on her heel and threw it across the space. It smacked against the door to the bathroom. She followed it up by yanking the ring off her left hand and flinging it in the same direction. It made a satisfying ping as it careened off the doorknob and rattled to the floor.

Rage fueled her as she stomped through the apartment, snatching up the handful of things her now very ex-fiance had left behind before he fucked off to Mexico with a woman who wasn’t her, taking all of her money with him. She felt like an idiot for agreeing to sign Garrett onto her account before they were married, but in the moment it had made sense to pool their funds. They were starting their new life together, supposedly, and he made a point of saying he wanted to help pay for the wedding.

Belle and her father didn’t have much, and from the outside it seemed like Garrett was far better off financially. He had a decent job selling insurance, a nice car, nice clothes, and his parents were very well off real estate agents in Boston. Or at least that was what he had told her. She had never met them, and that, combined with the fact that he had yet to make any deposits into their now shared account, told her all she needed to know. Garrett Gaston was a lying asshole, and for all she knew his parents could be dead or have disowned him. It was clear he had used her, though she wasn’t sure the year long charade was worth the four thousand-seven hundred dollars he’d stolen from her.

She let out a ragged breath and ran her hands through her hair. A hooded sweatshirt with a rip in the front pocket, a paint splattered t-shirt, a pair of work boots that had seen better days, a phone charger, and a mismatched pair of socks lay in a pile on the sofa. Everything else he’d taken with him, including half the hangers in the closet. He must have crammed it all into the same large suitcase and duffle bag he’d used to move in just three months ago. She wondered if he’d had it all planned before then, or if it was a spur of the moment decision. When had he met this other woman? Had he cared about her at all, ever?

Belle sniffed loudly and rubbed her nose. She refused to shed any more tears over Garrett, and looked around the room for anything she might have missed. A thought hit her then, and she hurried into the kitchen, took one of the chairs from the small table by the window, and used it to reach up on top of the fridge. Her heart sank when she felt nothing but dust. He’d even taken her emergency fund, mostly made up of spare change and small bills shoved into an old jar. She wasn’t sure how much was in it, but it had to be a couple hundred dollars. That brought the total to almost five thousand.

Deflated and exhausted, she climbed down off the chair, and placed it back at the table. Then she walked back into the living room and briefly contemplated setting Garrett’s things on fire. There was a burn barrel in her father’s backyard that he used for yard waste. Maybe she could invite Ruby and Ashely over for a bonfire, and roast marshmallows that they imagined were ex-boyfriends.

That thought made her smile, but a few seconds later, she sighed and reluctantly went to pick up the bank statement and engagement ring. Being angry might make her feel better temporarily, but it wouldn’t solve any of her current problems. Unfortunately, neither would anything Garrett left behind, which were clearly items he no longer cared about and which had no value. At least she’d been wearing the ring when he packed up and left, or he likely would have taken that as well.

She went into the bedroom and sank down on the end of the bed. The mattress dipped and the frame creaked, yet another reminder of her less than stellar financial state. A couple of weeks ago, they’d talked about getting new furniture after they were married, in particular, a bed, and Belle rolled her eyes at the memory. She put the engagement ring back in its box on her dresser, and decided to take a shower. As the hot water ran down over her neck and shoulders, she made a mental list of what she needed to do, and felt calmer after she was done.

After drying off and changing into some comfortable clothes, she shoved Garrett’s belongings into a trash bag and set it by the door to take down to the dumpster in the morning. Then she sat down with the little notebook she kept in her purse and a pen, and started writing out her expenses for the next month. By the time she was done, and after considering the amount of her usual paycheck, the total she would at the end of next month was...fifty four dollars.

She fell back against the sofa and blew out a breath. There was no way to make the math come out any better. Rent included the usual utilities, but there was food, her cellphone, car insurance, and those incidental costs of existing like laundry detergent and toilet paper and probably a hundred things she’d end up running out of next week. It felt like life was out to spite her. The cushion she had worked so hard to build up was gone, as was the paycheck that had just deposited. Garrett probably waited until Thursday just for that reason, to squeeze just a little bit more out of her and make her ruin complete.

She got up and went back into the bedroom. The ring box seemed to be mocking her as she reached for it, and she flipped it open and scowled down at the princess cut diamond. It was about one carat in size, flanked by two smaller diamonds, which gave the ring a total weight of about one and half carats. It was huge as far as engagement rings went, and she supposed that was more of Garrett showing off money he didn’t actually have. The truth was she didn’t care for it at all, the squared off princess cut being her least favorite, and the set of three gems gave it a bulk and gaudiness that wasn’t her style. But it was what he had picked out and proposed with, and because of that she made herself like it. The band was rose gold, her favorite, which was at least one thing he managed to remember about her.

Belle snapped the box shut and shook her head. The ring had to be worth something, and though there was only one place in town she could take it she was confident that Mr. Gold would give her a fair price. He had always been fair, even if he often came off as cold and eccentric. She’d never had a problem with Gold, though she didn’t really know him that well either. A few times she had gone out of her way to try to be nice and talk to him, but he seemed annoyed and eventually she gave up. She was friendly and polite when she saw him, not just because he was her landlord, or because we wielded some strange power over most of the citizens of Storybrooke, but because she sensed he was someone who didn’t have a lot of kindness in his life.

She set the ring down and yanked open the bottom dresser drawer. Inside was a small collection of what could only be described as ugly Christmas sweaters, leftover from the annual holiday parties that Granny would throw at the diner. Those were taken out and set aside. Beneath them was something that made Belle frown all over again, a pile of silk and lace, with a few price tags caught up on each other. It was the pile of lingerie that she’d been reserving for her wedding and honeymoon.

The sting of tears made her blink and she felt her earlier anger bubbling up again. She knelt down in front of the drawer and pulled all of it out, throwing it behind her on the bed. Then she set about separating it, untangling tags and eye hooks, and pairing up the things that went together. She hadn’t worn any of it yet, but the items with tags had been purchased too long ago to return, never mind that she had probably thrown out the receipts weeks ago. It wasn’t designer stuff or anything, but it had to be worth something, so she folded it all into a neat stack and placed it on top of the dresser. Then she set the ring box on top and resolved to take all of it to Gold’s shop tomorrow.

None of it would be missed.

[jarofrebuke-transcripts]

Jar of Rebuke Episode 1 Unofficial Transcript

Season 1 Episode 1: Pilot

INTRO

The following audio recording is classified documentation for Case [audio distortion] with the Enclosure. Unauthorized access to this information will lead to immediate intervention. Progress further if proper clearance has been given.

JARED

Dr. Daman has suggested that I start an audio journal of some kind, something outside of my therapy sessions to help me track my progress or whatever. Considering I don't have much of anything that's mine anymore, she suggested that this might actually be a good way to reclaim some of my individuality. Maybe talking about what I do know of myself might help me remember more. So I guess I'll start with what I know. My name is Dr. Jared Hel. I'm a field researcher for the Enclosure. I specialize in studying the particularly dangerous creatures around here. For some reason, no matter their effect on others, nothing is permanent on me. Gods, the amount of times I've died this last year is probably more than I should ever care to admit. I guess it's a blessing in disguise though, it's job security, for one thing. A scientist who can't die no matter how dangerous the entity he's studying? I think I'm set. Sure, I may bounce back from death with a few more scars but they're relatively healed up and I'm rarely ever in much pain when I wake up. Though, to be fair, if the Enclosure just left these creatures alone I’m sure this wouldn't even be an issue in the first place, but no... they just gotta meddle.

I started working at the enclosure, what, two years ago? Though I've really only been on the field for less than a year. Apparently, I worked at a different research site for some other organization before that but I don't really remember anything from before two years ago. I supposedly transferred here to research a particularly dangerous subject, the one that... um... well the one that killed my team. And me, I guess. The most frustrating thing is the lack of remembering- I don't remember any of their names, their faces, nothing. I had to relearn absolutely everything and no matter what I relearn I never remember. It's so infuriating knowing that there's a whole childhood and more that I have yet to recollect anything from. I feel so left out of reminiscent conversations, you know? Well of course you know, I'm practically talking to myself here. All I know of myself before the incident is what was on my work file- top of my class graduate from IU, but I don't remember a damn thing about my time there. Apparently there's a lot of fields around there, though I guess that's not too different from the towns around here. Born and raised in those corn fields, according to my records. No documented family to speak of. But from what other folks in the lab have shared about their families- maybe I’m not missing out on too much.

When asked about getting in touch with the folks from the other facility that I worked at they didn't seem to think that it would be too helpful. Hell, how would they even know who to put me in touch with? Wasn't like they would have documented my friends or anything. So again, nothing. Story of my damn life. And of course there's Todd. Oh I’m sorry, Dr Todd Carmen. He's currently head of operations at the enclosure. He's, uh, I'll say he's a character. Not as unique as he thinks he is but certainly not boring, but just because something isn't boring doesn't mean that it's entertaining. He has a fashion sense that I would have never personally considered wearing, but um that shade of orange with his pale complexion? Simply bold choices in my opinion. But I'm sure he'll get himself sorted out someday. Besides all that though I guess it's not too bad. Job security with benefits- apparently a lot of jobs don't offer health insurance. Though with our line of work it's kind of necessary, to keep us alive.

Uh, what else do I know? The Enclosure is an organization based out in the middle of absolute nowhere that researches the various anomalies, but really only bothers with the particularly dangerous ones. Like, really dangerous ones. I mean bigfoot, mothman, that sort of stuff they really just leave to their own devices for the most part. Sure they hurt and even I guess sometimes kill people, but not a lot of people, and enough people already know about those things to not really hide them away now. Wichton is like two hours from any other town. It's guised as a farming town. Uh well no, it is a farming town but the enclosure has taken it as its guise. Most of the facilities are underground, deep underground. They paid off all the townsfolk back when they were building to not ask questions. And considering they built it during a massive economic depression, no one asked questions, the townsfolk took the money. But there's still some circulating rumors about us to this day, of course. As long as we keep the particularly dangerous creepy crawlies underground with us they've got no reason to worry too much. Sure, sometimes things sneak out and make weird noises in the fields at night but country folk are superstitious folk, and if nothing else it's what these people have known all their lives. Suspicious lights, weird noises and mutated deer don't even faze these people. The Enclosure picks its battles when it decides what to tackle, that's for damn sure. Not like they're an international brand or anything, they only have the resources to stick to these neck of the woods, and with all the anomalies in these parts, not really surprised that they settled here. Been here for nearly 100 years and have very little idea why it's such a supernaturally charged area. Some say it might be the fact that folks are so superstitious that it basically invites the energy here. But others think there's a reason, but it ain't my department to figure that out. The hardest part of the job is getting things into the facility. But sometimes the hot shots up top decide to just have us study those things from afar since taking them out of their established locations seems impossible. So many ladies in gray and white dresses all over the place, we can't exactly make a support group for them here or anything! Not when they're out busy haunting dunes or lakes or crying by the side of the road or whatever. Not really hurting anyone all that much, so they've mostly just been left alone. We keep tabs, but we also don't always interfere. Oh and being the sacrificial lamb is a bit annoying, but I bounce back quickly enough. Death has gotten less disorienting over time, but no less annoying.

What did I do today? Well... I had a shorter day, shift-wise, so I went in at like 6 a.m, then got out around one-ish. I was supposed to leave closer to noon but I ended up having to stop at Dr. Rahal’s office for a bit for my headaches. They've been getting worse and we don't really know why. At least they come and go in waves, so I get some peace at times. It's always nice to see Dr. Rahal though, he's been the nicest to me since I started at this place, from what I can remember at least. He's one of the Enclosure physicians who I've been seeing. From anything to work related injuries that aren't too severe to these headaches. I swear I've never met a guy in my life who can smile so genuinely and be so sincerely happy over just about anything. It'd honestly be annoying if it weren't so sincere and if he also weren't so genuinely nice. He's really trying to help with these headaches but medicine doesn't really ever help and the medical scans showed nothing that would indicate any issue. I mean, not that they let me see the medical scans. I guess I wouldn't understand them anyways, even if they did let me.

Dr. Rahal thinks that it's likely stress so that takes us back to therapy with Dr. Daman. Had a session after work, which was when she suggested that I really start this up. She's suggested it before but I kind of dismissed the idea until today. She made a very good point- what's the harm in doing it? I mean, it can't make the headaches worse and even if it doesn't help me remember anything, maybe getting things off my chest could help in some way. Therapy was uneventful, not like much happens in a week, just the usual work stuff mostly. Though I have started going out after work a bit more often, even if it's just to a local shop or to grab a bite to eat. Dr. Daman suggested a few months back that I socialize a bit more, and it's been kind of nice. Weird, but nice. I've mostly stuck to myself outside of work, honestly. Well, besides those community events that you're basically ostracized if you don't attend or you get bombarded with those calls of “where were you last night? We were so worried about you, are you okay?”, even if you don't remember giving them your number. I like to go to a restaurant in town called the Royal Cow, they make the best in-house ice cream. They built it to look like one of those red farm houses which matches most of the buildings in town, but their mint chocolate chip ice cream is basically the best ice cream I've ever had. They also make really, really good sugar cream pie. Get it when it's still fresh, it's a little warm, melts in the mouth. I mean it basically cures any hankering for a sweet tooth. So that's what I ordered- a fresh slice of sugar cream pie. But that was my dessert. They do also have some pretty good not-sweet foods. Their lunch menu is alright but their breakfast food is really where it's at. And they do that breakfast all day thing, so I got their breakfast platter which is really, really good food.

On my way home, I bumped into Darius. He's the son of some local farmers in town. His dads have an apple orchard, on top of everything else. The Enclosure actually keeps tabs on their farm, because no matter what his dad John plants, apples always grow. I mean no matter what John plants. He could plant pumpkin seeds in the fall but no apple trees are gonna spring up and I'll be damned if those aren't the best apples. I mean sometimes crab apples grow instead, he can't really control what kind of apples grow, but John has found a way to make crab apples into really good apple pies and ciders and stuff. I've heard they make good jams and jellies, but he perfected a crab apple pie. He said it's “just a lot of love” but I think there's something with those apple trees. But again, not my department to figure it out. Darius and I made small talk. The weather, mostly. So mostly just complaining about how it wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't so humid or if we just had a nice breeze, but the shade does help. He always makes excuses to talk to me. I'm not complaining, but that does seem to be a thing around town is everyone makes excuses to talk to everybody. Like the one time that Holly stopped me in the middle of the road to chat when we were passing each other. It's a community norm, I guess, but Darius always wants to talk again. I'm not complaining, he's a really nice conversational partner we can chat about just about anything with certain obvious restrictions. He knows I work at the Enclosure, but folks in town seem to think it's some hoity-toity but shady government job. I don't really think we're tied to the government, per se, but whatever lie they've told the towns is just what I stick with. Whether or not they believe that is entirely another story. He knows I'm a scientist, but he thinks i'm more of an environmental natural scientist instead of a supernatural scientist. I guess whether or not he believes that is an entirely other story too, but we don't really talk about work much. On my end I don't bring it up and while he does talk about working on the family farm from time to time, especially because they expect for him to take over, he tries to find other things to talk about. He's gone back to school recently. They recently in town set up a sort of trade school, I guess, where if anyone's considered a master in town they can teach classes to teach other people in whatever skills they have to share. Seems Darius is taking a bit of a Home Ec class, I guess, sewing and cooking and things like that. He said that he's great with his hands in the field but he really wants to round out his hand skills. He then awkwardly chuckled after that but I don't understand why. I mean it's completely respectable to want to be able to stitch up your own clothes or actually have a nice dinner besides the reheated leftovers left on your doorstep or to know what to do when your microwave catches fire. Honestly, I don't really know what all they teach in those classes. I'd never even heard of something like a Home Ec class until Darius told me about it. I wonder if I ever took one. If i wasn't so busy with work I would actually look into taking classes. I like to learn and Darius even said that he'd be more than happy to help me with anything if I needed it which is nice. But I'm a really fast learner. I actually get bored a lot because of it. I don't see why anyone would need five months or years of training or educating. No, I can see why. I also just know that I am the anomaly. When I forgot everything and had to relearn how to read I was at a 10th grade reading level. By what, just a few weeks? And then I was at college level again in a matter of a month. But even though I was relearning stuff quick I never remembered anything. I never remembered books I've read before the incident, I never remembered learning how to read the first time, I just was quickly relearning how to read. I don't even know if you would consider remembering how to read. I mean I'm never remembering anything. I don't even remember the creature that I was working with in the incident. And no one will tell me anything, because they said they want me to remember organically, or something like that. They said they feared something like a trauma, whiplash? I really don't understand it and it just pisses me off more than anything. But Dr. Daman won't budge. No one will let me look over any files of the incident or files on the other lab techs who died. They slapped this key around my neck and said, “here, to keep your brain in check. Oh, you literally remember nothing? Well tough luck, see this therapist and see what happens!” Ugh. They said if it weren't for my weird powers then the incident would have killed me too. They said they don't know why I have this ability to rebound from death like it nearly never happened but they sure are willing to use my ability for work.

Right, the key. Uh, when I woke up the first thing the doctors did was have me wear it around my neck. It’s on some sort of sturdy red cord. I've never taken the thing off in years. You would think that it may have faded a bit or that the cord would have worn, but no. Cord is still sturdy and the key is just as shiny as the day they gave it to me, which isn't that shiny, it was a bit tarnished already, but hasn't gotten any more tarnished. It's supposed to keep my brain in check after the effects of, well, the incident. Dr. Daman says that if I take it off, I risk unlearning absolutely everything that I've learned in the last two years. I don't know why the key is supposed to be the thing that does this, but this is the only time that death has ever made me lose everything, so I figured what's the harm in wearing it. Not like it hurts to wear or anything.

Darius has asked me about it before though. Not when we first met or anything but after multiple times of running into each other he finally asked. I get asked about it a lot but I just say that it's a familial trinket and they tend to just leave it be. But darius had asked after we'd shared a few drinks at a local bar and even though I have a bit of a high tolerance for alcohol and never stay drunk long, he seemed to ask at just the right moment for me to open up a bit more, I guess. I said it's a comfort item, which I guess isn't exactly the whole truth, I actually honestly hate this thing. A constant reminder of all the things that I've forgotten. But I guess there's slight comfort and knowing that because of this key everything that I've relearned will stick. They say it's important to understand all that you don't know, but I know all too well that I've got at least 20 years of things that I don't remember. But hey, with this key I guess i can rebuild that. I must have seemed uncomfortable about this question where he was satisfied with that answer because Darius let it go after that, but I catch him staring at it sometimes. He's asked what I know about skeleton keys, and all things considered I didn't know much, at least didn't remember. He told me that his dads both told him about the powers that keys hold, not just to lock things but even more importantly to unlock them. That a skeleton key could lock or unlock any door to a given building, no matter what other keys people had, commonly used by cleaners and inn owners and stuff like that. He really seems fixated on the idea and I guess the symbolism is a bit striking with my current situation considering... whatever. The less he knows the better. It would be nice to talk to someone outside of the enclosure about more personal stuff from time to time but I can't go around spilling secrets.

