#circle k has the best gas prices

[totallycirclek]

Trying to prove a point to my transphobic parents

Reblog if trans men are REAL, VALID AND HANDSOME MEN, NO MATTER HOW THEY CHOOSE TO PASS

Reblog if trans women are REAL, VALID, AND BEAUTIFUL WOMEN, NO MATTER HOW THEY CHOOSE TO PASS

And finally, because it's a part of my argument for this point, and also because they are,

Reblog if nonbinary and genderqueer people in general, are REAL, VALID, AND GORGEOUS PEOPLE, NO MATTER HOW THEY PASS

[kori-is-dead]

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR FOLLOWING ME! And you abusive parents post is very helpful, my parents aren't abusive but they are quite strict. thank you very much!

Ofc :)

As long as it helps you, that was the point

[triumph12365]

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[affectionatehannibal]

the haunting of bill denbrough

prologue

George Denbrough had been dead five long years the night he woke his brother Bill up at one in the morning.

For just a moment, in the split second it took for Bill’s eyes to adjust to the darkness and remind his brain exactly where he was, Bill was thirteen again and Georgie was alive. Around that time of their lives, Georgie had woken Bill up quite often in the middle of the night, searching for somewhere safe from whatever lay waiting for him in the dark and someone brave and strong, someone like Bill, to protect him from it. Bill would make a scene- they were getting too old to sleep together, really- but they both knew sooner or later Bill would roll his eyes a final time and pull aside the covers, making room for Georgie to join him.

The Georgie that stood beside Bill’s bed now looked scared enough for this scenario to be true. His eyes, heavy with fear and wet with tears he seemed to be desperately trying to keep from spilling out, were wide against his pale skin. Bill had seen this look many times; it was the face of a child who has fallen off their bike unexpectedly and, by skinning their knee, suddenly realized that they are not invincible. Overall, Georgie’s expression was a familiar one. But there was something else in his face too, something that woke Bill up completely and increased the tempo of his heartbeat by a couple dozen beats.

Fear.  

Not any type of fear- not the kind that used to bring Georgie running to Bill’s room in the middle of the night, nor the kind that prompted Bill to check under his bed every now and then before bed, just to make sure nothing was hiding there. The fear in Georgie’s eyes was the kind that made a heavy nest in your stomach and stayed there forever, or as long as you had left to feel things, anyway. It was powerful enough to break your mind into tiny pieces. Bill had seen this fear reflected on the faces of his friends many times during the summer they’d delved deep into Derry’s sewer system. And he saw it written plainly across Georgie’s face now.

continue on ao3

Georgie’s eyes, wide and troubled, were filled with it. It was as though, if Bill looked really hard, he might see Georgie’s last memories reflected there. His last memories, ones of clowns and sewers and a brother who’d pretended to be sicker than he really was so he wouldn’t have to spend a second longer with his annoying, god-awful little sibling.

Bill shot up, heart pounding painfully in his chest. Reality took hold and screamed dead dead dead your fault into his ears. The real Georgie was miles below where Bill sat now, probably already rotted down to the bone, surrounded by the other dead children of Derry. Georgie was dead. This could be a dream, a hallucination, the aftereffects of the really shitty weed he’d shared with Beverly the day before, but it could not really be Georgie. And yet, some hopeful part of Bill’s heart begged for it to be real, one more chance to hold his brother. He frantically rubbed whatever sleep was left from his eyes, sure Georgie would be gone when he looked again with fresh eyes.

But Georgie stayed put, looking as frightened and pitiful as before.

God, Bill thought. I’d almost forgotten what he looked like.

And it really did look like Georgie, whatever stood beside Bill’s bed in a yellow raincoat and muddied jeans. He looked much smaller, much more fragile, than he had seemed to Bill in life, but, other than that, everything was the same. His eyes were deep and trusting, the same warm brown they’d been the day he’d died. His hair was light and mussed, almost like he’d forgotten to brush it. His mouth was turned downwards, like he was on the verge of crying. Georgie’s face, familiar and sad and trusting, pulled at the walls around Bill’s heart and threatened to overwhelm him with grief and guilt.

“Jesus,” he choked, vision blurry. He hadn’t cried in a very long time, and it was as though his tear ducts were trying to make up for lost time by producing as many tears as they possibly could. They made quick tracks down his cheeks, rolling off his face and onto his sheets. He wiped them away as best he could and reached towards his bedside table, careful not to touch whatever stood there borrowing his brother’s face, and turned on the lamp. He winced once as the lamp flooded the room with warmth and light, and once more when he saw Georgie’s face, no longer half-hidden by darkness. The light shone on the dark circles around his eyes, showed how sunken and bruised his features really were. His skin was a sickly, unhealthy color that reminded Bill of cigarette smoke and crummy gas station bathrooms.

“Oh,  jesus,” Bill’s voice was strangled, and he fought to keep sudden, panicked sobs from tearing their way out of his throat. “Georgie?”

The thing that might be Georgie slowly lifted a hand towards Bill in response, palm upwards as though asking for something.

“Holy-” Bill choked. He scrambled backwards, fighting to untangle himself from his sheets and blankets. He fell gracelessly off the bed, hitting his tailbone painfully on the hardwood floor.

Georgie was dead. Long, long dead. Whatever this was wasn’t here to crawl into Bill’s bed and complain that Bill’s feet were too cold, or be shushed by their parents for laughing too loudly so late at night. It was here to hurt, to taunt. To remind Bill of something that was, hopefully, as dead as Georgie.

