#its embarrassing to even exist atp | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

goremet-chef · 1 year

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maybe ill tell my mom im hungry? im so. my entire LIFE i have always always hated asking for things like so much so that i stopped asking for things on my BIRTHDAY because im like. terrified of being seen as selfish? idk its funny cuz parents will like. god forbid i get a treat when im a kid, then all the grown ups in my life look down and call me spoiled as if they didnt give me the treat, and they still think children arent capable of complex thought so they didnt anticipate that id internalize it for the rest of my life but here we are 😁😁

so i just. god i hate asking for things it makes me feel so shitty but i think shes gonna go somewhere anyways? and EVENTUALLY hes going to run out of things to cook so maybe if i ask she'll bring home some food (vent/rant)

that is one thing that always bothers me tho ive got? idk my mom is. shes my mom i guess, currently she treats me very nicely but when her bf was gone for a few years all that anger was directed at me so yknow. i guess shes over it? or she tries to make up for it, but if im not given an apology, i wont forgive or forget even. it was mutual, lots of arguing on the basis of politics at time, but sometimes it was just fucking nothing, to the point where she'd even admit that i didnt deserve that treatment its just. SIGHHHHH im over it at this point im just trying to get out atp yknow? but like

my sibling asks for LOTS of things. and they get all of them. money for computer parts? sure. money for literally any thing? sure. new game? sure

im not bitter about it, as long as my mom can afford it i dont care. but like....... whenever I ask for things, its usually a no

because of my BPD, i take rejection really hard, its the worst pain in the world so i kinda just stopped asking for anything at all to avoid the feeling. then they always are like "ohh what do you want for yr birthday we cant just get you nothing" but i actually DID ask for something on my birthday. i asked for a copy of pokemon black for the ds. it was the only thing ive directly asked for in years, and i didnt get it which is super embarrassing. like whats the point of bothering me about what i want if you dont listen to me when i do? they always get me what they THINK i want and its this really outdated version of me that doesnt even exist anymore, its makes me dissociate knowing thats what they see me as when im just not that anymore. even when i tell them its null

IDK its jsut a whole thing, idk how to feel about it anymore. its to the point where like. my friends take me out sometimes but i mean. they know im broke, they know i have no job, they know i have no income. but im terrified the entire time that theyre gonna like. ask me to pay or something, and i always do my best to just do nothing when we go out cuz i really like. even when they offer to get me things it makes me feel so fucking shitty man i feel like im just leeching off of them even when they offered. even when they tell me they like getting me things it just. it feels so bad. and GOD its embarrassing, when we're walking around stores and all im doing is just following them around because i have like FIVE DOLLARS in my pocket at most. things like that make me want to never leave my house again, it just sucks.

im jealous of them if im honest, because they have jobs and i dont. but i dont think? i genuinely am unsure id ever be able to get a job. im not well adjusted like them, im constantly dissociating, constantly tired, my sibling yesterday, i made a comment about my mom leaving without telling me at all and he was like "well she said she was leaving on the weekend didnt she?" like yes, she did, but i genuinely have no idea what day it is at any given point. all i know is the number, i dont know the day of the week ever.

like im so. fucked, im fucked! totally, even if i managed to get me shit together, relearn the days of the week, set a good sleep schedule, im fucked anyways because i dont know how to be a person at all. an interview sounds fucking terrifying, ESPECIALLY if i dont know the questions theyre going to ask. i do really REALLY poorly with actual human conversation, like its painful. and pretty much everyone around me thinks im kinda creepy or weird in some way, so theyd DEFINITELY be able to tell. i have no resume, i dont even know what that IS. like im so fucked!! i wasnt able to pass highschool, i cant partake in a conversation if i dont somehow have both sides planned perfectly.

little unsure about my odds, gotta be honest

but at the same time like? i keep hearing people say "if you cant work then get disability insurance" am i disabled? everyone around me tells me im just not trying hard enough. they laugh at me when i say i just cant. even if it covers mental illness, i? i dont know. im constantly in denial of things because my family specifically my mom like. a long time ago she told me i just couldnt be autistic, because im "too smart"

