#i wonder what gay target employee had the best day

[bunnybops]

chappell is having a brat summer

via chappell roans instagram story 6/25/24

[faulty-writes]

[ This is a continuation of the Katsuki Bakugou x Male!Reader headcanon set. Fair warning there are implied feelings between other characters at the end of this. I hope all of you enjoy it! Again Happy Pride y'all! ]

[ Headcanons Summary: Your efforts to get closer to Katsuki and accept your sexuality continue. Luckily, an opportunity arises at the Fireworks Festival. While you were also ordered by Best Jeanist to be vigilant during the event, Katsuki proves to show a little jealousy when it comes to you and by the end of the night, turns a little possessive. ]

As luck would have it, Best Jeanist invited his agency's members and interns to the Fireworks Festival to support the community and act as a safety measure in case villain's attack. You saw this as an opportunity to make your move as Camie suggested.

On the day of the Fireworks Festival, Camie helped pick your outfit claiming that Katsuki "Totes won't be able to resist you!" which you hoped worked considering when you arrived, he looked stunned when he saw you and shyly glanced away. Although you didn't have much time to process this because Best Jeanist gave the laydown of what you had to do during the festival.

"You are welcome to partake in the events and games, but I require you to patrol the perimeter of the festival every hour," he explained, gazing over his employees but lingering on Katsuki and you. 'I hope Bakugou treats them well,' he thought. If not, he'd try his hardest to set him straight, but knew matters of the heart were to be settled between those involved.

Despite wanting to make a move, your thoughts were jumbled, and you weren't sure how to approach Katsuki, even if you did, there was no telling what his reaction would be. You still remember how tender and sore your neck was from the last time he was angry at you. So, you decided to play a few festival games to calm yourself.

"Ah, come on!" you shouted, lowering the BB gun. Maybe a shooting game wasn't the ideal way to win a prize. "Are you having trouble?" came a deep voice, and you turned to see Shinya Kamihara also known as the Ninja Hero: Edgeshot. As usual, he was dressed in his hero costume and took the BB gun from you. "Allow me to try," he insisted, gently cupping your chin with one hand before turning to the booth and more importantly, the moving red targets.

Katsuki became extremely angry when he saw you with Shinya who handed you a stuffed animal and kissed you on the cheek. As he approached, he demanded, "What the hell is going on here?!" Shinya smiled from underneath his mask. "Ah, Bakugou it's wonderful to-" he glared at the older man. "What's the big idea, huh? Trying to win him over or something!?" he said before unleashing his quirk.

After the shooting game booth incident, you were in shock and needed more time to think. Katsuki cared enough to impress you. But he only did it out of jealousy or so you suspected given how Shinya not only won you a prize but kissed your cheek. Why did he do that anyway and was Katsuki jealous because another man gave you attention? There were so many questions and so few answers.

"Hey dumbass!" you heard him call. The sun was setting, and you were almost finished with your patrol. "Oh, h-hi Bakugou uh-ah!" He grabbed you by the front of your shirt and pulled you close. Your face flushed as you stared into his red eyes. "You're watching the fireworks show with me," he said before releasing you.

You were tempted to call Camie and have her save you. However, she would only tell you not to give up and to "Totes go after him!" You still struggled to accept the fact that you were gay and when you thought about it, love was scary. But you were a hero and couldn't back down from this challenge, right?

You decided to get cotton candy before walking to the fireworks show entrance where Katsuki was waiting for you. You nervously ate as you sat in the grass beside him. "Hey!" he shouted, almost making you choke. "I want a piece," he said. "Uh, it's nearly gone but okay," you replied, handing him a piece before helping yourself to the last bite.

As the fireworks continued, you smiled at the colorful hues and images blasting into the sky. Your hands were curled into the grass and Katsuki grinned, placing his hand over yours and catching your attention. "Uh, B-Bakugou what are-" You shivered when you saw his angry expression. "Focus on the fireworks," he demanded, and you nodded before turning your head back.

"Come on!" Katsuki grabbed your wrist and pulled you to your feet after the fireworks show ended. "Ah, hey! W-where are we going?" you asked as you were dragged past the closed food stands and game booths. "None of your damn business!" Katsuki replied, which didn't make sense to you unless he wanted it to be a surprise.

You cried out when he pinned you against the wall of the nearby building outside the Fireworks Festival. "I'm hungry," he stated, leering down at you. Despite your rapid heart rate and flushed cheeks, you look at him confused. "W-what do you mean you're hungry? Get something to eat! There's a bunch of restaurants and-" You were silenced by his hand grasping your jaw. "I'm craving something else dumbass!" he growled.

His lips tasted sweet and whether that was due to the cotton candy he ate or just his natural taste was unknown. His kiss was desperate and sent shivers down your spine. "Mm, wait!" you said, leaning back and panting desperately. "I...I t-thought you were straight," you commented, making him growl. "Does it matter what gender I like, dumbass! I like you, so shut the hell up and kiss me!" he demanded.

"Should we intervene?" Shinya questioned, turning to Tsunagu. The two of them were sitting atop a building together, perhaps on night patrol. In actuality, they had been watching you and Katsuki. If Keigo were here, Tsunagu assumed he'd make a humorous joke about being 'chaperone hawks.' He shook his head in reply. "I trust Bakugou will not hurt them," he said before walking away. "I also believe you have interfered enough," he stated as Shinya followed him.

Once they were far away enough, Tsunagu turned to him. "How did you know young Bakugou would react so negatively to your advancements towards Y/n?" he questioned. Shinya chuckled in response. "I have reacted and felt a similar way when others speak to you," he admitted before glancing up at the stars. "It is brave to be a hero, but even braver to be yourself in this otherwise judgemental world," he smiled, turned to face the taller man, and cupped his cheek. "They will be fine," he assured.

[ayellowbirds]

Today being my birthday, i had the time and energy to finally do some drawing after ages of neither time nor drive. So, i spent that on sketching out some headshots of the recurring characters of 33 Usher Street, my 1920s (and beyond?) vampire hunters story. Meet the employees, management, friends, and nuisances of the Usher Street House of Antiquities and Curios, an estate management company specializing in settling the affairs of the unusually deceased. This is both a source of income and a cover for their real calling: the elimination of dangerous vampires and other hostile undead. 

Solomon “Sol” Szombathy (gay intersex man), a Jewish dhampir of Romanian-American extraction (late of Pittsburgh, Vandalia) has arrived at the USHAC with his guardian in tow, after both of them got involved in a vampire attack. Sol’s ability to see the invisible and the surges of supernatural strength he gets when battling the undead are especially useful, as is the hawthorn-wood cane he uses to deal with the chronic pain he feels the rest of the time. 

James “Jim” Cullock III (asexual cisgender man) is a Scottish immigrant who helped co-found the USHAC as the assistant of a longtime vampire hunter; his love of gardening has given him many potent botanical weapons against vampires, including especially hardy and richly-scented roses that repel most bloodsuckers. He’s taken to maintaining a backstage role for the most part, as his lifelong issues with visual hallucinations have gotten worse with age.

The Reverend Doctor Matteus J. Hammer (transgender man of no particular sexuality) is an aging monster hunter of no small repute, his experience having brought him briefly as a boarder to the Szombathy house. His recommendation brought Sol to Usher Street, but can the perspective of this eccentric wandering hero be relied upon?

Randolph Carter (in-denial bisexual cis man) was once an author of minor repute with a fondness for the strange and occult, but encounters with the genuinely supernatural have mellowed his previously bigoted worldview. While he still struggles to be a halfway decent person in a reality that is at odds with his beliefs, his expertise with languages, obscure subject matters, and research makes him at least a useful jackass when it comes to spending time among his books.

Pluton is a very good judge of character, for a one-eyed cat. And oddly skilled at making his way out of dangerous situations, to the point that one might almost think he has more than the usual nine lives. It’s no wonder that the USHAC often bring the cat along.

Constance “Connie” Wright (pansexual cis woman) is a former orphan with the miraculous talent to ‘chew’ raw materials into new shapes, a skill she most often uses to create nails for sealing up coffins and the like. Naturally, the rail-thin Connie’s favorite weapon is a heavily weighted steel sledgehammer, when she can’t just do some slugging with a sturdy baseball bat.

Dorotheea “Dotty” Szombathy (transgender lesbian) is a golem that once served as Sol’s guardian, and is now happily living as his adopted sister. Her ability to reshape her naturally earthen clay body pairs well with her immunity to most forms of vampiric attack, as an artificial being. Prone to switching between having difficulty speaking at all and being effusively loquacious, she finds it easiest to focus when she has something to occupy her hands and mind.

Marie Bosley (bisexual cis woman) was and is the greatest vampire hunter in the United States, even if these days she prefers to stay at home and listen to music. Her unmatched knowledge of apotropaic magic allows her to create boundaries and barriers that no vampiric influence can pass, and lets her open the way for her proteges.

Esther "Essie” Levi (asexual cis woman) is the self-proclaimed ‘fastest knot-tier east of the Rockies’, and an unmatched expert in knotting string, yarn, thread, and cord to achieve magical effects. Paired with a gift for strategic thinking and an eye for symptoms of vampirism, she can easily weave a web that no bloodsucker is going to get through.

Aleister “Al” Jones (gay cis man) is a multilingual expert in stealth, infiltration, and charm whose gentlemanly demeanor is in no way at odds with his fondness for boxing. Unfortunately for opponents that would see him as unarmed except for a disarming smile, he’s also the bearer of a pair of gloves lined with the relics of a Catholic saint invoked against vampires.

Wilhemina “Will” Fawkes (lesbian cis woman) is the USHAC’s resident machinery buff, with cutting-edge expertise in automobiles, radios, firearms, and more. Her fondness for artifice means that the only thing that can distract her from something shiny and new is an animated short at the nearest theater, and her love of testing the limits of machinery means that her allies often find she’s made unexpected ‘upgrades’ to important equipment.

Adriaen ten Boom (bisexual cis man) is the most senior of the employees of the USHAC, a skilled actor whose pyrokinetic gift makes his good looks more than just smoldering. In spite of these charms, he’s actually fairly naïve when it comes to romance, and is prone to charming his way into entanglements he didn’t mean to get into.

Smith the Mechanical Heel (just a real dick) is a World’s Fair experiment gone wrong, and now runs the criminal underworld in Jackson, Massachusetts—which puts him at odds with the USHAC, since that’s where their home base is. He sees most of the employees as potentially useful additions to his crew, but he’s especially��interested in learning more about Dotty’s magically-constructed nature, in the hopes of making himself more lifelike. He’s not above getting involved in things that involve the undead....

The Ghosts of Madeline and Roderick Usher (cis lesbian and cis gay man) are the former owners of the land on which the USHAC was built, and haven’t moved on since the new tenants turned up. Freed of mortal concerns, they’re fond of teasing the living staff members, and serve as a second line of defense after Marie’s wards and magical traps. Roderick is absolutely certain that he’s going to get his ectoplasm all up on Randolph one of these days, and nobody feels up to questioning his taste in men; Madeline is the company gossip fiend and the best source of information on comings and goings at 33 Usher Street.

Dr. Joaquín de la Garza (closeted nonbinary queer) is a local physician who has a close working relationship with the USHAC, and is very fond of the mysteries and excitement they bring to his life. Exactly what brought a medical expert of Zapotec and Spanish heritage all the way up east is uncertain, but the good doctor seems to know a lot more about the supernatural than one might expect from just his familiarity with the secrets of the Usher Street staff.

Phoebe Khrysos (???) is a remarkably pristine ancient automaton, whose actual provenance is uncertain. Resembling a child made of silver, glass, and gold, she has a mischievous mystery about her that makes her more like a mechanical fairy than a precious relic. What motivates her and how she sees the living and the undead remain to be seen....

Zuleika Dobson (pansexual cis woman) is a a con artist, thief, and scammer who has broken many hearts and far more bank accounts; her lack of concern about what she leaves in her wake may have finally caught up with her when she targets some valuable goods in a city with a vampire problem. Can someone so untrustworthy be relied upon when there’s undeath to deal with, or will her self interest put her in the way of both bloodsuckers and the USHAC alike?

33 Usher Street leans heavily on the public domain, and will do so much more than just in the few characters here that originated elsewhere. Some of these designs are likely to change as the story develops, but i’m just so happy to finally get them on paper!

[tisfan]

(I can) Brew this all Day

Title (I Can) Brew this all Day Link https://archiveofourown.org/works/24408346/chapters/58881478 Square Filled C5: Bucky/Wanda Ship/Main Pairing Bucky/Wanda Rating Teen Major Tags/Triggers/Warnings none Summary Wanda works at a coffee shop. Clint does not understand why she’s crushing on a patron. Word Count 1559

for @buckybarnesbingo and @livewire28

“You’re a fright,” Steve complained as she walked in through the employee entrance at Brew This All Day coffee. “Did someone throw a bucket of water at you?”

“It’s raining,” Wanda said, scowling. She knew her hair looked terrible, practically plastered to her head. She’d had an umbrella when she left for work, but it had gotten snatched up by the wind and by the time she chased it down, it didn’t seem to matter. She was already soaked through. 

Usually, she kept a spare dress in her work-locker for just such occasions, but she’d had to wear one last week when a customer did a “prank” and chucked an extra large frozen drink at her (with extra whip) so he could film it for his YouTube channel.

Steve had put him on the not-welcome-back list, but it probably didn’t matter. She was sure that the asshole had gotten fifty million hits or whatever and collected his cash from YouTube and he’d go around the rest of the city doing it to other baristas.

Whatever. She was going to have to work in a cold, wet dress and soaking shoes today and her hair was a mess.

“Your boy’s here,” Clint added. “I mean, I don’t get it. I can’t look at a customer without feeling contempt, so the idea of flirting with them really just-- they’re customers, therefore, idiots.”

“You’re an idiot,” Wanda said, trying suddenly not to throw up with nerves.

Not that it mattered. The cute guy who came to Brew This to study wasn’t going to ask her out any more than the hot guy who came in at odd hours of the night (Brew This All Day was one of the few coffee shops that was decent and open twenty-four hours a day) was going to ask out Steve, no matter how many longing looks Steve directed at that guy’s ass when he left the shop.

Customers might all be idiots, but they often didn’t even see servers unless they made a mistake. And even when that happened, servers weren’t… people. Not really.

Even the guys that flirted with her didn’t see her as a human being; someone to date and enjoy their company. They saw her as a conquest or a cheap, easy lay.

So it didn’t matter that she looked terrible, like a drowned rat, and that her clothes were going to wrinkle and be clammy and nasty all day.

He was just a decoration.

Someone with a perfect face and amazing shoulders and lovely hair.

A work of art.

And as untouchable as the same.

“Oh, my god,” Natasha said, uncoiling herself from behind the desk in the manager’s office. Technically, Nat was the shift lead, but Steve mostly had her doing the books because she was better at it than Steve was. She also set all the schedules, approved vacation time, and worked shifts when other people were sick.

Thus, not someone you wanted to be on the wrong side of.

“You look like you’re gonna puke,” Nat said. “Come here, change shirts with me.” Nat tugged off her scoop-necked black shirt with red accents, completely unphased by the way Clint stared and Steve turned around, the back of his neck going brick red. Nat had no body-shame, along with everything else.

Not that she had any reason to have it. She was quite attractive. 

Wanda took the proffered shirt, but went behind the door to change, giving Nat her damp dress in return. So, now she was in Nat’s too tight, too short top. And leggings.

Well, she might not look better, but at least she wasn’t soaked.

Nat rolled her eyes at Wanda’s shirt and grabbed one of the tees with the shop’s logo on it. Technically, employees got a 50% discount off all shop merch, but even at half off, Wanda couldn’t really afford a new shirt right now.

She wondered if Nat could, or if she was just going to count the peep show as part of her compensation.

“Get on the clock, witchy,” Clint said. “I want to get the hell out of here.”

“Remind me why I pay you again?” Steve mused, scratching his chin.

Wanda didn’t stick around to watch the rest of the argument; she’d heard that particular song-and-dance a dozen times before.

Steve was, actually, a good boss. He paid at least fifteen dollars an hour -- as soon as Seattle had instituted that as minimum wage, he was right there behind it. Also, he let them keep all their tips and didn’t cut himself in on it, even if he worked a shift behind the machines.

As advertised, the hot guy was at his usual table; she could see him almost the whole time she was working, except when she was directly pulling a shot. Probably for the best, since she needed to pay attention to the steamer and not to the daytime television god who drank caramel lattes with extra whip while he studied from a pile of books.

Wanda thought he was planning to be a social worker, or something. She had trouble talking to people outside of actual work interactions, even on the best of days, and when dazzled by the man’s eyes, she barely remembered to ask his name to put it on the cup.

Worst, he never said his name. He sometimes used initials (JB) but mostly he used a series of jokes. Manchurian Candidate, Winter Soldier, Special Snowflake. (She particularly liked that last one, which he used when there was an entire cadre of bro-ristas in the shop, the kind of guys who liked to lean on their privilege and tell Wanda that she had no idea how to make coffee. People talked about Karens in their Target, but she thought those friends of hers could use an afternoon with a coffee-house Chad and see which one was worse. Those guys had looked up to mock the person calling themselves Snowflake, taken one look at JB’s body-builder physique and shut the fuck up. It had been great.)

Fortunately, there wasn’t much of a line; just before lunch when her shift started tended to be dead, aside from the occasional harried looking mom, or the perpetual student.

She checked the house pot, found it relatively fresh. The pastry cabinet was well stocked. She counted out her drawer, signed in. Watched JB from the corner of her eye. He looked up as she came into the room, smiled, and then went back to scowling at his papers and books and computer.

She did a round of the floor, picked up a few stray napkins and straw papers, wiped down the tables. 

“Get you a refill?” she chirped, just like he was any other customer.

“Oh, would you?” JB asked, sounding like she’d offered a drowning man a lifeline.

“Sure, what are you drinking today?”

“Double-double,” JB said. “I’ve got an exam in--�� he checked his watch, “three hours.”

“Sounds fun,” Wanda said. “I have a short shift today, I’m off in six hours.”

JB looked up at her, eyes going wide. “Are--”

“I mean, are-- if you-- just saying--”

“Are you asking me out on a post-exam date?” The only thing good about the entire situation is that he seemed just as flustered and embarrassed as she did. And he hadn’t immediately told her he was in a relationship. Or gay.

“I mean-- if you wanted to, then, you know. Yes?” Wanda waved her hands around, wondering if a convenient hole would ever open up in the ground and swallow her. No such luck.

“Yeah, then, sure,” JB said. “I, yeah. I’ll either want to celebrate. This is my last exam before I get my degree, fingers crossed--” Wanda dutifully crossed her fingers for him “-- or I’ll want to drown myself in beer if it goes badly. In either case, company would be nice.”

“Yeah,” Wanda said. “Okay. We’ll do that, then. You can pick me up here, the red line’s just up the road, go anywhere you want.”

“Sure thing,” JB said. He jotted something down on a paper napkin-- when he handed it to her, it was a phone number. “Text me in a bit, then I’ll have your number and you’ll have mine. Just-- just in case.”

Wanda nodded.

She took the napkin, went back and got his double-double, and then got caught up in an entire busload of tourists from Maryland, none of whom had been in a coffee shop that wasn’t Dunkin’ Donuts or Starbucks in their life, and by the time she texted him, he was already gone to his exam.

Just sitting down. Wish me luck.

Wanda debated her list of emojis for a bit, and then sent him a snowflake, a four leaf clover, thumbs up, and several coffee and tea cups. Waited a few minutes, then sent a wine glass, a plate, and an OK.

OK Wine

“Somebody’s happy,” Steve commented, looking at her beaming at her phone.

“I have a date,” Wanda said.

“With Snowflake?”

“Yeah?”

“Good for you. Guess I owe Nat twenty dollars.”

“Why?”

“I bet that I’d ask Tony out before you’d get up the nerve to ask JB.”

“So, uh. You don’t happen to know his actual name, do you?”

Steve just laughed and walked away.

Awkward.

[emberfrostlovesloki]

To Be Held Chapter 2 - Running Out

Here is chapter two! 