Bill fumbled in the semi-darkness for the baseball bat he kept under his bed, hands exploring the dusty darkness frantically. After a few long moments he pulled it out and stood quickly, pointing it forcefully in the thing’s direction.

“We-we killed you,” Bill demanded, as though saying it was enough to make it true. It had been so long since he’d seen It in anything other than his nightmares; and now, looking at Georgie, he wondered for a quick moment why they’d been so scared of It all those years ago. Whatever stood by Bill’s bed did not ooze hate and evil and otherness like It did in his dreams. This thing was sad and lonely and afraid, but not evil. Still, what else could it be, if not It? “Y-y-y-y-you’re duh-duh-duh-duh-, we k-k-killed you!”

Georgie blinked slowly in reply.

“You’re s-s-s-supposed to buh-buh-be d-d-dead,” Bill coughed. He wiped away the snot that had started dripping and bubbling from his nose.

He heard his parents stir in the next room over at the same time his phone started ringing. His parents weren’t a problem; they wouldn’t come in to check on him if they woke up, and even if they did they wouldn’t be able to see whatever was standing by his ball. The phone call, on the other hand, managed to pry his attention away from whatever was impersonating his dead brother so perfectly. There were only six people in the world who might call him this late at night, and nothing would keep him from answering. 

---

Just a few blocks away, Richie Tozier was busy losing a match of Mario Tennis Aces.

It would have been embarrassing if anyone had been there to see it, but he was, thankfully, very much alone. He sat on the edge of his bed, wearing only a ratty pair of boxers and an extra-large t-shirt he’d found hidden in the back of Ben’s closet. The blue glow emanating from his TV screen was beginning to hurt his eyes; he took a quick swig of Mountain Dew to combat the discomfort.

Nighttime had never been kind to Richie; he blamed his current losing streak on that fact. Along with bad luck in digital tennis matches, nighttime brought sleep, and sleep brought nightmares. Amongst the Losers, nightmares were nothing new. It seemed that they were the price you paid to battle a demonic clown and escape unscathed. Overall, it was much easier to stay awake as late as possible and risk falling asleep in AP Bio for the umpteenth time than revisit his one and only trip through Derry’s sewer system every fucking time he closed his eyes.

He was just getting ready to give his remote control a quick good luck kiss before the next round began when a sudden, rapid banging on his window almost made him soil the only clean pair of boxers he had left.

“Holy shit,” Richie gasped. The contents of his stomach threatened to make a panicked appearance; Richie quickly choked them back down. The source of the noise knocked again, impatiently. Richie sighed, but a slow, easy smile made its way across his face. He leaned across his bed, stretching to open the window. He watched Stanley Uris crawl through it and smiled some more as Stan dusted himself off. “Gimme some warning next time, will ya? I almost shit my pants.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Stan mumbled. His shoulders, tense with something- Richie guessed anxiety- slowly relaxed the longer he stood in Richie’s room. Stan bent down to unit his shoes and take off his socks, placing them neatly against the wall. Richie watched him work in silence. It made his heart do summersaults in his chest to see Stan the way he was now- flushed from the bike ride over, hair tangled by sleep and wind, soft and warm in his flannel pajama pants and cotton t-shirt.

Stan said nothing when he was done, just stood quietly, solemnly considering the boy sitting before him. Richie gave him a moment to get whatever he needed from the silence between them and Stan soaked it up, slowly unclenching his jaw and shaking out the nerves that had settled in his fists.

Eventually, Stan sighed, slow and grateful, and Richie decided it was alright to speak. “What’s crackin’, baby doll?”

Stan grimaced. “Bad dream.”

“Same one?”

“Always the same.”

Richie hummed his displeasure and opened his arms, inviting Stanley to fill the space between them. Stan made his way towards them gratefully, crawling into Richie’s lap and leaning his head against Richie’s chest. Richie ran a hand through Stan’s hair, soft and gentle. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Maybe next time.”

Richie hummed again. Stan always said that, and so far they had never talked about it. “Want some Mountain Dew?”

Stan rolled his eyes, even though Richie couldn’t see his face. “No, thanks. But I’d take something stronger if you had it.”

Richie grinned and gave the top of Stan’s head a quick kiss. “I think I might have somethin’ like that,” he leaned across the bed, careful to keep Stan safely balanced in his lap, to grab his phone. “Let’s get Big Bill over here, while we’re at it.”

“No,” Stan snatched the phone from Richie’s hands and held it close to his chest. Sleep wasn’t something any of them could take lightly, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to steal a single second of it from Bill. “Don’t wake him up.”

“Come on, you know he hates missing out on stuff. He can always sleep once he gets here if he wants to.”

Their eyes locked and Richie grew suddenly seriously; a battle had begun. Stan figured they were too old to keep using staring contests to settle disputes. Richie said they were too old to let sacred traditions die so flippantly. In the end, they usually served Stan’s interests anyway; he could hold a glare with the best of ‘em. A few long moments passed; the air thick with concentration. And then Richie did what he usually did when he knew he couldn’t win- cheated.

Stan furiously blinked Richie’s sudden stream of warm, wet air out of his eyes. “I hate you,” he glared, hiding a grin, and held out the phone.

Richie laughed a happy, victorious laugh and gave Stan another kiss, this one on his forehead. Perhaps his nighttime losing streak was over at last; if this night was going anyway like he thought it was, he was going to get lucky two times over.

