#me forgetting i mostly took the bus home that time

[softgrungeprophet]

i injured my wrist walking like a mile dragging a granny cart full of pumpkins (and milk) 😩 (this is both a wrist i already have problems in cause of a past job + amusingly my non dominant hand)

actually i think this is a combo of me typing way way way too much the past two months + dragging a heavy and unergonomic cart home like that.

regardless of the exact cause, i can say confidently: oww wrist hurty

[urhoneycombwitch]

let's add some yearning and a dash of angst to that polaroid mom ask and imagine:

Eddie's going away, maybe it's first tour or another big opportunity, but as the days count down, the realization of how long he'll be apart from reader grows. And there's a pit in his stomach, a small nagging at the back of his brain that asks, what if you forget? what if you don't remember the way they look in the morning or the sight of them brushing their teeth or the smile on their lips after a good meal? What if you forget what they look like to laugh? Or that wrinkle in their nose when you say something stupid?

So he fills his wallet, his guitar case, his suitcase, his jacket pocket, everywhere he can find with pictures of all the little things. So he won't forget who he left behind at home, who he's doing it for, his muse, his love.

+18 mdni: no pronouns used for r, smut mention

(the other polaroid ask) ur so right about this!!!

the worry creeps in a few weeks before Corroded leaves on their first real tour. it's just for a month, mostly to the surrounding big cities of Indiana, but that time starts to loom long the more time he spends lookin' at you.

he's subtle and silly about it at first, flash of the polaroid camera you got him for his birthday a few years back going off at random times during your days together- you at the sink, up to your elbows in dishwater, soap bubbles catching the light streaming through the window behind your head. a slip of your bare leg on the worn couch, paperback book curled in your hands. you in a diner booth, tongue sticking out at the cameraman over a big stack of pancakes, brows furrowed with light irritation at being photographed so early in the morning.

but as his leave date grows closer Eddie asks to capture more and more intimate moments- which you agree to wholeheartedly, even if it isn't entirely clear why the boy wants to in the first place. the curve of your ass against his threadbare sheets. the slope of your back post-sex, streaks of white drying tacky on your skin. your jaw in his hand, cheeks squished in his grip, tongue pink and open and waiting.

the night before tour, he holds you in his arms and finally breaks, tears in rivulets down his face as he muffles his cries into the crown of your head. "I just... I'm so scared t'go without you. been trying to memorize you, all of you, before I leave."

and you stroke soft hands up and down his back, soothing as best you can- "it's only four weeks, Eds. not a lifetime. 'm I so easily forgettable?"

you meant it as a light joke but he pulls you in harder, a hint of desperation- "no. no, sweetheart. you're unforgettable. I just wish you could come with me, and this is the only way... I thought, if I had pictures, at least it'd be like you really were with me."

you quiet him with a kiss, plush lips salty with tears, and pull back to whisper, "I'm gonna be here when you get back- you know that, right? m'not going anywhere. take all the pictures you want."

he takes just one more, the next morning: you wrapped up in a scarf at the bus station, one hand held up in a wave goodbye, eyes a bit misty but sparkling all the same 'cuz you were lookin' at your boy- him- as he took it. he keeps this one in his wallet, thumb smoothing over the square of memory even as the bus lurches along to widen the distance between you both.

[submariini]

Thee Antwerp Gig Overview (by #5)

me and @jeevm arrived around 7:50am at the gig, numbers 4 and 5 bc belgians simply are not a queuing people. not much happened beside chaotic uno and trix doing a short interview with us seven? i think at that point i forget

the bus arrived a little before ten am, and we were allowed to sit inside at that point so we just all went outside again and just stood there for a whole ass three hours being clowns.

jaakko, jukka and jesse walked by a few times entirely undisturbed bc belgians also do not talk ever. (and dutch ppl ig). respectful times.

eventually, at around one, Häärijä got off the bus (mostly as a distraction for K going the other way). This man came by like proper we thought he was gonna just walk by, but he waved and then decided to ignore everyone and beeline straight into my direction for a hug? hello? unsure how he still knows what i look like (was not in the yellow tshirt yet bc cold and he hasnt seen me since simerock).

K and Jesse came by as well -- please note at this point there were like goddamn 40 people there. Nothing like the Munich papal visit scenes at any point.

K just the nicest. Didn't remember me from simerock (fair, it was a factory of photographs) and was like wtf rollo (as per ushe), complimented my boots bc he likes them (they are r+ but usually kids sizes) and i got to be "mean" abt the r+ ticket sale and the bus making it stressful. When he asked it I wanted him to sign anything, I didn't have anything and he just offered to sign my boots? Man did not expect the clown to clown communication that was happening bc he seemed very oh god for real when I agreed.

Someone gave him a necklace and instantly wanted to put it on. The person who gave it couldn't fasten it bc nails/shaking hands so I offered to try and then idk how it got fastened bc christ I shook as well. Not helpful: Mikke both filming that and the boot signing up close 😭

Told Jesse he told me at simerock that I should just join the tour bus and he went "yeah that sounds like something I would say." then scolded me for not having been in Berlin for that 😭

H wandered back and forth a bit, had another weird football chat (rip hazards career) where I was sitting on a little wall, back to the bus still at that point, and he just leaned into me turning around and just held my shoulders the entire time? When I got sweaty and took my hoodie off later he also suddenly grabbed my tshirt when it was riding up I am Feeling Fine.

Was wearing the yellow tshirt w the cross stitch and he made me turn to show Jesse??? And Jesse did the nicest "wait can I touch this?" bc I guess he thought it would be fragile???

People formed a nice selfie line and K just said he's santa claus 🎅

H vanished, then came back out of the bus, and we had a weird mime moment bc I wasnt sure if he was motioning at me to get to him away from the rest. He was and I got fucking free merch??? Like free, not yet available merch. Genuinely what the FUCK. Im making an extra post abt this most likely bc I cannot explain what the hell happened in that moment and the things around it.

When Mikke did the interview w the first queuer, H just stood behind the glass door into the venue and started miming at us. Like not even properly in character? Help.

Gig

Jesus Belgian audiences proving once again we just Are like that. Refusing to goddamn shut up. Every time. Man disallowed to banter by loud belgian screaming. He seemed so touched though jesus christ time to cry

Got roasted for basically slut dropping and shooting my Häärijä sign up in the air before Mic Mac. "yes that mean fucking häärijä" local man fed up w my antics.

Got roasted AGAIN straight after Mic Mac because I was the person he pointed at during the "this is your home now" bit. (promptly decided diving behind the barrier and Face In Hands was the best reply)

Mild bit before the 2nd Cha Cha Cha as I was the front row person he called out for not sitting down. Just yelled that I got bad knees and I'm not sure anyone caught his reply properly 😂

Overall 10/10 excellent gig what the HELL. The belly flop on the balloon, the whole banter before paidaton bc so much of the queue ppl I was with took their shirt off, the way we refused to kept chanting, him trying to eat the bubbles, him talking about Hs dick and the whole balls convo??

Post Gig

Had to pick up merch for a few people, so went with the hope of a third Häärijä hug. He eventually got a bit held up outside of merch by people (lit at the door into the merch room) and I got to just "Sorry it's me again" but he just instantly hug. We talked a little about the gig (did I like it, how I was doing) and like K feeling much better/doing better ft. some dumb crap.

Merch was in fact gotten after I just LOST my friends bc of H.

CANNOT wait for London. and Glasgow but thats with normal people. Like met so many fun people in the queue who are going to be at London jesus christ. Party time.

[imachaoticghost]

Book of Karma : Prologue

Masterlist

Word count : 1, 058 words

Pairings : none, gender fluid! AFAB! gn! reader

TW: Canon typical violence, may be OOC, canon divergence, reader is referred by their "persona" Athena, reader is referred twice as a girl, no beta we die like men, gun mention

The steady stream of people flowed, some walking quietly, some hurrying, some standing, and all going about their day, oblivious to anything else. Oblivious to the sniper watching them, to the rifle pointed at their heads. It made me chuckle, how unaware they were of their surroundings. With a sigh I stood and put the rifle in its case, opening the roof door and sliding down the stairs’ railing. After all I was bound to be nothing but a child they said. In my previous 17 years of life I had never had fun; it was my time to catch up on that. I was set on making the most of my new found freedom. I wasn’t about to let anyone tell me what to do.

But once I reached the end of the spiral stairs my giddiness faded to be replaced by a simple stern expression. I pulled my hood over my face and fixed my long wig underneath it, thinking about how I would soon have to move again. I was always either running from The Program or the authorities. I found it to be such a shame; Amsterdam was quite the beautiful city.

I was walking calmly when something, or rather someone, caught my eye. A tall blonde man had just walked past me. To anyone else it would’ve seemed completely normal, nothing about him stood out to people. But to me he was a nightmare, a tall, handsome, dangerous nightmare. To me he meant that the Program had already caught up to me, a lot sooner than I thought. I may not be good at remembering people, but I had made sure to never forget their faces.

The gears started turning in my head as I started making a plan, if I ran now I would look suspicious. I hoped he hadn’t actually noticed me, but mostly that he was here for another mission than catching me. So I kept walking towards my current safe house.

On my rush home I ended up hitting what I thought was a wall in the middle of the street but ended up being just a muscular man. When I looked up to apologize I noticed the bucket hat and the kind smile, but also the dog tags hanging from his neck. And when I looked back down I noticed the gun on his hip and military stance, confirming my suspicions. I quickly marked him as a threat in my mind: Bucket hat man: Level two threat.

After finally apologizing I looked back at my feet and kept walking towards the safe house. I finally reached it and slammed the door open, throwing my rifle and bag on the floor and taking a deep breath. I then rushed to open my laptop and buy a ticket to Berlin, picking one of my fake ID’s. If I wanted to move, I had to move quickly. I grabbed my bag and threw my clothes and food in it.

Once the ticket was downloaded I snapped my laptop closed, took another deep breath, slid one of my guns in the inside of my waistband, put my laptop in my bad, grabbed it all and left silently, leaving an empty house in which, seemingly, no one ever lived in.

The team sat in front of Laswell, all with different levels of attention but at least some. “Your mission is to retrieve The Reaper alive before-” She checked the file and grimaced, a gender fluid shape shifting (AN: we all know we’re shape shifters) target was the last thing they needed, with them already being an elite spy it made the task more difficult. “…they…fall on enemy hands, in this case Russian. Our Intel says they’ve been spotted in a plane to Berlin; let’s hope they’re planning on staying there. It also says that they move every four days, so you need to be quick. As far as we’re aware they have stayed always in European and Asian continent.”