Chapter warnings: Description of kidnapping. Mention of torture. Homophobic ideology. Description of sexual assault.

Spencer was on his side sleeping when his phone rang with a piercing shrill. He rolled onto his back, and he extended his long arm out to reach the phone on the bedside table. He didn’t even look at the name when he answered, “Reid here.” When he heard the voice of Garcia he sat up, suddenly awake. “Hey genius. Sorry for disturbing your beauty sleep, but I got your girl. “Give me a second.” Spencer said while turning on the lamp above his bed. The light hurt his eyes. He grabbed his notepad and a pen and sat down cross legged on the mattress. “I’m ready.” “Well, Venus Rising’s other name is Levi Hill. She’s an English lecturer at...” Before Penelope could get the rest of her sentence out Spencer filled in the last few words with, “Washington State University.” The computer whiz laughed and responded with, “Bingo. She teaches Queer theory, a class on Milton, and early British literature.” Spencer jotted down the information, and asked, “How long has she been teaching in Washington?” “Three years. It looks like she moved here from Ohio after getting her masters degree at Notre Dame. She’s twenty three, and before you ask, she doesn’t have a big social media presence, so I can’t find that much more about her.” Spencer replied to this tide of information with, “You did a great job Garcia. With this information we have a connection between Mr. Pyne at the university and Ms. Grost at Fantasy Girls.” Spencer was always impressed by Penelope, and sometimes he was scared of her too. “Anything for a fellow friend with a superior intellect.” Garcia said, then continued by saying, “I’ve sent Ms. Hill’s profile from Washington State over to you, along with her LinkedIn, and just for a bonus, her dissertation. One last thing you might want to know, pretty boy, she’s got office hours at 1:00 tomorrow, office number 212.” Spencer checked his email and found the attachments. “Thanks again.” Spencer said. Garcia replied happily, “No problem, now it’s my time for my beauty sleep.” The line dropped, and Spencer ran his hand through his hair. The clock read 5:00 A.M. ‘At least I have a few hours to read over this material’ Spencer mused. He grabbed his glasses off the table. Got up and started making some of the lousy instant coffee. It was going to be a long day. 

The team entered the East precinct of the Seattle Police Department at 8:00 A.M. No one had really slept, which was usual in an active case. J.J. kindly handed Hotch, Gideon and Spencer a cup of coffee before pouring her own. As the coffee crew assembled around the milk and sugar. Gideon was adding a packet of sugar and stated, “This unsub feels very unstable to me, yet he’s methodical and calculated. It doesn’t make sense.” Hotch looked up from stirring the milk into his coffee and replied, “The unsub must be mission-oriented. We’re looking for someone that has a problem with religion or politics. He probably holds extreme beliefs.” The four members of the BAU moved into the room they had set up in and jumped into their assignments. Hotchner started by saying “I’m meeting Mr. and Mrs. Pyne at 10:00 A.M. today. Elle, will you come with me?” Elle nodded and said, “Of course.” Gideon then said, “I’m going down to the coroner's office to look at the death certificates of the victims, then I’ll go over to the forensic labs that ran the test on the orange fibers found at the scene. Spencer will join me. I might need your expertise at the lab.” “Actually I’m meeting a potential target that the unsub might have had contact with. Her name is Levi Hill. She’s a professor at Washington State, and an employee of Fantasy Girls.” The team looked  at him, surprised that he had found a connection between the two victims. Spencer continued, “I was hoping J.J. would go with me. I’ll go to the coroner’s office with you, but Ms. Hill’s office hours are at 1:00 P.M. and I plan on being on time.” Gideon chuckled that Spencer hadn’t just said he couldn’t go with him to the lab. But Jason also knew that Spencer didn’t like conflict and avoided it when possible. He smiled at the genius while saying, “Sounds like a plan.” J.J. finished the conversation by saying, “I’ve set up a press conference at 5:00 P.M. today. The media is getting restless and it would be best if we give them, and the police a profile by then.” The team grouped up and into their assignments and headed out to the cars. 

Mr. and Mrs. Pyne lived in a modest house on the edge of town. Hotchner and Elle were seated on a couch which faced another couch facing them, where the Pyne’s sat. Pictures were spread across the coffee table that showed Jefferson Pyne; the photos ranged from the smiling blond haired boy as a child to an adult version of the child standing outside of a dorm on the Washington State campus. “So, Mrs. Pyne, you said that Jefferson was doing well in school? Did you notice any changes in him in his sophomore year? Were there people who disliked your son?” Mrs. Pyne swallowed and wiped at a tear that fell down her face. Before she responded Mr. Pyne squeezed her hand reassuringly. She started by saying, “Jefferson excelled in school. He loved living in the dorms and meeting new people. During his freshman year he came out as gay.” Before Mrs. Pyne could continue, Hotchner interjected, “And how did you react to your son’s coming out?”  Mr. Pyne smiled a little and said, “We try to be very open in this household. We told our son when he was younger that he could love anyone he wanted when he grew up.” After Mr. Pyne finished answering the question his wife continued by saying, “I was so proud of him the day he told me that he was gay, so, so proud.” Mrs. Pyne then bent over with a sob. She tried to hold back her tears, but they flowed down her cheeks. Mr. Pyne held her close to him and continued answering the questions with, “In Jefferson’s sophomore year he moved back home and commuted to school everyday. He wanted to live in an apartment, but we were having some financial troubles and it would be much cheaper. Mr. Pyne stood, allowing his wife to sit and gather her emotions. He gestured for Elle and Hotch to follow him. The trio walked up the stairs to the second story of the house. Mr. Pyne opened the second door on the left and said, “This room was Jefferson’s. We haven’t moved much in here except for some of the photos you saw downstairs. We’ll be downstairs, take all the time you need.” Mr. Pyne stepped out of the room and walked down the stairs, and went back in the direction of Mrs. Pyne. 

The bedroom had a bed, desk and lamp. A pride flag adorned the wall next to a BYX banner. Hotch looked around the room and noticed the banner. “What fraternity is BYX? I haven’t heard of it before?” He looked to Elle. She was examining the book shelf that held a lot of college textbooks. She replied, “BYX stands for Brothers Under Christ. It’s a Christian fraternity that is known for their service to the community.” Elle didn’t know how much she believed in Christian fraternities or sororities, but she had a feeling about Jefferson. She told Hotch, “I don’t see anything suspicious about this kid. I suppose that he could be getting some backlash for coming out, but other than that, I don’t think he had enemies.” Hotch replied, “I agree. The parents don’t seem like likely suspects. Let’s go down and look at Jefferson’s laptop. If he was getting hate for being gay we might see it online.” The pair of agents stepped out of the room. Elle gingerly closed the door to Jefferson’s room and followed Aaron down the stairs into the living room. 

The coroner’s office was very cold inside. Spencer folded his arms over his chest. Conserving the heat between his arms, shirt and maroon vest, and his body. After a minute an older man walked toward them. The man extended a hand toward Jason and said, “I’m doctor Stanley. I examined the bodies and wrote the cause of death” Gideon retracted his hand and said, “My name is Agent Gideon, and this is Dr. Reid.” Dr. Stanley took the time to look at Reid with unbelief. Stanley even rolled his eyes until Jason asked, “Do you have the files on Mr. Pyne and Ms. Grost ready for us?” The older doctor said, “Follow me.” He turned on his heel and walked quickly down a white tiled hallway. Spencer and Gideon followed behind him. Stanley unlocked a room that held a metal table and chairs. On the table lay two files. Stanley said, “Here are the files, if you have any questions you can page me.” With that being said the coroner walked away. Reid couldn’t help but sarcastically say, “What a professional man.” Gideon replied, “Agreed.” In the same tone as Spencer. The two men sat down, each grabbing a file off the table. After fifteen minutes of silently reading Spencer found something odd in the report on Ms. Grost. “Gideon, it says in the report that we got at headquarters that she had been raped. In Dr. Stanley’s report he only states that “‘the body was bruised in the primary sexual organs. If she was raped, why wouldn’t he have written that?” Gideon looked at the page that Spencer had handed him and replied, “Let’s find out,” while punching the button to Dr. Stanley’s pager. 

Stanley walked reluctantly into the room with Spencer and Gideon. “Did you have a question?” the older man asked with condescension, looking at Spencer as he asked. Spencer looked back at the doctor unfazed and said, “I was wondering why in one report rape was explicitly stated, but in your analysis of the body you don’t?” Stanley cleared his throat and responded by saying, “The body hadn’t been penetrated by male genitalia. It was clear that an object was used. Under certain definitions that would not be considered rape.” Spencer looked a little sick at this information, and Gideon was angry. Jason stood, holding the page in his hand pushing it in front of the coroner. “You didn’t think it was important to tell us that the victim had been raped with an object instead of a dick.” Gideon breathed out harshly and turned to Spencer saying, “We have the information we need. Let’s go.” Jason’s tone calmed when he looked at Reid. Reid made him feel like a father again, and he couldn't let himself be mad around the younger agent. Spencer stood and neatly placed the folders on top of eachother on the table. As He and Gideon walked toward the door. Before Reid left the room he turned to Dr. Stanley and stated cooly, “I’ll be talking to your superior when this is over, about your apparent lack of empathy and understanding of medical terms dealing with trauma.” With that Spencer turned on his heel and left the cold room behind. As he and Gideon walked to the car Reid took a moment to close his eyes and feel the sun on his skin. The long night was getting to him. 

In an unknown location a cabin surrounded by trees came to life with a shrill cry. Inside a man was tied to a wooden table. His legs and arms were bound in the shape of the cross. A figure dangled a cross above the body of the man who was tied down. “God told me that I should give you the chance to repent. You claim to be a man of God, preaching his word to those people who will burn in hell. It’s heretical!” The tormented man breathed laboredly, and coughed up some blood. The man stammered out shakely, “God states that he loves all people. Therefore I practice giving love to all people .” The man standing over the preacher laughed grimily and responded to his captive comment by saying, “God said that there would be false teachers in the end times, what a blessing I’ve found one. Now repent, or I’ll send you to the pit.” The preacher couldn’t say anymore, he was in so much pain that his mind couldn’t put words together anymore. Before the pastor passed out from the exhaustion of his position, he thought, ‘Lord save me. Lord.” 

Gideon dropped Spencer off outside the main campus of Washington State University. Just as Spencer got to the student union he spotted J.J. standing outside the campus bookstore. When J.J. noticed him, she walked to him, and he asked, “How was it today in the station?” J.J. sighed at the memory and said, “The press had so many questions that are going to be answered in four hours if they were just patient. Instead I was forced to copy and paste the same response to fifteen different outlets.” Spencer had spotted the coffee shop above the bookstore and checked his watch, which read 12:25 P.M. “That does sound very boring. How would you feel about grabbing a coffee before going to office hours?” J.J. smiled at the idea and agreed. The two of them climbed the stairs. The date to the football game had made it clear that she and Spencer weren’t meant for eachother. But that didn’t invalidate their friendship. With coffees in hand the duo from the BAU found the English building and waited outside office 212. Spencer was leaning against the doorframe reading a basic philosophy book when he heard footsteps coming their way. He closed the book and stashed in his shoulder bag. The young women who walked toward her office didn’t look like what J.J. or Spencer had expected. “May I help you?” Professor Hill asked as she attempted to grab the keys to her office while holding a large box of blue exam books. Spencer pulled out his badge and said, “I’m Dr. Reid and this is agent Jareau. We’re from the Behavior Analysis Unit from the FBI. We have a few questions for you profesor Hill.” Ms. Hill looked surprised for a second, but she quickly replied with, “It’s nice to meet you Dr. Reid, and you agent Jareau. If you give me a second, we can go into my office. I’m happy to answer any questions you have.” Spencer quickly put his badge away and offered to hold the blue books. With the package out of her hands, Ms. Hill was able to grab her keys from her backpack and quickly unlocked the door to her office. She flipped on an office light and plugged in two lamps on each side of the desk, lastly she pulled a chair from one wall and placed it next to another chair at the desk. After she had finished all this she said, “Come in.” J.J. went in and took a seat, Spencer followed. He shut the door to the office with his foot, still holding the box of empty exam books. “I can take those now, thank you.” She took the box out of Spencer’s hands and placed it on an empty shelf of an overflowing bookcase. She sighed at the sight of the exams and then sat in the chair across from the agents, just as Spencer took his seat. 

With notepad and pen at the ready Spencer began the interview with, “How long have you been living in Seattle Professor Hill?” Ms. Hill replied, “I’ve been living here for three years now. I was offered an adjunct position at the university during my final semester at Notre Dame.” Next, J.J. asked, “When did you start working at Fantasy Girls?” At this question Hill’s eyes briefly glanced over to her Master’s degree hanging on the wall before she looked at J.J. and said, “My second semester of teaching at this university made me realize that I wasn’t going to pay off my student loans as a professor. Even with financial aid and scholarships my debt after school was more than I could pay off in twenty years with my current position. In December I got an advancement in the University and I signed up to work at Fantasy Girls.” Spencer nodded his head at hearing about needing to pay off debt. Although he was fortunate that his parents had paid for his education, he knew people that were consumed with debt for the rest of their lives, it destroyed them. Spencer continued the conversation by inquiring, “Were you friends with Sydney Grost, or was she just a colleague?” Hill smiled at the question and said, “I remember my first night hosting; I had a client that was very insistent that I go back to his apartment with him. Well Sydney walked over to him and said, “‘If you keep harassing her, I’ll go over to your apartment and break every window I see with a brick.’” Sydney was very protective of all the girls. She and I worked a lot of jobs together and we’d always get coffee at the end of the night. Sit and talk about what we were doing tomorrow. She was great.” As Hill finished the answer she took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. It was clearly an attempt to stop herself from crying. Spencer looked away from the professor for a second too, not wanting to make her feel awkward. J.J. then asked kindly, “I know this is a sensitive question, but have you, Sydney, or any other women you work with gone back to a client’s apartment or house?” Ms. Hill ran her hand through her short hair. She took another breath and looked at J.J, and said, “The people I work with, they're like a family. We see each other at least three times a week. We see each other nude, or almost nude, and we complain about our lives. Whether or not some of the escorts have worked in that way I can’t say with certainty. We have to have some boundaries and that’s one of them.” She looked to J.J. to see if that was enough, “I’m sorry I have to ask this, but have you solicited sex after work?” J.J. did feel horrible having to ask a question like that. The blond agent knew that the work paid and therefore had to ask. Hill shook her head before answering, “No. I’ve never wanted to risk my position, not even for that much money.” J.J. nodded and jotted down the answer. Spencer placed his head on the side of his hand and tried to think of something he was forgetting. He thought for a moment, and then he it hit him, “‘social media.’” After realizing there was something strange about the professor’s media he quickly asked, “You don’t really have any social media. Is there someone you’re trying to avoid, or get away from?” Ms. Hill replied, “Being an escort isn’t really seen as a moral profession. If anyone found out what I do I’d lose my job, my friends in church and the opportunities I might have once I can move forward from here. The only person I’m trying to actively avoid is my father, but he lives in Florida, so I doubt he’s trying to find out where I am.” J.J. then said, “I think you’ve given us a lot of good information Professor Hill. I know you have class in twenty minutes. We’ll get out of your hair and let you get ready for that. Thank you so much for your time.” Ms. Hill smiled and wrote something down on a sticky note. As she handed the note to J.J. she said, “Here’s my cell number, email, and schedule for my other job. I hope you find the person who’s doing this, and stay safe.” When she finished saying this she stood and extended her hand to J.J. and Spencer. The FBI agents stood and Spencer opened the door for J.J. As the blond agent stepped out Spence pulled out his card and handed it to Hill and said, “If you see anything weird, or you feel unsafe, feel free to call me.” Ms. Hill smiled and said, “Thank you Dr. Reid.” 

Gideon had picked up the results from the orange fibers. They had from a basic rope and could be bought at any hardware store in town. Although that lead had been disappointing Jason hoped that once Reid had a loot at the retort he would have more input on the evidence. As he was leaving the lab he got a call from Chief Best. “Gideon here.” The leader of the BAU listened for a moment before quickly picking up the forensic evidence and ran out of the lab. As he slid the seat of his car Jason replied to the police chief by saying, “I’ll let the team know, and I’m headed to the house right now. 

The latest crime scene had new features that the others had not. Firstly, it was fresher than the other scenes. Secondly the victim had enemies in the community. James Reeve was a pastor and had been scrutinized by some of the other churches for teaching a doctrine of tolerance for some communities often marginalized by denominations of the Christian faith. As Morgan walked around the room he commented, “Reeve’s church is close to the Washington State Campus. It’s the central point to all of these cases.” Reid was confused by the new victim and said, “Why would the unsub take a college pastor? It doesn’t fit the profile. It’s likely the unsub is around the same age as Mr. Reeve. There seem to be a thousand directions this case could go.” Hotchern replied, “If the unsub is changing his targets every time he finds a new victim he could be trying to throw us off the trail. Or maybe he’s becoming more unstable. Afterall, this is the first time that he’s shown a sign of forced entry.” Gideon looked up from the door that had been forced open and said, “I’m certain that all of these victims are related in some way. The unsub is just getting bolder, braver with his abductions. I think that he’s making his final preparations for an important kill. We have to go back to the station and give a profile. Once the officers have it we need everyone looking for a person that meets the profile. We’re running out of time.” 

[presidentrhodes]

Spider-Man Far From Home spoilers

I just finished watching it and, honestly, I’d say it was a pretty good way to bid farewell to the first three phases of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. 

Spoilers under the cut. This is pretty long and rambly. 

1. Midtown high is supposed to be a school for geniuses but these little shits use comic sans in tribute videos and steal watermarked Getty Images pictures to put in them. I loved it, particularly with the song choice and the fact that Vision’s picture was from the Civil War airport standoff in Leipzig — that means only Peter could’ve provided it and no one bothered to ask how he got it. 

2. Tom Holland really wasn’t kidding when he said the film was a love letter to RDJ/Tony Stark. He was everywhere, his sacrifice was being recognised around the world: they even had a documentary on him, which was available in the in-flight entertainment, plus, there were murals and photographs in Venice and Prague. He was very much present throughout the film. 

3. EDITH. In a nutshell, it’s an augmented reality-enabled AI that controls a tactical and defensive system Tony built to protect Earth in the aftermath of his demise. Think Ultron’s perfect self minus the winning personality — EDITH controls a bunch of massive Stark Industries satellites in orbit that are equipped with thousands of weaponised drones. It can remotely target individual threats and take them out with simple voice commands. It also is able to connect to any network in the vicinity, so, Peter was able to see what his classmates were doing on their devices. 

I’ve already seen so many angry posts comparing EDITH to Project Insight without taking into account a) intent; and b) the reality of the MCU. Tony didn’t build EDITH for the same reason Zola built Project Insight. The former was meant to be a last or first line of defence, controlled by an Avenger Tony personally trusted. The latter was a means to subjugate the world population to Hydra’s will. 

All tech in the MCU is dangerous when it falls into the wrong hands — that’s why they’re called the wrong hands and why Steve once said the safest hands are their own. The supersoldier serum gave us Steve Rogers; it also gave us the Winter Soldiers, a bunch of dangerous, invincible highly-trained assassins. Pym particles gave us Ant-Man and the Wasp as well as time travel; it also gave us Yellowjacket, who immediately wanted to weaponise the tech. The Iron Man suit gave us Iron Man; but also gave us Iron Monger, who wanted to build an army of metal soldiers. Wakanda’s highly-advanced weapon systems were able to withstand a full-scale invasion from the Outriders, but those same weapons almost started a global war in Killmonger’s hands. Project Insight and Ultron showed us the bad side of AI; JARVIS, Vision, FRIDAY, Karen and EDITH, to an extent, showed us the good side of AI.

The point is, technology in the wrong hands will always be a bad thing yet people only seem to gripe about Stark tech while ignoring every other piece of advanced technology we’ve seen weaponized or misused. I wonder why. Since the MCU canonically isn’t made up of one big Luddite colony, there’ll always be new technology being developed and bad guys finding ways to abuse them.��

Just look at the holographic tech Mysterio designed while at Stark Industries. Even before he was fired, his ambitions were grander and afterwards, he weaponized it and willingly sent people to their dooms so that he could play a hero. When 16-year-old Peter Parker, MJ and Ned — literal children — found out the truth and Mysterio risked being exposed as a fraud, he actively tried to kill them. Mysterio beat the shit out of Peter and threw him in front of an incoming high-speed train, so, no, I don’t care if Tony Stark was mean to him by firing him, he was a piece of shit who tried repeatedly to kill a kid. 