Pretty much everything about the three of them was built on luck. Luck, and a whole lot of hard fucking work. There were no guidebooks on how to date two of your best friends at once, no polyamorous trailblazers to show them the way. There was nothing, no one to tell them how to do this wonderful, lovely thing between the three of them. It was messy and hard sometimes, but god if it wasn’t good. All things considered, Richie thought they were doing pretty well for themselves.

He smiled softly and wildly into Stanley’s hair as he dialed Bill’s number.

---

Bill used the bat to keep at least three feet between him and Georgie as he walked slowly to the other side of the bed, towards the bedside table where his phone sat.

He struggled to pick it up, hands shaking, and cursed quietly when he almost hung up accidentally. “Huh-huh-ello?”

“Billy boy!” Richie sang, too excited to notice that Bill’s stutter, which normally took a siesta whenever he was talking to someone he loved, had returned full force. “Get your ass over here; we’re having an impromptu fiesta, just me, you, and-.”

“Ruh-ruh-ruh-ruh-Richie.” Bill interrupted. His body filled with relief at the sound of Richie’s voice, so much so that the bat almost slipped out of his hand. Here was someone who could understand, who might be able to help. He held his phone tight against his ear, as if doing so would transport him closer to Richie, away from whatever nightmare he was stuck in now.

Richie said something quick to someone that wasn’t Bill, his voice muffled and far-away. He sounded worried when he turned his attention back to Bill, like it had finally hit him that something wasn’t quite right. “Yeah, Bill, it’s me. What’s wrong?”

“I-I-I,” he stammered, eyes locked on his dead brother. “I-I th-th-th-think Guh-Guh-Georgie i-i-is in m-m-muuhhh-my r-r-room.”

“Fuck, Bill, I can hardly understand a word you’re saying. Did you-did you say something about Georgie?”

Bill flinched, like someone had just made as if to slap him. He hadn’t heard anyone say that name aloud in years. “H-h-h-h-h-h-hhhhh-,” he took a frantic breath, as if that would dislodge the word stuck in his throat. “Fuck, R-Richie, G-g-g-Georgie’s in m-my fucking ruh-uh-room.”

Richie said something else to whoever was in the room with him. They seemed to argue for a short moment which seemed impossibly long to Bill. “Hey, Bill? Don’t move. We’re on our way.”

The line went dead.

---

“Why did you hang up?” Stan spat, trying for the fifteenth time to reach Bill again. “He’s not picking up the phone.”

Despite being walking distance away from Bill’s house, they’d quickly decided to borrow (steal was a better word, as Richie was banned from driving it) Richie’s mother’s car. It whined loudly as Richie forced it faster and faster through the darkened streets toward Bill’s house.

“Chillax, Stanley,” Richie spat back, voice much less poisonous than Stan’s had been, obviously not chillaxing himself. He leaned forward in his seat, knuckles white around the wheel, as if worrying would help them get there faster. “Big Bill knows how to take care of himself. Whatever’s goin’ on, he’ll be alright.”

Stan shot a quick look of incredulous disbelief in Richie’s direction. It was the kind of look he usually saved for those students of Derry High with less common sense than a bucket of dying paint. It screamed: Are you an idiot? Stan himself screamed nothing and simply tried Bill’s number again.

No answer.

Richie urged the speedometer forward.

---

Already a few streets away, Bill Denbrough was busy ignoring the fact that he’d been told to stay put.

He’d made up his mind even before Richie had finished talking that he had to leave, to put as much distance between himself and whatever was in his room as possible. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand the look of fear and desperation on Georgie’s face, even if it wasn’t really Georgie he was looking at.

Georgie had followed as he’d stumbled out of the room, and Bill could see him now, standing in solemn silence at the end of their driveway. The absolute silence scared Bill more than anything else. In life, Georgie had been anything but silent. Contemplative, sometimes. But never quiet. Bill almost wished the thing that looked like Georgie would call after him, tell him to stop, something. But Georgie did nothing but watch him and Silver wobble unsteadily for a moment, his frightened gaze following Bill’s form as he made his way down the street.

Bill’s legs and arms knew where they were going before Bill did. Silver took them quickly to their destination, and Bill hopped off the seat before the bike had any time to slow down. He tripped over one of the wheels and fell to the concrete, Silver landing on top of him. He grunted in pain, loose gravel digging its way into the sides of his bare arms.

Bill looked up; he was on eye level with the sewer drain Georgie had spent his last moments crouched before. It did not mock or taunt or scream haha! I killed your brother! like Bill expected it to. It just sat, inconspicuously, like most sewer drains tended to do.

He pushed Silver off of him and scrambled forward. He braced himself against the concrete, poking his head into the sewer as far as the laws of mass and physical space would allow.

---

Stan and Richie were more surprised than they should have been to find Bill’s room empty.

Stan poked around the room methodically, looking for any evidence of what had happened, anything to clue them in on what was going on. Richie swallowed the shitty Sherlock Holmes joke working its way up his throat and fidgeted nervously in the doorway.

Stan picked up Bill’s phone, which sat on the bed, and frowned at it. “I don’t think he’s here.”

“I dunno, have you checked the bathroom? Maybe he’s taking a shit.”

Stan ignored him. “Where would he have gone? His truck’s still in the driveway.”