She threw the file on the table, sliding it towards the Captain. “Name: Unknown, presumed: Athena Noctet, Age: Unknown, Gender: Fluid, Sex: Female, She’s an administrative ghost. The only thing we have about them is a presumed name, but even that changes every now and then. They’re a headache, and you have the honour of trying to catch them. Alive.” She insisted on that point. They needed the Reaper alive no matter what.

When he opened the file he was amused by the amount of emptiness in it. There was no image and a hell lot of unknowns. He was also amused by the amount of censure on the translated Russian document. They talked about birth and modifications but any detail on it was blacked out. He flipped more papers on random information until he noticed an envelope of pictures. He emptied it on the table for his team to see and immediately recognized the face of the girl he bumped with in Amsterdam, when he was following the blonde Huntsman.

“They look young” He noticed.

“Don’t let their appearance fool you. They might be young but I can assure you their mind is well beyond their age.” She warned.

He continued flipping through the pictures, they were mostly security footage or drone pictures and their face was generally covered. Apart from a signature amused smile always plastered in their expression. In one they were sitting in a café in Paris, a cap over their eyes. In another one, still in the same place, they were raising their drink towards the camera in a sort of mocking greeting.

Two other pictures caught his eye. One where they were at a party, luxurious and revealing dress on and hands all over an older man’s body .One of her hands was deep in the man’s pocket and in the next image they stood proudly, waving the wallet they had taken to the camera. The second one was the only one where they were dressed in an expensive suit, hair cut short, makeup accentuating their masculine features but still the same sharp cat eyeliner. If Price didn’t know better he would think that this picture had no reason to be there with the others, but the glint in their eyes and the smile they wore only belonged to them. Their fluidity was bound to be a problem.  

[thephooka]

Spent a bus ride yesterday reading a 1997 book by Gary Martin called The Art of Comic Book Inking that someone recced in the Cartoonist Co-Op server. I'm not the target audience for it (it's geared towards traditional inkers working in the print comics industry and is more for b&w comics imo) but it's an...interesting look into how the industry was back then. And by interesting, I mean bleak as fuck!

More below:

So I got curious and tried to find what the page rates for being an inker are like now, and had a look at this list of rates from Comic Book Resource, which are all self-reported by industry professionals.*

You'll notice 'inker' isn't even its own category here. The closest one is 'line artist' which is both pencils and inks, which for the sake of argument let's say is twice the amount of work as inking by itself. (It's not, pencils are harder, don't at me.) I took the average of rates from 2020-2022 for line artists and got $227/page, for both pencils and inks.

The very lowest rate of $100/pg in 1997 for JUST inking would be $190 today. If line artists do twice the work (again, an underestimate) by doing pencils too, that ought to translate to $380/page at the lowest end today. It doesn't somehow! Huh. Have a look through that rate list and you'll see rates even lower than $100/page in today's money (mostly from the usual suspects.)

Here's some more fun math:

Forget the $28k number above--he's including covers in this number, which pay differently. Say you do 22pgs/month at $100/page--that's $26,400 (1997)/$50,282 (today). Subtract a third for taxes** and your take-home amount would be $33,522 in today's money, which works out to a wage of $16/hr.***

At the high end of Martin's numbers, let's say 44 pages a month at $150/page for a total of $79,200, or $52,800 after taxes, and an hourly rate of $25/hr. Adjusted for inflation, that's $150,845 gross/$100,563 net/$48 hourly.

Average these numbers together, and the rates in today's money would be $67,042 net/$32 hourly.

Assuming line artists do twice the work, these numbers ought to be doubled, at $120k/yr or $64/hr.

But by the actual numbers we have, if a line artist works that same amount at the average rate of $227/page, that works out to $59,928 before taxes, $40,132 after, and an hourly wage of $19.

The kicker: the living wage in my metro area (same one Gary Martin lived in when he published this book, incidentally) is $21/hr, assuming no kids. Lol.

This is also assuming you can pencil AND ink at least 22 pages a month every month sustainably without destroying yourself, which is an EXTREMELY generous assumption. Also, no one gets health insurance working in comics, so take that into account with this shoulder-destroying pace.

I'm sure I'm mostly preaching to the choir here, and none of this information is really a surprise to me--oh comics is also a bad industry that doesn't page a living wage? shocker!--but it's interesting**** to actually be able to run the numbers on it to see how much, exactly, rates have stagnated. A lot, as it turns out!

Anyway, here's a little look into how comics pays, in case you're unfamiliar. It pays bad.

*this isn't even including companies like Webtoons and Tapas, who are fairly notorious at this point for underpaying and overworking creators. This is largely print publishing.

**the self-employment tax rate in the US is something like 15.1% and has been since at least 1990 but advice is usually to pay a third in quarterly taxes--easier to overpay and get it back at tax time than underpay and owe.

***based on 40hrs/wk, and I'm showing this number bc I think more people understand hourly wages than rates. I wouldn't include the amount for taxes in this bc if you're working an hourly wage you're probably not self-employed.

****LOUD SCREAMING

[wendymooprincess]

Solar Punk rundown

I really am excited about the idea of Solar Punk. I thought I would list a couple of things that I have done in my life that I believe fills the aesthetic:

I am part of a local makerspace and we share tools, knowledge, food, etc.

Because of being a member of this makerspace, I am able to use materials that are donated or scraps. One of the projects that I keep coming back to is crocheting a scrap blanket from leftover yarn.

I run a repair cafe. I haven't gotten many people to participate yet, but this has allowed me to mend my clothes and fix other things (I repaired a bread box that I purchased from the thrift store this past month, for example).

I am also apart of a local knitting group. Not is it only great in gaining knowledge from an older generation, but we give each other items all the time. I recently took some old curtains off of my window and I wanted them gone. A participant of the knitting group took them and plan on making a skirt with them. On that same day, another person gave me her red yarn that she didn't want anymore. I also got some peach jam from a lady there. She used my peaches from my peach tree to make it.

One of my favorite activities is shopping at a thrift store. I have to be careful not to overspend, but I find so many good finds. On one such trip, I bought a barely used instantpot for $30.

I think that is mostly it. There are many Solar Punk activities that I would like to add to my list over time:

I have a problem with food waste. I buy something from the store, forget about it, and then it gets tossed. I think the solution to this is to learn how to do meal planning (easier said than done). Also, do even more composting (I already have a worm bin, but the worms are slow eaters).

I would like to reduce my reliance on my car to get to places. When I was younger, I did not have a car to drive, so I rode my bike and took the bus all the time to get to work. I wouldn't have an issue taking the bus, it just takes more time management. I am happy that we have public transportation, but it could be better. As for bike riding, it has become a very dangerous activity around my area. There are so many tall trucks now and people getting hit all the time. It makes me nervous. Not sure what I could do.

Since I have a backyard now, I would like to start growing more food at home. I am more interested in growing perennials than anything else. I know they take a long time to grow before any produce is made, but I like the idea of doing the planting once and then relax.

For the rest of the groceries, take a trip more often to the local farmer's market. There is one just down the road from me. I don't know why I have not gone there yet.

So that is my list of Solar Punk items. What do you do to be more Solar Punk? Do you have any advice for me? I would like to follow more Solar Punk blogs, so let me know of any.

[enbyleighlines]

Damn I had a long, rough weekend.

(exasperated ramblings under the cut)

Actually, it started before the weekend.

I recently switched insurances because I now make too much for medicaid, a process that took several months because why not?

But finally I had insurance and I could go see my doctor, yay me!

They upped my dosage of zoloft, because I’ve been super irritable lately and I think it’s mostly burnout from work, but it had been a long time since my dosage had been adjusted, so I thought it probably wouldn’t hurt.

I start taking a higher dosage, work still sucks, but I feel a bit better, so yay.

Then a few days later, I get a letter from my insurance saying that they will not pay for my zoloft, because it’s not on their list, and I will have to find a different anti-anxiety medication.

My doctors receive a similar letter and message me, asking me to schedule a time for another apt so that we can work on that.

Fuck that, I do not want to go through the emotional turmoil of trying a different anti-anxiety med. It took a long time for me to find one that works for me, and I don’t want to go thru that process again, esp with all the stressors currently in my life.

So I tell them, pls just let me stay on this for now, I will pay out of pocket, I don’t have the time or energy for this at this moment.

Flash forward, and it’s time for me to get a refill of zoloft. I’ve already been paying for it out of pocket for those months I didn’t have health insurance, so I knew it was gonna be costly, but I think it’s worth it. I ask my doctors for a refill, as per usual.

That was on Thursday.

Unfortunately, due to my adhd brain, I forget to go grab my prescription from the pharmacy. But that’s okay. I can go one day without zoloft. I’ve done it before.

But by the end of Friday, I knew I needed to pick up my prescription. I don’t want to go two days without zoloft, or else I start to feel funky: brain zaps, headache, nausea, etc. And of course there’s the anxiety and depression coming back, stronger than ever.

So I remember to go to the pharmacy on Friday afternoon, after work.

Except… they don’t have my prescription.

I call the on-call doctor, and ask them what happened to my zoloft.

They say they sent it to hannahfords.

I’m at cvs.

I haven’t used the pharmacy at hannahfords in the past 4 years, because I moved, and now cvs is closer.

Weird, but fine.

I could go to hannahfords, but I would have to take the bus, and it’s raining super hard, and I don’t want to walk from the bus stop to hannahfords in the pouring rain.

I ask cvs if they can transfer my prescription. They say sure but not right now. We can do it tomorrow.

Alright, well that’s fine. I can pick up my meds in the morning, and then I will still have only skipped one day. No biggie. Feeling relieved, I head on home.

The next morning, I return to cvs.

They say it’s too early, they just opened. They can transfer my prescription later in the day. They will call me when it’s done.

Alright. So it looks like I might be skipping another day of my meds. It sucks, but okay.

The hours go by. I don’t get a call. I focus on drawing and watching anime, and I try not to think about it.

The evening finally comes. My head is starting to hurt a little bit.

I get a call.

Good news: cvs successfully transferred the prescription.

Bad news: they are out of stock of my medication and will need to have it shipped in. It may take a couple of days.

I can’t wait two more days.

I have a panic attack.

I calm down. I tell myself I can go to cvs tomorrow and see if they can help. Maybe they have some zoloft in the back? Idk, I just need enough to tide me over until the shipment, and I’m desperate.

I go to cvs. I tell them my predicament. They are sympathetic but their hands are tied. They have no zoloft. They tell me to maybe check another pharmacy. Except it’s Sunday, so the closest pharmacy that’s actually open is…

Hannahfords.

