oh you know it's all latestage capitalism but the thing is. how are you supposed to be a person inside of this. a person trying to be a better version of yourself.
oh, you started working young, which was kind of hard, but it's just the way stuff works sometimes. and it was 2008 and your family couldn't afford heat. but it's fine, you grow a spine and get used to the professional world and besides it was the suburbs we're talking about here, like, your life could have been actually hard, so what if your father lost his job and you can't afford to move or turn the lights back on. and once you start making money, it's good. you keep doing that. because now they're relying on you. so you have to do that.
oh you were in thousands of dollars of debt at 17 years old so that you could go to school, because you have to go to school if you want to get a "real" job. you even did it "right", you worked parttime and attended community college before you transferred to a public school. you were under so many merit scholarships.
which is fine. you pick yourself up and you say like, okay. i graduated college. i'm holding down a job. i'm doing the Adult Thing, which looks and acts like this, according to all the books i've read. you start with the shitty job and then you climb that corporate ladder.
but the shitty job doesn't cover rent and you stretch yourself too-thin so you get sick. good luck with that. the shitty job no longer pays for your meals. everyone asks why you don't just move, but there's nowhere to move to. and with what money are you going to be moving? and then the loans come back, because they were never going to forgive them, because you were 17 and trying to do the right thing, which was stupid. people are now saying you shouldn't have even gone to school.
which is fine. but because you have no other option, so you do the shitty job, and you apply every day for like 5 new ones, and despite the fact everyone says "there's no one who wants to work!" it's actually just that nobody is fucking hiring so you can either work for 13 dollars an hour in the shitty place you know (where at least you have a passingly friendly relationship with the manager) or you can start from scratch again with a different 13 dollars an hour without knowing how much abuse from the new job you'll be taking.
and if you quit you lose your insurance. if you quit you lose your housing. if you quit, you'll be another burnout kid. the lazy ones. these assholes, look at them!
and you come home to a family dinner and you hear from your father the same old thing. how he worked hard at his job and yes it sucked for a while but he was able to provide for the family and then the house and the dog and the rest of barbie's dream vacation. how the insurance did cover some of it. how you just really need to start speaking up more in manager conversations so they know you're a go-getter. you want to tell him - did you know we're actually doing more now hourly than any previous generation? - but you can't remember where you heard that statistic, and you're far too tired for the fucking argument. and then he starts in on his usual bit. where's the house? where's your kids? where's your ambition.
the same job the same money the same hours doesn't do it anymore. the same nose-to-the-grindstone now just shreds your face off. there's no such thing as upwards mobility, not really. and as far as you're aware, the money certainly is not trickling. you do the soulless stupid shit you signed up for because you fucking have to or else you literally risk your life (food, the apartment, the insurance), but it's not getting you anything. you download the stupid "save more" app and you budget and you do every right thing and then the price of eggs is 7 dollars and you say - oh great! another thing i have to fucking worry about now!
and you go to your stupid job and everyone in your father's generation just tells you to be better about being an adult. they have their homes and their savings account and their bailout and they say. well have you tried not drinking starbucks. well your generation just spends too much on clothing. well you might just be too addicted to travelling. and you - because you need the job - you bite your tongue and don't say i am being held prisoner and you're suggesting i stop pacing my cell if i don't like the scenery and you don't say what the fuck do you think i've been doing with my money and you don't say i haven't spent a cent on something nice in literally forever much less coffee you arrogant asshole. you open and close your bank app and check your loans and check your credit score and check fucking zillow and ziprecruiter and apartments.com just one time more. and still they give you that demeaning little grin and say - see, what you need is -
what you need is for your meds to stop being so fucking expensive. what you need is for the housing bubble to explode into dust. what you need is for billionaires to choke on their wealth. what you need is actual help. what you will get is more economic advice from people who are older-and-wiser.
and above you, almost in a glimmer, you can see the wedged smile of your debt getting toothier, wider.
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"You know, I kind of get it now," Gem says to Impulse.
"What?" Impulse says. He's nervously playing with a frozen shard in his hands. Come on, Impulse, head into the dungeon, don't be shy, you can do it. Keep hyping yourself up, you didn't die horribly last time. Ugh, he wishes he were a little less into the game, or maybe more uncomplicatedly addicted, like Gem; it would make everything easier if he thought he could either just leave or play.
"I get it now!" Gem says. "Oh, stop debating if you'll go in like that, either do it or don't."
"I'm trying, Gem!"
"Yeah, but if you aren't gonna do it, I want a go."
"You used all your shards."
"In principle!" Gem says. "It's the principle! You wouldn't get it. You don't hang out here nearly as much as I do. You don't understand, understand the vibes." She sticks out her tongue at him for good measure.
"Well, inform me of the vibes, and maybe I'll work up the nerve," Impulse says.
"It's like--I get it now," she says. "When you were complaining earlier this season about Tango not going outside, I was like, aw man, you redstoners and your caves. I'm a sunshine girl. I like trees. And bloodshed."
"Don't see how those things are related but continue," Impulse says.
"I thought you were complaining because Tango is equally lame as you are about stuff like 'going outside' and 'talking to people who don't drag him into it'," Gem clarifies.