Bill’s truck was always in the driveway. He only ever used one thing to get where he wanted to go. Stan and Richie remembered this fact simultaneously.

“Oh, shit,” Riche groaned. “I’ll bet he’s halfway across the state by now.”

“No,” Stan shook his head. “He’d want to go somewhere. You said he saw Georgie, yes? What places do you think of when you think about Georgie?”

Simultaneously, Richie and Stan remembered something else. Remembered the last, rainy day George Denbrough had lived to see and the last place he had visited before his death.

They ran back to the car.

The overwhelming smell of rotting trash and stagnant water coming from the sewer drain made Bill want to gag. He turned his head to the side and took a quick whiff of fresh air before turning back to towards the opening.

“Wah-wah-wah-aht d-d-do y-you wuh-uh-want?” Bill shouted. “T-tell me!”

The drain did not grace his hurt and anger with an answer. Somewhere down the street, someone turned on a porch light.

Bill strained to see inside the sewer. He was so focused on making sense of the darkness he found there that he almost didn’t notice the light tug on his sweatshirt. His heart stopped dead in its track and he scrambled upwards to face his death, sure Pennywise himself had crawled from his hiding place to wipe the last of the Denbrough children off the face of the Earth. Instead of finding a killer clown, there stood the thing that looked like Georgie.

Georgie’s face was on fire with panic and fear. Blood streamed from beneath his right jacket-sleeve and down his hand, making soft splattering sounds on the asphalt. Bill’s heart ached, seeing Georgie’s face the way he was sure it must have been before It had killed him. He fell onto his knees and pulled the Georgie thing to him. Georgie felt as real as he looked- solid and firm. He even smelled a little like Georgie had too, like outdoors and the candles their mother liked to light on rainy days. Bill broke then, and sobbed painfully into Georgie’s small, cold chest. Georgie let himself be cried on and did not protest as Bill tightened his grip. He did nothing at all except look down at Bill’s head mournfully and continue drip drip dripping blood.

And this was how Stan and Richie happened upon the final third of their threesome, clutching onto nothing and sobbing endless, heart wrenching sobs.

And so began the haunting of Bill Denbrough.

[bananasilver90]

Digital Advertising Firm London

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[icarusthebusinessman-blog1]

Best Refrigerators to Buy in 2020

On the off chance that the house is a family's universe, the cooler is the sun. Everything rotates around it, from morning meals to-go, solid snacks, and suppers around the table. That is the reason getting another cooler is somewhat of a serious deal. There are huge amounts of variables to consider — everything from design and measurements to completions and uncommon highlights. Obviously, there's no way to avoid the value: They're costly. However, on the off chance that you need a top pick from a solid brand that will stand consistent in your family's circle for a considerable length of time to come, you're in the ideal spot. click here

The Good Housekeeping Institute's Kitchen Appliances and Technology Lab assesses a wide range of kitchen machines yearly, from gas extents to blenders to toasters and past. We rate ice chests on their capacity to direct the best temperatures for basic food item list staples like lettuce, shop meat, and solidified nourishments. For each model, we score for consistency of temperatures from rack to retire in the fridge and cooler compartments, just as for temperature varieties in single regions after some time. We test ice chests' capacity to keep up dampness on both fridge racks and in crisper drawers. Likewise, we assess every fridge's convenience, including the support of the manual, the sort and usability of the controls and the solace of getting a handle on the entryway handles.

We score inside highlights remembering the kind of racks for the fridge cavity and on the entryways, the simplicity with which the cooler cabinet and bins could be opened, the nearness or nonattendance of crispers with stickiness controls and the nearness or nonappearance of a meat guardian or store cabinet with temperature controls. All eminent highlights including Wi-Fi availability were thought of yet not appraised.

Our top Lab pick is the GE Profile Series French-Door Refrigerator, complete with a Keurig K-Cup Brewing System. It scored most elevated on temperature support and consistency testing and wowed our Lab specialists with its shrewd structure highlights. It's additionally Wi-Fi empowered, so you can change settings, preheat water for espresso, and more with the downloadable application. Here's elite of the best fridges to purchase, as per testing:

Best Overall Refrigerator: GE Profile Series French-Door Refrigerator

Best Value Refrigerator: Maytag Wide French Door Refrigerator

Best Smudge-Proof Refrigerator: Kenmore Elite French Door

Best Door-in-Door Refrigerator: LG InstaView Door-in-Door

Best Counter-Depth Refrigerator: GE Café French-Door Refrigerator

Best Double Freezer Refrigerator: Miele PerfectCool Series

Best Side-by-Side Refrigerator: Whirlpool 36-Inch Side-by-Side Refrigerator

Best Top Freezer Refrigerator: Frigidaire Gallery 30-Inch Top Freezer Refrigerator

Best Bottom Freezer Refrigerator: LG 24.1-cu ft Bottom Freezer Refrigerator

Best Refrigerator for Families: Samsung Family Hub Refrigerator

Step by step instructions to locate the best cooler for you

When looking for another fridge on the web or in a store, these are the primary things you need to consider. When you make your pick, don't miss our Test Kitchen's definitive manual for sorting out your refrigerator.

Design: The enormous players are side-by-sides, top-coolers, and base coolers. Side-by-sides require less space for the ways to swing open, however you have to twist down to discover food at the base of the cooler and cooler. Base coolers (like French-entryway models) put the most-utilized compartment at eye level. Top-cooler refrigerators cost less however expect you to twist to get into the ice chest.