Tony, meanwhile, spent $600+ million on the holographic tech to design B.A.R.F — a technology with some really promising applications in the MedTech sector to help people overcome their PTSD and trauma. That’s the fucking difference between a superhero and a supervillain.

Sure, EDITH also has massive privacy concerns. That’s on Tony, but after the Decimation, I think people have bigger problems to worry about than whether Peter Parker is snooping on their text messages. Ultimately, EDITH offers Peter, and whoever else is going to fill up the Avengers roster in the future, a plan B to strike the bad guys from a safe distance. I

4. Tony left Peter in charge of EDITH. Not the Avengers, not SHIELD, and definitely not the US Department of Defense — a fact that actually pissed off Mysterio. Tony left it in Peter’s hands because he knew Spider-Man took the meaning of responsibility far more seriously than he ever did. All those years ago, Peter told him if one could do the things he could, and they didn’t, and then the bad things happened, they happened because of them. And, honestly, if anyone deserves to have control over such a potentially dangerous piece of tech that can help in future battles, then it’s Peter — even more so than Tony. 

5. Again, Peter is 16 in this film and still coping with loss and trauma. He willingly gave controls of EDITH to Quentin because Mysterio had everyone fooled, including Nick Fury/Talos — they’re both highly experienced soldiers. Fooling them wouldn’t have been easy and Mysterio’s plan was extremely well thought-out and perfectly executed. Peter redeem himself in the end and takes back control of EDITH. 

6. Peter and MJ were super adorable. Spider-Man is the only franchise apart from Iron Man, where the secondary lead characters are allowed to grow without it all being about the main hero. MJ is allowed to explore her feelings for Peter and measure them against Brad’s affection. Ned is allowed to also grow in his character and be more than Spider-Man’s best friend/guy in a chair. 

7. Happy and May were also adorable.

8. Happy ruined a perfectly good bed of tulips just to rescue May’s nephew and give him the TLC/pep talk he needed after, again, Beck pushed Peter in front of a high-speed train that would’ve killed an ordinary person. 

9. Peter confusing ACDC with Led Zeppelin is the most Gen Z thing ever. Happy watched Peter design his own suit and it reminded him of the times he spent watching Tony tinker in his lab. You could feel Tony’s absence pretty viscerally in that scene on the jet. 

10. Peter tingle. Lol. 

11. Happy’s words about Tony were beautiful. He said something along the lines of, “Tony was my best friend. He second-guessed everything he did. He was a mess. But the one thing he didn’t second-guess was picking you.” That really furthered the Iron Dad Spider Son narrative.

12. Iron Zombie was the w o r s t thing ever. Again, Beck emotionally manipulated 16-year-old Peter Parker and said if Peter was any good, his mentor would still be alive just as he projected an illusion of a decaying Iron Man corpse attacking him. To give you a sense of how manipulative he really is, he told his guy in the chair that Peter’s blood will be on his hands because he had failed to report a missing drone part that MJ had discovered in Prague. 

13. Peter finally understanding that he doesn’t have to be the next Tony Stark or Iron Man. He just needs to be the next Spider-Man and Peter Parker. 

14. Peter choosing to safeguard EDITH. 

15. J. Jonah Jameson and J.K. Simmons. That is all. He’s the MCU equivalent of Alex Jones and I love him so much. I wonder if this means we’ll see Doctor Strange offer Peter his help to erase everyone’s memories about the reveal of his secret identity. 

16. Every Nick Fury scene automatically becomes 2000x funnier when you realize it’s Talos posing as Fury and 90% of the time, he has no idea what the fuck is going on and he’s just winging it as he goes along. Also, he was furious that he and his wife, as members of a shapeshifting species, were unable to detect Mysterio’s ruse. 

17. Mysterio was a douchebag. Apart from trying to kill actual kids because he feared they might expose him, he did nothing worthy of a hero. He was jealous and angry about Tony, and he wanted to usurp Iron Man without doing any of the hard work. He willingly put people in danger, was prepared to sacrifice people to make his actions seem more realistic and wanted to take credit for saving the day and preventing an Avengers-level catastrophe. I’ve already seen reviewers trying to sympathise with Mysterio, and his persistent attempts to kill a 16-year-old kid because Tony was apparently mean to him. 

18. And, no, Tony did not steal B.A.R.F tech from Mysterio as some review sites are claiming. The narrative is unreliable at best because we hear only Quentin’s point of view — the same Quentin who had been using his holographic tech to deceive people and put them in harm’s way because he wanted to shake the Queen’s hands or some misguided bullshit. He deserved to fired. Plus, he was a Stark Industries employee. Tech companies almost always own the patent to whatever tech you design or invent for them when you’re on their payroll. It’s how corporations work.

19. Tony quoted Henry IV to Fury when he told him to give EDITH to Peter and said Spidey wouldn’t get the reference (Heavy is the head that wears the crown) because it’s not Star Wars. It was a nice, poignant moment — made funnier when you realize that’s Talos in disguise, which means at some point, Fury had to have a conversation with him about Shakespeare and Star Wars. Someone pls write the fic. 

20. The most important thing is that this film actually tried to address the Decimation. Endgame pretended to gloss over it to give Gay Joe Russo his 15 minutes of fame. But this film actually started with May and Peter organizing an event to help the displaced. Pepper sent a huge check and apologized for not being able to make it in person. :( 

20a. I love Jake Gyllenhaal. I had expected Quentin to be a dramatic thot but he really brought a lot of depth to the character. 

Overall, I liked the film a lot more than I had anticipated. Some people are going to scrutinize this film to death to prove Tony was the ultimate MCU villain and, hey, if that’s the hill they choose to die on, I don’t really care. After 11 years and 23 films later, if they still think that Tony was the real villain all along, then nothing we say or Marvel does, will change their mind. 

Personally, I thought this film was a good send off to Tony, now that they’ve firmly established that Peter Parker/Spider-Man is going to be the new face of the MCU and will carry with him the Iron Man legacy. He wasn’t always right and a lot of his choices tended to backfire but, in the end, his motivations were good and he still went out as the man who saved the world. He, unlike Beck, or Vulture before him, never tried to kill a child, not even when he brought him to a parking lot brawl among friends. 

Now, if only Marvel can just leave Tony’s legacy alone and let Peter, and the rest of the MCU, thrive on its own instead of retconning established Iron Man lore to fit new narratives. 

[nebulous-frog]

Stand Proud

Summary: Dan finally got the job he’d always wanted: he was officially the newest curator at the Marquee Art Museum. He already had the perfect idea for his first exhibit and with the much-needed support of his coworker, Phil, he could make it a reality.

Word Count: 4645

Genre: Getting Together, AU, Fluff

Warnings: Mentions of homophobia (no actual homophobia though) 

Author’s Note: This is my work for the @phandomreversebang​! Big thank you to @vacationphan​ for betaing and being lovely and awesome! Also thanks to @yiffandquiff​, my artist! 

ART 

Link to AO3 Fics Masterlist

Walking into his new curatorial job for the first time, Dan felt extremely overwhelmed and underqualified. Sure, he wasn’t exactly new to museum work - he’d gone to school for years, done internships all over and worked his way up from a few museum historian jobs. When none of that was working fast enough for him, he started his YouTube channel about art and art history, gaining a few million subscribers quicker than he thought possible. Everything he’d done had been building up to curation, and every step of the way made him more sure that that was what he wanted, solidifying his love of museums and art. The journey had all been to prepare him for that goal, so he should have felt ready -this was what he’d been waiting for his whole life.

Dan couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t loved museums. They held overflowing knowledge and laid it all out in interactive exhibits for people to enjoy, and he’d always loved it. He learned so much about so many different things, with topics changing at each new museum he visited. He couldn’t get enough. His favourite, though, would always be art museums.

His earliest memory of going to an art museum he remembered with special fondness; his mother had dragged him along to one to spend time with a friend, but she didn’t expect him to like it. He was barely four years old, after all, so it didn’t seem likely that a quiet, dully-lit museum would hold his attention for long. In fact, she’d been hoping he wouldn’t like it so she would have an excuse to politely extract herself from the outing.

Alas, it wasn’t meant to be. The very first painting they saw had Dan enchanted. His mother’s friend was chattering on about something neither Howell cared about, but Dan paid her no mind. He just stared up at the painting, in absolute awe of the colours and shapes. When his adult companions tried to move on to the next painting, he wailed, devastated at the thought of having to leave behind something so beautiful. Finally, his mother managed to pick him up and carry him farther into the exhibit before stopping at another painting with her friend. Dan’s tears ceased, eyes widening, as he took in the sight of this new art.

The painting was of waves crashing in a storm out at sea, a small boat fighting to stay upright in the distance. The canvas was textured with all the layers of paint, and a fascinated Dan reached out to touch it, but his mother was holding him too far away. He kept his arm outstretched despite the failure to actually touch, too fixated on the art to notice.

For the next several hours, the trio slowly made their way through a few exhibits, stalled by Dan’s wonderment (much to his mum’s chagrin). He wouldn’t remember any of the paintings later, only the feelings of absolute awe and joy that accompanied each piece of art.

And that was just the beginning of Dan’s art museum experience. Art museums became his favourite place. He’d visit the one nearest to his home any spare moment he had and insisted on exploring new ones in all the cities his family travelled to.

So now, as he finally became a curator at an art museum twenty-three years later, he could not have been more thrilled. The Marquee Art Museum had seen his YouTube videos delving into the history of modern art pieces and decided he was perfect for their new curatorial position. His job would be to curate galleries specifically targeted towards the next generation of museum-goers. They even encouraged him to maintain the channel he loved so much, rather than insisting he quit to focus solely on his work at the museum.

It wasn’t a very big museum, but it all felt so intimidating. Dan was in charge of things now and he’d be working with people- not just that, people would be working for him. Following the receptionist through the museum to the director’s office, he could feel the pressure building. The galleries looked amazing already, so anything Dan added to the legacy would have to be equally as amazing. He hoped he was up to the task.

As it turned out, he wouldn’t have to be up to it immediately, at least not on his own. The museum director explained how his first few months would progress as soon as he got to her office.

“Since this is your first job in curation, I felt it best that you have a guide,” she began. “I have every faith in your ability, but I want this to be as smooth a transition as possible for you. Our curator of photography, Phil Lester, currently has the least on his plate, so he’ll be helping you acclimate. He’s a lovely chap, so I’m sure you’ll get on beautifully.”

Dan felt his heart leap in his chest. Phil Lester was a YouTuber like Dan, posting mostly content about museums, but while Dan covered art history, Phil talked about his experiences in museums as both an employee and a visitor. Dan had been following and adoring him for ages, but they’d never met; he was fairly certain Phil didn’t even know he existed. But now they were going to be working together, which was both exciting and terrifying.

His boss shuffled some papers around on her desk, finally finding a file and handing it over to Dan, unaware of the internal freak-out Dan was experiencing. “This has information about what I expect your schedule to be for your first gallery, as well as budget information. Phil will help you look through our art database and come up with a plan. Any questions?”

Dan shook his head. “I think I’ve got it.”

She smiled. “Great. Well, that’s all I have for you for now, so I’ll have Louise take you first to your desk and then over to Phil.”

As Dan left her office and followed Louise, he felt the anxiety rising once more. The pressure of starting this new job was not at all helped by the fact that Dan was about to meet someone he respected and looked up to so much. He’d met other YouTubers before and they could be such snobs sometimes, so he was doubly anxious about meeting Phil. But as soon as Dan saw him, he knew Phil’s internet persona was his real personality and they’d hopefully become fast friends. There was something about the brightness of his eyes and the easiness of his smile that reassured Dan.

“Phil, this is Dan Howell, the new curator.”

Dan gave an awkward wave. “Hey, good to meet you. I’ve seen some of your videos - big fan.”

“Oh, really?” Phil said brightly. “I was about to say the same to you!”

A flush of pride washed over Dan. “Thank you! It means a lot.”

Louise coughed awkwardly, reminding them she was still there. “Well, I’ll let Phil take over from here so I can get back to my own job. Lovely meeting you, Dan!”

Soon after, they were sitting at Dan’s desk. Phil quickly helped Dan pull up the collections database on his computer.

“Alright, Dan. What do you have in mind so far?”

He’d been anticipating this question since he’d gotten the job, but he still had no answer. He knew what his dream gallery would be about, but he wasn’t quite ready to commit to any true ideas without knowing what he had at his disposal. He also wasn’t sure he was ready to share something so personal with someone he’d only just met, especially if his idea was rejected on the first day of his dream job and by someone whose work he admired so much.

“I’ve got a few vague ideas in mind, but I need to browse through some art first, I think. If that’s okay, I mean.”

Phil smiled at him, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “That’s totally fine! Do you want to start anywhere in particular, or shall I choose? Fair warning, though: I’ll probably start with photography.”

Dan chuckled. “Works for me.”

For the next few hours, Phil sat with Dan as he scrolled through the database, chiming in with fun facts about the art as they went. Sometimes it would be interesting historical tidbits, but more often than not it would be funny comments on what the subject of the art was thinking.

As time went on, Dan saw enough of the kind of art he was looking for that his ideas started to coalesce into a unified theme that he could work with. A particularly inspiring photo finally pushed him over the edge, comforting him enough to make him feel safe sharing his ideas with Phil.

“I’d really love to do a gallery of queer art,” Dan blurted, interrupting Phil’s latest strand of artist facts. “Like, LGBT+, not weird art,” he clarified as Phil remained silent.

Phil’s eyes were wide with surprise, and for a moment Dan was worried he’d made friends with a homophobe. But then a grin slowly spread across Phil’s features.

“I can’t believe I never thought of doing that! That’s brilliant!”

Dan let out a relieved sigh. “You really think so?”

Phil nodded enthusiastically. “Of course! What a great way to involve and inspire young adults in the arts! Do you have any more specific thoughts yet, or is it just that so far?”

Clicking a button to bookmark the photo on the database, Dan shrugged, then turned to shyly look at Phil. “Well, I’ve actually been thinking about this for years. As a gay man, I’ve always wanted to see an exhibit of queer art, so I’ve been considering what I might do to curate one for a long time.” He paused, trying to make it seem like he was simply gathering his thoughts before continuing, when in reality he was attempting to gauge Phil’s reaction to his sexuality. He figured Phil wouldn’t react poorly, given his support of the gallery idea so far, but he also knew from experience that he could never be too careful.

When Phil offered a beaming smile of encouragement, Dan smiled back and relaxed, launching into the meat of his idea. “I want to have this gallery feature as many queer artists as possible and all the art should be about a range of topics within the queer experience,” Dan described, confidence growing as he spoke. “Some of it should be political, some of it should be art for art’s sake, some should describe coming to terms with being queer, and some should just show queer people being happy.” He stared at the picture he still had up on his screen. “Happy like this.”

The picture was a black-and-white photograph of two men dancing together, maybe a waltz, totally lost in each other’s eyes and smiling so fondly that Dan ached to be in love.

When Dan shook himself out of his reverie, he found Phil smiling at him and had to shake himself again; surely, Phil couldn’t be that fond of him already.

“I really love this idea. I’m gay, too, by the way, so I think it would be great to get some more concentrated representation out there. I’m pretty sure I know of some pieces that would fit already, if you want?”

Dan grinned. He was about to begin the process of curating his dream gallery and it would be by, for, and featuring members of the LGBT+ community. He couldn’t wait.

“Absolutely.”

~~~~~~~~~~

For the next few weeks, Dan and Phil were hard at work refining the theme of the gallery and compiling the art for each part. They rarely disagreed on their creative decisions, which was truly a blessing, but when the occasional disagreement arose they easily remained level-headed and could talk through the issue until a compromise was found.

In the second week, Phil suggested they hang out after work and get to know each other better outside the context of the museum, so they headed to Dan’s flat. A Chinese takeaway dinner and some Ribena later, and they were battling intensely in Mario Kart and laughing hysterically. For the first time in a while, Dan felt perfectly content.

Dinner and Mario Kart nights continued on, mostly as a weekend tradition after the third week.

That was when Phil offered to collaborate with Dan on a few YouTube videos, one for each of their channels. Dan, of course, agreed immediately, so they planned to film on the weekend. Neither of them worked at the museum on weekends, which left them with plenty of time to film and then chill for a while, their friendship growing stronger by the minute.

Back at the museum, the gallery plans were progressing well. Every so often, the significance of what they were putting together would hit one of them. Dan would lean back in his chair, an excited smile growing on his face, wondering at how he’d managed to get to this point.

He’d grown up with such little positive representation and had always desperately craved something, anything to reassure him that being himself was perfectly okay. He couldn’t go back in time and fix his childhood, but he could be a source of hope for young people now, and that meant so much to him.

But Dan already knew how significant this would be. How could he not? He’d been thinking about curating a gallery like this for over a decade by now. What really warmed his heart was when Phil had moments like that.

The first time it happened, they’d been poring over stacks of photographs by queer artists when Phil froze halfway through lifting one off the pile.

“Phil? Are you okay?”

Phil blinked, his eyes wide and fixed on the next picture he could see.

“I- It’s- It’s just that, well- This is going to sound totally ridiculous, but this picture feels really important. I’m not sure what it is about it, but I know it’s important.”

Dan rolled his chair down the table closer to him to take a look at the photo Phil had just uncovered. In the photograph were two men, faces close together. They’d clearly just been kissing, but they were grinning too much to kiss now.

After a few moments of silence, Phil spoke again.

“I can’t stop thinking about how this could help someone, you know? How it could even be life-changing. In a good way, I mean.”

Dan felt his heart clench. It wasn’t only him; Phil saw the value of what they were putting together and knew they were making a difference. It felt so good to know he wasn’t alone.

“People are gonna see this and know that being gay doesn’t have to be a bad thing. You can be gay and still be happy like anyone else,” Phil continued. “I don’t think enough people have been told that. I wasn’t told that; I had to figure it out myself.”

It hurt to hear Phil say that. He didn’t sound sad, necessarily, but he said it so matter-of-factly that it was like an emotional slap to the face for Dan. It meant that, at some point in his life, Phil hadn’t known that he could be happy being gay. Dan could relate, but the last thing he wanted was for Phil to feel that way, too, and he was so glad it seemed that Phil had learned since then, whenever it was.

After a quiet moment, Dan softly replied, “Add it to our pile.” He gestured between the photo and the stack of pictures they’d already agreed should be in the gallery. If this photo meant something to Phil, it would mean something to some teenager that wanders through the gallery. “I think this exhibit will do that, too. But I hope it does more. Like, this will be some good representation for LGBT+ visitors to see but it’ll show people who aren’t all that aware of the community the same things.” He absentmindedly straightened a photo that had been bumped before continuing, “This whole thing will basically say, ‘Queer people exist. Choosing not to accept them is not an option.’”

Phil hummed in agreement, already picking up the next picture. “Write that down, we should put it on a text panel somewhere.”

Dan laughed and pulled out his phone to put it in a note. “Saved for later.”

“Good.” Phil nodded, then looked at Dan, a soft smile on his face. “I’m glad to be working on this with you.”

A blush coloured Dan’s cheeks and he found it difficult to hold Phil’s gaze but did long enough to offer a shy smile and a mumbled “Thanks” before rolling his chair back to his spot.

~~~~~~~~~~

After all their planning, the exhibit technicians made quick work of putting everything in place. The night before the opening of the gallery, Dan and Phil checked everything one last time.

It was always hard to get people to follow the “proper” order of the exhibit without flat-out putting numbers, but Dan had made peace with that. Not everyone would experience the exhibit in the same way anyway, so there was no point getting upset over the struggles of enforcing exhibit wayfinding. But he and Phil had curated the exhibit with a specific visitor path in mind, so Dan followed it one more time, experiencing his exhibit as he’d intended.

