#house construction site’ etc etc

[goldkirk]

being the youngest person on my team by like 10 years sometimes is REALLY obvious because everyone is talking about home construction and high school kid sports and stuff and my weekly update is “I got a Razor scooter and some new glitter paint”

[neoarchipelago]

And they were Roommates (part 15)

A/N: I feel like i keep saying this but, all my chapters are long... SOO anyway. I don't know how i feel about this chapter, i'm torn between hating it and hating myself. Reviews are greatly appreciated and please be honest, don't try to make me happy, i truly want constructive critisim, so go on my babies, break my heart.

Also all lot of you seem to want to be my good girls or good boys. So yeah, sure, i'll be ya'lls mommy.

Yes. Hate me.

Warnings: Mentions of death, injury, 18+ content etc, just minors don't. F-Reader.

You sighed. Turning around in the black sheets. You could still smell his cologne in them. It's been two weeks. And you missed him like hell. You missed his voice, his touch, his eyes. You touched your neck. He had taken his dog tags with him. It felt like you lacked something now.

You groaned, throwing one of the pillows over your head. A knock rang in the room. 

"Sparrow. Come on. Get up." Bishop called through the door. 

You groaned again as a response. 

"Come on!" 

"Fine!" 

You decided to get up. You'd spend the day in bed otherwise and you had to go to base. The squad had joined Los Vaqueros to hunt down the two cartel's bosses. You had stayed behind with bishop and Coyote to remotely track any Intel on the dark web. Aquila, Carkeys and Grim went on site to collect Intel and use drones and other equipment to help the squad. 

You spent time in between the base and your house where Melissa and the team joined you as often as they could. 

It took an hour at best to get to base with everyone. You had walked into the IT quarters with a coffee in hand. 

"Rough morning?" Laswell asked. 

"Where are they?" You asked. 

She shook her head with a smile on her lips. 

"They got into the city last night. They managed to get a few high ups of the cartel." Coyote explained. 

"We managed to capture some conversations on a blank website. Two of their hackers were trying to throw false Intel to throw us off. But we managed to find their ID's which was much more interesting." Bishop added. 

You nodded sitting down at your computer. 

"Grim and Carkeys are following closely the squad with the drones and satellite images. We have made sure to protect those and are gate keeping them so they can't use those to track our soldiers." 

You sighed of relief.

"I wouldn't have made it without you guys… thank you…" you said. 

Bishop winked at you while coyote smiled. 

"Aquila is making sure they're safe, keeping track of their equipments." 

You took a deep breath. 

"Alright back to work." 

You got back to work, trying to focus as best as you could on it. The day passed by in a flash again. You felt like the anxiety would kill you at every new piece of information coming your way. At the end of the day you looked around the room full of screens. 

"Hey sparrow, come here" Bishop called with a smile. 

You walked up to her, blinking as you looked down at her screen. 

"HEY THERE!" Soap's voice rang. 

You felt a rush of adrenaline. 

"We managed to create a remote link so we could video call with their base." Coyote explained, the freckled on her nose dancing as she smiled. 

"Thank you… hey soap. How are you guys?" You asked. 

"We are good here, we are getting closer to the target." Gaz answered. 

You smiled at them. Price and Alejandro now appeared behind them. You noticed the blush on Coyote's face. 

"Oh, look, it's our ladies!" Price called. 

You chuckled as the girls giggled. 

"Princesa!" Alejandro called. 

As by magic, it immediately summoned him. HIM. Your breath caught in your front. Simon.

"My princess." 

His voice was rough. Ghost was on edge. Alejandro raised his hands up, showing there was no sign of threat from him. 

"Hey…" you greeted with a smile. 

He nodded. 

The conversation kept going, now Carkeys, Aquila and Grim showing up as well. It felt nice to be able to talk with everyone, but all you wanted was to tell him you missed him. You needed him. You wanted two minutes alone with him just to tell him you loved him again. It must have shown. Because the team did exactly that. 

You were now sitting in front of the screen with only him. Only him. 

"Hey…" you said again. 

"Say it bunny." 

You smirked. 

"I miss you… want my Simon back." 

He chuckled. 

"Miss you too bunny." He said. 

"Is everything ok on your side? You aren't hurt?" You worried. 

"I'm fine. Don't worry darling. I'll be home soon. Alright?" 

You nodded. You heard Price calling in the back, marking the end of the call. He got closer to the screen, you did too. 

"Simon… I love you…" 

You saw through the pixels how his pupils dilated at the sound of the words. 

"Don't do this to me bunny… I'm too far away to fuck you into my mattress…" 

You smiled, biting your lip. He wouldn't say it. Not yet. But you'd be patient. 

"Guess you're going to have to come back for that." You teased. 

He chuckled. You bid your goodbyes, heart heavy. 

You stared at the now black screen. You were doomed. Completely doomed. He was king of your thoughts at all times. He had managed to capture the little sparrow and make it his. You closed your eyes, biting your lip. 

"You alright?" 

You opened your eyes looking at the girls next to you. You smiled faintly nodding at them. 

"They'll be fine. They've had to fight worse." Bishop started. 

"And they have us. We'll keep them safe." Coyote added. 

You sighed. You nodded faintly. 

"Come on. Let's go home." 

You turned around to notice Laswell standing not too far as well. You stood up, the girls heading to the door. You took a last glance at the black screen before following them. 

The next few days, things started to get complicated. Tension kept rising for everyone. You'd spend more time at base. Sometimes staying there overnight. Laswell was keeping an eye on you like a hawk. But you couldn't get yourself to go home. You had ended up bringing Reaper with you everywhere. No one had commented on it. 

You were looking at the fluffy plush on your big desk. The sound of panic made your blood run cold. You stood immediately, watching everyone's voice rise and run. 

"What's going on?!" You asked. 

Bishop froze looking up at you. 

"An attack. We've lost communication." 

You cursed, sitting back down and getting to work on your computer. 

You were focused on trying to find a link, a connection, anything to create a form of communication. Every ticking second felt heavier on you. You felt trapped in an hourglass, sand filling up and pouring around you. Suffocating. 

Soon the seconds turned to minutes. Minutes to hours. You were on the verge of a breakdown. 

"We got them!" 

You ran to the screens. 

"Bravo six ?" Laswell called. 

You held your breath. 

"Bravo six do you copy?!" She called again. 

Silence. Heavy silence. 

"Bravo six copy." The rough voice rang. 

You closed your eyes, releasing the air in your lungs. Price's voice filled you with relief. 

"What's your status bravo six?" 

"Took a hit, lost a few guys, but squad 141 is operational."

Laswell turned to you. You wanted to cry. You wouldn't. Not in front of everyone. They're fine. Fuck… he's ok. 

You sat in a nearby chair. You let them talk over the radio as your mind tried to grasp what happened. You had almost lost him. It hit you how fragile this was. You could lose him at any second. You felt dizzy for a second. You looked up to see Bishop and Coyote with worried looks on their faces. 

"Bishop. Coyote." You called. 

They turned to you. You called them to you. 

"Let's not pretend I don't see your worried looks. I can see you guys have got a little something for a certain captain and a sergeant." You smiled. 

Coyote blushed and Bishop smirked. You grabbed their hands.

"We're ok. We're gonna make it. We're together." You tried to comfort. 

"Of course we are. That mohawk cutie better come back. Got to take him out." Bishop teased. 

You smiled. 

"Well… i…i don't know if the captain would be interested…" Coyote said with a little frown. 

"Ah don't worry. We'll help you with that." Bishop teased again. 

You nodded, winking at her. 

"Come on, let's get back to work." You concluded. 

You stayed all night. You had used the locker rooms to shower and change. Laswell kept nagging you to go home but you refused. Melissa had passed by with Amy, bringing some food and snacks. You had enjoyed the time with them. But it got late and they had to leave. The room was awfully quiet at night. Bishop and Coyote had gone back home as well, they needed rest. 

You needed it too. But your mind was a mess.

You couldn't get it out of your head that you had lost contact with the team and almost lost them. It felt sour. You held Reaper in your arms. Your eyes burnt a bit. You were tired. Laswell was still here. She kept throwing glances at you. 

"Hey… you should sleep." She repeated again. 

You looked at the bottom of the screen. 4 am. 

"I know… but I can't…" you whispered. 

She walked off with a sigh. 

You refused. You refused to leave. You needed to stay here. This was the closest to him you could be. And for the moment, this is what you needed.  

The next morning the team had walked in. You had nodded off around 5am but woken up an hour after. Bishop had brought coffees and snacks. You were grateful for it. 

You felt heavy worried stares. You ignored them, drowning yourself back into work. 

"Sparrow." Bishop called softly. 

You blinked. Standing up. You felt dizzy again for a second but brushed it off. You walked to her. You closed your eyes for a second when you saw it. The screen showed an empty website. Pictures of bloodied dog tags lined up. 

"Tell me It's not what I think it is…" you said. 

"I'm afraid… it's exactly what it is…" coyote explained in a sad voice. 

"They're keeping them as trophies. For each soldier they've killed." Bishop added with a hint of disgust in her voice. 

You looked at the names on the little metal collars. 

"I'll go report to Laswell… keep an eye on these…" you said. 

You felt a knot in your throat as you walked out of the room.

 

Having that kind of talk was rough. And it had been, for you and for Laswell. Families had to know the truth, and condolences had to be sent with proper decoration for lost soldiers. You knew it would never heal the emptiness the news will leave in these people's hearts. You had walked back to the IT's wing. Bishop had dragged you to a screen immediately. 

You felt your heart drop at first, your mind instantly thinking about the worst things. 

"Oh look at our little mama bird…" 

Your eyes filled with tears. The image was blurry. The sound wasn't top quality, but the faces on screen made you want to cry. 

"Johnny…" you tried with a little smile. 

Bishop hugged you as soon as she saw your glossy eyes. Coyote held your hand in here. 

"Come on, we're all ok! Gonna need more than that!" Alejandro joked. 

"We were worried about you guys!" Bishop scolded. 

"Yes… please be careful…" coyote added. 

"Look at that, our ladies got all worried about us…" Price said, winking at the screen. 

You felt Coyote tense. You smiled to yourself squeezing her hand softly. 

"I haven't seen Konig in a while, how's he?" You asked. 

"Well he's been spending a lot of time with Grim. They keep talking in German so… we have no idea what they're saying." Gaz explained. 

"They get along very well though!" Soap said with a wink. 

"Where's..?" You asked. 

"Hum… not too far. He's a bit…" gaz started. 

"Pissed. He's pissed." Soap finished. 

You sighed. 

"I'll go get him." Alejandro said. 

You nodded. The rest of the team talked a bit. 

"It's getting complicated. They're feeling surrounded. Becoming more aggressive.." coyote warned. 

"Yeah… we're going to change tactics here." Price added. 

The call suddenly fell silent. The boys rose, nodding as they walked away. Bishop and Coyote dropped a kiss on each side of your face before stepping away.  

"Simon…" 

The word fell from your lips. It was like a call to an unknown god. 

"Y/N." You heard. "You haven't been sleeping well." His voice was stern. 

Your face dropped. 

"You almost died." You countered. 

"Bunny." He warned..

"Simon." You said in the same tone. 

He sighed. 

"I'm ok. I'm worried about you right now" 

Somehow it did not comfort you. You were worried about him!

"You have to sleep. You hear me?" He scolded. 

You sighed too. You nodded slowly. 

"Good girl." He praised. 

It made you smile. 

"Have you been sleeping in my bed?" He asked. 

You bit your lip. 

"Maybe…" 

He leaned closer to the camera. 

"Good. I love it when my pillow smells like you." 

You smiled. 

"You'll have me next to you. You won't need that." You teased. 

"Hmm. Careful bunny. I'm not going to forget those words." 

"You better not. I hope it motivates you to come back." 

He chuckled. The sound of his laugh warmed you. 

"On my way baby…" 

A month. A full month and half. You were going insane. People probably thought you were insane, walking around base with Reaper hanging out of your bag. You had been forced by Laswell and Simon, over a video call, to go out with Melissa for a few hours after work. You had finally given in. There you were, in front of a restaurant on base. 

Melissa welcomed you with a hug as you walked to your table in the restaurant. 

"How are you feeling?" She asked. 

You shrugged. 

"Could be much better… could be much worse." 

She smiled at you. 

"How about you? Any news on Eric?" You asked with a worried voice. 

"No, not any. Since you talked to Hopkins I feel babysitted at all times." She said, rolling her eyes. 

"Good. Very good." You answered with a smile. 

She laughed, making you relax. The dinner spent with her lifted some stress and pressure off your shoulders. You had to be honest, it helped you feel better. You had insisted to pay for dinner, it had helped you so much. As you walked out of the restaurant, the cold air made you shiver. You were talking to Melissa when she happily waved at someone. 

You turned to watch the K.9 team discussing, not too far. You walked to them. 

"Sergeant Gallegos !" A woman greeted. 

"Hey Jenny." She greeted back. 

The woman turned to you, palling a bit. The German shepherd next to her sitting calmly, its pink tongue out, did not let her master leave its sight. 

"Sparrow.." she tried with a bit less friendlyness. 

You smiled, trying to relax her. 

"Don't worry, I'm out here completely harmless." You assured. 

Her shoulders seemed to relax a bit as she smiled. 

"What are you guys doing tonight?" Melissa asked. 

"Oh hum… we're out to throw a goodbye party…." She answered with a little sadness in her voice.

"Oh… someone leaving?" You asked. 

She nodded turning her body so you could look behind her. The team was talking, their k9s on leash next to them. You frowned, confused. Jenny walked over to them, making Melissa and you follow her. 

"Guys, Sergeant Gallegos and … Sparrow came to say hi." 

You waved with a warm smile. You were glad they didn't seem too nervous around you. 

"So, who's leaving?" Melissa asked. 

"Oh… it's um… it's him." A man said. 

You followed his gaze. A black shepherd laid on the ground. His beautiful brown eyes shining under the restaurants lights. 

"Oh he's retiring?" You asked. 

"Hum not really…" another said. 

"Can… I?" You asked. 

Jenny nodded. 

You stepped towards the dog kneeling next to it slowly. You let him sniff your hand as his head rose. He let you pet him, making you smile. 

"His soldier was KIA. He hasn't been eating since." The soldier holding the leash explained. 

"KIA?" You asked. 

"Killed in action." Melissa explained. 

"Oh…" you frowned. 

"Sometimes it happens. The dogs see their soldiers die and refuse to eat for a little while. With time and lots of patience and love it usually gets better. But… he just seems to have given up." Jenny explained. 

"He's been through foster homes and vets but… he just gave up." Another soldier explained. 

You felt your heart shatter as you looked into it's eyes. 

"What's going to happen to him.." Melissa asked. 

"Well… I'm afraid he'll have to be… you know…" he explained. 