Measurements: Your ice chest ordinarily needs to fit between counter space, so you'll have to coordinate the width to the format of your kitchen. Fabricated ins and cupboard profundity models sit flush with counters and cupboards yet might be all the more exorbitant.

Completions: Stainless steel is the most famous on the grounds that it has a smooth yet-impartial look, yet some favor a white or dark ice chest (or the as of late mainstream dark hardened steel and even carbon fiber). Constructed ins regularly offer outside framing that coordinates your kitchen cupboards. Numerous advanced completions are unique mark safe. At the Kitchen and Bath Industry Show this year, we saw a great deal of adjustable examples, as well; a pattern to pay special mind to!

Highlights: Consider the racking and inside drawers to check whether they work for your family's dietary patterns. On the off chance that you like to store a couple of containers of wine in the refrigerator, ensure there's sufficient tallness and additionally flexible racking; on the off chance that you request pizza every now and again, you'll presumably need an ice chest that can fit the crate inside. A few refrigerators additionally offer dampness controls on crisper drawers, meat or shop drawers, and different highlights for keeping nourishments at the ideal stockpiling temp.

1

BEST OVERALL REFRIGERATOR

Arrangement French-Door Refrigerator

GE

GE PROFILE

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$3,529.00

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The GE Profile Series French-Door Refrigerator with a Keurig K-Cup Brewing System got good grades for temperature support and consistency. It additionally wowed our Kitchen Appliance Lab specialists with its savvy configuration highlights: You get a first in class ice chest, in addition to an underlying Keurig coffeemaker in the entryway. It's Wi-Fi empowered, so after you download the application you can modify settings, preheat water for espresso, and get alarms if the entryway is open. It works with Amazon Echo, as well.

More subtleties:

• Dimensions: 36 x 36 x 70 inches

• Available completions: record, dark record, tempered steel, dark pure

• Energy Star ensured

2

BEST VALUE REFRIGERATOR

Wide French Door Refrigerator

HOME DEPOT

MAYTAG

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$2,299.00

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For a strong refrigerator without a robust sticker price, this Maytag model is the one to beat. It has slide-out racks and an implicit water and ice allocator with channel. In our tests, cooler and cooler temps held consistent and entryway racks were sufficiently cool to securely store dairy (which is an off limits on most refrigerators). Lettuce endured five days in the crisper, yet the controls were somewhat precarious to change so keep the manual convenient.

More subtleties:

• Dimensions: 36 x 70 x 35 inches

• Available completions: unique mark safe hardened steel, white, dark

• Energy Star confirmed

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3

BEST SMUDGE-PROOF REFRIGERATOR

French Door Refrigerator

KENMORE

KENMORE ELITE

amazon.com

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Notwithstanding consistent temps, Kenmore Elite's French entryway fridge is the ruler of compartments. It conveys huge amounts of extra room, racks you can alter for tall things, and two plate in addition to a cabinet in the cooler. Valuable atmosphere controlled containers help expand the life of produce, meat, poultry, and fish (in the crisper cabinet, lettuce remained as fresh as the day it was bought for a strong week). We particularly love the smear confirmation dark treated steel outside — it'll oppose fingerprints for quite a long time!

More subtleties:

•Dimensions: 36 x 70 x 36 inches

• Available completions: tempered steel, dark treated steel

• Energy Star affirmed

4

BEST DOOR-IN-DOOR REFRIGERATOR

InstaView Door-in-Door Refrigerator

LG

LG

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$2,159.10

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You can rely upon the LG InstaView Refrigerator to work admirably of keeping your food new, yet what truly recognizes it is the extraordinary entryway in-entryway highlight: The simple access compartment lets you rapidly snatch a bite or drink without opening the full entryway. The InstaView innovation lets you thump on the window of the transparent way to make the inside lights please.

More subtleties:

• Dimensions: 32 x 70 x 36 inches

• Available completions: hardened steel, dark treated steel

• Energy Star confirmed

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5

BEST COUNTER-DEPTH REFRIGERATOR

Bistro French-Door Refrigerator

GE

GE

bestbuy.com

$3,084.99

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GE's most recent line of fridges stands apart gratitude to its extra rich (and adaptable) plan. Select a matte white or dark outside, at that point pick between brushed bronze, copper, dark, or hardened steel handles.

This present model's counter-profundity, so it'll fit flush with your kitchen's cabinetry and you can coordinate the bar handles to your cupboard pulls. The French-entryway Café model has an inside water gadget and is Wi-Fi associated, as well.

More subtleties:

• Dimensions: 36 x 70 x 31 inches

• Available completions: matte white, matte dark

• Energy Star affirmed read more

[frostbuny]

P I N K S U M M E R

Summer is when feelings are as high as the temperature.

A dramatic change in Katsuki's life has him chasing down a possible criminal who is at fault for the incident. As the boys get closer to figuring out what really happened, they also come closer to figuring out their feelings for each other.

When the heat of the chase burns down their reality, all they can do is see it through to the end.

Chapter One - Sunshine

Izuku's sweat dripped down his neck, and his wet t-shirt clung to his body like a second skin. The heat wasn't unexpected, but it came in fast and scorched the city in a matter of days. It was probably dangerous to be messing around outside with the temperatures this high and only a half full water bottle resting in his bag. But he was willing to take the risk to see that.