He started out turning to the left directly inside the gallery and stopping in front of the introductory panel, “Stand Proud” painted on the wall in bold letters. Unlike much of the text in the gallery, Dan had written that panel himself, running it by the museum educator before it was finalized. It talked about the importance of representation and how everyone has a different life story, but this exhibit sought to highlight some of the key unifying factors of the queer experience.

If this exhibit helps even one person, the text concluded, we will consider it an enormous success.

Next, Dan moved through the first section of the exhibit, which featured art that told the personal narratives of the artists. Some of it was abstract, showing only vague colours meant to symbolize different phases of life, while some of it was hyperrealistic, depicting detailed tableaus of the ups and downs.

When they were working through the details, Dan and Phil had agreed that as much as they wanted to make the gallery all about the happy parts of being queer, they had to be true to real life, and that meant art about homophobia. They limited this part to a smaller corner of the exhibit, as much as was possible, because they knew how easy it was for queer narratives to be consumed by the negativity. Dan wanted to acknowledge that negativity as a vital part of identity formation, but he refused to let it control or define the exhibit - or queerness - as a whole.

The second section of the exhibit was art of queer people just being queer. There were paintings of same-sex couples, parodies of famous works but gayer, photographs of same-sex weddings and dates and kisses, and queer domestic scenes just like any other era of art might have with couples and families. It was a celebration and normalization of the joy queer people have the capacity to know. This was Dan’s favourite section.

The third and final section was all about pride. Pride flags, pride parades, pride colours, proud defiance of the society that had worked so hard to deny even the existence of the LGBT+ community for generations. This art was like a living thing, practically screaming “We’re Here! We’re Queer!”

On the wall near the exit to the exhibit were a blank canvas and an array of markers. Next to the canvas was a panel explaining the intention: direct interaction with the exhibit. The canvas was for signatures of the people that came through the gallery, be they queer or an ally. A second panel was nearby to summarize the exhibit; Dan had written this one, too. He wanted a personal message to tell people that their identities were valid and could not be stripped away.

The future is clear: It’s pretty queer.

Dan stared at what he had written for a long moment before Phil joined him.

“It all looks amazing to me,” Phil whispered. “What do you think?”

What did Dan think? He couldn’t say. He was too overwhelmed to think. All he knew was that it was perfect, so he just nodded.

“Then how about we put in the finishing touch, hm?” Phil gestured to the canvas. “After you.”

Dan nodded again and approached the bucket of markers, pulling out as many different colours as possible. In rainbow order, he wrote “Daniel Howell”, then stepped back so Phil could do the same with his own name.

When he was done, Phil put the markers back and walked to the front of the exhibit to speak with the exhibit technicians, still anxiously waiting for approval. Dan barely registered the movement, instead letting his feet carry him back to the middle section of the exhibit as if in a trance.

The black-and-white photograph of the men waltzing, the photograph that had captured Dan’s eye and reassured him enough to create all of this, rested in a neat frame. A happy moment in time, captured for future generations to see.

In the background, Dan was dimly aware of the sound of Phil dismissing the technicians for the night and footsteps. A few moments later, Phil’s shoulder brushed against his own.

They stared at the photograph in silence for a long while. Dan’s expression was completely blank as he drowned in his emotions and thoughts until he finally spoke.

“As a teenager, this would have been exactly what I needed. The photo, I mean. Just this small promise that there’s hope out there for someone like me.”

Phil nodded but didn’t say anything. Dan continued after a short pause.

“I was so alone back then. I didn’t understand anything that was going on and I was terrified. This picture sort of reminds me of that, I guess. But not in a bad way.” Dan bit his lower lip, then slowly rolled it back out from between his teeth. “I’m infinitely happier now than I was then, I think, so seeing this now and remembering back then has me recognizing how much better it’s gotten. I had no hope then, but I’m essentially living what I would have hoped for.” The first of many tears rolled down Dan’s cheek as he turned his head to look at Phil.

Phil was already looking at him, eyes soft and lips turned up in a small smile. He reached out a hand and brushed away the tears.

“Thank you, Phil,” Dan choked out, then cleared his throat. He would get through this and say what he had to say. “You’ve been so helpful throughout this whole process. This exhibit is a dream come true and I can’t imagine having done it without you.”

“Oh, Dan,” Phil whispered, slipping his hand into Dan’s. “Thank you for letting me be part of something so important and personal to you. It’s been an honour, truly.”

A sob escaped Dan’s lips and Phil cooed. He gently tugged Dan forward into a hug, running a hand through curls as he tucked Dan’s face into his neck.

It was a while before Dan calmed down enough to step out of the hug, but eventually he noticed the cramp in his back from bending and leaning into Phil and had to stop.

“Let’s go ‘round mine for some hot chocolate, yeah?” Phil offered, and Dan nodded his agreement with a weak smile.

Not long later, they were giggling as they clambered awkwardly out of a cab, still holding hands since the gallery. They had to let go to make the chocolate and get comfortable on Phil’s sofa, but Dan replaced the hand-holding with cuddling right up into Phil’s side, his head resting on Phil’s chest and his feet curled up beneath him.

They sipped their hot chocolates quietly for a while, placing the empty mugs on the coffee table when they were done. Dan supposed he should probably get off of Phil and head home, but he couldn’t make himself move. He was entirely too comfortable and enjoyed Phil’s company too much to get up now.

Phil seemed to feel the same way, as he snaked his arms around Dan and pulled him closer. Dan’s brown eyes met Phil’s blue ones and he forgot how to breathe. Phil’s eyes were trained on his own with the fondest expression he’d ever seen, and then they dropped down to his lips briefly before returning to his eyes. For a tense moment, Dan thought nothing would come of it, but then he saw Phil lean in slowly, eyelids drifting closed, and their lips met softly in the middle. They parted after only a few seconds.

Dan knew that they’d have to talk, figure out what this was, but for now all that mattered was how much he liked Phil and how much Phil clearly liked him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dan cried again when they opened the gallery the next day. He couldn’t help it; it was his major curatorial debut and he’d gone and done something extremely personally significant. He couldn’t keep his emotions under control in the slightest and it was horrifically embarrassing. Phil was standing very close next to him and was in the prime place to witness Dan’s breakdown, but he still hoped that Phil wouldn’t notice. Of course, he was never that lucky.

Moments after the first tear rolled down Dan’s cheek, a hand brushed against his own. Surprised, Dan turned to look but immediately cursed himself; he’d just faced Phil directly and now there’d be no hiding his embarrassment.

He looked away again as fast as possible and pretended to be intensely focused on fixing the rainbow flag pin on his lapel.

“Hey,” Phil murmured, leaning in to make sure Dan could hear. “It’s okay.” His fingers slipped between Dan’s so they were holding hands and squeezed gently.

Another fat tear escaped. “No, I’m just being ridiculous. I already did this yesterday and-”

“No way,” Phil insisted. “I cried for my first exhibit, too. This has been building for you for years, it’s okay to show a little emotion.”

Dan swallowed thickly, careful not to choke out his response. “It’s not just about it being my first exhibit, though. You know that. I’m caught up in thinking about how much I would have loved this growing up, and the people this could help now that it’s here and-” he took a shuddery breath. “It means a lot.” He glanced back at Phil through his lashes, not quite willing to look at him directly yet.

A soft smile played at Phil’s lips, one that told Dan that he understood completely.

“I’m so proud of you,” Phil whispered.

Those few words broke the dam and suddenly tears were streaming down Dan’s face, uncontrollable.

“I’m- I-” Dan squeaked. “I need a minute.” He pulled his hand out of Phil’s and raced to the nearest toilet, hiding away to regain control of his emotions.

He’d been so busy recently that he hadn’t had the time to process anything. The last month had been absolutely frantic, full of throwing together the final key parts of the exhibit and swapping things around and navigating this growing relationship with Phil. It had finally all caught up to him, slapping him in the face with so many realizations and feelings that it was hard to make sense of it all.

All he could say for certain was that he was happy. Obnoxiously, blindingly happy.

[tinsley-goldsworth]

with great power comes great responsibility (chapter 4)

summary: they have one shot to take down the shadow once and for all and ryan never thought he would have to fight this hard for a happy ending

read on ao3!

After the initial shock of the Shadow’s attempted shock wore off, everybody began getting situation. Ryan was surprised to find that Ned Fulmer and his wife, Ariel, were the ones who had found the office and they helped assign two people to an office room. Of course, Ryan was assigned to a room with Marielle and he didn’t take long to unpack his belongings before he and Marielle helped others get situated. Andrew was still having a hard time adjusting and Adam and Annie were still trying to help him feel better. The healer who had been keeping the building safe was Keith Habersberger, which was surprising as Ryan never knew that Keith had powers.

Keith had informed Ryan that only half of the Try Guys were in the safe-house because the Shadow got to Eugene and Zach before they could get a chance to leave to the safe-house. He and Ned weren’t the only ones who lost people who were dear to them; many other people in the safe house had azure auras from feeling despondent about their losses.

The office wasn’t the worst spot to be trapped in but it wasn’t the most ideal location either. There were plenty of bathrooms but there weren’t any showers because there was really no need for an office to have showers until you were forced to stay inside it for two days. There weren’t any beds, which meant everybody had to sleep on the floor, but Ned and Ariel had enough sleeping bags and blankets that each pair of people could share one of the two. There was only one kitchen available and the food supply was sparse, to say the least. On the bright side, they only had to bear with these uncomfortable conditions for forty-six more hours. But then again, facing the Shadow wasn’t much more desirable than staying in the safe-house.

Settling in took about an hour and there was another hour of people wandering around the office building with either the intent on exploring the place or numbly trying to walk off their negative feelings. After those first two hours, Ned and Ariel assembled a meeting to discuss a plan for when the safe-house was no longer safe and to establish a few rules. The meeting was held in a large meeting room and everybody stared at the blank whiteboard from the office chairs around the long table they sat in.

As Ariel and Ned explained the rules and a couple things they needed to know about the safe-house, the tension was now not in the silence or hushed whispers, but rather in people’s expressions. Ryan didn’t need to read people’s auras to tell that they were worried. Sara had her arms wrapped around Obi in a tight embrace and Shane looked exhausted. Even Marielle’s aura was starting to dull a bit as she looked unbelievably stressed.

After the couple in charge finished setting down ground rules, Jen stood up from her seat and Ryan, along with many other Buzzfeed employees in the room, was shocked. Out of all the people in the building, Jen seemed like the least likely to have her life put-together enough to handle the responsibility of explaining a plan as she had the reputation of being a messy, spontaneous disaster gay.

“Okay folks, listen up if you don’t want to die. Technically, as a seer, I’m not usually allowed to tell you these sorts of things because of complications with the future and stuff but-” Jen paused when she saw Adam raising his hand with a confused expression on his face. “Oh, right, I forgot about that.”

Jen took a moment to take out her contacts and revealed her golden eyes. Ryan wasn’t the only person who audibly gasped at her reveal as Jen had the most intense gold eyes Ryan had ever seen, which meant that she was an extremely powerful seer. Jen must’ve had a reason for hiding her being a seer but now was not the time to ask questions about her decisions. She clasped her hands together, a small smile still on her face. Even in the darkest times, Jen somehow always was the one to stay positive. “Now, as I was saying, I’m telling you all this because it’s important for you all to know about what we need to do in order to stop the Shadow from hurting more people.”

Jen proceeded to pick up a blue expo marker, taking off the cap, and began drawing on the whiteboard. “The plan is pretty simple and it should work as long as we make sure we don’t mess up. Only a few people are really needed in order to destroy the Shadow and all the other people have to do is distract it, which is another thing I have to explain, but that’s for later.”

As Jen spoke, she drew some stick figures on the board and when she stopped talking, she stepped away from the whiteboard and gestured to it. She had drawn a couple stick figures arranged in a circle and there was another circle of people around it. In the center of the two rings of stick figures was a dark ball of squiggles that was presumably the Shadow. Pointing at the whiteboard with the back of her marker, Jen turned towards everybody and explained the obvious, “This is the Shadow.”

She dragged her marker over to the inner circle of people and continued, “These are the people with superpowers who we need in order to destroy the Shadow. They will combine their powers and then send that as a blast to kill the Shadow. But they have to all be holding hands in order to combine their powers.”

Then, Jen moved the marker over to the outer circle of people. “After the distraction has been created, the people who have been busy with distracting can move out of the circle so they don’t disrupt the people with superpowers.”

“Now, back to the Shadow just targeting people with superpowers point I made a couple seconds ago,” Jen pushed the cap back onto the marker and as she talked, she animatedly gestured with it. “We can confuse the shadow by having pairs share powers. Long story short, pairs are pairs of people, usually with one person who has a superpower and the other without, and who you’re paired with is usually who you’re closest with. It’s sort of like a soulmate system but the pairings can be platonic. If you’re paired with somebody, it means that you were chosen to share powers with them.

“Anyway, nobody on this planet has figured out how to share superpowers but after realizing that pairs were an important part of this plan, a bunch of seers came together and tested ways to share powers. Ned and Ariel actually helped a lot with this so everybody give a short round of applause for this lovely couple, who both, by the way, are so wonderful for arranging all this for us.”

There was a short break of scattered claps and Jen paused for a moment to wait for the applause to die down before resuming her explanation. “It’s hard to explain how to share your powers but basically, you kind of just have to let your energy flow through you, like how they tell you to do so in yoga, while holding their hand. Let me demonstrate. Annie, do you mind standing up?”

Annie looked confused but she nodded, standing up and walking up next to Jen. Jen gently grabbed Annie’s hand gently and closed her eyes. While Annie’s aura had been a deep purple and Jen’s aura had been a lighter lilac purple, Annie’s aura shifted to a lilac purple and when she blinked, her eyes suddenly turned golden. Jen stepped away from Annie as Annie blinked in confusion, wiggling her fingers. “See, Annie seems like a seer but she doesn’t have all of my powers. The effects will wear off in an hour. Also, surprise, Annie and I got paired. You should be able to find your pairs pretty easily.”

“You still haven’t told us who’s in the inner circle yet,” Ariel reminded and Jen grinned as she twirled around to face the board. She seemed to be in thought for a moment before she turned back towards everybody.

“I believe the order is Ryan, Marielle, Sara, Adam, Keith, Ned, and me. That’s about it. The plan is pretty simple,” Jen leaned against the board and she seemed to be radiating confidence, even though her aura was still a lilac purple. Everybody, despite still being a little shell-shocked from the Shadow’s attack, seemed a little more at ease knowing there was a way to defeat the Shadow. However, Andrew was the only person who didn’t seem too excited about this plan as he leaned back in his chair with a frown on his face.

“This sounds so cheesy. It sounds like it was taken directly out of a movie,” Andrew complained and everybody turned towards him, not really surprised that he was stepping in to provide a cynical viewpoint. After all, he just watched his best friend die and probably didn’t really want the responsibility of helping people save the world.

“Do you have any other plans? Weapons don’t work on the Shadow. Oh, by the way, I’m Marielle. I’m also a seer,” Marielle smiled as people shifted their attention towards her. Most of them didn’t seem to know her but they seemed to agree that Jen’s plan was the most reasonable as after her remark was made, there were a few nods. Andrew slumped in his chair in defeat and Jen clasped her hands together again, hoping to ease the awkward tension.

“Great! We’re all on the same page! Now, we have forty-five hours to chill out, test our ability to share powers with our pairs, and enjoy life before we face the Shadow!”

~

The last few hours of the day consisted of people figuring out what pairs they were in and figuring out how sharing powers worked. As Jen mentioned, most pairs consisted of one person who had superpowers and one person who didn’t but in Ryan and Marielle’s case, they both had powers so they didn’t need to share.

When Jen was talking about pairs, a thought occurred to Ryan: the reason why Marielle’s aura was silver could be because she was paired with him. He didn’t feel the need to share this theory and decided that he could wait until he had the chance to ask her on a proper date.

Slowly, people drifted back to their rooms to sleep and while Ryan was used to staying up extremely late and only getting four hours of sleep, the events during that day were a lot to handle and he found himself more exhausted than usual. He quickly fell asleep next to Marielle under the blanket they shared and when he woke up the next morning, he found that Marielle was curled up next to him, her head gently nestled next to his shoulder.

For that reason, Ryan didn’t want to get up but he was fully awake and antsy, meaning that he definitely couldn’t fall back asleep again. He decided to carefully get up and head into the kitchen to make some coffee. The coffee machine, fortunately, was working so Ryan made one cup of coffee for himself and another cup for Marielle. By the time he returned to his room, Marielle was up and she was sitting on a chair, glancing out the window.

“Good morning. I made you some coffee.” Ryan handed Marielle a cup and she accepted it gratefully, smiling widely. He pulled up a chair and sat next to as they both stared out the window into the cloudy sky. The wind had stopped blowing so rigorously but there was still some wind kicking up loose pieces of debris on the road. The silence between the two was nice but Ryan broke it when his insistent curiosity got the best of him.

“Are you sure this plan is going to work?” Ryan tentatively asked and Marielle turned towards him, a look of surprise crossing her face.

“Yeah, why?” Marielle’s voice had an edge to it, as if she were tending up and waiting for something to happen. Slightly regretting asking the question, Ryan shrugged his shoulders and tried to brush off his remark.

“No reason. It’s just that, you know, it’s good to be sure.” Even though Ryan thought his reply was rather passive, Marielle didn’t seem to take it that way. Her grip on her cup of coffee tightened and she turned her golden eyes away from the window.

“Do you just not trust me and Jen? Or seers in general?” Marielle’s voice was starting to get louder as her anxiety began creeping its way into her thoughts and words. Her aura was tinting a slightly redder purple and her worry was starting to morph into anger. Having dealt with quick emotion changes, Ryan knew that this was just a natural response to the situation. The best way to handle any abrupt change in emotion was to stay honest.

“Mari, it’s not that I don’t trust you. I’m just scared that if it doesn’t work, people are going to get hurt. I’ve already lost Steven, I can’t afford to lose you.” Ryan didn’t mean to let the last part slip out and Marielle set her coffee on the windowsill so she could properly hug Ryan. They both hadn’t really talked much about how they had been feeling and as the silence settled as they hugged, they knew that they had each other to rely on.

Their intimate moment was broken by Shane, who knocked on their door and cheerily announced, “Breakfast is ready!”

Breakfast was slightly less gloomy than the meeting and everybody seemed to have a little more hope than the day before. The next day mainly consisted of people trying to relax and distract themselves from the Shadow by listening to music, walking around, etc. The day after, from the moment morning broke, tension was starting to bubble again as it was the day they would face the Shadow.

Breakfast was finished quickly and everybody began preparing with two hours left to spare until the protection spell wore off. Once the protection spell wore off, the Shadow would be immediately drawn to the building as there were a large number of people with superpowers in it so everybody had to be prepared. Nervous energy was piling up in the building as people asked Jen questions about the plan to clarify certain aspects and tried to mentally prepare for the battle. They only had one chance at taking down the Shadow and they couldn’t afford to fail.

Half an hour before the spell wore off, everybody began fusing their powers with their pairs. Ryan found that he had trouble reading auras after the powers were fused so he couldn’t tell how everybody was feeling but he still felt the general dread in the air. However, since fusing powers required holding hands, some people seemed a little more hopeful as they held their partners hand, not only to fuse powers, but also for comfort. It was nice to know that even during the darkest times, love and care could still provide some light.

 Finally, the protection spell wore off and the wind began howling ferociously outside. Everybody shuffled outside, staring up into the ominously dark sky as they awaited the arrival of the Shadow. Sure enough, the Shadow came barreling towards the group of people gathered in front of the office building. As much as Ryan wanted to run away screaming, he stood his ground, gritting his teeth as he reminded himself that he needed to do this for Steven and everybody else who was gone.

Marielle must have noticed Ryan’s anxiety as she delicately intertwined their fingers together, even though they had no need to hold hands, and shuffled closer to him reassuringly. As the Shadow drew closer, Jen shouted over the sound of the wind ripping through the air, “Don’t forget the plan! Scatter! On the count of three.”

“One.” The Shadow was leaving behind a trail of debris and rooftop shingles were flying everywhere. It looked more enraged than it had been before, somehow emoting pure rage in nits formless tornado-like body.

