#(back)scratcher Sunday | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fahrni · 1 year ago

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Saturday Morning Coffee

Good morning from Charlottesville, Virginia! ☕️

Another week in the books. It’s my favorite time of the year. Trees are changing color and dropping leaves. Temperatures are beginning to drop. We have Halloween and Thanksgiving coming up. What a wonderful season!🍁🎃🦃

Robert D. McFadden • New York Times

Dianne Feinstein, 90, Dies; Oldest Sitting Senator and Fixture of California Politics

A friend of mine worked for Dianne Feinstein when he was in college. He was a registered Republican but that didn’t matter to her. She still hired him.

RIP 🪦

Moira Warburton and David Morgan • Reuters

WASHINGTON, Sept 29 (Reuters) - Hardline Republicans in the U.S. House of Representatives on Friday rejected a bill proposed by their leader to temporarily fund the government, making it all but certain that federal agencies will partially shut down beginning on Sunday.

And, here we go. All these knuckleheads want to do is tear down democracy. They don’t legislate and pass laws. You’re there to do the work of the people you represent back home.

Anyway, the modern GOP is full of idiots like Gaetz, Boebert, and Green. Why Republicans are so angry and hateful is beyond me. 🤬

Jacob Kastrenakes • The Verge

“Did he say we were moving to it specifically or is thinking about it?” Yaccarino asked.

That was Linda Yaccarino’s reply when asked if Twitter was going to start charging a fee for all users, a claim Space Karen made. She was caught off guard, she didn’t know that was the plan. She’s not the CEO of the company. She’s probably there just so Space Karen can say he lived up to his stupid poll.

I’m sure Linda Yaccarino is a more than competent executive but she’s made a deal with the devil. She should be nervous. Especially once he’s fired her. I originally said she be gone in six months. I’m sticking by that. She’s 100 days into her new role and already out of the loop.

Christian Tietze

SwiftUI.View is actually a view model – a model of the view. It’s a blueprint for what to display, but doesn’t contain any actual pixel drawing.

This is an interesting take and I think Christian is right. Once you think about it for a bit it starts to make sense. At least it did for me.

Now, I’ve done a bit of work on one of my apps — Arrgly — that has a few view models and they fit right into the new SwiftUI I’m writing. So, view models work as well, but is it an unneeded level of indirection? Maybe. 🤔

Jenny Gross • The New York Times

A 16-year-old boy was arrested Thursday on suspicion of criminal damage after one of Britain’s most famous trees, a sycamore that stood in a dip in Hadrian’s Wall, was cut down overnight in what the authorities described as “an act of vandalism.”

This is one of those head scratchers. Why in the world would someone just cut a down a random tree?

Hopefully we find out.

Craig Hockenberry

The only explanation I can find for the Timer’s design regressions is an unfamiliarity with some use cases. In the following critique, I’ll focus on how the watch is used in the kitchen and how older customers struggle with the new layout. Suggestions will be kept to a minimum: the effort here is to be descriptive, not prescriptive.

Wow! Craig does a deep dive into the Apple Watch Timer. I also used the built in timers when I’d grill.

Umar Shakir • The Verge

Google is offering its employees a new incentive to come into its Mountain View, California office: discounted hotel stays. The company is promoting $99 per night rates for its on-campus hotel to help remote employees transition into a hybrid working schedule, according to a report from CNBC.

Yeah, that’s not what I’d call good marketing. 🤣 you pay us $99 a night so you don’t have to commute to work! Brilliant! How ‘bout you just let folks work from home? 🧠

Gabriela Galindo • WIRED

The Fruit Union Suisse is 111 years old. For most of its history, it has had as its symbol a red apple with a white cross—the Swiss national flag superimposed on one of its most common fruits. But the group, the oldest and largest fruit farmer’s organization in Switzerland, worries it might have to change its logo, because Apple, the tech giant, is trying to gain intellectual property rights over depictions of apples, the fruit.

If Apple goes after a company over 100 years old because the have a logo with an apple on it they’re pathetic. 🤬

Believe it or not it’s part of what motivated me to change my little company’s name from Apple Core Labs to Hayseed.

Scott Jenson

Android and iOS share a common problem: they copied desktop text editing conventions, but without a menu bar or mouse. This forced them to overload the tap gesture with a wide range of actions: placing the cursor, moving it, selecting text, and invoking a pop-up menu. This results in an overly complicated and ambiguous mess-o-taps, leading to a variety of user errors.

I’ve mentioned I compose all my blog posts on my iPhone. I do it largely out of laziness. 😁

I’ve used Tot for a number of years and it has the best editing experience of any iPhone apps I’ve used.

Once I’m happy with my post I copy it to Micro.Blog and post it to my blog. Easy peasy.

Jeff Seldin • Voice of America

White supremacists appear to have settled on a new strategy to grow their numbers and ready capable fighting forces across the United States, Canada and Europe while avoiding the scrutiny of law enforcement.

I’ve been waiting for a war to break out in our country. At the least a bunch of very targeted attacks. If these wannabe soldiers can actually get their act together folks may have to start worrying. If they’re as disorganized and dumbass as they were on January 6, we’ll be fine. Yes, people will die, and that’s a terrible price to pay for stupidity.

Rogers Cadenhead

I publish this blog and seven other sites with Wordzilla, a CMS I wrote for myself and have never released. I began it 20 years ago and the PHP codebase is best examined in small doses because to look upon its full extent would bring a descent into madness worthy of Yog-Shoggoth.

I’ve read Rogers blog for years and years and I had no idea it was a home rolled solution. Good for you, Rogers! I’ve always wanted to create my own publishing system but I don’t have the gumption any longer to do it. 🎩

Ross Dellenger • Yahoo Sports

About 20 minutes after the conclusion of, let’s call it, the Autzen Stadium Massacre — Oregon 42, Colorado 6 — Prime Time himself nicely summed up the sordid affair.

I knew they’d lose eventually. It’s just going to happen, especially with a program in rebuild mode. They’ve already doubled last years win total so I’d say this year has already been a success. I also suspect they’ll win quite a few games this season. More than they lose. 🏈

X Out Hate

We are a group of rabbis, leaders of Jewish organizations, artists, activists, and academics. We have diverse ideologies and beliefs, but we have come together to address the danger Elon Musk and X represent to Jews and others.

Space Karen strikes again. He’s a racist and antisemite and has no place running a social media sit with so much power. X has become a home for the worst of the worst and it all his fault.

Hopefully we get some regulation around trust and safety issues that force social media companies to police their platforms better. 🤞🏼

It’s beyond time to leave Twitter. You now have much better choices; Mastodon, Threads, and Bluesky. Very selfishly I’d recommend Mastodon. It’s not controlled by a corporate entity who’s interest is using your data as the product. It’s a rag tag, loosely federated, collection of misfits and absolutely beautiful people carrying on the best conversations. It’s a place to build your community with a site controlled by your community. You don’t answer to anyone but yourself.

Aaron Brooks • MakeUseOf

A critical vulnerability in the WebP Codec has been discovered, forcing major browsers to fast-track security updates. However, widespread use of the same WebP rendering code means countless apps are also affected, until they release security patches.

Yikes! Make sure you patch your browser ASAP.

Evan Low • The Mercury News

Contrary to how some have misrepresented the letter my colleagues and I sent to California Attorney General Rob Bonta, we are not asking to “unilaterally strike (Donald) Trump’s name” from the ballot.

I’d love to see Trumps name stricken from as many states as possible. Especially those where he encouraged election fraud.

As a nation we need to do everything legally possible to keep this dangerous man out of office.

David Jays • The Guardian

A star with incredible presence, Gambon – who has died at the age of 82 – brought heft and delicacy, mischief and feeling, to the stage and screen

Most folks will remember him as Dumbledore. I remember him best for his roles in Sleepy Hollow and Mary Reilly. He played a real nasty piece of work in Mary Reilly and that stuck with me. 🪦

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johnconstantinejld · 1 year ago

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Midas Story of a Disease

Zoë opened the door and let herself in. Around her, birds were singing. There was no newspaper. She smiled at the thought of dinner as she kicked off her shoes.

Zoë only had dinner after the weather report. She avoided news on television. She headed over to check her messages.

Hi Zoë, it’s Meg. I’m back. We can catch up, but no hurry. OK, bye.

Hey Zoë, Rob. I’ve got Saturday and Sunday free. Coffee?

Johnny Lee here. I enjoyed the last date. I was going out on the weekend. To Manly. About 12. Free?

Her memory seemed blank for Johnny Lee. She enjoyed Rob and she would always call her sister. She decided for dinner.

‘Hi, Meg. How was Spain? I am exhausted, though.’

‘Then I shouldn’t keep you up. We should talk later. I’m exhausted myself. Even a sleeping pill didn’t work. OK, talk later.’

‘Hi Zoë, it’s Mark. Can you conference call tonight?’

‘We need some last stuff done for Thursday.’

‘It should only be half-an-hour.’

‘Provided all the connections come on at 12:00. Ha-ha.’

The false laughter mocked. The false laughter burnt her like an acid, oblivious to the fact she had no intention of getting along with the colleagues, who weren’t even in the country.

Beep, beep.

Thirty-two years of looking and now she had two to decide from. She turned back and opened the windows. Wind scattered the newspaper, today and yesterday’s, onto the floor. Recycling had to go out. Dishwasher emptied. She did both, cleaning everything in the machine, and could finally eat. She took off her glasses and watched the sun set.

She talked to Meg, who was back from Spain. You should have seen it. The key words resonated in Zoë’s mind. Zoë had travelled before, of course. She had been to New York at the beginning of winter, but just in time for the snow. Pushing onwards, she had caught the Amtrak to Boston. Small, isolated pocket towns in a frozen countryside. She took Walden with her, after someone at work recommend, she read it, but she never completed it. Things were too delightful outside. She turned West and saw in New Year’s at Santa Monica Pier. The train had crossed the country, that whole ethnically cleansed desert, without stopping. Johnny Lee was American, or practically American. He was Australian with a shifting voice, an accent of nowhere in particular. His face was slipping from her memory.

Work called and she had to listen. Zoë went to bed feeling like shit.

Zoë was tired. She had heard a scratching in the night. On closer inspection, it was a tree. She had looked again, and it something else. Branches like fingers moved in the wind, before breaking off and dropping to the ground. She scratcher her itchy skin. It felt itchy inside the flesh. Scratching under the eyes and flesh, she imagined the white lines were bones, and she was scratching all the way to the soul. There would be a fresh litter of dead leaves tomorrow. She remembered being a child and lying in a bed of them, hiding under them.

She got up feeling like an extra weight was with her. She sat all day at the computer, occasionally looking away as she answered the telephone and scrawled down what the voice on the other end commanded. All the while, whoever it was obliviously pulling Zoë out of a comfort zone, callously fine with her struggle. They went casually back to the comfort zone, and the shadows on the walls around Zoë grew larger and larger, the nights became darker and the feeling of grief stronger.

She did not have work to do the next night. The evening stretched out ahead, empty and free. Sydney Park stretched out before her. She could run or walk for over an hour, pausing to look for swans and look at all the dogs. Sydney Park was her favourite. She would walk there every day, but never at night. Told herself was being stupid, being foolish. So, she went there at night. It was well lit, and she would stick to the paths, running straight forward, not even glancing to the sides.

She had always loved quiet moments. She had been a quiet sort of student at school, flat as a plank when others developed, and rarely able to talk about boys. She had made up a boyfriend when others were actually talking to real ones. At other subjects, she had been practically invisible, the teachers said, contributing only when she felt sure she understood, or coming up out with a theory that fitted her own logic. She worked for herself, a teacher had said, and went off topic. Zoë had contended that it was she who was right, and that the lesson was stiff. After all, her logic always checked out, according to her.

She enjoyed her moments of invisibility, when she was out of the office and anonymous, running freely to her music. The path stretched and turned, past trees and over the river, where the swans paid no attention. At this point, the trees began and the dogs sniffing and playing seemed to end.

She came around the darkened corner and made to keep going around. She could only keep going around to the left-the path turned that way, but for once she was difference.

Her eyes turned to the right. Fat children sitting on the ground, giggling and laughing amongst themselves.

Pampered princes and princesses from the day they were born, bred by parents who raised cocky little monsters. Now they were treating the land that supported them with the respect they felt it deserved. A fat, stinking one, a rake-like thin one like a cliché duo, and in the middle was a girl, a Snow-White princess, as tough and angry as the boys around her. What was that around them? Drugs? Acid? Zoë ran by and kept running.

Found her body moving back to the scene. Her legs turned back. She would be rewarded, surely, for turning in this lot. Just get a description of them, that’s all, so you can alert the police when you get home. Don’t do anything else. Write a letter to the council about the urgent need for more lights.

Should have moved on.

‘You’ve got a nice Iphone, lady.’

Not here.

Should have ignored it.