You bit your lip. You felt the colar underneath your fingers, through the semi long furr of his neck. You grabbed the little tag on it reading the name. 

"Riley …" you let out. 

"Oh… Sparrow…" Melissa tried. 

You felt something like a flash coursing through your blood. Something that urged you to do something. 

"Is there no other way?" You asked, turning to Jenny. 

"Well… we've tried everything… we can't chose for him… and in the end it's the commander's choice… even if it breaks the team's hearts" she said. 

You bit your lip. Looking back at the big pup, you felt yourself melt and at the same time cry inside. He looked down… like he had truly given up. He missed his soldier. His family. Just like you. 

"Sparrow… i don't think that's a good idea." You heard Melissa, as she seemed to read your mind. 

But it was too late, you had already made your decision.

"I'll take him." You said in a decisive tone.

The team looked at each other, taken a back. 

"Ma'am… I don't think you can…" a woman said. 

"The commander's orders…" Jenny tried too. 

"Get your commander on call. Tell him Sparrow wants to keep K9 Riley." You said with a smile. 

She hesitated. Melissa had given up on trying to tell you no. She was just smiling, her arms crossed. Jenny turned to Melissa who simply nodded. As Jenny took out her cellphone, the team seemed to perk up. 

"Ma'am… are you really going to keep him?" The soldier holding the leash asked. 

You nodded with a big smile. 

"It'll take time… but I have patience. And all the time in the world." You said. 

Jenny started speaking on the phone. The team fell silent. 

"Hum… the commander would like to speak to you…" she said. 

"Sure! Put him on speaker." You agreed. 

She did. She walked up to you and put the phone on speaker. The team surrounded you.  You almost wanted to laugh at the team around you. How silent they were. 

"Hello?" The phone rang. 

"Hello commander." You greeted. 

Silence. Melissa held herself from laughing out loud. 

"Sparrow?" 

"Yes, commander?" 

"Hum… are you really asking to take one of the K9's?" 

"Absolutely. Is there a problem with my request…?" 

"Well… more than one but… I'm not sure I'm allowed to refuse either." 

You laughed a bit. 

"You can. But I usually get what I want." 

"What should I even say to General Hopkins?" 

"The exact truth. I met Riley. I decided to keep it. I told you. You couldn't refuse. That's all." 

You leaned down again, petting the black dog. 

"Hum.." he hesitated.

"If he has something to say. Please tell him to directly come to me." You warned. 

The team looked shocked. Melissa rolled her eyes. 

"Well… alright, I'll take care of the paperwork and have it delivered to you to sign by the sergeant." 

The soldiers around jumped happily, silently though. You smiled to yourself. Was this a very thoughtful decision? No. It definitely wasn't responsible but you'd make sure to own up to your brand new responsibilities. 

"Thank you commander, have a good night." 

Jenny took back her phone, ending the call after a few last words with her commander. The team cheered. Melissa smiled at you. 

"We have to celebrate!" One said. 

"I can't believe this just turned into a celebration" Jenny cheered. 

"Yeah… Sparrow has a thing for Riley's." Melissa teased. 

The team awkwardly looked at each other. 

"So… it's true? For… you and Lieutenant…" jenny asked. 

You nodded trying to not make a fuss out of it. 

"He said he wanted a dog. I think he'll be thrilled… or probably scold me but he'll get around eventually." You joked. 

The team laughed a bit. 

"Let's grab a drink!" A man said. 

"Oh… well… just one. We got lots of work tomorrow…" Melissa said. 

"Yeah. And I got to find lots of stuff for my new furr baby." You said. 

"We'll help you with that! We can give you a few stuff for the night." Jenny assured. 

You smiled. 

"Alright. One drink." 

You walked to the car with your new friend. You were surprised how Riley followed you without a problem. You opened the passenger door of the black jeep. Simon had left his car obviously, and insisted that you'd use it. You looked down at the dog, sitting, looking up at you. 

"Come on Riley. Let's go home." 

He seemed to understand as he jumped into front seat. You closed the door, dropping all the things the team had given you in the backseat. Walking around the car you got into the driver's seat. The black dog was sitting next to you, looking at you. 

"It's ok. We'll be ok." You assured. 

You turned the key, heading home. 

You walked into the doorway. The house was quiet..empty. You turned on the lights as you closed the door behind you. You bent down to take off the leash. Riley didn't move. You started walking to the kitchen, watching him follow you slowly. He really looked sad. You dropped the things on the counter. You looked down at the dog who looked at you. 

You grabbed the bag of dog food, walking to get a bowl. You filled it with food and grabbed another bowl to fill it with water. Walking back to the dog and softly putting down the bowls in front of him. He looked at them. He went for the water, lapping a bit. He smelled the food but refused to eat. You sighed. Of course it wouldn't be that easy. You sat down on the floor next to him. He laid down next to you, looking at you. 

You grabbed his collar softly, petting the sides of his head. 

"I know… I know… you miss your soldier." 

He whined. 

"I miss mine too…" 

The next day you had warned Laswell you'd be a bit late. She didn't mind. You had drove with Riley to the base's Vet. 

You walked in with him heading for the receptionist.

"Hi, good morning, I'd like to buy some dog food and vitamins." You asked the man. 

"Oh… hum.. Sparrow…i mean… ma'am…" he stuttered. 

"It's alright. Breath." You smiled. 

He did so. He looked relieved. 

"Hum… so you have a dog?" He asked. 

"It's very recent but yes." You said looking to your side. 

The big black dog was sitting next to you, looking up at you. The man rose above the counter to look down. 

"Oh.. that's…that's Riley…" he said. 

"You know him?" You frowned. 

"Hum… yeah. We took care of him when he came back from the field… and when he refused to eat. I thought he was going to be put down." He said with a frown. 

"I decided to take him in." You said. 

The man smiled. 

"I'll be right back gonna see for the vitamins, I'll help you choose some food for him." He said. 

You nodded with a smile. Other soldiers stood with their dogs in the waiting room. They looked at you, recognizing you and the black dog. They seemed anxious. Suddenly you heard the voices from behind the counter, in the back of the clinic. 

"Tell this woman she's waisting her time. The dog was scheduled to be put down this afternoon and I can still do it. But she's waisting money and time." 

You frowned, feeling the anger rise. 

"Hum… ma'am… I think we shouldn't…" the receptionist tried. 

"Fine I'll tell her myself. It's stupid to waist vitamins and food on a hopeless dog." 

Now you were furious. You felt a nudge in your palm. You looked next to you at the dog looking at you intensely. You bent down to pet him and drop a kiss on top of his head. You heard the voice get closer to the front desk. You were hidden behind it as you were cuddling Riley. 

"Where is she?! Ma'am I suggest you hand the dog over, he should be put-" 

You rose to your feet, eyeing the angry woman. She had frozen in spot. You glanced down looking at her badge, taking in her name. The room had fallen silent. 

"I didn't come to ask for your opinion. Did I?" You spat. 

Her gaze faltered. 

"You'd be kind enough to give me what I asked please." 

The woman cleared her throat. 

"I have to remind you-" she tried, in a softer tone. 

"Again. Didn't ask." You answered angrily. 

She swallowed. 

"You're not gonna give it to me?" You asked, raising a brow. "Very well. Hum… dr… Jenkins." You squinted your eyes exaggeratedly. 

"Come on Riley, let's go somewhere else." You turned around before stopping. 

"Wait! Hum.. we'll give you the vitamins and food. But you're waisting your time." She said. 

"You're the one waisting my time. And I'm getting pissed." You warned, looking back at her. 

Riley whined. You looked down at him, petting his head. 

"Hum… how about we look into the different foods?" The receptionist asked, trying to ease the situation.. 

You nodded, throwing a dark glance at the vet. You'd be sure to have a talk with Laswell and Hopkins later. 

An hour later your arrived at the IT's IQ. Riley followed you inside, you had a bag with dog food, a water bottle and a cappuccino in hand. The room fell quiet when they saw you walk in with the black shepherd.

"Hum… Sparrow." Laswell called confused. "What's that?" 

"A cappuccino." You answered. 

She rolled her eyes. 

"Sparrow. Why do you have a dog?" She asked. 

"Oh. That's Riley. He's my dog now." You said matter of factly. 

Bishop laughed while coyote looked confused, gasping. Laswell looked just as confused. You decided to go to your desk to sit at your chair. Riley had followed you, laying down at your feet. 

"No. No. Sparrow. We're not going to ignore this." 

You put Reaper down. It seemed to get Riley's attention. He stood, siting now. You looked at the dog, then at the plush. 

"We can share. But you need to be gentle with it. Ok?" You said. 

The dog tilted his head to the side, curious. You picked up the plush, slightly worried of your next action. You gave it to him. He very gently grabbed it with his mouth, falling back down to the floor. He put it down in between his paws, sniffing and pushing his nose into it. He was gentle with it, and did not sink his teeth. You smiled, turning back to your computer. 

"No! Sparrow! We're going to talk about this!" Laswell warned.

You did not, in fact, talk about it.

The day turned out to be much more important than you thought. It turns out the day prior the boys were very close to tracking down the brothers. And they had finally reached their targets. You had been feeling an absolute mess. You had noticed it seemed to affect Riley. He stood closer to you. Nudged your hand or leg, grasping your attention. 

You'd always pet him or cuddle him. When the news had finally fallen that they had gotten their hands on the target, the room filled with joy. It was over. The mission was a success. But not to you. Not until you had him next to you. Bishop and Coyote were stoked. Laswell was smiling at you. Yes. It relaxed you. But you only had him in mind. Only his arms around you. 

"Hey. It's over. They're coming back." Coyote said. 

You took a deep breath. Yes. They were coming back. 

You remained in the room for hours. Even after. You remained until you knew they were back on their base. Bishop and Coyote we're much more relaxed. Laswell kept in touch with the general once in a while and the authorities there. You just wanted to talk to him. You were glad they had finally caught the cartel brothers. But your mind kept running to him. He was finally coming home. 

You smiled at the pup next to you. He seemed to be curious and to watch you very often. Through the day you tried to feed him little pieces of treats or food. He had first fully refused, then slowly bitten a treat. You had been delighted, causing him to perk his ears up at your reaction. You showered him with 'good boy' and pets. Laswell kept trying to question you about your new companion and you ignored it. 

He had attracted all the attention from the women in the room and some men too. 

When the sun had started to set outside, you were called to video chat with the team. 

"Hey!!" Bishop called to the screen. 

"Well hello there, pretty eyes." Soap flirted. 

"Get out, you'll flirt later!" Gaz groaned. 

You smiled. 

Price and Simon weren't present. You chatted with the group, Konig, grim, Carkeys, Áquila… it felt great to know they were ok. 

"We're getting an extraction in a few hours! We'll be home soon!" Car-Keys said, relief in his voice. 

You had rolled your eyes, the girl nagging him about when he had lost his Car Keys on a field mission.

When Simon finally showed up, he greeted the girls before the rest of the team gave you a little privacy. 

"I got a surprise for you!" You smiled at the screen. 

"Hmm a surprise?" He looked curious. 

You picked up the big dog into your arms, Riley licking your face. 

"His name is Riley !" You happily announced. 

You heard him chuckle. 

"Where did you get a dog?" He asked, a hint of a smile in his voice. 

"He was being taken to be put down… his soldier was KIA. He wasn't eating, he let himself die. We're slowly getting used to each other, he eats very tiny pieces…I'm trying to get him to feel safe." You explained. 

There was a little silence before he spoke again. 

"Here you go again… saving a Riley." 

You blushed, looking at the screen. The pixels weren't enough. Not anymore. You wanted your soldier back. 

"Come back to me…" you said. 

"I'm coming home, baby. We have plans."

You bit your lip through a smile. Yes. He was coming home.

 

Night had settled in. You had driven home right after ending the call. For the past 2 hours you had been happily roaming around the house. Riley was curious watching you pace around. For dinner, you sat down on the floor next to him, trying to motivate him to eat. He had not eaten his food. He had accepted two little bites of the steak you were eating. It was enough to cause a happy squeal from you each time. 

It was almost midnight when the girls showed up. Melissa included. Amy was with a babysitter for the occasion. Bishop had brought a bottle of  vodka to celebrate the end of the mission. 

Riley always remained close to you. The girls loved to pet him. A conversation had settled in, time passing by without any of you noticing. Eventually, it was 2 am, and you were giggling together. You had decided to only drink a shot or two, not really wanting to get drunk. 

Riley was laying on the couch with you, bishop and Coyote we're cuddling on another couch with Melissa at the other end.  

"God! You need to be more confident darling! We see how he looks at you. He's curious" Bishop teased. 

"He's… I don't know…" Coyote blushed. 

"I say. Go for it." Melissa added. 

You giggled again.

A knock interrupted your conversation. You heard the door unlock. You frowned before hearing Laswell's voice. 

"We're here Kate!" You chuckled. 

The girls laughed too, a new friend entering the circle promised more jokes and gossip.

When Kate stepped into the room, the air shifted. Hopkins walked behind her. The air had grown suffocating. You had lost your smile. The girls had gone silent. They were dressed officially. 

"Kate?" You questioned.

She seemed to swallow hard, eyes not leaving yours. You stood up, the girls doing the same. You walked over to them, the tiny footsteps of Riley on the floor following you. You crossed your arms in a comforting movement. 

"Squad 141 initiated extraction 45 minutes ago." Hopkins started.

You frowned. 

"During extraction, they were confronted with an ambush." He continued. 

You felt your heart drop. Was he injured? What happened?

"Can you skip to the news please?" Bishop interrupted. 

He looked at her, thinking. 

"Listen… Y/N…" Kate stepped forwards to you. 

You felt the walls closing in. Something terrible hovering over your head. 

You felt a nudge on your arm. Riley tried to keep you grounded to reality. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just… something else. You were overreacting. 

Kate looked torn. She wanted to talk, obviously. But something seemed to hold her back. 

Hopkins sighed, clearing his throat. 

"We are sad and sorry to inform you that Lieutenant Simon Riley and Captain John Price were KIA." 

What.. what was that? That sound… your ears were buzzing. You felt nauseous. You felt like your whole body had gotten heavier. Like it no longer belonged to you.

"No." You let out. 

"Y/N. Listen to me, please.." Kate tried. 

She reached for your hand but you took a step back. 

"No. That's… no." You looked at her. "Kate…" you begged. 

Her eyes were filled with tears. She didn't speak. She looked away. It was true. It was… 

Hopkins took a step forward. Riley suddenly growled, inching closer to your leg. 

"Sparrow, I would advise you to-" 

"Get out." 

Silence fell. 

"What..?" Kate questioned. 

"Get out. All of you." You said again. 

You felt surrounded. Your brain felt on fire yet you felt like you were drowning. 

We have plans.

"Y/N…" bishop tried. 