Katsuki had a grin pulling at his face, his sharp eyes with a predatory glint in them. He bunched the bottom of his shirt in his hands before pulling it clean off, his hair fluffed and his body shining in the light. His shoulders and cheeks were pink from the heat and from the exercise, and some blonde strands of his hair stuck to his forehead. He flung the sweat soaked shirt into Kirishima’s face - the red head loudly protested in disgust - before snatching the basketball away and scoring with a loud whoop! of success.

Izuku Midoriya was very in love.

“That was so cheap!” Kirishima said. He used his own shirt to wipe away the sweat that Katsuki’s shirt left on his face. Katsuki laughed loudly. His head was thrown back as he guffawed; his laughter was hideous, and Izuku loved it.

“Yeah well I beat your ass,” he stopped laughing long enough to slap his hand on Kirishima’s back. The clap resounded loud enough that he felt the vibrations in his own body. Luckily Kirishima was built thick enough that something like that wouldn't bother him, but Izuku still flinched at just the sound of it. “You're buying, shitty hair.”

Kirishima groaned loudly before digging around his bag for his wallet. He stared at the busy road with anguish before running across when it wasn't too crowded. The gas station across the street was old and run by a family that thought everyone was beneath them. Everything in the store was over priced, save for the 2 dollar candy bags they keep near the registers. They made the deal that the loser of their game had to buy them drinks. Katsuki gloated in his victory.

“Wanna play a round while he's gone, Deku?” Katsuki threw the basketball at him. It knocked the wind out of his lungs from the fast impact. He coughed before vigorously shaking his head, gently tossing the ball back.

“I'm way too hot,” he said. He should follow Katsuki's lead and take his shirt off, but he wasn't nearly as body confident as the blonde. Katsuki rolled his eyes at the excuse, dribbling the ball where he stood. The concrete glowed beneath them from the sun, and it was hard for Izuku to focus on the bouncing of the ball amidst the light around it. It was as if Katsuki himself was glowing.

A phone started to ring, really shitty dubstep, and Katsuki stopped what he was doing. He let the ball roll away on the illuminated concrete as he approached the duffel bag directly beside Izuku's backpack. He first grabbed the towel lying above it to wipe off the shining sweat his face - the material leaving irritated pink marks across his cheeks - before answering the phone hidden further in the bag.

“What the fuck do you want? I told that old hag I was busy-” he stopped abruptly, the scowl on his face dropping. His eyes widened, his mouth hung open. He hung up the phone abruptly, staring at it like it was a ghost. He stumbled back a step, the motion striking him back into reality. He quickly packed up his bag, throwing the strap over his shoulder before taking off.

“Wh- Kacchan!” Izuku grabbed his bag as well before chasing after the blonde. Katsuki made for the parking lot. He pulled the keys out of his bag as he marched up to the old beat up truck that he parked to take up two parking spaces. Katsuki threw his bag into the trunk before unlocking the doors.

Izuku hoped he wouldn't mind him tagging along, and threw his bag in the back as well before climbing into the truck with Katsuki. It was scorching in the truck; Izuku felt himself suffocating. “What the fuck do you think you're doing-”

“You seem really stressed! And I'm worried- that- uhm. You'll do something reckless,” Izuku's voice lost volume with every word. He really couldn't bare the burning heat another second. The roar of the engine was all he needed to quickly roll the windows down for fresh, slightly less hot air. Katsuki rolled his eyes but said nothing in response. He pulled out of the parking lot quickly and stomped on the gas.

The trip was silent. No shitty dubstep poured from the speakers, no words were exchanged. The only sound was the wheezing of the fan from the ac - Kacchan gave up on fixing his ac months ago - and the roaring wind from the open window. Izuku was just tall enough for the sun visor to block the setting sun when they got in the truck originally, but the sun dropped with the time. Izuku was squinting and squirming the whole drive, trying to avoid the painful rays.

He glanced over at Katsuki. His red eyes were narrowed, a frown tugging his strawberry lips. His fingers were pale white with their tight grip on the wheel, and his entire body was tense with a low boiling anxiety beneath his skin. Izuku wondered what happened for the blonde to be so visibly stressed. He was too afraid to ask.

Izuku took note of the road they were heading down. The trees gave way to a walking trail, and the trail lead to parks on either side. The further down the road they went, the larger their destination loomed over them. Tatooin Hospital was not the largest or most expensive hospital, but it was homely on the inside. The staff was kind, and the residents of the building always greeted him when he entered. His mother worked the front desk, amongst other ladies, and she answered directly to the main doctor of the building. Izuku visited her at work often, but he wasn't sure why they were here now.

Katsuki parked in the overflow lot, but he didn't get out of the car. His hands were still tense and his gaze was sharp. He looked frozen. Izuku hesitated to rest his hand on his arm. Katsuki didn't shake him off, so Izuku figured something was deeply disturbing him. He took a deep breath - Izuku could see his chest struggling to expand - and released it on a shaky exhale. Katsuki undid his seat belt and threw his door open. Izuku did the same.

There was still no words exchanged between them, but Izuku didn't let that stop him from following after his friend. The sun was already set, and the sky was bruised in purples and deep blues. They entered the significantly cooler building, and they were blinded by too bright lights reflecting on the pristine white walls and floors. He locked eyes with his mother where she sat behind her desk. It was connected to two other desks that kept their privacy with high walls between them. Izuku recognized Lady; sitting pretty in pink scrubs and her blonde hair tossed over her shoulder. To his mother's right was Kamui. He kept his face hidden with a mask; Izuku asked him once why he always kept his nose and mouth covered, and the man shook his head in response. “I was asthmatic as a kid, and stayed here growing up. So small things like perfumes could trigger it. I haven't had an attack in years, but you can never be too safe.”