Don’t do it. You’re not thinking straight. You’re tired. Move on. Walk on.

Who knows what they could do? Don’t say anything.

‘Excuse me.’ She said. ‘But you shouldn’t do that.’

Oh shit.

The fat kid looked up first. He took a step towards her.

Cut down by strangers, their blades slicing my skin and into my heart. Couldn’t see their faces, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. They sliced me down. I hear their breathing.

They talk to each other. Let’s drag her. Too heavy. Let’s hide her.

Cover my body with warm leaves and block the sun from my eyes. I don’t want the sun to greet me.

We can go anywhere. From lonely carnivals and amusement parks in the middle of nowhere to laugh at God and the Devil making fools of each other as they try to make fools of each other. I can be in your house, behind your curtains or up your chimney.

She lay in a solid white room. Her head felt tight: bandages. Was she alone? She was awake. She was alive, clearly. Nobody was around. Staff went by without looking. Cocky rich outsiders, those kids were, sons of wealthy types with good lawyers.

I have work. They would be expecting me.

She tugged at the blood bag cord and it came loose. She walked through a quiet hospital.

Shouldn’t there be noise? Where had her stuff gone?

‘Tell me where my clothes are!’ She shouted. ‘Hello?’

The city stretched out before her, a bustling plaything. Zoë found herself walking down the wind tunnel of Martin Place. She went through without catching the faintest breeze. The ticket gates at the station did not open for her, so she clambered over them.

Nobody notices people on trains. Zoë walked out of the station and became aware of the nature around her: The blades of grass, the sound of birds, the feeling of the sun. No people were aware of her. No animals. She found her way home and retrieved the spare key (third pot plant along, right side of house, just before the stairs), and opened the door. Someone walked out the back. Voices of other people.

I don’t know. Clothing is still here.

They’ll come pick it up soon.

If not, I can always call ahead for a Vinnie’s collection.

‘Hello!’ She shouted.

I was killed. Stop missing the point, girl!

Was she hungry? Was there power? Should she get rid of things that require cooking? She found her clothes and threw off the dirty gown. Picking up the telephone, she was almost ecstatic to have a connection.

Hi, this is Rob. Leave a message.

Damn. Another try.

Yeah, this is Johnny Lee? Who is it?

‘It’s me.’

Johnny Lee came over about seven, and she fell into his arms.

‘You died and I gave you a gift. Touch the eye, it blinds. Touch the ear, it deafens. Touch the heart…I just use the gun. You created me, your dream man, and that is what I give in return.’

‘I need to be alone.’ Zoë said. ‘With this disease, OK?’

‘Not a disease.’ Johnny Lee said. ‘Really more of a curse.’

‘An illness.’

‘Midas touch.’

‘Well, it’s a little late for help.’

Johnny Lee had never always been this way. He had once enjoyed humanity. Now, he smiled like the cat at a fish.

‘It was a rocky desert town, probably a Western town. No, no, it was Middle Eastern. Holy men came for me one day. They pick me, scratch me, assault me and leave my bones for dogs. But I got back up.’ He laughed.

‘I love you.’ She sighed.

‘I always life funny.’ He announced in the morning after making love, ‘Even as I fell, I was laughing. Especially at that bloody Gabriel.

She stared at him, and she sighed happily.

‘They chose my white dress. The one from California. Pretty white.’

‘I always prefer red and black.’ Johnny Lee smiled.

‘I’m not going with you.’ Zoë warned. ‘I’m very happy. All the trouble is gone.’

‘I understand.’ He replied. ‘Yes, well, you’re right. I assume you’re right.’

Zoë got up and left to give him time to get ready. She took the gun with her and came back in to find Johnny Lee finishing his drink.

Then she swung the barrel of the gun into her mouth.

‘To be sure.’ Zoë mumbled.

The devil played it cool.

‘It may not work.’

Zoë did not budge.

The devil tried to bargain.

‘You don’t know how to work that. It won’t work.’

Zoë removed it from her mouth.

‘It worked for you.’ She replied. ‘However long ago it was.’

‘Ford’s Theatre. But I’ve been to many other places.’

She put the gun back in her mouth.

‘I’m going to do my best.’ She said.

‘Wait.’ He suddenly said. ‘There’s one thing…I’m here because of you. I’m your dream man…’

There was a cracking noise, and Johnny Lee coughed.

He smiled. ‘See you.’

As she looked down at him, Zoë felt the pain now. His fatal wound was fatal to her. They had had such fun touching each other’s faces and turning off those senses that now she was losing it all.

She couldn’t do anything. She felt happy and sat down. The door opened, and in walked Rob.

‘Oh, God.’ He muttered.

‘It’s alright.’ She cooed. ‘I’m alright. But I’m tired.’

‘Me too.’ He replied. ‘Let’s finish.’

She smiled.

‘We’ll dance, just like we used to.’

They touched each other’s eyes for blindness, ears for deafness, and then they touched each other’s hearts, and fell against each other dead.

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ewharris · 2 years ago

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It's Thursday, unseasonably warm, unconscionably weird and I'm SURE you're wondering about the future. SPECIFICALLY the landscape of your weekend. Well, have I got news for you. @ejaneturn and I have solved one of your problems. This Sunday 2/19 at 7:15 PM (not too early not too late) We will BOTH be performing at the phenomenal @thescratchersessions. The entry is free. The suggested donation is limitless. The weather forecast is mild. The stars/ extraorbital sentient-made artifiacts have aligned AND I GUARANTEE it'll be 🔥 (or your money back pending approval from deep sea ancients) Anyway, come to the gig. It'll be fun. (at The Scratcher) https://www.instagram.com/p/CovL_04uK4d/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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forsworned · 3 years ago

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a mutually arranged attachment. (yoriichi tsugikuni x reader)

warnings » violence word count » 5.8k categories » f/m, multi chapters » one two three four five six seven eight

relationships » modern college student au! yoriichi tsugikuni x f!reader characters » yoriichi tsugikuni, uncle keshi (oc), kisho (oc) author’s note » ugh guys im so sorry i am finally approaching the end of my semester and i have these dumb ass finals so it was so hard to update this chapter !! i hope u enjoy and as always please feel free to give me feedback or leave some nice comments thanks!!

『© do not steal/repost my work w/o permission』『♡』 chapter six: deja vu

Sunday nights had always been the bane of your existence. The way you procrastinated all your assignments and did them at the very last minute was very on brand of you, but you quite literally just could not help it. You always contemplated if it would be easier to buy aderrall from your neighbor, but it somehow had always slipped your mind. You stared at your computer screen as your mind wandered off to him. You really couldn't help it. I mean just yesterday you and your friends were talking about how you're beginning a courtship and how you and Yoriichi had to have a conversation about it, but your phone has remained silent. He made no attempts of trying to contact you. It both relieved you and made you tense with anticipation. You wanted to text him and ask him what the fuck was up, but honestly? He needed to contact you first. It only made sense for him to, right?

Either way you were very much fighting the urge to text him what exactly was going on. He definitely owed you an explanation, but for now you were in Yoriichi purgatory and it was starting to feel like an eternity trapped in the unknown. You finished the last of your reflection and closed all your tabs which was relieving to say the least. It was always satisfying watching all of them getting deleted one by one knowing you were completely finished. You sighed as you got up to get ready to go to bed. You went to the bathroom and flicked the lights on and suddenly you had a eerie feeling that made the hairs on the back on your neck creep up. You tried to ignore it as you turned on the shower and stepped in letting the steamy water hit your skin, but even as you tried to scrub at your skin like you did your own thoughts the feeling wouldn't leave you. You felt like someone was watching you and you couldn't shake it.

It was as if your mind was playing tricks on you because you began to see shadows forming behind your shower curtains and you pulled them back quickly to see nothing there. You sighed as you pulled the curtains back to their original place and shook your head.

"You're okay, [name]." You muttered to yourself. You weren't sure who you were trying to reassure because it definitely wasn't yourself.

As you finished up, you could've sworn you heard something rustle in your room on the other side of the door, but you felt very done with being paranoid. You began your nightly routine of brushing your teeth and hair and washing your face and then you heard another noise and it was a bit louder this time. You felt your heart begin to beat against your chest as you applied your face lotion and rushed to put some clothes on just in case someone had broken into your apartment. If someone had managed to get in, how did you not hear it?

Millions of thoughts were rushing in your mind as you tried to find anything to defend yourself with. You silently cursed to yourself when you remembered your taser and pepper spray were in your bag that was on top of your bed.

"Perfect timing, [name]." You whispered frustrated at yourself. Your eyes scanned the room and they finally landed on the wooden back scratcher that Shinobu had gifted to you when her and her family went to Osaka last summer.

I guess this will have to do...

You secured your hair back with a hair claw and inserted a spare razor blade in between the spaces of hair that was pulled back just in case your attacker grabbed at your hair. You felt your throat dry up as you reached for the door handle and you opened it carefully checking the dimly lit room.

Of course, you only had your desk lamp on. It was dark in all the wrong corners of the room and you slowly emerged from the bathroom as you tightly clutched the wooden makeshift weapon. As soon as you felt the coast was mildly clear, you rushed to your bag on your bed to find your pepper spray and taser.

You dumped out the contents of your bag and your eyes landed on your pink and purple taser and pepper spray, but as your reached to grab it you felt someone cover your mouth and put you flush against their chest. The feeling of your heart dropping to your feet was enough to send you into fight or flight mode. You instinctively lifted your leg and centered it as best as possible to send it to your captors groin. The sound of them groaning was your signal to launch forward and grab your pepper spray. Without a second thought you began to spray at the shadowed figure.

"Fuck! [name]! Goddammit--stop!" You heard the shadowed figure whisper yell at they began to get up.

That voice...

"Yoriichi?!" You whispered back in disbelief. He slowly emerged out of the darkness and there he was low and behold, rubbing the pepper spray out of his eyes.

"Yeah, your pepper spray is a bit outdated."

"What--" You looked from him to your apparently useless pepper spray. "What the fuck are you doing in my room and how did you get in here?!"

Yoriichi opened his mouth to reply, but the sound of your doorknob jingling caused him to swiftly move behind you and bring you to the inside of your closet and quietly shut the door behind you both. His hand was now covering your mouth and you were flushed against his chest again. Can somebody say deja vu?

"Be very quiet and very still." His voice was just barely a whisper but it was perfectly clear to you.

You had no choice but to listen to him, yet again, but this time your mouth was covered instead of your eyes. You heard your door slowly open and your heartbeat was starting to quicken. The warmth of Yoriichi's hand was suddenly over yours as he squeezed it gently and began to trace patterns over your knuckles in what seemed like an attempt to calm you down. Luckily for him, it did.

It was still for a moment before you saw a shadow appear under the door and with one swift movement you were behind Yoriichi's back as the door opened. Your eyes widened as you saw the figure of a man who held a gun in his hand and the next thing you knew Yoriichi disarmed him and his fist connected with his jaw with such a force that it made the man collapse onto the ground. Blood splattered onto your wooden floors and you watched as the figure went limp against your bed post with a large thud. You could only stand there in disbelief as you examined the man who was now conscious on your floor.

You watched as Yoriichi took the man's pulse and pulled his dark shoulder length hair back to analyze his face. It was then that you realized that he looked like any other man that passed you on the street and that absolutely terrified you. You could be in danger at any moment of your life and it was all because you decided to go out one night with a guy you had a crush on. Some fucking luck you had.

"[name]." He looked up from the man who was laid up on the floor to your terrified state. He immediately got up to embrace you in his addicting embrace. "You're okay."

His hands were cupping your face and you were slightly brought back to reality. His hand was now over yours trying to loosen the fist you made over your chest. You hadn't noticed that you were clutching onto the pendant that hung around your neck.

"What the fuck just happened." Your voice was shaking and your lip trembled with fear.

"It's happening." Yoriichi spoke. His eyes were filled with such sorrow and concern for your well being. He never wanted this to happen. He was only moments away from you being--

He shook his head away from the thoughts that were about to consume him. All that mattered right now was that you were safe and he was there before anything happened to you.

It was your turn to go limp. He held you as you began to process everything that just happened. You could only stare at the man who was still on the floor.

"Yoriichi--I--I could've been dead or I don't know something really bad could've happened." Your fists were balled up into his hoodie. His hands were on yours again.

"But you're not. You're alive," He began but you turned your head away. He lifted his hand to gently make you face him. His maroon eyes were sincere as ever. It was so annoying how you were melting under his gaze when you really should've been angry with him. "I'm sorry for those things that I said to you."

Now he had your full attention (as if he already didn't by breaking into your room). His thumb caressed your cheek and you watched as he moistened his lips.

"I shouldn't have said that we shouldn't see each other anymore. I was just scared that it would happen again."

You held his hand with your own. "Of what happening again?"