Right, my day. Uh, lunch, talked with Darius, uh... after about 15 minutes of “all right I should get going”-s and taking a few steps apart, starting to have talked about other topics and repeating the process, I finally started home. On my way home I drove past some corn fields and various other pastures. The Enclosure gave me a house near the edge of town because after a year of rigorous relearning I didn't want to live in their communal housing anymore. It's not too far from Darius's family orchard and farm which is nice. Nicest farm in the area, in my opinion. There's no real rivalry between the farmers, at least nothing too intense. But something about those trees in the distance out of my window is really relaxing. All the cattle I passed on my way home had moved to face the same direction near the fences and stared into the distance mindlessly grazing. That and the clouds rolling in were very strong indicators that there was going to be a heck of a storm tonight. I didn't listen to the weather announcement this morning but the sky's only gotten darker now so i'm ready to sleep like the dead tonight. But when I was pulling into my driveway I saw something rustling in the bushes by my front door. I thought maybe it was a squirrel or a rabbit or something but then two tiny hands parted the leaves and I saw one of those black-eyed children just sitting there staring at me. I normally only see them at night. I guess it was waiting for me to come home to loiter on my doorsteps or something, I don't know. When I got out of the car I was surprised when it actually climbed out of the bush and just rigidly stared at me with those lifeless black eyes. I got my stuff out of my car and made my way to the door, but it was kind of standing in the way. I just slid on by it with a muttered apology and slipped inside before I could start whispering requests for entrance. Never making that mistake again. No matter how much I want to let them in my house got all sorts of messed up last time and I got a heck of a scolding at work when they found out. I don't shoo them away, but I don't let them in anymore. It was really weird, they normally only come knocking or waiting by the sides of the road at night, I had never seen one in the middle of the afternoon. Once I got settled in I pulled out a book, a crossword book I was gifted at the last community bonfire. I blow through these things really fast but I really like them, so Christine gave me like five of them, all different, claimed that she found the most difficult ones that she could find, which is really sweet. She even wrote little notes on the inside cover of each of them so I've ended up actually keeping them when i'm done so I can reread her notes when I need a little pick-me-up. Whether a crossword book or a little box of treats she always writes uplifting notes and anecdotes inside any gifts she gives anyone, all signed with the most beautiful cursive- “with love, Christine Torres”. She really mothers everyone in town, at least that's what I've noticed. This one is a real toughy, which I like. That's mostly what I've been up to since I got home. I decided that I'd take a break from doing, well, this. Dr. Daman was adamant about me giving it a shot so here we are. Me, myself and I. Oh sorry, hold on, work email. (Whispered: who am i even apologizing to?) Well now, wait a minute. A new lab partner? Dr. Gia Castillo. Why the hell did they give me a new lab partner? I guess I'm meeting her in the morning. I hate it when Todd pulls this, but I’ve got no say in the matter. The usual. But I hate sudden change.

I'm tired, I'm reheating some food Mrs. Weddington gave me and going to bed. I can hear the thunder starting to get louder and that kid outside tapping on my door so I guess I should try and get some sleep. Guess I'll talk to you later? This is actually kind of nice, saying whatever I want without worries. (little laugh) I'm already dreading tomorrow. Well this is Dr. Jared Hel, signing off, I guess.

[tapping sounds, and sounds of thunder, as we fade into the outro]

OUTRO

Jar of Rebuke is written and produced by Casper Oliver, who is also the voice of Dr Jared Hel. The intro is read by Vanessa Rosengrant, and credits are read by Ashley Craft, who has also created the podcast official graphics. Music was created by Luke Menniss, spelled m-e-n-n-i-s-s, who you can find and support on Bandcamp, Spotify and Twitch. Find us on Twitter, Instagram and anywhere else you get your podcast fix for more Jar of Rebuke and also to get updates on upcoming official merch for our show. Support projects by this crew on Patreon to further other queer-lead projects and get neat perks. All donations are appreciated and will grant further clearance to special Jar of Rebuke content. You can also make one-time donations on Ko-fi.

[c-atm]

Halloween tradition

Welcome, hunters! Defenders! Protectors! Human and not! Singled and partnered! Welcome to the Halloween Hunter Horde!" The master of ceremonies, a large, snow skinned person dressed in a ringmaster attire, yelled from their balcony perch to the crowd below, getting cheers and lift of wine glasses in their honor.

As was the tradition of the 'Hunters Horde.'

An annual party for hunters by the 'powers that be,' as the hunters recognized them. Truthfully, they were those who provided hunters help and assistance through various means.

Shops to exchange gems for standard currency, buy gear and accessories, and even buy domestic items. They provided information on hunts, places for hunters to exchange information, and settled disputes, and every year they did this.

Why?

Demon hunting is a lucrative business.

For the 'powers that be.'

Dressed in a purple-and-red, tattered coat with a frilly shirt, pink vest, pair of black pants, leather boots with metal soles and toes, a pair of gloves, a diamond necklace; Steven sighed as he looked at the drink in his hand, a cranberry wine, very sweet and tangy, the velvet red color was pleasing to the eye, but it wasn't his taste. Symbolic of his feelings towards this event.

There are a million things he wished he could be doing right now. All involving his firey mistress right now. Hunting with her, trick-or-treating with her, which was fun last year, dressed as Mirai Kuriyama and him, Akihito Kanbara from beyond the boundary.

"Simply adorable, she was." He mused, thinking of how excited she was to do something so child-like. How her face glowed with pride every time they were stopped for a picture or got a statement on how cute their couple cosplay was. The times when she acted in character, reciting the characters' infamous 'unpleasant' line as she adjusted her red frame glasses. She was entirely in character that year...a little to perfect.

"Still cannot believe she learned a bit of enchanting magic to create a blood blade," He muttered with a loving smile, "though she's also done one who learned demon transformation magic, so in retrospect maybe it's not insane." He shook his head; he was talking to himself, literally as violet was out on the floor, either watching and dancing with Ames or about to cause havoc with Ames. Either would be fine at this moment.

"Where is she?" He wondered as he looked around the room of their peers, hoping to see if his lady was still present, as she arrived before him from her day job or if she completely bailed and went home, leaving him alone in this...Networking event.

"No...she's still here. Just hard to tell with these senses diluting glyphs in place." Steven whispered, but he still felt her presence in the manor, scattered but there. 'Concerning in a way. Though, doubt anyone here would do anything that might put them in opposition with the 'powers that be.'' Steven thought to himself.

Still, he was expecting more... chaotic entertainment with a name like a hunter's hoard, so far everyone was tamed-chatting, dancing...info gathering.

"Well, if it isn't the flames witch's devil." A female voice said from the left of him.

He turned his head to see a demon hunter that they've come across a few times. Snow blonde hair, dark skin, voluptuous form dressed as a sexy witch, a small split skirt, tight corset top, purple silk cape, and black witches hat.

"Sarah did your 'nun' drag you here as well," Steven smirked as the witch nodded with a sigh.

"Yup, my sweet demoness thought it would be fun, plus networking is my forte, supposedly." She rolled her eyes while crossing her arms.

"Aren't you the top manager in an electronic insurance firm?"

"Aren't you a bisexual in a seemingly heterosexual relationship."

"Well, damn, who shit in your wine." Steven yielded with his hands up.

"No, I'm sorry." She sighed, "Just being here and not being able to feel Alicia's presence....Being so close to... ' Them.'

Steven nodded. He got it; the 'powers that be' are strangely intimidating, especially since no one knows precisely who they are...That, coupled with the sense dampening spell, would put any right partner on edge.

"Did you come with Alicia?"

"Strange question." Sarah arched her eyebrow, " but yeah...Of course."

"Hmmph. Well, at least you saw your partner."

Sarah's eyes widened at that before she smirked. "You didn't see trailblazer , huh..or what she was wearing."

"You have?" Steven took a sip of wine.

"Oh yeah." She tittered, "Actually, her and Alicia were sticking close to each other, talking with some other hunters."

Steven released a breath he didn't know he was holding. He was more relaxed now that he knew she was at least with a trusted ally. A demoness, yes, but Alicia's a fan of his firey lady and has been one since the azurite case; Where she saved the duo and a few others from a very oppressive spell. She's even the one that dubbed her 'trailblazer' for her aptitude with fire magic and her fierce attitude.

"So... How does my lady look?" His curiosity and enthusiasm in his voice.

"I can not say when you sound so ecstatic. It's like spoiling the climax of a movie."

"Fine, fine. I'll let myself be surprised. Can you at least tell me where you last saw her?"

Sarah was about to point left when it all happened. A body sailed across the sky, above the crowd, landing right between the two hunters.

Looking down, they saw the body was that a man with tan skin, a deep brown comb-over, and a broken, singed nose and cheek, dressed as speed racer; he groaned before losing consciousness.

"Where is that grabby little snake!"

A voice yelled within the crowd, a familiar voice.

A fiery voice.

Steven smiled as he watched the crowd all but part to give room to his blazing contractee as she marched her way through towards her victim and assailant, and his jaw dropped when he saw her.

She was dressed in a steampunk styled costume her consists of a purple and red-trimmed leotard with matching hot pants, a deep blue pleated skirt, black thigh-high socks, white boots, a pair of red mid-finger gloves, a headband, a pink diamond barrette, and ribbon around a lock of her hair. The costume, while not revealing, showed all her curves and brought both her charm and charisma to the surface.

"My Connie." He expressed in a daze getting her attention.

"Steven?" Her eyes expanded as she saw her partner, instantly forgetting the handsy little perv, in favor of her beloved demon embrace. Laughing as his hands found themselves at the curve of her back and her palms found his shoulder blades as she kisses his gem under his shirt. Getting a small shiver of appreciation.

She climbed out his arms, reluctantly to take a look at her partner in his outfit." So it's a costume party, and you came as a demon?" She teased, "a little on the nose there, don't you think."

"Ah, but you see, I'm now a love demon, all for you," he whispered, pulling her back into his hold.

"You gotta show me your credentials, later then."

She giggled, feeling his gentle lips on her shoulder. "So, you didn't say anything about my alchemist costume." She mumbled into his ear.

"Do I have to say how bewitching and tempting you are?" He teasingly admitted as he kissed her blushing cheeks.

"You just did, silly " She sighed, holding him close. She turned to Sarah and pointed toward the crowd, "Alicia's near the punch."

Sarah gave the two a grin before disappearing into the sea of people, leaving the two of them alone.

"So, having fun?" Steven asked, against her collar.

"Yea, it's been a blast." She started sarcastically, "talking shop, exchanging war stories and info about demons sighting called 'slashers'..." She sighed, "all while having people gawk at me with lewd eyes." She huffed.

"Well, you can't blame them. You make such an alluring alchemist." He moved his lips to her ear, "you'd have willing volunteers to experiment all across the land." His teasing cold breath tickled her ear, causing her to giggle.

[[More*]]

"Oh! no doubt," she carried on their play, nuzzling close. "Unfortunately, I have such a terrifying territorial terror as my partner. You'd chase them all away." She clicked her tongue in faux reprimand, kissing his temple. "Scientific succession stopped by my stingy Steven."

"I was yours first. Science can suck it."

"You're mine now."

"I'll be yours forever."

The earnest way he said it made her heart thumped and urged her to give him a tender kiss, humming throughout.

"Can we go somewhere more...Secluded, like.." She nodded her head towards the western wall, where there was a large enough balcony behind two glass doors, and no one was on it. Connie only giggled as Steven scooped her up and moved like a wisp of smoke towards their destination; unseen, and unnoticed by all.

They reappeared on the terrace almost immediately, Steven walking out of the smoke with Connie, still mid-laugh. He sat her down on her feet before watching her walk to the edge and sitting on top of it, facing him. "You'd catch me if I fall, right?"

"Of course, my lady. I am your partner." He smirked devilishly as he glided up to her, resting his hands beside her hips and his torso between her knees. Looking up at her somewhat mischievous face shining in the moonlight. "Are you planning a daring escape?" He teased.

"Actually, I might have...Sort of...Put one into action, already?" She confessed sheepishly.

"Huh?" Steven looked dumbfounded at his love. " What do you mean?"

"You'll find out."

"Does...does it have anything to do with that fool you laid out." He asked.

"Oh, gosh, no!" She exclaimed. "I put this into action, way before he grabbed my and Alicia's butt." She clarified, almost nonchalantly. She pulled him into a hold, feeling the rage from her best friend and partner, "No, we already handled it." She confirmed.

"But he..." Steven began only to be silenced by a small glare.

"It was nothing, my dapper demon. I promise. He touched and was punished for it..." she grimaced" Licia, just about ended his bloodline, if you catch my drift." She said, flexing her fingers as if she was holding something.

"Ooh." Steven breathed out, shaking his head." Still, wished that didn't occur."

"Yeah, cause only you can be perverse with me." She teased.

"Now, is it really perverse when it's with your lover, I prefer, intimate." He spoke in that devilishly dapper tongue that used to (and still at times) make her a blushing mess.

Connie, red face and eyes glowing by another emotional heat, chuckled. "Intimate, huh?" She pulled him closer.

"Yup." he rested his head on hers. "My actions are based on my love for you, my flame ."

"I never doubted that, my gem .." She chuckled. "Speaking of intimate...How long are you gonna keep your lady waiting?"

Steven didn't need anymore coaxing as they shared a deep kiss. Her hand holding his cheek, as he held her seat, her hot tongue twist, caress, and danced with his cooler one, creating a moment of warming love between the two. However, anyone else would see a small purple heart of flame around them.

Then a crash resounded from the inside along with the yells and laughter of Violet and Ames, causing general chaos.

"That's -chu- your -chu- plan?" He smirked through their kiss.

"Um -chu- hm !" She nodded, "let's go get us some candy -chu- get us a demon -chu- get a little hurt, -chu- and then spend the night dressing each other wounds, love demon. "

"Now, That's a plan fit for an alchemist." Steven said, deepening the kiss. " -CHU!- I missed you."

"I missed you too...Nothing like being able to sense you." She sighed as the kiss gain more depth.

-CRASH!-

" Let's not waste their hard work."

Steven smirked as he lifted his lady from the railing holding her in his arms, resuming their kiss as they sank into the sweet shadows that filled their flaming heart.

Off to spend their Halloween, their way.

---------;;;

For @meku95 Halloween contest

[hopefulfestivaltastemaker]

November 1, 2020

My weekly roundup of things I am up to. Topics include another update on my recovery, the Rare Earth Hypothesis, materials for renewable energy, climate change and dust clouds, and visions of the future revisited.

Update on Recovery IV

This past week has been good. My bedtime is moving later, now about 11:00, and I am down to 10 hours of sleep the past day. My “normal” is about 2:00 to 3:00 AM bedtime and 9 hours of sleep, so I am getting close to normal. I’ll have to decide if I want to hold back the late bedtime or go back to the way I was. I have a feeling it will be the latter. I’ve been taking fewer naps during the day as well.

I also got back to Urban Cruise Ship research, which was my main work duty before the stroke. Although I am not to full hours yet, I am back to the full range of job duties. There will be more on that following.

I am also planning on going back to the Orenco Station apartment this coming weekend. In the meantime my main goal is to get hold of the neurosurgery department at Kaiser, ask a few questions, and possibly refill one of the medications I am taking. Kaiser has been good for the most part, but I am getting frustrated with the amount of phone tag I have to do with them to get things done.

So far my total expense for the stroke has been $7900, which is exactly the same as my copay. I shudder to think how much it would be without the copay, but that’s what I’m paying for with insurance. I’m not sure if the copay covers what I spent at RIO; if not, then I have more expense coming. Still, the total expense has been less than I feared.

Rare Earth Hypothesis

This past week I read Ward and Brownlee’s Rare Earth book (freebie here). It’s a science classic, which had a major effect on how we think about the question of commonality of life throughout the universe, and it is a fascinating and accessible read. I recommend taking a look, especially to anyone interested in knowing more about Earth history.

That said, I do have a few modest criticisms of the book. Even though it was pitched at a general audience, I would have appreciated some more quantification of the likelihood of various events. For example, the authors assert at one point that an Earth analogue could no longer form because there isn’t enough uranium and thorium left to drive place tectonics. That may be true, but I think they should have provided the numbers on such a statement, as it is far from obviously true. There is a chapter dedicated to calculating the odds, but they offer an equation (analogous to the Drake Equation) without trying to fill in numbers. In the end, I am left with the sense that the Rare Earth Hypothesis is just that, a hypothesis, but not a quantitative statement.

A few elements of the book have not aged well. They make a few assertions about exoplanets in particular which have proven false. Ward and Brownlee assert that Earthlike planets (here defined narrowly as rocky planets roughly the size of Earth, orbiting a star roughly the size of the Sun, in the habitable zone) should be rare, but we now know from expolanet observation that such planets are almost as common as stars in the Milky Way. This point isn’t critical to the book, but it does make me wish there was an update. In the next few years, we should find from the James Webb telescope how common oxygen atmospheres are around Earthlike planets. If they’re common, that will refute another element of the Rare Earth Hypothesis, and if rare or non-existent, it would confirm an element.

My own thinking falls into line with the Rare Earth Hypothesis. My guess is that microbial life is common but “advanced” (plants and animal) life, let alone intelligence, is so rare that we should not expect to find it with present techniques. The book confirms that thinking. The main argument against the hypothesis, and Ward and Brownlee’s thesis, is that they only look at advanced life on Earth and thus ignore the myriad other pathways by which it may have arisen. That may be, but it is my sense that advocates of a common life thesis make many unprovable assertions of how life may have arisen.

In any event, it is an exciting time for astrobiology. The next few decades should give us some more answers, from James Webb and other sources. I’m very much looking forward to that.

Materials for Renewable Energy

Speaking on things that are supposedly rare, I got back to my Urban Cruise Ship work by looking at rare-Earth elements and other elements that may be barriers to renewable energy expansion.