“Oh Katsuki, you're here. And Izuku,” his mother called. She excused herself to her co-workers before walking around the desks and approaching them. She pulled Katsuki into a tight hug. He barely moved; he stood rigid and white faced. The only sign of life was the clenched fists tight at his sides. “You can't see her right now, but I can bring you up to her floor.”

Izuku started to piece things together. He felt a sick, heavy dead stick to his stomach. He felt like he swallowed glue and everything was stuck together and getting tighter. He blindly followed his mother, Katsuki staying beside him the whole walk. They took an elevator at some point, but Izuku was too cold to really pay attention. The world was washed in a numb blue; his warmth from the park drained from him. His mother stopped in front of a door that looked like every other door on the hall. On a clipboard placed inside a clear container glued to the wall, Izuku could see the monochrome ink on the white paper. Mitsuki Bakugou.

Izuku risked a glance at Katsuki. His cherry red eyes were wide, his pupils needles at he stared at the same. “Kacchan,” Izuku called. The blonde didn't react. “Kacchan. Kacchan, what's happening?” No response. “Kacchan!”

It snapped him back into focus. Katsuki's face hardened, and his features fell into a nasty scowl. “What the fuck fucking happened!?” he yelled. He rushed to the door and began to pound on it. “Let me fucking in you mother fucking assholes! Let me fucking see her!” Inko tried her best to pull the blonde away from the wooden door. He wasn't even forming words anymore. A raw scream tore from his throat, and crystalline tears spilled from the corners of his eyes. “Aghhh! Let me- ahhh- see her!”

Izuku wrapped his arms tightly around the blonde, trapping Katsuki's arms as well as he could. Katsuki thrashed and screamed and tried to pull away, but Izuku was running on adrenaline. He tightened his hold, and pulled the blonde away one step backwards at a time. Other nurses finally came to see the commotion, but Izuku already had Katsuki far away enough from the door to stop anything seriously bad from happening. “Kacchan, calm down! Going in there won't help anything!”

A black haired male approached them. He had dark circles hanging from his eyelids, and stubble across his cheeks and chin. He walked towards Katsuki nonchalantly, and stuck a needle in his arm with ease. Katsuki thrashed around for only a few more moments before drooping to the floor. Izuku maintained his grip on him, and sat in the floor with him. Katsuki was dead weight in his arms. “I gave him a small dosage of a tranquilizer. He'll wake up in an hour or so. For fucks sake, don't let him do that shit again,” the man said. His name tag read Aizawa, but his face read I don't have patience for this shit.

Izuku managed to get Katsuki onto one of the chairs lining the walls, and he sat next to him. His mother gave him a sympathetic look, a kiss on the cheek, and a wave goodbye.

It wasn't until a few more hours passed that he finally heard what happened to Katsuki's mother.

Bakugou Mitsuki was in a coma.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20117194/chapters/47657377

[overwhelmed-ravenclaw]

IF YOU ARE IN NORTH LOUISIANA OR NEAR IT PLEASE READ THIS! I do not like making personal posts on here. This is one, I am sorry about that. It might have some triggers in here, but I am not sure what to tag them as besides being an ableist (discrimination to disable people) because that what it is. Also, a lot of cursing (some from myself) I am sorry about that. The other thing is racism is mention but tbh it has nothing to do with that it is basically playing the blame game. Also a kid threaten to commit suicide. 