“Two.” Ryan’s heart was about to explode. He had never felt his heart beat so fast before, not even when he was locked in a musty, dark room for ten minutes straight talking to ghosts and demons. Marielle squeezed his hand reassuringly and that simple gesture provided some strength. He stood up a little straighter and took a deep breath as the Shadow continued to get closer.

“Three!” The Shadow was only a few buildings away and was roaring with the fury of thunder and the power of earthquakes. Everybody scattered and Marielle let go of Ryan’s hand, joining the fray. Ryan didn’t know who was who but he brushed past people as he focused on trying to confuse the Shadow.

The Shadow paused as it hovered over the mass of people scrambling around, too confused by all the fake superpowers and having trouble distinguishing which souls were the ones that actually contained powers. Ryan noted that the people who were in charge of distracting were starting to move towards the outskirts of the clump and he took it as a sign that the people in the inner circle were starting to form the circle. He grabbed onto Marielle’s hand and also managed to find his way to Jen. The people in the outer circle left the clump and by the time the Shadow realized what had just happened, the people with superpowers were already in a circle with their hands connected.

Ryan closed his eyes and tried to allow the energy to flow through him just as Jen had instructed. He found that he could feel the powers of others pulsing through his fingertips and when he opened his eyes, his feet were floating off the ground. There was a strange but intense blue aura around everybody in the circle and as people began opening their eyes, they all were shocked by the fact that they were floating.

“Woah, is this a Guardians of the Galaxy moment?” Even though they were in the middle of trying to defeat the Shadow, Ryan couldn’t help but make a movie reference. He couldn’t wait to tell his brother that he got to levitate in the air while holding hands with other people with superpowers. From across the circle, Keith laughed at his reference and Ryan broke into a smile.

The Shadow was trying to rip the souls of the people in the circle out but their souls were secured in their bodies. Jen seemed to be concentrating on controlling the flow of energy and Ryan could feel the energy starting to build up. Her golden eyes opened and with a determined expression, she snarled at the Shadow, “This one’s for killing Steven.”

With those final words, the energy finally built up to its maximum power and there was a loud blast of blue. The blast was so powerful it caused Ryan to lose his grip and he flew backwards, skidding against the pavement. Dust had kicked up and Ryan coughed as he stood up, brushing off the dirt on his hands. The sky was slowly brightening and the looming clouds began parting quickly, like a wave receding back into the ocean.

Fortunately, Shadow was nowhere to be seen and Ryan saw that Marielle was standing up as well and rushed over to check in on her. She was coughing and waving away the dust from her face as Ryan hurried over to her. “Are you okay?”

“Never been better. How are you?” Marielle asked as she stood up straighter, her golden eyes blazing with triumph and her lips starting to form a grin. Her curls were out of place but Ryan could not stress the fact that no matter how messy her hair was or how tired she looked, Marielle was always going to be the most beautiful girl on the entire planet.

“You still look so beautiful even though we just killed the Shadow,” Ryan remarked breathless as he lightly placed a hand on Marielle’s face and Marielle smiled even wider. She took a step closer to him and maintained the perfect amount of eye contact.

“We just killed the Shadow and that’s the first thing you say?” Marielle raised a joking judgmental eyebrow and Ryan tried to form a proper sentence as he kind of had trouble thinking with Marielle’s face being this close to his. Luckily, he didn’t have to say anything as before he could speak, Marielle closed the gap between their lips.

It had been ages since Ryan kissed anybody so the first few seconds of the kiss mostly consisted of his brain forming key-board smash thoughts. Then, he managed to reciprocate the kiss and gently placed another hand on the side of Marielle’s neck as they continued to kiss. They didn’t stop kissing until they heard Shane clapping and they both blushed as other people joined him.

Ryan was sure that he was going to die of embarrassment but before he could melt into a puddle of distress, Marielle pulled him into another kiss and the world seemed to fall away, leaving them two to celebrate their victory.

~

After the Shadow disappeared, everybody struggled to return life back to the way it was. Projects were created to help support families who lost their homes to the Shadow and Ryan and Marielle settled down together. It took them an embarrassingly long time to admit their feelings but it was worth it. News reporters and scientists were stunned alike at how quickly the Shadow disappeared and nobody seemed to have witnessed the blast other than the people who were in it so the Shadow just seemed to disappear without any rhyme or reason.

Most of the damage was fixed with money from governments who felt guilty about not stopping the riots but the deaths caused by the Shadow couldn’t ever be fixed. There were fewer people with superpowers now and Ryan missed being able to share a knowing smile with empaths he encountered on a daily basis.

Then, a few weeks after the Shadow disappeared, people who had their souls taken were suddenly coming back to life. They woke up confused and everybody began to search for lost people who came back to life. The moment Andrew heard this news, he immediately left work and drove to the office building, where Steven’s body had been placed in and surely enough, Steven had come back to life.

Now that everything had been restored, all that was left was for the world to learn its lesson about hate and how it literally tore the world apart. It would take the world a long time to fully accept this lesson but for now, Ryan didn’t want to worry about the future so he could some time with Marielle.

~

that’s the end of this fic! thank u for reading and supporting my work! check out my bfu fics on the page on my blog :D

[sandersidess]

Antique Loving (WIP)

So this is Royality (background Analogical) that I was working on and I just never finished. I hope to finish it, but I hope you enjoy this.  So enjoy this and hope you enjoy! This is just pure fluff, that I can’t even write angst on.  Words (so far): 2,023

-

Virgil and Logan sat in Virgil’s dorm room as they looked through the pictures they took of their friends, being all sappy and antique on communicating their love.

“Oh! Roman made sure these flowers had a meaning,” Virgil chuckled and showed Logan the picture of Roman in the flower shop, “He was getting so demanding with the poor employee.”

Logan laughed and pulled out his phone, scrolling through his pictures and found one of Patton, “See this? Patton wanted to choose the perfect dress to go see Roman, and it took us hours before we even left. The dressing room was a mess.”

“Where were they going?” Virgil chuckled, looking at the picture, “That was a cute dress.”

“They were just going to get lunch off campus the next day,” Logan says, Virgil laughing and shaking his head, “Right?! He would have looked fine in just a skirt or jeans and a striped t-shirt, but he insisted on a dress!”

“They are hopeless romantics,” Virgil pointed out.

“They really are,” Logan smiles, both going through their pictures.

-

Roman walked into his dorm and threw himself on Virgil’s bed, grinning like a fool, even after startling Virgil and having his papers being sat on.

“What the hell man?!” Virgil yelled at him, shoving him off his bed, gathering his papers, “This is my homework!”

“Whatever, I need your help,” Roman waved his hand and kept grinning, “I might out romance Patton this time.”

“What do you mean?” Virgil asked, setting his papers aside and looked at Roman, “Are you two still doing that weird thing?”

“Since we both met that first day in psychology,” Roman laughs and sighs happily, “I just love him so much.”

“Yet, you two have yet to date,” Virgil rolls his eyes, “How can you love him?”

“It’s love at first sight!” Roman says excitedly, standing up and looked at Virgil, “I just know it! Besides, I know he’s the one that drops items off outside our dorm room. I just need to out romance him.”

“How will you do that?” Virgil asks, thinking this was all ridiculous, but he also found it adorable in a way.

“By doing old-school charming,” Roman says, going to his desk and grabs a notebook out, “I want to serenade to him this one Spanish song, but I’m saving that for later. But, I want to do poems, sending flowers, sending chocolates, just do old school! Letters on his door! Think about it, Virgil!”

“You really want to out romance this guy,” Virgil grins, shaking his head, “Well, I can help you with some of those things if you’d like, as long as I don’t have to interact with anyone.”

“Really? You’d do that?” Roman gasps, wanting to hug Virgil but held himself back, “You’re the most amazing friend and roommate ever!”

“Yeah, and it’d let me get some peace here,” Virgil laughs at how offended Roman looks, “Okay, how about we do flowers first? Those are really common, but to do it antique charming, we must leave it at their door with a note. Or have someone deliver it.”

“Perfect!”

-

Patton frowned at the knock on his door, looking over at Logan. Logan looked equally as confused at their room being knocked on. Patton got up and answered the door, raising an eyebrow as he saw their Resident Assistant standing there with a vase of flowers.

“Hey Patton, sorry to bother, but this came for you,” He says and chuckles, “You must have an admirer.”

“Oh wow!” Patton giggles and takes the vase, nodding at him, “Thank you, Dave. I wonder who it’s from.”

Once Dave leaves, Patton closes the door and sets the flowers down on his shelf. He smiles at the varieties of flowers, sniffing some of them.

“Who are they from?” Logan asks, getting up and walked over to Patton.

“Seems like they’re from Roman,” Patton blushes as he picks up the card between the flowers, Roman having written his name in calligraphy.

“That guy who acts like a prince and prep?” Logan chuckles and looks at the flowers, “He picked some really nice ones. Each one has a different meaning.”

“They do. He even wrote them down with a drawing next to them,” Patton whispers, reading the letter and smiled softly, “This is so old school.”

“Sometimes old school is the best,” Logan grins and goes back to his bed.

“Yeah, it is,” Patton whispers, smiling at the flowers and held the letter close.

-

Roman groaned as he threw away another piece of paper, which landed on Virgil’s side. Virgil raised an eyebrow and picked it up, throwing it at his head, which caught Roman’s attention.

“What is wrong with you?” Virgil asked, looking slightly worried.

“This outline for my research paper is all wrong! I got it approved, but I hate how the outline is coming out!” Roman groaned, slamming his head on his desk.

Virgil flinched at the noise and was about to answer, but there was a knock at the door. He frowned and got up, answering the door and saw no one. He looked around and saw a paper taped to their door, a chocolate Kiss there also. He took it off and walked over to Roman, handing him the chocolate and paper.

“I’m sure this is from Patton,” Virgil smirked, watching how Roman got up quickly excitedly and started reading the paper.

If cartoon hearts could surround a person in real life, then Roman would have many around him, all shining and beating fast. Roman stared at the letter as if it was a piece of gold and hanged it up on his wall, near his bed to read every morning.

“It is only November and you are already head over heels this guy. You really do love him,” Virgil chuckles, rolling his eyes.

“You bet I do!” Roman grinned, getting his spark back, “Now, I need to plan what present I will get him before we all go home for the break.”

“Well, you better hurry. Finals are soon and you won’t have much time,” Virgil pointed out and sighed, “I wonder how crazy you will go Valentine’s Day.”

“How dare you not know my eccentric ways?” Roman gasped, placing a hand over his heart while Virgil just laughed.

“Finish your paper, lover boy! I am not tolerating your 2-am-Redbull-infused self,” Virgil said, going back to work.

“Fine! But don’t call Logan again at 3 a.m.,” Roman sighed and sat down, “I do need my sleep and your conspiracies talk scare me. Also, when do you plan to confess?”

Roman smirked as Virgil’s pale complexion soon turned beet red in less than a second, stuttering out an excuse and just rambled. It ended with Virgil throwing his pillows at him, along with his cup.

-

Patton pouts as the weather didn’t allow him to wear skirts or shorts, being the first week of finals and it was crazy cold. He sighs and puts on his jacket and favorite boots, looking over at Logan who was finishing his packing.

“Have you decided what to get Virgil?” Patton asked, giggling as Logan blushed and stuttered, “You two are flustered gays.”

“Oh yeah? What about you and Roman?” Logan asked and smirked as it was Patton’s turn to blush.

“Not sure yet,” Patton shrugs and looks at the box on his bed, “I did get his present, and luckily our last final is at the same time! So, I’ll give him his present then. Can we go shopping later today? I need to at least look good on my last day with him.”

“You know it’ll only be a month away, right?” Logan chuckles and smiles, “But sure, I’ll take you. The outlet mall, correct?”

“Yes! Thank you, Logan!” Patton giggles and kisses his cheek, “I know I’ll win this round. There is no way he can beat me.”

“I’m sure of that Patton,” Logan rolls his eyes, having him go on his way for his first final.

After Patton left his final, which he left around 3:37 p.m., he sighed happily as he sat on the bus back to his dorm. He texted Logan quickly, who had been finished since eleven in the morning, Once he got off the bus, he saw Logan waiting nearby with his car. Patton smiled and ran over quickly, dropping his bag in the back seat and smiled at Logan.

“Ready?” Logan asked, starting his car and driving out of the unauthorized zone.

“Yeah! Let’s go before it gets full,” Patton smiled and counted his money, making sure he had the right amount, “Can we also stop by Cane’s on the way back? Oh, and we also need trash bags.”

“We’ll stop by Target then. Also, a card was left on our door. It’s for you,” Logan smirked, driving off campus and to the outlets.

Patton took it from his hand once handed to him and opened it quickly, revealing what was a drawing of him and a poem in Spanish. He did not understand a word from it, Logan would help translate it, but he was loving it as he read it:

Si nadie sabe ni por qué reímos ni por qué lloramos ; si nadie sabe ni por qué vivimos ni por qué nos vamos; si en un mar de tinieblas nos movemos, si todo es noche en derredor y arcano, ¡A lo menos, amemos! ¡Quizá no sea en vano!

Patton smiled warmly at the poem, along with the drawing of him from what seemed to be last week’s clothes. A pair of leggings, with a tan sweater and a grey scarf.

“He memorized what I wore last week,” Patton said in an awed tone, looking at Logan to what seemed to be heart eyes.

“You two are disgustingly sweet to each other,” Logan pointed out, shaking his head.

“You will be too with Virgil,” Patton giggled, “Soon, don’t worry.”

Logan was a blushing and incoherent mess from the comment, keeping his mouth shut and turning up the music. Patton sighed happily, holding it close to his chest. They soon got to the outlet mall, Patton sprinting out quickly before Logan even set the car in park. He decided to go to Agaci first, seeing as he got some of his clothes from there. However, there was none of his taste the moment he walked in and just left.

“PATTON!”

Patton turned around and blushed a bright red, not from the cold and running, but from seeing Roman walking over with his friend and roommate, Virgil.

“Oh my god,” Patton whispered to himself, hiding his face with his beanie.

“What are you doing here?” Roman asked, his voice sounding so smooth and rich to Patton.

“I um...you know…” Patton gave a nervous laugh and saw Logan running over, “I’m here with Logan! Yeah, he needed some pants and I came to help! Yeah, yeah that’s why-why I am here,” Patton swallowed thickly at the end and looked at Logan.

“Oh well, that’s nice,” Roman grinned at him, Virgil in the background taking pictures.

“Yeah…” Patton nodded and cleared his throat, “We should get going. I’ll see you on Friday for the final or not since you know-we and I-you-I’ll see you!” Patton left quickly and dragged Logan along with him.

“That was the most awkward conversation you have ever had,” Logan pointed out,  holding back a laugh.

“Oh shut it,” Patton huffed, “He caught me off guard.”

“Let’s go to Forever 21, I could use some new pants,” Logan said, laughing as Patton huffed and marched away from him, “Pat! Wait!”

-

Roman huffed as the weather was just getting colder, and it was snowing now for the first time in so many years. He thought it was pretty romantic, seeing as it was the last day of finals and he was leaving soon before it got worse. Patton was about to get out of his last final, and they agreed to meet at Patton’s dorm since it was in the middle of the campus.

Roman looked around, holding the present he was going to give to Patton.

[johannepetereric]

How Tasuku Sendou Meets Buddyfight

Tasuku Sendou first found Buddyfight when he was 8 (Wikia says he is 13) He walked into this new card shop that opened up at his new school. He was wearing blue graphic t-shirt of Dragonic Overlord “The End,” denim shorts, and red-and-blue crocs. His two decks were stashed in his belt, ready at a cardfight’s notice.

Since you are wondering why he is alone, it’s because his parents, Toshiki and Aichi Sendou, are checking out Aibo Academy for his schooling. They told him--well, Dad Tou-san told him--to check out the campus. Aunt Emi and Uncle Kamui, because he can’t let his kami leave his sight, were there as chaperones. He saw the shop across the sideway, with students of various ages staining the windows with cheese sauce, on their way by, and gave his Aunt and Uncle the slip. They were too busy discussing ice cream flavors to be responsible guardians.

A ring sounded through him as he stepped through. “Ohayo.” He looked around for a cashier, but no one was up front.

“My Vern Killer, Igulu deals 2 damage. Take that, loser!” He heard a teen male in the back, a crowd of whomever cheering him on. He jogged on over.

“I discard a card and Strange Kiteman blocks your attack!” An less-than-10-year-old screamed back.

“Tch! Don’t get cocky, weakling!”

Tasuku yelled, “Oi! Stop harrassing him! That’s not cool!”

The two boys didn’t stop the cardfight. The crowd looked even on who they’re cheering for.

Once he got there, slightly winded, Tasuku saw that the board was different.

He murmured to himself, “I’ve never seen that game before.” Not to mention the few obviously-out-of-this-world creatures surrounding the two of them that nobody commented on. 

It’s probably because he inherited Psyqualia, “I gave it to them” be damned.

The dude next to him gasped, looking horrified. “Nani?! You’ve never heard of Buddyfight?!”

“E-eto...what’s Buddyfight? Is it another TCG?”

“Yeah, you dumbf**k!”

Slap!

“Don’t say that, you moron!” The red-eyed bluenet growled.

“What’s going on here?” An employee asked.

Tasuku responded, “this bozo cursed me!” pointing at the ugly moron.

The dude moves to punch him, but the employee, who is thicc (yes, Author-san means to say this. He basically looks like your stereotypical mechanic/lumberjack but without the gunk) muscles, stops it. The dude starts yelling garbage. “Language, gaki! Do you want to be banned from this shop?”

“...”

The dude stomped away in a war cry, leaving the shop.

“This skill adds plus-1 attack! I win!” The younger player cheerily announces.

“Aaaaaah! You brat, I’ll--” The employee drags away the teen, his deck left on the table. The younger had already moved off, presumably to his friends, reveling in his victory over the maybe-bully. His...unit...trailed behind him...what a tiny unit...

Tasuku studies the board as a new pair begin their own cardfight, the maybe-bully’s deck shoved onto the floor. Remembering cardfight etiquette, he picks up the cards and returns them to the cash register. “Lost and found, please.” 

Tasuku watches a few more “Buddyfights” until the thicc man pulls him over to the cash register.

“Hey, kid, you wanna Buddyfight?” Tasuku nods. “Ok. What World would you like to choose from?”

“The boys both had Dragon World flags, right?” 

“You got that right, kid. Hey, what’s your name?”

“E-Eto...Tasuku Sendou, sir.”

“Sendou, eh? Related to Toshiki Sendou?”

“Yes, sir. Tou-san is playing in Germany right now, moving to Bulgaria in a few days.”

“Gaki, he’ll have to lose eventually.”

“I watch his plays live when I can, sometimes with Kaa-san.”

“Aichi Sendou, the best Vanguard player in the world, right?”

“Hai.”

“Well, then, Dragon World would be a perfect fit!”

Tasuku bowed, sparkly-eyed. “Arigato.” 

He received a booster pack along with a starter deck, free of charge. “You probably don’t have any dough on you, after all.”

Then the employee, who introduced himself as the manager, insisted on seeing him unpack the booster. 

The package ripped open like badly-done denim stitches. And he’s seen horrid “craftmanship,” if you could call them that. “Card 1....Grade 1 Dragon.”

“You’ll do better.”

“...Card 2--nani?!” They both gasped.

Card 2 glowed and went flying all over! Tasuku followed it out the shop, all the way to an empty parking lot out back. It manifested in blinding light, from which the eight-year-old blocked his eyes, and finally settled down into a humongous monster the size of a building. It roared.

“Eh??Who are you?!” It was green, with humongous, heavy armor, a black...thing for a head covering, and elephantous wings that could protect him from a storm. 

“Oh? First thing out of your tiny, human mouth is not ‘Are you my Buddy?’‘“

“Eto, I haven’t even played yet. I just came here not even an hour ago!”

“And yet, you drew me. What is your name, gaki?”

He stared it straight in the eyes, like he does any protester. “Tasuku Sendou. I love anything card-related!” 