"Please. Get. Out." You warned. 

Melissa grabbed Coyote by the shoulders, hugging her. They walked towards the door, Bishop and Kate following, dragging Hopkins with them. You heard the front door close. 

Silence. Deafening silence. 

You let yourself kneel to the floor, Riley alert next to you. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be true. No. 

You felt something fall on your hand. You looked down, the little droplets shining under the light. You were crying. You felt like someone was ripping your heart out. 

Your mind had decided to torture you, reenacting every kiss, every hug every promise in a tangling loop. It felt like you could hear his voice. Him. Calling for you. But it wasn't true. It wasn't real. Never again…

For the second time in your life, you screamed. You screamed until something deep in your throat broke. And just like last time. Under attack in the training grounds. You screamed for him. You poured your mind, soul, heart into a scream you knew. You knew despite the mind wrecking hope. He would not answer this time.

-----

Everything must come to an end...

or not...

SIKE

see you on chapter 16

[useless-bulgariafacts]

October 26th is Dimìtrovden/Mitrovden (Димитровден), or the Orthodox feast day of St. Demetrius of Thessaloniki. (Bulgarian: Свети Димитър Солунски) He is a 3rd-4th century Christian saint and great martyr (великомъченик) from the city of Thessaloniki in Greece, of which he is the patron saint.

Hagiographies refer to St. Demetrius as a young man of a senatorial family, who became proconsul and was tasked with persecuting Christians in the at the time still pagan Roman Empire. However, being himself Christian, he instead protected them, for which the emperor had him jailed. He was later speared to death as punishment for the defeat of the gladiator Lyaeus at the hands of Demetrius' disciple, Nestor. This marked the beginning of his veneration by Christians in the area, which grew in the following centuries, as he was said to guard the city against raiders.

Albeit not one originally, during the Middle Ages St. Demetrius came to be revered as a warrior saint, and iconography portrays him riding on a red horse, running a spear through various enemies — often Lyaeus, but also whoever was locally perceived as an enemy. In Greek icons, this is sometimes the Bulgarian tsar Kaloyan, while in Bulgarian ones — the Byzantine emperor Basil II The Bulgarslayer, or later on, a Turk. St. Demetrius is also associated with the founding of the Second Bulgarian Tsardom, specifically the uprising of the brothers Petăr and Asen, which broke out on Oct. 26th, 1185. The St. Demetrius church in Veliko Tărnovo (pictured above) was built in commemoration the event, and served as a coronation site of Asen dynasty tsars, who claimed him as their patron.

Traditionally, Dimitrovden marks the end of the seasonal transition from fall to winter, a period which begins on Oct. 14th with Petkovden. Bulgarian folk mythology casts the saints George and Demetrius in the role of twin brothers, whose respective holidays split the year into its warm and cold halves. The latter, elder of the two, ushers in the cold and darkness, as he rides in on his red horse and the winter's first snowflakes sprinkle down onto the earth from his beard. As St. George's opposite and counterpart, he takes on the qualities of a chthonic deity, and thus has connotations to death and the Beyond — under his patronage the so-called Dimitrovska Zadushnica takes place on the Saturday prior to Dimitrovden, one of several such holidays where food is given out in honor of deceased ancestors. Perhaps this is also why, in addition to St. George, folk imagination places him as a brother to Archangel Michael and nephew to St. Paraskeva/Petka.

Dimitrovden is the true end to the year's agrarian cycle — the harvest now over, it's time to put the farm tools away, make sure the animals have shelter and firewood is stocked up. It's also when farmhands and other labourers' contracts expire and they get rehired for the year ahead, which is why the day is also known as Razpust (Разпуст). As with other big holidays, a community-wide celebratory feast is held, and the customary ritual meal (or kurban) is mutton. The biggest ram is chosen, a pair of gold-painted apples are placed onto its horns and those present bow before it, after which it's slaughtered and cooked, and receives a priest's blessing before being served. Festivities are accompanied by music and horo (group dancing), which again has an intended matchmaking function. Namesakes of the saint celebrate the occasion, too — but they're traditionally served a chicken or rooster dish, according to gender. Other foods for Dimitrovden include corn, seasonal fruit and derived dishes, such as apple pita, pestil (a type of plum dessert), rachel (pumpkin syrup), etc.

Another activity which traditionally ends on Dimitrovden is construction work — a new house is supposed to have been completed by then, and the homeowners celebrate by throwing their own feast with a kurban, and inviting friends and relatives to witness the house being blessed by the master mason and the priest. The feast day has therefore been adopted as a career holiday of builders and masons.

The day's connection to the mysterious and otherworldly has inspired various beliefs and rituals of prognostic or divinatory nature, and anything from the weather and moon phases, to the behaviour of farm animals is observed carefully and used to make future predictions. Characteristic is the custom, known as polazvane (полазване), wherein members of the household make note of the first person to visit them, to physically cross the threshold into their home, and interpret them as a portent of things to come. Also, according to old treasure hunting legends, Dimitrovden is when "the sky opens" and buried gold emits a blue-ish flame just above ground.

Dimitrovden is part of the group of holidays, based around the idea of transition and liminality; between fall and winter, between the world of the living and of the dead. The Christian and pre-Christian symbolism intertwine, the martyr death of the saint mirrors the "death" of nature as the earth is covered in snow and daytime engulfed by darkness. And crucially — for a people whose perception of time follows nature's cycles — the coming of winter brings not only a period of calm and rest, but the promise of spring and renewal.

[tieronecrush]

hot & heavy

chapter twelve: sunshine baby

neighbor!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

series rating: E (18+ MDNI)

series summary:

over the course of three summers, joel miller becomes woven into your life. the first summer is spent falling for him; nannying his daughter and sneaking around with him in a burning love affair. you know how you feel about joel, he isn’t so sure about how it all is gonna work. the second summer is brief. a month spent at home after graduation and before you move to boston for your dream job. one look at you, one time hearing your voice, and joel is hooked again. he pines over you for that month, but you think — how is long distance of over a thousand miles going to work for a single dad? the third summer, you return home burnt out and pride bruised from your post-grad life. you need time to feel at home again, like your complete self, so you’ve come back home with no return ticket booked. it’s only a matter of time before joel seeks you out, slowly spending more time with you. without an inevitable end to the summer looming over you both, what chances are you willing to take?

word count: 6.7k

warnings: NO OUTBREAK (don’t need to worry about the mushies), no use of y/n, inexperienced reader, age gap (joel is 30/31, reader is 22), canon-divergent (sarah is 7 y/o), nanny au, pet names (sweetheart, darling, sweet girl, mariposa, etc.), feeling familial and self-pressure, established relationship, spanish cause joel is latino, oral (m receiving), dirty talkkk king joel miller, soft joel, possessive joel, mentions of depression and symptoms, struggling with self, discussion of parenting, angst, arguing, i'm sorry </3

a/n: everyone go give @northernbluess all the love for always helping me with beta-ing AND cause we are gonna be writing a fic together :)))) more info on her monthly recap posted the other day xx love ya bestie! y'all enjoy this chapter (i have a feeling it will be RIP to my notifs)

Mid-week, your usual nanny family lets you know that they won’t need you for the day and to take the day off. With no other plans, you decide to visit Joel at his work site for the day to bring him lunch. You throw something together and head out from the neighborhood, calling him on speakerphone. It rings a few times before the line clicks and his voice projects from the small speakers on your cell phone.

“Hi, Mari baby. What’s going on? Is something wrong? You never call when you’re working.” Joel’s side of the line is filled with background noise, men shouting, and construction sounds of hammers, saws, and machinery.

“Hey, J. Nothing’s wrong, I actually have the day off. Kristie called this morning after you left to say she was staying home for the day so I’ve got nothing to do,” you hold up your phone as you come to a stoplight, “So I thought I would come to visit you for a little bit. I made you some lunch. Where are you at today?”

Joel’s smile is evident throughout his response, his voice getting louder to be heard over all the noise, “We’re at the Maple Avenue site. Right at the corner of Lake St. Not too far from home, so I guess I’ll see you soon?”

“I will see you in, like, ten minutes. Already on my way.” The two of you make a bit more conversation before Joel has to hang up, saying that he has to go tell someone ‘how to correctly install a support beam’.

“Alright, gotta go, sweetheart. Love you.”

“Love you too, J. See you soon.”

Exactly ten minutes later, you’re pulling up outside of the work site, confronted with the vague shape of a house with the framing up. You grab the cooler bag from your passenger side and climb out of the car, crossing the road and walking up to the younger of the two Miller brothers that you see standing in front of a table of plans and chatting with an employee.

Tommy looks up and grins when he sees you, clapping the other guy on the back to grab his attention, “Look who it is! Y’know, George, you better tell the guys that they better thank this woman right here — she’s the one who’s made Joel less insufferable.”

With a roll of your eyes, you stride up to Tommy and give him a hug in greeting before stretching out your hand to introduce yourself to George. He excuses himself to get back to his task at hand, leaving you with Tommy and waiting for Joel.

“So what d’ya bring me, sis? If you bring a treat, better have enough to share with the class.” He grins mischievously and reaches for the cooler in your hand.

“Eh, none of that, Tommy! If you ask nicely, I’ll give you the food I so graciously brought for you.” You smile and set the bag on the makeshift table of folding saw horses and a plank of composite. Unzipping the bag, you pull out the extra food you made for Tommy and pass it over, laughing when he pulls you in for a squeezing hug.

“God bless you, Posey, I was gonna have to have a gas station lunch today with the amount of shit we have to get done.”

“Quit squeezin’ the shit out of my girl, Tommy.” Joel’s voice fills your ears and you laugh when Tommy pulls away, happily picking up his sandwich and unwrapping it to take a large bite out of it.

“Hey, just thanking her for feeding me, too. Also, this is good as fuck.” He points to the food in his hand while Joel sidles up next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and kissing the top of your head.

“You’re welcome, Tommy,” you reply, grinning before turning to your side while Joel gently squeezes your shoulder. “Do you have some time for lunch now? Or should I wait around for a bit?”

Joel shakes his head and smiles, leaning down to press a chaste kiss on your lips, “I’ll make time for you whenever, darlin’. Think everyone can survive for a bit without me.”

“Y’all are too much. I’ve never seen my brother like this, Posey. Please continue to keep him happy cause he’s a much better boss these days.” Tommy laughs loudly when Joel shoots him a look of annoyance, the younger Miller turning to head into the framed home to check in on the rest of the work being done. Joel picks up the cooler bag from the table and takes your hand, nodding toward the street.

“C’mon, Mari, we can eat in the truck bed. Probably better than a construction site.”

The two of you sit on the edge of the truck bed, eat, and chat about the day. Joel mentions how much work he has left for the day, clearly stressed about getting enough done before he has to leave to get Sarah. You offer to pick her up from camp and bring her home, planning to make dinner so Joel can stay longer to get some extra tasks checked off his to-do list before the weekend.

After finishing up your meal, the two of you walk back up to the site, Joel taking you on a tour through the bones of the house. He explains the vision for each room and the finishes he’s going to propose to the family building it. You follow along with him, smiling at his enthusiasm as he gestures about bay windows and oak flooring.

When the two of you are standing alone in what will at one point become a bedroom with a view of the tree-lined backyard, Joel pauses and turns to you. Taking your hands in his, he looks down at them as he laces your fingers together before meeting your eyes with a tender smile.

“Y’know, I could build somethin’ like this for us one day. We could find a piece of land we love, maybe a little bit further out of the city to get some more space. Really make it our own…”

A squeeze of his hands reassures him in the moment, matching his sweet smile with your own, “That sounds wonderful, J. But I have to say, I like our house now.”

Your smile grows wider when Joel’s does, his brown eyes catching the midday sunlight and creases at their outer corners deepening along with his dimple. He pulls you into a tighter embrace, kissing you gently before nudging his nose against yours.

“Te amo, mi Mariposa.”

“I love you too, J.”

Music is playing from the CD player when Joel walks through the door later than he usually does. His shoulders are tense, his back is aching, and all he wants to do is sink down onto the couch and relax with you and Sarah. Toeing off his work boots and tossing his keys onto the entryway table, he bites back a smile hearing the slight commotion that is you cooking — some of that noise contributed by Sarah messing around with everything, too. 

The next song clicks over on the tracklist, the beginning notes of ‘Sara’ by Fleetwood Mac, a favorite in the Miller home since his little girl was born. He remembers singing it to her when she was an infant, letting her dance on his toes when she was younger. It’s been a while since he heard it, and walking to the doorway into the kitchen, a wide grin stretches across his face. The deep, dull ache in his muscles lightens at the sight of you dancing with Sarah, singing all of the words to her and her singing along with what she knows.

“Said Sara, you're the poet in my heart…Never change, never stop…” your voice carries over the stereo, Sarah’s popping in on the last two lines. Joel stands to the side, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches the two of you twirl around the island. At one moment, you catch his eyes and beam brightly at him, waving him closer and reaching out a hand for him to join.

He does just that, scooping up Sarah with a grunt to hold her in his arms while you rest a hand on his shoulder and one on Sarah’s back. The three of you move and sing together, the butterfly in Joel’s chest rapidly pounding its wings and bouncing against his rib cage.

This is all that matters, this is what he envisions for his future. Small moments like this, altogether, his girls — and maybe another baby or two.

A simple life.

The next couple of weeks are packed with nights spent between all three of you, weaving your unit tighter together. Board game night with Sorry and Monopoly, and a sore loser Joel who insisted that the official rules be read aloud, even in the instance that his own daughter was the game winner — only just pushing him out of the top spot.

There was another evening spent at the arcade and bowling alley, a rainy day that washed beyond sunset. All of you ran from the truck into the building, shaking off the droplets before weaving your way through the games until the bag of quarters you and Sarah had gathered dwindled completely. A round of bowling was played, Joel being ‘generous’ (his words) to allow the bumpers to be put up for Sarah…and you.

The latest evening, Friday night, was spent alone with Joel while Sarah was at a sleepover. Your parents were out of town with friends for the weekend, and Chris was out with some college buddies who were visiting Austin, leaving the house free for you. Joel came over, crawling into bed with you after another long day at work, and the two of you languidly spent the evening shifting between random conversations, lying together quietly, running ghostly touches over each other until the tension snapped. Intermittently, the air between the two of you would heat up, leading gentle touches to be filled with more pressure and building up until the room was filled with breathy moans and begging.

Joel unravels you once with his hands, another with his mouth; the third time he reaches for you, soft and low pleadings to fill you up, you flip him around onto his back. Trailing kisses down his bare torso, you stop at his waistband and peel away the cotton of his boxers from his sweat-sheened skin. A long sigh deflates his chest when you take him into your mouth, his precum and your saliva mixing in slick as you work your head up and down at a steady pace. He’s propped against your headboard, pillows shifted behind him, and a mesmerized, open-mouthed, and heavy-breathed look on his face as he watches you. His voice hits your ears in your focus on his pleasure, the things he’s compelled to say flooding between your legs all over again.