You searched his face frantically for answer, but as he was finding the right words to say. The man who was once unconscious was towering over the both of you and you felt your life flash before yours for a moment, but before he could even raise his hand he was whacked upside the head with what looked like a wooden baseball bat. And just like that he was out like a light once again.

The bat whipped back to rest onto the shoulder of none other than yes, you guessed it (maybe), Uncle Keshi.

"You know, I know this is an emotional reunion and all, but you two would've been dead meat if I hadn't shown up when I did." Uncle Keshi's winning smile was one of the things that really made him who he was. Hell, his mugshot was literally him sporting the same exact smile.

"That's not true. I was ready." Yoriichi's hand was now on his waist.

You hadn't even noticed that he was armed himself. You swallowed hard as you began to think about how you were now officially a target.

Keshi was now crouched down looking at the man who was passed out again and reached under his shirt to pull out a dog tag. You could barely make it out but it looked like the image of a canine with gruesome looking teeth engraved into the metal and he flipped it over to see a nickname.

Keshi scoffed."K9, how original."

He gazed up from his position to see that you were still in Yorichii's arms. Your wet hair had dampened the shoulders of your crewneck and you looked like your eyes were about to fall out of your head. To say you were shaken up was an understatement.

"I know this is sudden, but you can't stay here anymore, kid. It's not safe." Keshi voiced as he opened his backpack to fish out some rope. He began to swiftly, yet expertly bind the man's arms and legs together.

"He's right, [name]. You can't stay here anymore." Yoriichi was facing you now. His arms holding you snug against him, but the words coming out of his mouth weren't making sense to you.

"What--? What do you mean? Why can't I stay here anymore?" Your voice was still trembling in fear. There wasn’t even a single part of your brain that could even process what was going on.

”You need to pack your things, kiddo.” Keshi stood up and he brushed off his hands and examined his handy work.

"Pack my--pack my things? What do you mean pack my things? I signed a 12 month lease for this place!!" To say you were panicking was an understatement.

Keshi sighed and shook his head and then put his hand on your shoulder. "Look it's already taken care of. The safest thing for you to do is pack the things you need and head over to Yoriichi's place."

What in the y/n?!

You looked from Keshi to Yoriichi and then began to laugh hysterically. They could not be serious. "You're kidding right?"

They both shared a look and your face dropped. "Oh my God, you're being serious. "

"[name]..." Yoriichi reached out to touch you but you brushed him as you shook your head.

"I just don't understand why you couldn't just tell me."

"It's...complicated." Yoriichi's eyes averted to the wood paneled floor. As much as you knew that you shouldn't have, you still felt somewhat betrayed and upset at Yoriichi. Yes, it was indeed complicated but it would've been smarter to actually tell you straight up instead of you asking an Ex-Yakuza offspring about what the hell you got yourself wrapped up in.

"I'm sorry for how this all turned out, but this isn't on Yoriichi." Keshi finally spoke up as he threw the unconscious man over his shoulder. "Pack what you can and then we'll be sure to get everything later."

As Keshi left the same way he came, you felt yourself starting to lose your breath as you collapsed onto your bed. The room began to feel like it was spinning and like something was sucking the life out of you. The feeling was familiar and suffocating.

"[name], swallow your spit. It helps." You heard Yoriichi's worried voice as he held you in his arms. Yoriichi could sense that you were having a full blown panic attack and he wanted to do anything and everything to remedy that. "I know this sounds insane, but this is exactly what I wanted to keep you away from. You have every right to be upset, but please trust me. I want--I need to protect you. I didn't want to choose this life for you, but my parents..."

"I know. Well, kind of." You spoke abruptly as you swallowed your spit as best as you could. You didn't want to exactly out Tengen, but this conversation was already two days over due.

He looked at you slighlty confused. "What do you mean you know? What do you know?"

You didn't look at him as you spoke. "I know your family is apart of the Yakuza and that the anniversary was the revival of the Hanafuda." You snuck a peep at Yoriichi who looked down at you incredulously. "And that by me coming with you to the party is also officiating our courtship."

The last part was quieter, but it was loud as ever to Yoriichi. He did plan on telling you everything when you finally got settled into his place, but it still was shocking hearing it from you considering that he had no idea how you knew any of that. Well, he did actually have an idea who could've told you, but right now he had to work on getting your most important things in a suitcase and out of there.

"We can talk about this when you're no longer in any danger." Yoriichi finally mustered up. He brushed the side of your face with his hand as he looked at you. You felt like you were under his spell again, but what else was new.

"Let's pack the things you need."

* * *

The car ride to Yoriichi's mystery apartment felt unnecessarily long. It was only five miles away from campus but the amount of turns that he had made was making you car sick. The only thing that was keeping you from hurling out the window was Yoriichi's hand ontop of yours, tracing patterns on the top of your hand like he did before he molly-whopped the guy who broke into your apartment.

You could barely pay attention to roads that led to what was supposedly your new home. Lines and lines of trees covered the side of the road until suddenly you were met with a well lit building that looked like it was bulky and slightly gritty and grey on the outside. It didn't look like much, but you heard about buildings like these. If it was what you thought it was. There was only about 30 or less tenants because the rooms inside were insanely huge and each tenant was a billionare or close to it.

Yoriichi noticed how you sat up almost instantly as you eyed the building with your full attention. He wanted to feel happy that you were finally with him again, but the target that practically painted on the back of your head was disturbing him like the ringing in your ear when you listen to loud music; it was constant and nagging at him, but he couldn't turn down the noise in his head if he wanted to. As pulled up to the gated area, he greeted the security guard and scanned his fingerprint to let himself in. The courtyard looked what you could muster up in one word--expensive.

It wasn't the tacky kind of expensive. It was the quiet kind of rich. There was elegant flowers you had no idea the names of but they were pretty and pale pink lining the pathway to the building. The lighting was bright enough for you to see every inch of it and that made you feel somewhat safe considering that you were a walking target.

It was a little hard not to be flabbergasted by such high security, but Yoriichi's mind was way too preoccupied to entertain that right now. As the car reached the parking garage, you noticed that he had a parking spot with his name on it. A large beautifully detailed white koi fish was painted on the concrete. You sat silently as he opened his door and unloaded your things out of the trunk. It wasn't until now that you noticed how sleek and pretty the interior of the car was since you had entered it in the dead of night and the road your now former apartment was on had few lights.

Yoriichi opened your passenger door and ducked his head to peep at you. "Let's head inside."

His voice was even and calm. Even in a situation as shitty as this he had managed to keep you mostly undisturbed. You only nodded as you exited the car and you finally caught a glimpse of it. It was jet back and just as sleek and sexy as the inside was. The front of the vehicle sported a silver mustang and the top of the car had a removeable roof. It was very fitting to him.

"Nice car." You said breaking the silence.

A small smile crept onto his perfect lips. "Thanks. It's a 1969 Ford Mustang."

"Honestly, I know nothing about cars, but it suits you." You replied as he scanned his fingerprint again to open the door for you. The pleasant smell of eucalptyus hits your nose.

"Oh yeah, how's that?"

You stayed quiet for a moment as you walked down the long halls. It was brightly lit and the walls were lined with crisp white paint that looked like it was always kept in pristine condition. The floors in contrast were black wooden panels that were laid down to perfection and not a single one was out of place.

"It's..." You thought for a moment how you would respond to him as you finally reached the tall elevator doors and held his finger print to the pad in front of him and hit the the up button. "...dark and mysterious and pretty sexy."

You didn't know exactly why you felt the need to say something so unhinged, but honestly the night had already felt unreal and dreamlike, so why not add to the chaos?

Yoriichi had seemed pretty taken aback as he gawked at you with slightly tinted red cheeks. He hadn't expected you out of all people to say something so bold (and not controversial at all). Before he could open his mouth the elevator doors had opened and a doorman had greeted him.

"Good evening, Yoriichi, [name]. Everything is ready." He spoke as he bowed. You noticed that the man looked a lot more rugged than the average doorman. He had a scar over his left eye and tattoos were peaking under his collar shirt and around the endges of his exposed forearms from rolling up his sleeves. It wasn't until you saw that he was wearing a Hanafuda necklace that it had finally clicked.

"Thank you, Kisho." Yoriichi bowed back and you did the same as you murmured a 'thank you". Kisho gave you a small smile and it made you feel a little more comfortable in this unknown building.

You could tell that there was an immense level of trust and respect from both parties being that there was so much comfort from the way that they had addressed each other like old comrades. If you could guess, Kisho was probably in his mid-thirties, but he looked just slightly older than Yoriichi.

As Yoriichi pressed the the button on the elevator doors they began to close,and suddenly the large space in the elevator felt very small. It wasn’t exactly awkward but it also wasn’t the most comfortable. Little did you know, he thanked God that Kisho was already in the elevator because part of him knew that he would be stumbling over his words Yoriichi couldn’t quite think straight after your certain choice of wording when he was conversing with Kisho about current events, but he didn't show any signs of being distraught.

You didn't feel rejected at all knowing that you were only here due to the fact that something romantic was budding between the both of you and well, more over the obvious fact that you two were kinda technically engaged to him at the moment minus the ring. It was just a little confusing to see how well put together he was after looking so flustered. I mean you weren't lying about how you felt, but maybe it was a bit too unhinged. You felt a little satisfaction knowing that you made him a little uncomfortable given the events that had occured no thanks to him.

You remained quiet as you slightly fidgeted your feet noticing that one of shoes were untied. As you bent over to tie them, the elevator doors finally opened and you had to take a double take when you finally looked up. You couldn't believe what you were looking at. You didn't even know ceilings could even be that high. The only ones that you ever laid eyes on were ones in magazines or online news articles about celebrities living in crazy penthouses, but this was something completely out of any celebs league.

The large window panels that made up most of the living room had an amazing view of the city. The night just happened to clear enough to see the waning moon in the sky. You hadn't even noticed how you were slowly walking towards the window until you almost tripped over a piece of furniture. You held onto the soft material of the couch and it felt, expensive.

You slowly retracted your hand and looked around in shock at how utterly breathtaking it was. Your eyes immediately went the middle of the room where it was the most vibrant which was the conversation pit that gave it a rich retro look. Conversation pits weren't very common due to people reverting to electronics over having face to face communication. Which was reasonable, in today's day and age most people had abnormally high levels of anxiety, stress and depression, but something about the feel of this room was just homey. The pit was in the form of a circle and the couches were jet black suede with various fun patterns and colored pillows that matched the couches' aethestic. The fire place in the middle gave it a cozier look.

You suddenly imagined yourself and Yoriichi sitting together sharing coffee with a large cable knit blanket drapped over your backs, but then your eyes landed on the carpet. The koi fish had made another guest appearance in a ying yang design. And the icing on cake? The largest Hanafuda banner you've ever seen hanging on the opposite end of the room. Could it get any more Yakuza than this?

You noticed that there was no television set up in that area, but rather it was in the kitchen that looked like it was built for the best of the best of chefs. And the more you looked around the more and more envious you were becoming. You really hadn't mean to, but just knowing that Yoriichi was living such a fine lifestyle while you paying off your rent with student loans. The way that his uncle had just said everything was taken over had replayed in your head.

"Yeah, I can see what he meant by that now." You murmured to yourself as you walked aimlessly around the room looking at the various mod and psychdelic decor.

You finally landed yourself in front of a beautifully lit aquarium that was to the left of the pit. You were completely entranced by the coral reef that covered most of the bottom of the tank with what seemed like a few handfuls of beautiful fish. A Discus fish had caught your eye and you watched as it swam past the other fish and then rested ontop of a small fragment of everlasting...everlasting...

"It's called everlasting gobstopper." Yoriichi's soft yet deep voice had suddenly spoke up to the right of you. You didn't look at him, instead you simply analyzed it even closer. It indeed did look like gobstoppers, but with tendrils like flowers and loads of them clustered together.

"Right...I was trying to think of the last part of it. Gobstopper. They're beautiful." You finally looked at him. He looked like he had lived 10 lives in one day. His had was a disheveled mess much thanks to the chaos that ensued earlier. You were now feeling a little guilty for teasing him earlier, but it's not like you were lying.

"They are..." His eyes tore away from the tank to you. His maroon gaze was burning into yours as he took your chin between his fingers to tilt upwards to him. You felt your heart starting to leap out of your chest again. "...just like you."

You took it back. You no longer felt bad for teasing him.

He stood still as he searched your face, but you felt apprehensive under his intense gaze. From the moment a small smirk formed on his lips you knew he was trying to get back at you for teasing him earlier. He brushed his index finger across your cheek as he spoke up again.

"I should wash up and you should dry your hair off. We can either talk when I'm out of the shower or tomorrow or whenever you're comfortable. I know this is all crazy and it'll take awhile to adjust." He stepped a little closer, closing the space between you two and it was the same atmosphere that you two had created that night when he was about to kiss you before you went inside. "I'm here for you, [name]. And not just because we're well..."