?????? it showed me immediately that she has absolutely no fucking idea what shes talking about ever, i bet she couldnt list more than 2 symptoms of autism like genuinely. im not even smart also????? maybe id be a genius, if i could retain information after 5 minutes 💀💀 its complete bullshit man, im just. im at a loss

and then they have the audacity to mock me for not knowing how to be a person in the world, when THEY shouldve taught me. it was THEIR job to help guide me through it, and they didnt. they laugh and roll their eyes and scoff when i tell them oh i dont know how to use a stove, i dont know what food stamps are i dont know how to dress for a job interview ETC

they expect ill know, that i wouldve jsut picked it up over time but surprise! i didnt. i need instruction i need CLEAR instruction and no one will give it to me. its so frustrating man, they suck ass and they just make me feel WORSE about myself. like good fucking god, give me a break

idk im just. exhausted. im tired of just cramming my problems down because the people around me are incapable of seeing me as anything other than a child, and children dont have problems, right? i have no right to complain if my backs constantly hurting, if im too tired to feed myself properly, if i cant leave my house for 2 seconds without feeling the deepest dread. like be so serious bro

i cant wait to fucking move out, but.. how? my friends said its okay if i cant always make enough money from art to pay rent, but no. i dont believe them at all. theyre just being nice to me and i dont even deserve that, i fucking refuse i cant just. im always dead weight, its so frustrating. it frustrates the people around me, too. i feel like such a fucking burden man, its so tiring. if its not things i just dont know how to do, its fear. oh i cant help clean the garage because its crawling with spiders, i cant take out the trash because the trash bins are crawling with spiders. i cant walk down the stairs because i saw a spider on the ground. they fucking hate me man

i know what they see me as, but i have no idea how to convince them that its not me. they think im rude because i dont know how to properly communicate, i say things and its rude to them and i feel bad because i didnt intend to come off that way. everyone thinks im selfish, they think im overdramatic. exaggerating. if they could live in my head for one day, they wouldnt think that anymore

its so exhausting because you dont even get any sort of sympathy from them! just like. awkward pity, and it makes me wish i was never born. never oh im sorry yr feeling that way, do you wanna talk about it? never

they see me as such an obvious burden but they? i dont know! i genuinely cant understand, they think i just have no complex emotions? they think i cant hear it, cant see it? they think i dont feel like a burden when they tell me i am. its so stupid

i cant stand being around anyone, and it just pushes me FURTHER into dissociation. ive got an interesting thing with that. see, typically when yr dissociate with a dissociative disorder like OSDD or DID, that hazy period in time opens up for another alter to front, you dissociate away and get tucked inside yr head. except i get maladaptive daydreams. so im fully dissociated in another world basically but im still physically present. its like i just always take up space thats never meant for me, in every conceivable way. i hate it.

i know, when i finish typing this, ill feel a lot better. which is just embarrassing, bpd fucking sucks. having no emotional permanence is EMBARRASSING when im over here crying on my knees about my problems and then the second i get it out i feel completely fine. it just makes me invalidate my very real emotions even further and its so.

im just. whatever.

just spit it out and stop looking that way

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misterbitches · 3 years

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i live in a universe where if i were to walk down the street i could get murdered willy nilly cos im black but men are out here going around being like “my boyfriend and i met when he was a junior in high school” i don’t believe in jail and i try not to make jail jokes but HOW IS THAT FAIR? JAIL!!! GUILLOTINE!!!! GET THIS MAN A RETIREMENT FUND AND A THERAPIST

that dialogue was fucking embarrassing. he shoulda just said “im 12 yrs older than him” no one needs to know u were 30 dating a 17 year old u insecure freak. retire bitch and get away from her

i wanted muren so badly to be like “LMAO SRY didnt mean to seem surprised i just like men my own age i guess?” i wouldnt have even apologized if i was surprised. my friend was dating someone ten yrs younger than him and i made fun of him for it and he was like “i know” bc he does know.

just a tip: i don’t like getting hit on by men way older than me, a lot of people don’t. i’ve had men who are 36 interested in me when i was 23, and i reciprocated, but now as i am 29 and older i realize how much it confused me and how i didn’t like it.

age gaps are what they are. ther’es many times i do not like it especially if it is a pattern (this is what happens in tv shows and movies and the opposite of that isn’t gay age gaps or power imbalances or women much older than a younger man ok that’s not progress it’s just peopl ewanting to be like cis men and no one wants that) and esp if the person’s peers are all their ages. people seem to forget that we travel in the same social circles on purpose due to our environments and also our world experiences. the only way to meet an older man is outside of school and yet adults can’t seem to control themselves?