“Fuck, Mari…”

“Tu puta boca perfecta…(Your perfect fucking mouth…)”

“Such a good girl, a perfect fucking girl. Bet you love this, don’t you, mi zorrita? Love sucking my cock and makin’ me feel so good.”

“Gonna come — oh fuck, sweet girl, gonna let me come down your throat? Let me see you swallow it all, Mari baby?”

Your name leaves his lips in a breathless moan, his come shooting in thick ropes and spilling onto your tongue as he finishes. Lifting your head off of him, you show off the pool of it on your tongue before swallowing it and giggling as he quickly pulls you up for a sloppy kiss.

At the stroke of midnight, the two of you are treading water in your pool, only illuminated by the bulb string lights running across the pool deck. The water is warm from the sunlight simmering over it all day, the perfect bath temperature surrounding your bare bodies as you mess around. Evading Joel’s arms, teasing him as you swim away before he corners you, a satisfied smirk on his face when he stalks up to you and towers over you, tilting your head back with a dripping wet hand. He leans down to kiss you deeply, stealing the air from your lungs with its delicate intensity.

The light bounces off the surface of the water, reflecting in his eyes as you hold his gaze and silence falls over the two of you for a handful of heartbeats.

He speaks in a hushed voice as if any louder would shatter the moment, “M’gonna marry you. Gonna give you whatever kind of life you want — a house, babies, I’d move across the world with you if you wanted. Middle of nowhere. Whatever you want, Mari.”

A smile grows on your face, droplets littering your face as you match his volume, “The only life I want is one with yours.”

It’s morning on a Saturday and you’re rushing around the kitchen, sloshing coffee in your half-full mug and waiting for your toast to pop out. You have only about twenty minutes until you had promised to meet Joel and Sarah at his truck in his driveway, the time counting pressuring you, especially considering you’re still wearing your pajamas and have a bad case of bedhead.

There’s a brief moment to breathe as you take your finished toast out of the toaster and stand in front of the island to butter it, reaching for the jam as your mom walks in from the living room. You glance up at her before continuing your task, passing her a greeting that she returns while refilling her coffee mug.

“Oh, sweetie, I’ve been meaning to ask you about something.” Your mom turns toward you, leaning back against the counter. Your stomach flips at the statement, nerves at the ready to start to hear something along the lines of ‘So you and Joel…’ But that doesn’t come; instead, your mom continues with a different line of questioning. “You know Sherri’s son that was about a year older than you all throughout school?”

“Um, yeah, I think so. Isn’t his name Ollie?”

“Well, he goes by Oliver now, according to his mother, but yeah that’s him.”

Another look is exchanged when you glance up at her, picking up a piece of your quick breakfast and taking a bite. You speak with a mouthful, “Okay, so what about Oliver?”

There’s a look that your mother has given you over the years of being her daughter. It’s a smile, but not any old smile that she gives out willy-nilly. No, this is a smile for specific situations. When she really wants you to hear her out, to do what she’s suggesting — if you can even call it that. Most of the times she’s used it on you, it’s left you no choice but to follow through on what she wanted.

The look on her face is exactly that right now.

Along with that persuasive face, she stands from her place at the counter, striding over to you and resting a hand on your shoulder while she looks you in the eyes.

“Well, sweetie, you have been home for nearly the entire summer and I haven’t seen you with anyone but your college friends a couple of times or Joel and Sarah. And I mean, they’re lovely people, but you probably shouldn’t be spending your entire free time with a nearly ten-year-old girl and her dad…”

Inside, you find yourself flipping straight to anger, ready to defend those two with your life, to defend your actions by telling your mother everything. How Joel isn’t only Sarah’s dad, how he’s the man you’re in love with and have been in love with for the last few years. How Sarah isn’t your ten-year-old next-door neighbor, how she isn’t only a little girl you nannied for a summer. She’s a light in your life, a wonderful addition that you’ve received on top of your love for Joel. Sarah’s become like — like a daughter to you.

All of these words die in your throat, fearing the outcome — disappointment, possibly resentment from Joel, and confusion and likely anger from your parents for keeping such a secret. Instead, you continue to listen to your mother’s request.

“I was talking to Sherri about you, and she said that Oliver moved back from Chicago to Austin this summer, about a month ago, and he’s been looking for some people his age to hang out with — is that what y’all young people call it now? Basically, she said he’s been looking for a girlfriend. I thought, knowing he’s a sweet boy, that maybe you would be interested in meeting up with him?”

“Uh—um, I don’t—” you ramble, feeling your cheeks heat up in the scramble for a legitimate excuse.

“I mean, you don’t have to say anything now. But I got his number from Sherri so I’ve got it if you want to reach out to him. She said she chatted to Ollie—I mean, Oliver, and he said he remembered you and would absolutely be interested in gettin’ reacquainted.”

That same smile paints your mom’s face, tilting you in the direction of simply agreeing to get her to stop. But then your mind flashes you an image of Joel, laying next to him a few nights ago in bed with his boyish grin, giddy like a schoolgirl when you casually said ‘I love you’ to him before going to sleep. That is what you’re thinking of when you address your mother again, a smile of your own on your face from imagining your man.

“I’ll think about it, Mom,” you say, a flat out lie to appease her. You finish up your breakfast and down the rest of your now lukewarm coffee, rushing around her to the basement door leading to your studio. The answer is enough to satiate your mother, her returning with her filled coffee mug to the living room and leaving you to finish your mad dash to get ready for the day.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry! I woke up late and then I was trying to eat breakfast quick and my mom came in and was trying to talk to me and I still had to get ready—” you ramble as you rush across your yard to Joel’s driveway where he is awaiting next to his truck with Sarah already seatbelted in the back row. Joel holds his hands up and laughs, interrupting your train of explanation.

“Woah, woah, slow down, Mariposa. You’re like a minute late, we’ll still make it on time.” He nods to the truck, leading you around to the passenger side and opening the door for you, lending a hand for you to get up. While Joel rounds the front of the car again, you turn around in your seat after belting yourself in, smiling at Sarah.

“Hey, sweet pea. Excited about your softball game?”

“Hi, Posey! I’m excited, but also I know that Daddy’s gonna get annoyed about something the umpire does or the other team, so I’m sure he’ll get yelled at again.” Your head snaps to Joel when he climbs in, guilt all over his face as he cringes. The engine rumbles to life as it turns over, and the three of you start the drive across town to the tournament fields. 

You shake your head and roll your eyes, turning back to Sarah. “Don’t worry about him today, I’ll keep him in line so y’all can have one game without him gettin’ too competitive for you all. You just have fun with your teammates and do your best.”

“Hey, I always want her to jus’ do her best. And I want the other team and the umps to do their best and not make poor calls or crappy plays.”

Sarah laughs at your playful back and forth, the two of you resigning the conversation to listen to the radio. Joel reaches across to take your hand in his, resting them both in your lap while the breeze from the open windows blows your hair around.

Before you know it, Joel is pulling into a parking spot at a park district site, the screams and laughter of children melding with the clink of metal bats and soft thuds of softballs landing in leather gloves. It pulls you back to your childhood, endless summer weekends spent across the state of Texas for your younger brother’s baseball tournaments.

Sarah whips off her seatbelt and scurries out of the car, running across the grass to meet her teammates at the dugout of their assigned field. Joel chuckles to himself and shakes his head, cutting the engine and turning to you.

“Ready to witness some riveting sportsmanship?”

“Well, from what Sarah said, I think I’ll have to keep an eye on you for your sportsmanship. Are you really one of those dads?” You lift an eyebrow, a smirk held back on your face.

“Maybe…”

With a shake of your head, you reach over and pat his thigh, warning him, “Be a good boy, and we’ll get some ice cream after. Deal?”

His thigh tenses under your touch, a quiet puff of a sigh leaving his parted lips. He shakes himself out of the daze, licking his lips and holding your eyes, “Do I get something else if I’m a good boy?”

“Maybe…” You throw his response back at him, peeling your hand from his leg with a satisfied smirk, and climb out of the truck to follow him toward the bleachers. Joel makes a detour to drop Sarah’s bag at the dugout, wishing her luck while you send her a wave from the seating area.

Climbing up a few rows, you shoot a friendly smile to the other parents there, all of them giving you a curious look. Settling on the bench, you rest your hands on either side of you, gripping the bleacher out of anxiety. The sun is beating down on you this afternoon, but it is nothing compared to the scorching stares you can feel from everyone around you, especially the mothers. A cool relief only comes when Joel makes his way over, stopping halfway up to you to chat with a couple that greet him cheerfully. You watch the umpires prepare the field, popping the rubber bases into place. The next moment, you hear your name called, following the sound to see Joel waving you over with a grin.

Carefully climbing down, Joel reaches out a hand when you’re close, helping you down to stand on the aluminum beam in front of him.

Introducing you to the couple seated in front of you, you share a smile with them while Joel’s hand rests on your waist, “This is Adam and Maria, they’re the parents of Sarah’s friend, Katie. Adam and Maria, this is my partner…”

You tune out the rest of the quick introduction when Joel uses your name, feeling a flip of your stomach when he drops the title so nonchalantly. You haven’t heard him say anything but ‘girlfriend’ in a lighthearted manner to Sarah or Tommy, and this feels way different. The word is definite, solid, and much more committed than the flippant terminology.

Getting out of your distraction, you make light small talk with Adam and Maria before Joel excuses the two of you as the game is about to start. He follows you up to the same spot you were holding before, sitting down next to you and tuning into the game immediately. Nothing more is said about how he introduced you, the tiny, one-word difference saying much more to you than any explanation could.

As Sarah’s team takes the field, Joel raises his hands and claps loudly, calling out encouragement, “Let’s go, Comets! Y’all got this!”

Sarah’s positioned at third base, with an ideal view of her from where you’re at on the bleachers. The game’s start is delayed from a change in the other team’s lineup being sorted, the pause in the fanfare causing Joel to turn to you and wrap his arm around your lower back. Wordlessly, he leans in for a chaste kiss, smiling sweetly when he pulls away and pushes his sunglasses back down on his nose.

“Didn’t get to give you a kiss when I first saw you.”

Instead of responding, you lean into his side when the umps break from the circle with the two head coaches and both of your focuses turn to the field with the first batter up.

It’s a fairly standard game until the top of the fifth inning. The field umpire called a batter safe at third after Sarah tagged her first, Joel standing up immediately and gesturing wildly as he yelled toward the field.

“What are you blind, ump? She clearly landed the tag before number twelve’s foot was on the bag. I could see it clear as day from here and I’m way older than you are, kid!”

The umpire crosses his arms, giving Joel a warning look as he strides over. Sarah stands at her base, shifting her weight back and forth uncomfortably as the girl running the bases gives her a glare. You can tell Sarah’s turning into herself, the unwanted attention making her second-guess in the moment. Every young girl has been there before, and it makes your stomach turn knowing the feeling she’s having.

“Sir, I’d appreciate it if you keep your thoughts to yourself and take them up with the head coach at the end of the game. We’re all trying to play a fun and fair game, and I’m calling everything how I see it.” The umpire stands at the fence in front of the bleachers, projecting his voice up to Joel. He can’t be any older than nineteen years old, likely a college kid with a summer job. And definitely not one that pays enough to fight with a man like Joel.

“Calling ‘em how you ‘em? You really must not have great eyesight then, son, ‘cause that was a horrible call. I’ve got reading glasses in my car, d’you think you need ‘em?” The last line gets a few laughs from surrounding parents, and one glance over to Sarah again and you see her talking to her coach, shoulders slumped and arms limp. Her face tells you she’s asking for something, a gesture toward her father standing on the bleachers.

“Sir, if you keep this up, I’m going to have to eject you from the field area.”

Reaching up next to you, you wrap your fingers around Joel’s wrist and tug harshly enough to draw his attention. One look into his eyes with a subtle glare — invisible to most bystanders but communicating everything it needs to in the moment to Joel. He resigns with a sigh, waving his hand up in understanding as he takes his seat again.

Speaking only loud enough for him to hear, you give him a playful pinch and roll your eyes, “We’re leavin’ if you pull shit like that again, ‘cause you’re mortifying your daughter and it’s not a good look to be kicked out of your kid’s little league softball game, J.”

He rolls his eyes in return, the reprimand getting him riled up again, “But that was such a bullshit call, Mari. I couldn’t let the ump—“

“You can and you will. Sarah’s here to have fun, and you’re here to watch her have fun. If she gets serious about wanting to play softball and wants to join a league outside of the park district, have at it arguing with umpires and coaches. Cause you’ll be surrounded with other parents doin’ the same shit.”

“And how d’you know that?”

“I was a witness to the dramas of travel baseball for, like, seven years of my life. Dragged to tournaments for Chris every weekend over the summer. And saw plenty of dads like you.”

Joel laughs and shakes his head, leaning closer to speak low in your ear, “Sweetheart, I don’t think there’s a dad out there who’s like me…At least I hope there isn’t, ‘cause then what’s my appeal to you?”

You snort out a quiet laugh, shoving him away lightly before jesting, “Convenience. Barely had to walk fifty feet to find a hot dad. Didn’t need to prowl the baseball games anymore.”

“Convenience? Is that all it was?” He fakes shock and disappointment, a slow shake of his head until he breaks out into a cheeky grin, “Should’ve moved sooner.”

“Well, not that much earlier, manther.”

“Manther? Enlighten me, Mari.” Joel gives you a curious stare while his arm makes its way around your back again, resting at your lower side next to your ass.

“The male equivalent of a cougar. You’re a manther.” Beaming up at him, you laugh as he pinches your side, acting offended all the while he presses a kiss to the side of your head.

“Only for you, Mari baby, only for you.”

The Comets, Sarah’s team, won the game 6-4. To celebrate, the team agreed to meet at the Tastee-Freez nearby to hang out and get some ice cream. The drive there was filled with Sarah and Joel recapping her plays, and a strong scold from the younger Miller about the older’s argument. You kept to yourself, smiling along with the jokes shot between them, sitting back to admire the two of them.

You never could have expected this kind of life with them when you saw their small family moving in from your front living room window. 

Joel reaches over, takes your hand, and links your fingers together with a soft squeeze. When you turn to him, attention focusing away the road in front of you while the truck rolls to a stop at the red light, Joel meets your eyes with a tender look. His mouth lifts at the corners, pursing his lips as he brings your hands up to kiss the back of yours. The small gesture and the glint in his eyes fill your chest with a warm rush of syrupy ooze, enough heat to spread to the rest of your body and between your ribs, and leave you with tingling nerves.