He averted his eyes for a moment thinking to choose his words carefully. "...Technically engaged at the moment."

He let out a sigh before returning his gaze to you again. "I really am here for you. I'm going to protect you at any cost. It was unfortunate that you were forceably put into this situation, but I'll make it as bearable as I can."

You returned his warmth by placing your hand on top of his and smiled at him. He visibly relaxed at your reaction. "You make it sound like I don't even like you."

"I wouldn't be surprised if by now you didn't." He chuckled, as he took your hand in his and brought it up to his. He lightly kissed the knuckle of your index finger and you felt goosebumps starting to rise as you stared at his lips just barely connecting to your skin. You swallowed dryily and yes dryily because he was making you feel real thirsty.

You cleared your throat and looked to the wooden paneled floor. "Well, I don't so...so just take your shower."

He smiled as he took your hand in his leading you to the hallway. "I'll show you to your room."

You simply followed him as he escorted you down a long open hallway that was fusuma style with gold traditionally painted japanese dragons lining the walls. It had a similar look to what you could remember from the office. Your inner thoughts had come to a stop as he slid fusuma door open and right in front of your eyes was another easter egg. The room was tatami style with the same larger than life window panels and in the center closer to the windows was a platform bed with your name on it. Not literally, but you were beginning to feel tired just looking at it and now it was yours.

He walked into the room and you noticed that your luggage was placed neatly and untouched in the corner of the room. Kisho must have left them in your room as you were poking around and dipped out immediately.

You watched as Yoriichi opened the bathroom light on and it looked like a bath house.

"This is unnecessarily huge." You said looking around. And it was. The bathtub looked like it could hold at least seven people and the shower appeared almost as if there was no glass separating it from the rest of the room. It even had a little bench to sit on. If you were being honest the thing you actually liked most was the fact that the toilet was in a seperate room.

"Everything about this place is unnecessarily huge." He retorted as he took a gander at the room making sure it was clean enough for you to be in.

"You can say that again."

You both shared a look before breaking out into laughter. Yoriichi sighed as it died down.

"I know it must look like a I'm some spoiled rotten brat, but I really wanted something more quaint and lowkey. I envy or well, envied your apartment. My dad says it's for security purposes, but I think it's way too lavish for my liking." He shoved his hand into his pockets as he leaned back against the sink.

"Envy? Me?" You inquired as you looked around, gesturing to the room. "You're joking."

"Yes, I prefer something like--" It was his turn to gesture his hands out to the room. "Less like this."

You scoffed. "Rich people problems, man."

He chuckled as he pushed off from the sink. "It can get tiresome."

"Cry me a river."

He didn't reply to snarky remark. Instead, he opened up a drawer to reveal many hair styling tools that included a blow dryer. "Blow dryer, etc."

Another drawer below. "Skincare..."

And he went on and on as he showed you where everything you needed was. You felt touched that he had prepared so much for you. It was like your own little slice of heaven.

"You good?"

You nodded as you sucked your bottom lip in. "Kinda. I think it'll take a while before I get used to anything though."

"I know. Like I said, everything will be okay." He walked to you and suddenly enveloped your body with his sturdy arms. "I'll be back in like 15 minutes. Is that okay?"

Forget about the bathroom. His scent was your solace. Because even despite kicking ass, he still managed to smell so good. It wasn't the first time you smelled him, but for some reason it was the first time you actually really paid special attention to it. It was a little smoky, yet velvetly like sandalwood and veviter. A combination of woody and spicy and it was addicting.

"Okay." You breathed, but it sounded a bit too moan-like for your liking, which in turn made you panic a little inside. You could feel Yoriichi stiffen a little as pushed back a little too quickly and he half turned so that you didn't think he was in a rush to leave, but boy was he in a rush to leave.

"Alright, uh, I'll see you then." His voice was a letting hoarse as he walked towards the door not looking at you and closed it behind him. You stood there with your mouth covered with your hand.

"Oh my God. What the hell is wrong with me?" You whisper shouted as you looked into the mirror. What was even more shocking was how you looked like total utter shit. Your hair was a fucking mess and half damp. It soaked part of your shirt and your dark circles were even deeper than you recall.

You groaned as you slapped your forehead. "How fucking embarrassing."

You shook your head as you opened one of the drawers and took out one of the brushes and began to make it look a more manageable and less messy. You finally dried your hand until it looked good enough. As you exited the bathroom and replayed how Yoriichi had left so abruptly. And with good reason!

You hadn't even meant to do that, but it slipped out and now you had to talk to him in the next ten minutes or so. You sighed as you ran a hand through your hair and took out your cellphone from your pocket. Surprisingly, you had no new notifications. You remembered that Shinobu had gone out of town with her family to Osaka and Mitsuri had a hot date with a dude who carried a snake around.

Bzz.

A snap from Mitsuri lit up your screen and you unlocked your phone to open it as you sat down onto your futon. As you tapped on the red square by Mitsuri's name, a picture of her and her snake boy toy looking extra cozy came into your view. It made you smile instantaneously. You immediately snapped her back and replied with:

『 Too freakin' cute,, hope ur enjoying ur night <3 』

You quickly sent it out and sighed as you locked your phone. There was no way you were telling anyone anything tonight and you really didn't fucking want to. Honestly, all you wanted to do was fall asleep and pretend like none of this had happened, but you knew you couldn't. Sleep was only a temporary safety blanket that feign shielded you from the dangers outside of your new penthouse.

You fell back against the mattress. How the hell were you even going to explain this? You were sure that your family wouldn't take this too well, but being that they lived in America they didn't really need to know what you were up to into Japan, right?

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imnotwolverine · 4 years ago

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The head scratcher

Henry Cavill x reader fluff

Author’s note: It’s Sunday. So, time for some lazy Sunday Henry fluff. ❤️

Word count: 588

‘Hen?’ You sat up from your cosy little spot on the couch, Henry’s sweater swallowing most of you. The afternoon sun was crawling in as lazily as you were, the both of you hanging out on the couch with books in both your laps. Henry looked up from his page, the fantastical story instantly forgotten as he saw you bite your lip in that cute kind of way.

‘What is it…kitten?’ His lips offered you a hungry little grin.

‘No, no. Not that.’ You rolled your eyes, ‘I eh.. actually..eh..’ You smiled. ‘..close your eyes!’

‘What?’ Henry’s brows furrowed in confusion. No sexy time?

‘Close them!’ You hopped off the couch and made his ears tweak to catch the sound of you opening one of the cupboards.

‘This better not be one of your “little experiments”.’ He turned his face towards you, eyes still dutifully closed.

‘Hen! Trust me. No make-up involved WHAT-SO-EVER this time.’ You withheld a chuckle as you crawled onto the backrest of the couch, legs hooking over his shoulders.

‘Somehow I don’t tru— mmmm.’

Spidery steel tickled through his out-of-bed hair, immediate shivers running up his spine as his lips curled in satisfaction. ‘Oh that’s nice babe.’

‘Sshhh.’

He leaned his head back into the embrace of your legs, his eyes remaining shut as his face turned up just enough so you could see him surrender to the head-scratcher in your hand, your fingers pushing and twisting it through the curls he was growing back out again.

‘You don’t have to..’ He murmured, but one click of your tongue was enough to silence him, his lips broadening with mirth.

‘Just ..’ The metal brushed past the base of his skull, ‘..enjoy..’ You pulled it back up, making him visibly shudder, ‘..it.’

A few minutes passed like this. Henry leaning into you, and you just sitting there on the back of the couch, watching as little shivers and smiles crawled over his relaxed face.

‘Okay big bear.’ You carded a hand through his soft curls.

‘Bear?’

He didn’t respond, his eyes still closed and lips curled in a lazy smile.

Did he fall asleep?

You watched his eyelids, the dimples in his cheeks, anything that would give away that he was just pretending. But he wasn’t. A deep, deep inhale made his chest rise, his head falling slightly to the side. You smiled. Oh bear!

Being as careful as possible you slid away from your position, making sure his head hit the pillow next to him, your hands tugging at his feet to get his log sized legs up, making him stretch out long on the couch.

‘Mmm..’ He hummed, awakening from his slumber.

‘Sshh..you fell asleep. Just relax.’ You brushed a hand through his hair again, enjoying the way he nuzzled the pillow a little before he sighed, drifting back into dreamland.

Oh bear!

You stood up, wishing to go get a throw to get him even more comfortable, but a hand around your leg stopped you.

‘Join.’ He patted the little spot before him; hardly big enough to fit, but it’d have to do. Sniffling in amusement you crawled in before him, his arm instantly around you, pulling you to his chest like you were his favourite toy, his slow heart beat thrumming into your ear. His nose now nuzzled your hair as he took yet another deep breath.

‘Best two bucks spent..ever.’ He hummed, making you smile as you too felt a certain drowsiness pull you into slumberland.

Sundays were perfect like this.

General Tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss @tumblnewby @magdelen69 @thereisa8ella @mary-ann84 @darkbooksarwin @summersong69 @madbaddic7ed @luclittlepond @maroonmolly @tillthelandslide @just-a-normal-fangirl18 @hell1129-blog

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x reader #fluff #quick sunday drabble

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vs-redemption · 3 years ago

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Hiii! For your Spooky Sunday...

-Obvi it's going to be me and Todoroki. :p

-I like dressing up with matching costumes, but I won't go crazy if we don't. I usually like to choose something that people can recognize, such as Scarlet Witch or a female version of Thor.

-The scary movies we watch would be Paranormal Activity, The Conjuring, or IT. But I might end up getting scared after because I'd be afraid of having dreams about it when I go to bed, so I may not let Todoroki go. >.>

-Decorating my house is a mix of both cute and scary Halloween stuff or whatever I can find. No set theme, just anything Halloween or even Fall related, I'll hang it up. Could be a cute little blow up pumpkin at the front of the house or a bloody vampire hanging from the ceiling.

-Definitely would love to carve my pumpkin as something scary. I love to do pumpkin carving with friends/family, especially my younger cousins so we'll be spending time with them. When we're done, we'll line up our pumpkins and take a picture so every year, we'll have something to look back on.

-Other Fall activities I'd love to do with Todoroki is apple picking. :) I think it'd be a nice change of scenery. It would also make great background pics, especially with the changing of the leaves. We could also try out new apple recipes. If they're good enough, I'd love to share it with our friends and his family.

-I'd beg Todoroki to come with me to those amusement haunted houses or ghost tours despite me knowing that I tend to jump or scream when something scares me. Especially if they pop out of nowhere. But hey, more reason for me to hold onto Todoroki. ;)

I wanna start by saying Todoroki + Halloween is always an amusing concept to me. He just seems like he'd be so unsure about all of it. Like, people putting themselves into scary situations on purpose for entertainment... a real head scratcher for him. He doesn't really get it, but he goes along with it because he's curious and likes to see the people he cares about having fun.

I like the idea of marvel costumes with him because it's something he can relate to (being a hero). He would certainly wear whatever you asked him, but something like a vampire or werewolf would just be a little awkward.

Todoroki watches scary movies and goes to haunted attractions with you without hesitation. He'd never really get scared, but he does startle at the jump scare stuff. Even though he doesn't like seeing you afraid, he does enjoy the fact that you look to him for safety. Having you close and holding onto his arm isn't so bad either :)

Thanks for sharing your headcanons!! I love them!! ♥

#Belle💖#Best Moot Squad #Spooky Sunday #Shoto Todoroki #Halloween

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soniabigcheese · 4 years ago

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Well ... this is a head scratcher indeed, and takes me right back to school when I was being bullied, yet the minute I struck back (swung my bag at the bully) I was the one being blamed for starting the fight?!?!?!

We have a mobile shelving unit that has designated boxes for each room. Had it for around about 8 years and I'm the only one who fills it up and takes it around when putting clean laundry away. The only place it doesn't go, is in the lift. It is too long, but I had a workaround for that issue.

Anyways, in 8 years of using this trolley thingy, not once have I had any accidents or incidents at all. I time it so that everyone is at lunch so the coast is clear, thus reducing any possibility of running into a resident.

And yet, on Sunday just gone, I managed to bruise my back ... twice ... Once when the floor space was drastically reduced in the laundry and it was a tight squeeze to get in and out, without bringing the shelving unit into play.

And the second time, when a fairly large and cumbersome hoist was left in the very narrow corridor instead of being put away safely.

Yet, when I make a complaint .... I'm the one who is a liability. Huh? Okay

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david452 · 4 years ago

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10 Takeaways From A Big, Weird Night

The 2021 Grammys somehow survived a COVID-inspired six-week delay, not to mention angry diatribes from The Weekend, and put together a seamless, entertaining, music-packed telecast that also proved utterly, bafflingly infuriating. How can all that be true? Read on!