Well, okay. It’s a beautiful day, no rain, so I don’t mind taking the trip.

I get to hannahfords. I say hey can you please transfer my prescription back here so I can have my medicine.

They say, sorry. They’re out of stock, too.

They’re also all out of zoloft???

Except, no. The woman at the desk explains they have plenty of the 100mg tablets in stock.

I say great, I take 2 of those a day, per my doctor’s instructions.

But that’s not what is on my prescription this time.

The prescription my doctor wrote says to take 1 200mg tablet a day. And yes, that amounts to the same, the woman explains, but because your prescription asks for the 200mg tablets, I can’t give you the 100mg ones.

I can order the 200mg tablets for you, she tells me. It will take a couple of days.

Now that’s just infuriating.

I ask her, please, is there any way I can get my zoloft sooner?

She tells me I can call the on-call doctor and have them change the prescription from 1 200mg tablet a day to 2 100mg tablets a day.

So I do.

And finally, finally, on 2pm on Sunday afternoon, I get my medication.

God fucking dammit.

Why was all of that so complicated???

[val-victory]

Meet the Trainer

You can call me Val, i am an Ace Trainer from Unova on my way to become Champ. i can beat some of the Elite-4 but i lack the consistency to beat all of them. (and i am scared of the Champ).

Btw my Partner is Piper @/justyouraveragepoketherapist they are the loveliest Person i know.

Here are my two Teams, featuring the cutest and friendliest little Mons you could possibly meet.

6v6 Team: Glassstorm

Every single Member is immune to Sandstorm which is my Main Strategy with them (bring your Goggles if you wanna fight)

Scizor - "Sense"

My beloved. Even though he lost a Part of his Pincer, he still packs a Bullet Punch. He is emotionally dependent on me and follows me everywhere.

"Torterra - "Cheli"

he is just a sweet little Boy who often forgets that he is no longer a small Turtwig. a real gentle Giant, unless he wants to play.

Magcargo - "Kratik"

She is slow, but she warms my Heart and my Home. Literally, she lives inside of my Cellar and gives off enough Excess Heat to keep my Home at a warm 20 degrees even in the Winter.

Tyranitar - "Dess"

The bringer of the Sandstorm. Do not get on her bad Side, otherwise you will have to sweep the Floor(from all the Sand).

Mawile - "Schkrinkel"

He is cute and knows it, he constantly demands to be pet otherwise he will nibble on you with his small Mouth. But don't worry he might bite you with his Big Maw too.(positive)

Gliscor - "Fledex"

Tried to teach him Flight. didn't work. He's well versed in Literature and Art but because he can't talk he just hangs upside down on the Ceiling. i like his Pincers :3

3v3 Team: "Lightning Polygon Team Star"

Porygon2 - "Bit"

It likes to digitize itself and lives in my Computer, i don't mind since it never corrupts anything. Also i won't evolve it, i am not giving a sweet little thing weird Data from another Dimension.

Vikavolt - "Don"

i honestly think that she is evil. But since she listens to my Commands i don't have to fear for my Life, but sometimes when i hear her flying around... those Wings are the sound of Death. She is larger than a typical Specimen of her Species, the Alolans called her a Totem.

Toxapex - "Quäli"

He is so sweet, i like him a lot and even though his poisonous Stings hurt a lot and for a long Time, i can't be mad at him, he is just trying to hug me. i think it's mostly on me when he attacks me, since i disturbed him in his Aquarium.

//HUGE BITCH ALERT. do not attempt Contact unless comfortable with being Called a Shithead.

mild rules.

if you don't want to be yelled at you have to write in an overly friendly tone, hype up Val's achievements or write something like "genuinely curious". Expect a rude answer otherwise.

Val is not an evil Villain, don't treat her like one. treat Val like a rude Person who just took your Bus Seat.

Pelipper Mail:open

Magic Anons: off(unless you think that your idea is like really good but i will probably delete anyway)

Musharna Mail: open

[koyoba]

Also re: my last post, I just had one of my greatest days out in a long time, uwah....

So I've been visiting various places in Japan with a couple of friends for the past few weeks- We've been to Osaka, Kyoto, and now Kobe. Osaka was pretty neat, but I truly didn't care for Kyoto, and was even starting to feel a bit homesick.

Generally, my group's travel plans have aligned; in that I didn't have many big wishlist items when I came here, so I've mostly tagged along with the sightseeing they've wanted to do. However, typically my style of travel is a bit more freeform, I just want to go to places and see what I see. So, today, my travel party decided to head to somewhere that I really wasn't interested in, so instead I just decided to do a bit of wandering on my own. I saw a sign for a little local park festival, and decided to go because I love little dinky community events, but the bus I was supposed to take had changed routes confusingly, so I was like, what the heck, it's nice weather, I'll walk it.

Along the way to the park, I:

stopped in at three different delicious local bakeries

walked through the first non-touristy shopping arcade of our trip

watched an entire set from a musically-talented vintage American rock cover band headed by an Elvis impersonator who had all the requisite charisma but barely spoke a word of English

took a nice stroll down a river beneath blooming sakura

And then once finally in the park, I walked around the little tiny festival, encountered my first ever public restroom with not even a spot for toilet paper, got to watch some traditional dancing from some cute old ladies, bought a ¥100 coffee from some other cute old ladies, and then took it all back down to the river to have my own little one-man flower viewing.

Then, while I was sitting by the river, some pigeons came along and I started throwing bread to them, when a pair of little girls came by and were delighted, so I gave them some bread to feed the birds too. One of the two had been studying English on her own and was very excited to talk to me, and so between their stumbling English and my stumbling spoken Japanese, we worked out a conversation. The two ended up demanding the rest of one of my breads to feed to the birds, but in exchange, one of the girls unprompted gave me her necklace, the other gave me a cute little bag with some hand towels, and they brought over their little sister to give me a piece of candy 😭 I waited around while they ran back and forth to their parents and up and down the river because they kept coming back to talk, until I had to head home.

It's the sort of interaction that I feel like those girls will probably very soon forget, since random childhood memories fade fast, but I don't think I ever will. Children truly are wonderful, wah

Anyway, it's days like this that make traveling truly worth it 🙏

[ouriran]

Date: September 17, 2023 Time: 2:00 P.M Location: Vancouver Art Gallery, Canada

The bus ride to the Vancouver Art Gallery was mostly spent in silence after the argument with my friend. The tension had nestled itself in between us, spreading its legs comfortably and pushing us further away. We've been friends for decades, which made the sudden cruelty cause whiplash injuries. I could still feel the phantom pains of the whiplash in my neck. Her words kept echoing in my mind as we passed the Lions Gate bridge, "This isn't speed dating, freak. There's people being murdered. This is a protest!"; Each sentence a kick to swing my neck in the opposite direction. Sure, the initial joke, that was born out of my inability talk about subjects that deeply affect me seriously, was distasteful in retrospect. I'd made an off-hand comment along the lines of "I wonder if there'll be a any cute girls at the protest.." accompanied with a second hand embarrassment worthy eyebrow wiggle. But I'm supposed to be the funny guy. I'm supposed to be the comedic relief. Is that what she genuinely thought of me? That I was somehow using Mahsa Amini's murder as a dating opportunity? No, I know that she knew me better than that; That's why I was so angry.

She knew the stakes for me. She knew I hadn't been to Iran in over a decade after coming out as a lesbian. She was there when I denounced my heritage in an attempt to be accepted by the queer community in Vancouver. She knew that Woman Life Freedom was my lifeline to reclaim my own identity and fight for people that are like myself. She'd heard my screams of grief after my father had accused me of the same thing at the age of 15. The second I made the connection between my dad's and friend's words, my head was flooded with the memories of that night. He was standing at the foot of the stairs when he threatened, "I'll take you back to Iran if your grades continue to slip. If you're going to take Canada for granted, we're all going back. Your mom and I's lives were beautiful before we moved here as a sacrifice for you and you broth-". "You can't do that. I'm gay, dad. Please don't do that, they'll kill me. I'll do better." I sobbed; I was scared. That was the first time I told him. He snickered the way he always does when he thinks he's about to say something cruel and clever, "Is that so? You don't wanna go back home because you don't have any girls to fuck?" he laughed. I threw a chair at the wall, but I'm not sure why. I was only 15. I hadn't even had my first kiss. I know it wasn't a fair comparison for my friend, but I couldn't help it. The two sentences were mirroring each other in my head, telling the same story through parallel miming, only decades apart. I wanted to yell at her, I wanted to grab her shoulders and violently shake her until she understood. There was no time for that though.

The bus had arrived in front of the art gallery. Neither of us could take the second step once we took the first one to get off the bus. The square in front of the gallery was packed with a sea of Iranian people. I immediately felt like everyone's eyes on me, which is a tiny bit narcissistic in retrospect. I just felt like they could tell. They could tell that I had infiltrated into their space. I could only imagine what they would say if they found out; Probably something along the lines of "Thank you for coming, but we are advocating for women. The inclusion of non-heterosexual identities in our cause will prove to the Islamic Regime that we're protesting for sexual promiscuity". I didn't want the cause of Woman Life Freedom to be derailed, I didn't want people to forget about Mahsa. Sure, I was a woman for all intents and purposes in this context, but this movement wasn't for queer women. It was for women. I just couldn't stop thinking about Ali Fazeli Monfared. He was murdered for loving a man, his name deserved to be chanted as well. I wanted to chant his name until my vocal chords gave in.

I was once again yanked violently out of my thoughts; this time by a poster board being shoved against my chest. I wasn't planning on holding a sign, I didn't want to draw any attention to myself. It was my friend again, who was sporting a mischievous yet proud smile this time around. I opened my mouth to question her before I caught a glimpse of what the sign had written on it. She did understand. She did understand the reason I was doing this was "FOR ALL THE GAY MEN + WOMEN THAT NEVER GOT TO FREELY LOVE", the sign read in all capital letters. As much as I was in awe of my friend and the sign, I was equally confused. "How did you write this so quickly? Where did you get a poster board from?" I questioned her eagerly.

"No, idiot, I didn't make a protest poster in the thirty seconds that you were dissociating. I asked someone if I could hold it and they said yes!"

Her response was better than any other one I could've imagined because I knew what this meant; I belong here too. This wasn't just an attempt by my friend to help me feel better.That's when I decided to look around; To really look around at my people. That's when I saw them; The giant pride flags held up all across the square. I think I would've burst into tears if it weren't for the shock.