“Hmmph! I am Jackknife Dragon, and I will be your Buddy!” Jackknife slipped back into the package in card form. And suddenly a skinny dude who looks like space-age Mumen Rider ran up and said, “Kid! This is the Buddy Police!” He looked tired out.

“N-nani?! I didn’t do anything,” the boy squirmed like his Kaa-san to defend himself. “Is that a Buddyfight thing?!”

“You have a new Buddy, right?”

“H-hai!” Swoosh! Mumen Rider shoved a deck right in his face. It had a

“It’s your Core Deck case! Every person who gets a Buddy recieves one. Take it!” Tasuku complies. (I’m going to copy Tasuku’s intro of Gao’s case from S1E1 onto here because it’s been years since I last saw the show.) “It can be transformed into a core gadget, which will allow you to Luminize your deck.” 

“Luminise?” (Ok, end of copy-paste. Back to Original Content!)

“Hai. Luminize. It activates your deck for a Buddyfight.”

“Like in a 3D Hologram format?”

“This is real-life, gaki. The monsters--”

“Monsters! That’s a bit mean, don’t you think?!” The Psyqualia user raged.

“Eh, the Monsters are fine with that, gaki!”

“That’s no reason to--!”

“ANYWAY, this comes from the Buddy Card Office. They’re in charge of the Core Deck cases.”

“Eh? Can I at least learn how to play, first?!”

“Whatever, gaki. I gotta go!” And with that, Mumen Rider sped away like a coward.

Tasuku sweatdropped and headed back to the shop to learn how to play.

Manager-sensei taught him how to play--with the board, thank goodness. Tasuku still had fun, even though it was a swift defeat.

After that, he thanked Manager-sensei and left with his new Buddyfight deck in hand. 

As soon as Tasuku left the shop, the dragon came back from Card form on his own into a chibi-Jackknife Dragon. 

And proceeded to pester him about his home life, to which the boy learned how to pester the other into silence.

About a dozen minutes later, he found Auntie Emi and Uncle Kamui. They greeted him back as if it was just a potty break. 

Back home, during the discussion with his parents on his schooling, he slipped in, “Kaa-san, Tou-san? There’s this new card game called Buddyfight. And--” he proceeded to tell his parents about his adventure, leaving out the part that he snuck off for it. Jackknife Dragon had already disappeared into his desk just before the three humans met up with the parents to take the half-hour bus ride home.

Tou-san said that they should make a sue list, for each time that the Buddy Police tick them off. For blackmail ‘n stuff. It’s not the first sueing list they have, and it certainly won’t be the last.

Anyway, it’s Aibo Academy, Elementary Division, for Tasuku Sendou now! As a 3rd grader!

Since then, the newbie fought many players, grew stronger at Buddyfight, bonded well with Jackknife, and became...the number 1 target of the Buddy Police. They pestered him at least once a week to join their force, child labor laws aside.

But he could never quite say the names of Buddyfight’s functions as they are. He instead replaced them with Vanguard terminology, and got booed for that. 

That is, until he met Gao Mikado. 

It started off a regular day. The day before, he defeated someone targeted by the Buddy Police. The hooker (he looks like a hooker) challenged him for being “the boy wonder cop,” even though he clearly isn’t a cop, and got obliterated in a Buddyfight.

Of course, that was taken on camera, and the fangirls wouldn’t stop chasing him if it wasn’t for the fact that he lived out of town. 

Another addition to The Buddy Police Sue(ing) List. At least Tou-san wouldn’t leave until the morning.

The next day, the Buddy Police blackmailed him into helping them with something during school--again. It turned out to be just another kid getting their Core Deck case, this one also being a giant dragon--although only about half as big as Jackknife.

He ran onto the courtyard from class, ready with the red case, as soon as he saw the flying, glowing card along with some other classmates, and bumped into Gao Mikado. He let Drumbunker and Gao have their speech before butting in with the damn mission. Meanwhile, the whole school took the time to run out to see the “dreamy Tasuku Ryuenji.”

“Cool, cool. Anyway, the Buddy Police have forced me to give you this.” He handed Gao the red Core Deck case.

By this time, practically everyone at school is be watching, even ones as young as his sister. And Paruko Nanana, Her Walking Horniness. 

Nanana shouted something about “Buddy Police business” or “for me, Paruko Nanana” from her UFO.

Tasuku turned to her and said, “I’m sorry to disappoint, Nanana, but I’m gay.”

“NANI?!”

“You look conventionally attractive, a depiction of cute, but I’m only attracted to guys.”

“This just in! Tasuku Ryuenji is not interested in girls!”

“Excuse me! The name is Tasuku Sendou, you dimwits! Also, the school has known this since I was eight! My parents signed me up for Aibo Academy for 3rd grade, and it was as Tasuku Sendou! My debut in the papers was as a gay child!”

Nanana cried, and about half the crowds. The rest sounded like conspiratorial whispers. Some must be the some of the few Vanguard players the school has. They were forced to take on a Buddyfight deck, or they’d be isolated and marked as the wirdos losers who should be avoided.

“Anyway, Gao-kun. It’s your Core Deck case, which all persons with a Buddy have. It’ll allow you to Luminize to Buddyfight anywhere, at anytime, kinda like a holo-system. It’s magic stuff. It also makes you an official Buddyfighter and stuff. Now that I’ve said my piece, I really must get back to class.”

“Oi! Ryu--”Sendou glared! “I-I MEAN Sendou-senpai, “Gao stuttered. “You can’t just leave me like that! What if I challenge you to a Buddyfight to help train me?” Gao shouted, restored back to his previous confidence. Tasuku felt a little queasy.  

The whole school gasped. “Oh?” Tasuku smiled. “You want to challenge me? Tasuku Sendou? The strongest cardfighter in all of the Aibo Academy student cast?”

“Cardfighter?”

“Yeah, cardfighter. I mainly play Vanguard. It’s my affinity. I also play Pokémon, Magic: The Gathering, Yu-Gi-Oh, Hearthstone, and various other card-related games, but to a much lesser extent. Don’t worry, I’m almost the strongest in the student cast in Buddyfight, too.” He beamed, truly excited for a good match. Gao looks hot enough for a “stiffy.” Drumbunker sniffed the air, surprisingly being able to detect this “foreign fluid,” as people called it.

“Sugoi! That all sounds so cool,” Gao had his eyes furrowed as he asked this, the smile looking fake. “How is it, liking guys?”

Tasuku shrugged. “I find it hard to explain to a cisgender straight male under the age of eighteen.”

Gao looked a vaguely stoned (yes, druggie-stoned, too) for like a second before snapping back. “A-anyway! Do you accept my challenge?”

“Sure!” Tasuku extended his deck outward, attempting to officiate the deal. “I accept your challenge to a Buddyfight!”

Gao responded by pointing his own deck, now in the Core Deck case, outward, sealing the deal.

The adults then reminded them that they still have class. They all agree to do it after school. 

Tasuku informed Kaa-san about this during lunch before drifting off to nap on a bench. This time, an elementary schooler woke him up 5 minutes before the bell.

At the match, (Tasuku does the same speech as in the anime), Tasuku goes first.

“I call my dragon army. Dragonic Force, Luminize!” His Core Gadget takes the shape of a red Flogal with yellow hair. It was decently sized. 

Tasuku again feels queasy listening to Gao, his sun symbolism and his protector’s spirit. 

At the same time as that’s happening, Aichi Sendou is recording his son. Toshiki-kun has to see this! Tasuku spies his mother at the same time that Gao spies his sister. Mother and son wave to each other. Tasuku holds up to two fingers with a closed-eye grin.

Too-dles! It doesn’t matter whether he wins or loses. He’s going to have fun, anyway.

When they see the center being empty, they think that Gao Mikado must have a plan. 

They weren’t disappointed. 

Tasuku sighs in resignation, and thinks to himself that that was fun.

At the sign-out with Gao, he says, “Good match, Gao-kun. You are certainly worthy of being my rival.”

“Eh?!”

“Yeah. Here. I give you Gargantua Punisher.” He does.

“Nani?! But that’s--” 

Gao sees a darkness overcome him, dragon-like eyes forcing him into shock. His vision goes hazy, an image of the picture on Gargantua Punisher change from Tasuku-senpai’s visage to his own in a blurry takeover. As soon as that happens, this paralyzing feelings goes away and he snaps back to reality. 

“Oh, and Gao-kun?” Nani? 

And suddenly he feels his heart skip a beat. Tasuku-senpai is right up in his ear! “About me being gay,” he whispers, deep and husky and Gao suddenly can’tbreathe! One needle-sharp red eye is dominating his. He feels an extreme heat pooling in his cheeks faster than a judo-slam. “I think you’re incredibly cute.” He can feel Tasuku-senpai-oh-my-gosh-he’s-so-hot! dragon-breath at his ear. The older runs off in a direction, his Buddy flying right behind him. 

Gao runs over to the other. “W-wait!” Gao practically squeals, though he would forever deny it.

Tasuku-hottie--wait, what?!--stops and pivots at him, flashing a different grin that has Gao in a stuttering, queasy-all-over mess. What am I feeling? Gao stops at the halfway mark. He hears someone gasp. “Hai, Gao-kun.” 

Oh my gosh, say it again! Gao feels like vomiting, noican’timustn’tgivein! He stands up straighter, trying to keep his cool. “I-I mean, I fe-f-f-feel I-uh-mm-ust give ya-you suh-something!”

“Oh? What ever could it be?” Why is he in my face?? It’s not even two inches!

“So-so, I-I can give you my-my Dragob-br-brave! I-It’s what h-helped me w-win, after a-all!” OhmygoshthisissoembarrassingTasuku-senpaihasacreepylookthat’ssendingmynervesallcray-crayandIjustwannacrawldownonmykneesandbegfor mercy--mercyforwhat? Gao shoves it at the older, thankfully distancing them-whatwashedoing?

“That doesn’t even come near to a fair trade!” The girl protests. 

Tasuku-senpai flashes her a different smile--OMGJUSTLOOKATMENOTHER! “It’s perfectly fine, Nanana.” The UFO girl looks dizzy, too andGaowantstofaintbuthecan’tcuz--

“Whatever you say, Ryuenji-senpai.” And faints. The UFO goes away and she falls. He doesn’t have the heart to try to save her.

Tasuku-senpai looks real mad again. He takes Dragobrave, but their fingers brush, and he still looks at Gao, and he says finally, “Oh, my. Can you say my name, Gao-kun?” Gao’s already-persistent blush is flooding to the rest of his body, and it’shappeningdownthereagainohmygoshpleasestoplookatmesenpai!

Then Tasuku-senpai leaves. Everything is a blur from then on, a wet nightmare of red stuff that leaves Gao defenseless and queasy and he feels about to vomit but he can’t cuz thats’swrong! He can vaguely recall hearing Tasuku-senpai greet a male he calls and looks his “Kaa-san,” and Gao can’t takeitanymore and his consciousness faints and doesn’t wake up to awareness until morn. 

[setaripendragon]

Familiar Strangers - Six: Genma

One - Two - Three - Four - Five - Six - Seven - Eight - Nine - Ten Bonus scenes: Five-Point-Five - Seven-Point-Five Okay, this is the part I’ve been looking forward to since I started this self-indulgent story of mine. (-whispers- The Life and Times of a Shinobi Den Mother by @blackkatmagic has absolutely nothing to do with how much I adore Genma. Nup, not a thing. -shifty eyes-)

The first sign Genma got that something was wrong was the two sets of shoes sitting innocently in his front hall. He stopped on the threshold, staring at the footwear. Almost all of his friends wore the standard blue shinobi sandals, not kunoichi heels or black shinobi boots. But what sort of intruder just left their shoes in the hall like a guest?

The second sign he got was the sound of unfamiliar voices coming from his living room. They were quiet enough that he had to strain to pick out the words, but they weren’t trying to hide their presence. So Genma did what any good shinobi would do. He shut the front door silently, then leaned back against it to listen in.

“-wrong. The world cannot change this much in the space of one day.” Female, young, probably a teenager, by Genma’s best guess. She would be the owner of the kunoichi heels, most likely, although girls her age didn’t tend to go for them, as they were favoured by village-bound and retired kunoichi. Pride usually stopped the young, up-and-coming, active kunoichi from wearing them. And this one sounded like she had a lot of pride. She sounded controlled and in control, in a way that suggested there was a lot of anger she very carefully wasn’t showing. “Dead clans and people going rogue and a different Hokage don’t just happen overnight. So someone did something to make the world this messed up, and when I find them, they’re going to bleed until they fix it, and then they’re going to burn.”

Well, Genma thought through the alarm bells suddenly making a racket in the back of his mind, this is one very dangerous kunoichi. She had delivered the threat – the promise – with a quiet, cold certainty that usually characterised the torture half of Torture and Interrogations. She had experience in making people hurt, and she was more than willing use those skills if she needed to.

“Seconded.” Male, also teenaged, with a quiet, rich voice with the careful pronunciation that Genma associated with Elders and the more insular and proud Clans. He also sounded darkly amused by his ally’s bloodlust, which wasn’t encouraging.

“Okay-” A third voice, which startled Genma, but he catalogued and assessed it just like he had the others. “-but who did what, and why?” Male, teenaged, boisterous even in his exasperation with his allies. He sounded familiar to Genma, although he couldn’t place him. “More importantly, how do we find them in order to make them fix it?”

A pause, and then the girl spoke again. “We need to assess the events leading up to the attack.” She said, brisk and matter-of-fact, her anger almost inaudible under her professionalism. “What was everyone doing before we woke up in that ruined lab? I was on shift in T&I, working wet to Ino’s dry on an Iwa-nin Kotetsu-san caught.” Genma stiffened slightly. He might not be particularly familiar with Konoha’s up-and-coming teenage ninja, but he at least recognised the name of the Yamanaka princess. He also didn’t think Inoichi would let his sixteen year old daughter take point in a wet-and-dry interrogation. Yamanaka or not, that required keeping a straight face and a mild tone while your partner pulled apart a human body right in front of you. “Anko-senpai was there, too, to spot us.” Well, at least T&I hadn’t let two teenaged girls run an interrogation by themselves, although leaving Mitarashi Anko in charge of them wasn’t what Genma would have done. That was, he admitted to himself, probably why he wasn’t working in T&I.

“Training.” The eerily familiar boy interjected, with an oddly rueful sort of cheer. “Me and Gaara wanted to see if we could use the shared mindscape under battle conditions, so Kaka-nii and Tobi-nii were kicking the crap out of us on… Training Ground Seventeen, I think? The one with all the big rocks.” Genma closed his eyes for a moment, because unknown people dropping the Kazekage’s name so easily was unnerving, but it also put the voice into context. Uzumaki Naruto, which meant that the girl was probably Haruno Sakura and the other boy… Genma didn’t want to think that Uchiha Sasuke was sitting in his living room, but he couldn’t think of anyone else that fit. All of that put together meant that ‘Kaka-nii’ was probably Hatake Kakashi.

Genma knew, though, that Naruto was not that familiar with his jounin-sensei. He wasn’t that familiar with Iruka, who was like an older brother to him. Just like he knew the Kazekage was not in Konoha, and had not been training with any of Konoha’s ninja in the last few days. Just like he was pretty damn sure Yamanaka Ino wasn’t experienced enough to lead interrogations, Sakura didn’t work for T&I, and wasn’t any sort of torture expert.

He was drawn out of his spiralling thoughts by Sasuke’s voice. “I was meeting with Hinata at the White Lotus to discuss the possibility of trying for ANBU.” The missing nin declared simply. Genma allowed his jaw to go slack, because no one was watching. The idea of Uchiha Sasuke in ANBU was mildly terrifying, given what Genma knew of the boy’s anger issues and suicidal streak. The idea that Uchiha Sasuke thought that Hyuuga Hinata had the skills, never mind the temperament, for ANBU work was even more scary.

None of what these three were saying matched up with the world. Which was, Genma acknowledged, exactly what they’d been discussing. “And then there was that strange explosion.” Sakura concluded, with a quick check of “For all of us?” tacked on at the end. There were no verbal answers, but the boys must have given affirmative ones, because Sakura went on without hesitation to say, “And then we were waking up in that wrecked lab.”

“Could your, hm, interviewee have done something?” Sasuke asked.

Sakura made a frustrated yet thoughtful sound. “We had him pretty tightly locked down, but he might have had a seal primed to activate at a certain threshold of pain or bloodloss.” She acknowledged, but even to Genma’s ear she didn’t sound convinced. “We do check people pretty thoroughly – standard procedure since the Kannabi Bridge debacle – but no security is impregnable.”

The fact that Sakura appeared to know about the Kannabi Bridge mission was another thing that didn’t fit. The only reason Genma knew about it in any specific detail was because Gai had fretted about his Eternal Rival for weeks afterwards. And as far as Genma knew, while it had been something of a mess, it had been completed successfully, and hadn’t had anything much to do with seals or sealing techniques.

“That wouldn’t explain the two of us though.” Naruto pointed out. “If it was a seal, it would have to have the anchor at the lab, as a landing point, you know? And someone would have had to smack a target seal on all three of us. Something that would seal us into whatever protections they’d set up against what they were doing, and then the anchor to spit is back out once the conditions were met.” He paused, and out in the hall Genma tried not to get swamped by painful nostalgia. Naruto sounded so much like his mother used to when she debated seals with Minato-sama, and it ached somewhere deep inside. “That could have been done anywhere, any time. As long as we didn’t notice the target seals, it wouldn’t necessarily affect us until the main seal was activated.”

“Employees get checked just as thoroughly as prisoners for seals.” Sakura retorted, sounding frustrated. “Anything that could have just been smacked on me in passing would have been picked up by the scan when I went in to work. No, I don’t think it could have been a seal, which means those bastards probably got their hands on our blood somehow. Hair’s easier to get a hold of, but I think something this big would have needed blood to get a proper lock on us. Like the Edo Tensei.”

Blood jutsu and one of the creepiest forbidden techniques Genma had ever come across. These three might still be kids, but they were legitimately terrifying, he thought wryly. Of course, the Team Seven Genma had heard stories about were terrifying in their own way, but this was on a different level. Those kids might be power-houses, but they were not all that well versed in a shinobi’s real work. These three were discussing most of the darker aspects that made up the bulk of shinobi work like they were discussing the weather.

“But why?” Naruto burst out suddenly. “Why would they target us?”

“Would you like that list alphabetically or chronologically?” Sasuke drawled.

“Very funny, bastard.” Naruto grumbled, but he didn’t refute the implication that this team had pissed off a lot of people. Which only cemented Genma’s conviction that this version of Team Seven was a lot more experienced than the one he was familiar with. “I mean,” Naruto went on to insist, “if they were trying to get at us, why exclude us from whatever they did? Why do something to change the whole damn world and pick on us three to be the ones that didn’t get hit?”

“Us three and whoever did this.” Sakura pointed out. “What better way to disorient and distract than by twisting our home and our families into something wrong? We’re vulnerable right now, with no allies, no back-up, in hostile territory, and with nowhere to retreat to.”

Which was an excellent point, Genma acknowledged to himself, but he was looking at a different angle and wondering if the culprit hadn’t had a slightly different objective in mind. Given everything they’d said, he would bet good money that these three weren’t the targets, they were just collateral damage.

“Deep cover mission protocols, then?” Sasuke asked, tone grim and determined.

Naruto, surprisingly, laughed. “If this is hostile territory, we probably shouldn’t have broken into Genma-sensei’s apartment. Just a thought.” He pointed out, with a nonchalant air of mischief better suited to a cat that had just pushed something fragile and valuable off a table. Genma’s eyebrows shot up, intrigued despite himself, and he pushed away from the front door.

If they were his students, in whatever shape or form, he wasn’t going to leave them in hot water like this without a little bit of help. So he sauntered into the archway between the little front hall and the living room and paused to take in the scene. The three young shinobi noticed him, of course they did, and went stiff. They were all three of them squished onto the couch, with Sasuke in the middle, katana peeking up over his shoulder and wakizashi laid across his lap, dressed from head to toe in black, save for a midnight blue haramaki around his middle, Naruto on the left in his usual eye-searing orange and bandages around his feet – which explained the lack of a third set of shoes, Genma noted – and Sakura on the right, looking at first glance like a harmless civilian in muted earthy shades of red. Genma’s experienced eye picked out the subtle wrongness in the way her dress was hanging, and realised she must have a small armoury’s worth of senbon hidden in her seams.