i saw this person who was one of the editors of sexual hegemony (a book on capitalism and homophobic laws and sex basically idk google it it’s interesting) and he was trying to have a foucultian outlook (i hate focault btw doesn’t mean what he says wasnt interesting but it does mean i am not okay with psychosexual philosophers who take advantage of people. the only testament against him having reltaions with younger people is a bunch of young people i nfucking tunisia and there’s an excuse that he wasn’t a fucking pedophile he was those ebebebbeopopopo people and it doesnt matter when ur in fucking tunisia as a white french algerian fucking preying on children) how age of consent laws desexualize younger people. they were passed for abunch of reasons like any law but here is the thing

we have no business in being in spaces to determine children’s sexual identity and teenagers in their own realm. THEY need to figure it out. our job as adults is to PROTECT THEM full stop. not intrude on their lfe and not give them the tools to decide for themselves. age of consent laws are meant to protect not to facilitate children against some boogeyman of sex. the issue is the way our society views it but young people are sexual AS YOUNG PEOPLE. it has NOTHING to do with adults and it shouldn’t. that’s why it is extra fucking intrusive when you are literally wedged into someone’s life who you have no business being around. it’s only by fucking circumstance. it’s abysmal and not cute.

what this tells me is that the age gap is salacious. not in the way that i was 23 and a man was 36. in the way that he was 17 and this dude was 29. that’s interesting right? it’s “oooh” and it means we shouldn’t balk at it. saying 12 years would have sufficed, raises some eyebrows, and we can figure out the dynamics after but you just had to put that in BECAUSE YOU FUCKING LIKE IT but the thing is there’s no part of it that was fun. i’m just going to assume you like fucking teenagers bc that’s what it’s telling me lmao

i rarely talk about this couple but to put them in my eyeballs and then have that stupid conversation it was insulting lmao god please get a fucking script supervisor fuck but none of them care about sotry or any of what i fucking laid out. how stupid and careless and just unfun. i don’t like it. also ew at the idea of 2 tops and 2 bottoms talking oh my god i am gonna give myself a heart attack i’m already so fucking anxious i have to see my family lemme chill

im 29 and feel bad having a crush on a 23 year old CELEBRITY ok and i SHOULD feel ashamed and it’s not even a big deal that’s how everyone should approach life tbqh u walk around like ur 100 yrs old to avoid children. oh what’s that this korean cebrity learned english and moved to america to start a family with me and i find him very hot and i like his voice but we’re 6 years apart i’m not sure if i would work (how fun of a drama would that be. pointless and ridiculous. i love it.)

oh there’s a great review on CMBYN and its history and how the isolation and seeclusion was so fuckign capitalist bougie patriarchy and yea idk if anyone is interested. i think it’s ironic the ending for the people in CMBYN irl bc it’s just. so indicative of this shit. i dont like guadignino (idk is that how u spell his name) and think he’s not a great....person or director (i love the look of suspiria tho likke visually and edited. the DP was thai btw! he did an amazing job!!!) but it critiques this film from a perspective of someone who clearly at least cares about artistry, no matter how poorly i think he executes it, and just how hollow it is. the thing about “escapism” is that it relies on the harsh realities of the world to make it opposite, everything has context, nothing is apolitical. to make something that exists in a vacuum is negligent and it doesn’t help you escape it makes you even more tied to this world and its flaws because it doesn’t do anything to mitigate it.

people view it as like “we can put something stupid on screen and people have to accept it in this world” but that isn’t how IT WORKS. you hvae to build up the stakes of the world. but i can’t see introducing some “taboo” (see: stupid) elements and pretending the escapism is seeing this and allowing it. how could it be when the problem is the nature of the rship itself? what world are you taking us to? and why does this world ignore the pressing realities? and i wouldnt say either of these are explicit escapism (i think i hate that word now) becuase um they arent. this fantastical generally rich people escapism isn’t about bending things that don’t work to mold it into our society because WE DO THAT ALREADY it’s about taking those things and twisting them to something we can accept and like or something that has real consequences for people. it’s so funny how marketing and the idea of pc culture and shit and conservative ideology seeps into these. they have an explicit interest in holding the status quou of taking advantage of people and using their power; age is a huge structure to do so. in this society when we struggle why would its existence not be challenged? because rape, ridiculous rships, abusive rships, torture etc is a power move, conservatives rest on it and people who gain power. what about that is appealing? making it gay? well, no. especially because men DO have power.