I held the sign as high as my height of 5 foot nothing would allow. All the judgements, disappointments, scares, were all leading up to me holding this sign, that I hadn't written, in front of the Vancouver Art Gallery. I was doing this for Mahsa, I was was holding the sign for Nika, I was holding the sign for Alireza, I was holding the sign for you and for me.

The sign that I held, and continued to hold every Saturday at 2 p.m for an entire year, sits idly on my record player now. It hurts when I looked at it because we lost the battle. They killed another teenage girl after we gave up on protesting, that's why I keep the sign visible at all times as a reminder of who I'm doing this For all the gay men and women that never got to freely love.

[geemosses]

The Chef, part 1

I hate it when the workers at a restaurant start to recognize me. Hostess, cashier, waiter, chef, doesn’t matter. As soon as someone at the restaurant starts calling me by name or worse, remembering my order, I bolt, and I find another place.

I think it makes me feel self-conscious. Like yeah, I get it. I eat here all the time. I don’t cook for myself. I eat out way too much. I must be terrible with money because why would anyone spend all that money for a sandwich at the local deli when they could just make one themselves for a fraction of the price?

Well because I’m a terrible cook, that’s why. I don’t know what it is, but no matter how many recipes I find on Google, the deli sandwich always tastes better. Also, I work a lot. I don’t have time to cook for myself even if I wanted to. So, stop judging me.

Anyway, I don’t go to the local deli anymore. The last time I went there, the girl who works the register started ringing up my order the second she saw me walk in the door.

“$12.99,” she said with a smile as I walked up. I did my best to chuckle and muster up an “Oh gee, you caught me,” kind of smile while handing her my credit card. And then I never went back.

It’s been a month since that fateful day. I’ve been surviving mostly on microwavable meals, although sometimes when I’m feeling particularly adventurous, I’ll pick up one those pre-made meal kits that I can just pop in the oven for 15 minutes.

But damn do I miss those sandwiches. The way the bread had just the right amount of crunch as you take that first bite only to have that rough shell give way to a soft and fluffy interior. The way the sauce, a perfect balance between sweet and spicy, coated my tongue and carried those delicious flavors to every corner of my mouth. And the chicken! Oh, the chicken. Some people think chicken is boring. Those people haven’t tried this chicken. It’s coated in spices that I couldn’t even begin to identify but it’s still somehow in perfect harmony with the sauce. And most importantly, it’s never dry!

Surely a month is enough time for a cashier to forget about a customer… right?

So, a month and a day after I had abandoned my favorite deli, I decided I’d risk it and go back. I packed up my work laptop at 6pm on the dot, like I always did, and hopped on the next bus for the 30-minute ride home. The deli was right around the corner from my apartment, so I dropped off my backpack and walked over. My steps slowed a bit as I approached, trying to catch a glimpse through the glass doors of the restaurant. If I could just see if the cashier was the same girl, maybe I could make a last second decision to veer away and continue walking as if I had always been going somewhere else. But the sun at my back was working against me, and all I could see was a bright white glare.

It took a second for my eyes to adjust when I walked inside, but I immediately let out a small sigh of relief when I saw that the cashier was someone totally new. Someone who didn’t know my name and had never taken my order.

The new girl looked up from her phone when she heard the chime of the bell above the door and smiled politely. I weaved my way through the handful of empty tables and chairs towards her. The deli was a popular lunch spot but was almost always empty for dinner, so it was just me and the new girl.

“What can I get you?” she asked.

“One chicken sandwich please. Chips and a soda as well,” I said when I reached her.

“Alright, that will be $12.99 please.”

I paid and grabbed a bag of Doritos and a Coke, then chose a table by the window to sit and wait. The new girl just went back to her phone, not even pretending like she wanted to politely make small talk. Perfect.

Outside, a pair of small dogs had started playing on the sidewalk as their owners had a conversation. They were adorable, jumping on top of each other, wrestling for a few seconds before breaking away from each other to reset. Then they’d start all over again. I was so lost watching them play that I didn’t hear the chef walk up to my table.

“Here’s your sandwich,” he said in a deep but soft voice.

“Oh, uh, thank you…” my voice trailed off as I turned to look at the man holding my order. The man was gorgeous. He was a few inches taller than me and was a bit more muscular as well. Not that I was particularly muscular, but I tried to stay fit. On him though, I could see the definition in his arms and shoulders through his white t-shift. His eyes were a striking blue, the kind that you can’t help but stop and stare at, and his black hair only made his eyes feel deeper.

But what really got me was that smile. It was soft and welcoming. It made me feel safe.

How had I never noticed it before?

“What, do I have something on my face or something?” he asked, lightly brushing his forehead. I must have been staring a little bit too long.

“Uh, no, no, sorry, you just surprised me is all,” I said, clearing my throat and looking away to try and hide the obvious burning in my cheeks.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, since you last stopped by,” he replied.

“You remember me?” I asked. I’d never had a conversation with the chef before. I definitely would have remembered that. Most of the time, all I could even see of him was the back of his head over the grey wall that divided the stove and kitchen area from the rest of the restaurant.

“Yeah,” he said with a smile. That smile that made it seem like all was right in the world. “You used to come in several times a week but then suddenly you just stopped coming. I hope everything was ok?”

Most of the time I would have dismissed his question as boring or polite small talk. People don’t really care how you’re doing when they say, ‘how are you doing’. But somehow, his question felt genuine. Maybe it was those eyes, or maybe it was that disarming smile, but in that moment, I was sure that he really wanted to know if I had been ok in the month since I last visited the deli.

“I was ok, yes. I was just trying to cook for myself a little more often. No matter how hard I tried though, nothing quite compares to your sandwich,” I said with an awkward chuckle. I guess technically everything I said was true. No need to mention my semi-anti-social tendencies.

“Thanks for asking.”

“Of course!” he said. “Well, I hope you don’t wait another month before you come visit again.”

“Definitely not.”

He started to turn to walk away but before I even knew what was happening my hand had shot out and lightly grabbed his arm.

“Uh, sorry. What’s your name?” I asked shyly as he turned back.

“It’s Liam,” he said. His smile grew even wider with what felt like true joy. I couldn’t help but smile an actual, real smile in response.

And when I got back to my apartment, I ate the best damn chicken sandwich I’d ever had in my life.

[zeondraws]

Hm I am having thoughts about my bus lore, mainly about why the busses were in this planetary lab to begin with and where their creators came from.

For the humanoids storyline they are usually very important figures from Zeons System, where Ester is the homeplanet (and the planetary labs would orbit nearby), the humanoids created the planetary lab with their advanced knowledge and complex trading routes between different civilisations.

These figures are... well it is hard to explain for me, tho this means I need to find a way to explain them.

They're not really gods or anything, atleast the story doesn't focus on gods, more like individuals that have been granted abilities which they can use to protect the planet Ester and keep traditions that have been carried across generations.

Current humanoids usually protect Ester from invaders, who want to steal something from their planetary labs or try to "take over the universe" for the 638384828 time.

These humanoids are not looking to seek control of everything that exists, they mostly stay within their own home and take care of everyone who resides there.

It is hard to explain what kind of political system they'd have on Ester, because I'm not sure if I can compare it with anything duo to my limited knowledge on this topic. Tho I think there is a government who is more on the social side of things, trying to keep everyone equal or atleast have all voices heard, to avoid any bad events that could occur from capitalistic planets like earth. (They'd probably avoid having a capitalistic system in the first place)

But either way I shall try to explain where these humanoids originated from (hopefully I didn't forget too much I took a small break from writing this to go to the toilet)

The current humanoids were kidnapped from earth, the previous protectors or "chosen" ones from Ester/Zeons System, chose them to continue their legacy.

What kind of legacy? I am currently starting to figure it out, because back then I always daydreamed of these story plots just to randomly escape from reality and imagine powerful beings that could do alot of cool things. Yknow, stuff younger people with ocs think about maybe, I haven't been in any OC or art circles when I was younger. I completely missed out on that chaos. So I am just assuming here

These humanoids contribute to the existence of a very ancient civilisation, which does not exist anymore in their original form, but they live through the new chosen beings and the other living beings that are being protected. But just to clarify, these ancient beings actually don't live inside any beings but they probably exist somewhere in the realms of life and death. But the more ancient the civilisation was from the current ome, the less recognisable it might be. Even the current humanoids have no clue of the first civilisation that started this string of events.

Usually you can tell that they belong to this ancient tree of chosen ones/civilisations by their advanced technology or powers.

For example you'd see a penguin with a weird chameleon like tail (I implimented this because young me used to draw some animals with weird rainbow tails, as a homage to myself I guess? Don't know how to explain it) and this frigging penguin literally builts robots, that assist him and fight against any invaders. And these chosen ones like to keep alot of the natural habitats that exist on their home olanets intact, as they want to properly coexist woth nature.

Another ancient technology are staffs which help them move in space and also move planets. (I still have to flesh this out a bit, tho I can say I am not aiming to be 100% realistic, I want to have fun with this and not break my head trying to write some sci fi story and animate it, I am only one person that can only do so much)

And uuh I think the oldest chosen beings known somewhat looked like wyverns, atleast one of them got chosen to try and protect their solar system and also to keep the chain of new chosen ones. Since this has to continue otherwise they wouldn't be able to continue their existence. Maybe makes not so much sense rn but I'll get there when I have time to work on this part more. These wyverns would choose some other animals that chose other animals.. (komodo dragon > chetah > penguin > humanoid-ish > humanoid > human (crazy ik) > bus (omg))

I think there would be many occasions from long ago where the chosen ones would've been life that didn't occur organically, and were mostly robots or other beings. These beings would help boost the technological advancement of this chain and help the next organic ones be able to thrive and also don't need to harm the natural world around them too much... but we'll further discuss this at another point

it is getting late for me so I will write down keywords to write about so that I don't forget, these drafts are more like a "sketch", because they're all very rough thoughts to try and get my thoughts together for this world. it's like the first sketch of a drawing you make

..

Scientists > who study the chosen ones to pinpoint their origins and their correlation with nature and why they benefit their surroundings in comparison to other industrialised civilisations

The chosen ones > I obv have to find a better name, these ones protect their home planets and their home system. They often own technology that seems impossible to construct for other beings. And they often have physical powers that they use for protection, some can fly, they also can sing in many different ways, also able to mimic music/sound very well after some training! (This one is very apparent for the recent humanoids, these use sounds and music for communication, through the music you can try and find clues about their past. The music has alot of different undertones we can't hear, the music is a big distraction for invaders)

their powers are limited, some only have certain months where they can use these powers to the fullest and some can use them whenever, but if they use it all in one short moment (to fight off huge invasions) their feathersxhair, skin, eyes and anything else they might have turns pale, white or grey

indicating they are drained of power, and are very very vulnerable, it is often here when invaders try to strike them, so that they can't regenerate their powers and most likely die

The family tree > mostly showcasing who ws chosen and who might be chosen in the future, the current ones can't really see who might be the next one, it is why it took R5 (one of the chosen humanoids) so long to finally do his deed that he had to carry on. He didn't know that it were busses tho

Busses? > Whom of the busses would be it? I was thinking of Edwins daughter that has yet to be developed but she doesn't play a major role in the main story plot, as a matter of fact she won't be born in a long while when events take place!