The parking lot is packed when you arrive, Joel opting to park along the side of the road in the mix of grass and gravel. Hopping out of the car, Joel is quick to get around and take your hand again, pressing his lips to the top of your head as the pair of you walk behind Sarah up to the snaking line filled with her teammates and their families.

“Remember our first date here?” Joel inquires, tilting his head with a growing smile.

Chuckling, you nod and reciprocate his smile, “How could I forget? You got a butterscotch-dipped cone, weirdo.”

“Hey, if I remember correctly, you’re the one who polished off my cone and I took yours. So quit knockin’ the butterscotch dip, Mari,” Joel’s voice is dripping with nostalgia, the date you two had two years ago feeling like a lifetime ago. While the line moves forward, you lean back against his chest, and his hands find your sides, skating up and down along the fabric of your sundress. In front of you, you reach out and rest your hands on Sarah’s shoulders, smiling when she leans back into your touch. Her tiny frame sways drowsily in your arms, one of your hands reaching up to play with her curls gently.

“Feelin’ tired, Sare Bear?” Your chin tucks into your neck to look down at her and she looks up, nodding slowly and stretching her arms in front of her. Reaching your arms around her shoulders, you hold her comfortably against her chest, the three of you in a tight-knit row in line. “Well, you’ll get a sugar high from the ice cream and then you can crash at home after you hang with your friends. You just give us the word and we’ll head home, yeah?”

Joel orders for the three of you at the front of the line, refusing your offer to pay and shooing you off to find a spot to sit. Sarah eyes a table of her friends and you nudge her side, nodding and telling her to go sit with them, “I’ll survive with your dad myself, I promise.”

Sarah giggles and jogs off, leaving you to find a spot at a small table for you and Joel. He drops off Sarah’s sundae to her before he makes his way over to you, handing off your chocolate-dipped twist while he keeps his butterscotch cone. It’s always easy conversation for the two of you, discussing plans for the next morning about when to leave to take Sarah to the aquarium and what to do for dinner when you’re home.

Things are simple. Reminiscing on old memories while making new ones, watching Sarah laugh and smile with her friends.

“So, what are you gonna do when she’s a teenager?” You inquire, taking your attention away from Sarah’s posse and focusing back on Joel.

“What am I gonna do? I think you mean what are we gonna do? I’m gonna need all the help I can get, and well, you’re the one who’s been a teenage girl before.” He gestures to your cone with his, and you reach it out to switch with him. Continuing to snack on his vanilla and butterscotch, the two of you talk about what you were like as a teenager and what you think Sarah will be like.

Before you know it, your cones are completely gone and you’re left with a pile of sticky paper napkins. Sarah walks over, plopping down next to Joel on the bench of the picnic table. The three of you chat for a bit longer before heading back to the car, en route to home for the evening.

Sarah’s tucked upstairs in bed, Joel’s sock-covered feet bouncing down the stairs that you hear from your place in the kitchen, finishing up your wipe-down from cleaning up dinner. Joel plops down on the couch as you walk back into the living room, greeting you with a sleepy smile and an arm-lifted to invite you in.

Happily, you cuddle into his side, giggling quietly as he pepper kisses across your profile while you flick on the TV. Mindlessly channel searching, you’re reminded of the conversation with your mother from this morning, and remember how you wanted to tell Joel all about it.

Sitting up and turning to him, you laugh quietly as you start to recollect, “Guess what I forgot to tell you this morning?”

“Hm, what, baby?” Joel answers, trailing his fingers along the bare skin exposed from your camisole.

“My mom came into the kitchen as I was makin’ breakfast and she told me about this kid, well, I guess he’s not a kid anymore, but anyways, this kid from high school that was a year older than me and is my mom’s friend’s son. And she was saying how good he’s doing, how he just moved back here from Chicago and is looking for people to hang out with, and then she gave me this look — oh my god, if you could see this look she does, it’s like she’ll completely shatter if you don’t do what she’s asking of you — and she tells me that she got his number. For me,” you guffaw, shaking your head before continuing, “And I mean, that look, I just couldn’t say no and so I told her I would think about it—”

“You would think about it?” Joel interrupts, sitting up straighter and brow knitting together as his voice grows half a decibel louder.

You squirm in your seat, cringing at the harshness in his voice and inching away to look him in the eyes, “Um, yeah. I mean I couldn’t just come right out and say ‘no’, she would ask me a million questions why.”

“Okay? And?” Joel removes his arm from around your shoulder and tilts his head in disbelief, exhaling out a laugh as he shakes his head.

“And what, Joel? Was I just supposed to tell my mother about us?”

“Well, no, but you could have said somethin’, Mari. That’s not very fair to me—”

“What would you have wanted me to say? You aren’t ready, Joel, or at least that’s what you said, and I have been more than willing to wait but I know my mom and I know she would have picked up on something if I said no.”

“What am I supposed to think when you’re telling me this, too? Like it’s some joke, ‘Ha ha. Isn’t so great and funny my mom tried to set me up with some other guy?’ That’s not funny to me.”

“Oh my god, are you serious right now? It’s not like we’re a joke to me, I just thought it would have been a little bit of a chuckle for us. I don’t want anyone else, Joel, and I thought you would have known that by now. If anything, I should be the one feeling some type of way about having to lie to my mom about my relationship status cause you don’t want to tell them yet.”

“I’m sorry I don’t have the capacity to deal with your parents right now, I’ve got my own business to run and my daughter to take care of and you've got your own shit—”

“Don’t. Don’t even start with that, Joel. You’ve had the same business and daughter for the last two years and you’re still not ready when I’ve fully committed myself to you and been as vulnerable as I possibly can with you. I am trying really fucking hard to get better for you, going to therapy and possibly starting medication. I don’t know what else would make you feel ready. Us being married? We kind of need to tell them before that point. And also, you seem more than ready to tell everyone else in the world. Your daughter knows, your brother knows, random parents at Sarah’s softball game know. Why can’t I share you with the people in my life?”

Joel groans and leans his head back, reaching his hands up to press the heels of his palms against his eyes. You can’t help but roll your eyes, standing up and crossing your arms over your chest as you look down at him on the couch. After a moment of silence, he drops his hands and opens his eyes, looking up at you with a dead stare.

“I can’t do this anymore. Not right now.”

“And when are we supposed to do it?”

“I don’t know, Mari! I. Don’t. Know. But I do know that I can’t do it right now, and I don’t want to do all this right now.”

“Oh, so everything in our relationship is operating on the basis of ‘when you’re ready’.”

“Quit bein’ ugly, this isn’t like us.”

“It doesn’t feel like it right now. I don’t know what else you need to be ready to be fully a part of my life, Joel. We're always going to have shit going on, life is never going to get to a perfect place.”

“Mariposa, I love you, but I don’t want to do this right now. I’m going to bed.” Joel shakes his head to himself again, pushing up from the couch and rounding the coffee table. He brushes against you, hand bracing on your side while he gets past you and heads up the stairs, leaving you in the dark.

Only the glow of the television illuminates the room, tightness in your chest as you glance around the otherwise empty room. Tears fill your eyes, a trembling hand reaching for the remote to turn off the screen and the sound, punishing yourself in the lonely silence for a few minutes before tiptoeing up the stairs. At his open doorway, you tentatively linger within the threshold, Joel’s form slumped on his side but adjusting its position and breathing unsteady — still awake.

Without a sound, he sees you standing there before he lifts the covers, a normally welcoming invitation with a smile and a ‘C’mere, Mari baby.’ Instead, you walk on eggshells to the bed, slipping under the covers before he drops them on top of you, his arm tucking against his side. When you open your mouth to speak, he rolls over, back facing you. As you fall asleep, you study his broad shoulders and the curls at the nape of his neck, itching to reach out and touch him, show him your care, tell him about your love. Apologize for everything, promise to continue the seemingly endless wait until he’s ready. But you tell yourself you have to stand your ground on this and just discuss everything later like he wants.

Later. Always later.

taglist:

@beskarandblasters @undrthelights @swiftispunk @joelsversion @asirenbyanyothername @ellenmunn @ja-ehyun @sw33tp1xie @marisemonteiroo @brunetteeras @bongsrconfusing @addictedtotlou @angie2274 @pedrostories @pedroholic @theelishad @johnwatsn @elissaaa @felicityofbakerstreet @atinylittlepain @northernbluess @cannolighost @casa-boiardi @wannab-urs @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @fishingforpike @msjarvis @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sugadolly @yazsos @peppesgirl @pastawench @brittmb115 @anoverwhelmingdin @spishsstuff @wolfbook87 @mswarriorbabe80 @harriedandharassed @decemberdolly @laiisleitte @fierce-bab @vickie5446 @tbniarq @vee-bees-blog @thereaperisabitch @spidermanfrog @belliezz @joelsflannel @cartoon-garbage04 @bianqueee04 @nostalxgic @xyzstar @cumberpegg

[enmusthighs]

Cybertronian Liminal spaces ideas: TFP

Tunnels (thru Mts, under cities, etc.)

Red Sand Deserts (Rust Sea Similarities)

Large Scale Industrial Sectors (Think big, automated assembly lines; Similar to their factories)

I also feel like truly gigantic cities (Lots of skyscrapers; similar to their cityscapes) would be similar enough to evoke a sense of nostalgia.

Cybertronian Specific Places:

OP - Libraries (the bigger the more nostalgic he gets) and Rome, b/c of the Collusium (I imagine it reminds him of Kaons Arena)

Megs - Rome (Same as OP), Empty Mines, and ruined Forts (even tho their forts 100% looked different, our ruins still give the same effect)

Ratch - Colleges (Academy Days, specifically the long, winding trails from one building to another), Hospital Corridors (If he has a holoform) and Oddly enough, Victorian Houses. Old and creaky, reminiscent of an old era.

Star - The Buj Kalifa (Vosian Remenicent). Sometimes Specific weather patterns, like Hailstorms or Freezing Rain, remind him of the stinging Acid rain of Cybertron. He hates Blizzards too.

Bulk - Construction sites get him. Rome as well (architecture in general, really).

Sounders - Rome, Government Buildings (specifically, the twisting hallways some important buildings have) and castles/forts.

Arcee - Tunnels, Ravines (I imagine she hid a lot on cybertron, cracks in cybs exoplates would be similar to ravines), and old houses (dilapidated buildings, slowly rotting away; similar to one specific spider incident.

KO - Raceways (obv), but also airports (hanger bays specifically) and large scale paint factories. Also, Buj Kalifa (HC that KO is a Grounded Seeker, explaining SS comment in TFP). Maybe medical tents as well? He was a front line medic after all.

Bee - Rocky mountain roads (scouting), ruins like Stonehenge, and ghost towns. Places where life has been destroyed. Also, war ravaged cities and mysterious old paths through the trees.

BD - Similar to Bulk, but add Mines and industrial buildings too.

Smokey - Libraries (not to the same extent as OP tho), old ruins, and abandoned junkyards (similar effect to the transport ship) I also HC that the escape pod made him pretty Claustrophobic. So small spaces are a no go.

Shockers - Labs, research buildings, but also government buildings (Senator days) and hospitals (too pristine/white a room; he slightly panics) HC that Shockers hates the color white with a dying passion.

Jackie - Labs as well, but also hanger bays and random bars get him too. (HC that he basically found Seaspray in a galactic bar.)

Dread/Quake - Old English/French architecture and Rome

Mags - Government buildings, Libraries (somewhat), but mainly offices and conference rooms get this guy.

Arachnid - Dug out Tunnels (insecticon hives), fancy buildings (Senete esch enough; similar to all her targets homes), and out-of-the-way villages (similar to other organic planets easiest targets)

I think that basically everyone (everyone important I think? Cliffs dead so I didn't include him lol).

HOOOOLY FUCK man you put a LOT of thought into this, this is so cool. The bit about lifeless or decayed places igniting that kinda nostalgia in Bee is actually really sad if you think about it.

Man now I wanna see an episode where a relic is found near the remains of the colosseum, and it has a lot of bots on edge.

I feel like the cities with big reflective or iridescent skyscrapers are spot on, especially in the flashbacks. To add to city scenes, in the flashbacks they had huge streets and ramps and freeways that looked a lot like ours too! (Unless I’m remembering wrong and I’m just nuts)

[girlactionfigure]

*ISRAEL REALTIME* - Connecting the World to Israel in Realtime

(( Note Israel Realtime does not post updates on Shabbat (Israel time) unless life threatening / saving. ))

SHABBAT ✡️✡️ SAFETY INSTRUCTIONS✡️✡️ for those in ISRAEL 

Chief Rabbinute instructions with Risk adjustments

🔅Erev Shabbat Parshat Ki Tisa - Exodus 30:11-34:35, discussing contributing a half shekel to the temple, temple construction, and keeping Shabbat.

Shabbat Times here -> https://www.myzmanim.com/search.aspx

🔸NORTH - Risk MEDIUM and GROWING, could grow serious very suddenly, particularly in Safed, Meron, Acre, Nahariya, Teveria, Afula and HAIFA area.  Safety precautions necessary, shelter options needed at synagogue, school, work and home. Know your shelter options where ever you are, such as shopping.

🔸SOUTH - Unchanged, rockets from GAZA mostly eliminated, BUT occasional rocket attacks, more often on Shabbat. Risk is low except for Ashkelon, Sderot and near-Gaza towns - take precautions, know your shelter, where, time to get there, capacity - everywhere.

🔸EILAT and NEGEV - Risk low, but occasional attacks from Yemen. Keep an eye open on shelter options.

➡️ MAMAD LIGHTS ON… leave the lights on so if there is an alert you don’t have to turn them on, on Shabbat.

➡️ TAKE A PHONE WITH YOU… when sheltering or leave one on in the shelter.  If you must call for help, have a way to do so quickly.

➡️ LEAVE ON AN ALERT METHOD… Leave on silent channel or stream on computer or phone, or alert app.

➡️ SAFE TO GO TO SYNAGOGUE? - Follow instructions of Homefront Command and your City!

— HIGH Risk - only go to a synagogue that has, or preferably is in, a shelter.  Otherwise pray at home.

— MEDIUM Risk - best to only go to a synagogue that has or is very near a shelter. Where is it?  Have a ‘when there is a siren’ plan in mind.

— LOW Risk - there will possibly be sirens, what’s your plan?  Have one or choose another synagogue.

➡️ PLAN YOUR SHELTER PATH TO/FROM SYNAGOGUE - If an alert goes off en route, where will you go to be protected?

➡️ IN SYNAGOGUE, WHERE IS THE SHELTER?  Does it have capacity? - If an alert goes off in synagogue, KNOW where you will go.  Walk over and check the path and capacity.

➡️ ARE YOU SLOW?  - In High Risk areas, stay home.  Medium and Low risk, have a plan if there is a siren.

➡️ CHILDREN?  Discuss with your children what to do in case there is a siren.  Leave young children at home in High risk areas.

