#making him like some sort of desktop buddy? you know what I mean?

[artist-heart83]

My brain trying to related another pathetic character just came out with Depresso but ain’t drawing that clown KSJSJSJSNSJSJSB, but yeah its difficult for sure

Actually, first I do the designs and then I made swap!Saiko as Rotten Girl Miku, amazing idea that just came out when you say Saiko fujoshi

Tbh, I haven’t think that much about the au, I wanna figure out the designs first and then work on what things are changing, but maybe they would change their jobs

SMG4 Swap AU

Note 1. All existing characters (Nintendo characters, Sonic characters, etc) would keep their roles for my own sake, and because, how the heck would I change their roles???

Especially Mario because HE IS the avatar, so I would have to change smg4 and smg3 with other characters, but ain’t doing that.

Note 2. “Hey how would x ship work here?” And for my own sake we are going to ignore ships because I would lose my sanity thinking about that (this note exist because of @king-ghostfrog)

If I missed a character, two things: probably is a character I haven’t meet or “I forgot and I don’t know what to do with them”

The only goddamn reason of WHY I swap Puzzles with Marty is because who would else I would swap him? Marty IS the nearest option.

Also, zero doubts that I will change Rob and Jub Jub species or at least give them a pre-redesign design, just for funsies

I will draw some designs at some point, when? Idk but I hope I don’t forget it because I have two/three ideas for drawings that I’m planning to do during my christmas break jsjsjsjsjsj

[raging-violets]

Stargirl: At All Hours // Rick Tyler

By: Rhuben

Words: 2,829

Note: Kind of a character study for Rick Tyler. This all came together after noticing that Rick walked everywhere.

Also found on: AO3 and FFN

Summary: Rick Tyler has the weight of the world on his shoulders. A weight he never asked for. Managing his grief and anger over his parents' sudden death, his schoolwork, fixing his car to have some sort of reliable transportation, and the nightly calls to pick up his unruly uncle from the bar always had him on the move.

--

Rick settled back in his chair, one arm draped over the back, and peered up at Principal Bowin unperturbed. His stomach growled. Principal Bowin’s eyebrows lifted. Letting out a humorless laugh, he parted his lips and said, “It’s a stupid box of candy. Barely anyone in this school likes it, let alone buys it.” He used his index finger to jab at the desktop. “It’s on that cart, day after day, and no one touches it.”

“That doesn’t mean you can just take it. Nothing in this life is free, Mr. Harris.”

“Whatever.”

Principal Bowin pursed her lips. She crossed her arms over her chest. A moment later she clasped her hands together in front of her. A tight smile came to her face. She wasn’t going to press the issue any further. It never made a difference. “Maybe you could use this time to think about your actions today.” She then turned on her heels and strode out of the detention room.

Sighing through his nose, Ricky slumped down in his seat. Tilting his head back towards the ceiling, he placed his hands over his face before he pushed his fingers into his hair. A stupid box of Nutty Buddys. That’s what this was all about. He was hungry, didn’t want a stupid room-temperature pre-made “for the kids who can’t afford a lot” sandwich that’s been sitting out all morning. So, he took a box of candy. Big deal. He’d think about his actions all right. He’d think about how he had little money after buying his lunch in the first place, and no one would think twice about a box of candy just sitting out in the open.

It’d last him until the morning, at least. At most, until the next time his uncle Matt could pull himself together long enough to get to the grocery store. Even then, however much he’d manage to get was dependent on how much he spent at the bar each night. It wasn’t the healthiest option, he knew, but it tasted good. The chocolate, the peanut butter, all wrapped around that layer of wafer. Absolutely mouth-watering.

And, it was a nice change from another bowl of ramen. They were even running out of that.

Pulling his gaze from the ceiling, Rick leaned forward in his seat and folded his arms on his desk. He stretched his lower back as he settled his chin on his arms. He flickered his eyes towards the trickle of students coming to serve their own detention, before setting them back onto the chalkboard at the front of the room. Bring your schoolwork. He snorted. As if anyone could focus on their schoolwork when just about everything else was so much more important. Like getting something to eat. His stomach growled again, and he pressed his fist into his stomach.

His days always started about five in the morning. Climbing out of bed, first thing he’d do was pack his bookbag of all the textbooks and the homework he half-finished the night before that lay strewn about his bed. Maybe a pen would be stuck to his cheek. A page ripped out of his notebook from where his leg was strewn across it. A textbook laid across his chest, heavy. It was better, he came to understand, to come to school with some of his homework done than to not bring it at all. It lessened the disappointed stares, and the “I know you can do better” head shakes he would get in response to his mumbled explanation of doing his best. When he bothered to give an explanation at all, anyway.

Quietly stepping into the living room to make sure his uncle was still sleeping, let alone still breathing, Rick would pick up the half-eaten plates of food, crunch over the chips that lay strewn across the carpet, and jostle the cans of Red Bull that sat atop the coffee table – at some point in the night, it had been shoved out of its usual position. Once the mess was cleared away, he’d set out a new, clean glass of water and some aspirin before shaking his uncle awake.

“Wha-whatsgoinon?” Matt asked, managing to lift an eyelid with what Rick could only guess was with great effort.

“Get up,” Rick would reply shortly, swinging his arm out of the way to avoid the slap or punch Matt would aim his way. He had learned to anticipate some aspect of retaliation over the years after showing up at school with a black eye and a cut cheek on a handful of occasions. Most times, Matt usually managed to succeed in a swing and a miss, knocking himself to the floor. Rick had also learned to keep his distance between himself and the nauseous smell of unbrushed teeth and stale alcohol breath…and whatever Matt might have possibly thrown up in the middle of the night. “Get in the shower.”

“Don’ tell me what to do,” Matt grumbled, tucking his arms underneath his chest to push himself up into a seated position. “Get out of my way.”

“Aspirin,” Rick said, indicating the white pills on the table, “Water. Knock yourself out.” Then, he would turn and leave his uncle to his own devices. After taking a quick shower, while there was still warm water, he’d throw on a pair of jeans with faded oil stains (though, he wasn’t sure he even owned anything that wasn’t oil stained by now), grab his shoes that seemed to soak up every inch of water whenever it rained, and throw on a long-sleeved shirt that was starting to stretch out at the collar. He’d step outside to continue his, seemingly, never-ending work on his car.

The very same car his dad had given him a model of the night he died. The model that sat in the center of his dresser. That was clutched tightly in his hand during his funeral. Often he wondered how far he’d be in restoring the old car by now if he had his father there to help him.

It had taken him ages to save up the money to buy the parts he needed. Whenever his uncle remembered to give him allowance for the chores he did around the house, he was able to slowly accrue the parts bit by bit. Luckily, with Blue Valley’s junkyard he was able to get the parts at a decent price – as long as the right sizes and pieces could be found. Even with the fancier cars driving around town, it could be hit or miss at times. With his own interest in fixing cars, he at least didn’t have to worry about the cost of labor – and the occasional library book helped him whenever he got stuck enough (always returned on time to avoid any overdue fines).

He could work for an hour or two before his uncle really managed to get himself up for the day.

Once it was clear his uncle Matt was awake and ready for the day, in the shower or changing in his room, Rick would slip back inside in search for something to eat for breakfast. If there was anything at all. Sometimes there were cold leftovers he could scrounge together. A potato or half-eaten two-day old pizza or something. Sometimes they even had enough milk for a bowl or two of cereal. Toast wasn’t out of the question; the bread was pretty good at settling his stomach from how long it had been since he had last eaten anything.

When Matt was ready to leave for the day, Rick would already be back working on his car. Trying to stay out of the way as much as possible. The car never talked back, at least not with words. Whatever sound it decided to make when he attempted to start it was a pretty good indication of what the next step was in his attempt to bringing it to life. Or lack of sound as the case may be. But all parts had a place, working together to give it motion.

So much unlike the two of them.

Rick was never even offered a ride into town to get to school. And he learned not to ask for it lest he wanted to get the same scathing look he had received every day since the funeral. It was Rick’s fault Matt wasn’t a billionaire. Rick’s fault they weren’t living within their means. Rick’s fault that Matt had to leave whatever it was he was doing to talk to the principal, again, about his anger. The reason why life was hard. The reason why he drank. The reason why he had to go into town every single day in an attempt to find a job lest their $50,000 run out.

If he’s even looking for a job, Rick would think with a roll of his eyes as he watched dust kick up from the rotating tires of Matt’s truck. He’d watch him disappear down the long dirt driveway, a small part of him hoping that it wouldn’t ever return. But, with the house finally his, he’d clean up the living room, remove as much dirt and grime from his face, hands, and clothes as he could, (and when he couldn’t he’d don his dark jacket), and leave to start his long walk to school with his backpack hanging loosely off his shoulder.

Maybe he’d make it to school on time. Maybe he’d show up a few, ten, or fifteen minutes late. Maybe he’d never show up. Maybe one day he could walk right past that tree. But for now, he’d always stop to pay his respects. To mark off another day on this earth without his parents. Another day where his anger churned and roiled so deep inside him, he wasn’t sure if he would ever learn what it was like to just be normal. To not feel like punching out the lights of the first person that looked at him sideways. Or even worse, that pitied him and still did nothing to help. No one ever asked how he was feeling. If he was alright.

He wasn’t. He never would be.

School wasn’t anything he ever really tried hard at. He tried hard not to fall asleep at his desk, sure. He tried hard to stop his stomach from growling so loudly. If he got to school early enough to buy what was left of a breakfast, usually a piece of fruit, it helped a little. There just wasn’t anything of interest he was studying – math was never hard for him, not with how smart his dad was. Blue Valley was a small town, one that most people never really left. And most people didn’t expect him to get into college, anyway. So, why even bother?

Lunch time wasn’t any better. Between forcibly being sequestered at the “Singles” table, listening to Beth Chapel blather on and on and on about whatever to her parents (and she could talk about anything), and Yolanda Montez who would just sigh every few minutes while mindlessly spearing at her salads, it was enough to drive anyone crazy. Still, day after day, he took his usual seat and sat in silence. (He trained himself not to look at the good food Beth seemed to bring in every day –perfectly portioned for herself, not enough to share; not that he’d ask – but through it.) Even if they didn’t talk to each other, there was some comfort in not having to sit by himself anymore. Not that he’d say that out loud. Ever.

Then after school, if he managed not to get a detention that day, he’d start the long trek home, stopping by the local general store for a soda. An energy drink. Anything with enough sugar or caffeine to wake him up long enough to attempt to work on his homework as soon as he got home. However much he could get through with their crappy Wi-Fi. When it got too much, he’d take a break and work on the car again. Dinner was spent by himself. And the people on the TV greeted him with a new episode of whatever hit TV show was airing at the time. Whichever shows he could get on the basic package of cable they could afford. Still, Rick would just flip through the channels, letting his mind wander.

Waiting.

Then he would get the call. “Hey, man, you need to come pick-up your dad. He’s not doing well.” Not doing well. Got into a fight. Threatened to have the police called on him. It didn’t matter. That meant he had to make another trek back into town. Another trip where no one would stop long enough to see if he wanted a ride. Once in Blue Valley he’d have to fight to pull Matt away from the bar, forcing the keys out of his hand, and drive him back home where he would only make it as far as the couch before he passed out. Or the call wouldn’t come, and he’d get back to his homework, trying to stay up, making sure his uncle returned safely only to be jolted awake by the front door crashing open and Matt’s grumbling as he managed to stumble his way inside.

Wash.

Rinse.

Repeat.

But today, there was a small change in his day. Enough to pull him out of autopilot and take notice. Not enough for him to care. Just notice. Today, there was a new girl at school: Courtney. He didn’t know who she was, but the whole school seemed to know she was new. After all, they had all grown up in Blue Valley together. They knew who a familiar face was and who wasn’t.

She wasn’t familiar. She was …too blonde? Too cheerful? Definitely the cheerleader type. And she wanted to join them. At their lunch table. And she was another one that wanted to talk.

He wasn’t about talking. He wasn’t about explaining to anyone knew why he was at the table, why he was considered one of them, the “losers” as Beth had called them. He wasn’t about getting that “I’m so sorry” look of pity again. So, he left. And he grabbed a box of candy on the way out. He was just freaking starving.

Think about my actions? Rick thought with a smirk. Yeah right. Why didn’t everyone else just stop and think for a minute as to why he could possibly do something like this? Then again, everyone thought he was a delinquent, so why not play into that? Be the guy they all thought he was. He knew he had a good reason for all of it. Even if no one else agreed with him. Or even wanted to hear it.

It was one thing in his life that he could control. He didn’t necessarily like detention. But it was quiet. It was an hour after school where he only had himself to worry about. An hour away from any and all responsibilities. An hour where he wasn’t Rick Harris. Not really.

He was just Rick.

Finally.

[prorevenge]

My job is super-easy? Okay. YOU do it.

This is pretty long. Smartass TL;DR at the bottom.

I was telling a Buddy about this sub, and he related this story, I tell it to you with his permission.

Buddy is a very charismatic guy, great friend, and probably a great co-worker. He’s the type of guy that everyone is fond of. Easygoing, and seems to have a knack for personal relationships. Always remembers birthdays, if he hears that a band you like is coming to town he’ll text you the news, that sort of guy.

Buddy works for a company that services industrial machinery. It was a small operation, there was Buddy, GoodBoss, Owner, The Kid in the warehouse, a couple of Technicians, and some Office Ladies who handled administration. Buddy was the pivot man in the operation, he was the point of contact for the Technicians and had great relationships with the Clients and the Vendors who supplied the parts. He knew his job inside out, and everyone likes dealing with him. He gets things done.

Now the way this place worked was that the Technicians would send in their reports for the day after 4:00pm. Buddy would look them over, looking for “Rockets”, these were high-priority jobs that needed to be done ASAP, as opposed to routine maintenance issues. He would then email The Kid a list of parts to be picked. Buddy worked 9am to 5:30pm, and was on-call for emergencies. If a “rocket” came in after-hours, Buddy would email The Kid to add it to the morning order.

The Kid arrived for work at 7:00am, and would pick parts orders for the technicians. These would be picked up by a local courier at 9:00am, and taken to a depot. There were 2 major industrial areas in town, and the “depot” wasn’t more than a large mailbox in a post office in each area. The technicians could avoid city traffic by going directly to the depots, which were very close to the clients. The couriers would get these boxes to the depots about 9:30. Buddy would schedule a call for the technicians, and when they finished the first call, they would head around the corner to the depot to pick up their parts.

Things ran smoothly for years, and then GoodBoss decided he wanted to move on. He was grooming Buddy for the move up, and Buddy learned most of the managerial duties GoodBoss covered, in addition to his own duties, things like QuickBooks and scheduling, etc.

GoodBoss leaves, and Buddy takes over these responsibilities, again things run smoothly.

Until Owner tells Buddy that he’s getting a new supervisor. BadBoss. This guy came from a Sales background, had no experience in operations, and was basically there to help Owner bid on big jobs, but his title was Operations Director, and he was Buddy’s new boss.

Buddy was angry that he had been denied the chance to move up, which in a small operation, doesn’t happen often. Add to that the fact that BadBoss was a jerk, but not a dumb jerk, and quickly figured out that Buddy was a threat. And so the lines were drawn. BadBoss had it in for Buddy, and Buddy wasn’t taking any of his shit.

One day BadBoss comes in about 8:45 and sees Buddy shooting the shit in the coffee room with one of the Office Ladies, and lays into him. “Why aren’t you at your desk? I don’t pay you to stand around talking. Get to work.”

Buddy starts to protest that he’s actually at the office 15 minutes before his shift, but BadBoss cuts him off, “I don’t listen to bullshit excuses. I want you at your desk at 8am sharp, and I want you to send me an email every morning to prove it. Now get going.”

Buddy sends him an email, BCC to Owner, asking BadBoss to confirm that he wants Buddy working 8-4:30. There was also a previous email saying “no overtime”. BadBoss sends a tersely worded confirmation.

Now Buddy comes in just before 8am, sends an email right at 8, confirming he’s on duty, and BCC to Owner. But here’s the problem.

The Technicians send their reports in after 4pm. Buddy lets it be known on the down-low that closer to 4:30, the better. So the parts requests come in at 4:25, and Buddy leaves at 4:30. He doesn’t get a chance to review them until 8 the next morning. He sends the order pick to The Kid, who doesn’t have enough time to assemble the order before the courier comes at 9am.

So what used to be next-day service ends up taking an extra day. If a Technician requests a part on his Monday report, he gets it Wednesday, not Tuesday, the way things worked before.

The customers start to revolt, loudly and energetically. These are industrial production machines, and when a “rocket” is delayed, it means a machine is down for an entire extra day. The customers are losing production and they are NOT happy.

Buddy gets called into a meeting on a Thursday with Owner and BadBoss demanding to know what the hell is happening. BadBoss is in full form, and says that Buddy’s job is super easy, and these delays are unacceptable.

Buddy explains exactly why the delays are occurring, it’s all because BadBoss changed his hours. Owner gives BadBoss the stink-eye after confirming that he ordered the schedule change.

“Okay, fine.” BadBoss concedes. “You go back to your old hours, starting Monday”

“I won’t be here Monday,” replies Buddy.

“What are you talking about?”

“I am on holiday for 2 weeks. Didn’t you check the vacation schedule?”

BadBoss goes red in the face. “I never approved any holiday request from you. You are NOT on holiday.”

“Yes, I am. The request was approved by GoodBoss before you were hired. Do you want to see the emails?”

“I don’t give a shit. Your holidays are cancelled.”

“Sorry, but my brother is getting married, and I am in the wedding party. I fly out to The Dominican on Saturday. I will be back in 2 weeks.”

“Who have you trained to take over your duties?” asks Owner.

“Well, back in the day GoodBoss would cover. I guess it’s up to BadBoss to cover while I am gone.”

BadBoss is stuck. He can’t very well claim that Buddy’s job is super easy, and then claim later in the same meeting that he can’t do it.

Oh, my Lord. What a shitshow.

The Technicians requested, say, a front sensor for a BoomStomper Model 31. BadBoss would ask them for a part number, and the Technician would reply, “I don’t know, Buddy knows all the part numbers.” Then he would go to The Kid, and say he needs to send a sensor to the Technician, and The Kid would point to the racks, where all the parts were labelled by part numbers. “I need a part number if you want to add it to an order”.

Buddy had an exhaustive Excel folder with all kinds of parts lists in it on his desktop. He also had a massive collection of manufacturers binders on shelves behind his desk. The Excel folder was already named something obscure, BadBoss couldn’t find it, so BadBoss was forced to look parts up in the binders. No CTRL-F in Excel to find a part number for BadBoss.