I must have taught her that, he realised, bemused and proud all at once. None of the three kids moved, watching him warily to see if he was going to attack. Instead, he braced his shoulder against the jamb, folded his arms casually, and clicked the senbon in his mouth against his teeth. “Sensei?” He echoed curiously, keeping his voice light and mild, and projecting not-a-threat as much as he could without it seeming too suspicious.

The three of them all exchanged looks, then nodded carefully, watching him closely for his reaction. “Yeah.” Naruto said. “At least, that’s how it’s supposed to be.”

He sounded so disgruntled that Genma wanted to laugh. Instead, he just shrugged his free shoulder and quirked an eyebrow at them. They’d thrown some good theories around, but they’d been too focused on the idea of the world being twisted around them, because that was what they could see. Yeah, they’re definitely still kids, well-trained or not, Genma thought. They’d grow out of thinking so subjectively in a few years, give or take a decade. “Where you come from.” He agreed, pointedly, waiting to see if they’d catch up with his train of thought.

Slowly, realisation dawned in Sasuke’s dark eyes. “You’re thinking alternate dimensions?”

Genma smiled around his senbon. Good job, other-me, you should be damn proud of these kids, he thought, feeling inexplicably damn proud of these kids himself. “Seems the most reasonable explanation to me. I figure it’d be a lot easier to try and fling someone out of their dimension than try to rearrange an entire reality.”

“Oh.” Sakura breathed, closing her eyes on the revelation and knocking her knuckles against her forehead in frustration. “We weren’t the targets at all, were we? It was these other versions of us. They were the ones all grouped together, in the lab of a highly dangerous and inventive missing nin, with two ANBU, one of whom was there specifically to keep an eye on Kurama.”

Genma hadn’t known that Team Seven was off investigating Orochimaru again, but it made sense, so he nodded. There was one thing, though, that he wanted clarifying. “Kurama?”

“You don’t-? Oh, right, you’re not our sensei here.” Naruto realised, speaking aloud even though he clearly wasn’t talking to any of them. “The kyuubi. His name’s Kurama.”

It took effort not to swallow his senbon. Carefully, Genma plucked it from between his teeth before he could accidentally stab himself in the throat with it. “You’re- you’re on first name terms with the nine-tailed demon fox?” He asked, as calmly as he was able to.

Naruto blinked, then scowled at him with a startling level of resentment. “Yes.” He snarled.

Without looking at him, Sakura reached over and put a hand on Naruto’s knee. She caught Genma’s gaze and held it steadily. “What Naruto means to say is; Kurama is more than just a demon fox, Genma-sensei. He might be a manifestation of chakra, he might not be human, but he is a person. He’s also the first friend Naruto ever really made, has saved Naruto’s life more times than we can count, and is one of the only real connections he has to his mother.”

Because Kushina had been the kyuubi jinchuuriki before him. Right. “That… seems like a very twisted connection.” He pointed out weakly.

Naruto crossed his arms with a harrumph. “Kurama didn’t like her very much, but would you like the person who stuffed you into a box smaller than you are and threw away the key? He respected her though, and that’s important. He’s the only reason I managed to figure out even the basics of Kaasan’s chakra chains.”

All of the words made sense, but Genma was having a hard time wrestling with his emotional response. The kyuubi had killed Minato-sama, and that was a wound Genma was still working on healing. But he wasn’t going to argue with a defensive jinchuuriki about how evil or not the demon inside him was. That was just asking for disaster. “Your entire world is going to give me a headache, isn’t it?” He asked, aiming for humour and only falling a little bit short.

The three kids eyed him, and then he found himself confronted with one tiny smirk, one sly side-ways smile, and one vicious fanged grin. “Itachi-san runs a tea shop.” Sakura told him, sweet as honey. Genma found he couldn’t do much besides stare at her.

Naruto laughed, bright and wicked, slumping into Sasuke who made a show of trying to shrug him off, but never seriously tried to dislodge him. Carefully, Genma turned that piece of information over in his mind, trying to figure out how it made any sense at all. “A tea shop?” He checked, just to make sure he’d heard that right.

“Yes.” Sasuke confirmed, and there was something brittle in his tone. “The White Lotus. It’s very popular.”

That name triggered Genma’s memory, and he traced it back to the earlier conversation. “That’s where you were, before…” He trailed off, oblivious to Sasuke’s nod, because he was picturing that scene, Sasuke at a table with Hinata, being served tea by Itachi, when, all of a sudden… “Oh, hell.”

“What?” Naruto demanded.

Genma grimaced. “If you three ended up here, that means that our Team Seven ended up there.” He pointed out, and waited for them to connect the dots.

Sasuke got there first. His eyes widened and his face drained of all colour. “Other-me is going to try and kill Itachi-niisan. He’s- he’s a civilian now, and he’s not even going to see it coming!” He pressed a hand over his eyes for a moment, then lowered it. Now, instead of panic, there was a hard, steely resolve. “We need to get back. As soon as possible. We’ve already wasted enough time.”

Genma nodded. “I think the fastest way to get you home would be to talk to the Hokage. She ought to know about this, and she’ll know what resources to pull on to get you home quickly.”

“Okay.” Sakura agreed, getting to her feet. “Just remember, Sasuke, that Itachi was an ANBU Captain. I’m sure he’ll be okay, even if he is a little rusty.”

“Yeah!” Naruto agreed, bouncing upright as well. “He’ll be fine. And even if he isn’t, Hinata’s there! And she’s nice, she has to be to like a bastard like you, so she’ll make sure Itachi’s safe, believe it.” He declared brightly.

Sasuke rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue. He looked a little calmer, too. “You guys should go on ahead, I’ll follow where I won’t be seen.” He paused to shoot a wry look at Genma, who raised an amused eyebrow right back. “Since I’m apparently a missing nin in this world.”

“Hey, whoa, no!” Naruto protested. “You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

Sasuke scowled at him. “I’m not fragile, Naruto-!”

“No, but we’re all pretty messed up right now.” Sakura interjected before the two boys could get into a fight. “I think Naruto’s right, we should stick together. And since Naruto can’t be subtle to save his life-” She ignored Naruto’s offended yelp with remarkable dignity. “-I think our best bet is if you throw on a henge. Someone who might be seen with us, someone you think you can impersonate, if we run into someone who knows us.”

Genma had a few suggestions, but he stayed silent, watching to see who Sasuke would pick. Sasuke thought, then smirked, and formed the one-handed version of the henge seal. When the puff of smoke cleared, Genma grinned. “Good choice.” He said to the boy who now looked like an unassuming and much beloved academy teacher.

[veinesnoires]

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[karensazaki-blog]

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[donnymeyer75-blog]

10 Ways To create Life Even more Meaningful

There has rarely been just about anything that has got as considerably an interest as the CMS' Purposeful Usage requirement for doctors - a program for qualified experts to be capable to get approved for Health insurance incentives after satisfying a specific collection from primary purposes laid out in the Meaningful Make use of Condition under the ARRA. Of course, there are a lot more beautiful names to choose from featuring Alpana (Beautiful), Bimala (Sheer), Chahna (Passion), Devanshi (Supernatural), Fulki (Spark), Grishma (Comfort), Ipsita (Wish), Kala (Fine art), Lalima (Charm), Mitali (Friendly), Nirali (Various), Panchali (Princess or queen), Sarayu (Wind), Usha (Dawn), as well as Venya (Adorable). After you are finished and also your thoughts seems to be eventually empty with no originalities, you could review your checklist of romantic quotes and also opt for the very best ones. They are actually even more genuine, and tend to search for relevant partnerships compared to guys. That is actually crucial that our experts discover opportunity for relevant communication with our young people. Influencer marketing is a system where significant individuals in a certain field are used to reach out to the mass amount from buyers in a meaningful method. One of her well-known tattoos includes that from a necromancy recorded Khmer astride her shoulder. The Unicef Gift Store possesses a fantastic assortment of attractive cards and presents that benefit their job. Although ear determining has been actually popular one of men and women of the Masai group in Kenya, boys have actually been progressively unwilling to use the practice. It is not surprising that it enrolls in our purposeful Brands Index as the absolute most relevant company throughout all markets. To women this is actually ways from beautifying all of them, while men think it uses all of them greater stamina. You ought to understand, though, that regardless of whether you discover particularly excellent funny quotes to include in your pep talk, a number of your target market participants will just not identify the quote as entertaining. So as to maintain clients and create a sustainable organisation, you should remain in touch with individuals in a purposeful means. Add new, free of charge web material to your website like most recent short articles, internet devices, as well as quotations along with a solitary item of code! The everyday uses from terms in our popular street talk are flags, signs or signs of our standard mindset. Significantly, registered nurses are stating that purposeful make use of is actually taking meaningful opportunity far from necessary patient treatment and get in touch with. If you adored this short article and you would certainly such as to obtain additional facts pertaining to yellow pages advert 1997 (Continued) kindly go to our own web page. You will perhaps be actually stunned to recognize that he was also one of the craziest guys I've ever before met, and that his imaginative ability was actually enormous. Therefore, the contiguity and regularity rules take advantage of purposeful spatial as well as temporal relations to form the circumstance within which suggestions link. Creating EHRs extra care-friendly is actually a significant must for nurses as well as the whole entire medical care staff. Entrepreneurs should excite after candidates that they expect purposeful modification throughout the income tax code, which a 2nd term merely will not take place without that. This is crystal clear off every thing explained over, that developing a productive company has to do with establishing purposeful connection with a targeted team of individuals. That is actually extra a facts game to recognize that Jane means God is actually merciful or even that Alexander means protector of men or even that George indicates the planet employee or that Erin indicates coming from Ireland. For instance, knowing a listing from nonce words or vocabularies can be developed with individual analyses from these phrases or collections. They take advantage of tracks and rhymes that provide the basis for comprehending how language operates. Lots of males have actually had their ears stretched to suggest their potency as well as sexual capabilities, although this is actually not as considerably an explanation today as this was years earlier. In today's electronic globe, consumers are actually continuously being pounded along with information off a wide array of brand names; this is why this's thus essential to appear the clutter in a purposeful means. D. One group from grown-up guys was taught in lessening their hypertension whereas yet another was not provided any guidelines. I have actually fallen for the simpleness, elegance, and also mental deepness of Meaningful Food items Stories. Yes, all of us possess an active schedule and the clock keeps ticking, having said that, when you agree to take a purposeful rest or develop a change in environment also for a 50% of hour, your anatomy shifts, your mind relaxes and also you move right into an enhanced condition from balance as well as self-awareness. The moment series for relevant make use of is actually broken down into three periods, starting from 2011. As a person that spent countless hrs building an item that basically nobody desired just before beginning my own consulting business (which, the good news is, is actually extra effective in comparison to my 1st item) and also releasing an on-line training course company, I've come to be quite aware of what absolutely brings in job purposeful. Little ones which mature on farms possess a head beginning somehow over metropolitan area little ones, due to the fact that they typically have purposeful job to do as component of the loved ones venture off an early age. Influencer advertising is actually a platform where significant individuals in a particular field are used to reach the mass volume of consumers in a purposeful way. One of her renowned designs includes that from a necromancy filled in Khmer on the back of her shoulder. The Unicef Gift Shop possesses a fantastic choice from beautiful cards and also gifts that gain their work. You will be actually much better off using your social networks presence to sustain your media attempts, where you can easily constitute purposeful hookup along with a smaller group of targeted people. Short operations may sound like the kind of point guys will enjoy and females would simply allow. Of course, this presupposes that joy and happiness is actually somehow totally associated with rendering one's life meaningful. Relevant Charm's 30-day initial deal is $29.99 along with a cash back promise. There are actually pair of main elements of purposeful communication: the stage as well as communication. It is vital for gay males to have devoted opportunity for nourishing partnership yet likewise go after specific enthusiasms. A 4th behavior of relevant connections is actually ending up being knowledgeable about the kinds of things your good friend enjoys performing and also the organizations they hang around along with. Doing just what you adore, one thing beneficial, something meaningful are just the same trait. The evaluation of instruction, knowing and also significant for domain, individualized instruction, the appropriate use of new media in offering relevant information and personal skills development are core concepts of Educational Modern technology in the ionline education and learning acquire wonderful relevance. On the disadvantage, the scent of Meaningful Charm's French Watermelon for some was too solid. The necessary point is that phrases beyond the lowest often tend to lessen clarity.

[gracewithducks]

Back to Basics (Romans 12:9-21)

It’s been a little over a week since Hurricane Harvey made landfall, the first major hurricane to make landfall in the United States in some twelve years. Harvey has broken records, as the wettest storm on record in the mainland United States. With sustained winds of 130 miles an hour, and peak accumulations of more than 50 inches of rain, hundreds of thousands of homes have been flooded, tens of thousands of people displaced, and thousands of rescues have taken place. The storm has caused at least 47 confirmed deaths, and for survivors, recovery will take many years. Estimates so far predict as high as $160 billion dollars worth of damage, and a lot of those losses have been suffered by people who are uninsured and uncertain how, or even if, they’ll be able to recover.

 And the storm is still moving.

 But it’s not the only one. Two weeks ago, a mudslide in Sierra Leone buried hundreds; at least 499 have died, and families are still searching for loved ones.

 And at the same time that we’ve been inundated with constant and breathless coverage of the suffering in Texas, we’ve heard next to nothing about the flood in India, where 1,200 people have died and millions have been displaced. Monsoon rains have affected 16 million people in India, Bangladesh and Nepal, and aid agencies are calling the floods one of the worst humanitarian crises in years.

 And while Bangladesh is being flooded with water on one hand, it’s also being flooded by refugees on the other. Nearly 40,000 refugees have fled there ever since violence erupted in Myanmar a week ago, trying to escape a “worsening cycle of violence.” Not everyone survived the journey, and for those who did, help is hard to find.

 Meanwhile, North Korea fired a missile over Japan, heightening tension and fears about what the next steps might be.

 It’s been a week full of heartache and sorrow, capping a summer of escalating violence, terrorist attacks, and dangerously racist, homophobic, misogynistic rhetoric on every level in our society.

 And this week, a nationwide coalition of Christian leaders came together to release a statement, to address  what is, in their understanding, the most pressing and important issue facing humanity today.[1]

 I’ll give you a hint: they didn’t talk about the flood. They didn’t talk about storms, about climate change, or about the ways our continued denial of the evidence is costing lives, and will cost many, many more. They didn’t talk about how, as people who are created to be stewards of God’s creation, who are called to love our neighbors as ourselves, we have to do better.

 They didn’t talk about violence, about the ways our rhetoric and actions create those who are willing to commit horrible acts of terrorism and perpetuate a cycle of war, about the need to recognize once more the image of God in all people, to follow Christ in finding a new way, a way to overcome hatred with self-sacrificing love.

 They didn’t denounce modern-day Nazis.

 They didn’t remind the global church of God’s command to welcome the stranger, or Christ’s warning that whatsoever we do to the least of these, we do unto him;

they didn’t draw attention to the plight of refugees or the threats to immigrants’ rights. They didn’t speak for the rights of girls and women.

 And you can be quite certain they didn’t make the argument that health care is a basic human right, and should be accessible to anyone and everyone, no matter what.

 No.

 During this tragic and violent week, in an increasingly uncivil and unjust society, a coalition of Christian leaders – not United Methodist leaders, but the kind of folks who’d call themselves evangelical, thanks to a completely different understanding of what that word means – a coalition of Christian leaders released a statement about the biggest threat they see to the world today. And that threat is the lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer community. They list fourteen articles of belief, and every single one of them has to do with human sexuality, and who’s doing it “wrong.”

 And at the bottom of the page, friends, they have the audacity to put a “donate” button. In a world where people have lost everything, where our neighbors are dying because they can’t afford to see a doctor, where the people of Flint can’t drink their water, where children go to bed hungry, where refugees are fleeing for their lives, and where, quite frankly, crisis hotlines can hardly keep up with the calls from people who are being targeted, who feel condemned and hopeless, because of their sexuality –

 These so-called Christian leaders have the audacity not just to put out a damaging and damning statement, but to ask people to give them money in order to fan the flames.

 Maybe you saw the statement.  Maybe you didn’t. But I hope you know: those Christian leaders do not speak for me.

 All those others who’ve added their name – they break my heart. But they do not speak for me.

 When they try to make this, this one issue, this one facet of our humanity, into the litmus test for faithfulness: they do not speak for me.

When they dare, in a world of violence and need, to proclaim that our biggest problem is love: they do not speak for me. This so-called Christianity isn’t one I recognize, and it’s not one I want to have any part of.

 Those leaders put together their articles of belief, trying to identify the heart and core of their faith. The apostle Paul did that, too: in a letter to the church at Rome, a church he’d never visited, though he hoped to one day, he summed up what for him is most important.

 And this is what he said:

 “Let your love be genuine. Hate what is evil, and hold fast to what is good. Love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor… Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to strangers. Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice; weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another; do not be haughty, and do not claim to be wiser than you are, but give yourselves to humble tasks. Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but… if it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. Don’t look for revenge, but trust in God to set things right. If your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink. Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”

 Paul and I have had our arguments; there are plenty of points he says where I would beg to disagree. But when you get right down to it, there’s an awful lot that he gets right. Paul was the apostle of open hearts and open doors, who believed the good news, to be good news, has got to be good news for everyone. This is Paul’s statement of faith: and it comes down to humility, to forgiveness, to generosity – even and especially towards our enemies; it comes to believing that good really can overcome evil, and love is more powerful than revenge, and peace is possible, if we commit ourselves whole-heartedly to seeking it and creating it every day.

 The author Anne Lamott, this week, shared something her pastor said last Sunday: “Don’t let them get you to hate them.”[2] And those are words I’m trying to live by, too. But it’s so very hard sometimes.

 The same day I read that blasted Nashville Statement, the same day I died a bit inside and lost a little more faith in the church I love – I read something else, something that restored a little bit of my hope again.

 Last week, before the storm hit Texas, the people who lived there, who’d been told to hunker down and shelter in place, were all frantically stockpiling whatever they could to tide them over for no-one-really-knows how long. Local bakers were working overtime, making extra bread, trying to keep up with the demand. By last Saturday evening, the owner of El Bolillo Bakery in Houston, says that the bakery’s locations stayed open late, sold out of bread, and then shut down so their employees could make it safely home.

 However, a handful of employees asked permission to come in and get ready to re-open Sunday. They headed into work, not knowing just how bad the flooding was going to be. And that’s how four workers found themselves trapped in the Mexican bakery for two days.

 They grew restless; the water kept rising, and they were worried about their families, but unable to get home. And though the area all around them flooded, the bakery itself stayed dry and even kept power. Faced with empty hours and empty display cases, the bakers started doing what they knew best: they started baking bread.

 For two days, they baked, and they baked, taking breaks to sleep on make-shift beds on the floor. When rescue crews finally arrived two days later, they were shocked at what they found: display cases full of bread, and even more loaves cooling on the counters. In two days, those four men baked through more than four thousand pounds of flour.

 While those bakers were reunited with their families, all their bread was delivered free of charge to first responders, to police officers and nursing homes and local shelters.[3]

 I love this story. I love this story, because these men – they were trapped, they were scared, they were worried, and they didn’t know what to do. But they looked around, and they said: we have flour. We have power. Let’s do something. Let’s get cooking. And like the loaves and the fishes, something wonderful happened, and in those difficult days, a whole lot of people got a taste of something amazing, and they knew they were not alone.

 Or maybe you’ve heard about Mattress Mack. Jim McIngvale is the owner of a chain of furniture stores in Houston. On Sunday, he opened his stores – not to make sales, but to offer shelter and food for his neighbors in need. Mattress Mack sent his delivery trucks out to find people trapped by the storm, and he welcomed them to come, sit in his chairs, sleep on his couches and beds, to have a place to be dry and safe, and to enjoy three meals a day. Mack estimates it’s costing him tens of thousands of dollars to keep his stores open during the storm – but he says, “We can afford that, and what we can’t afford is to cause these people to lose hope; we got to give them hope.”