➡️ CARRY YOUR WEAPON.

— If you have a gun license, it is a MITZVAH to carry your gun on Shabbat, even without an eruv. 

— Try to have AT LEAST one armed person in every synagogue.

— Have Pepper spray? Or a Knife (small size, approx. width of palm, as allowed by law)? Carry it - we all remain at risk of terror attacks. (Note pepper spray, knives etc will not be allowed to enter govt offices, hospitals, malls or any security controlled site, and your workplace may require you to register.)

➡️ IF SIRENS, SHELTER EVEN IF IN AMIDAH

— If sirens are heard in the middle of the Amidah, one must go to the shelter.  After, restart Amidah from the beginning (others rule to start from where you stopped). 

— Can’t get to shelter, LAY DOWN, all the way, hands on head (reduces risk by 80%).

— As per Homefront Command, wait AT LEAST 5 minutes (Homefront says 10) before exiting shelter or getting up.

➡️ HAVE A PHONE AVAILABLE

— Every synagogue needs a PHONE ON for immediate use on Shabbat.  And with a red alert app in case it is hard to hear sirens.

— You may carry and keep a cell phone on in your pocket.  Set to silent, and set red alert apps to “override silent mode”.

➡️ DO NOT HESITATE TO CALL POLICE !! - If anything suspicious, CALL POLICE immediately!  Dial 100

➡️ ALL INSTRUCTIONS FROM HOME FRONT COMMAND and your City must be strictly obeyed.  If instructed to shut yourself in, do not leave the house even for prayer.

It is a mitzvah to take actions to protect and save and preserve life on Shabbat, not a violation.  But ONLY actions which do so.

[bioethicists]

Your post about how the clinical process surrounding mental illness and addiction was really interesting!

I wonder what your thoughts are about Housing First models and Common Grounds models? Because I feel like they speak directly to your points and provide the needs but also a structure that can be relied on if one wishes to change oneself.

my job as a research assistant is actually doing an evaluation of the benefits of a massive housing first project in boston! i am a fan of housing first particularly because i think everyone should be housed + the possibilities for life shrink dramatically the second somebody is unhoused, regardless of their substance use status. unhoused ppl are treated as less than human (sometimes less than animal tbh) in many spaces. i also have a personal investment because my brother overdosed in part because of the fact that he had been kicked out of his living situation for using + was forced to use with a depressed tolerance in a remote location. if he had been in a housing situation which was not contingent on sobriety, where others may have been present to narcan him or he would not have had the immense stress + trigger of dogshit menial labor jobs needed to pay the ridiculous, price gouging rents at sober living- i mean, i can't speculate, but it's something i do think about.

i think my hesitation with how it can be implemented is, again, the assumption that the end goal for everyone is recovery. my position is not "well some people can't recover" or "well some people can't recover until xyz is met" but "nobody is obligated to recover, ever, and recovery is a subjective concept which can be put to extremely reactionary uses. i want to reduce people's suffering and increase their possibilities for life."

i do think, based on my work, that it's really important for people who are using substances to have access to resources which facilitate their safety and happiness + a lot of them would probably choose either sobriety, MAT, or safer drug use habits if that was something which was easy for them to do. they often express genuinely felt desires to "get better" (in whatever way that means to them or whatever way they hope it means to me) but similar, competing desires to continue experiencing the benefits of their drug use, as well as avoiding the negatives of sobriety. while i chafe at the idea that all people's "true selves" want to recover (in the specific way that recovery is constructed by substance use treatment providers), i do think that most people want to suffer less. things like methadone/suboxone (or safe, legal, surveillance free supply!!!), medications provided on site, easily accessible, non judgemental medical treatment, etc can save lives.

it's important for ppl to be very skeptical of who is allocating/managing the resources for these interventions + their motivations. to be frank, i get scared about the future of the (admittedly imperfect) housing projects i work with because they are funded by the state of MA with the primary goal being to get ppl off the street, because housed members of the community were complaining about the encampments. the state very clearly wants to see that these projects 1) reduce the prevalence of visible homelessness and 2) reduce the rate of drug use among participants. my job is very explicitly to collect and produce data that indicates this + the questions i ask when i collect data are quite explicitly centered around figuring out if being housed makes ppl use less drugs. the point here is that the state absolutely can + will revoke the massive amounts of money it has allocated towards these programs if they don't see them as making people Stop Doing Drugs or Stop Wandering the Streets. this is why i think harm reduction responses should be grassroots responses originating within + for communities, as described in some of the chapters of Saving Our Own Lives. unfortunately, these communities rarely have the infrastructure or the resources to implement these projects, so they must rely on the state + all of its messy biopolitical motives

[ovaruling]

You made a post earlier about how you are feeding stray cats. Since it seems like you're very concerned about the environment I wonder why you are doing this. Aren't stray/outdoor cats horrible for the environment? Mostly because they kill animals that are actually important for nature like birds and rodents. Not trying to be rude just wondering why you think feeding them is a good idea, because it's basically helping a population that has no place in nature and does nothing but harm.

look, i’m not without my weaknesses—i can’t look at a starving stray cat and not feed it. maybe others can, but i can’t. i never claimed to be a paragon.

however, i must clarify something and also point out that i think im doing my part more than your average stray-feeder—i spend 1-2 hours each day trying to trap the cats. every day, from 4-5pm and sometimes later. i drop what im doing to spend time on it.

i have a folding chair to sit on and stake them out, a new implement of a bathroom mirror from a construction site that i set up next to the feeding station (to see the cats without startling them), and a large dog crate in which i put the food.

i recently caught 2 of the said stray cats last week and had them fixed and they will no longer be contributing to the environmental decline, nor will they ever produce litters. i’m working on a third.

i feed on my own property and i have caught and fixed and thus removed from the environment approximately 20 or more cats since i was like, i can’t remember—10, 11, 12. somewhere around there—i was in some degree of childhood when i started. i still use the same large dog crates i had back then to catch them. it takes weeks, sometimes months. sometimes a year or more in the case of my toughest one, an aggressive feral male who was causing issues in the neighborhood and who is now my housecat and best friend and wreaks no more havoc. i didn’t give up on him and it ended up being for the better bc no one else was going to give enough of a shit to spend the time it was going to take to catch him. (i’ve said this before but, i had to go on 3 rounds of antibiotics bc he kept biting me horribly every time i tried to catch him)

all this to say: my success in catching stray cats is owed largely to my patience and my willingness to spend hours gaining their trust by feeding them and having them associate my presence with food and fresh water.

so i know it’s not without criticism to feed them, but i do put in hours and hours each week feeding these strays specifically to try to catch them—and i often succeed. (edit: i don’t always. there are a few cats i don’t know if i’ll ever be able to catch, but i won’t stop trying.)

this is what ive been doing my whole life and i will continue to try to make an impact on my local environment in this unique way. i don’t expect others to understand my methods and the specific way that i do things (it’s different for each cat depending on how i assess their personality and needs and habits etc etc), but the fact that i’ve removed 20 or more strays from my neighborhood over the last decade or so is an impact that matters, i think.

especially since i pay out of my own pocket to take them to the vet, to fix them, vaccinate them, and treat them for any and all ailments, and i also have housed them myself or rehomed them. it’s a huge drain on my resources but it’s one i am happy to do for the rest of my life. not least bc no one else in my area is bothering to do anything about them.

so—take that for what you will. that’s my contribution and it’s not perfect but i think i do a good job at reducing the number of stray cats in my local ecosystem and i have to conclude that because of that i MUST have reduced a lot of the environmental destruction that they would’ve otherwise done. much better than anyone else who lives around here, that’s for sure.

tl;dr—i am basically doing the job my local animal care & control is supposed to be doing about stray cats, for free, by myself, at my own expense and on my own time—and i 100% cannot do that job without feeding them

edit: i didn’t mean for this to sound as defensive and doth protesting as it did—i realize i’ve never quite explained exactly What it is i do with regard to stray and feral cats, and of course i can’t expect others to read my mind or know my life and motivations just from scattered posts i make lol. i hope i answered your question somewhat, and im happy to answer any more that you have.

[thepromptswhisperer]

Bad Morning Prompts

1. A spills coffee/tea/etc. over their/B’s office outfit.

2. Excitement turns into disappointment/etc. when A realizes that B forgot what day it is (e.g. their birthday, their anniversary).

3. The morning air is cold, and the heating doesn’t work.

4. The big argument/breakup they had last night is the first thing on A’s mind when they wake up.

5. There is no coffee/tea/food in the apartment/house/etc.

6. A attempts to make B’s morning/day better when they notice that they had a bad morning.

7. A wakes up on the ground (e.g. having fallen out of the bed, and now their back hurts).

8. A oversleeps.

9. A is looking forward to spending their day off with B. They, however, wake up to a note/text/etc. from B saying that something unexpectedly came up.

10. Seeing that A’s in a bad mood, B’s worsens too.

11. Nothing is going according to the plan.

12. A wakes up feeling sick.

13. Rain patters against the window when A wakes up. They hate rain/It completely ruins their plans for the day.

14. Not having been able to sleep much last night, A walks around like a zombie.

15. A wakes up to a phone call informing them that B was in an accident/etc.

16. A has almost made it to their workplace when they fall and hurt themselves/their clothes rip.

17. A is the only person/etc. B wants to talk to after that mess of a morning.

18. A bad dream lingers on A’s mind.

19. A wakes up with a hangover (and not all too delighted when their boss unexpectedly calls them in for work).

20. The apartment building/house/etc. A is living has no (hot) water this morning.

21. Every day, A wakes up to a text/call from B. This morning however, their phone stays silent.

22. A is late for an important meeting/etc. because they missed their bus/their car doesn’t work/etc.

23. A locked themselves out of their home/car.

24. A burns their breakfast/A’s coffee spills over, making a mess of their kitchen.

25. A wakes up in a hospital bed/jail/etc.

26. Early in the morning, A got ready for the plans they have with B for that day. Only… they don’t show up.

27. A doesn’t know why they are in a bad mood that morning. They just are.

28. The last thing A needed/was prepared for that morning, is the gossip spreading about them.

29. A tries to pretend that they had a good morning. They, however, can’t fool B.

30. A wakes up to the sound of someone insistently ringing their doorbell/coming from the construction site nearby/etc.

31. A tries to stay optimistic despite their morning going from bad to worse.

32. A forgot to kiss B goodbye that morning.

[tomatoland]

Only Friends as a morality drama, groupthink & media literacy

I can't find the clip now, but Off was on GMMTV Live House and asked if people were watching Only Friends. And he then made a comment saying it's like a morality drama. And I really like that he said that because yes, Only Friends is making us think about what we would do in these situations, but also try to understand why do these characters or people in general behave the way they do.

I don't get the moral comparisons between the characters. Because if your barometer for a person is just that they are just better than another person, your bar is LOW? Or this couple is better than the other? Because in real life, is your barometer for a relationship just that it's better than someone else's relationship? Does your own romantic partner need to be the one who is deemed the most popular choice? Or do your own life decisions have to be what others would do in your situation?

Different choices for different people 👏 And who has a right to judge you for your life decisions? They don't know why or how you came to that decision.

I used to be really black and white about cheating in real life, but now I don't know, real life is FAR more complicated and grey. And we actually still don't know if Mew considered it cheating. He's still never outright says it. He always says "what you did to me," so it's debatable.

But accountability is a big theme in the show. There might be a reason why you behave the way you do, but it does not excuse your actions, you still have to take responsibility for it. Literally all the characters have to pay the piper/take accountability for what they do... except a certain someone who shall not be named.

In fandom as well as life, it is extremely easy to surround yourself with only opinions that validate your own. I am actually really against this kind of surreal groupthink/hive mentality thing happening in this fandom.

And I just want anyone coming across this post to know it's okay to not share the same opinion. Do not think that just because an opinion is popular that it's right.

I always for representing the minority opinion. Representation ALWAYS. I think society as a whole is better when different people share their different POVs. If the opinions on this site about OF were more fair and not so quick to romanticize some characters or villainize others, I probably would have not started posting opinions and just come on Tumblr to reblog some gifsets to be honest.

I've seen people say "someone told me this or that about these actors" or "from what I've seen about what people said about Mew on reddit, he is a master manipulator" and "the people I follow said" some even in tags on my own posts and I'm like "you realize what you just said/admitted to, right??"

Somebody TOLD you what to think and that's why you think that way. I will be honest, I would be embarrassed to say that out loud. And it's okay if you didn't realize you were doing it. (I didn't always myself. I've just had a lot of trips around the sun to figure out that groupthink should always be challenged.)

But if you recognize yourself doing this, start to ask "who is presenting this information? What is their bias? What is their motive? Are you being told what to think? Be really wary of people who make big statements without support.

I am upfront about my bias, you will see it right away from my blog, but I am more interested in the art because to romanticize some characters or villainize others just because you have a CP preference is just a NO for me.

Everyone gets judged fairly by the same measuring stick 👏

Only Friends is art created by MANY. Not just what the characters say and the acting on the screen. The world was constructed by Jojo and Ninew, Den, Best, filming, lighting, costuming, set design, etc.

Who is this character? How have they been characterized? What do they know? What don't they know? What could be motivating them to behave this way?

What is creator's intent? This is Thai media made for a Thai audience. While we have access to OF because it's on Youtube, we are not the original intended audience.

What Western or International perspective could we have that affects why we view things differently than the characters do or the Thai audience would? This is such a silly example, but I was and am still kind of triggered by it. In the episode 5 scene of TopMew at dinner, Mew got flack for how he eats. And I just want you to know that dining etiquette is not standardized around the world. When my dad first immigrated, his coworkers also gave him flack about this and he still fucking remembers the story 30 years later, so yeah actually I still feel strongly about this. Anyway, the Thai reactors only thought that Mew looked classy/expensive because he knows how to swirl a wine glass.

Is the reason you think this because the show is telling you to think that by how they film the scenes, music, etc? I always said that TopMew's lack of romantic suspense in the early episodes didn't make sense because all these characters exist in the same universe. They are written, filmed, and directed by the same people. And a lingering close-up on hands with accompanying romantic music is NOT acting, that's filming and art direction.

What personal perspectives or worldviews do we bring to our approach to media, etc, etc? The list goes on.

I actually didn't know what this is called until now but I've seen people mention media literacy and looked it up just now. Turns out this is what it is 🤷🏻‍♀️

Is there a take-away? Err, don't be a sheep. Decide for yourself what you think. And don't discredit art created by a whole ton of people just because you only care about certain actors.

[bigskydreaming]

Bit of a vent post, bit of a housekeeping post, bit of a 'so that's what's been happening in Kalen-land' post:

So I have officially done everything that can be done to prepare for our relocation to a different site while they do construction on this one for the next year, which should be....any day now. Since it was originally supposed to happen on October 2nd, lol. Oh, bureaucracy.