My own sense, and I cited a couple sources to this effect, is that it won’t be a barrier. There are in fact barriers to a 100% renewable future, but availability of elements shouldn’t be one of them. I think it will be like the fears of platinum shortages when the catalytic converter was mandated. There was a temporary supply crunch, but then supply expanded to meet demand.

I think the same will happen with Rare Earths and other elements critical to renewable energy and electric vehicles. Modeling suggests that we will need about four times the Lithium and Cobalt, and several times the Neodymium and Dysprosium as well for permanent magnets for wind turbines. Miners should step up to the plate and provide what we need, and probably without the geopolitical conflict that some are fearing.

I didn’t look at every element that people are worried about. Copper, which especially will be needed for an expansion of transmission capacity, could be an issue as well.

Climate Change and Dust Clouds

My funder raised a question when I talked with him last: what role, if any, do interstellar dust cloud play in past ice ages? He noted that this was a common question, raised by Carl Sagan and others, back in the 1970s and 1980s but not one that we hear often now. To my knowledge, no one has confirmed or debunked the dust cloud/ice age question, so what is the present state of knowledge, and how relevant could dust clouds be for future climate predictions?

To be clear, I’m not questioning here the scientific view that the main cause of contemporary global warming is accumulation of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere. It would be my guess, though, that part of the reason for the fall-off of the dust cloud hypothesis is the perceived need to elevate CO2′s role and diminish the role of other factors, even in far past climate change.

That said, there is some relevant recent research. My friend Nick pointed out this paper from last year which posits that the breakup of an asteroid may have been a cause behind the snowball Earth event of the Ordovician. There is also this paper from 2005, arguing a similar thing.

The funder’s interest is specifically about future climate change, and whether it would be worthwhile to send small probes from the Earth to scout extraterrestrial dust for the purposes of predicting future climate change. I would also therefore want to know how fast dust clouds could operate, and what (if anything) is known about our nearby cosmic atmosphere.

Visions of the Future Revisited

Last week I mentioned three categories of the future as envisioned. My friend Nick again emailed me to mention that there is a much broader range of categories to be considered. In particular, when considering scope, we shouldn’t just think about human population but also think about distribution, e.g. on Earth and in space. One could imagine a future where human numbers are vastly extended beyond Earth, but on Earth shrunk to levels required merely to maintain monuments. Sustainability visions too often combine a reduced human population with greatly increased standards of living. For reasons I won’t belabor here, I think such a future is unlikely, but it is what many envision will happen and work toward.

As far as “scope” is concerned, there are several variables. Human humans and geographic extension (e.g. whether in space) are two of them. Overall technological prowess is another variable. Such variables are correlated but distinct.

Anyway, I wrote that section fairly quickly and meant it to be simple. Having a 2X2 matrix of scope and scale is simple, while hiding much of the complexity within those two variables.

[pollylynn]

Employer Fuckery: Welcome to the Club Called The Rest of US

Long. Boring. Personal. 

So . . . I've been part-time faculty at Employer #1 (which was Employer #2 at the time) since 2008 (well, continuously since 2011—I taught in 2008–2009, then didn't in 2009–2010 and they haven't been able to get rid of me since).

I teach both upper-level social sciences courses and I teach "first-year seminar," so I'm in two "sections," of the Liberal Arts department, none of which is in the mainstream of a visual arts school, but both of the sections I teach in are necessary aspects of institutional accreditation.

For most of my time there, I've been "year-to-year," as most part-time faculty are at most institutions (part of this story is about the completely not-standard-for-academia terms that Employer uses). I've had traditionally good relationships with my section/department heads, and I have consistently gotten classes, but for most of my time there, that's been a "handshake" agreement that could go away at any moment.

A few years ago, PT faculty secured "multi-year contracts," which introduced a little bit more certainty. In my particular case, the value was a bit abstract, because the MYC guaranteed only at least one class per academic year (I was, in general, teaching at least 4, often 5 with summer session), so having the security of one class per year was not particularly a concrete value add, but definitely a good thing for PT faculty in general.

Then in Fall of 2016, my very good department head (who is outgoing this summer—because there can always be MOAR terrible uncertainty) advised me to go through what can be charitably described as a bizarre Thunderdome  to . . . apply for the job I already had? At the time, this was a "promotion," to "Adjunct Assistant Professor" (now "Assistant Professor, Adjunct"). So I did this, and it came with a multi-year-contract (which I'd already qualified for previously, just by teaching consistently and not doing anything TOO egregiously wrong). And it did come with other benefits like the option for insurance, employer-matched retirement savings, etc. But not a ton of my life, post-Thunderdome changed in obvious ways.

I came up for re-evaluation in the fall?—or maybe it was last spring—by my now-problematic Social Sciences section head (always fun that arbitrarily, someone decides what section I belong to). This person is extremely—even correcting for an academic—bad at everything, but I did re-qualify for my MYC, and again, life proceeded as it has more or less proceeded.

Until yesterday when the PT representatives email us all to say that Adjuncts (remember, we are the "fancie,r" ranked part-time faculty with supposedly more security) are having their MYCs canceled. With that cancelation, we lose the assurance that if our classes don't run for some reason, we will get a "cancelation payment," but not the guarantee of another class or payment for that class. (Both of my fall classes are fully enrolled with double-digit waiting lists, but that doesn't meant that the school can't cancel them, and no one knows what actual enrollment might look like in the fall.) I will "get" a one-year contract, and if I were getting insurance through Employer (I don't), I wouldn't lose it (and I'm glad for my colleagues' sake, of course).

But here is the real kicker. Lecturers (who are not ranked, don't have access to insurance, and under their contract, would only get a "cancelation payment," not a guarantee of payment for a course) will still have multi-year contracts.

So . . . basically, we've all been demoted to sub-Lecturer positions? Also of note, the Provost, who is supposed to tell us this has still not told us this, though the President did—and I am not making this up—email all faculty at 4:55 PM the day before a 3-day weekend to say they had done an end run around faculty-shared governance and eliminated a bunch of staff positions.

This, for me, is not something materially dire. But, wow. It is the super shitty kicker to five months of being treated extra super shiftily. 

And we still do not even fucking know when they are going to start fall semester. Or how long fall semester will last. Or what format any given faculty member will be asked to teach in. 

[let-it-raines]

Unraveling the Thread

Returning home is never something anyone wants to do when they've been trying to leave for their entire life, but it seems to happen to most everyone. It's just not something Emma ever thought would happen to her. But after getting let go from her job and refusing to work in another office answering phones for the next ten years of her life, she moves back home to Storybrooke and has to deal with all of the loose threads that she left behind. 

It's easier said than done. She's still going to do it.

Rating: Mature

Found on AO3 | Here | 

A/N: Because I have a million other things to do, I obviously wrote a one-shot. I hope you guys enjoy the product of my lack of sleep 💕

Tagging my usual peeps: @resident-of-storybrooke @mayquita @wellhellotragic @captainsjedi @bmbbcs4evr @jennjenn615 @ekr032-blog-blog @kmomof4 @onceuponaprincessworld @thejollyroger-writer @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings @cs-forlife

Everything is exactly the same.

Granny’s diner still rests in the center of a strip of stores, the bright blue paint noticeably having been touched up lately to go with all of the other brightly colored stores that Storybrooke’s city council obviously thinks will pull in tourists when they inevitably roll into town each summer. If she remembers correctly, it does work. She worked as a waitress enough summers to know that her tips definitely increased once summer break started, and as much as she appreciated the money, she didn’t appreciate the people that were constantly taking her parking space or telling her that if she smiled more, she’d get more customers.

Assholes.

They would also make comments about her ass, and well, despite the fact that she has a damn good one, that’s a little thing call harassment.

It’s a miracle she never punched anyone.

There are already people filtering in and out of the diner despite it being only five in the morning on a Saturday, and she quickly drives by so no one will see her. She’s fine coming home to see her parents, but she doesn’t want to see anyone else. Not yet. Maybe later once she has a few shirts on hangers and a toothbrush in the bathroom, but not before that. She needs more time to mentally prepare herself to see everyone again. It’s only been since Christmas, but really, all she did for those three days was spend all of her time inside her parents’ living room eating sweets her mom had baked and watching old Christmas movies long into the night until even the streetlights outside turned off.

And this trip isn’t for three days. It’s for three months at least. Maybe more. She honestly has no idea, but when you get let go from the job you’ve had as investigator for auto insurance company for the past five years with nothing else lined up that actually pays the bills, there aren’t a lot of options. Living with her parents again wasn’t what she preferred, but she couldn’t take another job as a secretary or a phone operator trying to sell people weight loss pills that are probably pretty unhealthy.

Her dream job is obviously not an option.

She’s not sure if she has a dream job.

She used to want to be a cop like her dad, but that was when she was five and also wanted to be a ballerina in space. Her thoughts and wants weren’t exactly the most well thought through. And then she never really figured it out. Her parents put her on the fast track to going to college and getting a degree that would supposedly allow her to make more money and be able to get out of Storybrooke.

Considering her mom is a third-grade teacher on every committee board ever created and her dad is the sheriff, it’s surprising that leaving was ever an option.

And if she thinks about it, it really wasn’t. Yeah, she could leave for four years, get a degree, and then come back to work at a business in town that would have hired her regardless of her qualifications (nepotism is a thing). But that was the thing. She was always supposed to come back.

And seven years after leaving, she is.

Except she has no college degree.

She’s not even close to having one. She’s got a semester’s worth of credits in classes like English comp and pre-algebra and things she’s likely never going to use in her entire life. She’d made the Dean’s list at NYU that one semester too, but then, like the oldest story in the world, she’d met a boy.

She met a boy who was a few years older than her, infinitely wiser, and just as charming as she had ever known anybody to be. Neal was her entire world. He shouldn’t have been, but he was. Her mother spent her entire life talking about how love is the greatest gift in life, the greatest privilege, and how if Emma ever found it, she should hold onto it like her life depended on it.

What her mother didn’t tell her was that first loves are not always good loves, even if there’s the occasional exception.

In all fairness, Mary Margaret Nolan most likely doesn’t know that. She grew up as an only child in a small town and met the love of her life on the first day of sixth grade. The only love her mom has ever known has been her dad, and as wonderful as that as, as in love as her parents are, Emma’s learned that sometimes the lessons her mom taught her are not great lessons.

Exercise a few times a week, never pluck your eyebrows too thin, sure. Think that the first boy who tells you you’re pretty and who sleeps with you is the love of your life, not so much.

Because unlike her dad, Neal was not some standup guy who sticks around and lives by some kind of moral code that everyone should live by. Be kind to others, don’t murder someone, wash your hands after you go to the bathroom, et cetera. And it’s not that Neal was a murderer. God, she hopes not. It’s that he was a cheater who she left college for to move to Boston with because he convinced her that he could give her a better life than living in a cramped dorm room and spending her days studying. He was a cheater and also a thief, apparently fencing expensive jewelry and stolen goods to fund that better life, and she only found all of that out when she told him that she might be pregnant and he bolted in the middle of the night and the other woman who he was dating showed up at their apartment looking for him.

She found out the theft stuff later when she was nearly arrested because he tried to frame her for his crimes.

Newsflash. She wasn’t pregnant, and she sure as hell didn’t commit any crimes.

But she did give up her entire life, things that even though she wasn’t sure she really wanted, she had worked for. And as much as it’s taught her, as much as she’s changed because of it, she regrets ever leaving New York.

She regrets giving up her life because she was convinced that her love would last forever, and she would never need anything else.

It didn’t even last two years.

She never made it back to New York. She stayed in Boston, finding random jobs that would pay the bills until she got her job as the insurance fraud investigator and moved in with Anna and Elsa, two sisters who were going to freaking Harvard of all places. There she was barely scraping by, and she was roommates with people who went to Harvard. It worked, though. They were always busy studying or attending events, and she could slip in and out without really having to talk to them too much or explain why she was their age but decidedly a little lost.

Her parents weren’t talking to her at the time, and if her own parents weren’t talking to her, why would she want to talk to anyone?

But she did eventually talk to her parents again and talk to her roommates. She became friends with them actually, and even after they both graduated and moved away, she stayed close with them. With everything that has gone on in her life, she’s at least thankful that she’s gotten to be close with Anna and Elsa.

When she lost her job, Elsa had offered to let her live with her in New York, and even though it’s a big city, she couldn’t go back.

Which is why she’s here pulling into her parents’ driveway, the two of them visible in the kitchen through the front window. They’re likely drinking coffee and talking about all of their plans for today even though it’s Saturday and the perfect day to stay home. Or they’re talking about her. She’d bet that they’re talking about her.

She’s a fascinating conversation piece.

And that’s why she takes at least fifteen minutes to regulate her breathing and prepare herself for all of the fawning that her parents are going to do.

That her mom is going to do.

She loves her, but she’s not nearly as good as her dad at understanding that Emma needs her space sometimes.

It’s exactly thirty five steps from her car to the front door, and she’s barely inside the entryway when her mom is wrapping her in a hug so tight that all of the air escapes her legs and her ribcage bruises a little bit. It’s too much, but she wraps her arms around her mom’s waist and holds on as tightly as she can regardless.

“I’m so glad you’re here, sweetie.”

“Me too,” she lies. “Why are you guys up this early?”

“Because we’re waiting for you,” her dad answers her, flashing her a grin before he’s hugging her too, cupping the back of her head with his palm. He smells like the cologne he’s been wearing for her entire life, and that feels good too. “How was your drive? What’d you do? Not sleep?”

“Pretty much,” she shrugs. “Can I get some of that coffee?”

-/-

It’s weird regressing back to a teenager in her hometown over the next few weeks, March fading into April, the weather warming with each day. The exact thing she didn’t want was to work as a waitress again, to really fall back into old habits, but at least she’s not working at Granny’s. She’s working at Storybrooke Country Club as server in their clubhouse, and even though she has to deal with old men all day, at least they tip well.

Most of the time.

Some of the people who used to tell her to smile at Granny’s are these same people, and she can feel their judgmental eyes on her as she’s back at home serving them food. She’d think that people would understand someone working as a waitress doesn’t make them less of a person, but some people never learn.

The tips, she reminds herself. And it’s something to do, something to occupy her time and give her money while she tries to figure out her life. It’s something that’s not being stuck in an office as a secretary or a temp.

But it is temporary.

So she’s working as a waitress, sleeping in her teenage bedroom, and after her shifts, she eats with Ruby at Granny’s for dinner, the grilled cheese tasting just the same. She really is somehow going back to the past like Marty McFly, except this isn’t nearly as exciting. Plus, she has this weird need to ask her parents if she can go out late to meet Ruby for dinner.

She’s twenty-five years old.

She doesn’t have to ask her parents for permission even though she’s living with him.

The weirdest thing, however, is seeing Killian Jones again.

She takes that back.

The weirdest thing is seeing Killian, and Killian not talking to her.

Last week they had a particularly busy day in the clubhouse, and she picked up an extra shift to help out and to get overtime. She was tired. It was her day off. She shouldn’t have been there. But she was, and she dealt with it, smiling and asking all of the right questions to the patrons, especially those who she knows are members.

And that’s when she saw him. Except, she didn’t see him until it was far too late.

She was bringing a table their glasses of water for Ashley while she was in the kitchen, and she didn’t pay any attention to the slight flip of hair underneath a clean navy hat or the tattoo peeking out underneath the short-sleeved shirt. She didn’t pay attention to any of it, so when she saw those familiar blue eyes, the ones that she’s always remembered, she dropped the entire tray of ice cold water on the table, the floor, and his white pants.

His white pants.

That were...thin.  

That was bad enough, but then she started patting down his thighs with a cloth towel, and that caused all kinds of issued before he grabbed her wrists, looked her in the eyes for an extended thirteen seconds (she knows because she counted), and then he got up and left.

She’s seen him since then, but he hasn’t spoken to her. And she knows that it’s not because she spilled water on him and then felt him up while trying to dry him off.

He apparently works at the harbor, which doesn’t surprise her. What does surprise her is that he’s in charge of tourism for the summers, specifically making sure that there are plenty of boats to rent and that no one docks where they’re not supposed to. According to Ruby, he plans activities at the public pool, puts together festivals, and he even takes certain groups of tourists out sailing. It’s in his wheelhouse, even if it’s not what she thought he would be doing. He was supposed to go into the Navy, supposed to go straight into active duty and work his way through college with his grant. That was always his plan, even if he was delayed in getting around to it.

But that was never his fault. He’s two years older than her, and during his senior year of high school, his mom died. He’d fallen into such a deep depression that he almost didn’t graduate, and even though he did, he never went off to follow his dreams. Instead he worked down at the docks, like now, but instead of working with tourism, he loaded and unloaded cargo. She thinks it had been good for him to be able to work through things physically, especially since he avoided things emotionally. She tried to get him to talk about his mom and about Liam, but he never would.

Maybe this is his new dream.

A sob gets caught in her throat thinking about him, about how much she failed him by giving up on their friendship when she moved away. She fucked that friendship up, and there’s no way for her to work around that. She can’t change what happened.

She wishes that she could.

Out of all of the surprises about Killian, though, she’s surprised that he spends his time at a country club golfing in white pants. That’s not Killian. That’s not him at all. But she guesses people change.

Maybe if he would talk to her, she could understand.

She’s not sure if she wants to talk to him, if she deserves to talk to him.

She probably doesn’t deserve to talk to him.

-/-

Before she knows it, her three months she was planning on staying have passed and a Storybrooke summer begins, the tourists coming into town and filling up all of the hotels and restaurants, including the club. She’s nearly always working, and even though it’s not what she wants, she’s managing to save up some money for when she eventually figures it out. It’s not like she’s paying rent right now, and she can mostly eat at work.

So she’s still home, but it’s not all bad. She’s closer with her parents, even if her mom keeps deciding that she needs to go on a date with her dad’s deputy, and she’s become better friends with Ruby and Ashely, making up for lost time. Honestly, though, the nicest part about it is how much less stressful it is. It’s healing in a way to be home, to not have to constantly be worried about how she’s going to make it, about how she’s going to pay rent.

Something she was dreading is turning out to be pretty okay, even if sometimes she’s still a little bothered by not living in Boston anymore.

The small town life…it’s not all bad some days.

“You’re getting a little burned on your shoulder there,” Ashley points out as they lounge on the beach on their day off in an attempt to get a little bit of color on their skin after mostly working indoors.

“How?” she groans, twisting her head to the side to look at the slight pink of her skin. “I literally have reapplied all day. And we’ve been sitting under the umbrella too.”

“You’re fair.”