And a chosen one as previously mentioned doesn't have to be from organic origin, the busses were manmade but were gifted AIs and accidentally were able to spread out on a planet and built a new society that will carry on the legacy and ultimately give this legacy to another civilisation

Also been wondering about the correlation between R5 and Plock, one random thoughtsl was if Plock was R5 and R5 would merely try to make sure that the busses succeed and that he can do his deed

but I am unsure

[aneenasevla]

Devil's Food - Chapter 24

MasterList /Ayami’s Profile /Previous

Chapter 24 - Swordswoman

“I am home!” Ayami announces, taking off her shoes after entering “Akito?”

“Welcome” Akito answers, appearing in the hallway. He had his cell phone in his hand. “Hey, Aya, is it ok if I go to my friend’s house this weekend? It's one of the Kenjutsu boys, you know them…”

“Oh, yes, I know” she was even now practicing together with them at the dojo, twice a week “all right. Take your things and be careful, okay? How do you get there?”

“I'll take the subway…”

“Hmmm” she looks at the time on the wall clock “yeah, I think if you go in at most half an hour, you can arrive at a reasonable time. You may go.”

“And you, are you going to be okay?” he approaches. The truth is that he was kind of nervous about leaving the house after all, but since Ayami insisted that everything was fine now, that nothing else was going to happen, he was trying to get on with life, even without their father there. It was a very complicated situation, and they both needed therapy, but in those two months, only he was getting it. Aya needed friends first, and that was what she was looking for. Friends and Defense Training.

“I'll be fine” she concludes “I don't have any commitments this weekend, and the house also needs cleaning…”

“Okay, Thanks, Aya” he smiles, almost jumping “I'll get my things and let the guys know.”

“Call or text me if you need to, okay? And when you arrive there too, please.”

“Okay,” he smiled tenderly. Other brothers would be annoyed, but Akito had had enough experience to understand the value of it “I’ll warn you, yes. I'll even leave the phone charged.”

“Thank you” she entered the house and started to relax.

…

She watched Akito leave the house, until he disappeared from the street, and took the bus to the station. They might already be safe, but being the only family she had now, the feeling of concern was mutual. She went back inside, mostly when she heard the sound of thunder. A summer storm was approaching.

“Yeah, apparently I’m going to have to hang out the laundry on Sunday,” she mutters to herself, “next step: close the windows and make dinner,” and she stretches out in her baggy shirt and short shorts, now a little baggier than usual because of her slight loss of weight due to the exercises, and proceeds to do what he had said. And since she was home alone and had a good day to eat whatever she wanted, she decided to take the day off to take care of herself too. Do what she liked to do too. She had to stop being workaholic, after all, it was one of the things she'd seen that she did a lot. And tomorrow would be Saturday, so it would be a rest day, as the rain would probably last a while.

 She lifted her feet and began to dance down the hall, as she went through the rooms of the house to close the windows. She could see the raindrops falling, slowly increasing, but she was in no hurry. She was having fun, forgetting a little about concentration…

You have to be alert to your surroundings… that voice echoed, and she stopped, gripping the porthole of the master bedroom window, the last one of the house. She sighed, closing but not quite, she wanted the air passing a little.

Again… he couldn't get out of her head. But she didn't feel scared, or anxious… just extremely irritated. Was there some kind of trauma like that? She didn't know, but if she booked therapy, maybe she'd find out. She was going to see it next week, after business hours. She had already gotten the first part, after all. Kanami was a great friend, and in those days, she had met two other friends of hers too, so they formed a little group. From time to time they would go out to drink or eat something together. She even received an invitation to attend the Obon festival, but she declined. They sure would take their boyfriends, and as far as she knew, she was single, so she didn't want to be the only one alone. She would celebrate at home, with her brother, or another acquaintance.

She just knew that she didn’t want to be alone. She would find a way.

She sighed. Why is creating friendship so complicated? It shouldn't be.

She left the window and went to take care of dinner. An omelet with vegetables and cheese would do the trick. She took the ingredients and got to work.

She broke the eggs and scrambled, to organize the dough, and was about to fry it when she remembered that she needed to organize the vegetables. She turned off the fire and went to work on it.

You are incredibly inattentive… his voice said in her mind. She snorts.

“I'm not. I'm normal, I was just in the midst of… monsters” he murmurs as he carefully cuts the vegetables “you really are so special that you think you're superior… but you're nothing but assholes… especially…” him.

Yes, indeed, she definitely needed to go to therapy. Assholes were always the hardest to forget…especially when she had to put up with him so much of the time. Even more so when he was a moody, irritating, spoiled, and pretentious guy… and fun, chaotic, incredibly smart, despite his malice, and there was no denying that he was also full of surprises, and curious… he just needed to know what the hell was a limit...

She shivered as she realized what she was doing and shook her head “Uuuugh, Ayami, don't” she dropped the knife and sighed “Not that again.”

Then like a rubber band, her ultra-focused mind remembered she was going to the wrong place and quickly came back, remembering the day it all went down the drain. That's it, focus. In this you need to keep your head.

Ayami goes back to work, now with more rhythm, and with the vegetables properly mixed in the egg and seasoning mixture, she turned on the fire to actually fry the omelet.

He didn't deserve anything good. She would always remember him as an idiot who one day was holding her hand, and the next, spitting on her with those absurd words. The moment her hand found his face was extremely cathartic, despite being an extremely dangerous movement. But Fusui and Youko were there, and they were willing to help her...

Weren't they? Or were they so shocked they wouldn't react if he tried to fight back? She shivered. The thing could have escalated into something very bad… she knew the abyss, so much so that she almost fell into it. Now she was staring at it from afar. Yes, her family's problem was resolved, and she was now at peace with the Kure…but they wouldn't blame her if she didn't react well if he showed up.

She removed the baked omelet from the heat and placed it on the plate, arranging some rice in the bowl, arranging the table. She was hesitant not to arrange for two, on the other side. She always organized everything, and remembered the other two residents of the house. It was hard to remember that they now only had two residents, instead of three. She sighed, and arranged for one more, just out of habit. She wasn't going to get anything dirty, so she wouldn't need to take it off the table later. She sat up, slightly more satisfied.

She clasped her hands in thanks for the food when she heard the bell ring. The rain was falling hard outside. She blew out a breath through her nose, standing up and heading for the door. The bell rang again.

“Oh, come on, calm down!” she complains. Whoever it was, they must have been in a hurry because of the rain. She looks at the door, and concluded she would have to install a peephole in it someday, for sure. She opened the door “May I hel-?”

There was no one at the door. And the rain was pouring down cats and dogs. She looked a little further ahead, taking advantage of the small roof at the entrance, and looked at the street. No one at all.

Huh.

She sighed. How could anyone have the audacity to pull this kind of prank in the middle of a summer storm? The person could have been struck by lightning, or something like that! She shook her head and walked back into the house, closing the door and locking it… the floor was even wet from her feet…

But her feet were dry, in her bare feet… strange. She turned to go back to her dinner when she almost bumped into something, and stopped the moment she realized it and looked up.

And her eyes widened at the sight.

“Hey”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRGHHH!!” In reflex, she threw one of the shoes from the closet behind her, and hit him square in the face. And she didn't stand still, of course she ran away, she wouldn’t stay even if they paid her. 

It was him. It was the devil himself. What would he be…?

“Oy! Hey! Is this how you welcome people to your house?!” he complains, that husky voice that haunted her mind, now vivid and real in her ears.

“Go away! Get out of me, die, Devil!” She ran into the house, to her room. Where the hell was her Katana? He had left her somewhere...

“Hey, wait a minute, Mou-eh, Ayami!” she heard his call, but she didn't care. She wouldn't fall for that again. That toxic relationship was over!

“Go away! I have nothing to deal with you!” She went into her room, closed the door and locked it. Fuck dinner, she wasn't coming down again. She felt her body shake.

What the hell was he doing there? Would he by any chance come to kill her? Torture her? Humiliate her some more by telling her what a petty thing she was?!

She took a deep breath, and looked for her weapon, it was somewhere, where?! Damn, goddamn brain, work!

She remembered that she had left it at the head of the bed, and went immediately to get it. She had promised herself that she would avoid using it, both for her own good and for everyone around her, but now the case was different. This was not someone you wanted well.

She closed her eyes, catching her breath as she slowly unsheathed her sword. She felt the weight of the purple steel in her hand, and tried to calm herself. That was her weapon, her deadly arm, her extension… she faced the door, and braced herself for a possible break-in. He was strong enough for that. She would meticulously count all the expenses to charge those bastards.

Depredation of property, home invasion, moral harassment, perhaps physical… the list just kept getting longer. She would move worlds and funds to sue and arrest this man. It would be the end of him.

He might be the Devil, but she was a Lawyer.

Ayami waited in front of the door, and nothing. Silence. Just the rain outside and the thunder. She felt her spine prickling. Behind you.

Dammit, the window, why did she have to forget about the window?! It was so obvious...

She turned her sword, barely making a sound, and she tensed when she saw him, the thunder shaking the world outside. He was soaked from head to toe, and when he faced her, in the dark, his silver eyes reflected the dim light, just like a cat or some night creature. This frightened her enough for her to activate the defensive instinct.

“Ayami…-”

“Don't come any closer!” She pointed the sword at him, he retreated a stel “what did you come here to do, Kure Raian? Is it not enough what you did two months ago? Not enough for you? Did you come to finish the job and kill me for good?”

“If I wanted to kill you, you would have died the moment you opened the door” he tries to smile, the smile flashing in the dark, she gasped, but her hands firm on the Katana “But I knew it would be something like this…” he approached a step, and she brought the Katana toward his neck. He recoiled the step he took, suddenly well aware of the blade.

“Then go away,” she warned, “or I'll be forced to defend myself.”

“Defend?” he chuckled “defend from what?”

“Don't fool me, Devil, it's from you… don't come here, invade my house, just to say you're not attacking me. I'm not stupid, and neither are you. So please go away, and leave me alone.”

“Not until I sort out what I have pending,” he says firmly.