If I wrote a memoir of the last two years specifically, 'Oh, Bureaucracy' would be the title, actually. So obviously its no secret that Moukie & I have been struggling for a long time, even after my surgery back in December 2021. But pretty much all of that has to do with our struggles to hack through bureaucracy to secure some actual stability and longterm living situation, since....oh, January 2022. We've finally secured a five year lease to stay in this place (with the exception of the next year, at a different site during construction, as I mentioned), but like....we only JUST got that agreement officially in writing, signed & notarized & all that...last week.

After being told it was basically a done deal but they couldn't finalize anything or put anything in writing until the building sold and the property changed hands and one city service took over oversight of this particular property from another one....pretty much every month since November of last year. They changed dates and timelines on us so many times it was like every three week we'd have a completely new timeline we were looking at for when we could expect to have everything finalized or for the relocation to happen, etc. Most recently, we were told with complete certainty that everyone HAD to be out October 2nd, that construction would be starting immediately after that, nobody would be allowed to stay in the building.

October 31st, and we're still here, lol.

So that's been a fun non-stop rollercoaster ride of stress, lol. The problem, of course, is that before my surgery (12/2021), I'd quite literally been homeless for at least the five years prior to that. Fortunately I never quite made it to the point of having to sleep outside, though there were plenty of times it got close, and spent most of that time living out of cheap motels & extended stay housing while working towards getting enough money together for my surgery, but as far as any landlord or potential renter is concerned, I was for all intents & purposes homeless during that time, and that's....not great when trying to secure housing in the middle of a pandemic right after basically starting your life over from scratch after the surgery to fix the problem that basically derailed your entire life, lol. Not to mention my credit score was practically nonexistent, all my credit cards were maxed out to pay for the surgery & insurance, my driver's license had been expired for years due to not being even able to drive while I had my issues w/my jaw & everything related to that, and getting it back was easier said than done because I'd had like, two unpaid parking tickets at the time of my medical issues beginning & they kinda completely dropped out of sight, out of mind, only to multiply w/fees that were fucking ridiculous to contemplate & going down to the DMV or traffic court to try and argue them down, while my medical issues were still ongoing, was a nonstarter due to how little travel I was capable of in that state....

LOL. Not a great starting point when rebooting for Kalen 2.0 - and of course I'm not going to get into why we had to use my ID & everything for renting & all that, instead of Moukie's, just trust that there were Reasons.

And of course there are programs to help people out with these kinds of circumstances, which is basically what we've been doing since January 2022....navigating that labyrinth of red tape, because actually ACCESSING those programs, proving eligibility, meeting all requirements, keeping consistent with all requirements throughout the months of waiting on a verdict from higher-ups your file's been passed up the chain to....MUCH easier said than done. The hoops are just. The stuff of legends. Especially when you're still having trouble consistently staying stocked on the meds you need to be productive & functional, or even just keeping your phone active. Oof. All of that was very Not Fun.

Which segues into a bit of that venting I was talking about, because over & over the past couple years we've had well-meaning (and not so well-meaning & largely just obnoxious) people asking us in response to our donation posts like, well why don't we just move to a cheaper city? LOL. I just. I wish people would stop to think that maybe if there's such an obvious solution that someone hasn't availed themselves to yet, there's probably a REASON for that.

We actually had several. For starters, there's the fact that I still have stuff related to my jaw to deal with....I still have no teeth, lol, and haven't really been able to even START getting the bone grafts I need to be able to get implants at some point, so I'm not stuck with dentures for the next fifty years....and it took me literal years to find dentists familiar with my situation, willing to work with me on payment plans & longterm strategizing, etc.....not that easy to just start over with all of that in another, smaller city. Not to mention if I do have any problems with my prosthetic, LA's one of the only places that has ANY surgeons that deal with this specific kind of jaw replacement surgery, so I'd always have to come back here for any further medical related stuff.

But then there's additionally the fact that all those programs meant to help people like us who are literally trying to restart their lives after medical issues, homelessness, etc.....they're pretty much all specific to their own city. They're all contingent on each individual city's resources, services, populations and a million other details.....so moving to a different city basically means having to start all over again with applying to THAT city's housing aid programs & navigating THAT city's bureaucracy from its beginning & forfeiting however much time or progress you've put in already in the city you're currently in. And frankly, most cities don't HAVE as good of aid programs as LA does....its just...it takes fucking forever to actually make full USE of such programs, as evident from the fact that after almost two years, we're only FINALLY to the point where one of those programs has been able to actionably help us secure longterm housing.

(And also there's the fact that when we don't even have enough money for groceries, how cheap do people thinking picking up and moving to another city actually IS? Like. You need starter money to even GET there & get on your feet or you wind up in an even worse situation than we were in).

But honestly, we didn't have it so bad, we have been able to stay housed & working various odd jobs for the past two years....its just been long, and stressful, never actually knowing when or even IF we'd get to the point where we stopped worrying about being kicked out at any given moment, and there were times that looking for housing or trying to deal with bureaucratic red tape was the equivalent of a full time job, in terms of hours required.

All of which is to say....be aware when assuming the worst of various donation posts & their posters, that except in the case of actual scammers, no matter what you may think of how a particular donation request was worded or described their situation, its almost always VASTLY more complicated than can be summed up in a couple of easy to read paragraphs that might actually get people to help. I promise you, if super obvious solutions seem evident to you, they've occurred to the people living with that situation 24/7, and there's a reason that they haven't tried that solution or maybe they even did & for whatever reason it didn't actually work out.

And that said, all of this is also to say just....thank you again for everyone who's helped us out over the years. I know it often seems unending or like we're never getting our acts together, lol, but trust me, it feels that way to us too, times a million, and like....we're working on it. Its just. Much easier said than done. For every hurdle cleared, there's usually another one waiting to pop up like a fucking whack-a-mole game from Hell. Since January 2022 we've been consistently working towards a longterm, stable housing situation and this is it, this is what we were working towards.....we've been fully approved for relocation to the other site for the next year & then returning to this one after construction/renovation, w/a lease agreement for the next five years.....and that's the dream, honestly.

Genuine stability, not having to worry about whether we'll have to move at any given moment, actual housing security....allowing us to FINALLY focus on building our lives back up, instead of constantly grinding just to keep a roof over our head & make sure nobody's about to kick us out....and having the room to breathe & for the first time in literal years (in my case, almost seven at this point) actually prioritize something OTHER than figuring out where we stand on paperwork, filing, tracking down various liaisons to bug them yet again about an accurate timeline for when we'd be notified of whether or not we'd been approved for this program or that one, when we'd actually be relocating, when we had to make x payment by to ensure we didn't lose our qualified status, etc.

And I, for one, definitely can not WAIT to give more of a shit about the absolute stupidest shit imaginable instead of like....warily checking the hall to see if new eviction notices popped up overnight. LMAO.

Anyway. Like I said, we finally have our agreement in writing, we know where we're relocating to, and as soon as that actually happens - which they keep insisting should be any day now, sigh - we'll finally be in a much better place. As part of the relocation program we landed in, our rent at the other site is covered during the year this site is under construction, so already just from that alone we'll be much better off financially.

Moukie's been sending around a donation post this month, and we'll probably keep it circulating up until the day the movers arrive and they finally pull the trigger on us leaving this site, because for the last three months they've been insisting that October 2nd was absolutely going to be our last day here, and we planned around that timetable....meaning that since October 2nd came and went with us still here, our only jobs at the moment are whatever freelance ones we can scrounge up, since the new place is far enough away a commute to & from a workplace around HERE wouldn't be viable, so I can't even go look for a new one to replace the last one until we're actually in the area we'll be spending next year in, lol. So in the meanwhile we've basically been surviving off donations since freelance work is painfully dry at the moment, and as it is, the company Moukie does editing work for still hasn't paid them for their last job yet, which was back in September, I believe? Its ridiculous, but it is what it is.

So yeah, we'll keep that post circulating a bit longer til we're out of here for good, basically just for food money until we're settled in the new place & can grab a new 9-5 and I would say something about that damn patreon I'm always claiming I'll make except I am a Proven Liar Not To Be Trusted On That Subject at this point, but hey, once we're in the new place, maybe that will finally change.

That's basically everything I set out to ramble about, I think, so....I'm done. Wait. Lemme check - yeah, no, that's it, I'm good. I've said it before but it'll never stop being true: we would not have survived if it weren't for the kindness of strangers & the help of mutuals & followers & we really are so much more appreciative of it than I can ever adequately express. I know that can come across as lip service, but genuinely, people here have done more for us and to help us and to see us succeed than our families ever did and we've been reduced to ugly-crying more than once as a result. Its gotten bad, guys. Like. When I go all out, it's not a pretty sight. I've got that pale Irish skin that gets all splotchy when I'm emotional, my nose gets all stopped up, I make scrunchy faces like a baby that KNOWS its not as pretty as its parents keep trying to pretend and is out to prove it....its a whole mess.

And on that note - and imagery - I'm officially done here. Thanks for reading!

[ashtrayfloors]

Though, also worth noting...is that skateboarding, at least between the mid-eighties and mid-nineties, was one of the (many) places the gift economy was in radical action, by which I mean in practice. It was just the case that whatever you had extra—and skateboarding, with its many components (decks, wheels, bearings, trucks, bushings, riser pads, rails, Rip Grip, bolts, etc.) made for extra—you passed along. Most of us had a bucket of some sort where, when someone needed something, we dug around to find it. I never once heard anyone express it as an ethics (sharing, redistribution, commonwealthing), though if you tried to keep your extra to yourself, if you spoke to no one of your bucket, and then it got out you had one, and gleaming like gold in that extra Independent truck was the kingpin one of us needed to skate that day, the reaction would be an ethical one: Yo, that’s fucked up, man.      Also worth noting is that skateboarding’s reemergence, at least in the US, is almost perfectly concurrent with a new gilded age, a grotesque accumulation and celebration of wealth, deregulation, the dismantling of the welfare state, mass incarceration, NAFTA, taking the solar panels off the roof of the White House, privatization of everything, further enclosure of the commons, and the unabashed, unapologetic, mongering sanctification of hoarding. Of the hoard.

...

...the only limitation to what might be skated, or made public, or commoned, or shared, is the imagination.      Which, yeah, leaves some marks sometimes. Though the residual polyurethane script of previous wall-riders, the frenetic black rainbows streaking a white wall, to me indicates possibility, skateability, to maintenance, and most definitely to the owner of the building, they are a headache, and might even hit ‘em in the wallet if they want that wall real clean. To the owners, everything is a headache, or a potentional headache, which is to say: a threat. And to the skaters everything is skateable. As you can see, this is an endless loop that results either in criminalization (and the once ubiquitous Skateboarding Is Not a Crime sticker), or the very pristine and perfect skateparks municipalities have taken to building as a kind of legal protest corral, helmets and recycling strongly encouraged.      It is so odd to be old enough to catch myself saying things like “I’m so glad they didn’t have that then.” You know, cellular telephones. Homework. Schedules. Parents. Bottled water. Strange to say, but skateparks, too, I’m so glad we didn’t really have. We had the thing behind 7-Eleven on Maple Ave., a little rough but still nice. We had the drainage ditch up behind the car dealerships. We had the car dealerships. We had the loading docks behind the supermarket. We had Herbert Hoover Elementary School, which included the roof. We had that jarring bit of transition behind Burger King, and the culvert behind Mindy’s Skateshop. We had those sexy, long, slippery, connected parking curbs at the school near where Georgie moved over in Fairless Hills. Another ditch, kinda steep but good, behind the Posh Nosh and the Clemons, where they carried Transworld SKATEboarding magazine. We had dumpsters we could flip over, and washing machines or dryers left by the dumpster we could boardslide and grind. We had those ramps we built of good wood we found at local construction sites in the middle of the night. We had the SEPTA station in Penndel, the park bench and that indecipherable hunk of wood Harley and I pulled from the trash and skated for hours. We had those high yellow curbs over the sewer grates. That ramp we took out of the driveway of that kid Steve who wouldn’t share his bucket. We skated and ollied off the wooden boardwalk and steps of Seafood Shanty. Ledges, the fountain, the speed bumps, the smooth yellow curbs at the mall. We had that little course we built from a stash of railroad ties and some scavenged plywood in the janky, netless, heavenly smooth tennis courts at the apartments, until they banished skating from the premises with threat of eviction. Of course they did.

—Ross Gay, from “Share Your Bucket! (Skateboarding: The Fifth Incitement)” (Inciting Joy, Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill, 2022)

[anonymusbosch]

so. first of all I don't know anything. take everything with a massive grain of salt

second - this is talking about housing in a very capital-y framework which is not necessarily reflective of viewpoints I hold

I don't want to engage directly with the original post I'm responding to here, but re: private construction vs gvt-owned construction of housing - when it comes to affordable housing in California in particular (where around half of homeless people in the US live), there's an obvious(?) contributor - zoning laws that prevent housing from being built in sufficient quantity to keep prices low, market-style. some people respond to this with "if we relax zoning and incentivize private construction, the problem will fix itself". Then there's the "por que no los dos" approach to public vs private investment in housing, which seems kind of a no-brainer on its face (have state-sponsored construction alongside private construction) - but I think there's a major piece missing to that, which is that - even accepting the premise of that framing - scarcity, like, exists? And particularly in construction labor, particularly in California, supply is slow to respond to demand. For years there's been an diminishing number of construction workers (and in many cases plumbers, electricians, etc) as the pace of construction has been kept slow and things like computer labs have supplanted wood shop/metal shop in schools - AND as the cost of living has increased, it's been harder to get by on manual labor wages, pushing people already in the field out of it. Part of the reason housing is more expensive to build in CA, even when it's allowed, is that labor and materials are scarce. (This is ofc in addition to addl regulations, environmental review hurdles, etc.)

The other side of public v private construction that I don't think is acknowledged as much (among people already gung-ho about building more housing) is that when there's such a tight market, the first thing to be built with private capital is the thing which sells for the most money. Okay, that people talk about. But if the response is "but let them keep building and it will eventually get to an equilibrium/drive prices down" - I don't think that's very reassuring? The problem is present now. And say housing prices drop from $3000/month for a one bedroom apartment in SF to $2000/month - that's a significant enough drop to open the market to people who previously didn't move there because it's too expensive but not nearly enough to make the prevailing wage for, e.g., a city janitor ($17.29/hr) or a construction worker hauling material at a site ($22.50/hr) super tenable. More people move in, but the low end of the market doesn't budge until all the upper tiers have been satisfied - and meanwhile, the people building and taking care of those buildings still can't afford to live in them. This seems like it will keep the cost of construction fairly high for a fairly extended period of time, right?

one answer is to increase pay for construction workers - with the consequence of increasing the cost of construction and making the cheaper units even more unfavorable to build (for investors). this is already happening to some degree.