every fucking thing in BL is a reflection of of patriarchy honestly. i can admit that and i’m not okay with it but it’s consumption. there’s a way to make this decent or entertaining without it being so fucking poorly done. and atp i dont even want to call things bl it’s a tv show just bc it’s for a certain audience doesnt mean anything do better idiots

#i am soooooo #history 4 #history 4: close to you #history 3 #history 3: make our days count

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jacewilliams1 · 5 years

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Jumpseating to Europe… maybe

I was a 900-hour Part 135 DC-3 copilot, working for Kitty Hawk Air Cargo out of Dallas/Fort Worth, based at Willow Run Airport in Ypsilanti, Michigan. It was my first commercial pilot job, and I was in aviation heaven. I’d come over all the way from Ibiza, Spain, where I lived, to build my hours to eventually head back to apply for the Spanish airlines.

Little was I to know then how aviation would absorb my life for the next 26 years, but that is another story, a story about the world of short-, medium-, and long-haul worl-wide flying in everything including the DC-3, Bae ATP, Fokker 50, and Falcon 20, B 737, A 320 and 330, not to mention the VLJ Embraer Phenom 100.

It was winter 1990, and heavy snowstorms blanketed the whole East Coast of the United States. We had just landed N302SF back in Willow Run after a five-day stint flying all over the country, including a shipment to Peterborough, Canada, battling ferocious winter headwinds and night IMC approaches to innumerable slippery, uncontrolled fields to deliver overnight FedEx and UPS packages, and charters carrying car parts for the likes of Ford and GM.

Later that day, sitting around in our rest area with my captain, Mark, and our chief pilot, Tej, shooting the breeze and sipping crappy coffee, Tej told us he had come unannounced from Fort Worth to ferry 302 back to Meacham Field for scheduled maintenance. He told us we had four days off, maybe six days at the most.

That jumpseat is a great way to travel – if you make the flight.

I jumped at the chance to go to Spain, deciding right there on the spot to jumpseat that evening to JFK and then jumpseat with Pan Am or TWA to Madrid. It meant a short visit with my wife and son.

I had not been home for nearly a year. To say my family lived a sacrificial existence was to put it simply. This wasn’t quite as simple as driving across the state of Michigan. But hell, I was young. I packed a small kit and got on a Delta flight out of Detroit Metro to Dayton, Ohio, where I hoped to jumpseat on the first flight to JFK.

Killing time in Dayton while waiting to board the Pan Am flight, I sat talking with a Pan Am 727 first officer, also jumping to New York. We got so involved in our conversation we missed the boarding call over the airport’s PA system.

When I realized suddenly the boarding gate hall was empty, we ran over to the boarding gate and convinced the agent to let us in and barely made it on board. My heart was thumping. Damn! It was close! As we approached New York we had to divert to La Guardia. The stress was unbearable. Tick tock, tick tock. We jumped in a taxi and drove through snow-collapsed New York to JFK.

Heavy snow was falling at JFK. I only had about 20 minutes to make my way through the confusing maze of terminals to reach the Pan Am flight dispatch office, locate the aircraft and crew flying to Madrid and pray for their sympathy to take me.

Short of breath and totally stressed, I reached dispatch and asked for the captain of the flight to Madrid.

“Crew’s already left for the plane, son,” a sympathetic elderly dispatcher informed me. “They’re at gate 141.”

I grabbed my bag, thanked him profusely and ran, trembling with fear I might not find the gate on time.

I ran madly through the hallways, up then down, left then right, back-tracking when I took a wrong turn. If I missed the flight to Madrid, then I might as well turn around and head back to YIP. Finally, I saw the gate. Phew! Boarding had not yet began.

Flashing my company Kitty Hawk ID, the gate agent politely gave me access to the Madrid-bound 747. Those were the days before extreme vetting. I said hi to the flight attendants in the doorway and explained my situation, climbed the stairway to the upper deck and walked forward to the stunning cockpit.

The crew were briefing the flight. I noticed a fourth person beside the two pilots and flight engineer. I waited for a lull and the captain looked back at me.