Buddy had bookmarks on his Chrome browser for manufacturer’s and vendor’s websites. He removed all the bookmarks so BadBoss, if he wanted in to log into any of these sites, had to create his own login. Buddy’s were on LastPass, but BadBoss didn’t have the LastPass password.

Buddy was also the adept with computers, so he had been given the access to the phone system portal. He set it up so that any calls to his desk phone or work cell would get “I am on vacation, in my absence, please contact BadBoss at Extension 123.” And then the call would forward to BadBoss’s desk phone, and if unanswered, to his work cell. After hours emergency calls went directly to BadBoss’s work cell, and if unanswered, to his HOME phone.

Buddy set up his Outlook with an autoreply that said to contact BadBoss, and copied Owner in.

Then Buddy shut off his work phone and took two weeks off.

BadBoss found out in a hurry that Buddy’s job wasn’t so super-easy after all. He was getting calls from irate clients, Technicians with the wrong parts, and calls in the evening that he had no way to handle. Remember that they repaired industrial machinery, and some facilities were 24-hours.

When Buddy got back BadBoss was waiting for him by the door and went ballistic. It was a screaming match that drew everyone, even Owner, who literally had to step between them.

Finally Buddy just screamed, “Fuck this shit. I can’t work with this guy.” He turned to Owner and said, “You saw how this place ran when I was doing HIS job, and now you see what it’s like when he’s doing mine. I am going back home, right now, before I do something I regret. So you have a choice to make.

“I’ll come in tomorrow and clean out my desk if this asshole hasn’t cleaned out his first.”

When he arrived on Tuesday, all the staff were grinning and BadBoss’s office was empty. Owner called him into his office and told him that BadBoss was gone and Buddy could get back to work.

“Nope,” said Buddy. “His office is empty, and I want it. I want his job, I want his pay, I want his perks. I have been here for years and you know what I can do. Put me in charge.”

And that’s how Buddy got his promotion. Since then the company has grown, and Buddy has grown right with it. There are now branches in 3 cities, a huge staff, and Buddy is in charge of it all.

And he still reminds me when my favorite band is coming to town.

TL;DR Grow an attention span.

(source) (story by PJMurphy)

[bangtanstanst]

Only You

Communication is key, especially in an office romance.

pairing: namjoon x reader, some jimin x reader banter

genre: fluff, office!au

warnings: none

word count: 2.5k

anonymous requested: “Make me.” + “That was barely even a kiss!” + “I’m not jealous.” with Namjoon.

a/n: hi everyone, I hope you’re having a great day/night! I really hope you’ll like this week’s fic♥

requests | masterlist

You let out a surprised laugh, covering your mouth with your hand in the hope that the rest of your colleagues won’t hear you. “That did not happen.”

“I swear! They were fully going at it in his office,” Jimin replies in a whisper, grinning mischievously. “And it’s not the first time I’ve seen them do it,” he adds as he leans back in his chair, twirling his pen in his hand.

You snort, shaking your head at him. “They’re married, I’m pretty sure they’re doing worse at home,” you remark.

“Jesus Christ, please don’t tell me you and Namjoon have so much as considered doing it here,” Jimin returns, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

Laughing, you shake your head, wildly waving your hands back and forth to deny his accusation. “God, no,” you reply through more laughter. “I’m just saying, them having sex is really not that scandalous.”

He lets out a breath, though he shrugs. “Still, it doesn’t mean it’s okay to do it here. Or sanitary, for that matter,” he insists, idly rearranging some of the paperwork on his desk. “For all you know, he’s bent her over your desk for a few rounds.”

Your laughter dies down and you pull a face, hands shooting up from your desk. The picture of your boss and his wife just… doing the devil’s tango on your desk? Yikes. “That’s it, I’m working at your desk now,” you decide, taking the stack of paperwork you’ve been sorting through and plopping it on Jimin’s desk, pushing him to the side so you can both work on the same surface.

He lets out a surprised laugh. “I was being hypothetical!” he defends, trying to push your chair back to your own desk. You manage to stay in your spot, though, he gives up after a few seconds. “Get away from me, I need to work,” he huffs instead, grabbing his pen and jabbing your upper arm with it.

“Karma’s a bitch, you’re stuck with me now,” you return with a grin, turning to your paperwork. When he pouts, you quirk an eyebrow at him, unable to hide your amusement. “I thought you liked being desk buddies with me.”

“Not anymore, I don’t!” he returns, though you see a small smile tugging at his lips. “You know Seokjin will be on my ass if I hand in a report late again.”

“Then stop gossiping about him!” you say through a laugh. “Take it as an educational moment, Jimin. Do better next time.”

Mock-frowning at you, he puts his fingers to the corners of your mouth, turning your lips down as best as he can. “You better wipe that smirk off your face, young lady. This is a serious workplace environment.”

You swat his hands away, rolling back to your own desk. “Fine, you’ve convinced me,” you huff, jumping up from your chair. “But I’m cleaning this whole damn desk first and you’re helping me.”

His laugh comes out above the background noise of ringing phones, chatter, your colleagues typing away at keyboards. “Deal,” he relents. “You get the supplies, I’ll empty your desk.”

With a nod, you’re off to the break room, where you know you can find some cleaning supplies. It’s across the office and you have to pass the desks of your hard-working colleagues, serious frowns on their faces as they stare at their desktops or the paperwork in front of them. Ah, what a great time there is to be had in accounting.

The break room is relatively crowded, with a small group of people chattering by the coffee machine, sipping from the disgustingly bitter liquid it has excreted. You spot Namjoon among them and you smile as his eyes catch yours, his own smile only making you that much happier.

“Morning, guys,” you chirp to your colleagues, and you receive a mix of different voices returning the greeting. Crouching down at one of the cabinets, you rummage around until you find some cleaning spray, snatching a dish towel from its spot on the kitchenette counter.

“Spilled something?” one of your colleagues asks just before you dart out of the room.

You stop and turn to look over your shoulder, shaking your head. “Jimin was spreading some dirty, dirty rumours and now I want my desk clean, if you know what I mean,” you reply, at which a laugh travels through the group.

“Good luck!” sounds a different colleague’s voice as you walk out of the room, and you chuckle, simply putting your thumb up as you walk away.

“Psst,” sounds a voice next to you for the third time in two minutes. You keep your eyes on the Excel sheet in front of you, head aching from concentrating on the tiny numbers on the screen for two hours straight. “Y/N,” Jimin insists.

Your eyes stay glued to the screen, mouse selecting one of the cells. “Hm?” you reply absently.

“Seokjin’s wife came to visit for ‘lunch’,” he whispers, at which you immediately look away from your desktop, eyes wide as they dart around the office.

“Why didn’t you just say so?” you gasp, looking at him. “Did you see anything?”

“I’ve been sitting right here this whole time, what the hell do you think?” he hisses back, glancing at Seokjin’s office door. You turn to look as well, craning your neck even though you’re pretty sure it won’t help you see or hear through the walls.

“Do you think they’re starting right away?” Jimin whispers and you jump, his voice suddenly incredibly close to your ear. You glance at him and let him put his chin on your shoulder, the both of you staring intently at your boss’s office.

“They can’t be, right? I’m sure they’re eating first.”

“But what about cramps?”

You giggle at the serious tone in his voice. “Isn’t that for when you’re going swimming?”

Jimin snorts. “Oh, you didn’t see what I saw,” he insists, his hair brushing your cheek as he shakes his head. “When I say they were going at it, they were going at it.”

You glance at him from the corner of your eye, disturbed yet intrigued, and your smile doesn’t fade. “I’m sure they –”

“Hey, babe, you ready for lunch?”

You jump once more at the sudden sound of Namjoon’s voice. As you look up at him, Jimin takes his head off your shoulder, leaning back in his chair to greet Namjoon with a smile and a nod, and your boyfriend returns the sentiment.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” you reply, getting up from your chair and grabbing your jacket from the backrest. “Jimin, you wanna join us? We’re checking out that new café on the fifth floor.”

He smiles at you and shakes his head. “Nah, you guys go ahead. I wanna finish this report first,” he replies, gesturing to the papers strewn about his desk. “Have fun, though!”

“Alright, good luck! Just don’t get too distracted spying on the boss, okay?” you tell him, shrugging on your jacket.

He chuckles, taking the high five you offer him. “I’ll do my best,” he replies, at which you laugh, and you give him a last wave before slipping your hand in Namjoon’s and walking off.

“How’s your day going?” he asks, looking aside at you with a small smile.

You glance up at him, shrugging. “I’ve been working on that new account I brought in last week,” you reply, looking ahead of you as you approach the elevators, joining a small group of colleagues waiting for the doors to open as well. “But it turns out to be a little more complicated than I thought, so now I have a bit of a headache.”

He sends you an empathetic look, thumb reaching up to massage circles into your temple. You sigh and close your eyes, leaning into his touch just slightly as you come to a stop in front of an elevator. “I have some Advils at my desk, if you want them,” he says, thumb moving down to softly wipe across your cheek.

You smile, shaking your head. “Lunch with you is more than fine,” you reply with a grin. “But I’ll be sure to come begging for an Advil when I do need one.”

He returns the smile, nodding firmly. “You better,” he says as the door opens and your colleagues file into the elevator, though the two of you are left behind when it turns out the small space is too full for you to enter.

“It’s really too bad we’re not desk buddies anymore,” you say with a huff, hitting the button to summon a different elevator. “I’ll have to go all the way across the office now.”

He chuckles, though he quickly suppresses the laughter and puts on a frown. “Yes, way too far,” he confirms with a serious nod.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Kim Namjoon, are you mocking me?”

His eyes widen comically as he shakes his head, much too frantically for him to be serious. “What? Me? No way. I’d never mock you.”

You snort at him, clicking your tongue as the doors slide open in front of you. “That’s what I thought,” you say, walking into the elevator and leaning against the wall as Namjoon punches in the button for the fifth floor, not letting go of your hand.

“Speaking of desk buddies,” he starts, leaning against the wall beside you. “Why were you and Jimin staring at Seokjin’s office?”

A laugh escapes your lips and you shake your head. “We thought he and his wife were doing it in there,” you reply casually, waving away the question. “That was why I wanted to clean my desk earlier – Jimin got the picture of them going at it on my desk in my head, and… ah, well, you get it,” you finish with a chuckle, looking up at him. He’s laughing along with you, though you narrow your eyes when you notice his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

The doors ding and slide open before you can ask him about it, but that doesn’t mean you want to let it go. When you exit the elevator and Namjoon starts to head towards the café in the corner, you tug on his arm. He stops in his tracks and turns around, eyebrows raised.

“What’s up, Joon?” you ask before he can open his mouth himself, tilting your head. “Are you okay?”

His eyes widen ever so slightly and his smile falters. He looks left and right, then takes a step towards you, taking your other hand as well. “I’m fine,” he tries at first, staring down at your hands. There’s a slight squeak in his voice that makes you think there’s more to this.

“Namjoon,” you insist. He looks up at you with a frown, as if he’s evaluating whether he should say whatever is on his mind right now, and you try to think if you’ve noticed anything strange about him before. But the weird look in his eyes only appeared when…

“Is this about Jimin?” you ask with a gasp, a small, amused smile tugging at your lips. “Are you –”

“No, no, it’s –” he starts, though he stops himself and sighs, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “I’m not jealous. I swear I’m not jealous.”

You grin at him, finding it absolutely adorable how his cheeks flush a light red colour and he avoids eye contact. “You’re jealous,” you conclude. He’s about to protest, but you speak before he can do so, “It’s okay to admit it.”

He lets out a long breath, shaking his head, though he looks into your eyes this time – you’re making progress already. “I shouldn’t be, though,” he mutters, sighing once more. “It’s ridiculously unreasonable. I completely trust you, I completely trust Jimin, and I’m still…” He averts his eyes as he shakes his head again, lips pursed into a straight line.

You tilt your head, choosing not to say anything just yet, knowing there’s more to come.

After a short silence, he lets out a frustrated sigh, cursing under his breath and looking back at you. “I’m sorry,” he says eventually, letting go of your hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I don’t know why, but I can’t help but think back to when we were desk buddies and we- well, we happened,” he continues, his hand dropping down to his side. “And I guess I’m also a little sad that we don’t have that kind of fun at the office anymore.”

You nod slowly, taking his hand in yours again. “I totally get where you’re coming from, so don’t hate yourself for it, okay?” you start firmly, at which his shoulders seem to relax, the frown on his forehead easing up.

“As long as you know that you and I are just on a whole other level than me and Jimin. I don’t even have the room to love anyone else like I love you, my heart is just too full,” you joke, making him laugh softly. You smile when he starts to play with your fingers, his cheeks still a little red. “I’m just glad you told me. Now I know I should plan in some more time to make up for all that fun we’re missing.”

His bright smile, including the dimples you love seeing so much, returns, and he nods. “I’m glad,” he says through a sigh. “Sorry again.”

“Stop apologising, Kim,” you insist, squeezing his hand. You stand up on your tiptoes and press a brief kiss to his cheek. When you move to pull back, though, he tilts his head just right so he can kiss you very briefly, warm lips pressed to yours.

You raise an eyebrow at him when you pull back, faced with his bright grin. “Starting the fun already, are we?”

He laughs at your words. “You consider that fun?” he mock-protests, staying rooted to the spot when you turn around and try to pull him off to the small café. “That was barely even a kiss!”

You look over your shoulder and send him a wink. “We’re at the office, babe, it’s all I can do right now. Sorry.”

He narrows his eyes at you and tugs at your arm, hard enough to make you stumble back into his arms. “Bullshit,” he shoots back, a mere second before he leans down to press his lips to yours, hands still holding yours.

With a sigh, you lean further into him, just for a second – before you realise you’re still at the office and you pull back. He chases your lips by leaning further down, however, and he only stops and opens his eyes when you take his chin between your fingers to gently push him back.

“Joon, we’re at work,” you tell him, lips brushing against his. “Stop tempting me.”

He just grins, taking your hand and moving it away from his chin. “Stop interrupting the real fun.”

You chuckle. “Make me,” you say, though your eyes flutter closed and you lean in, completely contradicting your words. He gladly goes along with it, though, and soon captures your lips with him again.

Oh, well. You’re not actually on your own floor, anyway. Plus, if Seokjin can do stuff in his office, you can do it here.

a/n: thanks so much for reading, I hope you liked it!! Let me know what you thought and what you might want to see next, I’d love to hear from you :) I hope you have a great day/night wherever you are!♥

requests | masterlist

Tagging @nambewb and @moonojoon to let them know it’s here, let me know if you want to be added to the list :)

[kiara-carrera]

prickly

Pairing: Platonic Fangs Fogarty & Brooke Holliday (OC), Mentions of hinted Sweet Pea x Brooke Holliday (OC)

Word Count: 1K

Summary: When Brooke took Fangs’ suggestion to respond to a job offer at a flower shop near the Northside/Southside line, she never expected that she’d be getting hired by the grandmother of the guy who kinda sorta hates her guts for no reason.

Author’s Note: Written for the Southside Archive discord’s daily prompt ‘prickly’. This also technically serves as a preview for my (currently untitled) upcoming flower shop au!

“A little warning would have been nice, Fogarty.”

A textbook is dropped onto the desk beside Fangs without warning, causing him to flinch in his seat. When he glances up, Brooke’s standing before him with a scowl on her face, blue eyes narrowed in annoyance. On any other day, Fangs would assume she’s mad because they have math this period and she’s not exactly Einstein when it comes to precalculus. 

But based on the events of the day before, he knows that’s not why she’s currently glaring daggers.

“Morning, blondie,” he greets cheerfully, a smile plastering itself across his face. He hopes his pleasant mood, a helpful reminder that she loves her good buddy Fangs, is enough to distract her from what he did.

It’s not.

Brooke slides into the chair next to him, folding her arms on the desktop. She turns to face him, giving him a look. “Don’t blondie me, dumbass.”

He cringes. “I take it you got an interview, then?” 

The question’s a bit pointless — he already knows she did, knows she got the job, too. Fangs had received a lengthy string of angry texts from his angry best friend last night on the subject. But he figures the polite thing to do is hear her pissed off version of the previous day’s events.

“Mhmm,” she hums, tight lipped. “And do you know what I found out? The kind, little old lady who runs the shop? Yeah turns out she just so happens to be the grandmother of your asshole companion.” 

For a brief moment, Fangs wonders if he can play it off like he knew nothing about this. He figures it’d go a little something like this: My best friend’s grandmother is a florist? The flower shop I told you had a job opening is hers? And Sweet Pea sometimes works there when she needs help so you’re going to be in a confined area with someone you can’t spend two minutes with? I knew nothing of this!

In all fairness, he thinks it’s a decent way out. But he spares another glance in the Northsider’s direction and it has the Serpent deflating in a second. “Okay, look, so I knew it was Sweet Pea’s grandma’s place. What’s the big deal?”

“Uh, the problem is that he’s a total asshole who basically makes it his mission to remind me that I’m just some air headed, useless Northsider any time he’s around me?” Brooke tells him, groaning at the mere mention of him. “We get into it pretty much every time Jughead brings me around for literally no reason. Like, the merger happened months ago, isn’t the whole I’m a big bad Serpent ready to fight all the Northsiders at any given moment schtick ever going to get old for him?”

She makes a fair point. Southside High and Riverdale High had merged around the start of the new semester — it was almost the end of May now. The Bulldogs still antagonized the Serpents when given the opportunity sometimes, but for the most part, things had calmed down. People were making friends, making relationships, or at least maintaining enough difference to keep the peace. 

But to be fair, Fangs is pretty sure the Northside Southside hostility had nothing to do with the fact that he always seemed to get into it with Brooke. The two were like fire and gasoline around each other, always igniting some sort of stupid argument when Brooke sat with them at lunch or came up to the group when she needed to talk to Jughead. 

At first, Fangs chalked it up to the fact that Sweet Pea didn’t like Jughead, so by extension, he didn’t like Brooke. But now, he’s not so sure. Sweet Pea had finally started warming up to Jughead’s presence — at least, as much as anyone could warm up to the Serpent Prince — but when Brooke was around, it’s like she set his bike on fire or something.

And it’s not say that Sweet Pea’s completely to blame in all of this. Brooke hasn’t been innocent in their fights, throwing as much vitriol back at Pea as he throws at her. Fangs is pretty sure Pea had been surprised when he realized Brooke could keep up with his bitter antics, sarcasm dripping from her tongue at the drop of a hat.

With that kind of tension, Fangs is at the point where he doesn’t know if they’re going to end up fucking in a closet or murdering each other.