“Thanks for pointing out the obvious, Ash.” She stands from her towel and brushes the sand off of her body. “I’m going to go to the bathroom and to reapply, okay?”

“Can you stop and get some more waters from the café?”

She nods her head and reaches down to pull on her jean shorts, zipping them up and slipping on her sandals as she walks up the beach toward the docks. It’s pretty crowded today, families everywhere, and she has to move in and out of the crowds to make it to the bathroom, spending her time reapplying her lotion and fixing her braids before exiting and making her way toward the café. It’s just a small little shack that sells hamburgers and hot dogs, but the line stretches out down the docks so that it’ll be at least twenty minutes.

“Most people wear shirts when they dine, but then again, you seem to be a fan of see through material.”

She nearly drops her phone at the voice behind her, but she catches it and stuffs it into her back pocket, giving her some time to take a deep breath as she turns to see those familiar blue eyes and black scruff-lined jaw. He’s got on the same blue baseball cap, but instead of being in golfing clothes, he’s in navy pants with a white shirt tucked in, the sleeves rolled up to show off his forearms.

He’s always had nice forearms.

That’s not what she should be thinking about.

Or the fact that his shirt is not buttoned up enough. Well, she kind of likes being able to see his chest hair, but it doesn’t really scream “hey look, I’m the guy in charge of tourism.”

“He speaks,” she snarks, straightening her back and lifting her chin up, wishing that she was about half a foot taller so they’d be eyelevel. “I didn’t know that was possible.”

“The same could be said about you.”

The smile that was on his face quickly fades away as his eyes flicker down her body. She’s suddenly very aware of how much skin she has on display, and when she crosses her arms over her chest, she knows that he notices her defensiveness by the raise of his brows.

“Yeah, well, shit happens.”

He scoffs at that, his jaw tightening while he looks up at the sky, the underside of his chin now on display to her.

“Shit happens, huh? Is that why you’re home?”

“Isn’t it why you’re still here?”

“Believe it or not, love, I want to be here.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“You should.”

“I don’t.”

“Are you five?” he scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest just like her, but she can see that same tattoo peeking through the material of his shirt. She’s not entirely sure what it is, but it kind of looks like a ship’s wheel. He would.

“No but at least I don’t run away from people trying to talk to me.”

“That’s rich coming from you.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You know what? I don’t need lunch,” he groans before turning and walking away from her, his step steady and measured as he moves down the docks and disappears into a building that must be his office.

She wants to storm off as well, to act like the child like he just accused her of being, but she’s not going to let him annoy her to the point of not getting something to drink. So she waits, her foot stepping against the wood, and eventually gets her waters before making her way back to the beach and to Ashley who is looking at her like she’s having to bite her tongue on what just happens. The entire town probably knows that she and Killian just got into an argument.

She forgot about the gossip in Storybrooke.

Nothing is secret.

-/-

“So how’s it being home? Elsa asks her as they talk on the phone while she goes for a jog around the park. “Are you falling in love with a cute little surfer boy like it happens in the movies?”

“Els, seriously?”

“What? It’s a serious question. I’ve looked up your town. It’s super cute. I feel like great romances happen there.”

“You’re the worst,” she groans, slowing down her pace a bit as her breath gets heavy moving up the hill. “No, I’m not falling in love with any surfers. We don’t even have surfing here.”

“Okay, then sailors. Are you falling in love with any sailors?”

“Definitely not.”

“That was defensive.”

“It was not.”

“It was. Did you meet someone?”

Her eyes roll as she finally gets to the top of the hill, her legs and her chest burning the slightest bit as the June sun continues to beat down on neck from where it’s exposed. “I went on a date with my dad’s deputy, Graham. He’s a very nice guy, but I don’t know. I didn’t really feel a connection.”

“Nice guys are the guys you want to be with. It doesn’t have to be all dangerous assholes.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“I’m just saying,” Elsa laughs as Emma dodges another runner, “you have a tendency to find some not so nice guys. I mean, I wasn’t there for Neal, but I saw all of Walsh and – ”

“He was an asshole,” she finishes for Elsa, thinking about Walsh and how he was always steering her away from her friends and her hobbies so that he could try to morph her into his weird kind of ideal girl. “Yeah, I know. I’m just not sure if I want to see Graham again. I’m gonna have to think about it. Enough about me, though. Tell me what’s been going on with you as I try to finish this run.”

-/-

It’s raining.

And not like a light drizzle. It’s a torrential downpour with no signs of stopping, and even though every time she goes outside she bundles up into a coat and an umbrella, she’s still absolutely soaked down to her bones. As nice as the summers here are, this is always the one big thing – rain can come out of nowhere, and it can and will stay for days.

It also seems to stop everything.

Obviously no one is spending their time at the beach or going out sailing, so everyone huddles inside at hotels and restaurants and, unfortunately for her, the club. They open to non-members in the summer, so it’s always more packed than usual. But this? This is like absolute chaos. She’s never going to be able to sit down, and her feet are going to fall off. It’s what’s going to happen as she keeps running between the kitchen and at least four different dining rooms, dealing with angry parents and restless kids who never seem to be happy with the food they’re being served. It’s insane and stressful and she wishes that she was in Boston trying to figure out if someone was lying about whether the car accident really did hurt their neck.

No, she doesn’t wish for that. She doesn’t. She likes being home, and she thinks that’s what makes this entire day and this entire situation so much worse.

“Emma, I need – ”

“I know,” she calls back to Ashely, twisting on her foot and slamming right into a solid body that has the tray of drinks in her hands falling, spilling, and glass shattering against the ground. She knows that she could probably feel shards of it in her foot if she wasn’t so goddamned embarrassed by the fact that she just spilled drinks on Killian again.

The world is a very cruel place.

She’s going to have to bandage her ankles.

“Shit,” she sputters, already bending down to pick up the tray and the glasses that didn’t break. “Shit, shit, shit.” She starts to pick up the large chunks of glass when suddenly there are hands underneath her shoulders and she’s being pulled back up to stand, Killian’s eyes peering at her. “Shit.”

“You don’t need to pick up glass with your hands, love,” he says softly, his words far too kind for someone who just had more of his clothes ruined. “And you’re bleeding. You need to get cleaned up.”

“I know how to do my job,” she huffs, not wanting him to be kind to her, “and I’m fine.”

“You have bloody glass in your skin, Emma. Someone else can clean this up with you get it taken care of.”

“I – ” she starts, the protest on the tip of her tongue, but it dies there when she looks at the blue that has always meant so much to her. He’s changed a lot, really filled in physically, but the blue is the same. “Um, okay. I’m going to go to the front office and clean up I guess.”

He nods his head and releases her arms, and as she walks away, the slightest bit of pain in her step, she realizes that he’s walking with her. She doesn’t understand why, doesn’t want to ask why, but then he’s following her into the office, somewhere he’s definitely not supposed to go, and plopping himself down on a couch while she gets the first aid kit out and starts trying to clean her cuts and make sure there’s not more glass in her skin.

“Why are you in here?” she finally asks as she takes off her sneakers to check for glass. It’s everywhere.

“I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“Why?”

“Because believe it or not, I still care about you.”

“Yeah,” she says incredulously, shaking a piece of glass out of her shoe and into the trashcan, “sure you do. That’s totally how you’ve acted the past few months.”

“Well, forgive me for not always wanting to talk to the woman who left without so much as a goodbye.”

The cuts more than the glass that was in her skin. She should have known. She should have known that them being around each other, that them talking, that it would lead to old scars being brought up. Why the hell did she want to talk to him to begin with?

“Killian – ”

“No, it’s fine. I get it. It’s been years. I shouldn’t still be bitter about it.”

“You very obviously are, though.” She sits down on the edge of the desk and starts dabbing at cut on her hand that she must have gotten when she was picking up the glass. “Wounds made when we’re young tend to linger. Or at least that’s what you always said as if you were some wise old man.”

He chuckles a bit at that, and her eyes snap up at him. She missed that sound. She didn’t realize it until now, but she did.

“I’ve always had an old soul, love.”

“And an old personality, obviously considering you’re now spending your time in country clubs golfing.”

“It’s for work,” he explains on a sigh as he wipes at the dampness on his pants, a loud crash of thunder shaking the window. “I – ”

“I know what you do.” When he raises his eyebrow, she continues. “Ruby told me. Don’t act so surprised that I asked about you. I’m not this cold heartless bitch you obviously think I am.”

“I have never said that.”

“You might as well have for the way you speak to me and the way you mostly avoid me.”

He laughs again, but this time it’s not as pleasant. It’s more…dark, and she doesn’t like it. Not at all. “Again, that is entirely rich coming from you.”

Her shoulders tense, and she stops working at her hand to look at him, to really look at him. He looks tired, exhausted really, and if she looks closely, she can see that his eyes are red rimmed. And that’s exactly when it hits her, when she realizes what today’s date is. June 24th. It’s the day that Liam died. Of course he’s going to be upset with her, even if he has every right to be, but today is likely not the best day for them to get into seven years of issues.

So of course she’s going to anyways. She doesn’t want to drudge up Liam’s memory. Killian doesn’t like to. He has to be the one to bring it up, and if he needs to yell, it might as well be at her.

“I’m a shitty person,” she says flatly, even if voice tries to betray her. “I left town, and I didn’t say goodbye, I know. I didn’t answer your texts or your calls. I can’t…Killian, I don’t know why I did that, not to you. You were my best friend for a long time, and you didn’t deserve that. So if you want to hate me, you have every right to. You can hate me and slander my name and spill five times as many drinks on me as I did to you. I deserve it all because I shouldn’t have done any of that. I have excuses, but they’re not worth anything.”

He doesn’t say anything for what has to be at least a minute. He simply sits on the couch and taps his fingers against his thigh while his jaw visibly clenches and unclenches. “I came to visit you, you know? In New York.”

She nearly loses her balance at his words, her ass almost falling off of the desk, but she doesn’t. She stays still and tries to regulate her breathing, tries to dislodge whatever is caught in her throat.

“When?”

“February of your first year.”

“I wasn’t – ”

“You weren’t there,” he finishes for her, his gaze practically burning her skin. This is almost too much for her right now, but she’s here. It’s happening. He deserves to talk to her and yell at her for abandoning him for no reason other than wanting out of Storybrooke. She can’t believe he came to see her in New York. “You hadn’t answered any of my calls, obviously, and I needed to know why. I missed you, and I wanted to see you. Only there I was, ready to lay my heart out on the ground for you, and your roommate told me that you’d dropped out and run off to Boston with some guy.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. Why would you do that, Emma? Where is this guy now?”

“He’s gone,” she whispers, her voice nearly getting carried away in the rain. “He was an asshole who broke my heart.”

“And who made you drop out of college.”

“I did that all on my own.”

“Sure you did.”

“Why do you even care anymore?” she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and hugging herself, trying to put up some kind of shield. “I’m a screw up who was careless with your feelings. You should not care about me.”

“I was in love with you, Emma,” he yells, slapping his hands against his thighs before running them through his hair as he stands up and steps closer to her. The storm raging in his eyes matches the one outside, and she can barely breathe at the words that just slipped out of his mouth. “You were my best friend, you were there for me through everything, and you just left. I was so goddamn proud of you for going to college, for making something of yourself, but then you dropped off the face of the earth. You didn’t return my calls or my emails. Ever. And then I find out that you’ve dropped out of college and run off with some idiotic guy who did nothing but use you. I had never been more pissed at you than I was right then.”

She wants to acknowledge the fact that Killian just said he was in love with her, but she can’t right now. She doesn’t know if she ever will be able to.

“You’re pissed at me because I made a dumb choice and got my heart broken?” she finally says, the words struggling to get past her lips. “I was a naïve kid, Killian. I did stupid shit, and I paid the price for it. But you don’t get to get mad at me for that. You don’t get to throw my mistakes in my face.”

He nods his head as if he agrees, but he also inches closer to her, his knees nearly knocking into hers. “Why didn’t you call?”

“What?”

She doesn’t even know why she asked what. They’ve already talked about this. It’s like running in a damn circle.

“Why didn’t you call? Why did you decide that I wasn’t worth talking to anymore? What? The depressed man with no family was no longer interesting? I no longer made you laugh and drove you around since you didn’t have a car? I didn’t have a promising career so your mom no longer approved of me? Huh? Was that it?”

“Of course not.”

He takes a step closer, the blue of his eyes nearly completely black as their knees finally knock together. She can feel his breath on her, can feel the heat radiating off of his body.

“Then why?”

“Why would you want to spend time with someone whose entire life was laid out for them when yours had just been destroyed? I had everything, and I wanted none of it. I was young and stupid and selfish, and you deserved someone better than me to be your friend.”

“We had very different childhoods, love. You grew up in a happy house full of love and opportunity, and I would never blame you for thinking differently than me, for wanting a different life than the one you had. I was – I am an idiot. I’m a hot headed idiot who doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut when it comes to you. That hasn’t changed. That’s not going to change.”

“I’m sorry that I hurt you,” she quietly admits, not knowing what else to say when Killian’s proximity to her is making it hard to breathe. “I’m sorry that I didn’t call. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry that I’ve been ignoring you since you’ve been home.”

She takes a deep breath and nods her head, her heart still thumping against her chest. This is a lot of emotional whiplash, and she’s not quite sure how to take it or handle it. She doesn’t even think they’ve solved anything or explained it well, but the truth of the matter is that she doesn’t even have an explanation. That’s how shitty she was to him. She doesn’t even know why she did the things she did.

Killian was in love with her.

And she broke his heart without even realizing it.

How could he ever want to talk to her again?

“Killian, I – ” she starts, more words of apology on her tongue when Ashley walks into the office, her eyes widening at the sight in front of her. They must look like a mess. And when the hell did her hand land on Killian’s shoulder?

“Um, Ems,” Ashely stutters while Killian sighs, “I don’t know what’s happening here, but we kind of need you back working.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she mumbles, not moving from her spot. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Now would be better.”

“I’ll be there now,” she says, looking up at Killian and wondering how the black of his eyes has faded back to blue when he should still be pissed at her. “Do you want to talk some more later?”

He smiles, and even though his lips are now surrounded by scruff, it’s the same smile.

“I’d like that.”

-/-

June swelters into July, and she becomes busier than ever at work as well as helping Killian with whatever events he sets up to drive in tourism. It’s odd talking to him again, really talking to him, but after that day at the club, despite nothing really being resolved, they’ve both made an effort to try to be friends again. She doesn’t know why Killian would want that, not really, but it’s his life, and a lot can change in seven years. A lot has changed, and even though they were friends before and know the basic questions and answers of their lives, it’s kind of like starting anew again. Neither of them are the people they were. They’ve grown, changed, and it takes some time to start to get to actually know Killian again.

For one, he’s not a loner anymore. Not at all. And it’s not like he was to begin with, but he definitely wasn’t actively social. Now, though, they can’t walk down any street without Killian talking to someone and asking about their wife or their kids or something personal that shows that he knows this person. It’s the strangest thing watching him be this social guy, but honestly, it makes her happy that he’s happy. He’s always been so charismatic, and it’s kind of nice to see him use his charms and to not be holed up in his house drinking rum.

That’s one thing that has definitely changed. It’s not that Killian was some underaged alcoholic, but he did have a fondness for rum, especially after his mom died. She doesn’t know how he got it, but he did. But now, Killian doesn’t drink at all. He hasn’t outright said it, but when they go get something to eat, he always orders water or tea. She doesn’t think much of it until one night they’re walking along the dock hanging streamers for a sailing race the next day and he starts telling her about Milah.

She hates that her heart pangs when he starts talking about her because she should not be jealous of a woman who’s not in the picture anymore. She should not be jealous at all. She’s always found Killian attractive, even more so now, but they’ve never been a…thing. She’s never wanted them to be a thing, to be more than friends, but her mind is obviously betraying her.

“I loved her, you know,” he starts as he hammers a nail into a post. “She helped me through a really dark time. She made me happy, and I guess that’s why I never questioned the fact that she didn’t like going out on dates in town or why we always slept at my place. Storybrooke is not a big town, and I was so dumb to not realize. I was also too drunk. But obviously I figured it out, we got into a fight, and then we broke up. I didn’t have any interest in being in a relationship with a married woman, even if her marriage was falling apart. I didn’t want to be like my dad, you know?”

“You’re not like your dad,” she promises, hanging the string for the banner and tying it off. “You never have been.”

“I was sleeping with a married woman and drinking far too much. I was exactly like my father. So I broke up with the woman who I thought was going to be the love of my life, and I quit drinking. Simple as that.” “You and I both know that it wasn’t simple.”

He shrugs his shoulders, but his focus never strays from the task at hand. “I’ve been sober for two years. It’s not simple, no, but it’s easier now than it used to be.”

And so their nights go. They work together and spend time together just like they did as teenagers, and little by little, the threads that have been holding their secrets together unravel as they reveal thoughts and dreams and what’s happened in the past. Their threads had been cut from each other seven years ago, but she thinks they’re starting to be knit back together. It’s not something she ever thought would happen, but she’s glad that it is.

Really glad.

-/-

By the time August rolls around, she accepts the fact that she may very well actually like Killian Jones. It’s not that difficult of a conclusion to get to, not really. They basically spend all of their time together. When she’s not working, she’s usually helping Killian work or chilling at the beach with him, and when he’s not working and she is, he’s always at the club. Last week he came to her parents’ house and had dinner with everyone, and even though it’s something that’s happened before, it felt…different.

The fact that her mom’s eyes lit up and she wouldn’t stop talking about how handsome Killian is kind of nailed home the fact that her mom wouldn’t mind if she and Killian started screwing like bunnies.

Woah. That’s not where she was going with that.

But it kind of is. She’s ridiculously attracted to him, emotionally and physically, and she kind of wants to sleep with him.

She should definitely slow her roll, though. She’s not just going to jump into bed with Killian. That would change…everything. That would change absolutely everything. Besides, it’s not like he wants to be with her.

She knows that it’s a lie even as she thinks it. She knows that Killian has feelings for her, that he always has. Hell, at one point he was apparently in love with her, and while she doesn’t think that’s true anymore, she can tell. Sometimes you just know.

And sometimes Ruby tells her that Killian looks at her like she’s responsible for hanging the moon in the sky and creating the waves of the ocean. Sometimes Ashely tells her that she looks at Killian like he was the one to hang the sun.

They’re not weird celestial beings, but the point still stands.

She’s got absolutely no clue what to do with it.