“Hey fella!” He greeted me, and then continued, as if reading my eyes and mind. “If you’re looking for a jumpseat, sorry, but this is a line check flight. No jumpseaters.” My heart sank.

“But, hang on,” he said. “The guys next to us are going to London. Maybe try them?” He got on the company frequency and got the other captain’s attention.

“Hey Steve, got a jumpseater DC-3 pilot here, needs to get over to Europe. Can I send him over?” A minute passed and I wiped my sweaty brow. The captain broke out in a smile.

“Get your butt over there, kid! He said it’s ok, he’ll let ya tag along.”

He wished me luck. I thanked him, telling him I’d likely need it, and tore down the stairs and out of the plane and raced over to the identical Pan Am 747 destined for London Heathrow. I was so stressed I could hardly speak. All I could think of was getting home. My nerves were shot. The thought of having to go back to YIP, and not using the four days to see my wife and son, was devastating.

Traveling in style – if they let you on.

I reached the cockpit door and stood in silence while the crewmembers briefed the flight. Steve, the captain, was an old geezer with pure white hair and a thin body. The three were huddled in deep conversation. I had to force myself to keep my mouth shut until they finished. I knew better than to disturb them. The tension was overwhelming. If Steve turned me down, I’d have to go back to Michigan. A major blow. No, please no!

There was stony silence. It was now or never. I’d been rehearsing my opening speech since leaving Metro, but I went blank. I felt instant panic. They stared at me, waiting. I just had to talk my way to London. What happened next still astounds me.

“Afternoon, ladies.” I blurted out. What the hell did I just say? My heart fell to my feet. Why in the world did it occur to me to use those words? Of all the stupid things I could say.

There was a weird moment while they looked at one another in disbelief. Oh God, could I have screwed myself in a worse way? I’d surely get my butt kicked out of the flight deck and off the plane. Ladies? I was red-faced with embarrassment.

To my utter surprise, the three flight crew broke out in hysterical laughter. I was leaning against the cockpit entryway, feeling a total ass. The captain got out of his seat and came up to me, a big smile on his face.

“Hey kid, just relax,” he said. “Man, what a great line! Haven’t heard something like that in 42 years on the line. Get comfortable, you look like you need a rest! Want a coffee or something?”

What? I could hardly believe my luck! I exhaled a breath of relief. I was going to make it to London after all!

Getting from London Heathrow to Barcelona was my next headache. In Europe they practiced a very different approach to jumpseating, much more complex than in the United States. But I was on my way, and I absorbed the pilots’ every word, every action taking place in the front office of that magnificent 747.

We took off, climbing higher into the winter night for the nine-hour crossing. I must have fallen asleep because when I woke up, we were in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. The flight engineer and co-pilot were snoozing. Steve was flying. He was an inspirational figure. The old geezer, in all respects, reminded me exactly of my old Pan Am Clipper posters depicting a middle-aged, seasoned, blue-eyed pilot, with peppered hair neatly cut beneath his hat with its coveted scrambled eggs on the bill, with Pan Am wings spread proudly across his breast pocket.

Steve carried that look of confidence and professionalism I hoped to achieve someday. I was in awe of the sky god. He ordered coffee and told me he was retiring after the return trip to JFK. He’d flown everything – US Navy fighter pilot, 38-year veteran at Pan Am. He’d had enough of hotels and funky time zones, claiming that at his age, the challenge and fun were basically gone. He was looking forward to retirement. Said it’d be at least a year before he ever left his ranch outside Dallas.

But boy, he loved the DC-3. I told him all about my Part 135 cargo-pilot lifestyle as a bonafide freight dog, and how much I missed my family. We shared story after story until overhead Ireland we started our descent towards London, still a long way off. The copilot was awake by then and he was a funny New Yorker.

Just another day in London.

London ATC was flooded with in-coming flights. Weather was low, with light drizzle and fog. Steve flew steady, as if driving his pickup on Sunday at the ranch for all the effort he seemed to apply, his grip relaxed on the yoke. The copilot handled the radio and had a bitter exchange with a controller over his strong accent. A deep Scottish accent.

“Yeah, well you guys ought to learn to pronounce English properly. I’m American, and we speak English.” I admit I was embarrassed by the exchange.

“Copied Pan Am XXXX. Guess that sums it up, eh mate?”

Before the copilot could reply, Steve shushed him.