1. The broadcast itself was a triumph. Give huge amounts of credit to executive producer Ben Winston, making his Grammys debut: His telecast moved breezily across multiple stages, cut past years' fat and much of the filler, highlighted a huge and diverse array of music and allowed the performers to be showcased at their best. A typical Grammys telecast has terrific highs and embarrassing lows, but Sunday night's performances were too proficiently and elegantly produced to allow for train wrecks. After a jumbled, clunky, Zoom-intensive Golden Globes telecast just a few weeks earlier, Winston showed the world how it's done.

2. The awards themselves? Hoo boy. You could see it coming, yet it still felt shocking: The Grammys took a moment, upon handing Beyoncé the 28th Grammy of her world-class career, to acknowledge that she'd just surpassed Alison Krauss for the most Grammys ever awarded to a female artist. (Watch your back, Georg Solti!) Unacknowledged in that moment was that Beyoncé has a long history of getting passed over for the major awards of the night; she has never won record of the year or album of the year, and she won song of the year only once, in 2010, for "Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)." Scan a list of the Grammys that Beyoncé has won, and note the number of times the modifier "R&B" appears.

So, when the time came to award the night's final prize, it had to be Megan Thee Stallion and Beyoncé's "Savage," right? Megan had already won best new artist; "Savage" had already won best rap performance and best rap song; Beyoncé's "Black Parade" had already won best R&B performance, and her "Brown Skin Girl" had already won best music video (which means that Beyoncé's 9-year-old daughter, Blue Ivy Carter, now has her first Grammy). Billie Eilish, for her part, had won only best song written for visual media, for "No Time to Die." But record of the year went to Eilish, who spent much of her speech apologizing to Megan Thee Stallion for winning.

With no disrespect intended toward Eilish, who handled the situation well, that's the Grammys for you: They make progress; they make adjustments; they get your hopes up; they pull the football away at the last minute.

3. The call for boycotts will get louder. In the runup to this year's Grammys, The Weeknd announced that he'd never submit his music for Grammys consideration again after the Recording Academy failed to so much as nominate him for his blockbuster album After Hours. Beyoncé attended but didn't perform, and she seemed to expend as little energy as possible on the whole affair. The Grammys have a long history of snubbing Black artists at inopportune moments — see, for a notorious example, Macklemore & Ryan Lewis beating Kendrick Lamar in the awards' 2014 hip-hop categories — and patience is wearing thin.

4. It was a mixed bag for the big winners. Many observers expected the night to be yet another coronation for Taylor Swift, whose album Folklore earned her six Grammy nominations and some of her best reviews. But Swift went 0 for 5 to start, only to take album of the year near the end of the telecast. Eilish, who famously dominated last year's awards, hadn't made much of a splash during the rest of the evening. In both cases, the big wins sneaked up on them.

5. There was better news in the down-ballot races. While it was a shame to see Phoebe Bridgers go 0 for 4, Megan Thee Stallion was the clear and correct pick for best new artist (though it was kind of a head-scratcher when she wasn't nominated in that category last year). Fiona Apple, inexplicably shut out of nominations in the major categories, won best rock performance (for "Shameika") and best alternative music album (for Fetch the Bolt Cutters). H.E.R. took song of the year for "I Can't Breathe," a resonant and powerful track. Kaytranada became the first Black musician to win best dance/electronic album in the category's 17-year history — an outrageous milestone, given the genre's origins, but a milestone nonetheless.

6. Get ready for a tiresome new front in the culture wars! Last year, Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion released one of the filthiest songs ever to top the Billboard Hot 100, and "WAP" made its Grammys debut in grandly transgressive, explosively entertaining fashion. Rest assured that "cancel culture" and Dr. Seuss and Mr. Potato Head are gonna have to make room on some conservative fainting couches, possibly by the time you read this.

7. Somehow, against all odds, none of the performances truly stank. This particular kind of showcase — with careful stage management, good sound mixes, a blend of live and pre-taped moments, many stages to accommodate set changes and so on — allowed artists to do their best work. This was the 3 1/2-hour music-industry infomercial the Grammys craved, and the beneficiaries included both the musicians themselves and a home audience that has been starving for live music.

8. The Grammys didn't forget struggling venues. Without turning into a telethon or slowing down the broadcast, the show did a nice job spotlighting a few of the many music venues whose long-term survival has been threatened by the coronavirus pandemic. It was refreshing to see the Recording Academy understand that its industry's success hinges on not only streaming and sales but also the return of live music and the venues that make it possible.

9. Trevor Noah deserves more praise than you might think. The Daily Show host maintained a fairly low-key presence throughout the night — he didn't preside over any skits, and his monologue was limited to a few quick jokes — but he did a deft job moving the home audience through a complicated hunk of awards-show machinery. Awards-show hosting gigs are generally thankless, and he made a hard job look easy.

10. Finally, it can't be reiterated enough: The Grammys still have a lot of work to do. It's not a matter of saying, "If Beyoncé or Kendrick Lamar put out a great record in 2021, it has to win album of the year." It's that the Grammys are not trusted, period, by wide swaths of their audience and membership, and any effort to correct that needs to start there. They have to create trust.

That trust can come only through transparency about their process, their membership and their efforts to better reflect their industry and its massive worldwide audience. The Grammys' typical response to controversies tends to involve artist-specific attempts to redress previous years' grievances; that's part of how Metallica wound up winning eight Grammys across six different years after infamously losing best metal performance to Jethro Tull in 1989.

The issue isn't that Beyoncé should have won album of the year in 2015 over Beck's Morning Phase or that Lemonade should have won album of the year in 2017 over Adele's 25, though both of those outcomes were — with no shade thrown at either winner — hard to stomach. The issue is that it's getting harder for the Grammys to keep on like this without facing a large-scale revolt from the artists whose buy-in they need in order to retain a semblance of relevancy.

#grammys #covid #takeways #zoom #weird night

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kmsherrard · 4 years ago

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In praise of roller coaster rides

“...the thousand concurring accidents of such an audacious enterprise….”

-Herman Melville, Moby Dick

Despite what teachers of high school science classes solemnly intone, this business of doing science is the least straightforward endeavor that can possibly be imagined. This was brought home to me in a series of unfortunate events that unfolded this week.

At first, it seemed to be that rare triumph where my simple test of a straightforward prediction actually yielded a clear positive result, instead of the more typical back-to-the-drawing board head-scratcher. If this were a story, that the protagonist was a protein named Diaphanous could serve as a hint that the plot would not prove as solid as one might hope. (Like many genes first discovered in fruit flies, Diaphanous evokes the appearance of animals lacking a functional version of that protein).

The backstory: Lately, my research has been on how stress fibers remodel to accommodate the movements of migrating cells. But as I work on cells in intact tissues, namely the rind of follicular cells that envelops the developing cluster of cells that give rise to a fruit fly egg, I like to consider the natural experiments that unfold in the course of normal development. For example, these follicle cells migrate for a time, going round and round like hamsters running on a wheel, but then they stop and do other things, like flatten out and secrete the eggshell. They still have stress fibers—these are long contractile bundles of a similar composition to muscle, that help attach the cells to the fibrous surface outside them. But these later-stage stress fibers are much stouter and of somewhat different composition.

I had already established that the stress fibers in the migrating cells depend on an unusual partner, amusingly called DAAM, to form. The more typical protein to help build stress fibers is DAAM’s cousin Diaphanous, but I’d done experiments depleting Diaphanous that clearly showed it was not needed in this case. When I depleted DAAM, though, the stress fibers got really wispy. Oddly enough, I’d noticed that in the much later stages, after the cells stopped migrating, had stress fibers unaffected by loss of DAAM.

So the experiment I wanted to do next was to deplete Diaphanous in the later stages. This was not completely straightforward to execute, though, because I had to avoid depleting it too early. I’d already seen that this caused cells to have trouble with their normal round of cell divisions. It’s a common problem in this sort of work that it can be harder to study later processes if you mess things up before they have begun to happen. The solution makes use of the dazzling array of tissue-specific drivers of gene expression that have been invented for fruit flies. They allow you to drive expression of a gene at specific times and places, targeting particular processes you want to study. To keep a gene from being expressed, you can use something called RNAi, which basically makes a cell chop up the instructions for making a protein sent from the DNA so that protein does not get produced.

In short, I needed a driver that acted late in the follicle cells but not early. Our lab did not have such a driver, since we study the earlier stages. But we’d read a paper with some very clever experiments that made use of just such a late driver, one called Cy2. We requested the fly stock from one of the paper’s authors and she promptly mailed it off to us. Fly researchers are awesomely generous. It’s a tradition that goes back to the earliest days of the field over a century ago to share reagents this way.

Chapter the First: Quarantine. The flies arrived and had to be put in quarantine, out of an abundance of caution concerning the possible introduction of mites into our hundreds of lab stocks. In practice, this consists of isolating the vials on the top of the lab refrigerator. All stocks that arrive from elsewhere must be taken through quarantine, save those from the renowned and very reliably mite-free Bloomington stock center. It meant a delay to the start of my planned experiment, until I could obtain 3rd instar larvae and wash them, a rather amusing exercise on which I have previously posted.

So there the flies sat, two healthy vials with clearly written labels: Cy2/(Cyo); Dr/TM6b. This cryptic shorthand conveyed that along with the driver I’d asked for, the flies conveniently included markers on another chromosome, in case I wanted to build more things into the stock. Annoyingly, they were all senescent adults and developing pupal cases—ideal for surviving the mailing process, but the worst possible stage of colony development for obtaining sufficient larvae for my purposes. I would have to wait several weeks for the new generation to produce larvae I could wash.

In pre-covid times, I could have done the cross right away with existing males, dissecting the offspring on a quarantine-use microscope belonging to a neighboring lab. Normally we share a lot of equipment freely in our department. But the physical distancing requirements have temporarily stopped that sort of thing. And we can’t risk getting mites onto the equipment we use for all our normal work.

To shorten the waiting time (a frequent concern of fruit fly researchers, especially I would think those of us who work on adult rather than embryonic or larval structures, meaning our crosses must extend to the full 10+ days of development time beyond any stock-building that precedes it), I planned to wash enough larvae to siphon off a number of males for the experimental cross. To that end, I also began “blowing up” the stocks I would obtain the females from; I could virgin them ahead of time and have them all ready to go as soon as their husbands emerged from their pupal cases.

When you’re waiting to wash a quarantine stock, impatient for the experiment to begin, they seem to take longer to develop, much like a watched pot. The stock contained the mutation Tubby, which makes for shorter flies but a longer developmental time, so that was part of it. Also room temperature (on top of the fridge) slows development compared to the flies’ optimal temperature of 25 C (that’s 77 to your Fahrenheiters...and to be honest, most of us American scientists are very compartmentalized in their understanding of Celsius; outside of the lab context we speak it no better than the average U.S. citizen). So far, then, the slowness makes sense both physical and psychological. But why the quarantined flies should always produce their burst of 3rd instar larvae on a weekend day, and on the one weekend day I don’t pop into the lab, is more puzzling. But it is the rule, I have found.

I wasn’t going to let it happen this time. I watched them like a hawk (a mosquito hawk?) and sure enough, it was a Sunday when all the larvae began to wander. Wandering larvae is the other, more romantic name for the 3rd instar of Drosophila melanogaster, because they have at last eaten their fill of the mushy rotten fruit they have been burrowing through, and there is nothing else for them to do but come out into the light and air and begin to claim their inheritance as winged creatures of the sky. First, though, they must choose a spot in which to prepare their new bodies. Here in that lab, they climb around on the clean walls of the vial, above the caramel-colored dollop of food, fat, juicy larvae as big as a good-sized grain of rice, big enough to grasp gently in forceps and take through the three ritual baths, soapy water, ethanol, and salty water, that remove any lurking mites or mite eggs from their surfaces. After being placed in a fresh vial and wicked dry with a twist of Kimwipe (lab Kleenex), they will crawl around a bit more, mingling with their certified-mite-free compatriots. In a few more hours they will settle down, stop moving, and let their skins harden into bark. Inside that bark, they pretty much dissolve themselves, save for a few set-aside clusters of cells. They go on to rebuild their bodies into the adult form, complete with intricate jointed legs and multitudinously-faceted eyes and iridescent, cellophane-like wings over the course of about a week (at room temperature).

I spent several hours washing more larvae than usual to establish a clean stock, wanting to have plenty of extra males to father the experimental crosses. If I’d had access to the quarantine microscope, I could have selected extra male larvae—you can already distinguish males and females at this stage-- but it would not really have saved time. I played the numbers game instead. It was a Sunday afternoon, quietest time of the week in lab, and very peaceful. I took my time and changed the bath solutions often to make sure there wasn’t too much soapy water in the ethanol or too much ethanol in the final rinse. I wanted this all to go smoothly with no delays.