“Then go to hell!” She advances, and he widens his eyes, dodging at the last second of the thrust, after the side cut, making agile jumps back. He was fast, even for someone his size.

“Fuck, what's this, woman, calm down!”  he said, while dodging two more blows “I come in peace to talk and that's what I get?”

“I don’t. Want. To talk!” She said with each blow, her eyes in fury “GO, AWAY!”

…

Raian could dodge, he could see her movements, even in the dark, he was made for that, after all. He came prepared to fight, as usual, but the problem was, he wasn't prepared for her to be wielding a real Katana and hadn't even studied the terrain first. He only realized his mistake, however, when he felt his back hit a wall, and her blade was unstoppable. The rip she gave his shirt drew a trickle of blood from his chest.

He widened his eyes at the light blow.

Holy crap.

It only grazed, but she wasn't kidding.

He caught the blade in time with his boot before it sliced him cleanly from bottom to top on the leg and shoved it hard, to not have his leg torn apart. He felt the razor-sharp blade cut something on his foot, but he was thankful it wasn't meat.

“Oh, so that's it” he said as she stood up “you really want to kill me.”

“I'm not afraid to use my sword” she assumed a fight position, her arms were firm.

“Great” he holds the hem of his own sword “Because I brought mine too.”

Her eyes widened when she finally saw what he had brought. Another Katana, a Yamanoito just like hers, almost like a twin. Maybe if he showed it in a way that was harmless, he could…

“I knew…” Her eyes glazed over in the Frenzy “I knew I couldn't trust you…” and she assumed a pose. The sword held high, and the center of gravity concentrated at the back of her body.

Yeeaaaaaa… That had the wrong effect. Oh Fuck. He should have taken the sword from his belt with the scabbard instead of drawing it. She thought she had no choice but to fight. 

“We'll see” he assumes a fighting pose too. He hadn't wielded a real sword against a real swordswoman in a long time, but he would have to make do with what he had.

She attacked first, and if he hadn't been a Kure, he would have been cut in half across the shoulder, but he managed to defend himself with the weapon. The two Katanas sparkled as they met. Her eyes had lost their fire, turned to hot steel. Ayami no longer was answering for herself.

It was your fault for getting her into this, now bear it, Raian.

She manages to free both swords from the encounter and then prepares for another attack, and another, and another, all of them meeting with sparks and screeching swords. Up, down, left, up… one from the bottom up as her hair flew and her feet moved, nimble. She danced between moves with a grace he thought only existed in movies. Focused, in a trance.

Wonderful.

Like a prey that finally resolved to attack.

As much as Raian didn't really want to fight her, part of him was incredibly fascinated by the resourcefulness, and another part of him was completely aroused by the fight, a competitive and very strong part of him, so he couldn't help but smile.

“Hahahaaha” he laughed, while blocking another blow “I can see you now, Ayami… you really hide things from me…”

She didn't answer, the Frenzy wasn't meant to chit-chat. He barely dodged another blow. He knew that if he didn't stop her, he would be forced to attack to defend himself, and he could injure her, so it wouldn't be good.

“Ayami” he called “Ayami, stop, I-”

“Raaagh!” She interrupted him with a scream. Yeah, talking would be pointless. He has to move forward. That or there would be no end, not until she passed out from exhaustion. Also, in this state, Raian wouldn't be able to advance, she didn't give a break.

He had an idea, he didn't like it at all, but it was what he had. He growled in anger.

“Aaaargh Fuck it!” He dropped his sword, blocking a blow to the head with his arms. She wanted to hit him, so hit him!

But the blow did not come. He only heard the sound of his Katana hitting the floor with a metallic clang, and nothing else. And her breath was in gasps.

Would he be dead? He peeked through a gap between his arms. She had the blade millimeters from his skin, trembling. He looked into her face.

Face scrunched up in anger, teeth clenched in disgust…

But eyes brimming with tears.

“Why…?” She growled, her voice stammering “Why can't I…?” She struggled to bring the blade down, and almost succeeded, touching the skin of his arm and scratching, a trickle of blood pouring down from the cut. But it didn't go beyond that. “What did you do to me… Raian?! What spell is this?! What did you do?!”

“I didn't do anything” he takes a step back, away from her, but still in defense “you're the one who stopped.”

“Why did you come here?! Why do you decide to torture me like this?” Her voice chokes more, she starts to breathe with difficulty. Raian stands up, still watching the blade.

“I'm not torturing-”

“TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT!” she screams.

“I CAME TO FUCKIN’ APOLOGIZE!” he yells back.

She widened her eyes, still with her guard up, but pulling the blade away.

“W-what?”

Raian grimaced in agony.

“Don't make me repeat it, woman!” He protests “Holy shit, I walked in through the front door, I even rang the fucking bell, for what?! If I had broken into the house through the window, it would have been all the same!”

“Well, that's what happens when someone humiliates someone in front of everyone, in the middle of breakfast, right after having a good moment, and after two months tries to talk like nothing happened. I won't accept it, now go away.”

“What? No, you'll have to listen to me…” He clenches his fists, starting to advance when she points the sword at him again.

“NO! You who will listen to me now, Kure Raian!” she growls, fierce “You are a man who was put to marry against your will, I know all that... But did you stop to consider my side?” she approaches very slowly “I was taken to your house, as a captive, not your fiancée, I didn't know anything about this marauder until your sister told me, I, being a woman, was extremely terrified. Even more so when they warned me about you and who you were, they talked about you almost as if you were a rapist or torturous monster. I felt like I was being sold to be able to free my family. Every day, I remembered them and stood firm, I didn't want to wed you for me to stab you, or bend your family to my feet, I wanted to survive! Do you know what this is, Raian? What would you do in my place?”

“I…”

“Of course you don't know, you're a psychopath who doesn't have an ounce of empathy for others, that's your biggest flaw. And every day, you had to make it harder, didn't you? With your pranks, your laughter, your cursing… and then you changed tactics, until you finally pretended to be nice to me…” she sobs, trying to hold back tears “and you stabbed me in the back, not me! You, instead of talking to me and the two of us working this out like two adults and leaving this pact in peace, even as friends, you had to summon the fifth-grade kid and make a scene!”

“So tell me… Why now…” she puts her sword to his neck “should I let my guard down, when I was clearly betrayed by you?”

He swallowed hard. Not for the sword, but for what she said. Was he a traitor? When was that? Since when…? His insides began to shake. This clearly wasn't right, and it pissed him off very much.

“I… didn't fake it.” He frowns, gripping the blade of her sword. “I didn't pretend to be nice to you…” he advances, using his strength to push her back and take the sword away from him “at no time I faked anything, Ayami.” He gripped the base of the sword with his other hand, a trickle of blood seeping from flesh torn by the edge. He stared at her, his abismal eyes making her shiver, now afraid of the slow but almost suicidal attack “I just wanted to make you give up, make you run, make you afraid of me. Because no one can stand being close to me. But you had to stay!” Raian grabs the sword and snatches it out of her hands “you had to play the brave, the rational girl, the good angel… you had to be the perfect girl that everyone loves, surrounding yourself with friends, all of them being my family, my allies, to fight against me” he throws his sword aside, shaking his bloody hands at that point “You had to prove yourself valuable, to prove being useful, to show me your strength” She tries to run away but he holds her arms, making her step back until she stumbles and sits on the bed “and… mostly… had to make me desire you like the madman that I am, with those eyes of helpless prey, luring me into a trap” he brings his face close to hers, she trying to pull away, now closing her eyes “You had to make me like you… hadn’t you?”

She stops, her eyes opening and widening, when she hears what he's said “You…? You're not teasing me, are you? Is this serious?”

He chuckles a little, but his smile wasn't malicious. “Why would you think I'd be here hunting you, Mousie?”

She didn't want to believe it… it wasn't possible… was it…?

“I… don't believe you…” the tears were coming back, she approached his face, almost growling, as he widened his eyes “you said the same thing, before turning back on your word… how can I trust that? How do I know you're not leading me into another trap?”

He stared at her, the two silver pupils looking back and forth at hers, practically lit in the darkness of the room, reflecting the light from a street lamp outside.

He sighs, letting his guard down a little.

“Ayami, I was honest that time, as I am being honest now” he says “But I was pissed at what I heard, so…”

“So you made that fuss.” She pouted. 

“Yeeeaaah, anywaaay” He squints his eyes, grunting low, gripping her wrists a little harder. “I wouldn't be here if I didn't want you, Ayami. Understand this at once.”

She stared at him for a moment, still suspicious, but she didn't want to fight anymore, didn't want to ask any more questions…except one.

“Okay… okay, fearsome hunter… now you've got me…” she risks, still afraid, but something else was quickly taking its place, as she looked at him, suddenly shy “what are you going to do with me now?”

He chuckled, seeming to relax his shoulders minimally, and responded with his lips on hers, making her shiver, but in a good way.

Feeling her body soften from both relief and arousal, she simply gave up on resisting.

The real conversation would have to wait. She wanted him there, and now.

Next Chapter Here

[worksinprogress1]

The bus was only going to my hometown, but to me, it may as well have been headed to a hard, cold cell. How was I going to tell everyone what I’d done?

“Something wrong?” came a woman’s voice. Dark as it was and with my head full of thoughts, I hadn’t noticed her approaching the bus stop. It was the purple-haired woman I’d seen sometimes at my gym. I’d wanted to get one last workout done before I left Veilstone, and I was also hoping that if I came back late enough, my mom would be asleep by the time I made it.

“You could say that,” I replied.

She took a long drag on her cigarette and regarded me with piercing eyes. “Feel like telling a stranger about it?” she asked, almost sympathetically.

I took a deep breath. I wasn’t likely to live in this city again anytime soon, so why not?

“I flunked out of college,” I said bitterly. “I know that sounds like it’s not much to be upset about, but… I really like Veilstone, and living on my own, and all my new friends are here, and all my high school friends have moved out of Sandgem, and…” I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice from breaking. “And it’s gonna break my mom’s heart. She’ll think I’m a failure, and she’ll never let me forget it. Living with her is gonna be Hell.”

“Hm,” the mysterious woman said. “Y’know, I might have something that could help you. Galactic Corps is looking for temp workers. It’s six months. You wouldn’t have to apply or anything, you just get the job. It would give you an excuse to hang around Veilstone for a little longer. And who knows? Maybe it’ll lead you to bigger things.”

The bus pulled up beside me, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the woman even as the others headed for Sandgem began to line up and get on the bus. She pulled out a business card with a golden “G” logo and a phone number on it. I took it, thanked her, gathered my bags, rushed onboard the bus, and took one of the last available seats.