“That’s enough. Not a good time to get into a discussion.”

We were cleared for the ILS. Steve flew precisely on the localizer and glideslope. The rain called for wipers and as they swept back and forth we caught occasional glimpses of gray ground and square buildings. The runway appeared above minimums and Steve planted the jumbo firmly on the wet tarmac. He reversed the engines and we shuddered and swayed as the giant plane decelerated. I looked at Steve. There wasn’t the least sign of effort on his face. He took the tiller wheel and we soon parked. I was in London!

Now, getting to Barcelona and on to Ibiza and my waiting family was ahead, but nothing would stop me!

The post Jumpseating to Europe… maybe appeared first on Air Facts Journal.

from Engineering Blog https://airfactsjournal.com/2019/10/jumpseating-to-europe-maybe/

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projectsolis · 8 years

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Chapter 6: Starlight

- Day 7 of The Wildfire; Year 252 ATP

Barrett ran his fingers over Kelsey’s eyelids, shutting them for good.

“Solis,” he whispered. “Queen and Divinity of Time. Grant strength to us below. With Your embrace give us resolve. We offer faith and devotion to You so that Your love forever gives us life.”

He holstered the gun at his back and stood up. Why couldn’t she have just accepted what he had offered her? He had given her a way to save her husband. All she had to do was say yes. That’s it. She could have been on her way after that.

Well, it was over now. She chose to threaten him. Chose to take the gambit. So he didn’t feel guilty about leaving her out here. That was the consequence. There was just one more thing he needed to do. Kelsey left him with her husband, and Barrett didn’t have supplies. Without a hospital, Clyde would suffer until he passed. Barrett wasn’t going to let that happen. He was pragmatic, not cruel.

He would make it quick.

Barrett looked down at Kelsey and frowned. Did she even think this through? Once she pulled that gun, there was no way things were going to work out. Either he would be dead, or she would. And if somehow they both got through the ordeal alive, nothing would have changed. She wouldn’t have been able to convince him to leave. Maybe she was hoping her death would spur him to altruism as a last resort. If so, she banked on the wrong person. Clyde was going to die alongside his wife.

At least he already had a gun. He could take care of Clyde and then figure out what to do next. He set out for the complex, across the beach and up the knoll. Maybe a change in scenery was in order. The idea had popped into his head the night of the storm. Idle thought really. But it was starting to sound better and better. Nicole would be upset with him for leaving all of the furniture, but she would get over it. He didn’t really care what she thought at the moment anyway.

When Barrett got to his condo, he entered through the back door. Inside was a mess. The furniture had been overturned or thrown around. His obsidian lamp was on the ground in fragments. Kelsey knew what she was looking for when she came in here. It hadn’t been a spur of the moment decision.

He slipped out the already opened front. Crossed the walkway to the second condo and headed upstairs. Found Clyde unresponsive beneath a mountain of spare blankets.

He unholstered the gun.

“It’s easier this way,” Barrett said. He aimed at the heart. “You won’t feel a thing.”

He pulled the hammer back, wrapping his finger around the trigger. He was ready to fire. To put all of this behind him. But a glint in the sunlight caught his eyes. It came from the pommel of the glass dagger sitting on the far nightstand. Barrett lowered the gun and circled the bed for a closer view.

Nicole had made it for Clyde. Poor guy probably thought it was a strange gift. Really wasn’t a gift at all. She had used it to show him her Scar. Assert control over her interrogation. Hard to defy a woman who could make something like this from sand.

He picked up the dagger and took a seat on the bed next to Clyde. So much intricacy in the glass. It was beautiful. Just like the Amaranthine Throne. It had been a long time since he’d seen it.

“Kelsey asked me a question out there,” he said. “‘Don’t you love someone?’”

His fingers ran along the broadside of the blade.

“It’s hard to remember that time, but I did. She was everything to me. She asked me to help make this nation strong, and I did everything that that required. That’s what it means to be an Archangel. Doing what is necessary.”

Barrett sighed, bowing his head.

“We fought so hard to make this world a better place. She had a vision, and I believed in its purity. I still do. She used to tell me that peace only existed in the shadow of order. But Elizabeth’s gone. Dead. It only gets worse now. If Laura could see me, I’d be such a disappointment.”

He paused.