But it’s not something she really has to deal with as she stays busy at work and Killian does the same, tourism in town reaching its peak before everyone goes back to school and families stop coming on vacation. Yet, like she’s living in some kind of Hallmark movie where everything magically seems to happen during a big event, on the day of Summer Fest, a very aptly named festival where all of the local vendors set up booths at the docks and beach games are held along with swimming and boating competitions, something changes between she and Killian.

It happens slowly, really, as these things do. She’s spending her day running around in goddamn khaki shorts and a lime green t-shirt that Killian made her wear as she helps him to keep things running smoothly. She doesn’t really see him more than a blur of black hair and tan skin, and that’s okay as she doesn’t really have time to talk. So their days go on, separately and yet together, and by one in the morning, everyone has left the pier, the docks, and the beach, except for the two of them as they sit with their feet dangling off the pier and over the ocean, a bucket of cotton candy between them.

“I don’t know why more people don’t come out here to look at this view.”

“Because it’s one in the morning, love,” he laughs, sticking his hand in the bucket to grab some of the fluff. “Everyone is asleep.”

“We’re not.”

“Because we’re crazy.”

She laughs at that as she twists herself a little closer to him, picking up the cotton candy bucket and holding it in her lap as their thighs press together and her head rests on his shoulder, the smallest hint of his cologne still remaining. Mostly he smells like salt and sweat. It’s not an awful combination, but it’s not particularly pleasant either. She can’t imagine what she smells like after spending the day outside. Probably sweat and suntan lotion.

“Oh I don’t know, I think we’re geniuses for getting this view all to ourselves.”

“It is a beautiful view,” he hums as his arm comes to wrap around her waist, fingers toying with the skin just about the belt loops on her shorts.

His touch is electric, like lightening bugs inching over her skin, and she twists her head up to look at him only to find that he’s already looking at her, their lips so close that if she just pressed up the slightest bit she could…

“Emma,” he whispers, somehow inching closer so that his nose presses into hers, his lips ghosting against her skin as she whines at the lack of touch. It’s so much and yet not nearly enough.

“What?” she murmurs right back, one hand bracing her against the wood while the other lands on his thigh, his muscles twitching under her touch.

“What are you doing?”

“I was kind of thinking about kissing you.”

“So was I.”

And then they are. It’s soft, gentle at first. Really, it’s as sweet as the cotton candy that they were just eating. He tastes like that too. Killian’s lips taste like sugar, and they’re far softer than she ever imagined. She has imagined it too, far more than she’d ever admit. Seven, almost eight years ago, when she left this town with no intention of ever coming back, when she screwed up her life and hurt people she cared about, she never would have imagined knowing just how Killian kisses.

It’s a good thing to know as her heart threatens to burst through her ribcage with its pounding.

She thinks that he’s going to pull back from her, that he’s going to stop the kiss, but really his hands come up to cup her face, rough callouses covering her skin with the magic of his touch, and he drags his teeth against her bottom lip, his mouth forming into a smile at the little noise that she just let out as heat simmers below the surface of her skin. It can no way compare to the way the sun felt beating down on her all day.

It’s so much better.

Her lips part to let him slide his tongue into her mouth, the slick flesh exploring her as she does the same. He’s a damn good kisser, and she could do this for hours. She might have been doing this for hours. She honestly doesn’t know at this point as her toes actually curl within her shoes and as her skin tingles.

“We should go inside. Get some rest.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she agrees, knowing that even though the two of them are going to end up in bed, neither of them are actually going to bed.

His apartment is only a five minute walk from the pier, but it seems to take them so much longer to get there as Killian keeps taking the time to push her into a wall and bury his head into her neck, hot puffs of air coming out onto her skin as he kisses her flesh. It’s thrilling and exciting, and she really shouldn’t complain with the heat that’s curling between her thighs and the way that it’s absolutely driving her mad.

But they do eventually get inside, Killian unlocking the door with his hands shaking the slightest bit, and she tries to comfort him by turning and wrapping her arms around his neck as she pays the same attention to him that he did to her earlier. His hands find her ass, and before she knows it, warm flesh is dipping below her shorts and squeezing her as he easily walks her backwards. She trusts him completely in so many ways, and she thinks that mostly shows with the fact that she never looks behind her as they move through the apartment.

She’s far too distracted by this little noise that he makes when she bites down on his clavicle anyways.

“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“Is that so?” she mumbles, pulling back from him and lifting this ugly t-shirt over her shoulders so that it falls to the ground and her skin is exposed to his gaze.

“Aye. No one compares.”

“Oh I don’t know about that,” she teases, her voice lifting in pitch as his fingers work at the button on her shorts. His hands are so damn warm, and she imagines the rest of his body is as it holds the warmth of their day spent outside.

“I do.”

She looks up at him then, at the intense forget-me-not eyes, and the smile that was on her face falls at the seriousness of his. He means it. Really and truly, and she’s not going to take that lightly. Pressing her palm up against his chest, she lifts up on her toes and slants her lips over is.

“You’re not so bad yourself, handsome.”

It’s not quite the same, but she’s getting there.

Slowly but surely each article of their clothes is peeled off of their bodies. It takes far too long with how they’re stopping to explore every inch of each other’s skin with hands and lips and teeth. Killian is exceptionally good at riling her up, at making her want him, and after what feels like an eternity, he settles himself over her and between her thighs as he pushes into her in a thick slide of heat that makes her dig her nails into his arms, little red marks staying over his tattoo while she holds on tightly.

“Emma, God, I – ” he begins, his voice strained and yet light, as if he’s talking to that person who he thinks hung the moon. Maybe he is as he gently rocks into her, his hips deliciously sliding over hers while his lips hover just above her. “You are fantastic. I can’t – this is so much better than I imagined.”

She wants to make a quip about him imagining this, but she doesn’t. Instead she presses up to kiss him. “For me too.”

It’s slow, much slower than it ever has been for her, and it’s likely because Killian is taking the time to learn what she likes, to learn what brings her pleasure and causes her to whimper as they shift and move together. He’s brilliant at this, at making every inch of her feel treasured for the first time in a long time, and she wants to do the same to him, to show him that he’s treasured too. She wants to show him that she’s not leaving him, not again.

So she spends her time gliding their lips together, trying to coax out whimpers of pleasure from him. She does, and she wonders if she can memorize the sounds that he makes. She’s planning on doing this again, so she’s got the time. His hips snap into hers as her legs shift to allow him better access, to make him slip in deeper, and when he starts to get a bit shaky, she snakes her hand between them to rub at where they’re joined. She knows that she falls first, that her blood runs hot and that she can’t stop it as her eyes shut and Killian’s forehead rests against her collarbone. But she doesn’t want to stop it, not when this is so blissful and not when Killian is falling apart too, coming undone as the sweat on his skin falls to hers, his lips pressed against her ear as he whispers everything but “I love you” to her.

That comes two months later on a warm morning in October as they sit at his kitchen table drinking coffee after they spent the night trying to figure out what kind of job she’s going to apply for since she doesn’t want to keep working as a waitress. Killian suggests that she come work for him, and when she raises a brow at that, he shrugs and tells her that he’s serious. Whether she realizes it or not, she’s become quite adept at helping him plan events and set up for things, as well as answering calls and dealing with people who are upset that it’s raining and that their scheduled sailing lesson has been cancelled.

Plus, it means that she doesn’t have to work in an office all day, which is exactly what she’s been trying to avoid.

So the night after she figures out a way to maybe get her life on track, the man who has always been there for her even when she wasn’t there for him tells her that he loves her. She says it right back, meaning every word. She might not have deserved him for hurting him when they were young, but if there’s anything she’s learned lately, it’s that forgiveness, when deserved, is a very powerful thing.

She knows all of his secrets, all of his scars. She knows the ones that she caused, the ones that were left while she was around and the ones that were left after she was gone. She’ll get to know the ones that are left in the future.

She also knows that the ship wheel’s tattoo on his arm, the one that has his mom’s and Liam’s names inked into his skin because they were the people he loved most, gets her name inked into it three years after she officially returns home.

Because she is.

Home.

[bigskydreaming]

I’m so mad, I’m so.....fuck. I feel like this doctor had no intention of ever doing this surgery because its like ever since I actually CAME UP with the money, its been one thing after another about why I need to do this still or that, and it feels like they kept stalling or trying to get me to give up, like....idk, nothing I come up with makes SENSE, all I know is they were perfectly fine and helpful in getting me a diagnosis and scans, and then sent me off after I did the final molds/impressions and said the only thing left was they couldn’t move forward until I paid x amount of money...and then I did, and all of a sudden its oh that’s not the right amount, I don’t know who quoted you that (umm you) but actually we need 20K up front because insurance claims can’t be submitted until after treatment and we might not be reimbursed (which again, then why did YOU make me wait to send my insurance preauthorization requests if your policy is to make patients pay in full upfront and wait for reimbursement which...what)...and THEN if there was STILL never a chance of me getting this surgery without paying in full upfront, why did they make me wait around for another week and a half while we waited on getting my insurance approve an access to care form that made this doctor in network (previously she was out of network for my insurance, but I had my insurance check for in network providers and there’s no one in network within a 100 miles of me who does this specific surgery)....like, if even being in network, they still weren’t going to take Blue Shield’s formal, written letter detailing what exactly was covered under my plan and they were intending to pay out....WHY WAIT FOR THIS FORM TO GO THROUGH AND GET THE LETTER BACK AT ALL????

It makes NO fucking sense. I feel like they never expected me to actually be able to come up with the money and idk what, like, she actually doesn’t know how to do the surgery or she doesn’t fucking doesn’t like me or want to or what like, lmfao I don’t even know, it MAKES NO SENSE.

But of course, its super obvious they were putting off calling me and hoping they could ride out the clock and I wouldn’t call today because I can tell the office manager doesn’t like being the go between and having to only give me bad news, but like, tough, that’s your fucking job, and maybe if you’d been a little less ‘gentle’ about it and just flat out admitted you guys were never gonna fucking do this surgery for me, I wouldn’t have WASTED an entire fucking month sitting on my ass, draining my account of money I can’t afford to waste, because my shitty jaw has progressed to the point where I can barely sleep, barely even eat because I have to manually fucking close it with my hand when I chew anything harder than rice, lmfao, and just....

God. The only thing I can think of to do now is try calling every other oral/maxillofacial surgeon in the county and see if they can do these procedures and accept my insurance. I know there’s no in network ones, and I already checked and my insurance can’t help me find a list of out of network ones, I have to basically just google every oral surgeon in LA and even though they’re all apparently out of network if they’re able to perform this surgery at all, I can at least probably get them in network by doing an access to care form again with them too, like since clearly this doctor turned out to not be a viable option? Idek man. Ugh. Jfc. And who knows how long this is gonna take. Ugh if they’d at least just fucking owned up to it and just called me this morning when they decided this still didn’t change shit, I could have had all day to be calling other offices instead of waiting for them to call and hoping this time at least they were aware enough of my DESPERATE FUCKING SENSE OF URGENCY BECAUSE HAVE I MENTIONED CONSTANT FUCKING OWWWWW AND ALSO HEY MY COMPLETE INABILITY TO FUNCTION IN ANY KIND OF MEASURABLY PRODUCTIVE WAY??? that they’d actually KEEP their word this time about calling when they said they’d call.

Now of course, none of these places are open on Saturday from the looks of it, so I won’t even be able to START calling around until Monday, and ugh. jfc. why. why the fuck did they string me along all fucking month if they knew at the end of it all no matter what, they weren’t gonna budge from trying to get me to pay 20K upfront, out of pocket, like I hadn’t told them from the START there was no way I could manage that, and hadn’t told them AGAIN when they TOOK my fucking money in the first place, when I paid them the $6,200 they INITIALLY told me would be my downpayment for this surgery, like I told them THEN that getting the loan for $10K in order to come up with the EXACT amount they specified took every bit of goodwill I could wring out of a lender with the credit I do have and there was ZERO chance of me coming up with ANYTHING more than that amount upfront....so why the fuck didn’t they tell me at least THEN when they ‘corrected’ me on the amount that it didn’t matter HOW MANY fucking hoops I jumped through with my insurance to try and get this doctor the reassurance or surety that they’d be reimbursed for x amount by Blue Shield...like....I COULD HAVE BEEN DOING ALL THIS A GODDAMN MONTH AGO. I’ve been waiting TWO YEARS for a fix to this shit that affects EVERY SINGLE ASPECT of my life, I FINALLY got a fucking diagnosis, a doctor who told me she could fix it, who said she could restore full function and wipe out the problems I have from it completely, no more headaches, no more pain, no more vertigo, no more nerve flareups....and now turns out I’ve wasted ANOTHER full month that got me not a single fucking step closer to this being DONE and FIXED and like.....

I’m so mad. And just. So frustrated. And SO. FUCKING. TIRED. Jfc. I hate them, I really fucking do, like they literally just fucking don’t give a shit no matter how many times I really fucking calmly and civilly lol tried to express how much it gets worse every single day like it has been CONSISTENTLY for the past two years, like never fucking plateauing, no matter HOW bad I think its gotten, it ALWAYS fucking manages to find a way to surprise me when I wake up the next day and yet AGAIN its somehow managed to shift so things are just enough different I NEVER get a chance to even get used to a ‘new normal’ and just fucking adjust to it, as shitty as it might be....ugh. God. I’m just.

LMFAO I honestly think right now I hate this doctor more than the fucking gay-bashers who caused this fucking drama by kicking me in the goddamn face over and over 15 fucking years ago and if THAT’S not hysterically fucked up I REALLY DONT KNOW WHAT IS.

Anyway. So that’s my mood tonight, how’s everyone else doing? LOL.

This might be a longshot, but on the off chance that ANYONE knows or is friends with or related to an oral surgeon or oral maxillofacial surgeon in the greater LA area, like, this specifically is what I’ve been told I need to get done:

I need a Mandibular splint, a Total joint surgery on the left tmj (Temporomandibular joint) and an Orthognathic surgery. They specifically ruled out that I didn’t need a jaw replacement surgery because I have enough of the original bone that goes in that joint like, still there, so I didn’t actually need to get a prosthetic joint or the jaw replacement surgery which is apparently riskier and less effective anyway? Idek. If I can even trust anything they told me at this point, lmfao, but let’s just assume I can because not sure this fucker’s depression hour can handle thinking I might have to start back from square one NOPE NOT GONNA HAPPEN NOT THIS GUY I FUCKING REFUSE.

LOL as though my objections have any fucking effect on any of this anyway. BUT I DIGRESS. So yeah, that’s what I supposedly need done, I actually have really fucking good and expensive Blue Shield insurance that I’ve gouged myself a new asshole getting and keeping this year, not to mention needed donation posts and help with that just to still ultimately scrape by and not lose it, all specifically because I knew there was not a chance in hell I could ever afford the treatment I was being told I needed, like, out of pocket, and the irony is due to how expensive living out of a motel is and how like, I couldn’t afford to take any money AWAY from my many doctor visits in order to at any point this past year come up with enough money to put first and last month’s rent down on an apartment (and I look too much like a tweaker apparently, with constant twitches and fidgets and fixing my jaw, for like, anybody to want to just rent a room to me apparently, and even giving them the full story ended up seeming like “im too much drama” hahahaha oh LA I fucking HEART you sometimes), so there was never really any fucking alternative TO living out of motels currently, at least not until I can manage to stay upright on my feet long enough to get a part time job and use that to get a permanent address around here.....AND bottom line is in order to take in enough money from work and then ultimately from help with donations too, in order to keep my motels paid daily and not get kicked out and still manage to eat at least every other day....that was just enough money that it looks from my bank account that I make too much to need or justify Medicare taking on all this for me, ruling that out as an option, even though none of that money in my bank account was ever fucking LEFT by the end of each day after paying rent/food, and I usually only had like three bucks in my account by the time I went to bed each night....doesn’t fucking matter because lolol all they give a shit about is your MONTHLY statements. And I’m well past the point where I can even manage busing all the way around LA to downtown and shit in order to make the daily trips required to get Medicare offices to eventually give enough of a fuck to hear me out, like...a five minute bus ride to Best Buy today to buy a replacement keyboard for this laptop practically wiped me out ahahaha.

Anyway, I’m just venting and purging like I do. Don’t worry, I promise not to actually go supernova and ignite the atmosphere like I threatened earlier, that was all for show, we all know I’m WAY too petty and spiteful an asshole to ever settle for anything less than full fucking victory here and then like...eventual world domination because lol not like I’m letting those frathole rapist gaybasher fuck-offs WIN, like, have you MET me? I have survived this long on ire and spite, I will make it as far as I need to its, just...

*pathetic whines*

I dont fucking waaaaaaaaaaaaant to, I’m tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiired, I wanna go to beeeeeeeeed.

Anyway, yeah. So if anyone like, is related to one of those surgical types or KNOWS someone who is, like, my good fucking insurance is set up to pay for having the operation done at Cedars fucking Sinai no matter who does it, like, as long as the doctor has any kind of pre-existing relationship with them, enough to get them to book an OR for them, I guess? I still dont fucking know how all this works, apparently Grey’s Anatomy is not an accurate source, who knew, how dare.

Like but yeah, the endpoint of that particular stream of consciousness vomit was if anyone knows ANYONE who knows ANYTHING about ANY of that surgical medicalese blah blah blah that I posted, like...my anons are open, feel free to pop in with a name and number or suggestion or referral or whatever the fuck, I will take ANY connection no matter how flimsy if it exists at all, I don’t care if its your second grade teacher’s dog’s veterinarians second cousin by marriage’s roommate. That’s GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME.