I put the now-lawful vial in the 25C incubator to develop, after carefully copying the genotype from the original handwritten labels: Cy2/(Cyo); Dr/TM6b. Incidentally, there are lots of markers of chromosomes, many going back to the original mutations described by early fly workers such as Calvin Bridges and Alfred Sturtevant. They let you follow with visible traits the invisible genes that you wish to follow through the generations. Various labs have their favorite markers, but some such as Cyo (which makes for curly wings) are ubiquitous, and Dr and TM6b were familiar to me as well. Dr (short for Dropped, I don’t know why) makes the eyes very slitted, and TM6b is a whole set of markers that comprises what is called a balancer chromosome: a chromosome that has been scrambled and rearranged so that even though it still has all its genes, they are in the wrong places. This means that none of the usual recombination between sister chromosomes that occurs when egg and sperm form can happen. The advantage to the researcher is that this keeps genes segregated in predictable places. Otherwise, all those markers would not be reliable indicators letting you keep track of the genes you put in place from one generation to another. TM6b can actually include various different markers, but one of them is Tb, easy to recognize in both the shorter larvae and pupal cases and to some extent discernible in adults as well.

Chapter the Second: Cross Purposes. Fast forward two weeks (you can—I sadly could not—this being November of 2020, I would certainly have appreciated the distraction). So I waited, none too patiently, for the new adults to emerge. Meanwhile, I tended the stocks I would virgin for females: two different RNAi lines for Diaphanous and one, a control, for its cousin DAAM which I already knew was not required for the later-stage stress fibers. I built up a collection of ladies in waiting, captured shortly after their eclosion and isolated in vials away from all male contact, so I could be sure their offspring would be the genotype I wanted. [A note about the term ‘eclosion’: one might be tempted to call the emergence of the adults from their pupal cases ‘hatching’, but that term is reserved for the larvae coming out their eggshell. You only hatch once, even in the doubled lifestyle of these metamorphosing beasties.]

Finally the washed flies began to eclose. All my usable Cy2 flies were in that one vial. I briefly knocked them out with carbon dioxide gas, used a fine paintbrush to separate the males, and added 3 males each to the three bevvies of expectant females. There were still a few males left, enough to establish the new stock of Cy2 for future use.

At last, more than a month after conceiving it, I’d begun the experimental cross. It would be two more weeks before I had the flies to dissect and the beginnings of an answer. Fly work involves a lot of waiting, and to cope with that we tend to have a lot of irons in the fire. All that juggling can be rather distracting. Sometimes, depending on how other experiments have gone in the interim, I’ve unfortunately moved on from the original urgency of a question by the time the flies are ready to examine. It’s a hazard of the work.

Though I did not yet realize it, I’d made two mistakes. First, I should have looked a bit more carefully at those Cy flies. Second, I should have done the proper control. Sure, crossing them to the DAAM flies was a pretty good control, but there was an even stricter one, that tested whether the driver stock alone had any effect (it should not, but you like to be sure). I should have crossed the Cy2 flies to what we call wild-type, a stock called w1118 that has white eyes, incidentally [link] the first fly mutant ever identified and the foundation of fly genetics.

I hadn’t wanted to use up any more of my precious males, and figured I could always do that control later, if the experiment turned out promising. A lot of us cut corners that way, and it isn’t necessarily less efficient. But sometimes it snarls you up and wastes your time instead of saving it, and makes you go through all sorts of contortions trying to make sense of your data with less information than you should have had.

Chapter the Third: The Experiment. I waited out that two weeks, pursuing other work and trying not to pay too much attention to the news. I wore my mask and stayed in touch with my loved ones over zoom and the like. I hung up bird feeders to entertain my cats and my family alike. I went on long walks by the lake. Time passed. At last the grand day arrived: my experimental flies had begun to eclose. I gassed them and tapped them out of the CO2 pad. Now here was a wrinkle I’d shoved to the back of my mind: those extra markers that I didn’t need, the Dr and TM6b. In a clean experiment I’d have gotten rid of them, but that would have required another couple generations. I’d wanted a quick provisional answer, in order to decide whether it was worth the time and trouble to do the more careful version of the experiment. So: would I dissect the TM6b-carrying flies, or the Dr-carrying flies? It had to be one or the other. The balancer chromosome carries a number of mutations so it would be more likely to do something weird to the cells I was interested in. Not that that was very likely, but I might as well be careful. Dr it was then: that only affected the eyes, as far as I knew. What were the chances it would mess up my experiment on stress fibers in follicle cells?

But none of the flies had Dr eyes. That was odd. I looked closer. Half of them sure looked like Tb flies, shorter and a bit chubbier, though you never want to depend on your ability to discern that marker in adults. The others, the longer ones? They did have some oddly short hairs on their dorsal thorax (around the back of the lower neck, if you want to be anthropomorphic about it), much shorter than the clipped ones you see with the marker Stubble. It kind of reminded me of a marker I’d seen once or twice. Well, that must be what these were; maybe the label had been written wrong.

Impatient to get the experiment done, I swept the short-haired flies into a fresh vial with a bit of yeast. The yeast was to encourage egg production (they’re called fruit flies or vinegar flies, but it’s really the yeast on the rotting fruit that they’re after). I added a few males which were there for the same end. You could say the way to a fine set of ovaries is through both the heart and the stomach. Two more days to go before the dissection. For good measure I put some plain-vanilla w1118 flies on yeast to serve as extra controls.

On the appointed day, I got out my fiercely pointed #55 forceps and began the dissection. I nearly messed up by dissecting the early stages by habit—the technique to do so destroys most of the older egg chambers—but luckily remembered what I was about it time, and switched to the method to optimize acquisition of undamaged later stages. I fixed for 15 minutes in 4% paraformaldehyde, rinsed three times in phosphate-buffered saline solution with Triton-X detergent, and added a stain that would label the filamentous actin, the principle component of stress fibers among many other cellular structures. I put it in the lab fridge (the one where no food is allowed!) to stain overnight. The next morning, early, I came in and rinsed off the stain and made slides. Then I went to the womb-like room where one of my favorite workhouse microscope lives, the renowned Nikon 800 laser scanning confocal microscope. I did the necessary 2020 ritual wipe-down of all surfaces with 70% ethanol, and fired her up.

And oh, it was beautiful. I was so disciplined; I began with the controls to set up the correct laser intensity and gain at which to collect all the images, so the brighter ones would not be out of the range of measurable brightness and everything could be properly quantified. But it was already clear from the what I saw on the computer screen as I centered examples, focused, and took images that the experimental egg chambers had strongly reduced stress fibers. I took lots of pictures, happy that for once my experiment had gone as planned and given me a clear answer.

Also, can I just say how much I love the stain Oregon Green phalloidin? The name itself is lovely: as a native of the Pacific northwest I find it so evocative: the green of deep cushiony moss and ferns and forests of hemlock and douglas firs; and phalloidin itself is a stain derived from mushrooms with which those forests are rife. (Phalloidin, now there’s a scary toxin: it binds so tightly to filamentous actin that it stops your heart. Unlike a lot of other toxins, it doesn’t make you nauseated, so you absorb it until it’s too late for any antidote. But that’s why it’s such a good stain. You just have to wear gloves, or wash your hands after pipetting it. And we all wash our hands so often nowadays it makes no never mind.) There’s red phalloidin, and far-red phalloidin, and even ultraviolet phalloidin (but most microscopes don’t have the right filter sets to light it up very well): but green phalloidin is the king as far as I’m concerned. So bright, and a short enough wavelength (only 488 nanometers, vs. 566 or 647) that it shows up structures the more finely. You can definitely see the difference: it’s sharp as can be.

So, I had the preliminary results I had hoped for: the Diaphanous flies had reduced stress fibers. It doesn’t actually happen to me all that often, that I get a clear answer, either what I predicted or the opposite which is almost as good in science. At least that’s progress, an increase in understanding. No, usually I stumble over these head-scratchers of outcomes. Interesting results, but interesting in a complicated way that require a lot more work to make sense of, if you ever do. It’s partly down to most of my experiments involving imaging with a microscope: you get a lot of unexpected information that way, if you keep your eyes open. But it’s also that I seem to be attracted to the sort of problem that does not yield neat answers—the way some people are attracted to overly hairy guys on motorcycles who are a bit too into mild-altering substances and petty crime. I think I’m the one to straighten them out, but usually I’m the one who gets burned. But this time I had prevailed!

This was just a start; of course I needed to replicate, do some more dissections, get more numbers, reach levels of statistical unassailibility. In particular, I didn’t have as many clear examples of the DAAM control as I needed. Also, I’d do the proper control, and maybe even un-double-balance that Cy2 stock to get rid of the pesky extra markers.

Chapter the Fourth: The morning after. Yeah, and now I’d better take the time to figure out what is going on with that marker that is not Dr. Because, unlikely as it was, wouldn’t it be a shame if it were somehow affecting my results? Worst-case scenario—because that’s how we self-questioning scientists have to operate, ever since the dawn of time or at least the Enlightenment—worst-case scenario, then, is this marker, whatever it is, is the thing responsible for the reduction in stress fibers. Oh, but that’s very unlikely, I tell myself. Besides, the DAAM controls didn’t have reduced stress fibers.

I looked at the original handwritten label, still on the vial of flies on top of the fridge in quarantine. Maybe that D might actually be a P. What was Pr? I’d never heard of it.

I went to the master compendium of fruit fly genetics, FlyBase.org, and looked up Pr. Purple, an eye color gene on the first chromosome. I was looking for a gene on the third chromosome, so that couldn’t be it. I tried a different approach: I DuckDuckWent (DuckDuckGoed doesn’t sound right; if you haven’t heard of it, it’s a more private alternative to Google) images of Drosophila markers. There was that classic poster I’ve seen hanging in various labs, of the most common markers. And there was that marker I’d been reminded of, with the very short hairs. Sn it was called. Could that be my marker? It would have to be some pretty bad handwriting, to make an S look like a D; r to n is easier to imagine.

I went back to FlyBase and looked up Sn. It was the gene Singed. Like if you got to close to the outdoor fire pit on the patio (a way to safely hang out with your friends outdoors even during the Chicago winter), and singed your eyebrows most of the way off (and no, I haven’t done that yet). Also on the first chromosome, though. But look here, this is interesting: Singed is an actin-bundling protein. I read further down the page that summarized the work of dozens or hundreds of researchers over the decades. Yes, it was expressed in the ovaries, and yes, it was known to affect stress fibers. That would be worrying if it were my marker. Lucky it’s not.

I wasn’t getting anywhere. I tried yet another method, going to the webpage for the Bloomington stock center. It’s very well organized, and they have a page showing the details of all the balancer stocks they keep. There ought to be a clue here, for any marker that a researcher could assume another lab would recognize. I go down the list to the TM6b stocks, and find it. Pri, aka Pr, for Prickly. Causes short thoracic bristles. That’s my guy.

Back on FlyBase, I learn that Prickly is one of the classic mutants discovered in the early days of fly research. And this is weird: it has not been annotated. That is, nobody has figured out what gene it is a mutation of, let alone what biological processes it participates in or what tissues it’s expressed in (this matters because if it’s not active in the follicle cells, my experiment would still be valid). They could; it’s a straightforward enough task given that the whole genome is sequenced, but apparently it’s not one that anyone’s found worthwhile. So all we know is it makes very short, deformed bristles that look to me a lot like those of Sn.

Okay, now I am getting worried. What are the chances that this is NOT a protein that affects something like actin bundling and therefore messes up stress fibers? Maybe I had only seen what I wanted to see with the DAAM control. That’s a hazard of doing science, because it’s a hazard of being human. That’s why controls are so important. I consider my experiment in this new and harsher light. Maybe the Diaphanous results are just a phantom of wish fulfillment, summoned by this Prickly hitchhiker I’d never meant to take along for the ride.

I’d already begun the proper control that would answer this question, but meanwhile, while I wait for those flies to emerge, is there anything else I can do? Maybe I should dissect those formerly scorned Tubby flies; at least they lack Prickly. But according to the list at Bloomington, that particular stock has a number of other mutations on its TM6b chromosome, including one called Bri. Bri is a twin of Pri in more ways than one: it also causes very short bristles, and is also unannotated so we have no idea what protein it makes or when or where it acts in the body. Without asking the researchers who sent me the flies, I had no way of knowing if Bri was in there or not.

It would be a bit awkward quizzing them about their flies. We all tend to overdo the shorthand in labeling our stocks, and don’t always remember all the extra mutations lurking there. It’s tripped me up before, when I uncovered interacting mutations I hadn’t known to worry about until they unhinged my crosses. Don’t get me started on vermillian eye color: it’s a real bear. Either way, I’d have to check the controls and unbalance the stock to have a real answer, so probably better not to pester them.

I can’t resist having a quick peek at the TM6b flies though; I’ll be dissecting them tomorrow and should know by Sunday or Monday if the Diaphanous results are evaporating or not...that is, if Bri or something else is not further muddying the waters. A positive result would be definitive; a negative one will require further research. Well, either one will require further research, but one will be more cheerful and the other more like putting nails in a coffin of my hopes one more time. And that, my friends, is what it’s like to do science. (At least I get to see more Oregon green on the confocal, though).