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you all of this. You don’t care what I say. Meeting me was the worst thing that ever happened to you, I’m sure. I should have never let your wife be in a position to threaten me. It was careless.”

His deliberation reminded him of why he had left in the first place. The powerlessness. Silly tricks might have fooled Clyde and Kelsey, but that’s all they were. Tricks. They couldn’t be counted on. Not with the kind of dangers Solis faced.

But Elizabeth was dead, and with Her the Sinclairs. Did that warrant his return? Did he even offer anything? Nicole seemed to think so, but in this case he wasn’t so sure he could trust her judgement. Then there were the others in charge. Derek could go either way. Remy, on the other hand, would have a meltdown. Not that it was a bad thing, but still. He had to be sure this was the right call. That meant weighing everything.

Barrett stood up. The past two years had been nothing but aversion to going back, and it was for a damn good reason. But if everything fell apart, would that shame be even worse? Would he be able to leave the world again knowing that he could have tried to prevent it? He walked to the edge of the bed, placing his hand on the post. He knew the answer Laura would have given him. It should have been his from the start.

If he was going to go through with this, there was no point in killing Clyde. They both needed to go to Fort Sunder. It’d be nothing to throw him in the passenger seat. Unconscious people were usually good about keeping quiet. And after looking at Clyde’s face, there was very little chance he was going to wake up along the way.

He set the gun on the nightstand but pocketed the dagger. He had better weapons he could take. The dagger was personal. “Alright, Clyde. Maybe your wife saved your life after all.”

Before they could head out, Barrett had to get some things. He’d leave Clyde until it was time to go. No use lugging a body around. He descended the stairs and crossed over to his own condo. Went to the dresser in his bedroom. Scooting it towards the bathroom door, he gave himself access to a section of carpet that he had cut when he moved in. He pulled it back to reveal a loose, wooden plank.

This was where Barrett kept his rainy-day cache. In the crawlspace was a glass box endued with amethyst-coloring. It had been a gift from another Archangel a long time ago. It was large enough and sturdy enough to hold some very useful things. But what made it truly special was the Scar on the lock. Only the owner of the items within the box could open it. No one else. Of course they could smash the box, but they risked smashing what was inside too.

He pulled it from the crawlspace and grabbed a rucksack from the dresser’s bottom drawer. He dumped the box into it. There was no telling how long he’d be gone, and he wasn’t about to just leave it behind. Too practical. Plus, he wasn’t sure what to expect. Fort Sunder was four phases away, but if he went through the derelict town of Starlight, he could shave it down to three. Maybe. That was if he avoided highwaymen and the like.

The box had first aid, grenades, explosives, nutrition supplements, an account authenticator, and a pistol with an extended magazine. There was also spare ammo in case it was needed.

“That should do it,” he said, slinging it over his shoulder.

One more thing. Their vehicle. It had been a while since he took it out for a spin. Needed to make sure that it still ran. Otherwise, they were going nowhere. Life-changing decisions be damned.

He plodded down the stairs and left the condo behind without bothering to lock it. There was no need. He was taking everything worth something. Well, mostly everything. His possession beneath Lake Sanord would have to stay there.

Through the iron gate, the complex housed two-car garages for each of the condominiums. There was space inside for a workbench, a tool cabinet, and some plastic storage containers. Each of the garages also had a keypad. He lifted the cover. 1912249.

The garage door opened along its tracks.

If Barrett had anything less than a Feronix, he’d have to ignore Starlight altogether and circle it instead. Good thing he had one. Sleek, black paint. All-terrain tires. Bulletproof chassis with kinetic field capabilities. Tinted, shatter-resistant windows. Railgun in the center controlled either manually or via the dashboard console.

Such an embarrassment that it was buried underneath a layer of dust. He ran his fingers along the hood. Disgusting. After brushing the dust off on his cargo pants, he walked to the driver’s side and opened the door.

Barrett hopped in. For two years, the only time he got in the driver’s seat of his Feronix was for maintenance. And now he was about to return to everything he swore off. Nicole was never going to let him live it down. Especially considering how he told her off yesterday.

Well, that was the price he paid. He couldn’t let everything that Laura worked for go to waste. Something just had to remind him of what really mattered. He punched the ignition, and the Feronix awakened.

#Kings & Queens #Project Solis #fiction #writing #stories #sci-fi #science fiction #fantasy #chapter #adventure #action #romance

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