[regular-lord-reckoner]

i finally had my appointment with my new neurologist today and it went fine, but in the process of trying to locate their office i got really turned around and was then running late and it resulted in me crying in public and almost canceling my appointment altogether! 

fortunately they were nice enough to still let me be seen, but i feel like i kind of fumbled the entire visit because i was such a sweaty, anxious mess by that point i couldn’t really articulate myself well 

but.....i at least got my prescription renewed and my new neurologist is on the same wavelength of “well, you don’t really present the way this disorder often does so i’m not saying you don’t have it, there’s obviously something neurological going on with you, but if you’re cool being managed with this medicine then we’ll just keep with that” so that’s fine by me

we decided to do some kind of special set of labs that might give some more answers as to what my deal is, but idk if anything’s really going to come of that

all of this took place, mind you, in a hospital i’ve had multiple bad experiences in (the last being the day i went in for lithotripsy only to get forgotten about in the process of trying to get me back for surgery, having two nurses try to insert a catheter into me after i’d just peed because they realized AFTER i took a urine pregnancy test that they needed another sample which was...tortuous, had a nurse insinuate that i have neurological problems because i was vaccinated as a child, ultimately to have my procedure canceled after all of that and i was still billed for services that day so.....yeah. was less than enthused to be there again, especially since in the lab getting my blood drawn i kept hearing the people at the front desk say, “what is this...muscular....huh??” “just pick that one, i guess, i dunno” while they were trying to figure out i guess which tubes and labels they needed. nothing makes you feel more confident than waiting 30 minutes to get some blood drawn only to hear the people responsible for doing so go on for like 10 minutes about “Idk what this is, i guess just pick whatever, idk” 

....also, not to be a jerk, but they brought me back there and sat me down and then just...didn’t draw my blood for a while because two techs apparently needed to work on this one lady who was a hard stick, but they also kept referring to me as “the patient over there” or “that girl there” and shit like that like......okay. 

at one point one of the techs told another one that walked through “hey, when you get done with that can you stick that patient over there?” and i then watched this woman just....wander aimlessly back and forth through the lab doing absolutely nothing but trying to look busy until finally someone else came to do it. all while like...occasionally making eye contact with me and then just immediately turning away to go find something else to do like ???? 

like idk, man, more often than not i don’t want to be acknowledged or considered or perceived in any way, shape, or form but i was already having a rough day and feeling pretty rocky overall in a place i’m not super fond of to begin with and all i want is to give blood and get the hell out of here, but it’d be nice to just....be acknowledged as a human being ?? i’ve already walked and driven all over creation in this fucking funhouse you call a hospital that’s piss poorly labeled as to where anything is and i just want someone to be like, “hey, are you waiting to have labs drawn? someone will be with you in just a second” not just like...nodding to me sitting in the corner and asking someone else, “hey, can you deal with that when you get a chance?” 

idk. today’s just been uh.......really frustrating!!! 

i’m also kinda miffed because my job is like...insistent that i go to corporate to pick up all this equipment that’ll supposedly improve my quality of working from home, but honestly like....i just need a laptop. maybe for some of the other stuff they’ll have me doing i would appreciate just having like....another screen so i can have two different programs open side by side, but apart from that i don’t really need anything else 

and yet not only do i need to just go pick this whole rig up that i don’t even want or need, i need to talk to someone in IT while i’m there to have them show me how to set it up and one of my managers texted me about it today and was like, “[other manager] can’t finalize your job description and get you hired as full time until you pick that stuff up!!!” which ???????????? how on EARTH is my job being finalized on that like ????? what????? 

i’ve been on work contract this entire time (something that’s probably gonna fuck me real good come tax time) and have been trying to keep my hours low enough that i’m still making money to cover bills and other shit like that, but not enough that i’m going to end up owing even more money when i do my taxes and stuff and like....you’re telling me part of the reason for that is because i haven’t picked up some equipment which has clearly not been a detriment at all to my ability to do my job thusfar? i.....alright, i guess. (also the only reason i haven’t is because we’ve decided to set it up in a particular place in my house that my mom has a lot of stuff in she needs to sort through and organize and she’s TOLD them that. we work at the same place, it’s not like that don’t know. hell, my mom had even told them we were going tomorrow to get this stuff and i wasn’t even aware of that so like ????? thanks for the extra anxiety, i guess!! didn’t get my fill of it when i was sitting in some hallway of a doctor’s office about to bawl my fucking eyes out, thanks for that. needed that)

good news is, i’m going tomorrow to get it so like....no more excuses!!! and i get to a certain degree one of my managers is just trying to be careful because she wants to give me the appropriate title because that’ll be important for how much i get paid as well as what the cap is for how much of a raise i can possibly get which i appreciate and am thankful for (really this entire job opportunity is a blessing) but i guess just given what a shitshow today was getting that text especially was just a real what the fuck moment 

but....i’ve at least finally got my prescription renewed so that’s one less thing to worry about (especially because i’m getting close to the end of the bottle i have now) and even though my insurance situation is still kinda up in the air at the moment it didn’t prevent me from being seen today so that’s something at least. i’ll probably end up getting a bill for the visit today and the labs, plus however much my medicine ends up being, but supposedly i’ll be reimbursed once my insurance kicks back in so fingers crossed on that, i guess 

idk. at the very least....today is over with and hopefully tomorrow’s a better one. i’m at least caught up enough with work that i’m done for the week so i’m just going to relax these next few days as best as i can, maybe get some cleaning done, but mostly just kinda....unwind because jesus christ if i didn’t almost have a full blown midsommar style breakdown today trying to find this goddamn doctor’s office 

[pseudonymfox]

Different meanings of Love (Part 1)

Jack Kline x Reader

Summary: This is following the storyline of 14x06 of Supernatural. Jack has his first case with Dean and you. Everything works out eventually but Jack has a problem what no one knows about.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, minor violence, fluff, angst, Sarcasm

A/N: It’s gonna be a mini series ;) Hope y’all like my first story with Jack

Main Masterlist - Series Masterlist

Dean just walked into the kitchen where Jack and you sat like almost every morning to eat breakfast. It’s already past breakfast time but like Dean would care and neither the both of you didn’t had anything else to do since Jack lost his grace and wasn’t allowed to join on hunts and you just stayed at his side, kept him company if you would like to say so.

You still joined them or Charlie or Mary or whoever was going on a mission from time to time but Jack is your best friend and you would either stay in the bunker with him then leave him behind. Didn’t help that he was already feeling bad enough or that he had a cold over the last few days.

“Still got that cough huh?” Dean asked Jack who just turned away to cough into his hand.

“Maybe I am allergic to sitting around all day doing nothing” he replied sarcastic back while you had to hold back your giggle.

“Ok what do you kids want to do?” Dean sat down on the opposite bench, you already knew what Jack wanted but you thought that he meant like going to a diner or watch a movie.

“Don’t call us kids...old man” you mumbled and earned a glance from him which made you smirk and Jack grinned too.

“Hunt!” Just the answer you expected.

“Sam say we can’t go alone but Cas has been working cases with us” Jack added trying to persuade Dean who was just as fond with the idea as Sam or anyone else.

“And he told me you’ve been doing good with those..No offence, Cas is an insurance policy on those hunts” You understood why they didn’t took him on the hunts now that he is human, you really did but he was also talking non-stop about it, rather dreaming about it and they can at least give him a chance if he wants it so bad or train him like they train you for a while now.

Jack showed a file to Dean about a guy named Winston that was killed and found with human bite marks plus like a series of other people that has been gone missing. It was a good case, a good first try for him and more training for you.

“Please dean. Give it a try.” you used your best puppy eyes on him.“Sam is not gonna like it” he just replied starting to make him some food. “Sam is not here” Jack said standing up as well, he wouldn’t let it go and neither did you if the both of you would try to ‘seduce’ Dean more and more. But the way he looked at you wasn’t really looking like it.

“You know what, you did good work. Okay? I’ll go check it out” Jack pleading look could break your heart and Dean was just stubborn.

“Didn’t we have this buddy system now?” you asked giving Jack a hint.

“(Y/N) is right! We’re supposed to have a partner for our hunts now.”Almost got him. Just a bit more.

“We could be hunting buddy’s” Jack smiled.

“Okay..A. Don’t call it that and B. You’re gonna back me up?” he said but now you stood up too.

“We both can and we need to do something” you said desperately.

“You don’t understand. I’ve could have killed Michael...Here when I was strong enough, I could have but there was so much going on and then everything else happened because I was distracted and stupid and…-” he began again to think everything is his fault, that he could have done something different but you told him multiple times he couldn’t know how everything ended up and that it wasn’t his fault at all. Dean broke him off while you reached your hand to his shoulders patting him.

“You didn’t do anything wrong” he told him, you decided to remain silent for a second.

“-and neither did you but that didn’t make it any easier does it? So I can’t just sit here in  the bunker and think about it all day, What I could have done differently but what I can do is hunt! Give me a chance...Give us a chance!”Jack snapped back.

A few moments later and he agreed thankfully even when you knew he still wasn’t really fond of it. He called Sam to let him know and you were already on the way in both of Dean, Jack and you in suits because you didn’t wanted to wear the ugly skirt Dean had in his closet where you didn’t even wanted to know where this was coming from or who had it on before you.

First stop: ‘Dicks Red Rooster Diner’ which was the favorite spot of the victim Winston who supposedly ate breakfast here every day.

“Hey there” Dean started with the waitress that seemed a bit stressed behind the counter and already looked at you weirdly like the rest of the diner but well isn’t probably so often that two guys and a girl in suits are coming in.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah, Agent Barry. We’re from the FBI. These are my Partners Agent Charles and Agent...” Dean looked at you not remembering the name you wanted to go with since Jack and you didn’t have time to make a false ID card for you.

“Agent Smart” you smiled firmly but tried hard to hold back your laugh as you the looks they were giving you. When you had to choose a name then you would have fun with it besides Dean’s name is Agent Barry and he told you about name he choose on his other ID cards.

“Anyway..Could you give us some detail on the regular of yours, Winston Mathers?” he asked Wanda the waitress as you could see on her name tag.

“Sure, Detail number one Winston is dead..Detail number two...ha that’s all the details” she told you and chuckled.

“Wow. Thank you very much” you mumbled quietly.

Jack was writing down everything she said but you nudged his arm and shook your head telling him it’s fine with a smile.

“You know you could be a little more helpful than that” Dean tried again but Wanda didn’t seem to be a really helpful person, no matter if you are the real FBI are or not. Always fun working with those kind you thought and let Dean do the rest.

He was by sure noticing that too and that was crystal clear as he offered her money to give us the detail we want. Waitresses always need money you knew that for sure.

“He came here every day like clock work but you really wanna ask about Harper Sayles. Winston just started courting her” She told you raising her eyebrows.

“What’s courting?” Jack asked looking at you but Dean beat you to it.“That’s what you do before dating” he told him.

Jack still had a lot to learn, you and the rest tried your best telling him everything but it was definitely not your job to have the talk with him.

“Now that’s the thing that you do before the sex” he said nodding his head.

You had to bite your lip really hard not to just laugh out loud, the heat was already rising into your cheeks but that was one of the things you loved about Jack, he had to learn so much and that was just precious.

Dean and the Wanda also looked at Jack but more confused or a bit like ‘what the fuck?’.

“Sometimes you just have the sex” Wanda spoke up again leaning over the counter a bit so not everyone heard your conversation that drifted a bit off.

“We’ll talk later about it Jack” you whispered to him and he smiled back to you.

The three of you started to talk with a few customers there which outcome was just that she is pretty, popular, was prom queen and since her boyfriend left her she had some kind of bad luck. She lost well a lot of boyfriends, she works in a library and has some kind of obsession for books.

“I already don’t like her” you said as the last guy stood up and left.

“but Jack found us a case. Good job” Dean sat down on the opposite bench as the waitress brought in the cake you ordered.

“Can I ask about what Wanda said about courting?” he looked at the both of you.

”- I mean I’ve seen romantic movies with (Y/N) but never..experienced it”

Dean looked at you hoping you would help but you held your hands up in defense.

“Don’t look at me dean” you chuckled and he sighed out.

“Okay I promise that when we get back home that we’ll give you the talk” he said still munching on his marshmallow cake.

“The talk?” Jack asked again.

“Yup but right now we have to find Harper Sayles, that’s just to much bad luck for one person” he said and took a sip of the coffee.

“Maybe she is not human” Jack suggested.

“-or it’s a spell from a witch, maybe someone doesn’t want her to have luck” you added.

“We’re gonna find out” dean replied.

“You’ve read a romance novel?” he asked and you immediately knew what was about to happen.

“Dean..really?” you asked and he just nodded and smirked eating the last pieces from his cake and explained further the plan which you did not like at all.

On your way to the library you and Jack got in first, with luckily your normal clothes back on and pretended to be a customer while trying to get a look at everything. A few minutes later dean came strolling in. 

“Harper sayles?”The blonde girl at the front smiled at him.

“Hey, how can I help you?” she asked but as soon as she saw he was the

“FBI” her smile dropped.“I have some questions ‘bout Winston Mathers.” he asked her pulling the good old bad cop game on her.

“I already talked with the police about this” she replied and tried to get away but he stepped in front of her.

“Well I am not the police” she was opened her mouth to say something and you even thought she would make a run for it but sadly not.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore” she tried again.

“Well I’m gonna need you to talk about it”Jack stepped finally in and spoke up.

“Hello, sorry to interrupt. I am looking for a book?” they both turned to him.

“Excuse me, I was talking to her” Dean replied.

“Really? because it doesn’t look like she wants to talk to you” You smiled behind the shelves you looked though thinking how proud you are about him since this is just improvised, really sassy also and you could definitely see that dean was impressed by the look of his face. Besides that you couldn’t find anything that gave you a hint on her being a witch or that one was here at all.

“Listen I am -” dean started looking for his “license” but Jack interrupted him again.

“FBI..yeah I heard but see I haven’t done anything wrong so you can’t do anything to me and if she doesn’t wants to talk to you, you can’t make her, not without arresting her but you probably already knew that” he smiled calmly while Dean stepped in front of him. Harper watched them and at this point you could see that Jack did it.

“Why don’t you back off kid” Dean pointed at him angrily.

“No you back off...old man” he said now more seriousness in his voice.

That was it. He got dean and he got him real good with that line, actually dean seemed a bit surprised and hurt probably not expecting that from him. Harper didn’t either and gasped impressed.

“Old man?” dean asked still dumbfounded looking to Harper seeing her trying to keep a straight face.

“Yeah” Jack just said and Dean started to leave.

“Okay this isn’t over” he only replied one last time and moved to the door giving one last look to Jack who seemed to be proud himself. Harper and Jack started a conversation again and you could see the heart eyes she gave him, before you threw up you left quickly and got to dean in the car leaving Jack to do the rest of it.

“Hello old man” you joked with him and got into the front seat.

“Old man my ass” he mumbled back.

“Did you found something?” he asked you and you shook your head.

“Nope nothing. I don’t think a witch is involved here...Jack did a good job huh?” you smiled to him and he just nodded before your attention got brought back to Harper and Jack who just left the store.

You stepped out of the car too and followed them with a good distance before a scream rang through an ally besides you. Standing still you looked to Dean waiting what he got to say.

“Follow them I will check that out” He had that under control and nodded to him before leaving to follow them again. Just a few blocks away you found them again already entering in a apartment building. She really took him to her apartment? Does she have boundaries at all you thought and stood by the door since you couldn’t do much more than that.

Thinking over the possibilities of what is going on with that girl you got a call from Dean.

“Can you come back to the ally we split up. Found the guy Harper worked with.” he spoke through the phone.

“I’ll be right there” you said and hung up, jogging back to him. By some trashcan you found dean again and behind him the corpse.

“Oh damn” you mumbled.

“He got human bite marks like the other victims” you said turning the man on the ground a bit who has bite marks in his neck.

You stood up again again and cleaned your bloody hands with a tissue. Dean phone started ringing and showed you the ID, it was Jack and he put it loudspeaker so you could hear him too.

“I am at Harpers place, the silver and the holy water didn’t do anything so she’s not a demon. Where are you guys? because Harper is not a monster and I am ninety-nine percent sure that she is in love with me” Jack spoke through the phone leaving you a bit shocked and a tiny bit disappointed but you shook that off again.

“That’s not how that works kid” Dean replied.

“Ok but she’s looking at me with these googly eyes and then she asked me..” he started again.

“What did she ask you?” you ask him nervous.

“Oh (Y/N)...hey” he just said sounding like he choose his words wisely.

“Look I promise you that Harper sayles is not in love with you. Would you calm down? Both of you?” Dean looked now at you too.

“But if she is then I need to know everything about Sex. GO” Shocked you pinched dean’s arm a bit to do something.

“Listen Jack the guy she worked with is dead like really dead, fresh dead. Something bit out his throat” you interrupted them both not standing more of it.

“Ok what should I do?” Jack asked and Dean replied this time.

“Well something is definitely wrong with Harper or people around her”

“She said she had bad luck..Maybe she is cursed?” he suggested but you shook your head.

“No I don’t think so, I checked that. Didn’t found anything or hints to that.”

“Well the guys around her are cursed” Dean said.

“Guys like me” your listened to Jack reply.

In just seconds you got run over a heavy body on top of you letting you fall right into the blood puddle from Harper ex-co-worker. Dean dropped his phone as this thing bumped into him. You kicked him off of you hearing the man, well this thing groan.

“Why am I always the one who gets pushed into things like blood.” you said disgusted as you felt the blood already dripping from you, the only good thing about this is that you it wasn’t yours and well now you knew that it was a Zombie. Both of you started running towards Harper’s apartment with you leading the way. Dean run into the front door with you behind him hearing Harper scream.

“We are here to help you” Jack said before he saw you covered in blood.

“(Y/N)? Oh my god what happened?” Jack stepped forward to you while Dean secured the door.

“We’re not from the FBI. That’s dean, Jack and I am not your problem” you said sarcastically.

“We are here to save your live” Dean added and put a bar stool under the door handle to prevent him at least for a while to come in.

“Save my live from what?” she said hysterical and just one time the zombie kicked against the door multiple times.

“At first I thought it was a ghost but it pushed us both to the ground” Dean explained to them what happened.

“A ghost?”

“No he said it was not a ghost” Jack replied, Sometimes he probably didn’t even realised that he was being sassy or sarcastic but you enjoyed that a lot.

“Uhm..Who is this? Your boyfriend?” you asked picking up a photo from the table showing it to her and then Dean.

That was the man or most likely boy that was running after you.

“That’s my old boyfriend Vance” she told you. The kicks against the door and the groaning from him outside just got louder.

“How did he die?” you asked her.

“Die? I think he lives in connecticut” She said but you were sure that she lies.

“HARPER?” Vance yelled outside. Dean quickly handed Jack his knife, you had your own and Dean took a paper knife. Hopefully the silver would slow him down enough.

He broke the door open and indeed it was Vance who right away got to dean starting a fight, he cut him once with the knife and held him against the bookshelves turning around to you.

“Leave now!” dean grunted trying to hold Vance in place.

“We can’t just leave you” Jack tried to discuss.

“Get out now” he yelled again and Jack took Harpers hand pulling her out with you behind them. Great you thought feeling a bit left behind but also you could handle yourself right?

You just got in time as Jack pulled the door open, running right inside with them and hiding in the library with shut off lights behind the counter.

“Don’t worry I locked us in” Jack whispered to Harper.

Are you invisible now? you thought rolling your eyes as you saw Vance walking right past the door.