"I go outside!" Impulse says. "I go outside all the time! I ran a rebellion! I pranked you and Pearl! I yelled at Grian! I helped cover the perimeter! I have a whole island and a giant shop! I got a job with Scar! I even went through the Rift! I don't know what you want from me, here. It's not like I'm Tango. I did things that weren't my base from time to time."
"The lady doth protest too much," Gem says.
Impulse sighs. Gem laughs and hops into the air and squeezes herself into a gap between the walls near the entrance to the dungeon. Impulse has seen her in there a lot recently; it's almost like she's a gargoyle, or an inlaid relief for the dungeon. Weird thing to think about his friends, but--
"Besides," Gem continues. "Besides. I just said I get it now."
And something about that makes the hairs on Impulse's arm stand on-end.
"You get why we have to work so hard on circuit design?" Impulse asks hopefully.
"No, I don't get the redstone stuff, that's all still stupid nerd stuff," Gem says cheerfully.
"Jock," Impulse says.
Gem smirks meanly. "Script kiddie."
"Ow, that hurts. And it's not even true. Where did you even learn that one, you just admitted you hate that stuff!"
"Lady never tells her secrets," Gem says.
"Well, if you don't understand the redstone, what do you understand?" Impulse asks.
"Just--you really could stay in here forever, couldn't you? It'd be fun while you did it! I even built a tree and everything. Not much I have to leave for anymore, is there?"
Impulse swallows. Ah.
"Except when you run out of shards," he says, after a painful long several seconds in which there's a rock in his throat and he can't breathe and he has to try very hard to find an excuse to refute that.
"Yeah, except for that. Why did Tango have to go and limit how many times we can go in, huh? If I didn't get bored halfway through the week I think I could just move in!"
And Impulse--
Impulse thinks of Tango.
"Yeah," he says. He plays with the frozen shard in his hands. It feels very cold. "I wonder why."
"So? Are you gonna run or not? I want to mock you when you die," Gem says.
"...I might as well spend them all sooner rather than later," Impulse says, and he puts the shard in the barrel. His heart skips a beat as the door opens. Gem cheers. He shakes his whole body to shake off the conversation as he goes inside. It never does, after all, to try to run the dungeon while distracted.
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Firefighter Steve sits outside the firehouse late one night, soaking in his first day on the job. Sure, he didn't fight any fires today, but he did get to help with a medical emergency case. So far, it's everything he'd hoped the career choice would be.
He's making a mental list of things to tell his boyfriend, Eddie, about when he sees him tomorrow when a small figure materializes at the end of the driveway. It's a girl. A young one by the size of her shadow, and she's clutching something in her arms.
Not wanting to spook her, Steve slowly rises to his feet but doesn't take any steps toward her. He lets her do that. Watching as the girl takes one cautious step after the other. It's only when she's a few feet away does Steve notice she's clutching a newborn in her small arms.
The girl takes a moment for herself. Brings the baby to her cheek and nuzzles its small face before she starts walking again. This time she doesn't stop until she's right in front of Steve.
"Do you need help?"
She shakes her head before extending her arms and the newborn out toward him.
It takes Steve a moment to realize what's happening, but then his training kicks in. He takes the newborn from the girl's hands without question and takes a moment to glance down at the tiny thing in his arms. When he looks back up, the girl is gone.
The baby stirs in Steve's arm, and he adjusts his hold on them. Brushes a thumb against the baby's soft apples of their cheeks before clutching the infant tight to his chest.
Steve calls the Chief as soon he's back inside the station. The older man is annoyed at first until he glances at the small baby in Steve's arms.
"What do we do?"
The Chief sighs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Take 'em to the hospital. Get 'em checked out, and then CPS takes over."
Steve knew that. Remembers it from the brief lecture on the importance of safe surrender sights. The same lecture the retired chief preferred by saying “never happens.”
And yet…
Steve glances down at the baby in his arms again and this time he’s met with two tiny brown eyes staring back at him. There’s a moment of calmness before the baby scrunches its small nose and begins to cry. Instinctively, Steve rocks the newborn in his arms and the crying subsides.
“Are we uh,” Steve hesitates, looking down at the baby in his arms. “Are we allowed to intervene before CPS.”
The Chief stops dead in his tracks and slowly turns around to face Steve. “Are you asking if you can keep the kid?”
Steve nods. “My partner and I we uh, we always talked about having kids. And well, uh this feels sort of like fate in a way, sir.”
The Chief nods, “The hospital will know more about this than I will. Let’s get you two over there, yeah?”
-- -- --
It’s three in the morning when Eddie runs into the hospital in his plaid pajama pants and threadbare shirt. He’s seconds away from screaming at the poor woman working reception when he spots Steve around the corner.
“The station called; they said you were on your way to the hospital!” Eddie nearly sobs, taking Steve’s face in his hands. “What happened?”
“M’okay,” Steve says, moving his own hands so that they rest on Eddie’s hips. “They should have worded that call better.” Steve looks over his shoulder, glaring in the direction of the Chief.
“Then why are we here?”
“Come with me.”
Steve leads Eddie down the hallways and straight into the nursery where their baby girl is being swaddled in a new blanket. Eddie gasps, turning to look at Steve with tears welling in his eyes.
“She was surrendered to me an hour ago and I— I don’t know, Eds. I just though, maybe it was fate? Maybe she’s—“
“Meant to be ours?”
“Yeah.”
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