Epilogue. What lessons can we draw from this (mis)adventure, this stomach-churning roller coaster ride of thrills and doubts that is my life in science?

1. Do the proper controls from the beginning. (Although that would have cut out the thrills as well as the doubts, so to be honest, I’m not totally on board with this one).

2. Take the time to look at the flies you are about to cross, and make sure they have the markers you expect. Harder, probably unrealistically hard, is to make sure they don’t have the markers you don’t expect. That would require a Rumsfeldian level of perceiving unknowns unknowns.

3. Remember the limitations of shorthand for conveying a genotype, which like the face we present to the world is invariably far more complex than there is room enough and time to write out.

4. Murphy’s law reigns supreme in this world of ours. What were the chances that the unwanted marker I’d thought I could ignore for a first-pass experiment would turn out to be a different marker I’d never heard of that might affect stress fibers in my cells? Still, it made for a good story, which I haven’t come across in all this interminable slog of an Autumn.

#drosophila #science #research #lab work

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akwardkisses · 4 years ago

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Don't let that sweet innocent face fool you. He just beat the snot out of poor Mickey. He's a tuffy for sure. I'm trying to teach him that Momma's hands are not for attacking. I use one of those wooden back scratchers you can get for a dollar at the Walmart. He can attack that to his little predator's heart is content. We're still working on it, he'll get there. It'll just take patience. Mine not his, he has none. Yet. And that's ok. I really couldn't love him more, he's been a welcome distraction during these very stressful times. There's just something so soothing about cuddling a sleepy baby. Even the fuzzy ones. I think maybe I needed him more than he needed me. Have a peaceful Sunday my friends. Stay safe, stay well and may the world be a better place tomorrow. #poverty_hill #homestead #homesteading #homesteadersofinstagram #cat #cattitude #rescuekitten #flerkin #flerkinmom #hemakesorangelookgood #lovemyflerkin #sully #stayathomecatmom #crazycatlady #sweetsully #ruralpa #countryliving #simplelife #slowliving #simplepleasures #selfcare #myhappyplace #myhappylife (at Pennsylvania) https://www.instagram.com/p/CHV678NAhaA/?igshid=1uhmql4b81kk9

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agl03 · 6 years ago

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ABC SDCC Press Release

Disney Television Studios Takes Over Comic-Con 2019 With 14 Panels DISNEY TELEVISION STUDIOS TAKES OVER COMIC-CON 2019 WITH 14 PANELS! ABC’S TWO HIGHLY ANTICIPATED FALL DRAMAS ‘STUMPTOWN’ AND ‘EMERGENCE’ MAKE COMIC-CON DEBUTS WORLD PREMIERE SCREENING OF FOX’S PULSING THRILLER ‘neXt’ FIRST LOOK AT TWO NEW ANIMATED SERIES: ‘BLESS THE HARTS,’ FROM EMMY® AWARD WINNER EMILY SPIVEY; AND ‘SOLAR OPPOSITES,’ FROM THE MINDS BEHIND ‘RICK AND MORTY’ EXCLUSIVE SNEAK PEEK OF ‘What Just Happened??! WITH FRED SAVAGE’ AND SEASON 2 OF KURT SUTTER’S ‘MAYANS M.C.’ ‘MARVEL’S AGENTS OF S.H.I.E.L.D.’ RETURNS FOR STAR-STUDDED HALL H PANEL SETH MACFARLANE AND ‘THE ORVILLE’ CAST AND CREATIVE TEAM TEASE SEASON THREE AND NATHAN FILLION TALKS SEASON TWO OF ‘THE ROOKIE’ FAN-FAVORITE ANIMATED COMEDIES ‘THE SIMPSONS,’ ‘FAMILY GUY,’ ‘BOB’S BURGERS’ AND ‘AMERICAN DAD!,’ BACK FOR HILARIOUS PANELS AND AUTOGRAPH SIGNINGS Among Those Scheduled to Appear on Panels and at the 20th Century Fox Television and ABC Booths in the San Diego Convention Center: Ike Barinholtz, Jillian Bell, H. Jon Benjamin, Michael Ealy, Donald Faison, Nathan Fillion, Clark Gregg, Scott Grimes, Jake Johnson, Seth MacFarlane, Camryn Manheim, Megan Mullally, Edward James Olmos, JD Pardo, Fred Savage, Kristen Schaal, Cobie Smulders, Allison Tolman, Ming-Na Wen and Executive Producers Rich Appel, Loren Bouchard, Brannon Braga, David A. Goodman, Matt Groening, Al Jean, Phil Lord, Chris Miller, Jason Richman, Justin Roiland, Alec Sulkin, Emily Spivey, Kurt Sutter and Matt Weitzman Disney Television Studios including Twentieth Century Fox Television, ABC Studios and Fox 21 Television Studios takes over the San Diego Comic-Con convention with stars and creators of 14 of its fan-favorite shows descending on the world-famous gathering next month. In addition to exclusive sneak peeks of its programs and panel discussions with the casts and creators, the studio will rotate producers and stars through the ABC and 20th Century Fox Television booths on the convention center floor for autograph signings and activities, including distribution of exclusive 2019 poster tubes, collectible mini-posters, premium giveaways and DVD sales. Descriptions of panel sessions and screenings follow:

THURSDAY, JULY 18

3:00 – 4:00 p.m. EMERGENCE (Produced by ABC Studios) – Beyond explanation … beyond understanding … lies the truth. Join the cast and executive producers for a first look at the pilot episode of ABC’s new drama series “Emergence,” followed by an exciting panel discussion. This character-driven genre thriller follows a police chief who takes in a young child she finds near the site of a mysterious accident who has no memory of what has happened. The investigation draws her into a conspiracy larger than she ever imagined, and the child’s identity is at the center of it all. Executive producers Michele Fazekas and Tara Butters with cast members Allison Tolman, Donald Faison, Clancy Brown, Alexa Swinton, Owain Yeoman, Ashley Aufderheide, Robert Bailey Jr. and Zabryna Guevara will all be in attendance. (Indigo Ballroom) 3:30 – 4:30 p.m. MARVEL’S AGENTS OF S.H.I.E.L.D. (Produced by ABC Studios) –The cast and producers of “Marvel’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.” will return to San Diego Comic-Con in epic fashion as they take over Hall H for the first time ever! Be the first to hear the scoop about the show-stopping conclusion for season six and what awaits in season seven of Marvel’s flagship television show. With your favorite stars in attendance, including Clark Gregg, Ming-Na Wen, Chloe Bennet, Elizabeth Henstridge, Iain De Caestecker, Henry Simmons, Natalia Cordova-Buckley and Jeff Ward, along with executive producers Maurissa Tancharoen, Jed Whedon, Jeff Bell and Jeph Loeb, this is a must-see panel to celebrate seven seasons with the world’s greatest fans! This action-packed series from ABC Studios and Marvel Television airs Fridays at 8/7c on ABC. (Hall H) Please note: Talent is subject to change. 4:15 – 5:15 p.m. STUMPTOWN (Produced by ABC Studios) – Based on the “Stumptown” graphic novel, ABC’s new drama series “Stumptown” follows Dex Parios (Cobie Smulders) – a strong, assertive and sharp-witted army veteran with a complicated love life, gambling debt and a brother to take care of in Portland, Oregon. Her military intelligence skills make her a great PI, but her unapologetic style puts her in the firing line of hardcore criminals and not quite in alliance with the police. Panelists include cast members Cobie Smulders, Jake Johnson, Michael Ealy, Camryn Manheim, Tantoo Cardinal, Cole Sibus and Adrian Martinez, with executive producer Jason Richman and “Stumptown” graphic novel author Greg Rucka. (Indigo Ballroom)

FRIDAY, JULY 19

11:00 – 11:45 a.m. BLESS THE HARTS(Produced by 20th Century Fox Television) – From the network that brought you the Simpsons, the Griffins and the Belchers now present the Harts! FOX’s new half-hour comedy, “Bless The Harts,” features your new favorite, good ol’ Southern family. Jenny Hart (Kristen Wiig) supports her lottery scratcher-obsessed mother, Betty (Maya Rudolph), and her witty, creative daughter, Violet (Jillian Bell). With the help of her eternally optimistic, dreamer boyfriend Wayne (Ike Barinholtz), they hope to one day achieve the American dream. While they are always struggling to make ends meet, they’re already rich in friends, family and laughter. Join us for an exclusive first look into your next animation obsession with executive producers, Emmy® Award winner Emily Spivey (“Wine Country,” “Parks and Recreation,” “Saturday Night Live”), and Academy Award® winners Phil Lord & Chris Miller (“Spiderman: Into the Spider-Verse,” “The Lego Movie,” “21 Jump Street”), and the all-star cast behind the Harts! (Indigo Ballroom) 3:00 – 3:45 p.m. SOLAR OPPOSITES (Produced by 20th Century Fox Television) – From the minds behind “Rick and Morty” come “Solar Opposites,” a new animated series that follows a family of aliens “from a better world” who take refuge in middle America. Join Justin Roiland (“Rick and Morty”), Sean Giambrone (“The Goldbergs”) and Mary Mack (“Golan the Insatiable”), along with executive producers Mike McMahan (“Rick and Morty”) and Josh Bycel (“Happy Endings”), for an exclusive first look into the series premiering in 2020 on Hulu. (Indigo Ballroom) 4:00 – 4:50 p.m. BOB’S BURGERS (Produced by 20th Century Fox Television) – Always one of the most entertaining panels at Comic-Con, the Emmy Award-winning animated FOX series “Bob’s Burgers” returns to San Diego with a few surprises in store! Creator and executive producer Loren Bouchard and executive producer Nora Smith will break news about the upcoming season, and the always entertaining cast including H. Jon Benjamin, Dan Mintz, John Roberts, Kristen Schaal, Larry Murphy and Megan Mullally will have you howling with laughter with never-before-seen footage, followed by a lively panel discussion and audience Q&A. (Indigo Ballroom) 5:30 – 6:30 p.m. What Just Happened??! WITH FRED SAVAGE (Produced by 20th Century Fox Television) – Acclaimed director and television star Fred Savage cannot wait a second longer to share the world of “The Flare,” the most mind-bending, thrilling, edge-of-your-seat sci-fi show never created. “The Flare,” based on TJ Whitford’s classic series of sci-fi novels, “The Moon is the Sun at Night” not only sizzled its way into living rooms nationwide but also inspired Fox to create its first-ever after-show, “What Just Happened??! With Fred Savage.” Join Fred, alongside stars of “The Flare,” Shiri Appleby (“Roswell”), Kevin Zegers (“Fear the Walking Dead”), Tyler Ritter (“Marvel’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.”), and co-creators Matt Silverstein and Dave Jeser and director Jon Cassar (“24”) to get a sneak-peek screening of the fourth episode of the after-show dedicated to exploring the fandom surrounding the “The Flare.” “What Just Happened??!,” Fred’s half-hour hybrid comedy/talk show, airs on FOX on Sunday nights. Screening to be followed by conversation moderated by Fred Savage and fan Q&A. (Room 6DE) 6:00 – 7:00 p.m. the rookie (Produced by Entertainment One and ABC Studios) – Join series star and executive producer, Nathan Fillion, as he discusses his latest role as John Nolan on ABC’s high-action drama “The Rookie,” as production begins on its second season. Joining Nathan for this intimate conversation will be longtime friend and “The Rookie” showrunner, Alexi Hawley. The two collaborators will also reflect on Nathan’s overarching career, spanning from “Firefly” to Shakespeare, and now, playing the oldest rookie in the LAPD. (Horton Grand Theatre) 6:45 – 7:45 p.m. neXt (Produced by 20th Century Fox Television) – Join us for the world premiere of “neXt,” a propulsive, fact-based thriller about the emergence of a deadly, rogue artificial intelligence that combines pulse-pounding action with an examination of how technology is invading our lives and transforming us in ways we don’t yet understand. Coming to FOX in 2020, “neXt” stars John Slattery (“Mad Men”) as a Silicon Valley pioneer, who teams with cybercrime agent Fernanda Andrade (“The First”), to fight a villain unlike anything we’ve ever seen. Panelists to include creator and executive producer Manny Coto (“24”), executive producers and directors John Requa and Glenn Ficarra (“This Is Us”), Fernanda Andrade, Michael Mosley (“Ozark”), Jason Butler Harner (“Ozark”) and Eve Harlow (“Marvel’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.”) for a moderated conversation and fan Q&A. (Room 6DE)