I have PTSD and a part of that is being born deaf and misdiagnosed as a baby. I eventually got the surgery I needed to get the ability to hear for the first time properly. Now years later (more than double of when I had surgery) I am a bus aide/para. I LOVE IT! It is one of the BEST things that has ever happened to me. Issue is because I am in North Louisiana, bus aides don’t get paychecks year around.  There is a Circle K on my route, 4 hours long route from bus barn pick kids up then to the schools. In the afternoons me and the bus driver used to stop at Circle K before getting the kids to head home. We also check the gas, clean the windows, etc. Normal bus stuff and things you even do in your car. This day, the driver sent me in to the station to get our drinks instead of her coming with me. Normally bus drivers, truckers, cops, other officials gets free drinks. I got her fountain drink. Then I got my bottle drink.  Heading back to  register, I see the assistant manager giving me the stink eye. She is my sister’s boss. Just barely. My sister was pass over for the position for this woman, Jasmine. I get to the register, put my things down and greet her nicely. She refuses to ring my stuff up. When I finally got her to ring me up she rang up my bus driver’s drink and when I corrected her before paying she refused to fix it. By this time I am running 5 minutes late and like screw it. It was a dollar, it won’t hurt anything. I pay then she refused to give me the little bit of change I had back OR receipt that I asked for.  Fine. Whatever. I have to go.  Half way to the door I heard something weird turned around and clear as day could read the woman’s lips and she called me a “Fucking retard.” When the old man behind me in line started to fuss at her about being so rude to me. I don’t give a damn, I was more pissed that she said that behind my back than to my face.  I storm out and told my bus driver what happened. Bus driver said it happens and tried to pay me back the dollar for the drink. I refused because nice old lady who makes me snacks during breaks.  A few weeks later I went in, it is last week of school, so I am about to be out of the job for 3 months and not get a paycheck for 4 months. My last paycheck was combinde with my previous because sent out dates for aides is weird at this time.  I go into Circle K, my sister is working and my aunt is bringing me home. I go get my drinks for the morning and place them on the counter. My sister is in the back, the assistant manager, Jasmine, is up front checking people out. She reused to check me out. I asked her to four times and no one else was in the store besides an old man drinking coffee.  Finally she checks me out after calling me everything she could under the sun, including racist because I am “demanding servatude” and saying because she is black I am treating her like a slave... 1 I wasn’t rude, just tired. 2 She is the cashier, checking people out is her job. 3 I have had a long day and wanted to go home and snuggle my puppy.  Well then she kept repeatively calling me fucking retard to my face refusing to check me out. Finally my sister came up front finish fixing something in the back and then told me to get in her line so she can check me out. I check out and asked my sister if she wants something to eat before I head home. She said no and then went on her way of what she had to do. I left got food and then head home pissed that the woman was being so arragent calling me racist for asking her to do her job. Stupid people will be stupid is my logic with the whole fucking retard part, at least she said it to my face this time.  My sister who witness all of this went to the manager complaining that Jasmine was calling me a fucking retard. Manager went back on tapes from what my sister said and watched the tapes and saw me standing there listening to Jasmine’s insults and her going on about how I’m  racist for 15 minutes. Finally he said he’ll handle it. Nothing at all happened. Two more times something similar to that happened. We reported to the manager, Jody, nothing happened. Because I was a cashier’s sister.  This last time I went in and haven’t been in since, I walked in with money and pump number to prepay for gas, didn’t think I’d make it to the other station. I went up to Jasmine, she was the only one there, I told her pump number and price then gave her the money. She placed the money in her draw, never put it in the computer. She typed it up like she was going to put it in but never pressed the button that would turn pump on. I had someone outside waiting for the pump to be turned on. 15 minutes and I get a call from the person outside asking why the pump isn’t on. I go the the cashier and ask why my pump isn’t on and she tells me “Keys and license.” ... I prepaid... I pointed that out and she told me that it is mandatory for everyone to give their keys and license before getting pump turned on even when prepaid. If I wasn’t a fucking retard I woud know that. I eventually waited 10 more minutes after I talked her into at least turn the pump on... I thought. The person pumping gas came in and asked why the pump still not on it been almost 30 minutes. The woman then again insisted keys and licenses because she isn’t turning pump on any “other fucking way” so the person called Jody, the manager, and the manager eventually came in and looked at the cameras, got my money back and we left to go to walmart to get gas.  A couple of days later I learned that it wasn’t just me, who she hates, that she was doing this to. She was doing it to a 17 year old kid too. This kid is a sweetheart, I use to watch her when I was still in high school myself 10 years ago. Well that was my last straw. I told my theropist about what was happening and she called corp right before she came to see me because of Jasmine telling the 17 year old to kill herself that she is a fucking retard that is a mistake on this earth. I called corp and then next week when my theropist came to our “lunch date” she told me that her friend at Monroe’s Circle K told her that the corp was pissed because there was around 19 complaints on the assistant manager at the Circle K my sister works at.  I am told by my sister that if I called in she’d be fired. We didn’t have money because I was out of job till school is back and that is her job. So I called in under my step-sister’s other sister’s name, with their Okay. The manager who only talked to me once but mostly avoids me because I’m deaf and have PTSD called my cellphone. He wanted details. So i gave him all the times she called me fucking retard and how many times she has ignored me when I said I want receipt and how many times she has called me racist for asking her to do her job.  At the end of it he said he would handle it and he has to make a report to the big boss. Okay, I think to myself, FINALLY she is going to get straighten out. Worst case of senario in my head is she gets demoted but still there, best she gets fired.  She got neither. She got a write up and told that my sister was jealous she got the assistant manager position (that my sister don’t even want because it is a crap job) not my sister. Because of my sister working there, she is allowed to be an ableist and when someone calls her on her shit she gets to use the whole “I’m black” card and get out of it? No! That’s fucking wrong! I am so fed up with this shit! She made the 17 year old want to commit suicide because of this shit! She has isolated a good part of her COWORKERS who have family members who are disabled and she treat PAYING CUSTOMERS like shit because of something THEY CAN NOT HELP! And gets away with it.  I don’t give a flying fuck if she’s black, I’m Native American and don’t see me using the whole “Well you stole my land” line or “You had caused mass destruction and nearly made us exstinct race.” No, I am a human being and I see others as HUMAN BEINGS so stop being so up your own ass thinking everything about race that you can get away with total bullshit and treat everyone like shit!  I get that this is a very small town, but seriously, you can’t treat people like that.  If you like to make complaints or draw attention to this please do so. I am fed up. The inforamtion of everything is below. If anyone that goes to this Circle K sees anything that needs to be reported PLEASE REPORT IT! This treatment isn’t just!  Circle K, Jonesboro, Louisiana (71251)  store # :: 07773 (I think that is it.) 

Complaint phone # (It is just an answering machine) :: 800 869 5872 Store phone # (please do not harass the workers they are mostly innocent bystanders) :: 318 395 8082 I don’t know their last names only their first names. The Manager: Jody Assistant Manager: Gabby (Jasmine’s roommate)  Assistant Manager: Jasmine

[totallycirclek]

this is peak

[totallycirclek]

damn okay Lenore