 Mattress Mack has long created habits of helping others: every Christmas he gives homes full of furniture to needy families; he donates furniture to teachers’ lounges in local schools, and in 2005, he housed 200 evacuees from Hurricane Katrina in his stores. Some of them never left; they ended up staying in Houston and working for the man who opened his heart to them. Even though Labor Day weekend is usually a time for furniture sales, Mack isn’t evicting anyone: He says, “We’re going to keep these folks here for as long as they need to be here. We’re here to help, and that’s what we do; that’s who we are.”[4]

 We’re here to help. That’s what we do, and that’s who we are.

 Oh, I wish we could put that over the doors of our churches; I wish we could broadcast that to the world as our statement of what matters most!

 I know that, in recent years, many of us have grown disheartened and frustrated with the United Methodist Church – because, far too often, our church gets distracted, and gets it wrong, and spends far too much time trying to draw lines in the sand and keep people out instead of really acting like we are the church we advertise and proclaim to be: a church of open hearts and open doors.

 We don’t always get it right. But friends, let me tell you this:

 This week, the United Methodist Church has been on the ground in Texas. Eleven United Methodist Churches have opened their doors to provide shelter for those displaced by the storm, and even more churches which – for a variety of reasons – can’t provide shelter are serving as distribution centers for cleanup supplies and other kinds of help.

 The United Methodist Committee on Relief has been working with disaster coordinators and early response teams in Louisiana and Texas, and will continue to be at work as long as the recovery is going on. Volunteer teams have already been dispatched, and relief kits – including special flood clean-up kits, clothing kits, and hygiene kits – have been sent and more are on their way.

 In addition, United Methodists and others have been donating to the recovery effort, and thanks to our church’s structure, 100% of funds donated to UMCOR go to helping those in need. Nothing gets held back.

 And UMCOR is also working with partners in Sierra Leone; thousands of dollars have been granted to help with the recovery from the tragic mudslides there so far.

 The United Methodist Church is also with Syrian refugees, providing 45,000 Syrian children with resources for health and wellness as well as school kits so they can keep dreaming of a better future.

 The United Methodist Church is working to help flood survivors in India, to provide refuge and resources for migrants and their families, to alleviate suffering caused by the droughts in South Sudan, Somalia, and Kenya, distributing food and tents and other essential items to displaced people in the Democratic Republic of the Congo… and investing in the future by helping provide seeds to communities, digging wells, improving farming methods, and the list goes on and on.

 We’re here to help. That’s who we are, and that’s what we do. And I believe it’s that witness – of generosity and compassion – it’s that witness that says the most about the God we serve, the God we love, a God whose love is too abundant to be limited by any borders we draw or any statements we make.

 Let your love be genuine. Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer. Contribute to those in need; extend hospitality to strangers. As much as it depends on you, live at peace with all. Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.

 We may not always get it right. But let’s do the best we can; let’s do what we can, as much as we can, to bear witness to love in this world: and we trust God with the rest.

  God, you know sometimes we get discouraged. When the needs are so great, when the evil seems so strong, when we are tempted to let them make us hate them – it’s easy to feel so very small, too small to make any difference at all. Renew our hope today. Restore our souls; kindle the fire of your love in our hearts. Help us not to grow weary of doing your work, but to believe that it all matters. Thank you for your love; thank you for your grace. In Christ’s name we pray; amen.

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Learn more about UMCOR and give to support their work at www.umcor.org  

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[1] It’s called the Nashville Statement, if you want to look it up. I don’t want to link to it here, because I have nothing to do with it at all.

[2] https://www.facebook.com/AnneLamott/posts/1273626319433675

[3] https://www.cbsnews.com/news/el-bolillo-bakery-houston-bakers-trapped-in-flood-bake-hundreds-of-loaves-for-harvey-victims/ and

https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/inspired-life/wp/2017/08/31/flooding-trapped-these-mexican-bakers-for-two-days-they-spent-it-baking-for-harvey-victims/?utm_term=.997122565745

[4] https://www.cbsnews.com/news/houston-businessman-jim-mcingvale-opens-furniture-stores-to-evacuees/

[eichy815]

Social Media Salad

I find it intriguing to do unconventional social experiments.  For the past fifty days, I’ve been running one on the folks who are part of my Facebook network – unbeknownst to them.

Beginning on March 13, I’ve gone through my Facebook feed at various times during the day...and randomly grabbed people’s Status Updates...cutting-and-pasting them into one big Microsoft Word Document.  I thought it would be a fun little mashup of close to two months’ worth of seemingly random musings from those whom I follow on social media.

For the purposes of this compilation, I’m keeping the writers of each of these Status Updates completely anonymous (although if you follow me on Facebook, you may recognize your own words here).  And, although this cacophony of narratives is cherrypicked by me, it’s still a unique little glimpse into the nebula that is Eichy’s Facebook-Network.

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With all the criminals in Gotham City, you’d think they’d build a military base instead of depending on Batman all the friggin’ time.  Jeez...

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Republicans want everyone to have access to insurance in the same way you have access to a ride while standing in the middle of a highway.

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It’s 5:10pm.  I swear, it was only yesterday this time it was 4:10.  Damn!

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I wasn’t at the Science March yesterday because I was part of the control group.

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The saddest thing in the world is that cats have no idea how popular they are on the Internet.

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There’s a part of myself that usually wants to go full-Lohan on here, but I know it wouldn’t accomplish anything or make anything better for anyone..

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Society likes telling us how we’re all unique and individual until they want to generalize negativity.  Then it throws us all in one boat.

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Why do I keep arguing with people too stupid to know they are stupid?  That makes me stupider than them.

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As much as I hate the Soviet Union, I will give them credit for defeating Nazi Germany.

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I made vegan French toast!

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Vertigo and migraines, yay!

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All the Bernie backers who are hating on Tulsi and now Canova are insane.

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Why do people want to be famous?  Just wondering...

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I dislike DINOs waaaay more than I dislike Republicans.

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Communism jokes aren’t funny unless everyone gets them.

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Old Mexican ladies be complaining about back pain but put on some cumbias and they’re dancing away like nothing!  Just a little observation...

[[[ON-EDIT: the person who wrote this post was a Latino individual.]]]

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Calculating diluted earnings per share with conversions...and I’m surprised I have a brain left after this.

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Sundays are for lounging and figuring out what to bake for wifey’s birthday...

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When your gay best friend wants to play games where you work.

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Some people have made it clear they don’t care about me as a person.  The feeling is more than mutual.  If you love me, I love you.

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Who has a ten-year plan or goal?  Share if you’re inclined. I’m curious what people are doing with long term goals nowadays.  I just graduated my son, so now what?

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I’m not “passive-aggressive.” I’m “aggressive-aggressive.”

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Just went surfing in the ocean for the first time.  Whoever coined the phrase “surfing the internet” has never been surfing.

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Well damn, just broke my cat tree.  They are going to be pissed.

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Anyone have any good suggestions for mindless activities that require no physical movement and no cognitive or abstract thinking?

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Too many television shows are trying to teach me life lessons that I don’t want to think about and my body doesn’t want to sleep yet.

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You know you’re getting old when loud teenagers at the mall start making you curse whoever gave birth to such obnoxious little demon spawn.

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I went to bed looking forward to sleeping like a baby through storms as I usually do.  I have been tossing and turning to what sounds like Syria getting bombarded outside.  I’ve never seen so much lightening or heard so much loud thunder. I can only imagine the flooding around here this morning.

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Accidentally wore red in a Target today.  Only got mistaken for an employee once.

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You are your own worst enemy.

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I hate when people accuse me of being arrogant when I’m really just the only one in the room who’s right.

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Alas, I have resigned to copious alcohol consumption in self-loathing for the night.

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Last night, after 48 miserable hours of Claritin which were just indescribably awful, I was feeling derealized from my body and noticed my arms looked big and that I couldn’t pinch them.  So, I guess I am allergic to the stuff.  I feel fine now, thanks to the Benadryl I took as the time zone changed.  Somehow this just feels really ironic.

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The best thing about everything is the other stuff.

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Please understand there are lots of people who will make money from you remaining ignorant, self-righteously indignant, and full of hate.

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I had no idea who April The Giraffe was until about 10 minutes ago.  Excuse my ignorance, but what is the focus/hype on this particular giraffe giving birth?  Was she endangered?

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The problem with saying that I will hit the gym after this cup of coffee is...the closer to the bottom of the cup I get...the more reluctant I become to finish my coffee.   Ha!  HELP!!!

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Does anyone else think Jeff Sessions looks like he should be tightly wrapped in a hospital sheet while being spoon fed by a burly orderly?

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Five more minutes until glorious cheesy puffs...yummo.

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You are not “woke” until you realize how little you really know.

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For a lifelong insomniac who gets frequent headaches like me, Daylight Savings Time is like someone playing the drums on your worst sunburn.

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All that cutting out a large amount of conservatives from my FB has done is shine a light on how awful liberals are.

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Looks like I am going to be writing an offer on a house for a first time home buyer!  I love helping families with their first home.

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I’ve been waking up to concussion-like headaches lately

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R.I.P., Joanie.  Chachi wasn’t the only one who loved you; we all did.

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Someone just tried to convince me the Grand Canyon used to be full of water.  Uhm, honey, I’m FROM Arizona, I think I’d know.  It was dug by the Pilgrims to throw their dead horses in after the Oregon Trail, dumbass.  That’s why there are streaks at the bottom of it.  That’s from the wagons.

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Do you ever have those friends on your Facebook, that act like the drunk dude that snuck in to the party, and starts harassing everyone...and you’re like, how the hell did he get in here?  A couple of those just seem to show up every once in a while.

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The half marathon beat my butt today; I told myself I’d be happy just to finish, but to finish under 3 hours would be great (especially since I didn’t really train).  I finished in 2 hours 59 minutes, and 43 seconds!!  I’ll take it.  Can’t wait for next year and I’ll be ready for the hills that time.

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Mulching is done.  The best calculated estimate I thought would do the job in its entirety was 15, maybe 20 bags, max.  54 bags later...Four days since commencing the project and the “Premium” mulch that hit the ground on the first day is already fading.  Thank you, Home Depot.

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Take your meds, Kellyanne.

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Biggest lesson learned from this past weekend:  Drinking champagne whilst in the hot tub with birthday cake in your tummy, jets turned all the way up...probably not the best idea.

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When you’re on a juice cleanse and your hometown doesn’t have a cold press juicery.

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My smart phone is getting dumber.

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So, I’m standing in line at Subway, and the lady ahead of me says she wants to get wheat bread since she is on a diet.  She proceeds to get extra cheese and heavy Ranch Dressing.  I really, really want to advise her against that.

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Everywhere I turn, traffic and traffic.  Fuck, Florida, get your shit together.

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I just saw someone with a purple iPhone case in the shape of a cough syrup bottle.

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People who back into parking spaces don’t deserve a long and prosperous life.

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Had my sister pick me up some Popeye’s from the big city, which would be awesome but they forgot TWO of the sides.  People tryna feed they kids here.  No slaw and no mac = whack.  Spicy chicken and butterfly shrimp better make up for it.

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It’s funny that people hate you because of their own ignorance.

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I’m out of cereal. My world just shattered around me.

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I hate when people who unfriend me are smiling in their profile pics.  The least they could do is not look so damn happy about it.

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I have always thought that the expression “women and children” is sexist, basically putting women in the same category as children.

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I’m beginning to think I need some kind of awning or something for my balcony, because I’m sitting out here trying to use my laptop and enjoy breakfast when, really, all I’m doing is damaging my eyes probably by straining them to see this computer screen.

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“Oh! What a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.”

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“Everyone in the USA is living on indigenous stolen land wrongfully!  It was taken from Native Americans!”

– People living in the USA who, when confronted about it, refuse to live elsewhere.

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There is critique and then there is trolling.  One is actually productive.

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If by “political purist” you mean that I won’t support bombing children overseas, taking money from working-class Americans to enrich corporations, and I expect to not be lied to by my own government...then, yeah, I’m a political purist.

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Anyone who advocates for Sharia law deserves to live under it.

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Has that giraffe seriously not fucking given birth yet?

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That banging you’re hearing is the collective sound of everyone in the South throwing away their microwaves because they’re afraid the CIA is spying on them.

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I learned how to make chicken and rice, and it’s amazing!!!  My new staple diet.

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“Is it ever really divisive to resist aligning yourself with your oppressor?”

That seems to be the thought process.  “Just grin and bear it,” but never dare complain about it.

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I have two extra tickets to Chris Rock tomorrow night in Milwaukee.  Orchestra-level seating, 12 rows from the stage.  Let me know if interested willing to sell them at a discount

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The MSM is trying to pass off these articles that would normally be found in The Onion ... as “real news.”

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Even if he doesn’t like the results, Shia LaBeouf has taken social media art to a whole new level.

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I love seeing all these photos of kids in Purim costumes and smiling families.  Bonus points, however, to whoever posts a photo of their child throwing a fit over their costume cause those photos are adorable too.  Although probably easier for me to say since I’ve never had to deal with that...

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Fuck this day.  I’m done.

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The problem with health care?  It’s an inelastic commodity, and politicians are treating it as though it were elastic.

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So glad it’s 7 PM and it’s not fully dark yet.  Yay longer days.  I’ll be getting drunk on my balcony every day after work soon enough.

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AND, HERE’S A HANDFUL OF SOME PEOPLE’S LONGER STATUS UPDATES...

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If you put your baby stroller in front of the exit of the bus, and you’re extremely hostile towards any request to move it from the exit, don’t be surprised when I refuse to hurdle over it and kick it out into the street.  I asked you twice to please move it, bitch.  You told me to just jump over it.  Fuck you, have fun with no stroller, woman.

The next person who gets in my face today is getting hit.

Disclaimer:  Obviously, there wasn’t any children being kicked into the street.

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I will never forget this one time a few years ago that I was at a Chinese restaurant and the guy in front of me asked for a ton of extra duck sauce.  It occurred to me that I had never seen anybody I know personally ever actually put the duck sauce on anything, so I asked him, “Hey what are you supposed to put that on?”

He looked at me incredulously for a couple of seconds like I was a bunch of macaroni penguins stacked on top of each other wearing a trench coat and a wig trying to pose as a human, and he says, “The chicken, man.  You put it on the chicken.”  Then walks out, shaking his head at the world.

Anyway, Happy Earth Day, earthlings.

We may not always understand each other, but a lot of you are really alright.

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If you’re going to put pineapple on a pizza, it must be FRESH pineapple cut in substantial uneven chunks and not that yucky canned stuff, and it must be on the pizza when it goes in the oven so its sugars can caramelize a bit.  Then it’s awesome.

Otherwise, I can understand why people think pineapple on pizza is disgusting.  Canned pineapple put on the pizza after the fact is an abomination.  In fact, I’m gonna just come right out and say canning pineapple should be against the law.

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I’ve hit upon an analogy I like for moving back to SoCal after 11 years in Vegas.

At first, you think every problem you have is solved and you can’t stop feeling elated that the things you only dreamed about are now part of your daily reality again. (For me, it’s the ocean, perfect year-round temperature and the vegetarian restaurants Native Foods and Veggie Grill.)

The analogy is getting released from prison.  It’s a perfect one.  Because four months later, you realize that you can’t get a steady job, that most of your money goes just to rent and that most of your friends are still on the inside.

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Acceptable items to put into a washing machine:  clothes, towels, detergent, fabric softener.

Unacceptable items to put into a washing machine:  glass.

I’m too tired to deal with this.

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Okay, Pennsylvanians.  Let’s have a little chat about how our taxes are at risk of skyrocketing soon.

Why?  Well, 4 bills just passed the PA House and now face the Senate, threatening to privatize our liquor and wine sales.  “But that’s not a tax,” you say.  Not directly, no.  But the reason our taxes are so low, and clothing/groceries aren’t taxed at all, is because we get that money elsewhere.

Last year alone, the PLCB brought in half a BILLION dollars to the state.  That’s after paying our wages, buying inventory, paying for our stores (leased from private owners), and everything else that goes into upkeep of the state stores.  Without the state stores, that money will have to come from somewhere else.  Currently there are only TWO sources of state revenue: taxes, and alcohol sales.  That $500 million would have to shift over to taxes.

I can’t convince people to care about the thousands of quality jobs that would be lost.  I can’t make people care about my job.  But hopefully we’re all on the same page regarding NOT wanting to pay more taxes.  The only people who would benefit from privatization are Walmart’s CEOs and some rich bankers.

So contact your senators and tell them to vote against privatization.

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I was driving on Hwy 51 near the Hwy 30 intersection...I saw on one of the light poles with about 7 pigeons.  Across the street were 5 pigeons on a pole.  Next to them were 2 crows on a pole.

The rest of the poles were empty of birds.  I think they were waiting for a fender bender. There are a ton of them at that intersection.

I didn’t notice if they were eating popcorn.

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Favorite new thing.  Watching people Unfriend me.  :)

I added the Social Fixer app to the Chrome Browser, and now it shows a -4 or whatever, to note who’s Unfriended me.

When clicking on their face, it’s like...

Yeah... No, Donald J. Trump is not our Savior and just because I had something harshly critical about Hillary or the Democratic Party doesn’t mean I’m a Sociopath like you.

And Yep.  Clinton Supporters who won’t consider what has to change.  You liked the thing about Trump going away with the Aliens, but, no, you wouldn’t be happy with what I say, either.  Truth is not your Friend, and if you’re unwilling to hear what you don’t prefer...

In each case... it’s fun to see because it ain’t me, babe.

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This darn dog watches every move I make, and has my routine down pat.  He sees me getting dressed...and if he sees me putting on my work clothes he gets really downcast.  But if he sees me putting on regular clothes he perks right up, because he knows we are going somewhere. (Except for work, I pretty much take him everywhere with me.)  I fooled him good just now, though.  I was already dressed from when I took him on his walk, but then I decided to change leggings because the ones I had on were too thick for such a gorgeous day.  He perked up big time, thinking we were going for a ride.  I almost feel bad for getting his hopes up.

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OK, I have a funny flashback story about my parents to share.  This dates back to early 2005:

My parents have driven my sister to the mall to shop for what I think was a graduation dress and shoes.  My dad only went because he needed lunch, and after they ate at the food court, my mother and sister went shopping for the clothing and my dad did his own thing.  When they met back up at the food court about 2 hours later, my dad was holding a bag and announced he had bought himself a white polo shirt.

When they got home, my dad tried on the polo shirt and was irritated that the shirt didn’t fit.  Keep in mind, my dad is 6 feet, 4 inches tall, so even with the most loose-fitting shirts at, say, J.C. Penney, he still needs at least an extra-large size.

He told my mother that the polo shirt didn’t fit, and my mother asks him what size he got; he answered that he bought an XXL.

MOM:  “Well that should’ve fit you. Where did you buy the shirt?” DAD:  “Some store in the mall called Hollister.” MOM: (eyes rolling now and she raises her voice):  “Honey, no wonder that shirt didn’t fit!!  Hollister is a YOUNG MEN’S clothing store!!!

My dad did NOT quite understand that concept.  And that is the consequence of spending all your weekends sitting on the couch watching golf.  But don’t feel for my mom too much.  I once had to explain to her that the sports bar called Hooters was NOT a reference to owls.

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I once arrived at an Occupy protest with a copy of the WSJ tucked under my prep-school hoodie with a Starbucks cup in my hand and realized that was pretty much the story of my life.

Tomorrow I will be oppressing the proletariat, as usual, from my cubicle in a skyscraper in the financial district.  Conveniently, I’ll probably have to work late, so hopefully the street wars will be over by the time I’m ready to leave.  If you want to protest the fact that Trump sucks by killing a progressive queer trying to earn a living, you’ll find me on 3rd around sunset, on my way to a rendezvous with the past somewhere south of the city that involves a close brush with the god of war in 2005.  It involves a psychopath and people of many species.

Cheers, and happy Tukwila Day / May Day!

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OKAY, THAT’S ALL THE “SOCIAL MEDIA SALAD” THAT I HAVE TO SHARE, TODAY...

Hey, I *do* have better things to do with my time.  Maybe in a few months I’ll compile another one of these.