It took a minute for the opportunity I’d been given to sink in. It seemed way too good to be true. I opened up my pokétch to do a smidge of research. Galactic Corps was an energy company, and it did indeed have a lot of six-month temp positions open- and they paid a lot considering the menial stuff they’d have us do. This was amazing. Once I got home, I wouldn’t be telling my mom that I flunked out. I’d be telling her that an amazing job opportunity came my way, and I was going to take a semester off to do the whole six months of it. That was plenty of time to get off academic probation or find another path in life, and so my mom would never have to know how I partied my last opportunity away.

-

My mom was excited when she heard about the job. She was fine with me missing the Fall semester for it and helped me to find an apartment in Veilstone to stay in since I couldn’t live in the school dorms if I wasn’t in school. The apartment was pretty empty since I didn’t have a lot of furniture to put in it, but hey, that would come in time.

“There you go, Evie. Home sweet home,” I said, putting down my middle-aged eevee once I’d unpacked. She looked around like she was appraising the place, then skittered over for her pet bed and curled up, head on fluffy tail. I sat down next to her on the floor and stroked her. “Yeah, this is gonna be a nice place for us, isn’t it? No roommates to keep you up at night, or to trash the place and leave us to clean up… it’ll be great.” In a crazy way, it felt almost like I was more mature than the guys who were still living in dorms.

My first day at Galactic Corps was unusual but not concerning. I met up at its entrance with about twenty other temp workers, mostly people my age with some teenagers and late twenties mixed in. A few of them were from out of town and were talking about the weirdly-placed spikes on the building or staring at the secretary through the glass door and asking why she was in some space-age costume, but as a Veilstone resident, I was used to that. I didn’t know that this building was Galactic Corps, but I did know that we had a weird spiked building looming over us, and I’d seen the weird little space dudes running around on occasion. Never thought I’d end up working here, but hey, it was a job.

At 8 AM, The secretary unlocked the door for us and told us that the person responsible for training us was out sick that day, and showed us to the cleaning supplies.

“Think of it as a way to get to know the place, find out where everything is,” she said. “Try to make yourselves useful as you do it.” With that, we took the supplies and scattered. I took a broom.

I’d never thought of what an energy company’s headquarters would be like, but this wasn’t what I expected. Even rooms that seemed to have no unusual purpose- just their weird little space dudes (and girls, there were girls, too) tapping away at computers and whatnot- made me feel like I was in some sort of space vessel, with those metal automatic doors that opened and closed like mouths swallowing us up. A lot of the doors wouldn’t open. I counted six locked doors in the chemistry department, ten in the biology department, and four in engineering before I ended up in a hallway leading to a dead end. While I was sweeping it, a permanent worker carrying a box walked past me with a sense of purpose, like she was heading somewhere. She stepped on a weird circular tile at the end of the hallway, and seemed to disappear into thin air like an abra teleporting. Driven by unthinking curiosity, I dropped my broom and stepped on the strange tile, too.

My whole body seemed to tingle, and the ground shook beneath my feet. Then, a second later, I was in some sort of break room. Two space dudes were sitting at a table, chatting and playing cards. For a moment, I was too stunned to do much of anything. The female space dude walked past them and left through a door.

I didn’t know anything except that I didn’t know where I was, so I stepped off the orange tile and stepped back on, hoping for a ride back, but nothing happened. “Uh, a little help here?” I asked the workers.

Suddenly, two pairs of eyes were on me, and one of them looked angry. “You’re not supposed to be here. This section is for grunts only,” the shorter space dude snapped, springing up. “Did you steal someone’s keycard or something?”

“Cool it,” the taller space dude said to him, getting up. “Keycards let the teleportation panels open, but they stay open for a few seconds after.” He held his keycard over the panel, making it light up. Then he looked to me. “You just wandered in here because you were curious, right?”

“Uh, yeah…?” I said.

He chuckled. “Don’t worry, we’ll deal with that. Why don’t I meet you down at the lobby at quitting time so we can go out together?”

“Sure,” I said. It didn’t seem like a good idea to say no to someone who knew I’d fucked up.

“Sounds good. I’m Titan A-3, by the way,” he said, gently pushing me to face the other way and step onto the teleporter. A second later, I was back in the empty hallway.

As he asked, I showed up to the lobby after I got off work, and Titan came to get me a few minutes after that. He told me to follow him, and he took me through a keycard-requiring door and a couple portals.

“Don’t worry, it’s okay since you’re with me,” he assured me.

One more portal, and I was in a room full of bunk beds, many of which were occupied by… well, I guess they call themselves grunts, like Team Rocket grunts in TV shows.

“Who wants to go out to the Crafty Flask?” Titan asked. Several grunts dropped what they were doing to join him. Some of them were raising their hands like kids in a classroom. Two even had temp workers with them, so some had clearly known the plan beforehand.

“Meet us outside in ten minutes,” Titan said, turning on his heel, “If you’re late, you’re left.”

Once I got to the lobby, the grunts had shed their uniforms and some of them had shed their weird hair. As we walked to the bar, there were a lot of whispered conversations between grunts. They seemed to be having a good time, giggling away and all that, but they also seemed to be hiding their conversations with me. I looked for the other temp workers, but it looked like the two of them were planning to hook up. So I went to the front of the pack with Titan.

With a whole bunch of them, Titan stuck out even more. He was fit, he was confident, and he had an air of admirability to him that the other grunts just didn’t.

“So, you guys live in the headquarters?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Titan answered. “You take a cut in pay once you become a grunt, but since you get room and board and don’t have to worry about bills and whatnot, all your money is fun money, so it kind of evens out. And you get to be with your favourite people all the time. It’s great.”

“Yeah, sounds nice,” I said, thinking about how I still had to figure out where to pay my bills and utilities for the new apartment, and figure how much money I should spend furnishing the place. I had a lot of adulting-type stuff to figure out in a hurry.

Once we got within a couple blocks of the bar, Titan turned back to the others.

“Alright, you guys know the drill. Low ranks pull back so the rest of us don’t look like weirdos,” he said to the crowd. Then he turned to me. “You can come with us, newbie,” he said. The grunts without the weird hair kept walking as the ones with it stayed behind, and soon we were at the bar.

“I am so glad I got to A rank,” one of the male grunts said as soon as we were seated. “Pulling non-Galactic girls is impossible when you have to wear your freak flag wherever you go.”

The female grunt next to him playfully punched him. “And what exactly is the point of fucking outside people again?” She said the word ‘outside’ like it was some kind of slur.

“Variety!” he shot back. “And thrill of the chase. You Galactic girls are too easy.”

“Wait,” I cut in, “Are lower ranks not allowed to take off the bowlcuts, or…?”

“Yeah, basically,” Titan explained. “Only the higher ranks are allowed to go back to being normal people at the end of the day because we’ve proven ourselves loyal. For the rest of them, well, it’s their actual hair. But you climb the ranks pretty quick if you’re halfway competent.”

I nodded.

“And for the record? He wasn’t lying about Galactic girls being easy. You know how I offered the bar and a bunch of people sprung up? Well, the same works for, say, a game of Scrabble, someone to watch the game with, and yeah, sex. Have you seen the ‘Make sure the bed is unoccupied before getting in’ sign in the-”

My eyes had been getting wider and wider until he’d mentioned that sign and taken me out of it. “Oh my God, that’s what that’s for!?” I’d seen that sign in the Team Galactic nap room, and I’d thought the same dirty thoughts anyone would, but I hadn’t thought I was right about it.

Titan laughed. “Yep.”

The rest of the night was great. I played beer pong with a team of three grunts and the two temp workers and I learned a little more about their lives. Apparently, they get to learn to battle as a part of their job training, and dang, who wouldn’t want that? I’d take up hobbyist battling if I didn’t have to be the one actually taking care of six pets I don’t have time for. It seemed like a fun life, and one of the grunts even invited me to visit their training center later in the week.

Come the next morning, I was supposed to learn the Galactic Corps methods of encryption. I showed up at 9 AM, head throbbing and unshowered, and plunked myself into the correct chair. The grunt next to me greeted me professionally and began explaining stuff, but I could barely absorb any of what he was saying.

“Hey, drink this,” a passing grunt offered, handing me a disposable water bottle filled with sludge that looked like pond scum. “It’ll help with your hangover.” He handed one to my instructor as well, who thanked him. They both uncapped their bottles and started drinking.

I eyed the bottle hesitantly. The stuff had to be edible if the others were drinking it. But it looked disgusting, and my stomach wasn’t in the mood for a challenge.

“It’s not as gross as it looks, I promise,” said my instructor before taking another sip.

I uncapped the bottle and drank. The murky drink tasted like if someone had blended Gatorade, energy drinks, and protein shakes, and given its texture, it wouldn’t surprise me if that’s what it was. Nasty. But the other grunts handled them with a stiff upper lip, so I kept chugging. And my headache did go away. My stomach stopped hurting. My heartrate picked up. I felt legitimately as good as new- no, better- before I’d even finished it.

From there, the morning went smoother. My mentor demonstrated the code to me one time and I picked it up immediately. I was honestly pretty surprised at myself for learning so quickly. Within an hour, he’d left me to my devices, interpreting and translating the encrypted messages. It was repetitive, mindless work, and normally I’d have daydreamed while doing it. For some reason though, when I tried to, I just couldn’t. It was like those thoughts were out of reach. I didn’t get bored with the work, either, so I didn’t mind much. It was kind of unsettling how focused I was.

“Hey, lunchtime,” one of the grunts said to me. It felt like I’d only been working an hour, but sure enough, the day was already half over. I followed the crowd of grunts and temps to what must have been their lunchroom. I decided to try out the trick Titan had taught me last night.

“Hey,” I asked the crowd of grunts, getting some of their attention. I wasn’t exactly sure what to ask them. Sex was obviously out- I was willing to risk looking weird, but not crazy. My eyes caught on two grunts playing cards. “Anyone want to play some poker?”

A few of them shot up and joined me. We had fun.

It didn’t occur to me until the next day to ask why an energy company was doing encryption. And once I took another murky drink, that question faded away.

Over the next several weeks, I fell into the habit of spending most of my free time at Galactic Corps. My other friends were scattered to the winds for their summer jobs. Even on the weekends, making plans with them was a lot harder than just walking into a room and getting exactly the kind of attention I wanted.

Through it all, I heard whispers about Cyrus. It was all vague enough that I didn’t feel like I knew much about him, but I put together four basic things. 

Firstly, he was their boss. I’d heard enough comments along the lines of, ‘why does Cyrus want us to do this,” or, “I wonder what Cyrus has planned next,” to be sure of that. 