“So what are you going to do?” Fangs asks, “not take the job?”

She rolls her eyes. Pulling her bag into her lap, she starts digging through it for her things before looking at Fangs. “Oh no, I took the job. I’m not letting him scare me away because he wants to be a dick for no reason. And he was super pissed that you told me about the opening, by the way.”

“Oh, trust me, I know,” Fangs sighs, leaning back in his seat. “And he’s not that bad. He’s just a bit ... prickly.”

“Yeah, prickly doesn’t exactly begin to cover the literal daggers I feel him glaring into my backside anytime we’re in the same room.”

“At least someone’s looking at your backside.”

Face scrunching in displeasure, Brooke brandishes her pencil at him. “That is so not what I meant, Fogarty.”

“Look, the good thing is you got the job, just ignore Pea. And hey, who knows? Maybe you two will end up getting along.” He drums his fingers on the desk, giving her a smile. “I mean, I get along with both of you so there’s gotta be some sort of common ground between you, right?”

“Doubtful, Fangs, very doubtful.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s what people say right before the situation goes all enemies to lovers.” There’s only a seconds pause before an eraser smacks off of his forehead, causing him to flinch. “Hey!”

“You say stupid things like that, you get an eraser thrown at you.”

[sourwolfstories]

Hey! Can you rec some sterek university AUs pls? Thanks you!

Oh boy… okay so this is one of my favorite tropes and I have a crap ton of these. I couldn’t fit all of my faves on here (well i could have but it would have taken forever and the list would have been HUGE) but here are several for you to enjoy!! :)

No Homo by orphan_account

Stiles’ sophomore year starts something like this:3 FourLokos+ 1 peer-pressuring cat- 1 best bro to end all best bros= 1 Craigslist ad headline that reads “str8 dude - m4m - strictly platonic”.Derek is the fool who replies.

It Started With A Whisper by allyasavedtheday, warmth

“I’m Stiles, by the way. In case you did, you know, need something, cause Librarian is kind of an old lady term and… yeah. So, Stiles. S-T-I-L-E-S, like that one dude in that band from the UK.”

Or the one where Derek and Stiles are both in college, Stiles is the school’s librarian, and Derek is just trying to study.

The Company I Keep by secondstar

Stiles has a favorite table at the library. Then some asshole comes along and steals it from him.

Maybe by MellytheHun

Tumblr Prompt:

my fave overheard on campus moment of all time was the two guys who sat behind me in pop culture theory

as class was starting one of them was like “so… do you want a blowjob after this” in a rly bored voice, and then the second guy was like [pause][dejected sigh] “yes”

Not Mine to Love by Sabeley

It should have been awkward then, as the haze of lust left them, but Derek really didn’t mind the fact that Stiles was collapsed on his chest, breathing heavily. He didn’t care that he was naked in his roommate’s bed, coming down from the best orgasm he had ever had. He didn’t even care that he had just lost his virginity to someone who wasn’t Jennifer.

“That can’t happen again,” he said simply.

It happened twice more that night and it never really stopped.

The Hunt by HenryMercury

Stiles wakes up with a hangover and the phone number of the most attractive (and the frowniest) guy he’s ever encountered.

…Who also happens to be the front-man for the band Scott’s just joined.

Pushed to the Limit by kittylovessterek (kitty_fic)

Watching Stiles get ready to go out is torture. The universe is obviously testing him. There’s only so much temptation one werewolf can take.

I Keep On Fallin’ by xKookiesandCreamx

Ow fuck!“

Stiles sprung up out of his slumber, dazedly looking around for the cause of his roommate’s pained sounding exclamation.