“Did you flipped the switch under lock?” she asked and Jack furrowed his brows.

“Switch? What switch?” he looked at you for a second.

“Not every door is the same. Some doors also have a switch you have to flip” you explained and neither of you noticed Harper going to the door right as you looked up again you saw Vance standing in front of the door and you expected her to scream or do something useful like locking the door but to your surprise she opened it.

“Bitch” you mumbled as he stood before Vance staring deeply into his soulless white eyes. He handed her a book and she grinned.

“Aww sweet” she said and pulled him down by his neck kissing him.

“What are you doing?” Jack spoke up, you just watching the scene in front of you.

“What...It’s my boyfriend. He just gets a little jealous sometimes” she hugged his side and smiled up in him.

“But..h-he’s dead and stalking you” Jack stuttered at her and Harper told you about the kink as you would say she has going on with him, like a game, then also what is the point with her ex-lovers. Then you realised that she is a necromancer and had him under control and also probably killed him.

“It all works out..except not for the both of you” she said and Vance let go of her sprinting at Jack. You wanted to pull out your knife and try your shot but Jack pulled you with him going along the shelves. Through the loudspeaker Harper spoke up and apologized to Jack and explained it all further, confessing that she killed him.

“I should kill her” you whispered as you hid behind a wall and Jack on the opposite.

One last look at Jack you saw Dean appearing almost out of nowhere and held his hand up to you shaking his head.

“Stay where you are” he whispered to you. Shortly after Jack stepped forward and tried to speak to Harper. Around the back Dean came to you and explained what the plan is.

“Harper, Why are you doing this? I - I thought we fell in love at first sight. I am not weak like other guys and I’m not afraid to really love you. What would  it be like to be with someone alive, to walk you down the aisle in front of the whole town and start a family with...with me” you listened to Jack putting up his monologue snapping you a bit out of reality asking yourself what that between the both of you really is. Vance came in sight and yelled

“She is mine!” before sprinting towards Jack to kick him away. Dean came from the other side and shot him with his shotgun which didn’t help much as Dean tried to speak with him you followed them and as he raised his hand you snatched it with handcuffs and cuffed him to a pipe while Dean did the other hand. Harper long gone as you wanted to get her too.

“You ok?” Jack asked you sitting again in the kitchen after you brought Vance into a grave where he couldn’t hurt anyone else.

“Yep and you?” you replied smiling softly at JAck who nodded and sipped his coffee with tons of sugar in it.

“So that was love?” he asked you.

“Well some kind of love but not the right one” you told him and Dean entered the room.

“I’ll go to bed now. Goodnight Jack” you reached over to squeeze his hand and as you stood up you gave dean a hug who wished you also a good night.

Now Dean sat down with a whiskey where you sat giving Jack a look who still looked smiling at the doorway you disappeared through.

“You did good kid” He told Jack raising his glass and drinking a sip.

“and..?” Jack replied waiting for something specific.“and what?” Dean asked back not knowing what he wanted.

“I was right-and you should let me go out on hunts….Not alone but maybe with (Y/N)” confident Jack looked at him.

“Alright. It’s not about being right. You’re gonna make mistakes, (Y/N) too..We all make them but it’s how you handle yourself once you made those mistakes and how you learn from them” he told him knowing exactly how it is once you made one. Dean just felt like Jack were sure about it and that he knew all about the good and bad.

“And how to not beat yourself up after you make them” Jack told him knowing what Dean is talking about.

“Your pretty smart sometimes but you should open your eyes a bit more, (Y/N) is not one of those kind who will wait” he said drinking another sip.

Jack furrowed his brows and opened his mouth to say something but his cough came up again.

“When Sam is back we’ll talk about it and then we’ll get you some cough drops” he chuckled while Jack just coughed more.

“It’s all about being human right?” he joked and stood up but the coughs got stronger and looked into his hand showing that he coughed blood again.

“Sure you alright?” Dean asked and Jack stood there crouched over the table as his nose started bleeding.

“I don’t know” he could only say before falling onto the ground unconsciousness.

“Jack?” dean tried to shake him awake but there was no use for that.

“(Y/N)!!”

You heard your name being shouted before you wanted to go into you bed thinking it was a good day, a good hunt. How wrong you were.

Next Part>>

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Tags: @escapetheshackles / @bitchsike1 / @dashlilymark / @thisismysecrethappyplace / @racheo91​

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xoxo Sophie

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

Scott Harris hosts a show at WPKN, Bridgeport’s independent radio station

https://www.counterpunch.org/2019/03/27/four-decades-of-radical-radio-an-interview-with-wpkns-scott-harris/

March 27, 2019    by ANDY PIASCIK

Extract:

Piascik: WPKN began as the radio station of the University of Bridgeport but no longer is. Can you talk about the decision by people at the station to become an independent community entity?

Harris: The decision to become independent was forced upon us when the Reverend Sun Myung Moon’s Unification Church was poised to take over the University of Bridgeport board of directors. Awash in debt, directors agreed in April, 1992 to relinquish control of the school to The Professors World Peace Academy, an arm of the Reverend Moon’s Unification Church, becoming the first American university run by the church.

Dr. Edwin H. Eigel, Jr., the outgoing, non-Moonie president of the college, gave WPKN an opportunity to break away from the college and we created our own 501c3 nonprofit to which UB transferred the license before the Moon church took over.  Eigel also gave us an unlimited lease for our studio space we occupied in the UB building for $1 a year.

Before the Unification Church took over UB, I wrote an article for the local Fairfield County Advocate newspaper about how the Unification Church takeover of fishing fleets in Gloucester, Massachusetts negatively impacted that community.

Piascik: You begin each episode of Counterpoint by stating that it’s dedicated to covering issues not usually discussed in the corporate media and from points of view generally excluded there. Could you elaborate on why this is important and what it means in practice?

Harris: Our station’s mission includes the important priority to broadcast sounds and ideas not heard elsewhere, something I take very seriously. Following in the tradition of other producers, I focus on providing air time to progressive activists, journalists and academics who get little time or attention from corporate media. It should be noted that WPKN programmers have an enormous amount of freedom to program virtually anything and everything they want, as long as it doesn’t break FCC rules and regulations jeopardizing our license.

When I began airing political interviews in the late 1970s and 1980s, it was rare that any of my guests were also given any attention in mainstream corporate outlets, either newspapers or TV or radio.  With the internet now providing many more platforms for progressive journalists and activists, it’s much easier to access progressive and radical points of view online. However, while large corporate outlets such as NPR and MSNBC who have brands that supposedly skew to liberal views, most of my guest list still are rarely heard there.

Piascik: Outlets like NPR and MSNBC pay far less attention to people’s movements and campaigns such as the wave of teachers’ strikes last Spring, the new Poor People’s Campaign and organizing against police violence, in favor of non-stop coverage of Trump and Russiagate. Has this created an even greater need for the work you and your colleagues do?

Harris: It has become urgent that independent media outlets cover and place in context the disastrous Trump GOP policy agenda.  Russiagate is a sexy story, as it pushes emotional buttons, but meanwhile there is severe damage being done to labor unions, the environment, climate change policy, criminal justice reform, civil rights, the Endangered Species Act, national park and land preservation, consumer protection and safety regulations and of course health care, which isn’t being covered with much depth.

Apart from trade issues and some GOP displeasure with his irrational tweets, Trump is for the most part following the decades long GOP playbook on cultivating support for racist, xenophobic immigration policies, opposing universal health care, deregulating corporations to the detriment of the majority of Americans and providing trillions in tax breaks to the wealthiest based on the bogus and disproven trickle-down theory.

There is also the feckless way in which the Democrats fail to effectively challenge voter suppression, voter purges and gerrymandering that makes one feel as though either the Democrats are grossly incompetent or they’re secretly in league with the GOP.  Corporate media does little to examine the conduct of both major political parties and discuss the extreme flaws in the U.S. winner-take-all electoral system that shuts out third parties and new ideas.

Piascik: You’re making an important distinction between what passes for left corporate media and real alternative, radical work like what you and others at WPKN do.

Harris: I once spoke to a woman at one of our Between The Lines events who said she gets all of her news and views from MSNBC, and didn’t think that independent media was that vital anymore.  I reminded her that NBC does very little coverage of specific topics that could jeopardize their corporate sponsors like Big Oil, API, the insurance companies. Examples of this include climate change, the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, Saudi Arabia human rights, FCC issues of monopoly ownership of media and net neutrality, to name just a few.

I also told her that a corporation like NBC has a fiduciary responsibility to its stockholders with the main priority of maximizing profit, and if and when the need arises they will fire their hosts, shift their political slant and change formats in a flash. This actually occurred when Phil Donahue was fired for his stand against the Iraq war and primetime host Keith Olbermann was eventually forced out as well.

Piascik: As media ownership is concentrated into the hands of fewer and fewer corporate behemoths, some of which like Sinclair are extremely reactionary, what do you see as the future for shows like yours and stations like WPKN?

Harris: The mindset that all media is “Free” is an enemy of listener supported outlets like WPKN and other non-commercial stations across the U.S. Broadcast media is experiencing a dramatically changed landscape where many millennials listen to their own podcasts they themselves program. Our job is to create radio programming in formats that will be attractive and accessible to a new generation. ...

[remastered-feedback]

Alright, lets run down the problems here.

Many, like Butcher, say they’re in training. Others report disability. All are missing out on a hot labor market and crucial years on the job, ones traditionally filled with the promotions and raises that build the foundation for a career.

I don’t think it needs mentioning just how offensive lumping someone who’s on disability in with a group your article is centered around painting as making unwise career decisions. I’m pretty sure most of the people who are disabled would much rather be fully able-bodied and working.

Their absence from the working world has wider economic consequences. It marks a loss of human talent that dents potential growth. Young people who get a rocky start in the job market face a lasting pay penalty. And economists partly blame the decline in employed, marriageable men for the recent slide in nuptials and increase in out-of-wedlock births. Those trends foster economic insecurity among families, which could worsen outcomes for the next generation.

“How dare you not buy weddings you don’t want and houses you can’t afford!”

It’s difficult to pin down whether the demographic wants to remain on the sidelines or is kept there by a dearth of attractive options.

It’s the second one. As a member of the demographic in-question, I can tell you with 100% certainty that it’s the second one. I’d much rather be working, making money, saving up to move out. I spent all summer applying to entry-level jobs supposedly aimed at people with lower skill levels, as well as for jobs my degree should have me eminently qualified for. I’m not unemployed because I want to be, I’m unemployed because nothing is hiring that pays enough to have anything to save after taxes, bills, transit costs, student loans, etc.

Other social changes could be exacerbating the trend. Better video games might make leisure time more attractive, some economists hypothesize, and opioid use might make many less employable. Young adults increasingly live with their parents, and cohabitation might be providing a “different form of insurance,” said Erik Hurst, an economist at the University of Chicago.

“Clearly the problem isn’t a lack of competitive wages or work-life balance, it’s those damn videogames! That, and they’re all drug-addicted layabouts. Those are probably tied to the out-of-wedlock children we mentioned too...”

Replace “videogames” with “rock music” and you have literally the exact same argument that’s been made about every single generation for the past 70 years.

Young men have been reporting higher rates of school and training as a reason for their non-employment in a Labor Department survey, and a large share say that disability and illness are keeping them from work. Those factors explain much of the wider post-2007 participation gap between 25- to 34-year-olds and their older counterparts, according to an analysis by Evercore ISI economist Ernie Tedeschi.

“Those damn lazy millennials, ignoring this booming economy!”

“Actually, a lot of us are too sick to work, and a lot of those who are able to work are too busy getting more advanced training to get a job too. We spent 20-30 years watching our parents work themselves to death in jobs they hated, while they spent the entire time telling us that education and advanced training were the ticket to a better life than that.”

“Of course, it’s the videogames! That and the drugs...”

I can go on about this article for a while, but I have better things to do. Like, topically, applying for jobs. One last thing I want to touch on though is to give my personal experience about why I, a man between the ages of 25 and 34 who is ostensibly the target of this article, am currently unemployed and not partaking in that “hot labor market.”

I graduated college in 2015, and managed to get a job in my field a few months after graduation. I worked that job until mid-2017, when I quit to go back to school. The main reason I quit was because it became clear pretty quickly that there was no room for advancement in that company. Two annual reviews in, I was working the same entry-level part-time position that I started with, at the same entry-level hourly wage I started with. With the exception of Jewish holidays - which I think I made up for by coming in on Christmas and Easter - jury duty, two days I was bedridden, and that time there was literally an overturned truck blocking the highway, I never missed a day, and I never said no. They said jump, I said how high, did everything you were supposed to.

Both of my annual reviews were glowing, and yet in this job that, according to the article, was supposed to be full of raises and promotions, and doing work that, according to my manager, was top-notch, I repeatedly got passed over for both.

Annoyed that I was working borderline full-time hours - technically you’re not full-time unless you’re working 40+ hours a week, and I was routinely working 36-38 - without any of the benefits of full-time work, regularly getting at-most one day off a week, all just for an attaboy and a paycheck that barely covered commuting costs and student loans, I quit and went back to school.

I thought about getting a different job in the same field, but I decided school made more sense, because programming and network security, the two fields at the heart of Maryland Governor Larry Hogan’s jobs initiative, a jobs initiative he’s so proud of that it was one of the core pushes to his reelection campaign earlier this week, had much higher earnings potential than my old field.

To recap, I found a job, worked it for a year or two, did everything I was supposed to and then some according to my boss, yet got passed over for a raise or a promotion multiple times. Dissatisfied, and at the urging of my pro-business, pro-jobs governor, I left and went back to school to get certifications and complete coursework to change careers into the field he was aggressively pushing for more people in my state to change into. I did very well in my courses, got certified, and spent all summer applying to entry-level jobs in my new field. I got one call-back all summer, and it was for a company that wanted me to relocate to Northern Virginia for a job that paid less than $20,000 a year. Housing in northern VA is ridiculously expensive, with a median house value over $500k. To call that financial suicide would be an understatement, especially since my interviewer made it very clear that raises, promotions, or other advancements would not be happening for at least three years. Eventually, I got desperate enough to apply for jobs in my old field, and the only place that returned my call was the place I used to work. I’d prefer not to return there, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’m considering it.

I’m not asking for pity. My ship will come in eventually, even if it’s less of a ship and more of a canoe, and even if I have to build the damn thing myself, board by board. All I’m asking is that instead of assuming that that millennials are out-of-work because we’re lazy drug-addicted gamers with unrealistic standards, consider that maybe we’re out-of-work because we’re getting next-to-no job offers, that the job offers we are getting pay so little that once you factor in the costs necessary to take them, they’re a net loss, and that when we do actually get a job, those raises and promotions you seem to think are so plentiful are nowhere to be found even after literal years of good, hard work.

Also, stop calling this a red-hot booming economy. Wages are stagnant and haven’t kept up with inflation in our lifetimes, housing has become prohibitively expensive in the majority of cities with jobs to offer, underemployment is at the highest it’s been in decades, and the vast majority of jobs that have been created since the recession are low-wage, part-time jobs with no potential for advancement or career prospects.

The only people this is a booming economy for are people who were already well off. For people trying to get started or who don’t have much money in the bank, the people that this article is criticizing for our lack of economic participation, this is a horrible economy where everything is expensive, home ownership is a pipe dream, nobody’s willing to hire anyone for more than minimum wage, and in the off chance you do land a job that’s not a dead end, they have no interest in giving you a raise or a promotion at any point.

[lightsandlostbells]

Skam Austin episode 4 reaction

part of me is laughing at the number of people in the Facebook comments asking, “Is this on Netflix?”

Episode 4

Clip 1 - Sad couch crew

I felt Tyler and Shay were being friendly to Megan here, not snide, at least on a superficial level. Though I guess you can take their excitement about the concert as passive-aggressiveness.

Tyler mentioning the Illuminati - how very Isak. TBH I really hope Julie is making both Shay and Tyler gay, since they’re dividing up the Isak moments between the two. I’m fine if Tyler doesn’t get the big season-long arc and it goes to Shay instead, I’d love to see her get it. But it’s just going to leave such a bad taste if they’ve made Isak into a wlw with no equivalent to the gay male representation that already existed, when there are many supposedly straight female characters who could be have been made into wlw. Especially the Vilde equivalent, who you could easily give a story about discovering and accepting her sexuality, or the Chris character, who didn’t have her own season and really didn’t have any substantial character issues suggested on the level of Vilde’s home life, and would benefit from a meaty arc. 

I love Shay, she’s definitely one of the highlights of the show, I’m just tired of all the fighting over whether it’s better for S3 to focus on a gay boy or a lesbian and seeing a lot of gross shit in the discussions that’s either minimizing the importance of an f/f storyline because homophobia is worse for men in Texas/lesbians don’t have it that bad/lesbians are already represented on TV because they’re accepted by straight men who find them sexy/someone doesn’t care about lesbians and will only accept Evak 2.0, or minimizing the importance of Evak/another m/m storyline because Skam and the other remakes already have gay ships so don’t get greedy/gay men are already accepted because look at all the m/m on Tumblr and AO3/people only want another Evak because they’re disgusting fetishizers. It’s fucked up how most of these talk relies on the assumption that there can be only one LGBT story on Skam at a time and not pushing back on why it goes without question that S1 and a hypothetical S2 about Grace/Daniel can both be about heterosexual relationships. 

Not to be one of those obnoxious people referencing YA novels in response to real life situations, but it makes me think of Katniss at the climax of Catching Fire when her group of Tributes is fighting the Career Tributes and she fires at the force field instead. Remember who the real enemy is. 

That’s a joke, don’t take that too seriously.

Anyway I’m tired. 

Considering how shitty he’s been acting previously, Tyler not laughing at Marlon’s comments and just deliberately eating a potato chip is a step up for him.

Speaking of the chips, they disappear in between shots and I guess Tyler could be putting the bag on the floor between takes or something but it looks like a regular old continuity error.

Marlon is a mega dick and I dislike him but I kinda can’t believe that I agreed with him about the team’s social standings vs. their practice time. But it was Marlon who said it so it sounded like a dick move.

See, he’s been such a dick that it’s hard to feel sorry for him! But also he’s in the right to feel hurt about the concert.

I don't have much to say except he is the least convincing person to be talking about how he’s not upset and he doesn’t care. He’s so obviously pissed.

There’s just not a shred of chemistry between these two. I don’t get why they’re together, I don’t get what they like about each other, they barely seem to have much fun together. There isn’t much of a rapport.