So it seems, especially with the time it takes to get additional people into the construction industry, like the #1 priority should be public funding for the type of housing least attractive to investors and most consequential for the people who need it most - low-cost affordable housing. other priorities should absolutely be re-incentivizing the trades, rezoning to allow much denser housing in the sprawl, etc. but in terms of the massive deficit of housing and homelessness crisis, it really seems like priority one should be building cheap now. b/c the longer it takes to get housing, the more expensive it'll get.

(sidebar: gvt-owned housing also may allow the government to avoid some funding/paperwork issues like what's happened with the Cecil Hotel, though given how much of a trainwreck they made of it, I don't know how much hope I can have)

(sidebar 2: don't have the links handy but I'm reminded of two studies - one that showed that median rents in an area increased when rent control was implemented, one that found that rents increased when rent control was removed.)

@triviallytrue I don't know if any of this is of interest - thoughts?

[bu1410]

Good afternoon TUMBLR - April 24th - 2024

''Mr. Plant has owed me a shoe since July 5, 1971."

Atyrau Kazakhstan – Dec 2004 – Oct 2010 - Kashagan Development Project

Part 4

OUR ISRAELI CLIENT After about a year and a half in which we had worked exclusively for AGIP, the so-called Early Works were running out. It thus became necessary for our company to find another client (and therefore other work). An Israeli company named BATEMAN had won the contract for the construction of Utilities & Power Generation for the Karabotan plant, where we had been operating since June 2004. BATEMAN was owned by an Israeli billionaire, with interests in South Africa in the field of gold and diamond mining. Experience in Oil & Gas: 0.00. So, you may ask, how did he manage to obtain a contract worth over 870 million dollars for the construction of an oil plant? Simple, you just need to have the ''right friends''. And Mr. Bateman had many good friends, one of whom was General Colin Powell. Yes, he was the one who presented to the UN the farce of the 'Weapons of Mass Destruction' that Saddam Hussein was ready to use against the West. We then began preliminary meetings to try to obtain at least part of that enormous order. Which came true at the beginning of October 2006, with the signing of an important agreement: we would be the so-called Main Sub Contractor for the Civil - Structural - Mechanical part of the Utilities! A job worth over 140 million dollars! In mid-December the first Bateman representatives arrived, and temporarily settled in a rented villa near our offices in Atyrau. And it was in that house that the ''kick off meeting'' was convened, which marks the official start of a project. We meet to get to know each other, to set rules and objectives, ways of discussing and communicating, etc. We spent an entire afternoon inside that house, together with fifteen Israelis and their leader, an Englishman who won't last long and will be ''kicken away'' by the ''Israeli mafia'' inside Bateman. Eventually we went out into the garden, some to smoke, others to stretch their legs and get some fresh air. At a certain point an Israeli who had participated in the meeting took me aside, with that ''conspiracy behaviour'' way of acting that I would later notice was part of the way many of them behave . So this individual named Zvi takes me by the arm, pulls me into a sheltered corner of the garden and then says:

Listen…I want you to know that of everything that was said this afternoon…few of us understood anything…almost all of us, including me, are ex-servicemen to whom the Government guaranteed a job after their service in the army or in the navy……only some are engineers…….

Really?? – I replied, waiting for the sequel.

Yes it is and you will notice it….

And then?

So I wanted to ask you a favor

Well…if I may…….

I would like you to explain to me what happens on the construction site… maybe I would come to your office for a couple of hours every afternoon… so I could understand… and not be thought of as stupid… especially towards that Mr. Colin… that B<ritish guy …he is only looking for a favorable opportunity to chase us Israelis away, and replace us with his fellows countrymen….

Well come on - I continued - we'll see what I can do… of course I can't assure you anything… but I'll try to give you a hand… I got away with it like this, remaining vague, because being at the beginning of our relationship with the Israelis I didn't know how to manage this thing. I was certainly astonished by Zvi's admission of 'ignorance'. If these were the premises, we were certainly not faced with an easy task with these characters.

OUR CONSTRUCTION BASE

We had officially become Sub Contractors of the Israelis for an important project. We were therefore authorized by AGIP to build our own compound within the perimeter of the construction site, where the local employees would be accommodated. Unfortunately, our company did not have large financial means, so we had to make do with second-hand housing containers, and the assembly of different modules to create canteens, changing rooms, warehouses, and everything needed to make people live up to 200 people. When the construction of the compound was finished, we underwent visits for testing and inspection evidence by not only the AGIP representatives, but also the officials of a whole series of municipal, regional and state bodies and organisations, whose aim was only one: to earn money and benefits on top of it. The day of the compound inauguration came, and a big party was organized. As Project Manager, I had to undergo a series of quite demanding ''task'', namely:

Pretend to ''help'' the muezzin to cut the throats of the two poor shhep who were sacrificed for the success of the project.

Get up from the head of the table and, after having delivered the usual speech full of rhetoric, show everyone that I was biting the ear of one of the aforementioned sheep.

Show that I appreciate the goodness of one of the sheeep's eye.

In the end I managed to do everything that was asked for (and above all what the Kazakh workers expected of me).

Mr. BRIAN J - Construction Manager This was another ''veteran'' of some Israeli war, bearded, small, and with one leg put together after having jumped on an anti-personnel mine somewhere in the Sinai. After removing the supply of carpentry from our scope of work (because they found a company in Russia that did it for 2 dollars x ton less than us, they said…) the structures began to arrive on site. Of course many of the beams and columns were wrong, with mistakes in measurements and drillings. So Brain called me and asked to provide a team to unload and check the carpentry and then report all the problems found. A morning I received a strange email from Brian on my cc, in which he asked his supervisor who controls the carpentry delivery to note down and then report to him the times of our crane real use. I called Brian and asked to see him and within 20 minutes I was sitting across from him in his office. Well, Brian was a simple and polite man, so I had to address him with direct questions, so without beating around the bush I ask him:

Brian, when you go from your home to Tel Aviv airport, do you call a taxi?

sure.

And when the taxi is taking you to the airport stops at a red light, or in a queue on the motorway, do you ask the taxi driver to stop the meter?

Ummm…no….

Well, then why did you ask your supervisor to note the downtime of our crane during the unloading work of your carpentry?

………silence …frowning of thick eyelashes……………….

Ahhh…nooo…says Brian – it's not what you think…my request is only for an internal check….

So if it's for an ''internal check'', why did you copy me on the email?

Noo…sorry…it was an Outlook error…

Ok Brian, I wanted to clarify this little setback, have a good day. Once, at a weekly meeting, exasperated by those guys behavior I asked:

But if we have to do everything, what are you doing here on the project?

Their Site Manager replied these exact words: ''To top up the invoices you send us by 25%, and then pass them on to AGIP.''

HITZAK SHKOLNIK The Israeli supervisor who was directly in charge of the carpentry was called Skolnik. Also a veteran of the Yom Kippur War, he was missing two fingers on his right hand, so we immediately nicknamed him ''three fingers''. A man of considerable stature, and with a large belly, weighing around 120 kg. An avid motorcyclist, he was riding his BMW 1200 cc. One day I was on the Istanbul – Atyrau flight (which in the meantime had passed under the aegis of the Air Astana company owned by President Nursultan's daughter) when returning from the toilet I heard a voice saying:

So now you don't say hello to your friends anymore?

I turn to the side where the voice came from - which I had recognized - but I don't see Skolnik, but a tall, thin, emaciated man. Then I look at him better, and I recognize the long scar on his jaw, the aquiline nose and yes! It's really Skolnik!!

Hey man! I teld him – what happened to you? We've not been seeing you for a while!

Yes – he says, shaking my hand with three remaining fingers – I took some time to recover from the stomach operation – can't you see how much shape I've recovered??

In fact I recognized you by your voice, certainly not by your appearance - what happened to the extra kilos?

I lost 47 kg after the operation, and I started using my motorbike again.

Well…happy to see you back, Mr. Skolnik! Unrecognizable…among other things, in cases where an individual loses all those kilos, it is better to always see him dressed…

MACCHI - BOILERS FACTORY - Porto Marghera, Italy Our scope of work on the Utilities project included the assembly of three boilers supplied by MACCHI of Porto Marghera. On the occasion of my return trip to Italy for holidays, a visit to the MACCHI factory was organised, in which, in addition to myself, Mr. D'Ascenzo AGIP Construction Manager and Mr. Marrone on behalf of BATEMAN, were participating. The visit lasted half a day, in which I essentially understood two things:

The first was that the boilers would be supplied in approximately 47,000 pieces/each and we would have to put them all together.

The second is that workplace safety in Italy – at least in July 2007 when our visit took place – was at the level of 3rd world! The enormous MACCHI facory where the boilers were assembled was looking like a Dante's circle of Hell! Full of fumes (and therefore unhealthy for the workers who worked there) there were kilometers of electrical cables on the floor (they were used for the welding machines) the workers smoked while working - and dozens of other dangerous situations that I won't even list: I was shocked ! The factory looked directly onto a canal connected to the open sea, so we witnessed the exit of a huge boiler from the workshop, which was later loaded onto a barge – it would then be transported to the port, and later shipped to Libya. I then asked the AGIP Construction Manager why the same method had not been chosen for our boilers. The answer was:

''MACCHI had made three proposals - the first to send the boilers completely assembled (it had been rejected due to transport problems along the Volga-Don canal).

The second proposal envisaged sending the boilers semi-assembled, i.e. in packages to be assembled on site.

The third proposal consisted of sending the boilers disassembled''.

And why did AGIP opt for the third proposal? I asked

Because it's the cheapest, obviously.

Yes – I said – but then we will have to assemble all those thousands of pieces.

Of course - replied D'Avanzo - there are always poor people who undergo this ordeal……

Thank you… you're too kind… (D'Ascenzo perfectly in line with AGIP policy: you work for them and they consider you ''a necessary evil'')

[writegoblin]

Michael Myers Headcanons

:3 I have michael brain rot, and I'm taking a little break from the documentary I've been working on to write this. But I'm focusing less on romance and more on my general, personal headcanons! Okay cool enjoy mwah

- According to his file, he has conversion disorder which is a brain disorder that can effect how the nerves communicate to one another. This explains why he did really feel the whole... getting shot three times thing. And also why he's mute!

- Conversion disorder also makes seizures like a non-zero chance. So here's my take! I think every time Loomis went to observe him, he was having an episode.

- His seizures are triggered by over excitement. He took medicine for it in the hospital. If he gets too blood lusty, he runs the risk of seizing mid-fight, paralyzing him.

- He doesn't have the classic collapsing seizure, but more the freeze in place, "I'm having a stroke" type deal.

- He loves sweets not just cause of Halloween, but also cause his mom used to make baked goods all the time. He misses them :((

- It's not that he's emotionless per say, but rather his psychopathy makes it difficult to identify these emotions. He "cares" about people the same way you might care about bees. Fundamentally yes! Personally? Nah.

- He's a squatter. Like a proper urban survivalist. I imagine he has a little hideout shack out in some abandoned construction site. It's a small town, so it's not unheard of to run out of funding for certain projects.

- If the cops are hot on his tail, in fact, he rotates living spaces. He's never in one spot for too long.

- His favorite spot, of course, is his old house.

- He likes cartoons cause they're more stimulating. The bright colors make his brain go brrrrr

- He used to work out as a way to manage his aggression in the hospital. Like, calisthenics! Push ups, sits ups, pulls ups, etc.

- Insomniac, though it does work in his favor. He works best under the cover of the night, so he does all his business after 6 pm. (By business, I mean taking stock of his supplies, maybe moving, perhaps a bit of murder <3)

- When he's not in the murder fit tm, he's wearing black sweats or some variation.

- If you show him anime he's hypnotized. He's in love. Weeb Myers 2024.

[bunchacrunchcake]

I got off the internet, mostly, and it's been great. Here are some reasons.

Social media companies keep you on their sites by showing addictive content. They sometimes trigger fight or flight. They often trigger social anxiety. They are literally modeled after slot machines (low risk, variable reward) You will constantly crave dopamine, never get enough, feel awful, and never know why.

Staring at the ceiling or reading a book isn't hard anymore. It took about a month, but... if I can't figure out something to do for this very second, I just kind of look around until I figure something out. Sometimes it's boring, that's okay. Being bored just isn't the psychic torture it used to be. It's pretty mundane.

I do all my chores. I used to have to block time out to do this or that. Then force myself to stop what I was doing (which was often using multiple apps and websites as well as watching a movie or playing a game,) to go do something incredibly boring. I don't have to combat that level of inertia anymore. If I'm microwaving or cooking something, I just do a few dishes here or there, or do some sweeping for a couple minutes. It all adds up and my house is cleaner and more organized. What I used to do while my food was cooking was scroll through reels until I could break away to keep cooking.

I consume less, but retain more information. Let's be honest, you've gone by probably 100 posts today. What was the last one about? Okay, what about 10 posts ago? I can read half a book in a day if I want to (don't always want to,) because I can just sit down and read. I'm not constantly fighting the urge to go do something more interesting. And I can make up my mind about whether I like it or not, the plot, character development, etc. My attention span is long enough to read 100 pages in the afternoon, go make tea, and mush it all around in my head while the kettle is boiling. I also don't waste my time watching or reading things I don't like. I used to look at youtube and be like "I have to watch something, what am I going to watch?" Now I go, "Is there anything interesting in my feed?" The question is different, and I've learned that often there is not. I used to watch and watch and watch just to fill time. Now that I don't have to, so much less of it is actually interesting. Reels and TikTok are actually painfully boring. They're huge huge dopamine hits, but about 1 in 50 are actually interesting and even less of them really add much to my life. I used to binge watch them for hours.

I worry less about what other people think. Top comments are always someone arguing. Comment replies on reddit and almost every other platform are arguing. If they're not picking apart a thought you casually came up with on an evening off, they're actively throwing hate at you. You might get adoration too. But none of it is really constructive. It doesn't really help you develop your thoughts or grow as a person. Plus, not everyone is going to like what you do or who you are. Part of growth is not trying to avoid negativity, but understanding where it comes from and whether you think it's a legitimate thing to work on or not. Social media just hurls unconstructive negativity at you 24/7. The amount of times I think about whether someone else would like what I'm doing in the current moment is dialed down from a 10/10 to a 1 or 2. Yes it's okay that you were a jerk to the cashier because you were having a bad day. It's not a good thing. Please learn from it and try to figure out how to not do it in the future, but you're not irredeemable. The internet tends to throw the baby out with the bathwater as far as personalities and people go. It's hard to walk around in life trying to be morally perfect when everyone's opinion of what that is is so drastically different.

In short, I am patient, I don't second guess myself, and I'm happy. It didn't happen immediately and it might not to you, but it was my experience and I am not sure I will be a regular social media user any time soon.