He got his answer when he flicked his desktop lamp on and looked to see Derek sprawled in a graceless heap on the floor by Stiles’s bed.

~~~

Or a little college au ficlet in which a middle of the night accident actually turns out to be a not so bad thing after all.

Hot Nerd Alert by alisvolatpropiis

Derek can’t believe he’s actually doing this: taking a selfie snap of the guy he’s been crushing on for weeks to prove to Danny that one, yes, he really does exist, and two, he really is that hot and thus he is totally justified in being too scared to make a move.

Or you know, even talk to the guy outside of the class they share.

In his defense, this isn’t just any guy. This THE guy. Hot Nerd. The utterly adorable but still somehow insanely sexy freshman in his twentieth century American Lit class who he’s been lusting over since the first day of the semester. If there were ever a time for him to be that person who tries to be subtle while taking snaps of other people, this is it.

Love Comes in Spurts by talktowater

Stiles has always had sort of a hero worship thing going on with Scott’s step-brother Derek so moving into a house with him freshman year was basically fulfilling a childhood fantasy. Discovering how Derek was putting himself through college, well that was a whole other fantasy that Stiles didn’t even know he had.

Your First by Simone (fvckyourfandoms)

It’s Stiles freshman year of college and he decides to rush a fraternity. He becomes Vice President Derek Hale’s favorite pledge and they end up much closer than expected.

or

A story in which Derek can’t keep his hands off of Stiles’ sweet, irresistible, virgin ass and fails at not feeling him up.

A Comprehensive Study in Getting a Boyfriend via Persuasive Essay-Writing by Luddleston

Stiles is a junior Journalism major who takes Rhetorical Strategies because it covers his English requirement. He’s also trying to be subtle about the way he keeps checking out his professor.

Derek is a grad student teaching his first class ever. He also has the most annoying student on the face of the planet, and is done reading essays about the history of male circumcision.

Flirty e-mails are exchanged, Stiles spends way too much time in Derek’s office, and they fall in love over a mutual hatred for APA formatting.

take two and hit to right by gottalovev

Stiles enjoys ogling the very handsome shortstop of the varsity team while in class. One day, when he cannot have the seat he prefers to watch the baseball diamond, he starts a conversation on his desk (including cartoon characters and eventually sharing secrets).

Unfortunately, Stiles’ first meeting with the hot shortstop - crowd darling Derek Hale - doesn’t go well. When Hale turns out to be Stiles’ desk pen pal, will they be able to move past first impressions?

If You Wanna Be My Roomie (Lover) by xKookiesandCreamx

Realistically, Stiles knew that the local University’s popularity and commonality meant that many members of his graduating high school class would be starting the Fall 2016 semester alongside him, but he never expected his longtime crush to be one of them. Even more so, he never expected said crush to be assigned as his roommate…oh boy.

Just to See You Again by MellytheHun

A sterek college!AU where writing student Stiles specializes in love letters, runs a blog about it and can be commissioned to write love letters on behalf of lovers who are at a loss for words.

He makes some cash, he’s good at what he does (especially when he gets to be a little more explicit in his letters), it pays for his textbooks and that’s all he’s really looking for and life is fine. That is, until someone anonymously commissions him to write a love letter to mathematics student, Derek Hale.

It’s Happening by isthatbloodonhisshirt

Derek stopped listening to him, brain going a mile a minute.

Derek, it’s fucking happening!Derek, please!

He would recognize that fucking voice anywhere.

Two years. Two fucking years had passed, and now this little shit was standing in front of him, speaking his name, and grinning like an idiot.

“It’s you,” Derek said, earning him a confused look from Stiles. “The phone call. Two years ago. It was you.”

Beauty and the Ex by aggybird

Stiles doesn’t want to screw up his chances with Josh, so he does something he may regret: he goes to Derek Hale, Josh’s intimidating ex-boyfriend, for dating advice.

Things don’t go according to plan. But with a little magic (and werewolves) they might go all right.

We’re caught in stone, you know we might not make it by LunaCanisLupus_22

He does this thing then, while Stiles is watching, rolls his left shoulder a little as if he’s adjusting the books in his arms and suddenly Stiles recognises him from the gesture.

“Oh my god,” he cries, dumping his books, bag and coffee into one big mess on the ground and rushing over to them at once.

Or the one where Derek and Stiles are childhood buddies who lost touch and reconnect by chance at college. Only they end up doing a lot more than just reconnecting.

There is a Brotherhood by minusoneday

So far, college has taught Stiles three things:

1) Eight am classes are cruel and unusual and should be avoided at all costs, even if it means having to enroll in something truly hideous instead, like Econ 101.

2) Dorm security is just as tight as Stiles’ orientation leader had promised it would be, and the dude guarding Scott’s dorm in particular does not respond well to bribes.

3) Mrs. McCall clearly had no clue what she was talking about when she’d insisted that Scott and Stiles needed to branch out and room with strangers, so it’s all her fault that Scott ended up with a total dick of a roommate and Stiles got stuck all the way across campus with some guy who has a girlfriend two towns over and is thus never around.

‘Linski’s Late Night Antidote To Lame by WhoNatural

Where Stiles has his own college radio show, and the mysterious, faceless Derek is his number one fan.

Also there’s this really hot guy he keeps meeting in the library who totally hates his guts.

Inside This Place Is Warm by wolfcloaks

Coming down; One love, two mouths

Stiles Stilinski:

-Senior at Berkley-Double majoring in Human Biology and Biomedical Engineering-Student Librarian-Closet Artist-Basket case extrodanaire-Hopelessly crushing on Derek Hale (read as: pining)

Derek Hale:

-Grad Student at Berkley-Philosophy Major-Dog enthusiast-Does not cry during The Notebook, fuck you,Laura-Is definitely not pining over the librarian with the cute moles-Would very much like to tell the librarian’s curly haired boyfriend to fuck off

Or

Where Derek and Stiles are complete dweebs in love and jump to horribly inaccurate conclusions

Or

When your meet-cute turns into a bit of an (light) angst fest but it’s all ok in the end

———————

If you want to find more college/university goodness you can check out my tag for it here

[comfortmarvelimagines]

how does it feel, to have a family?

found the beginning of this in my google drive, so decided to finish it ! we love irondad also peter being The Best friend/brother :) i should be studying rn but im so overwhelmed with everything and writing is truly escapism at its finest

Tony already felt like he knew y/n.

Somewhere, in between Peter’s ramblings of what he ate for breakfast and the latest corner-store robbery, little pieces of them found their way in. That they helped Peter on his english essay and got him an A. Or that they dyed their hair last week, and Peter thought it was super cool that they had the confidence to do something different. Even down to what they talked about over lunch. For the most part, Tony just accepted this like he accepted Peter’s nerdy puns and Star Wars theories, a part of him that just was. Like Ned and MJ, y/n was a support. A friend. That was good, right? Teenagers needed friends, god knows Pete could use more of them outside of the suit. So y/n became a constant, background hum in the anecdotal existence of Peter Parker.

This went on for months. Peter’s trio of friends became four and everything seemed fine. Normal. Until Peter let tidbits of information that set off alarm bells for Tony, the first of which came after a long weekend in the labs. Tag-team parenting was harder than anticipated, he ruminated after realising Peter was not in the car when he should’ve been.

“Peter, why are you making another sandwich? You’ve already got lunch and we’ve got to leave if you’re gonna get to school on time. May’ll have my head if you’re late again.”

“Y/n hasn’t had lunch at all last week and I haven’t seen them eat anything at all since Thursday, I thought I’d try to help,” Peter mumbled, jamming the lid back on the peanut butter jar.

“Yeah, cool, okay, whatever, just get your spider butt down to the car.” That was strange, but it could mean anything. They could’ve forgotten to eat, or simply eaten when Peter wasn’t around- it’s not like they were together 24/7. Regardless, it was really none of Tony’s business what Peter’s friends did, or didn’t do. What was Tony’s business, was getting his spiderling to his education. “Underoos, let’s go!”

***

The second time was when Peter left his school bag dumped on the floor of the lab, chemistry textbooks and loose papers sprawled out under the workbench. Tony only realised this as he tripped on the strap, bracing himself against the desktop to stop him falling and knocking over a piece of machinery in the process. Grumbling, he knelt down to replace the contents back of the bag, preparing a lecture for Peter about the importance of lab safety and keeping track of his belongings, when he noticed a sheet of paper crumpled into a ball. Curious, he unfolded it, reading its contents under his breath. “Midtown School of Science and Technology… Parents Evening… huh. Wonder if he remembered to show May this.” Shaking his head at the unreliability and overall disorganised-ness of the teen, he set off to go find him.

“Pete, no wonder you’ve lost so many backpacks if you can’t even remember to take it to your room when you get here! How many times do I have to tell you, just because you can just stick yourself to the ceiling doesn’t mean that the rest of us want a concussion-”

“Sorry Mr Stark.”

“Oh, right, so when you’re in trouble it’s back to formalities? ‘Mr Stark’ still almost broke his wrist regardless of what you call me… What are you doing?”

“Texting”

“Texting who? Adult’s talking, doesn’t mean the kid gets to zone out.”

“Y/n”

The softness in Peter’s voice suddenly jerked Tony back to the previous time y/n had come up. He remembered it’d had something to do with a sandwich, of worry and not eating. It suddenly struck him that they’d hardly been mentioned at all since; something gone relatively unnoticed in the constant stream of babble from Peter, but was in retrospect was decidedly odd.  He decided to play nice.

“Are they okay?” Tony paused for a second. “I haven’t heard you mention them in a while.”

He regretted it immediately, because Peter shut down. “Yeah, they’re fine. I’m sorry, I won’t leave my bag in the lab again.” He walked out, grabbing the backpack from Tony’s hand on the way out, leaving the older man too stunned to even respond. Something had struck a nerve, and if it was hitting his kid that hard he was determined to find out.

***

The third time was when Tony went digging.

The phone call had started with no intention of mentioning y/n; he simply wanted to talk to May and ask her about the flyer from Peter’s school. He had meant to bring it up earlier when he confronted him about the backpack, but after the dramatic ‘storm out and sulk somewhere else’ sequence that Peter had pulled, Tony had thought better of it and left the kid to his own devices for the night. Instead, he went straight to May, to at the very least make sure she knew about the flyer and that she was going. She picked up on the third ring.

“Hey, is everything okay?” May sounded, exhausted, like she’d been woken up by her phone. Ignoring the fact, Tony proceeded.

“Did you get the flyer about the parent information evening?”

“No, what parent evening? Pete hasn’t mentioned anything, if that’s what your getting at”. In her apartment, May shifted her quilt and propped herself up on her elbow, intrigued.  

“It’s on the, uh, 6th. Sorry, it’s kind of hard to read since your nephew shoved it down the bottom of his school bag.”

“Shit,” May whispered under her breath. “I’m working a double shift that day. I won’t be finished work until 10, there’s no way I’d be able to make it. No wonder he didn’t say anyth-”

“I’ll go.”

In all honesty, Tony really didn’t know why he said that. Not in doubt of his love for his kid, but in fear of overstepping boundaries. Were they there yet? What would Peter think? He hadn’t asked, maybe he wasn’t comfortable with Tony just showing up to a school function. Too late now.

“Tony, are you still there?”

“What, yeah, May, just multitasking.” “I said, if you’re going to go, there’s something you should know about. You’ll have to talk to Peter about it though, it’s not really my place to say. Just... ask him about y/n, his friend.”

Huh. Y/n. Again. Interesting. “Okay, thanks May. I’ll talk to you again later, have a good night.” “You too Tony, maybe try and sleep at some point.”

“Will do. FRIDAY, end call.” Tony rubbed his hand over his face. There was something going on, but if Peter wasn’t going to talk then he’d never figure it out. “FRIDAY, where is Pete?”

“Mr Parker is currently in his room. Would you like me to alert him to your imminent arrival?”

“Sure, FRI.” Tony hurried to the elevator. He needed to somehow get to the bottom of whatever was going on. There were several possibilities. Y/n and Peter could have had some sort of falling out, a fight. There could’ve been a relationship thrown into the mix, teenage angst and hormones jarring their friendship. Or, as Tony feared, something had happened to y/n, something Peter was trying to fix but, for whatever reason, couldn’t. Before they could get to that, though, he was going to have to talk about the parent night.

***

Of course, these things never go quite as planned.

“Pete?”

No answer.

“Pete, please let me in”

Really, it didn’t matter either way. Tony had every intention of overriding the code.

A sniffle sounded from just behind the door. “I’m fine, Mr Stark.”

“Yeah, and I’m the queen of England.” Tony realised he was handling the situation in the exact opposite way he’d wanted to. “Look, kid, I just wanted to talk about the parent evening at school.”

“I already know May can’t go, it’s fine.” Peter’s voice was barely audible, choked.

“No, see, here’s the thing, I talked with her earlier and we were thinking maybe I could go in her place,” he slid down the door to sit, knees up, shoulder pressed to the doorframe. “I completely understand if that’s too much, or if it’s overstepping the boundaries of what this,” he gestured even though Peter couldn’t see, “Is.” There was a tense, almost awkward, moment of silence, before the door slowly shifted inwards. Tony accepted the olive branch, pulled himself standing and went inside. Looking around, he realised Peter had balled himself up behind the door, head buried in his knees. Tony had never been more thankful that the kid wasn’t looking at him; he was pretty sure he’d done a terrible job of hiding his reaction to the uncharacteristic sight.  

The door was pushed closed with a soft click. Mindful to keep distance, Tony settled himself on the carpet a metre or so away.

The sob that followed broke his heart in two.

“Hey, buddy, hey, can you look at me for a sec?”

Peter’s puppy-brown eyes blinked over his folded forearms. Suddenly, he seemed worlds younger than 15.

“Did you want me to go to the parent night?”

Slow nod.

“Okay. That’s good, great! Can’t wait to hear all about how great my genius kid is…” he realised he was getting off track again when Peter’s face dipped back out of sight.

“You don’t have to, but did you wanna tell me what’s got you so upset? I know something was up earlier…” That was as close as Tony was going to get to apologising for not being softer, sooner. Something must’ve struck the same nerve as earlier in the lab, because Peter’s breathing hitched.

“It’s y/n.”

“I know I asked earlier, but is everything okay between you two?”

As if knocking down a dam wall, Peter launched into a rambled explanation. “May usually goes to both our classes because their parents don’t go. And lately they haven’t had any food to eat at school and they’re getting really skinny and I don’t know what’s goin’ on but I’m worried, ya know? Like I wanna save them like I save people when I’m Spider-Man but I can’t help and I don’t know what to do. May said we can only do what we can but I dunno what that means either, Mr Stark, like do I just deliver groceries to their house as Spider-Man or somethin?”

Taking mental note of how hysterically high Peter’s voice was, Tony made sure to keep his level, barely above a whisper. “Peter, do you think they’re being hurt at home?”

***

“H-heyyyy, y/n,” Peter stuttered as you swung open your locker. He was leaning against the wall, obviously trying to act casual and making his strange behaviour even more pronounced. You just raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to drop the charade.

“Okay, okay, yeah uh so are you doin’ anything on Friday?”

“Interesting question, but no. You do realise that today is Friday, unless you’re talking about next week, which I’m free too. You know I don’t do anything on Fridays,” you turned to grab your AP psych textbook out of the top shelf of your locker, not realising the bottom of your shirt rode up to the base of your ribcage. When you turned back around, Peter’s eyes were practically bulging out of his head. “What?”

“Oh, uh, nothing. I just… Mr Stark asked if I wanted to have a friend over to the compound for the weekend, since we don’t really have much to work on… and Ned’s busy… and it’d be really super cool there’s a whole theatre room and a bunch of Lego sets and some of the avengers might be there…” Peter trailed off.

“What are you saying?”

“Did you wanna come to the compound for the weekend?”

You laughed. “Peter, it sounds cool and all but I don’t have any clothes or anything on me for a whole weekend. Unless you or Mr Stark knows how to sew jeans from my textbook, than I’m super unprepared.”

“Wait… Aren’t you a similar clothes size as me? I have a bunch of clothes there, you can just borrow mine. Or we could get Happy to swing past your hou-”

“NO. I mean, I, uhm, don’t have a key? So I can’t get into my apartment? So I can’t get my clothes? I guess I left my keys at home?” You trailed off into an awkward laugh, scuffing your sneakers into the cheap linoleum.  

“Okay, cool cool cool. Uh, do you mind wearing your jeans twice? My clothes would just be a little oversized on you, but like does it matter if you have a clean top and something to sleep in?”

“Guess not. Are you sure you want me there?”

“Dude, are you serious? Of course I do! You’re my friend,” Peter hesitated, noticing your hands fumbling with the sleeves of your hoodie. A nervous habit. “It’ll be fun, I promise. I’ll see you after class, yeah?”

“Yeah.”  

***

“Hey kid. Hey, kid’s friend,” Happy’s greeting was curt, delivered with a glance up at the rear-view mirror as you and Peter a slid across the back seat of the car.

“Hey Happy,” Peter responded. You said nothing, eyes down, practically radiating anxiety. At Happy’s enquiring glance, he shook his head; now was not the time or the place to be asking questions. That’d come later, if it got to that point. Peter wanted to try and make you as comfortable as possible, not freak you out.  

The rest of the car ride was silent. You weren’t asked to speak, and so didn’t; and it almost felt like there was an unspoken agreement between Happy and Peter to just wait. Nothing much happened after, either. You followed Peter to his room, and sat cross-legged on the soft carpet to construct a Lego set. Eight pm rolled around and Tony poked his head round the door. “Hey, Pete, and y/n, yeah? You guys hungry?”

Peter looked at you and you shook your head. You’d already accepted a granola bar off MJ and the banana from Ned’s lunch, you honestly didn’t think you could stomach much more. You weren’t sure if it were even medically possible, but you were pretty certain your stomach had shrunk in the last few months. In staring steadfastly at the lego in your hands, you missed yet another knowing glance over your head; unbeknownst to you, both Peter and Tony’s concern for you had just increased tenfold.  

“Okay, well, we’re ordering pizza anyways, so what do ya want?”

“Uh, I’ll grab a meat-lover's and they’re vegetarian, so I guess a margherita?”

“Cool. Avengers are in the living room, if you wanna hang out there for a bit,” Tony turned and left, asking FRIDAY if she “got all that” as he walked. Peter let the silence hang, almost awkwardly, before asking if you wanted to take Tony’s offer of moving to the living room. You shrugged.

“I don’t mind, whatever’s easiest- whatever you want, I don’t know.”

“I promise you they’re super nice.”

You moved to unfurl you legs, shaking out the numbness as you stood. Your friend moved to follow, albeit in a significantly more athletic fashion, taking the lead as you waited for him to walk slightly ahead before you followed him down the hall. Sure, this wasn’t exactly what you’d expected, but then again could you really expect anything in this place?

***

The one expectation that was realised was that the Avengers were loud. Arguing over the TV playing something no one was watching, what felt like three conversations going simultaneously. But they were nice, and after a while you felt almost a part of this sitcom-esque, hodgepodge family of heroes. If it were anyone else, it would have felt almost painfully domestic; the mario kart competition, the playful insults around mouthfuls of garlic bread, the throwing of cushions countered by almost subconscious brushes of apology. The unspoken need for safety, for calm, for them to have this escape, was all too obvious. You felt that need, you filled that need with Peter and Ned and MJ and sometimes, it was enough. But this… This was different.

The fun and games went on for a few hours, replaced later in the night with movies and yawns and collapsed bodies under blankets. The quiet was nice, the casual gestures of affection between them all taking you by surprise. Despite giving in to expecting the unexpected, you were still caught off guard when the one-and-only Tony Stark came and took a seat next to you on the floor.  

“So,” he looked at you hard, scrutinising. An involuntary shiver wracked your spine.

“I was talking to Pete. And May. About Midtown’s parent-teacher night,” the pause was anticipatory, waiting for a reaction. The only one he got was you staring even harder at your socked feet, head bowed.

“Kid.”

No reaction.

“Hey, look at me. You’re not in trouble, I just think I can help with something.”

This elicited a tilt of your head, a glance through your peripheral. The same trick that worked on Peter worked on you, to some extent.

“I guess Peter already told you May can’t go, and so he wouldn’t be going”

Nod.

“And I was talking to May, and we agreed that if you were comfortable, I’d be more than happy to act as your parent as well as Peter’s,” at the mention of his name, Peter sidled over to join the conversation.

“Y/n, ya know, I know your home family isn’t the best, but you’re my family. And that- that means my family is your family too. You know May loves you. I love you, Ned and MJ love you. Everyone here loves you too. You don’t even really need to talk for people to see you’re amazing. You deserve all the family in the world.”

You moved your hand to rest on his, a silent thanks that meant more than you could ever put into words.  

“Will you let us be your family?”

“Pete can vouch, I’m amazing at being a humiliating parental figure,” Tony received a playful slap on the arm from Peter in response.

“Shut up, you’re a great da- mentor”

“Huh.” Tony shifted to lean back against the sofa. “I don’t mean this as a one off, either. You need something, you gotta tell someone, kid. Tell Peter, Ned, May, I don’t care who. But if what Peter’s saying is right, and you’re not… Not being treated right, we wanna help. We can help.”

“He’s right. Y/n, none of our families are conventional. I don’t have parents anymore, but I do have May and this whole deal. Tony didn’t have the best relationship with his parents, but he’s made his own family with Pepper and Rhodey and Happy and me.”

You heard a sob, and it took a few seconds for it to sink in that it was you. Peter pulled you into his side and you clung, thanking him and Tony over and over and over again because it was so nice. Too nice. It was unfathomable how any human beings could seem to genuinely care and want to do something and it wasn’t just empty promises it was real-