Pointless personal anecdote #1: When this clip came out, I watched it on my phone at a graduation party, and I'm not kidding, in the few minutes while I was watching some middle-aged parents started talking about wanting to move to Texas when they retire, and they named cities and singled out Austin as a bad choice because “it’s been overtaken by liberals,” lmao. There was no way they could have realized I was watching a show set in Austin. The stars just aligned.

Clip 2 - Kelsey, no

Grace is really concerned about Kelsey sleeping with Daniel so soon, probably because what happened in her own past messed her up.

“Ever since I was a little girl watching the Super Bowl, I knew I was going to lose my virginity to a football player.” .... when I was a little girl watching the Super Bowl I only cared about seeing the commercials with the pretty horses.

“It was like he was going down on me, but in my mouth” … oh my God … someone SAVE this child.

Kelsey, you don’t even know what anyone going down on you in the “correct” place feels like, and this just makes you sound like inexperienced and Not Ready . And I’m glad Meg and Grace are suitably horrified.

Oh, they actually mentioned the issue of insurance, that’s good. But she looked a little uncomfortable with the topic of insurance, so if she has a similar financial situation to Vilde, insurance might be an issue? Or, as was hinted later via texts, she might have a super religious or conservative mom who would not take her to the doctor. She might be able to go to Planned Parenthood for birth control except I’m not sure if minors can get prescriptions for the pill without parental consent because well, Texas.

I checked out of curiosity and it looks like the only type of birth control you can get at PP without parental consent are condoms and lol, Grace already had that covered.

“You know you should use a condom, right?” “What if he doesn’t want to use a condom?” “Then you know you shouldn’t have sex with him.” YES. JESUS. Thank you Grace.

“I talked to Jo this weekend and I prayed about it last night” Oh come on, they’re going to have her mention praying about Zoya’s participation on the team and then not even address the sex-religion topic? Okay. Kelsey doesn’t even have to be abstinent or opposed to premarital sex, not all Christians are, I feel like it just makes sense for someone to be like, “Isn’t having sex before marriage against your religion?” And if Kelsey objected to the question on the grounds that they’re making assumptions about her religion, they could always come back at her with “Well, you assumed Muslims couldn’t dance.”

Kudos to Grace for talking sense about the Zoya situation and being very calm and careful about the Daniel thing.

Clip 3 - Backseat

The editing at the start of the clip made me think the mom might be talking to Megan at first but no, the mom is on her phone. Mom’s communication skills weren’t so great in this clip.

The dialogue is pretty on the nose and super specific to the theeeeeeme, with the mom putting all this implied pressure on Megan, but the passive aggressiveness about Megan’s dad is sadly accurate to how certain married-with-kids dynamics are, with the parents always at each other’s throats and dismissive of each other and not caring about how the kids react to these constant fighting. 

I saw some people wondering why Megan was sitting in the backseat and honestly, that didn’t seem too weird to me. It’s not typical but I’ve ridden in the backseat even when I was the only passenger before (usually because sometimes riding in the front seat makes me sick)  but I could see like, a moody teenager wanting to text her boyfriend and not wanting her mom to glance over at her phone. Although the simplest explanation is that Julie wants to hide the parents’ faces.

I didn’t even notice the giant concert posters at first, I was focused on the homeless man. I am assuming he was there to remind us of the stakes to succeed in this world if you’re much of a “dreamer” as Meg’s mom puts it, where if you don’t get a good job that can be you living on the streets, and to get a good job you need to get a degree from a good school, and to get a degree from a good school you need to perform well in high school, and if you make one mistake you are ruined, RUINED forever. 

Meg trying to ask her mom for relationship advice and instead getting reminded that her parents have a shit relationship, lovely. 

The difference in the tone between the coworker call and the dad call is very telling. Right off the bat, when the dad calls, the mom has a pissed-off attitude. They’re at the stage where they fight just to fight.

Also, note the guilt trip caused by the mom yelling at the dad for not remembering she was going to her friend’s (and like, who cares, I mean this might be part of a larger problem but this sounds like the pettiest shit to argue about) and saying people show they appreciate and support each other by listening and taking interest in their loves, when that’s exactly what Megan didn’t do (skipping Marlon’s show that he was so hyped for) and that’s how she feels she can make it up to him (by buying tickets to the concert he had mentioned).

And the mom says people show they care by listening when she doesn’t even listen to her own daughter and interrupts her when she’s trying to ask a question, and she’s definitely not paying attention to Megan’s life. Like, how is it that they can miss that she’s not on the dance team? Surely the team has some performances or competitions that they’d attend? Fundraisers? I can see them not attending all of Megan’s dance performances, but any of them? 

Megan’s mom is a piece of work, though I’m sure the dad plays his part in the dysfunction too, I don’t want to put it all on the mother.

Clip 4 - Straw

Franz Ferdinand???

Not that this is the point but I’m intrigued by this locker setup. But I am from a place with cold cold winters so the idea of having one of these lockers in January seems terrible.

I was curious if Kendrick Lamar was actually supposed to perform in Austin on Friday, so I checked it out, and lo and behold, it was a real concert. Good job, Skam Austin.

It kinda just makes me sad that THIS is how Meg gets Marlon’s attention again, by buying (probably) expensive concert tickets.

“you two are smashing in that bathroom by the nurse’s office” at least you’re nearby if you need offbeat advice and some condoms? Oh wait, this is Texas. Never mind the last one.

This is my chance to talk about how gross I find the word “smash” in any sexual context. It just sounds uncomfortable and makes me think of potatoes.

Shoutout to Tyler’s Prince shirt, certainly a unique wardrobe choice.

Man, Kelsey is just such an easy target. Especially with the way she talks, like-like-like … blood in the water. Tyler and Shay are not here for Kelsey and Jo right off the bat and once Kelsey opens her mouth, it’s doom.

At least Kelsey had the sense to keep Zoya on the team list even if it was for self-serving reasons.

I applaud these actresses for effort, but every version of the iconic spoon scene has felt forced compared to the original. Josefina, my darling, if you’re going to be seductive with your straw, you might wanna purse your lips instead of letting it roll around in and out of your mouth.

I think it’s great that Jo and Tyler spoke Spanish to each other, and that they didn’t have subtitles, but lol at the brazenness of asking that question right in front of Shay when Shay could possibly speak Spanish herself. Or lmao, anyone who has taken Spanish I could understand what she was saying. (Like what if Shay was his girlfriend? Kinda think Jo isn’t concerned with technicalities.)

Calling him jefe, lmao, wow.

Tyler referring to Kelsey as Drew Barrymore made me laugh. Do kids these days have a firm grasp on Drew Barrymore’s legacy? What has she been in recently other than Santa Clarita Diet?

Maybe instead of references to Romeo + Juliet, we can get allusions to Ever After, The Wedding Singer, or Never Been Kissed. (Maybe not that last one.)

Also, I’m glad Meg spoke up for Kelsey so they weren’t just bashing her new friends.

Clip 5 - Internet quizzes should not be used to make major life decisions

Zoya is just looking through a book while Kelsey is talking.

Some of Kelsey’s rules: 

“Always act classy”

“No cursing, fighting, messy hair or appearance” while wearing the uniform

“Positive vibes ONLY”

But yeah, here’s another example of why the dance team wasn’t the best way to adapt russ because like … of course Kelsey is being rude and ridiculous, and I can’t say I’m on her side against Zoya, but … if the team founder calls a meeting to discuss rules, it’s expected that you will be there to discuss the rules and not blow it off? 

With Vilde’s bus, first of all, russ was several years away and they had time to pull it all together. A dance team is going to require some results in the near future, especially if the team is school-approved and getting them out of P.E. Someone is probably going to be checking up on the girls and making sure they’re not getting P.E. credit for sitting around and doing nothing. Second, pretty sure a bus group is not going to require as much day to day practice, training, and energy as a dance team.

I don’t know, however silly Kelsey’s motivations might be, if you sign up for someone’s dance team … you should expect to dance, dude. That goes for all the girls.

When prompted to give her opinion of Zoya, Jo cleverly deflects with the quiz, as her opinion of Zoya is clearly ❤️❤️❤️

I do love and appreciate Grace trying to persuade Kelsey to rethink the whole sleeping with Daniel thing. Not being too harsh, but being firm and not hesitating to point out all the ways it’s not a good choice.

Also being like “keep in mind he’s not your boyfriend” thank youuuu.

Kelsey sure doesn’t like that part about people judging her for having premarital sex. At least they might bring it up in the aftermath of hooking up with Daniel?

“That definitely didn’t happen.” “It did happen and she can’t eat Sweet Tarts anymore.” Jo continues to be the shining star of this show, I laughed out loud at her delivery of that line. 

Whenever one of the Chrises is like “I was totally wasted” about their first time, I’m just like 😧

Kelsey saying option A on the quiz, for her “boyfriend” and her being closer once they sleep together, is the most depressing thing. Stop this train before it goes off the rails.

Oh God. Kelsey does not need to be anywhere near a penis at this juncture. The way she starts giggling and laughing when Grace suggests to think about what turns her on about Daniel … you are not ready to have sex. You are barely ready to talk about sex. None of the Vildes has seemed so young and not ready to go through with this.

Kelsey did not talk about not wanting to be involved in lesbianism, hmmmMMMM. Foreshadowing? Or maybe Julie just realized that people didn’t like the casual lesbophobia if you don’t have a lesbian character? 

I haven’t been all that complimentary to the actors on this show, but I do want to give Kelsey’s actress some props for reciting that whole monologue, which is just a detailed Teen Vogue photoshoot.

It’s amusing that Kelsey integrated the Kittens uniform into her erotic fantasy but sad that Kelsey still wants to be a Kitten so much. She’s not wearing a uniform for her own group, whatever she might want it to be, she’s wearing a Kitten uniform in her ideal scenario.

You know Jo is listening to this fantasy and getting inspiration for her next Kelsey makeup experiment.Also, it makes me laugh that they’re having this discussion in a library.

Overheard in Bouldin - TMI Girl in Library: “People get turned on my different things all the time. My cousin’s thing is dirty socks. She keeps a pair of her ex-boyfriend’s in a Ziploc bag under her bed.”

May we one day meet this intriguing cousin of yours, Jo.

But don’t encourage this Daniel nonsense.

It’s too bad we didn’t get the classic doctor visit but lol, a school doctor in Texas might not be able to be so blatant with the sex ed tips, so I get it. And ultimately I would prefer if Julie tried out new scenes instead of trying to recreate old ones.

At first I thought Kelsey maybe didn’t know who Kendrick Lamar was. Which is perfectly plausible, let’s be real.

“When I have ever asked you for anything?” In the short time Meg has known you, Kelsey ... find Jo, join the dance team, get closer to Penetrator Jo, give you her birth control pills.

Clip 6 - Bowling

Kelsey’s outfit is almost exactly what she described in her fantasy! No access to a Kittens dance uniform, but otherwise very close. Follow your dreams, kids. 

“Martin had a dream … Martin had a dream …” look, I like that Skam uses a variety of music and not just white indie rock, but can we like … quit syncing music by black artists talking about black cultural topics to scenes of this white dude being a big deal.

Look at that dipshit taking up two parking spaces. Fuck offffffffffffff

Kelsey looks so happy and Daniel looks like he’s already 75% checked out.

How long is this Kendrick bowling montage going to go on?

Ha, Kelsey easily had the worst bowling score of the four of them.

“Daniel just touched my ass.” The way Kelsey was thrilled about this was kind of cute and alarming.

Kelsey wanting Meg to stay with them as long as she can makes me think she really just doesn’t want to go through with the impending loss of virginity.

“Then how’d you know my name at Talent Night?” I mean ... you do go to school together, and Jo is on the football team with a high social profile. I could name a lot of my high school classmates by name even if I’ve never spoken to them.

Is Julie going to go full Chris/Eva with this version to give the shippers their day in the sun? I love original Eva/Jonas but Meg/Marlon is an unpleasant trainwreck so I can’t say I’m disappointed. I mean I can’t say I love Meg/Penetrator Jo either,, but I’m not sad about this version of Eva/Jonas not being endgame.

Penetrator Jo is still sleazy in at least a few respects (don’t be a cocktease) and we have still have to meet his girlfriend but his memory of her seems legit so maybe he does really like her. Unless, I don’t know, he stalked her IG and remembered some relevant details and embellished this whole story?

Lmao, I can get why people might think the “No Signal” scenario would be a contrivance but that exact thing has happened to me, so I buy it.

I will give Julie this credit, she’s good at setting up Fredag/Friday scenarios where we think one thing will happen, and instead something else occurs that’s completely different from the fan theories. I figured it would be as simple as Meg or Marlon missing the concert, not that we’d spot Marlon (or “Marlon”) with Abby

I don’t think it’s Marlon, though. That seems a lot like Tyler’s walk, and the person doesn’t seem to be wearing Marlon’s ugly shoes. 

General Comments:

It’s kind of depressing to see people in the FB group and in the comments be like, “I haven’t seen the original show but could Grace be a lesbian? 😃” and the replies be like “No, Noorhelm is coming 😃”

Another “fun” aspect of having this show on Facebook: the MAGA edgelord assholes who leave comments on the episodes about “cucks” and “libtards.”

My opinion of Grace rose so much in this episode just by how doggedly she is trying to bring Kelsey back to earth. and telling her she can back out of this choice. 

In the texts, Grace said she would buy condoms for Kelsey - good job - and later, when Kelsey asked the girls what she should wear for losing her virginity, said, “I know what Daniel will be wearing” and said that she put condoms in Kelsey’s purse - excellent job.

I feel like Grace would roll the condom on Daniel’s dick herself if it meant Kelsey had safe sex.

Abby was stressing over finals on IG so I’d bet that was a hint she needed something to help her out, hence meeting up with Marlon/Tyler for Adderall.

I was wondering what kind of music would be on Skam Austin since original Skam had all sorts of high-profile artists, and that would not be cheap, but so far, it seems like Facebook spared no expense with the soundtrack.

Grace and Shay had IG posts reacting to the Santa Fe High School Shooting. IDK how much Skam Austin would address gun violence in the episodes itself in the future, and I can think of ways it could go very badly, but sadly, as one of the biggest concerns of American teenagers today, it would be very relevant, and that’s what Skam’s supposed to be, after all.

[bewarethebutler]

Dark Places: Things Don’t Look Better When You Turn on the Light

You ever read a book that makes you roll your eyes so hard they pop out of your skull and go rolling across the floor? Just me? The frustrating thing about Gillian Flynn’s Dark Places is that until the last hundred pages or so, it’s actually a really good book. The lady can write. She has a particular talent for giving us a protagonist who’s not a particularly good person, but making us cheer for her anyway. Not in an antihero sort of way, but because her characters seem aware of their flaws and do a decent job of piling on the self-hatred, it makes it easier for us to feel for them even if we don’t cheer for them. Flynn also has a serious gift for evoking a sense of place, so much so that I feel like she’s raised my personal bar for what I expect from an author--not that I expect them to all be as good as her, but since she’s SO good, I feel like I should expect a certain minimum standard from other authors. 

 Anyway, it’s pretty easy to feel sympathy for Libby Day, the only survivor of her brother’s bloody rampage that killed their mother and two sisters. Yeah, as an adult she basically survives off of sympathy money survivor groups send her, but you get the sense she doesn’t want that to be the case, she just doesn’t know how to do anything else with her life. I loved the murderer convention (a convention of fans of people like Ted Bundy, not an entire convention of murderers,) and the group of women that worship her brother Ben Day, spending way too much of their time protesting his innocence. What I didn’t love? The actual story behind the murder. Now I’m not a statistician, but I have to imagine the odds of two completely unrelated people breaking into the same house on the same night and murdering one or more members of said household are prettttttyyyyyyyy slim. Now, each of the murderers does have a connection to a member of the Day family--Patty Day hired some rando named Jim Jeffreys (who sounds like he should be running a cult,) to kill her so her children could collect the insurance money. More on that ridiculousness in a second, but Diondra, the second (or first?) murderer, is the girlfriend of the aforementioned Ben Day. While Patty arranged for to kill her on that specific night, it takes a series of truly ridiculous coincidences for Diondra to end up killing Michelle on same night. 

 Oh yeah, pro tip for anyone in debt: apparently if you call your insurance adjuster and tell him you’re really, really, REALLY desperate, even if said insurance adjuster has been a jerk and a creep up until that day, he’ll give you the contact information for a serial killer who’ll kill you so your family can collect on your life insurance. You know, in case anyone was wondering*.

When Patty first went to meet Jim Joe Jeff Jones, I thought that she was going to prostitute herself, and I was cringing. Then when it became clear what was really going on, I wished she was planning on prostituting herself. (File that under the category of sentences I never thought I’d type.) What strains credulity even more is that the Jimmy Jonas Jacobs, who apparently has killed several people by this point, panics when he realizes a little girl has seen him shoot her mom. Putting aside the fact that the chances of her identifying him are super slim (she’s never met him before and he doesn’t live locally,) he supposedly has a clear code wherein he only kills people who ask him to--think more Jack Kervorkian, less John Wayne Gacy. So it seems almost comically melodramatic when he picks up an ax (instead of firing the gun in his hand) and...axes her to death, as my brother used to say. 

IDK. If this books hadn’t taken itself SO SERIOUSLY maybe all of these disparate events could have been brought together in a way that didn’t make me groan aloud. But around the time Libby meets her niece, and said niece and niece’s mom chase her threw the woods (possibly with axes??) trying to kill her, this book’s inability to give even the smallest nod to its own insanity did me in. 

What would I change? If we’re talking radical changes, this book could have been a dark (like really, really dark) spoof/satire of the genre. It had the ingredients--murderer fangirls, a snarky protagonist, a series of increasingly bananas unfortunate events, and murders/attempted murders that were so ridiculously contrived that the moment when it’s revealed there’s two murderers could have been hilariously over the top instead of groan-inducing. If we’re talking small changes...have Lyle be Ben and Diondra’s kid, not random psycho daughter. I think it would really add something if Lyle sought Libby out, possibly for revenge, possibly out of curiosity, possibly out of a desire to free his father. Libby and Lyle’s bumbling attempts at playing detective are definitely some of the best parts of the book, and I think making them aunt and nephew instead of potential love interests would have made the book much tighter. 

*For real though, if you find yourself in a desperate situation, take a look at these resources. There are numbers to call for different kinds of challenges. This particular link has resources for people in the US, UK, Ireland, Australia, and Germany. http://www.postsecretcommunity.com/news-faq/wellness