Secondly, they feared him. They didn’t see him often outside of speeches and direct orders, and those who had said that he had a gaze that could freeze you solid and see into your soul-deep flaws. 

Thirdly, they loved him, and in ways that seemed overzealous just for a CEO. The commanders saw the most of him and those who worked in tech saw the second most, and they were envied for getting to see him in action. And the way they spoke about his abilities in battle, strategy, and oration, well- I wish anyone had that much confidence in me.

Lastly, he had promised them a new world. I had no idea what that meant, but it didn’t seem like my business. Cyrus didn’t seem like my business. I was there to buy time to sort my life out, not to gain some sort of hero figure. Still, I was curious.

One day, after Cyrus given a speech the night before, the cafeteria was abuzz with grunts talking about him, and curiosity got the better of me.

Even Titan wasn’t as focused on me as usual that day. He didn’t speak to me at all as I sat down next to him, seemingly lost in dreamy thought as his entourage chattered away. I grabbed his shoulder to knock him out of his daydream.

“Hey. Could you tell me about the new world?” I asked.

“We could if we knew about it ourselves,” a low-ranked male grunt answered before Titan could, “the boss is pretty close-mouthed about the details.”

A higher-ranked grunt rolled her eyes. “No, he isn’t. You’re just not listening to him right. He’s said it- the new world will only be for Team Galactic! Everyone else will be drones that serve us. They won’t be able to fight or mess things up like he hates.”

“Don’t be stupid. He’s going to take over the region and let us all live like royalty and that’s it. Conspiracy theories are hardly becoming of Team Galactic! -er, Galactic Corps.”

The female grunt pushed him, knocking his chair over and sending him to the ground. “Don’t listen to him,” she told me. “Cyrus talks about how terrible humans are every time he opens his mouth, and he’s having us research Pokémon that can change it. He’s gonna take us to a whole new planet where no one can bully us and everything is perfect.”

“Maybe,” Titan cut in, all attention in the room going to him, “but I don’t think Cyrus wants to just make everyone- or even everyone but us- into zombies. I think he wants to rid everyone of their flaws, so we can live our best lives without them. He says it’s for Team Galactic alone because we’re the only ones who will remember how things used to be.”

“But we’ll be rid of our flaws, too, right?” I asked. God, I liked that idea.

“Absolutely. Cyrus talks a lot about the purity of the new world, how nothing so incomplete as the human spirit will be a part of it. I think every person in the new world will be born anew.”

“I’ve heard that he’s even draining Team Galactic of their flaws right now,” another grunt added. “We’ve messed with legendary Pokémon for him. He wouldn’t lie about making Pokémons’ power his own, so he’s definitely already got it. Right? Maybe that’s even what the murky drinks are for.”

Titan hesitated. “I don’t know if he has any special powers, but yeah, I’d say he is. The structure is good for a lot of people, including me.” Titan rolled up his sleeves then, showing off forearms that were scarred with a few track marks. “I was about to fall into a dark place before I joined. You know, you could join us, too,” he said, looking at me.

All I could think about was those murky drinks, and how I felt on them. Focused. Linear-minded. Free from any doubt. Was that my flaws leaving me? If Team Galactic could fix an addict, could it fix me, either with the drinks, or the structure or something involving legendaries? The drinks made me feel weird, not quite myself, but maybe better. Maybe that version of me would be happier. He’d probably make my mom a lot happier. And he definitely wouldn’t be such a fuck-up.

“I’ll… I’ll think about it,” I replied.

[corndoggod]

30 for 30: Not Drinking

I’ve never done dry January for a few reasons. 1) I never even considered it until like three years ago. 2) I like to drink more than most and while I knew I could have a healthier relationship with alcohol, I never saw it as a problem. 3) My birthday is January 16. 

But this year, the year I turned 30, I decided to try it, mostly just because I’d never done it before and 30 seemed like a good moment to challenge myself in this way. Could I be comfortable and sociable without God’s lubricant? 

The following is a catalog of times I was tempted by the devil’s water. 

The Gutter

League bowling was running 30 minutes behind schedule and what was there to do but sit at the bar and order a beer. I sat at the bar. C ordered a seltzer with bitters. It was enough. I was slightly nervous with Daddy because C seemed off and I wanted to attend to her. (I was turned away from her, talking to Daddy). 

I was tempted again during the game. I opened strong - two strikes and a spare - but then I slipped. I got frustrated. I wanted to suck on some foam. But I didn’t. 

Tuesday

Feeling good with C who came home early after her new painting job. A beer just sounded nice. Instead, I cracked a seltzer and read Mike Davis’ City of Quartz in preparation for our journey to Los Angeles. Davis described the city in turns as a battleground between sunshine and noir, a big angry parking lot and a product of boosters and real estate speculators. I calculated that my thirty days of not drinking would expire while we were on vacation in LA, the day after Valentine’s Day. What would I toast to? 

Writing Workshop

I was mildly tempted, or rather, knew I would’ve grabbed beers for Sunday’s workshop reunion in normal times. It’d been seven months since we last met and we felt a bit aimless since no one had work to present. And in that aimlessness, I felt a thirst, something to latch my lips to. I knew the liquid would loosen something inside. I kissed my knuckles and carried on. 

The Whale

I was not tempted in the belly of the whale. C made an Indian feast with three boy sous chefs asking, “What can I do?” every few minutes. And after forty minutes of a million dirty dishes we sat down to saag paneer, daal, coconut chutney, rice, naan and samosas to watch The Whale, a movie about a morbidly obese online English instructor trying to reconnect with his very angry daughter of 17. 

A Long Week of Quiet Quitting 

I took adderall every day except Friday, but I couldn’t bring myself to do a single thing. I had no deadlines, so it wasn’t negligent. But it was definitely irresponsible. Friday was for c and karaoke - my favorite and least favorite things. I’d jabber and jabber but never sing - lips too numb, confidence like a kite in a tornado. 

Bowling

My greatest weakness proved to be poor performances at bowling night. My scores slipped dramatically, halved from a 181 to a 92. I’d spent a lot of time calibrating the optimal blood alcohol levels for peak pin destruction and it was 2-4 beers. And here I was, clean as a whistle throwing gutters. You can’t sip water in frustration and smile after. You can’t go “Ahh, refreshing.” So I had a Bornx Pale Ale - forgetting I don’t really like the taste. But my score improved to 141. 

Slick’s 30th Birthday

Tonight might be the night, I thought to myself. It was miserably cold and it took an hour and two bus transfers to get there. I got in a squabble with C over dinner and I just wanted to go home or ride my bike. If I was going to the bar, I wanted a beer. I’d all but convinced myself, but then came Slick, the birthday boy, a wonder wall of sweaty exuberance. It was midnight now and we’d been in the basement dancing to DJ Preschool -- a white haired man with as many teeth as fingers and he was missing a finger. I closed my eyes and danced. That’s what alcohol does: closes your eyes. But after an hour of that I wanted something more to keep me going. I told C I might get a beer. She offered a gummy instead. I relayed this to N who laughed and told me had c. “Same,” I said and we saluted. 

Then birthday boy Nick bounded up to me. His curly hair was a frizzy halo and I smelled his swea . “Still not drinking, eh? That’s so great man. Really awesome to be out having a a good time and not rely on that. I’m so proud of you.” Little did he know. 

Vacation’s Eve

We’re bound for the capitol of capital on the Pacific Rim, leaving the very same on the Eastern Seaboard. It’s Friday and I’m home biding my time. I volunteered to be the pack mule so C could have dinner with her friend whose birthday we’ll miss. I’m tired but I wanted to write all day. Still, I’d rather read right now. I’d love to read with a beer - something to relax. Instead I tap out a line, three lines and here we go. Can’t wait for the subway and to see her parents. 

I was bored and agitated. Bored because I was reading for the fifth Friday in a row and agitated because of what I was reading: That damn lefty history of L.A. 

Lessons Learned

I learned what it’s like to do c with no alcohol. I felt my face torque, teeth gnash, heart wallop. That awareness felt awful, but it was overpowered by exuberance. 

I learned how often I introduce alcohol to situations. I’ve tended to blame my friends - a bunch of hard-drinking cows, but I too am an instigator. 

I learned drinking can be saved for social things. I didn’t need a beer at the end of a hard day. I could relax in other ways - like cooking or running or stretching or reading or writing in my diary for fun. 

[allegra-j-joann]

Writing Scrap #12

It started with little things, as it always does in stories like these. A stolen eraser chopped up and scattered by the lockers, I was mostly annoyed because it was one of the expensive scented ones, but I kept all the pieces and used them anyway. A foot stuck out from under the desk to trip me, accidentally, they claim. My homework was taken from the desk tubs and dumped in the recycle bin, I took to checking there automatically when it came time to turn it all in. Little things the teacher deemed harmless if she ever even noticed them, I took her word for it, she was grown up, and she knew best.

If it had stayed at little things, I probably wouldn’t have ever paid it any mind, but it got bigger. Tripping me up as I passed became shoving in the schoolyard. The stolen homework stopped being in the recycling, I found it in the garbage with my lunch dumped out on top. They stopped taking my things from the lockers, only because I had nothing left worth taking. The worst was the exclusion from games and sports teams, but when I’d get the teacher involved it was always “we forgot” or “we didn’t think you wanted to play”. Like walking a dirt road, It went unnoticed at first, little things here and there, slowly wearing away every day, until without warning I found myself in a waist-deep ditch. No literally, the little pricks shoved me into a ditch at the bottom of the school gardens one day, it was my breaking point, I told them off, I yelled and ranted, they laughed in my face. Then they started ignoring me.

At first, I was grateful for the peace and quiet, so long as they pretended I didn't exist, they weren’t messing with me or my stuff, I nearly made it a whole week as the invisible kid. The thing about that ditch is that once you’ve worked your way into it, it’s pretty hard to get out again, especially when you’re little. There was no one to pull me up, they didn’t even pause to look when I shouted, I couldn’t get out for what felt like hours, I’d missed the last lesson, and the bus home. I wasn’t prepared to adjust to life in the ditch, if I’m being honest, a little lean-to hut down one end, and the school gardens had vegetables that sometimes spilled into the ditch, as gross as they were, they were food, I daydreamed about them finding my skeleton in a hundred years, or maybe they’d just forget I existed altogether. Twenty minutes later the groundskeeper heard me talking to myself and helped me climb out, he sent me home for dinner. I didn’t go back to that school after that, I still sometimes wonder what my classmates thought of that, and then I remember I’m not supposed to think about them if I can help it.