You weren’t alone. You were with family.

And you knew that you weren’t completely on your own before, of course you did. You went to school every day and saw your friends and it was okay, kinda. But keeping that secret and being okay and making out like the shit at home didn’t affect you? That was hard. But maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t have to do that anymore.   

After what felt like a year of wet, messy crying into Peter’s shirt, Tony stood up, back cracking.

“Alright, that’s enough feelings for tonight. Children need to sleep- spider or otherwise,” he directed at Peter before he could even breathe in protest. He bent down to your level, lowering his voice.

“Y/n, we’ll sort all this out tomorrow, yeah? We can make sure you’re getting enough food, schedule so you’re not at your house too much if you don’t want to be, figure out a system so we know if you’re not safe. It’ll be okay, kiddo. We got ya.”

And for the first time in your life, you felt like you were home.

[sweet-general-mayhem]

Tried to figure out how this would work out, and ended up writing a mini-chapter to make it happen, I think this would take place somewhere after chapter 8 but before chapter 11, might end up throwing it in the fic if I end up finding space for it. Story was written on desktop so I don't think to formatting/colors/readmore work on mobile and I apologize in advance for that.

2,000 worded story that kind of takes place in the Alternate fic implied RexCop (and ConstructionCop I guess, cause like Rex is Emmet)

Emmet wakes up on the couch, which he has become pretty accustomed to since Rex moved in. But at least this time he is plesently surprised to find Rex had managed to grab a blanket before passing out on the bottom of the double decker couch.

He gently takes off the blanket and folds it into a nice little square, smiling as he notices that Rex had actually taken the little teddy bear Lucy had won for Emmet a couple of days ago to bed with him. He places the bear on top of the blanket and starts to get read for the day.

Hey Rex are you awake yet?

Emmet hears some sort of mumble from Rex and sighs, as he starts choosing an outfit for the day.

Rex you gotta wake up, you have an early shift today at the precinct.

No you have an early shift today at the precinct.

No I- Rex you sound less blue than usual, wait am I allowed to say that. Is that breaking the Frank Grimes rule. Have we takes about the Frank Grimes rule yet, I feel like that was brought up in chapter 9.

But Rex is already back to sleep, leaving Emmet's mind alone to wander as he contemplates the current timeline of this fic.

As his mind wanders off that topic, he begins to think about what exactly happened last night. Rex got back late from some important police mission, invited the cops over and showed off his cool bar tending skills by making cool drinks for them. And then Rex convinced Emmet to try a drink, it was just a bunch of fruit juices thrown together with a shot of vodka, but it tasted pretty good. But Emmet, much like Rex, was a super late get weight, and got tipsy off of one shot and started rambling on about obscure Mario speedrun facts. He’s pretty sure he made Rex super embarrassed, so that was fun. Emmets figures he fell asleep not to long after that, missing out on whatever Rex and the Cops talked about, but they just have stayed up pretty late since it felt like Rex was only now falling asleep.

Emmet sighed as he pulled on the police uniform, I guess I can show up to work for him, I’ll just do it until he bothers to wake up. I mean we kind of both passed the physical together, and technically the letter of recommendation was written for me not him, so I work there as much as he does.

Emmet looks down at the name tag on his uniform, labeled Rex, and runs his hand over it. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to go out and be Rex for a few hours, but he knows Rex is already kind of on thin ice with Bad Cop since Rex does really like to break laws, and since Rex was almost as bad at making a move as he was (it only took Emmet five years to get a girlfriend) he didn’t want Rex to lose his chance at getting potential boyfriend.

Emmet puts the name tag back down, thinking about how happy Rex was to get that lil name tag, how Rex really appreciated having something to call his own, even it was small like that. If this encounter is taking place before chapter 10 Emmet is also thinking about he hopes no one notices that he’s wearing a name tag that says Rex on it. .

Emmet is at the precinct in no time, covering his face as he walks in and towards Bad Cop’s office. Since Rex works directly under Bad Cop. For various reasons.

Emmet let’s out a sigh of relief as he sees the Cops aren’t here yet, and goes to the back of the room to start a pot of coffee.

Emmet has three cups poured out, and almost spills all of them as he gets startled by the door opening behind him.

Emmet had lot out a noise that sort of sounded like squeak after being startled, and he was happy that Rex was still to asleep to berate him for letting out that noise.

Emmet hopes the Cops would ignore the squeak and turns around, smiling to see Scribble Cop.

“Good morning, you guys are here a little late.”

“Well you know traffic this time of day.”

“Oh yeah, I always try to get to the shuttle at least an hour or two early.”

“Is Dangervest not-”

“Oh he’s-” wait shiz can I say he’s asleep on the job that will look bad, I can’t make him look bad, well he makes me look bad in front of Lucy. But I’m supposed to be better than him, that sounds bad, I’m supposed to be nicer than him, that still sounds bad but not as bad, oh hey I need to say something, what’s a good lie, “Rex is wanting me to help me around the office today, he felt bad that I did a lot of the work for the physical and then he got all the credit.”

Emmet thinks Scribble Cop is giving him a skeptical look over him saying he did a lot of the work for the physical, so he chimes in, “like thar super cool punch that broke the giant robot apart that was me, and I did the really cool jump up the rock wall.”

“I didn’t realize you were that athletic.”

“I took weight lifting in highschool, and sort of kept up with it after I got out,” and then, to prove his point, he goes over and lifts Scribble Cop up like he’s a bag of flour, “see I'm pretty strong.”

Emmet looks down at Scribble to see him blushing pretty hard, and Emmet realizes that maybe picking people up bridal style isn’t something that’s normally done. Well he does it with his friends, but his friends aren’t like good for basing societal guidelines on.

Shortly after Emmet had picked up Scribble, Bad Cop switches and demands to be out down, and Emmet quickly complies, gently placing him on the grounf.

“Sorry if I crossed any boundaries there, Officer Boss Sir.” Emmet wasn’t particularly good at remembering people’s titles, so he just says all possible titles at once hoping one is right.

“Its no problem,” Emmet wonders if Bad Cop is blushing, he’s pretty good at keeping a straight face, so it’s hard to tell. But Emmet does notice he sounds a little tired, “but we got work to get to Brickowski,” Bad Cop walks over and pushes some reports to Emmet.

Emmet squints at the papers for a moment, before finally conceding, “the print is to small for me to read these,” (see previous unpublished chapter where Rex & Emmet failed their eye exam because as a kid they would be dared to see how long they could stare at the sun, and caused permanent eye damage).

Scribble Cop switches back after Emmet says this, being reminded of something, “oh that’s right, we picked you two up a little something,” and Scribble takes out some cool 80’s shades that has a metal frame and an orange tint to the glass, “they should be your prescription.”

Emmet timidly puts them on, and is now shocked at how clear things were, “these are awesome, oh man Rex is gonna love this when he-” wait don’t say he’s asleep dumb head, “gets to wear them later.” Wow I’m a really good at avoiding the truth, Rex would be so impressed if he wasn’t sleeping in right now.

Scribble smiles after Emmet says this, and Emmet turns his attention back to the know readable reports, something about a kid trying to commit arson, Emmet feels that is strangely familiar but can’t place his claw hand on exactly why.

“So what do we need to Officer Boss Sir, punch this adolescent into obediance?” Emmet still isn’t quite sure what a police man’s job is, but Rex seemed keen on implying there would be a lot of punching involved in the job, and Emmet still having not learned his lesson from the King Kong incident (self explanatory), is still blindly trusted him.

“Oh heavens no, we just need to sit down with them, tell them the dangers of fire, and contact their parents."

”Okay so the report suggests the kid is going to be hitting up the chain super convenient store that I go to regularly with Rex at 1AM, we should be able to get there in like ten minutes.“

”Why do you go there regularly?“

"Oh me and Rex get bored late at night a lot and just goof around there, you know punt the baby dolls over the aisles, try to figure out what figures are in various blind bags, petty theffffff felt, we buy putty and the felt, that’s what I was going to say, we buy putty and felt to make some of those asmr videos,” Emmet let’s out a nervous laugh, relieved to see Scribble Cop was totally believing that statement and not realizing Rex commits petty theft to fight against the corporate megabrand and their harmful anti-union tactics, “well we should get out to the city if we want to apprehend this kid,” and Emmet starts walking to the door, and looks back to see Bad Cop writing down some things in the ‘Probable Crimes that Rex Dangervest has Comitted’ document, and let’s out a groan, knowing Rex was gonna be pissed Bad was now onto their petty theft at local Walm*rts.

Emmet and Bad Cop make it to the Super Chain Convenient Store in 16 minutes, it would’ve been a 10 minute drive but they stopped get breakfast first.

Everyone gets out of the car and heads to the front of the store. Emmet is fiddling with his sunglasses, as he eats his power burrito he had gotten. It doesn’t taste particularly good, but he knows it’s important to Rex to keep their body in shape and he’s trying to respect that. But he looks over to the chocolate drizzled croissant Scribbs is eating, and starts really regretting his decision to get the sad excuse of a burrito. He suddenly gets the great idea to do something Rex would later yell at him for. He turns to Scribble and asks, “mind if I grab a bite of that?”

“Oh sure buddy,” Scribble Cop starts to move his hand to break off a piece of the breakfast item for Emmet, but Emmet being Emmet had already leaned over, less than an inch from Scribble Cop’s face, and takes a bite, and then leans back, enjoying the delightful taste sensation, completely unaware of that the officer next to him was frozen in some sort of shock.

Eventually Bad Cop gets tired of this and switches in, pushing the rest of the croissant over to Emmet, Emmet asks why, and Bad Cop mumbles something about losing his appetite. Emmet doesn’t question that at all happily finishes the rest of it, and has a really cute little smile as he cheerfully follows Bad Cop into the store.

“The kid should already be in the store-” Bad Cop stops talking when a voice over by the registers is heard.

“Yeah Im going to go use this stuff to commit arson!” The voice is a little to happy about this, and sure does sound familiar to Emmet- he squints over and low and behold it’s Unikitty, with a some lighter fluid and and a whole lot of matches

“We got the perp,” Bad Cop starts to head to register and Emmet does a little jog behind him.

“Wait I thought you said it was a kid?”

“That’s what people have been reporting.”

“Bruh, Unikitty is an adult, I think, when I lived with her she paid taxes and stuff.”

“If she is an adult will need to change our approach here, ending with her arrest-”

“Oh haha I’m just joshing with you, that’s what the kids say right, joshing? But uh, Unikitty is totally a kid, she has to be, she lives with her dad right now and like does kid things.”

“You know her father?”

“Well I think he might be like an adoptive father, but yeah I met him, kind of boring by the rules sort of guy. He’s also just like a floating brick. I don’t know how that works, have you ever been the Unikingdom, all the people there are kind of… Weird.”

Bad Cop nods in agreement at that statement, and they move on from that topic eventually making it to Unikitty and the concerned sale clerk, who upon seeing the officers quickly books it to the nearest door.

Bad Cop doesn’t really pay attention to that, and just let’s out a loud cough causing Unikitty to turn around, suddenly go into her aggressive form upon seeing Bad Cop. But then she turns and see’s Emmet and instantly calms down.

“Emmet you’re a cop now, does Lucy know you’re promoting the status quo of our biased and unfair society?”

“Yeah she knows and she’s kind of pissed at me for it, but we aren’t here to talk about my rocky relationship right now, we’re here cause there’s been reports of you trying to commit arson around the city.”

“Oh yeah, Rex told me commit arson.”

“…What.”

“Oh, uh Rex is this nice guy I met before at the Game Center, and we hung out for a little bit and we were just talking and he said, 'trans people can do anything,’ I was like 'I wanna do arson!’ and he was like, 'trans people can and should commit arson,’ and to prove his point we went around town trying to commit arson, but like we couldn’t find any place that would help us commit arson that night, so we didn’t end up doing anything, but I was bored today so I was gonna go burn some things!”

Emmet sees Bad Cop pull out his, 'Probable Crimes Rex Dangervest has Committed,’ and groans, but turns his focus back to Unikitty.

“Unikitty, that’s bad, fire can hurt people.”

“But I’m on fire like all pthe time, it doesn’t hurt me!”

“You’re a magical creature Unikitty, most of us aren’t as unique as you, and when we catch fire it hurts a lot, please don’t set things on fire.”

“Bluhhh.”

“Also we’re gonna have to call Richard about this.”

“No what, he’s gonna be all upset that I’m in trouble with the police again.”

“You were trying to break the law, you’re lucky to be getting off this easy.”

“Well is Rex gonna get in trouble for this.”

“Ohhhh he is, as soon as he wakes up I’m going to-”

Emmet winces after he says this, looking back as Bad Cop, who he thinks is smirking at him.

“Ah, so Dangervest has been sleeping on the job.”

“No, I mean yes, sorry Officer Boss Sir, I don’t think he fell asleep until I woke up this morning-” Emmet realizes he’s talking with Unikitty right in front of him. Unikitty, who doesn’t know about the whole situation yet, “have I mentioned that Rex is my roommate.”

“Oh my gosh you guys are roommates! Are you dating?”

“What no he’s like my brother maybe, also he wants to date the Cops over there anyways,” Emmet panics after saying this and switches topics, “hey this is about you and not listening to Rex, he’s a bad influence on people-”

Oh so you think I’m a bad influence?

Oh so you’re awake? Why were you letting Unikitty commit crimes?

Cause screw the police.

Hey that’s what you’re trying to do here, not me.

Oh by the way thanks for saying I have a crush on them, like right in front of their face.

Dude I’m pretty sure they already know, neither of us have been subtle.

What do you mean us-

Emmet snaps back into reality to see Bad Cop had taken Unikitty to the side as was calling up her father figure.

He felt a little relieved, at least no one was in serious trouble at the moment.

Oh hey Scribbs let me eat his croissant this morning that was really nice.

He did?

Yeah he offered it to me, and I just leaned in right next to him, like really close I might have brushed against his face, and took a bite, and then I guess he wasn’t feeling well cause his face turned bright red and he couldn’t finish eating, and he let me have the rest.

Emmet you dumb pile of bricks, he thought you were flirting with him

“Brickowski were heading back to the station,” Bad Cop said, signalling for him to follow.

“Coming Officer Boss Sir,” and Emmet jogs behind next to Unikitty as Rex tries to explain to Emmet that you can't just finish another man's croissant.

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S2 Ep 48: Bakura Completely Fails to Murder The One Person He Was Actually Supposed to Murder

Yo guys, this is the last episode of the season.

...

I know. How exactly do you resolve ANYTHING in one episode? The secret is, you don’t. Like...one thing did get resolved but it really seems like this was a 2 season storyline they were really banking on doing so well it would stretch into season 2 but, according to bro, this show got hella cancelled?

I can’t believe it. Finally. I’ve been joking about it for like a year but it actually happened.

Now my bro is full of spicy headcanons about this show and I decided to look up on Wikipedia to see what the hell happened between Season 2 and 3 for him to say this but I saw nothing about cancelling anything, but he’s pretty certain that this happened. So, I’m gonna open it up to all of you guys who know way more about this show than either of us to set it straight--was there cancellation drama between Season 2 and Season 3 or is bro just remembering history incorrectly?

Anyways, this show is obviously around for Season 3 but bro says it gets distracted and everyone has hinted that we get a really great filler arc that is most people’s absolutely favorite arc in the entire world. I’m honestly shocked I made it this far. But, lets first get into the episode.

This episode starts exactly where I wanted it to, with Tea realizing that she’s not only wandered into Bakura’s room, but that, from her perspective, it has made Bakura so freakin uncomfortable that he hella left.

Like imagine with me that your on a High school trip and you’re with all your buddies but then there’s that one kid who is a friend, but you don't know TOO well because he’s kind of awkward and also half a murderous ghost. Imagine he gets hella sick and then for some reason, you sleepwalk to his bedside, all draped across the sheets, and when you wake up he’s just...peaced right out of that entire awkward conversation that would have been.

Like...my reaction would have been completely the opposite of what Tea did.

Which was run straight to her somewhat-boyfriend Yugi Muto and tell him exactly what she just inadvertently did.

Also, forgive me for this aside, but Yugi is like 16, so why is Yugi randomly kind of jacked all of a sudden? Is that little backpack he carries just full of lead?

Oh wait, yeah...necklace is solid gold. But even still like...this small boy shouldn’t appear this jacked. Like, I know a lot of preteen girls were into this show for the large selection of anime boys, but I prefer Yugi looking sort of like the human version of a Pekingese instead. Mostly because I’m an adult, I guess. Not that I never had a preteen anime boy crush phase, but we’re talking Tuxedo Mask, who was sort of developed to be a preteen anime boy crush. Like, Tuxedo Mask has literally no other reason to exist except to be a perfect husband who gets abducted a lot, but Yugi? Like..he sells cards, why’s he gotta grow up?

My bros current spicy headcanon is that he’s slowly becoming jacked because of being in the Shadow Realm so often, and that it beefs you up like when Goku goes to space and turns the gravity on super duper high, but sure bro, you do you. Bro’s got a spicy headcanon for every loophole this show throws at us. (and it is surprising which ones were actually correct and which were probably a fanfic he read in High School.)

(read more under the cut)

Anyways, Yugi thankfully puts on a jacket and they decide not to wake up Joey’s room to see if Bakura also joined the Boy Chamber after Tea kicked him out but like...while that would be the most reasonable place to look, they decided to see if maybe Bakura is sleeping in...the hallways? I dunno why they immediately thought Bakura was kidnapped. Now that the ring isn’t with him then...there’d be no reason for Marik to kill him.

Then again, maybe Bakura kind of wanders off and does ghost stuff so often, that these two are always checking up on where Bakura wandered off to?

I guess these two just didn’t feel like waking anyone up. Or using the enchanted necklace Yugi just got. Or asking Roland the security guard. Or maybe, I dunno, ever asking Kaiba for help, who is still absolutely awake and doing literally nothing else with his time.

Like serious talk, a lot of this season’s problems would have been resolved if they had just gone to the guy in charge of the tourney and asked for him to use his endless resources to help out the tourney that he is hosting. Like, he would have done it. I know this is a bit of a stretch but I don’t think Kaiba wants people dueling to the death at 3AM. Especially if he can’t watch them do it.

I appreciate that the blimp was so important to Kaiba that he rendered it in 3-D and has it just rotating there, weirdly CG while the rest of this screen is drawn. Also, Kaiba’s desktop situation is an absolute nightmare, this boy is somehow managing a company but he cannot manage a desktop?

PS are you ready for this outfit without the horrible spiky shoulder jacket? Are you ready? Because I wasn’t.

he can’t seem to get away from that victorian gothic lady silhouette.

And so Kaiba is faced with a problem, he’s only got a low win chance to get this card the fair way. This would be a great time to just arrest Marik right now, although it would be somewhat difficult since their duel to the death is halfway over, but like, Kaiba also really likes losing at cards. He says he doesn’t, but Kaiba seems to sprint to every opportunity he can get to absolutely lose or only just narrowly win because your Dead Wife Card sent you a weird hallucination that one time.

Like...of the times that Kaiba’s dueled solo we’ve only seen Kaiba win twice, right? And once was to a random guy on the street? Yeah. Kaiba’s only won a single time on screen.

I mean, of course, unless you count the time he threatened to commit suicide if he lost and Yugi was like “What the hell!?” but I don’t know if we should count that as like...a game.

Despite the fact that Yugi has never once offered her even like...a coat in this freakin weather, Tea has decided that they’re official enough, that she will argue with him about how they now both...share a destiny??? This feels like jumping the gun a little bit?

I don’t know what the hell she’s even talking about. But she’s been treating it like they’ve been married for like 8 years. Which...would require a little bit more...supporting evidence for me as a viewer that Tea and Yugi would actually be this much of an item at this point.

Like at least she’s not a reincarnated soul of his dead wife stuffed into a playing card--this show has pulled weirder random romance plots out of it’s ass--but it’s a huge leap to suddenly tell me “And remember these two???? This romance of the ages?????” at this point, this far into the end of the season.

And like...don’t be misled by my description of this conversation, they never once even come closer than a foot of each other.

Everything about this is kinda weird. No kinkshame of course, all ships are good and valid. But, assuming that Marik’s got a foot in both Tea and Bakura’s brain right now, these two are 6 people right now (2 are Bakura, if he’s still swimming around with Tea, it’s unclear), and 2(3) of those people has tried to kill both of them, but now are piggybacking on these guys’ bodies that are currently fumbling about how the hell to date even. Imagine how awkward Marik feels rn. Just imagine.

Or maybe he’s super into it, Marik’s a nut.

Pharaoh just kind of rolled his eyes and walked through this mist door as Tea stood uselessly on the other side and it’s like, yeah, we feel you, Pharaoh, we don’t know why that conversation had to happen either.

Meanwhile, I’ve been skipping the card game portion which actually looked very nice. Again, it was the last episode, they upped their game, but that won’t come through in caps so just know--that was nice. but because Bakura decided to do the taboo of playing a God Card, it absolutely royally screwed him over. and then Marik fused his body to it like Final Fantasy and it’s like...sure why not. It’s the last episode. Fuse your body with a playing card, no one will question how that would have worked outside of a shadow game.

Anyways, Marik kinda saw that happen and was like, well damn. Didn’t know it could do that. Weird, right? Huh. So much for living in obscurity and being tortured underground and keeping the Pharaoh’s secrets for 5000 years, apparently we knew...NONE OF THEM.