SATURDAY, JULY 20

12:00 – 12:45 p.m. THE SIMPSONS (Produced by 20th Century Fox Television) – Now 30 years old and part of the mighty Disney empire, get inside insights and secret tips on the upcoming, brand-new season from Matt Groening, Al Jean, Mike B Anderson, Stephanie Gillis and the voice of Lisa Simpson and panel moderator, Yeardley Smith. There WILL be freebies! (Ballroom 20) 1:00 – 2:15 p.m. AMERICAN DAD! and FAMILY GUY(Produced by 20th Century Fox Television) – It’s a Smith-family fun day with Hayley (Rachael MacFarlane), Steve (Scott Grimes), Klaus (Dee Bradley Baker) and Principal Lewis (Kevin Michael Richardson), plus executive producer and co-creator Matt Weitzman and producers Kara Vallow & Jeff Kauffmann who will treat “American Dad!” fans to a first look at scenes from all-new episodes coming soon to TBS … plus a few other surprises! THEN Join cast Seth MacFarlane, Alex Borstein, Mike Henry and executive producers Rich Appel, Alec Sulkin and Kara Vallow from FOX’s hit animated comedy “Family Guy” as we celebrate our 20th anniversary! We’ll take a look back at some of our favorite moments over the last 20 years, plus a special sneak peek at the hilarity and hi-jinx in the upcoming season! (Ballroom 20) 2:30 – 3:15 p.m. THE ORVILLE (Produced by 20th Century Fox Television) – From Emmy Award-winning executive producer and creator Seth MacFarlane, “The Orville” is back for season three and stopping in San Diego! Join the full crew of the U.S.S. Orville: Seth MacFarlane, Adrianne Palicki, Penny Johnson Jerald, Scott Grimes, Peter Macon, Jessica Szohr, J Lee, Mark Jackson and Chad L. Coleman, and executive producers David A. Goodman, Jon Cassar and Brannon Braga to get an exclusive look back at some of our favorite, never-before-seen moments of season two and a special sneak peek at the new and exciting missions in the upcoming third season! (Ballroom 20)

SUNDAY, JULY 21

1:00 – 2:00 p.m. MAYANS M.C. (Produced by Fox 21 Television Studios) – “Mayans M.C.” is the next chapter in Kurt Sutter’s award-winning “Sons of Anarchy” saga. Set in a post-Jax Teller world, Ezekiel “EZ” Reyes is fresh out of prison and a prospect in the Mayans M.C. charter on the Cali/Mexi border. Come for an exclusive sneak peek at a scene from the upcoming season and a not-to-be-missed conversation with co-creator/executive producer/writer Kurt Sutter, co-creator/executive producer/writer/director Elgin James and executive producer/director Kevin Dowling, plus stars JD Pardo, Clayton Cardenas, Edward James Olmos, Sarah Bolger, Michael Irby, Carla Baratta, Antonio Jaramillo, Raoul Max Trujillo, Richard Cabral, Danny Pino, Emilio Rivera, Frankie Loyal, Joseph Lucero and Vincent Rocco Vargas discussing what to look forward to from season two. Moderator: Lynette Rice, Entertainment Weekly. (Hall H) About Disney Television Studios Disney Television Studios is a collection of studios comprised of 20th Century Fox Television, ABC Studios and Fox 21 Television Studios. DTS produces the most award-winning, culture-defining programming for all platforms including “This Is Us,” “Grey’s Anatomy,” “Homeland,” “Modern Family,” “black-ish,” “Fosse/Verdon,” “American Horror Story” and “Marvel’s Cloak & Dagger.”

#agents of shield

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buzzdixonwriter · 6 years ago

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How I Benefited From What My Father Didn’t Watch

My father was never much of a TV watcher. I’m sure he bought that first 21-inch black and white set to keep mom happy as she had to stay home with me and my newborn baby brother Rikk.

Sports and news were dad’s interests on TV, along with the occasional documentary.

He watched TV with mom, but what that really meant was sitting in the same room, reading a book or magazine or newspaper while she watched TV.

Sports was his thing on weekends, and where we first lived in Appalachia he had to go outside and physically move the antenna from one part of our yard (where it could line up with the valley that permitted two TV stations’ signals to pass) to another (for a second valley that allowed a third station’s signals to pass), so we tended to set the antenna to the first position Monday through Friday then Saturday and Sunday he reset it to the station with more sports.

Channel hopping was not easily done back in the day.

There were two fictional shows that dad did watch: The Untouchables and The Twilight Zone.

The Untouchables I could understand; set in the 1920s when gangsters and outlaws like Al Capone and John Dillinger ran rampant across the U.S., it reflected people and incidents my father heard about as a child in that era.

But The Twilight Zone was a head scratcher. How could my father, an eminently practical man who read only non-fiction, relate to such a far fetched show?

“Well, I’ll tell you, Buzz,” he once said to me (he always called me Buzz because, like, that was my name). “I don’t like most shows because they’re made up stories. If you’re going to make something up, you might as well go all the way.”

There was one other show he watched with my mom (if by “watched” we mean fell asleep in his armchair while it was on) and that was The Dick Van Dyke Show.

The Dick Van Dyke Show is probably the single most influential show in the history of American television, but not in the way most of you think. While it was a popular show, it didn’t change American culture…directly.

But what it did do was to inspire literally tens of thousands of people to become writers and creators -- little Buzzy Boy included.

My parents would put my brothers and me to bed each night then settle in for an evening of TV (or reading and napping, in my father’s case). Mom darned socks or sorted laundry whiled dad settled into his big overstuffed chair and snoozed.

I would wait half an hour for the show I didn’t want to see to end, then carefully / quietly sneak out of my bed and creep to the living room door to peer over the top of my father’s somnolent form.

I learned to be quiet, not to laugh out loud so as not to wake dad up (mom, being partially deaf and far more tolerant of curfew violations, was less of a worry).

What did little Buzzy Boy see in The Dick Van Dyke Show that made it worth the risk?

My future.

Even as a child, The Dick Van Dyke Show presented everything I wanted out of life: A fun creative career as a story teller, smart and funny co-workers who were also my best friends, a smart and appealing wife who loves me and whom I love in return.

I got all that when I grew up, and am happier for it.

So when I say The Dick Van Dyke Show influenced tens of thousands of us -- because in my generation of Hollywood scribes there are more of us who were inspired by the show than not -- I’m not saying it in the sense of copying a particular fad but in following an entire lifestyle and point of view.

To be fair, a little credit must go to the legendary EC comics bullpen, those magnificent maniacs who turned out Tales From The Crypt and Weird Science Fantasy and eventually MAD magazine. Dad’s ability to work himself out of a job mean we moved a lot when I was growing up, and because of that I gravitated towards sci-fi fandom because then my friends [read pen pals] were never further away than the mailbox and a change of address form. Thru sci-fi fandom I learned of the EC bullpen, and that further refined my dream to work with really cool friends on a really cool project that people would remember decades later -- and I got my wish!

#writing #television #Buzz Dixon #The Dick Van Dyke Show #EC Comics

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bat-losers-inc · 6 years ago

Text

Hi, My Name Is...

Warnings: none

Summary: “What exactly am I going to say? 'Hi, my name is Jason Todd. My hobbies include paper-mache and vandalism. Can I work for your company?”

Pairings: Jason Todd/Tim Drake

Tim came into the room and flopped down on the bed next to Jason. Jason turned away from the book he had been reading to look at him, which was hard when his boyfriend currently had his arm draped over his face. At this time of night it could be anything from the lights were hurting his eyes — strained enough already from staring at a computer screen all day— to just the mild annoyance that Tim always displayed after a long day at W. E.

“Rough day at the office? “ Jason asked with an amused grin.

Tim dropped his arm from across his eyes and rolled over to face Jason, a desperate look on his face as he grasped Jason’s slack hands. “If we want to keep the lights running in this place, someone besides me has to start bringing home the bacon. And I mean the metaphorical green kind, not the greasy strips of dead animal you so lovingly cook up for me on Sunday mornings. Because if I have to work another full week at W.E. I’m going to shoot myself.”

Jason laughed and brushed Tim’s bangs from his eyes. “We can’t have that, Dorito isn’t an adequate substitute for a spooning partner. Too small… but just the right amount of furry.”

As if hearing his name from the great beyond, or like— the kitchen, the orange cat squirmed through the partly opened door and jumped onto the bed to curled up in between the empty space made by Tim and Jason’s bodies.

“It doesn’t even have to be a full-time job. You could flip burgers for all I care.” continued Tim.

Jason stroked Dorito’s side and smiled as the cat started purring like a car engine.

“Flipping burgers wouldn’t keep the lights on anymore than me not working, though. If I’m going to get a job it’d have to be full-time.” Jason cringed just at the thought of an office job. He doubted he could keep still enough to keep any position for more than a week.

“It doesn’t have to be a traditional office job. You could apply for managerial positions. Plenty of shipping depots have positions to fill. You’d be on your feet a lot and bossing people around.”

Dorito shifted more onto his back and started nipping at Jason’s fingers. “What exactly am I going to say? Hi, my name is Jason Todd. My hobbies include paper-mache and vandalism. Can I work for your company?”

Tim grimaced and glanced at the paper-mache replica of Dorito that Jason had been working on. The cat must have gotten to it at some point during the day because now half of its face was missing, paper shreds scattered about the floor. Tim was starting to believe that Jason wasn’t the only one with an inclination for vandalism, and prayed their cat didn’t develop an appetite for chili dogs as well.

“I’m sure they’ve had worse people apply for jobs. After all, this is Gotham we’re talking about.”

Jason snorted. “Sure, I’d be golden until they want to check my record and see that I’m legally dead. That’ll be a real head-scratcher.”

Tim was already reaching backwards into his laptop bag. “You let me worry about your record. Just start looking for help wanted ads.”

Tim was perched on the edge of the couch cushion, bare torso peeking out in spots between the ace bandages, sewing up the newest rips in his uniform from the other night’s patrol. He nearly jabbed himself with the needle when the door flew open, banging against the side wall, as a figure rushed across the threshold.

Tim dropped what he was holding, his hand already scrambling for that space in-between the couch cushions where Jason’s stashed emergency weapons. His hand came up with a hypodermic needle full of antitoxin from the last time Jason had been stupid enough to get hit by Ivy’s sex pollen. Someway or another, they always ended up in a tangle of limbs on the couch… stashing emergency doses of antitoxin there had seemed a good idea at the time. Tim still couldn’t find fault with it now as he tore off the cap with his teeth and whipped around to face his attacker, arm raised.

The man was wearing slacks and a white button down, and he changed directions fast when he saw the needle in Tim’s hand, arms rising up to fend Tim off.

“Whoa, whoa! Put the pointy objects down, babybird! I know I forgot to pick up coffee but there’s no need to turn this into a domestic.”

It was only then that Tim realized his intruder was actually his boyfriend.

“Jason,” Tim breathed a sigh of relief, the needle dropping from his hand onto the carpet. “You scared me.”

Jason eyed Tim warily, like he was still afraid of approaching the other man. “Yeah, and I learned my lesson, too. I won’t be doing that again anytime soon. From now on we’ll be communicating through a series of bird calls before I step through that door.”

Tim rolled his eyes and grabbed Jason by the hand, pulling him down onto the couch next to him. He took in the other boy’s attire, nothing like the jeans and faded t-shirts he usually went out in. “What are you wearing?”

Jason’s face broke out into a broad smile. “That’s what I came back to tell you. I had a job interview today and I got hired.”

“Really! Where?”

“An auto shop in Old Gotham. You’re looking at their newest mechanic. I think it’ll be good being able to do something with my hands during the day. Cleaning my guns gets boring after the third time in a day and since I trashed my bike a month ago… well I miss giving her a tune up. Plus, this helps pay the bills. I know it not a managerial position, but it’s a start. I can work my way up from here.”

Tim cupped his face and pecked a kiss on his lips. “This is fantastic news.”

Jason reached down towards the floor and pulled up a take away bag, smudged with grease stains. “I also brought home lunch to celebrate. Guess what restaurant is across the street from the shop?”

“What one?” asked Tim. Jason flipped the bag around so that the logo was showing, though Tim probably could have guessed correctly based on the tempting aroma that escaped and the colors on the bag. Red Robin — the restaurant chain that shared his name. He rolled his eyes at the overdone joke with a smile.

Jason grinned at him and ran his hands along Tim’s naked back. He planted a kiss on Tim’s bare shoulder and stated in-between kisses that trailed up Tim’s neck. “And, might I say… yumm.”

Tim tilted his head back, pulled Jason closer to him. “Oh yeah?”

Jason continued their path backwards until Tim was lying with his back against the cushions. Jason shifted until he was kneeling over the other boy’s body. “Mmhmm…”

“I guess lunch can wait a bit,” he laughed before pulled Jason into a kiss.

#jaytim #the return of Dorito the cat #fluff #batman fic #my fanfiction #LittleDarlingXOX #bat-losers-inc #Jason Todd/Tim Drake #jason todd #tim drake #dorito the cat #jaytim shorts

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