And then Bakura died, and even dropped us an iconic one liner as Marik sends him into the darkness while saying “enjoy the darkness!” or something like that. This was extremely 2000′s. It’s fine to be cliche if you’re...Bakura. You kinda have to be. That is the whole point of Bakura.

So he said, something like this

Like the exact line was more like...”Did you forget, I AM darkness??” or something, but man, that sums up the whole of Bakura so well. Like, he doesn’t make sense. But, he doesn’t have to, because the point of Bakura is that he’s just a walking 00′s prototype and that’s what makes him great. Like if you could make the 00′s hot topic aesthetic (minus the meme shirts) into a candle and then burn it down to nearly the end of the wick--that’s Bakura.

Like I watch kids as a dayjob and the other day the 12yo was like “I drew stuff, do you want to see?” so I was like “Absolutely!” and she’s like “I warn you--it’s kind of messed up.” and I’m like “that’s fine” and she’s like “no but really it’s spooky, ok? I just want to warn you.” and I’m like “try me” and she flips open her ipad and in the apple version of MSpaint I kid you not it was

A happy face

crying black tears.

And I’m like “Wow.” and she’s like “I know, it’s pretty dark” and I’m like “well, not exactly, he seems pretty cheerful” and she was like “well this one is really really scary are you ready?” and I’m like “OK, because that one was pretty happy” and she’s like “no Rach this one is like reallllllly messed up. You’re going to think I’m crazy.” and I’m like “oh shoot” and she flipped open to the next page in her ipad and it was

A happy face

It’s eyes are bloodshot. (magenta blood. It was Magenta)

And I’m like “wow! He’s even happier!” and she was like “But this is the scariest thing I’ve ever drawn in my life!” because to a 12yo, that is scary. Like it’s funny to me because honestly, the way kids and even teens think of what is “scary” is so different than what is “scary” to an adult. And Bakura is sort of like the personification of an MSpaint happy face crying blood tears.

Like, he’s different than Marik in that Marik’s backstory was super well established, while Bakura...never needed one. Apparently he will get one, but he honestly doesn’t need it. He’s just a nightmare that a kid would have. I don’t really question the logic of what happens around Bakura vs everyone else because...he’s Bakura.

I do question that he somehow got beaten by Marik. That doesn’t add up for me, but honestly the other Marik kind of messed Bakura up so...you could say he was doomed to fail that. It was more that Marik beat himself and dragged Bakura with him.

And like, I’m not upset that I don’t have to look up Britishisms anymore and take notes during British Bake Off and then completely lose those notes when it comes time to write these. But wow, I will miss Bakura.

Didn’t know I’d miss you until you were gone, little gross disgusting buddy.

Didn’t realize how I’d miss you killing off random people all the time and pretending to be a good boy while leaving little cookie crumbs of a storyline that will apparently not even get picked up until like forever from now.

Ah, so lets pour a glass of fries that we call potato chips, pour some vinegar all over them and remember our favorite Bakura moments.

Like that time he straight up murdered everyone on this show and then inspired me to pick up bro’s idea to create this entire blog series.

Or that time he tried to possess Mokuba but then got stomach punched by Tristan while everyone else canonically thought Tristan was taking 4 hours to poop.

Or that time he decided “Screw this, I’m just going to use lasers!” and then never used lasers ever again.

Or that time they all walked in on Pegasus doing human sacrifices of living people and Bakura went “Oi, that’s a little much!” and then wiped everyone’s memories and dragged them back to their rooms, including Pegasus.

Or that time he decided to swing from the rafters of a warehouse and knock over Bandit Keith, and then say “Oi, all better” and then just walked away while the entire warehouse combusted into flames.

Or that time he just held up a recently used disembodied eyeball and then in the Japanese version, licked it clean.

I will miss you, you freakin weirdo, and will I ever get to write about him again? I actually have no idea. Season 5 is a really long time from now. I’ll keep the Bakura color palate saved in the corner of my Photoshop, but ah, it will be a forever from now before I get to click it again. If I ever do.

But congrats to his voice actor who now gets to take a very long drink of tea and fix whatever the hell talking like Bakura does to your vocal chords.

Marik picks up the ring although I’m not sure that it matters and now I’m very confused as to where the hell the absolutely never-washed eyeball went. Maybe he saw it rolling around down there and was like “I’ll have to come back with a ziplock baggy for that.”

We started this season with Yugi being late and arguing with Tea about being late and now we end the same way. It all came together.

Yami could have done something, but there wasn’t enough time in this season, so he just let Marik walk free.

I swear, Yami.

In her defense, maybe this is what jammies actually are when you live underground?

And then, to make things even more complicated, Marik has decided to show up to Ishizu as...Tea.

Also, miracles of miracles, this plot thread actually paid off:

And then for I guess 2 Seasons Bakura just plays with Yugi’s Tomogachi’s and does calf raises on all these stairs. I would say he’d have to avoid running into Pharaoh, but I feel like Pharaoh only really hangs out in the one room at the entrance. He doesn’t seem to really care about these doors anymore.

At least someone was there for the Tomogachis, in the end. Mine has been dead for 20 years, but Yugi’s will live on apparently eternally. The immortal Tomogachi (which was apparently featured in Season Zero?).

Stepping away from the Yugioh Tomogachi headcanon, lets see what Marik’s up to. Oh that’s right, that thing he keeps trying to do.

Nice.

And just when I thought this episode was finally over, get ready for it, get ready for this massive plot dump that just comes right out of no where so quickly I didn’t even get to fit it all in one cap.

That’s right, this season ended with a cliffhanger of Seto saying along the lines of he stole his father’s company (OK?) and then his Stepfather got super pissed and fled here and then Kaiba built a huge ass phallic tower on it and like...it was a lot for the last 1 minute of the show.

Anyways, it ends with Kaiba being like “NOW DO YOU UNDERSTAND, WHY WE’RE COMING HERE, TO THIS ISLAND, TO PLAY CARDS!?” and it’s like no, no one understands, Kaiba. Your brain doesn’t work right. This is weird.

This is so freakin weird.

Kaiba was giving the Ishtars a hard time about their family issues being resolved with his tourney, and it was because apparently he was ALSO using this tourney to resolve his own family issues the entire time.

Anyway, I never expected for Kaiba to become such a dominant character on this show but we are going to Kaiba island. Another freakin island.

So Season 3 is apparently way different and my bro was like “we can just skip all that filler? We can skip like 20 episodes.” and I was like “That is not the point of this blog. We are watching the filler.”

Now, just FYI I’m gonna take a break for a bit between seasons, probably for about 2 weeks or so. I’m probably going to make a little buffer because life stuff will inevitably pop up and I’d hate to go too off schedule now that I know Pharaoh wears PJs in season 5. Like, I enjoy doing this blog, it’s incredibly nice to do something that isn’t art related and has zero expectations assigned to it, but it is a side project, so I gotta prep accordingly.

That being said, thanks so much y’all for reading these, and all the nice comments (which I am very bad at responding to, especially since it really feels like tumblr doesn’t...have a response ability built in). I was really only making these with bro to cheer him up when he hated his job and was quitting--and then he quit and we continued to make them because last year was pretty stressful (like I don’t talk about it here because this is a happy blog but damn I’m glad 2018 is in the trash) That other people seem to enjoy these rants was fun and unexpected. So thanks for reading and putting up with the fact we know very little about this series. Well, now I know an awful lot actually. Scary how much I know about Yugioh now. Eh.

I got a graveyard post I’ll probs put out there around next weekend, in the meantime, but, other than that...I’ll see y’all in Season 3.

And if you just got here, this is a link to read the recaps in chrono order from s1 ep 1

[zupeiza]

Korrasami Month 2018 - The Race

Once upon a time, Atalanta was a powerful huntress that had made a vow to never marry. Surrendering to her father insistence, she offered to marry anyone who could outrun her—but those whom she overtook she speared. In one race Hippomenes was given three of the golden apples of the Hesperides by the goddess Aphrodite; when he dropped them, Atalanta stopped to pick them up and so lost the race.

Jinora closed the ancient book she was examining and sighed. After putting it back on the shelf, she pondered where to look for reading material next. Republic City Public Library had seriously taken its toll after Kuvira's attack, and to make things worse, becoming the hiding spot for a particularly vicious gang of firebending crooks reduced the amount of salvageable books and scrolls to less of a hundred.

The young master airbender looked outside through the newly-restored windows. If only they could access to all the knowledge they had in Wan Shi Tong's library... They wouldn't even need to bring the originals with them, maybe just... copy them? In some format that was not so flammable, if possible? She made a mental note to talk with Asami about that, she would probably figure out a way to manage it.

But until then, maybe visiting Wan Shi Tong's library was enough. Maybe the librarian would allow them just browsing the material. After all, the Unalaq debacle had happened years ago. And yet, she was reluctant to try. But she glanced the single shelf with all the remaining reading material they had. It was time to at least try.

She sat cross legged on the floor. The library was empty and the restoration works had managed to turn it back to its silent state. It was a good place to meditate. Better than home, even, without Ikki and Meelo interruptions. She concentrated, and in the blink of an eye there she was, in the middle of her favourite place of the spirit's world. Some knowledge-seeking foxes were startled by her apparition, but they went back to their business, and Wan Shi Tong was nowhere to be seen. Well... maybe she could just take a look to some of the books there, before she faced the scary owl spirit.

She looked around. The aisle where she had appeared was as good place as any to begin her search. The banner at the head of the aisle read "Greek mythology". Uh-huh, whatever that is, let's find out - she thought. She took a beautifully decorated volume that called her attention, it had really detailed illustrations of people - nude people in some cases, she realized, blushing - with strange-looking robes, nothing like she had seen on any of the Four Nations styles. Also, the animals, or spirits, were different to what she was used to. "Maybe 'greek' means 'fantasy'" she muttered to herself. She opened at a random page and began reading. "In Greek mythology Atalanta was an Arcadian heroine-"

***

"I don't care what you want, father! Just because you want a heir for Future Industries, it doesn't mean you get to decide who I marry with!"

Asami stormed off her father's office slamming the door. She was sick of it, of all the self-absorbed, full-of-themselves suitors pursuing her day and night. Sometimes it was charming, granted, but very soon, every time, she discovered that they weren't interested on how she was but what she was, a heiress. And she wasn't just that! Not to boast, but she was a brilliant engineer, a more-than-capable fighter and an excellent driver and...

"That's it!" She stopped on her tracks and went back to Hiroshi's Sato office. She opened without knocking only to find her father lost in thought.

"I'll marry... whoever beats me in the racetrack." Hiroshi's brow arched, he didn't expect that. "But if I win, you have to make those candidates of yours to stop pursuing me, and you will not ever attempt to force me into any marriage". Asami crossed her arms awaiting a response.

Hiroshi pondered for a moment. Yes, she was her best satomobiles tester, but that didn't mean she was the best driver in the world. He was starting to feel desperate with his attempts to secure his legacy, and the look in Asami's eyes made her think this was no bluff but an ultimatum.

"Very well, it will be as you wish" Asami dropped her arms as she wasn't expecting her father to agree so quickly. "But this will require some time to prepare... " He looked at the calendar in his desktop and browsed through its pages "It will be in three months from today."

Asami nodded, and started planning her practice schedule. Three months was more than enough to achieve perfection. There was no way she was going to lose this. There was just too much at stake.

***

"You won't believe what Huan just told me!" Opal announced stepping into the training grounds of the Air Temple Island. Bolin and Korra stopped their training session and looked at her. "My brother Wei is entering the road race to opt to Asami Sato's hand!" Bolin and Korra remained silent and exchanged an amused look. "What?" Opal exclaimed, throwing suspicious glances to both of them.

Korra shrugged and said nonchalantly "Nothing! I just thought Wei of all people wouldn't be so interested in... *ahem* ... plus isn't he a bit young for marrying?" Bolin sniggered beside her, not really helping the Avatar to get out of trouble.

Opal decided it wasn't worth to feel offended, in fact she had thought very much the same when receiving the news. "Well, it seems like Mr. Sato is trying to establish some sort of industrial empire, so he has been contacting most of the big families throughout all four nations searching for a *worthy* heir for his daughter, and that includes my own one. But apparently there is a catch, and it's that she has only agreed to marry if she is beaten in a road race. And according to this article it will take place in less than three months" She showed the newspaper in her hand to her boyfriend and Korra. Korra held the article but couldn't tear her eyes from the picture of the Future Industries heiress even if Opal continued with her explanations "But you're right, and I just think this is a last resort kind of thing for Mom trying to marry off Wei..." Opal finished sheepishly. Her mother seemed to be very open in other aspects of life, but when it came to her children she was adamant to let them live their lives freely. "Well, I'll leave you to it, sorry I interrupted your training!" and with a swift of air she flew out towards the air bisons barn.

Bolin noticed Korra was still transfixed with the newspaper article. He waved his hand in front of Korra's eyes to break the spell, but she seemed lost in thought. Then Korra raised her eyes from the article and muttered "Bolin, I think I'm in love". Bolin looked surprised to his friend, looked at the dark beauty picture in the newspaper and back to his friend. He started jumping up and down and screamed "OOOOHHHH!! This is so goophhhh mmhhh!!" Korra muffled his mouth bending a chunk of earth to silent him while shushing her excited buddy. Bolin tried to look outraged while he spitted the soil out, but he couldn't help to be happy for her. He stopped moving and putting his hand in Korra's shoulder he whispered "Okay, but you know we need a plan, right?". Korra grinned, noticing he supported her, no questions asked, and then she leaned into him, murmuring in a conspiracy tone "I think I have a solution that will work out just fine for Wei... and for me".

***

"The answer is no." Beifong's answer was curt, and she went back to her paperwork.

Bolin looked exasperated and tried to elaborate "But... but... How can you say no? It's a noble cause! Love! Young Love!” Bolin looked at his brother for help. The Chief of Police was actively trying to ignore them but they needed her, if they wanted to have a chance in all this craziness. Mako sighed and tried a different angle. "Chief, I agree all this... is nonsense,” Bolin frowned “but think about your nephew. He's being forced to compete for something he doesn't even want! I can't believe you agree with that".

Lin stopped writing and held the bridge of her nose. The two brothers looked at her expectantly. "All right, I'll do it! But only because you two nosy punks won't leave me alone!" Lin looked up to them, they were smiling and Bolin was tempted to initiate a hug, but realised it wasn't a good idea. The chief dismissed both with her hand, and they complied quickly before she changed her mind.

Wei had already agreed to their plan in the phone. He would train his driving skills back in Zaofu to avoid suspicion, but once in Republic City for the race event, Korra and he would swap, leaving her compete in his place. Having Chief Beifong onboard granted they wouldn't have any issue infiltrating the race, and more importantly, she would be a perfect coach for Korra's driving lessons. Everything was going very, very well.

***

"Brake! BRAAAKEEE!!!" Metal squeaked when bent to pull the satomobile to a stop. Korra, with her knuckles almost white on the wheel, pouted. Lin grunted, and tried to compose herself. She turned to the back of the satomobile to find Mako and Bolin, all color drained out of their faces. "This is not working, kids" the Chief of Police said without emotion. "And at this point I'm not allowing her in a car, much less in the middle of a car race! She is a hazard for anyone in her way!"

Mako ignored the Avatar indignant cry and offered "Maybe if she isn't driving?" His audience turned to him, waiting for an explanation. "I know Varrick has been working on some kind of autonomous mechanism for satomobiles, he has been blabbering about it for weeks in the press. Maybe he could put one of those in Korra's satomobile, and at least she would be less... dangerous?" Korra huffed again, but again she was ignored. The date for the race was only a few days away, and it was a fact that Korra's advances driving were mostly non-existant. For an Avatar who had managed to bend four elements, it was astounding how incapable she was to manage mechanical devices.

Bolin nodded "That might work, I'll talk to Varrick later. He owes me some favors from the times we were together in the movers business, so I think I can bring him onboard." He was getting excited again, and that made Korra abandon her pouting face, but Lin just shook her head. "If that works, that would solve the fact that Korra doesn't run anyone over - which frankly, would make my life much easier - but we also need Asami to lose, and she is a really accomplished driver. And I don't think we can tamper with Asami's car, they would find out about any attempt to sabotage."

Mako nodded in agreement, "Then we need to distract her. But how?"

***

"Raava, I need your help" Korra's inner voice murmured during her meditation.

The light spirit made her presence known to the Avatar, and prompted her to make her request. "Avatar Korra... What is bothering you?..."

Korra gulped. "I need to know about a human, Asami Sato... " Korra fiddled with her hands, suddenly thinking this was not such a good idea. "I need to know her weak spots... but it's for a good cause!" Korra extended her hands, trying to justify herself. The light spirit made something similar to a sigh sound, their connection had made clear what kind of good cause was pressing the Avatar to ask for her help.

"She is a builder, but she is no bender. She needs tools..." the spirit voice was getting weaker, but before disappearing Raava imprinted an image in her mind. It was a workshop... a Future Industries workshop... and inside there was a cabinet containing a box... a toolbox marked with an anagram "A.S.". And as quickly as it came, the image disappeared from Korra's mind.

Korra woke up from her meditation. She was back in her room and Mako and Bolin were looking at her with expectation. Korra cocked her head. "I'm gonna be needing... tools?"

***

Mako didn't feel proud. He was a cop, he was supposed to catch trespassers, not become one of them. And yet here he was, holding a cloth with a wrench, a screwdriver and a hammer belonging to Asami Sato. He handed the evidence to the Avatar, embarrassed. Korra opened the package, examined its content and hugged her friend. She knew the effort he had made to break the rules for her.

The race day had arrived. Varrick had done a good job automatising the car. They had a trial the day before and it worked seamlessly. They had even managed to make a decent mark, with Chief Beifong driving remotely. Korra put on her helmet and pulled the zipper of the overalls Wei had just taken off. Together with the scarf and gloves, nobody would notice the deceit.

She hugged a last time her two friends and a very relieved Wei, and left the locker room for the starting grid. There were six other participants, but she had sneaked into their practice and she knew they weren't rivals to her - thanks to Varrick's device, that is. Korra took the seat of her satomobile, nodded towards Chief Beifong who was half hidden in a secluded box seat, and got ready to start.

Asami Sato was the last participant to reach her car. She flipped her long, raven black hair before fitting her googles, and looked back to her competition. She smiled smugly, and sat down in her seat.

All engines roared, ready to start. Ikki held a chequered flag by its pole, and upon Hiroshi Sato nod, she waved it down, with Meelo merrily floating in a small hurricane made by himself at her side.

The satomobiles sped up, wheels rotating at a burnout before shooting off. After just a few seconds, Asami Sato red roadster was clearly in advantage of all her suitors, with Korra's silver roadster following closely.

Asami sight was focused on the track, but her peripheral vision caught a glint of something shiny in that next opponent. She frowned when she recognised one of the hammers of her personal toolbox. The other driver threw it aside to the road margin. The distraction made her slow down, allowing her adversary to take the lead.

Korra was ecstatic, the plan was working! She laughed, exhilarated, until she noticed Asami's roadster was again at her level. Korra frowned, and got ready to use her second "secret weapon". She took the screwdriver, and purposedly wiggled it for the engineer to see. Asami was alternating looks to the road and to her opponent now, and Korra smiled at the heiress gaping mouth when she realized Korra had another tool of hers in her power.

Again, Korra threw the screwdriver to the road margin, allowing herself to mouth "Oops!", very much to Asami's anger. The engineer had slowed down again, but the rage towards this... this... dirty... Beifong scumbag... made her regain her focus and push to the metal. She managed to get matched again. There was absolutely no way she was going to let herself lose to some cheater.

Korra made a long face, but she still had her last ace up the sleeve. The wrench she had in her hand looked the same quality than the other tools, but much more worn away, probably a favourite for the engineer. Again she made sure Asami was looking at her, and shook it in front of the heiress eyes.

Asami couldn't believe it. "No, not Wrenchie, how do you DARE!" She was so dumbfounded she didn't realize until she saw the other car's rear plate that she had given up so much advantage. From behind, she could see how her nemesis threw her dearest tool to the side of the road. She was fueled by her fury and hit the gas as much as she could.

Korra winced. What she saw in the rear mirror was a very VERY angered Asami speeding up. Well, she would really have to make amends afterwards. She crossed her fingers and prayed that Chief Beifong floored it as much as she could. The finish line was closing, and Asami's roadster was still a little behind. "Come on... come on..." Korra was muttering to herself now, and then, all she could see was a the chequered flag waving again, and a red blur passing her after the line. She had won. Unbelievable.

"Wooohooo!!" She cheered and threw her right arm to the air, trying to maintain her cover. When the satomobile stopped, she jumped out of her seat and started to bounce up and down.

Asami Sato was making a beeline towards her. Maybe she was no firebender, but Korra could feel fire glowing from her green eyes. She was even more beautiful in person, Korra thought. "You cheater! How did you get hold of my tools! How do you d..." Asami seemed to lose her train of thought when Korra took her helmet off. The Avatar tried her best smile, and it seemed to be working.

"You are not Wei Beifong" Asami stated puzzled. And then something made click in her head. "You're the Avatar. You're the Avatar!" This outcome was not bad after all. Asami licked her lips, smiled and flipped back her hair. "But you really are a cheater, don't think I'm forgiving you so easily"

"So... I guess me winning means we're engaged now?" asked Korra with a goofy grin plastered in her face. Asami laughed and, knowing her father was approaching them, she took the Avatar's face with her hands and kissed her.

"What do you think you're doing?"

***

That wasn't Hiroshi Sato's voice. Jinora blinked twice, before recognising her surroundings, and Wan Shi Tong voice. She gasped, and closed the book she had fallen asleep upon. She smiled awkwardly and raised to her feet. Wan Shi Tong was in front of her, extending his wings to make himself more frightening. Bowing, she tried to calm herself, and appeal to the owl spirit knowledge hunger. "Honorable Wan Shi Tong, do you know how satomobiles work?"

Atalanta's myths are told, among others, in Ovid's "Metamorphoses". It's actually quite a cool character, one of the toughest chicks of the Greek Mythology :)

I'm not sure if it is a canon divergence... but dreams sometimes diverge from reality, so...

Comments, edits, suggestions... are very welcome. I hope you enjoy it!

[lovelyyyoongi]

kryptonite i.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader

genre: super!au; fluff / future angst

length: 3.0k words

warnings: mild language

summary: Sometimes, a weakness isn’t just some disadvantage or fault you might have that prevents you from accomplishing something. In fact, it could be a person who just makes you feel and act a certain way and you can’t even control yourself. When you met Kim Taehyung, you didn’t expect him to be your weakness. But when he met you, he knew you were his. You were his kryptonite.

a/n: it’s a super!au series!!! This isn’t going to be a whole series like Terminus or Sophrosyne so hopefully these won’t take forever to post heheh. i’ve been wanting to write on of these for agessss but i never got around to thinking of a plot until now! Also, i edited the picture you see below and I wanna know what you think? Should I stick to gifs or do you like the picture with the title? Hmm, please let me know!

“Y/N, you’ve got the papers handled,” your boss’ voice rose an octave higher by the end of her statement as you watched her flick her eyes up from the magazine she was reading to you, “don’t you?”

Clearing your suddenly dry throat, you sent her a pressed smile, “Of course, Miss Hwang.”

“Good,” she mused, casting her eyes back down to the magazine. When you thought your assistance was no longer needed, you turned to go, swiftly grabbing the large stack of papers at the edge of her desk.

“What do you see, Y/N?” Her voice caused you to jump and you turned your attention back to her. Noticing her holding up a magazine, In a Flash, you squinted your eyes, peering at the front page. 

“The Blue Bandit robbing another bank.” Your reply was blunt, but your eyebrows creased in concern at the mention of the thief. 

“Mhm, that darn Blue Bandit,” Miss Hwang tutted to herself, shaking her head. “I know we’re not a magazine of bad news but don’t you see how well this news is doing?”

Frowning, you looked around, wondering why on Earth she’d be asking you, an intern, about such a thing as publications. 

“Uh––”

“Of course I understand it,” Miss Hwang waved a manicured hand nonchalantly before licking her index finger and turning the page. “It seems what the people want are super stories.”

“Well, it does bring a certain excitement to society,” you tilted your head to the side, tightening your grip around the stack of papers which began to grow heavy.

It was true. Since as long as you could remember, you’ve heard stories of the men and women with inexplicable powers who saved the world everyday. You used to believe they were just stories made by people and a big budget––just some people wearing costumes connected to wires behind a green screen.

But now? Everyday there was some sort of bad happening in your city which ended with some person flying out of nowhere to kick the crap out of the culprit. You’ve seen the explosions. You’ve witnessed a super flying over your city to fix it.

It was all over the news. 

Magazines were made solely for the purpose of spreading Super News! as it was called. T.V. shows were made to tribute these heroes and yet, what was one thing you could never understand was how society didn’t know who these people were behind their masks by now.

I mean, come on. You’re interviewing some dude who can spit fire, literally, and you never once try to pry off his mask?

Maybe I’m just too curious, you thought. 

“Hm, I suppose you’re right,” she looked up and gazed at you with squinted eyes. “Do me a favor and call in Seokjin into my office. Let’s hope he’s found anything worth reporting that’ll bring this decline to an end.”

“Yes ma’am,” you looked down and scurried out of her office.

Plopping yourself at your desk, you placed the stack of papers in front of you and released a long sigh. 

“You were in there for a while.”

Rolling your eyes toward your best friend and colleague, you snickered. “She’s going crazy,” you revealed, turning your swivel chair so you were facing his desk. 

“She’s been going crazy. This isn’t news,” Yoongi retorted, pursing his lips together with raised eyebrows. 

“I feel kind of bad, you know?” You frowned, looking toward the glass doors you had just exited out of. “Mr. Choi is practically killing her with his good sales.”

“We just need to find a good superhero and have one of our guys stalk him,” Yoongi shrugged, turning in his seat and began to click away on his desktop.

“Shoot, that reminds me,” you stood up and walked across the office. 

“Ah, Y/N,” Jin greeted with a playful smile, “What can I do for you?”

“Miss Hwang wants to see you.”

Groaning in frustration, he stood up and muttered, “If she makes me walk the streets and look around for any suspicious looking people who could be a potential super, I sweat to on all that is green...”

“Sorry buddy,” you frowned, patting his shoulder assuringly. 

He left his desk and walked past you without another word and you turned to go before a voice rang out, “You busy today?”

Turning your head, you raised an eyebrow toward Namjoon, another coworker of yours. He was in the editing department. While Jin went out and got the inside scoop, Namjoon would edit Jin’s findings before they made it into the magazine. 

“Not really. Miss Hwang mentioned a new intern coming in today so I’ll have to show him around,” you sighed with a tired smile.

“Him?” Namjoon pressed, looking at you suspiciously.

“Don’t get jealous now, you big baby. He’s probably young.”

“You’re young, Y/N,” Namjoon reminded, pouting. 

Sending him a pointed expression, you deadpanned, “You know what I mean.”

“Alright, alright. Go have fun with the new intern,” he shooed you away, playfully, “But we’re still on for dinner tonight, right?”

Walking around the desk, you pecked his cheek softly and smiled, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t just another coworker of yours.

Smiling satisfied, Namjoon nodded and gestured toward your desk at the far end of the room. “Wouldn’t want Hwang on your ass today so you should handle that mountain of paperwork she gave you to do.”

“Aw, my hero,” you rolled your eyes sarcastically, “saving me from the pure wrath of our boss.”

“Hey, thank me when she isn’t making you go on a third coffee run this morning––”

“Y/N! I need a caramel macchiato, venti, skim, extra shot, extra-hot, and extra-whip!” 

Looking away sheepishly, Namjoon mumbled, “Spoke too soon.”

“Now I’m off on a coffee run,” you sighed, leaning your head back to stare at the ceiling. “How many coffee runs do you think I’ll go on ‘till I get promoted?”

You didn’t wait for Namjoon to answer. Turning your body away from him, you hunched your shoulders and grabbed your purse from your desk.

Walking into the coffee shop, the strong scent of freshly bakes pastries and, of course, coffee engulfed your senses. Approaching the barista at the cash register, you sent a polite smile. “Miss Hwangs usual please?”

Nodding her head, as if having the order memorized, she wrote down a name on the cup and handed it off to another barista before pressing a few keys onto the register. “$4.56.”

You handed her the five dollar bill and something caught your attention in the top corner of your eye. In the corner of the store, above the breakfast bar seating was a small t.v. with a news program playing. You were used to the usual heroics of the well known supers residing in your city but this super, no, he was new. 

“Do you know who that is?” You asked, pointing to the t.v. where a man was seen pulling a bus from hanging off of a bridge.

Looking up to catch a glimpse at the t.v., the barista shook her head. “Nah, this is a rerun from what happened last night down by the Greenlight Bridge. Apparently some guy tried to knock a tour bus off of it but this dude, whoever he is, saved them.”

“Huh,” you nodded, pouting in approval. With the rising crime rate in your cty, you were grateful another super was helping out. “Hopefully we see more of him.”

“Yeah, our city could use as many superheroes as we can get,” the barista agreed, handing you a brown paper bag. “Here’s your change, Miss.”

After thanking her, you headed back out and walked back into the office building just a few blocks away from the coffee shop.

“Y/N!” A voice shouted when you walked into the lobby, and what followed was the sound of footsteps hurdling toward you.

“Don’t knock me over, I have coffee!” You warned, closing your eyes, expecting what was to come. 

“I learned my lesson before,” Hoseok smiled with a raised brow, stopping in front of you.

“What’re you doing here? Aren’t you on super watch taking pictures?” You referred to the Canon camera hanging off his neck.

“Well, I was, but then I got nothing so I sent Jimin to finish the job for me,” he shrugged.

Tutting disapprovingly, you scolded, “Sending a younger boy to do your work? Bad Hobi.”

“Hey, he’s my apprentice. He’s the one who wants to be a big shot magazine photographer so this is a minor job I’m giving him to test his skills.”

“Fair enough,” you nodded at his excuse to get out of work.

“You?” Hoseok eyed the bag and smirked. “Coffee run?”

“Oh, shut up,” you scowled, moving the bag so it was out of sight. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Hwang needs her coffee.”

“Mhm, I bet she does,” Hoseok agreed with a pressed smile. He was never good at hiding how amused he was. He just loved to rub in your face how you were still doing coffee runs. Especially after you’d told him on your first day that within a few months you’d be promoted and working right alongside Miss Hwang.

Well, you were nearly six months in and...nada. You’re still getting coffee.

Stepping into the elevator and clicking the button for the top floor, you straightened your posture and took a deep breath. Walking into Miss Hwang’s office, you took the coffee out of the bag and gave it to her to test. Crumpling the bag into a ball, you tossed it into the recycling bin in front of her desk.

“Oh, thank you, Y/N dear,” Miss Hwang took a long sip of her drink and smacked her lips a few times, making sure the order was right. Nodding her head to herself in satisfaction, she set the coffee down beside her and gestured to the young looking man standing near her desk. 

“Y/N, I’d like you to meet Mr. Kim Taehyung. He’s the new intern I told you about.”

“Oh!” You smiled politely, shuffling over to him and extending your hand out for him to shake. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” he took your hand and shook it with a light squeeze.

“I expect you to give him a thorough tour of the office and make sure he knows all the rules by lunch. Yes?”

“Yes, ma’am,” you nodded with a confident smile.

“Okay, now shoo. I have heaps of work to do,” she looked back down at her desktop computer, waving you off with her hand. 

“Yeesh,” Taehyung mumbled once you two had exited the office, “Is she always like that?”

“Yes,” you replied, curtly, “but you’ll get used to it. She’s really not that bad.”

“That’s reassuring,” Taehyung admitted, looking back at Miss Hwang’s office for a split second.

“Here’s your desk,” you pointed toward the empty desk beside Yoongi’s and you smacked his head when he didn’t even bother to acknowledge the new intern. 

“Ow, what was that for?” Yoongi groaned, rubbing the spot where you hit him. 

“This is the new intern and I expect you to be friendly and not scare him off like you did the last––”

“Woah, woah,” Yoongi interjected, holding his hand up to stop you, “I did not scare him off. Sure, I might’ve intimidated him but it’s business!”

“He was quivering in fear when you were in the same room as him,” you stated flatly and brought up a warning finger. “And that better not happen to Taehyung or else.”

“Don’t worry about me, Y/N. I’m not usually scared by most things,” Taehyung cut into your conversation with a grin.

“You say that now,” you raised an eyebrow, eyeing Yoongi with a glare, “but wait ‘till you’ll have to sit next to him everyday.”

“Now, you’re just ruining first impressions, Y/N,” Yoongi scolded, placing a hand on his heart as he feigned being hurt. “Not cool.”

“Sorry about him,” you apologized, standing in front of Yoongi so he was no longer in the view of Taehyung. “He’s great, too, don’t worry. A lot of working here is getting used to the environment. Now, if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you the break room.”

Taehyung trailed behind you, looking around the halls of the well maintained building. “Have you lived here your whole life?” Taehyung asked breaking the silence between you two as you walked.

“Psh,” you scoffed, slowing your pace so you were walking beside him, “I grew up in a small town a few hours away from here. All I wanted to do was to move to the city and work in a tall building like I am. So after college, I packed my bags and left.”

“You’re brave,” Taehyung mumbled, smiling at how headstrong you seemed.

“My parents hated the idea, so of course, I had to prove them wrong,” you added with a chuckle. “What about you? You from the big city?”

“Me? Oh, no. I was raised on a farm far away from here. I didn’t come until recently when I thought about making a difference.”

“Hey, at least you have a moral reason to be here. I came here for my own selfish reasons,” you shrugged.

“Selfish? I don’t think leaving a place you weren’t happy in is being selfish. I find it admirable you’d pick up your things and leave.”

Stopping in your tracks, you blinked at the man beside you. Admirable? I’m...admirable? 

“Sorry, was that too mushy?” Taehyung rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, shutting his eyes in embarrassment.

“No, no! It’s just...no one’s ever said that to me before,” you said, lowly, fighting the grin fighting to spread on your face. 

“I find that extremely hard to believe,” Taehyung smiled, coyly, at you. 

Was he flirting with you?

And if so...why was it affecting you so much?

Clearing your throat, you averted your gaze to the light blue door you stopped in front of. “Here’s the break room. Usually people come in here to talk crap about Miss Hwang...Don’t hang out with those people. She has ears everywhere,” you warned, staring at Taehyung with utter seriousness.

Taehyung coughed and nodded, “Got it.”

“Now, let me show you the printing room.”

-

“So, you think you got everything?” You asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, watching Taehyung walk toward his desk. 

“Like I said the four other times you’ve asked, yes, Y/N, I got everything,” Taehyung reassured, offering a thumbs up and convincing grin.

“Okay, well,” you sighed, patted your hands onto your skirt, “if you have any questions, just ask.”

“I do have one,” Taehyung piped, looking away bashfully. At this, Yoongi slyly looked up from his computer and looked between the two of you, curiously.

“Mhm?”

“I just moved here and I’ve only been to one restaurant before and it’s a pretty damn good one. So, I was wondering if you’d be willing to go to dinner with me...as colleagues, of course.”

Smiling at his offer, you were about to nod your head when you remembered your plans. Smacking your forehead, you sighed, “Gosh, Taehyung, I’d love to but I have plans with Joon tonight.”

“Joon?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

“Her boyfriend,” Yoongi answered, flatly. It wasn’t that Yoongi didn’t like Namjoon. Being your best friend, he tried to but he always felt you could do better. But then, you’d immediately shush him and assure that no one was better than Namjoon and you were happy. Finally Yoongi let go, accepting the fact that you were with a guy that made you happy.

“Oh,” Taehyung’s voice formed an ‘o’ shape and he nodded slowly. Cracking a smile, he offered, “Another time?”

“Of course,” you grinned, relieved that he didn’t pry into your love life by asking questions.

The three of you sat in your shared area of desks, occasionally talking about yourselves in attempt to get Yoongi to warm up to Taehyung. 

And man, was it working. That boy was so charming, you could notice Yoongi engaging in more conversations than he’s ever engaged in before aside from the ones you’ve shared. 

“It’s getting pretty late, Yoongs,” you gestured out the windows, revealing the night sky above the flickering lights of buildings across from yours, “You sure you’re staying? You’re going to be so tired tomorrow.”

“I’m always tired,” Yoongi stated, not bothering to look up at you. “Besides, Taehyung offered to stick around and get my coffee when I need it.”

Raising your eyebrows in surprise, you turned toward Taehyung for confirmation and he nodded his head with a pleased smile. “It’s the least I could do since you two have been such a great help today.”

Man, this guy was perfect.

“Uh, okay,” you stammered, unsure of how you felt about Yoongi’s unusual welcoming behavior. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Mhm,” Yoongi hummed, making a kissing noise and blowing air out of his mouth, still not bothering to turn to you. Even this boy’s flying kisses were lazy, you thought with an eye roll.

“Bye, Y/N,” Taehyung waved before hovering over Yoongi’s shoulder, watching closely at what Yoongi was writing. 

You stepped out of the office and shivered instinctively as a cold gust of wind blew past you. Checking your watch, you debated on taking a cab to the restaurant or simply walking. 

Determining that it wasn’t that cold and you still had enough time to go and not be late, you decided to walk. Only, what you didn’t know was the eventual danger coming your way.

[matchfindermatrimonyindia]

Union - the 2nd Time Around

My buddy sent me a wonderful image of him along with also his girl friend at an official dinner over a latest railroad they'd shot. I instantly text and said,"hello, did you have married, so that is clearly a significant film?" He reacted immediately saying his very first spouse had awakened up him so awful he was not likely to produce that error . Twenty and years of union and 3 children later on, he'd become sour and tempered with his own marriage. Wow, the number of times I've heard such a response in men that are currently"gun-shy" because of having an unsuccessful first union.

 Only a concise desktop, due to the fact I am obviously an alternative state of mind. I feel that God as our Creator, developed us relationships. So exceptional because we all have been, like Noah's Ark,'' he's trained us to become paired together with all our partner. He says in the Bible book of Genesis,"that it isn't fantastic for man to be lonely " Well this really does not mean, either shacking upward or alive with them. This indicates people as adult males want life spouses - wives. I did not wed before my thirty's and suffered a very disappointing and challenging union for just fifteen decades ago If that union ended in divorce,'' I chose to focus . Acknowledging it required the 2 folks wreck this item, '' I could not put all of the blame in her own feet. Therefore, I lasted using counseling, covering places in my personal own life which could make me a excellent candidate to get the second spouse. Yes, even I always understood there are no upcoming Mrs. within my own life. I started to get ready yourself by asking issues I would desire adequate replies to. I retained my heart available and open, perhaps not becoming scrutinized or sour based in the neglected practical experience. After all, dang, everybody cares in a certain location or the other. Jordan has overlooked a game tying or winning jump shooter. The optimal/optimally quarterback in soccer yells in complete in your event. I am no more fighter wins each and every struggle . Thus, a divorce wasn't the ending of the world like I recognized it. This had been a chance to choose what I've observed and heard and also make my second and past union the maximum thing . Therefore when my cousin exclaims he could be"gun-shy" that I am aware there are areas within my entire own life along with also his girl friend's life they aren't inclined to handle to create this trip farther down the aisle. Way of thinking, in everything you're confronting is massive. It can pick lose or win. In this phase of the game known as existence, '' I really don't have to miss. Make an agenda, abide by it, then implement it and also take pleasure in the spoils of triumph Indian matrimony .

 But, you will find a number of severe things to think about whenever you're determining to wed the next time approximately. The Following are Just Two or Three Essential Details:

 Inch. Is there any minor kids concerned? Inside my circumstance I had just two kiddies. One-over age of 18 and outside, but the moment a teen aged boy that chose to reside together with me whole moment. Thus, when studying the long run Mrs., imagine when she gets kiddies? Just how many kiddies? Exactly what will be those ages? Can we enjoy every other kiddies? Imagine should the youngsters do not enjoy me or her? WOW!

 2. Where your home is or might really like to reside Are you currently flexible in proceeding or moving? I've got a companion who's remodeled his home and also appreciates the relaxation of this and can't view himself living somewhere else. His girl friend resides about 1.5 hrs off, comes with a gorgeous household and can't imagine living out there. He explained personally,"I am not leaving my home plus that I convinced is not leaving hers, therefore we have been kinda trapped " Yes, even I'd say . Do you believe that this?

 3. The degree of engagement in one's prior wife or husband - In certain regions, that really is named,"Baby Momma Drama." Much decide Judy has chased this term one or two times on her television series, soliciting laughs by the crowd mainly because she regularly times would be that the epitome of the"square" as it regards by using such a lingo. Nevertheless, will the prior spouse B-ring or make"created for television play?" No additional potential wife will need to handle that kind of behaviour to become using a person. Effectively, no actual fantastic second and past wife . As my daughter regularly claims,"ai not everyone got enough time for it know more! "

 4. Finances - Tremendous, as the divorce are you regained financially at which you aren't going to have an encumbrance over the following Mrs.? In case that has been an subject of concern, why have these are as given that been tackled satisfactorily? Just take a close look in finances, the next time round you are interested in being on business floor. Perhaps not attempting to re build out of scratch. But in the event that you're in scratch, then be certain that you convey it to another location Mrs., do not attempt in order to avert, hide or directly up lie in your fiscal circumstance. It might subsequently come to be a"deal-breaker."

 The above mentioned listed aspects of fear may break or make up a union independently, aside from some of these combined jointly. Since you regard union the 2nd time round, contemplate those regions of significant maintenance as well as consideration. After I badly contemplated quitting another Mrs., we carried each of the difficulties and spoke them through over and repeatedly. Until finally we attained substantial arrangement in not exactly 95 percent of the regions that involved us those are as we believed compelled our previous unions to crumble. As we switched this corner, then I hurried off into this courthouse and also found I had wed my best good friend. Discussing most of the regions of worry (our flaws ) subjected us into a another to this sort of amounts we had not experienced previously. Aside from my advisor and yet one truly dear and close buddy, my upcoming wife realized more concerning my defects and fractures compared to anybody else on Earth. From the moment we married, she understood me far better than that I realized myself and that there is not anything that I had been unsure or fearful to talk together with her. We eventually became exposed to another. Trusting eachother having matters that we mightn't dare talk with anybody. I had been risk-free, '' she had been safe and sound. FinallyI really could expect her with my own heart. This delicate and sensitive and painful item we all struggle so difficult to safeguard, shield and shield. I can trust , she can expect in me. Practically nothing left to express"I Would."

 https://www.google.com/maps/place/Matchfinder.in+Marriage+Bureau/@17.4849423,78.3833408,14z/data=!4m5!3m4!1s0x0:0x2f09219b0261c7c9!8m2!3d17.484445!4d78.3807471

[pkmntrainergreyze]

The Emo School (Chapter 1)

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Chapter 1: An Emo Box of Misery with Pastel Pink Ecstasy

I used to think anyone doing anything weird was weird. Now I know that it is the people that call others weird that are weird.

-Paul McCartney

09/12/01

Finishing up my plate, well, I couldn’t lie about a few scraps of mixed vegetables on it, the boys decided it’ll be fun to move out of the uncomfortable chairs. I couldn’t escape or not recoil from Ryan’s glares. I know what’s up with him, and the dirty look he’s giving is giving me the creeps. He makes me shiver down my spine and I swear one glare from this long legged man makes me want to stop everything I do- heck, if he was some soldier I’d be doing push-ups right now. (oh hallelujah he isn’t)

“Geez, I just couldn’t finish eating carrots right now Ryro. Is that so big of a problem?” He scoffed before lending me his hoodie. As weird as it sounds I need his dang cologne, it smells pretty darn good, but as much as possible I wouldn’t smell the hoodie in front of him and would rather wear it since it’s d*mn cold for me recently. He seemed to crunch the paper bag once he stared at the floor, as if some cockroach crawled nearby under the shade of the table.

Wait, is there?

“…Ryan, is there-”

“Yes, you spilt my milk in my f*cking man purse B-den”

Oh crap

“Congratulations”

He gave me the Tyrone tone of voice. The same blank yet forcefully enthusiastic voice you hear from the man that often wears a business outfit and a tie.

Where’s the escape Trainer button when you need it?

His face… I couldn’t see it under his brushed locks of hair. I’m not sure whether to look or not to look, either way it’ll probably just result to a really bad, salty ending. Sounds like something you see on Walmart eh? Bittersweet I guess? I am not so sure.

Oh F- the bell rang. It’s really torturous to hear it every single day of the week, especially the inescapable Mondays we have here at school, technically, everybody’s school.

Dallon grabbed his bag and left quickly, even faster than Spencer was when he ran over a advert pole drunk, remind to tell you that story sometime, just not today. Dallon’s a pretty straight guy, he’s like this dad who would be so overprotective of his children- or his students in the real world perspective, but when you think of the other side of that trait, he’s making fucking Dad jokes that my own Dad wouldn’t say. My Dad probably has a better sense of humor than Dallon- Dadlon, whatever.

And honestly speaking, he’s probably trying to avoid making any conversation with us, since we’re kind of talking sweet sweet cocaine.

Ahh yes, I’m about to walk back to the same tracks juniors walk to. I’ll probably receive about ten hearty smiles on my way there. Bet you ten bucks.

Alright, I finally forced my feet to walk and leave the table. Reaching for the end of the cafeteria…

Mrs Jackson smiled. One- wait, that doesn’t count as a junior? She looks nasty tho? Fine, stop judging my poor taste alright?

Passing by Ms Fletcher- okay, one. Her small smile is cleary not that visible. She’s the same child writing poems and speech-y crap for the principal to get quote on quote “extra credit” when in reality she’s serving weeks of detention, constant, but hey, she plays the best d*mn pranks in this school, okay, maybe third bestest.

I still played the “Place-posters-with-Pete’s-phone-number-with-the-tag-’call single males now!’” Prank

Walking around Spencer… Taking a glanc- two.

Oh, I forgot…. Whatever, Spencer looks like a kindergarten anyways so either way no points for me.

Spencer waltzed back to 9AM1 aww.

With how much students doesn’t rush to class after the bell rings, it wouldn’t let me reach that sweet sweet bar of full-on-smiles. Fine, future students, I owe you all ten bucks… only if you’re admit to our holy sacred school though.

Ha! I sound like Principal Wentz.

Profit-oriented mindset over one hundred babe.

I just entered the horrifying classroom of 8AM3. Welcome back to the real world my friends. As soon as I pretty much had my presence in the room students came to class. I heard a lot of talk ‘bout me being the coolest, chillest, most laid-back teacher here in the Junior buildings so I guess I have no competition or complaints.

I can already see the small group of students which I have known to be quite shy. They have my music class after Patrick’s theory crap that I don’t really pay that much attention to.

Mr Flowers just nodded along the conversation he’s having while Mr Bowie kept talking about this junior that idolizes him despite walking down outside the halls of my class. They sure have forgotten that I’m not closing the Godd*mn door before the class have their attendance.

My habitual scoff just came by so casually that students think of it as some form of comic relief. I don’t really know how to explain to these lil demons that it’s an attitude problem.

To think that Patrick’s just on my class, 8AM3, right now, teaching them how Do and Re sounds good together makes me feel better on how I’m actually giving the world- 9AM1 rather, a favor for consuming their time studying with my existence. That’s a joke, Patrick’s probably having fun right now.

Well, it looks like it’s about time.

I looked out the window in the similar fashion the students did as well.

Tick tock tick tock.

“What time is it?” Oh god, that voice crack though. I can hear the punks in this class snickering at it.

“Just struck nine” There goes my sunshine haired buddy cham pal.

“Is the cat at home?”

“He’s about to dine”

It’s Josh, this happened yesterday as well, and the day before. He’s teaching that “cat and mouse” game with the students; this time it’s 8AM2, not 8AM1.

Did I already explained to you why I call classes by numbers?

Well, because the real names sucks. No kidding, it’s so overused.

Who would name their classroom “Grade Eight Morning Glory?”, seriously? I want my class to be “Grade Eight Mary Jane”

Has that kind of ring to it, amiright?

Up until now I wonder why on earth Patrick and Frank likes their class names. I mean- those names are decades old. “Grade Ten Patience” seems plain, don’t tell Frank that.

“Sir do we have an assessment today?” Molly asked from the back with her hand stretched higher than Tyler’s current mood. I nodded as they all groaned. Laughing out of- well, sadism I guess? I had the projector connected to the PC and had it on freeze.

There the students saw my desktop wallpaper of a class picture me and the 8AM3 informally had, plus Patrick, Dallon and Spencer. Spencer truthfully looked out of place in this picture, it looks like he had a date with Aubrey Hepburn. Meanwhile Dallon stood there like he’s telling everyone his birthday is today- but he doesn’t have to lie that it’s on May 4th and that he just turned seven. Patrick’s just there, signature fedora on and a small peace sign.

Let’s not forget my entire class though. We have Frank Gioia and Eva in the front with Frank’s hands on her waist as her eyeliner-ed eyes shone against the color black. The Fro power and his friend glasses just stood there with awkward check poses that seems to go back somewhere deep and hidden in the past. Melanie and Ashley just stood there with no expression, except for the other student beside them, which is Jon, who’s doing the same peace sign Patrick’s been keeping up. The rest is can be explained stereotypical-ly; the emo, the shy artist, the jock, it’s just a fun variety to look at.

“Is that cous’?” I saw him pointing at the one with a black hoodie from the corner of my eye.

“Yep, that’s definitely your cousin Adam”

“They all look happy as heck”

“Sir can we take this sort of picture later?”

Another batch of noise.

Anyways, before my brain shuts down to “teaching mode” looks like I have to get back to this thinking normally crap later. Honestly the author just got no idea how American schools work so let her skip this part dotdootdoot. (let’s just say rep-emo isn’t an American Author (badum tsk))

●———————–●

Finally; the end of the day. Organizing my stuff after drinking my cold caffeine that was left in the canteen at break, I finally had my temporary freedom I shall redeem before my world domination.

Speaking about possible world domination if either me or Patrick does it we’ll both have things planned out but procrastinate later on.

Blowing my students a playful kiss when the bell rang I waltz to the exit first, even so I can still hear their laughs and joyful cheers.

Then I saw something- rather, someone I wish I could just avoid for the week.

Christian Tyler Joseph

My feet practically swooshed and I’m pretty sure my sole—and also my soul—said “nope, not today”. I swear, I’m an atheist but I prayed at that very moment. You know that tense feeling those cliché video game main character does when he or she feels the villain’s presence or just something freaky in the ceiling happens? If you’re thinking you are imaging those overused gulp noises that’s actually real, very real.

Yeah, feeling it.

“Oy! Brendo-”

“I’ll pay my debt later Troye!” Thank God I cut him off before he diss me in front of the students.

“For the last time Fivehead it’s Tyler!”

I know. Dude, we’ve been working together for years now and yet you seem dense about it, maybe that’s just because I always act stupid, don’t let that fool you, I am stupid.

Honestly, that poor guy is so easy to tease. If it wasn’t for my distracting use of ’T’-names I would have had a small—small as Tyler could get—fight. I heard a huff from behind my back that obviously came from Tyler himself, yes, I’m stubborn.

●———————–●

A sigh sadly escaped my lips as I flipped to peak into my students’ Assessment grades.

From Ashbridge to Zoroa; all were sorts of disappointment. Even those who got perfect seems fake to me. If Ryan didn’t left me to go somewhere with Spencer he would have said the grades are as fake as diamonds that looks like broken glass.

I’m so unhappy right now. Never thought I’d use that word.

That all changed when I heard the door slid and also a student did the same but in a more humane manner.

          Enter Ashley the student.

She’s that special student who’s quite popular, inside and outside school grounds. She’s literally a celebrity. She seems to get away each time she dyes her hair unlike another student of mine that goes by the name “crybaby”.

Guess who’s her advisor?

Yeah, that’s obviously me, anyone who said “Dallon” deserves a spank… or a slap, that’s just kinky.

“Hey there Mister Urie”

“Hello to you too Ashley, what’s up?”

Unlike other schools, we’re all practically informal here; teachers and students are pretty much close buds that we don’t even have some guidance counselor, I don’t know if that is a flaw or not… I guess Meagan is a counselor, but that’s just Pete’s wife. Going back to Ashley she’s the only girl in my class—well aside from Melanie—that calls me Mister Urie all the time, but that’s probably due to respect, which is quite neat unlike some students.

“I have milk and cookies here, Melanie wanted to give this out and um… She also asked me to give you this note…”

Yeah, that’s Melanie, no one exactly trusts her, except for Tyler and Hal- I mean Ashley I guess.

“Cool, just place it one of the chairs thanks”

She nodded- before I rudely interrupted when the thought rushed back deep inside my skull.

“Wait, what’s written?”

“Umm… It says; Do you like my cookies? They’re made just for you, a little bit of sugar and… lots of poison too” She seems to hesitate on reading it and I have no doubts on why she is.

Honestly, this is one of those times I wish I could pacify her.

I couldn’t blame her actions, she’s been through a lot- like, a whole looot, as edgy as the book written by Pete when he was young (we fortunately got to read it in his office, don’t tell anyone) she has been kidnapped, rough family, drugged and other things I wouldn’t go deeper.

She’s pretty odd, but really a pretty nice person at the same time. It’s like the half dyes of her hair. She, Frank, Eva, Jon, Mikey, Ray and Richie would talk to me all day and I feel comfortable with them.

I honestly like crazy people like her. She doesn’t mind me doing crappy things and she empathize with me, it’s nice to have someone like that ya know?

Hallelujah, I have such great students and yet I’m a sh*tty teacher. I wonder what type of cookies are in there-

F*ck, that pink pastel box looks creepy as Teletub-

I need some breather.

“Hey Ashley can you pass me the coc-”

Oh wait f*ck

She doesn’t know that yet

Oh god that sounds wrong. No I’m not gay shut up… What are you talking about me and Ryan are just friends. No, not even Dallon, shut up. Denial what the- okay I’m done talking to y'all, I’ll tell you about my past with Ryan later, m'kay? Yes I’ll talk about Dallon later too but now you f*cks are just distracting me.

Anyways, she doesn’t know I do cocaine.

“Uhh… what?”

Sh*t, you guys make me sound so bad. Thinking about it, I am the only one to blame if she did knew.

Think Brendon! Think!

WHY AM I IMAGINING SCENES FROM HANGOVER RIGHT NOW?! IT’S STILL 2001.

“Pass me the…. baby powder from the back of the second row shelf thanks”

“Okay… what does it look like there’s a bunch of jars here Mister Urie!” Yelling a bit for me to hear, I felt a drop of sweat coming from my distracting forehead.

“Uhh…. It’s in one of those straight shoote- I mean flower designs in it”

She raised a small glass tube with some flower designs in it. She raised her eyebrow a bit like it’s already questioning me.

I mean, why would someone smoldering with appeal like me would buy flowers? I had enough with people questioning my sexuality so I’m not having that again.

“This one?” She held the love roses tube and shook it. I hope she didn’t suspect me for anything if so then I hope that I ain’t kissing Pete’s *ss for this. Thank past me for buying filtered one and not the transparent, but that’s too early for me to say so.

“Yeah, bring it here. Thanks” She threw it to me and I caught it, fortunately.

“Why would you have it in a flower case?”

Haha…

“I have no containers left, is all”

She nodded once more “I’m pretty sure Principal Wentz would allow ya to use one of the containers in the science room, I mean you’re close to Mister Iero as well right?”

Haha… riiight. I’m pretty sure Mister Wentz or Iero wouldn’t

“Yeah, thanks for the idea and the cookies, tell Melanie the same”

“Yeah, you’re welcome Mister Urie”

●———————–●

“BRENDON!”

That’s Dallon, once more in all his glory. He never seems to stay calm after his week of teaching in this school. His hair looks like his wife quiffed it- whatever people call that hairstyle, maybe I should say hair mess.

“What?” As you can tell, I’m tired as well so long and goodnight Dal, I need some shut eye. This is the same man who almost fell asleep while teaching the opium war, quite surprising that he can be this tense.

“YOU CAN’T DO DRUGS IF THEY CAUGHT YOU YOU’RE IN BIG TROUBLE-”

“SHH!”

Yeah! I would be if you continued yelling.

“Shut up Dallon” I closed the door behind me only to here Dallon handling the doorknob back open.

“Brendon, it’s not healthy”

What is he gonna say? Cardiac arrest? Lung problems? Yeah, I know the side effect don’t worry about it, stimulation has always been a part of me even though I try so hard to deny it. I try to stop each time though so I don’t have to hear this right now.

(Author just searched the side effects of cocaine so this may not be exact, author is not a doctor, author’s life sucks)

“Uhuh”

“No I’m serious! My friend used to do drugs as well and he-”

Oh no. I’m having this talk again am I?

Rolling my eyes back to a distant land called “Nopeland”. I could only hear incoherent sounds of a failed attempt to get me to change my decisions in life. I only found the polychromatic color that matches the walls once more when my eyes landed back to my table.

Smirk.

Grab.

Flick.

“W-cou-hat the h-heck Brendon that’s childish eew is that baby powder or powdered milk? Disgusting”

Nah, that’s coke, have fun cleaning your uniform for tomorrow morning kiddo.

And then- with just one swish and flick- I magically landed back to happy land. Maybe it’s the side effect of cocaine, may or may not be but whatever, I’d like to think that it is for the moment. It’s nice to see someone’s first encounter with coke, if I were to be Van Gogh I’d be painting this view of Dadlon trying to remove the white stains from his crotch right now.

Looks like I have something to write on my Journal huh?

Let’s be real though dear hopefully-future-students; my dairy is a lot more cooler than the Diary Of A Wimpy kid? No? Yeah you’re right, my life sucks. If this were a subject you all would have had all my assessments perfect even on your first day.

I don’t know whether you should take that as a compliment or that states you’re slowly becoming trash- well no, technically all you little eyes are my treasure so don’t go living in the dumps.

“Brendon please help me remove this stuff”

“No thanks”

“Beeeebooo”

“Not this again Dallon”

This is some sick technique in which Dallon uses the nickname “Beebo” to get me to do something. No, I’m not telling you “why Beebo?”.

Fine.

It all started when me and Patrick were teaching the seniors for a bit since Andy couldn’t come due to a winter storm at his place. We were at Patrick’s small enthusiastic explanation about a simple concept when someone boldly called me “Beebo” and it just stucked.

Groaning in the same manner the students of 9AM1 from earlier, I grabbed my handerchief and started rubbing the surface of his sweater that he probably bought last week.

“I hate you”

“Love you too Beebs, now continue helping me will you?”

Geez, I do have a lot to write down today.

Oh crap, he didn’t bought this last week; it says “Grade 10 Hibiscus” so it’s most probably hand made for him from his last advisory class. He got this last Christmas. Crap, I ruined his greatest gift. I am so sorry Dallon. Best not to tell this and the Ashley incident to anyone.

●———————–●

My eyes wondered about when I saw the box Ashley left in the corner.

That pink box…

I swear, I don’t have any idea on what to do with these cookies, they actually smell and look delicious. I guess I’ll never know huh?

“Hey Mister Urie is Richie’s detention over? He asked me to go shopping in Hot Topic today that’s why I’m asking” The next person to ever slide in after class today is Frank Gioia. The emotional kid who doesn’t seem to mind what everyone thinks, he’s a cool dude I swear.

“Oh, he’d be up by no-”

About the box….

As bright as the ideas Gerard drew in his sketchpad (which is full of strange looking people by the way, especially that all white violin girl), my eyes fluttered at the sudden thought that occured.

“Hey Frank?”

“Yeah?” He tilted his head to peak in a bit more. He doesn’t seem to be fazed at the fact I avoided answering his question.

“Want some cookies?”

Silence.

He stared at me for a bit, then back to the box I was supposedly reaching out for him to taste. His eyebrow raised at the sight of it.

“Isn’t that Melanie’s?”

Oh, he knew, that was some fail.

Lie or not to lie?

Nah, lying is pretty much fun if you’re a girl.

“Yeah, Melanie gave it to me earlier”

“Yeah saw it too”

Then another batch of awkward silence followed as we stared at each other, eyes locked with such confusion present on both sides.

“Sure… I’ll take one”

He came closer and took a bite of the chocolate chipped cookies from the forsaken box. He seems delighted somehow.

Well.

Looks like I have a new box to place my ecstasy.

●———————–●

I bumped into Ryan earlier.

He gave me this blank look before leaving me in the halls. He seemed to be carrying another paper bag; two packs of cheese whiz I presume. He didn’t seem to mind me whenever I snoop into his bags, although this time was an exception.

       ⏭️The theater in Brendon’s mind⏮️

Ryan: *looking at his paper bag*

Fab Brendon: What’s that *about to reach into the bag*

Ryan: *Slaps hand*

Ryan: Y o u  a r e  n o t  m y  f r i e n d

Exit Ryan.

���️

Trust me, give him a few more days and the two of us we’ll be okay, he wouldn’t exchange our friendship over cheese whiz….

I wonder if he thinks the same about me and Frank Sinatra, if so tell him I’d choose the latter.

●———————–●

On my way home I saw Ray and Mikey talking about Gerard and his small sketchpad they saw behind the bush in which he probably left it.

“How did it end up there in the first place?” They looked as confused as I am, Ray just raised his lips a bit higher to look like he’s pensive for an answer.

“He’s Mister Way after all, he can get like this, right Moikey?”

“Mikey Ray, It’s Mikey. Yes, he does act as irresponsible at times”

Sometimes I wonder if that face shows sadness, disappointment, anger or just plain nothing. It’s a pokerface no one could ever break, not even that time Joe played around with Frank’s chemistry set, I mean, mixing Mountain Dew and chunks of Doritos was funny and all, and Gerard’s reporting skills on that scene made the class laugh even more.

I sure do love this school’s innocent scenes.

Wait I’m going too far, back to Mikey.

“Anyways, do you know where your brother is at the moment?”

He shook his head in reply but Ray nodded it with excitement.

“Yeah he said he’s going to binge watch Star Wars in the cinema”

Mikey’s face dropped a bit before going back to normal. That action probably meant sadness… right?

“He forgot to drive me back home, whatever I’ll just walk”

“I’ll come with you don’t worry, we’re practically neighbors”

“no we’re not”

“shush”

I know that I laughed at that small conversation but I still feel the small strange vibe Mikey’s been radiating, unlike Gerard he would have punched me in the face if he was at the scene and tell me to “stay the *beep* away from my sketchpad!”

Was that beep necessary?

“Do you want me to call Gerard?”

“No, it’s okay Mister Urie”

I shrugged as he denied my random act of kindness, ouch.

“Whatever kiddos, get home safely okay?” “Yes Mister Urie” “Oh, and bring your brother’s sketchpad, he doesn’t want it in my hands”

Mikey raised an eyebrow “Don’t you wanna see what’s inside?”

I mean, it could be anything edge-shock-y so I wouldn’t dare open it.

“N-nah, rather not”

Mikey just nodded and fetched for the sketchpad in my hands.

Then I walked back home, just like they did.

God, I’m stopping drugs. Things like this are more stimulating…. and stressful

[briannasroger]

Hackers and Hijinks (ch.1)

pairing: nalu words: ~4200 rated T for language probs.  note: don’t steal if you can avoid it, kids~ also, decided to publish this on a whim. next update? idk, but I know this won’t be very long. Four chapters max.  read on ff.net. 

summary: There’s thieves and then there’s Thieves. Know the distinction because while thieves might steal your pants, Thieves will ruin your life. Lucy Heartfilia, solo hacker code-name Ashley, has no reason to ruin anyone’s life till her odd new team takes up a job a little too close. 

-- aka the leverage au no one asked for --

Her computer was a beaten up old thing that Lucy had built from scratch and when she turned it on, it gave an awful sort of roar before she tapped the tower with her toes gently. It spluttered and then calmed to a low hum as it began to boot up. She straightened up, stretching her arms as she waltzed to the fridge on the other side of her apartment. It would take a gracious minute for Crux to load up and her stomach ached for sustenance after the lackluster food of her last job. Chips and bottled soda were useful in moderation, but for three days while she tried to crack a code that was prehistoric was disgusting. She pat her stomach, grimacing, as she resolved to do a few extra sit-ups in her workout regnum -- whenever she got around to doing that, of course. It was like they expected her figure to stay this way through vigorous workouts rather than healthy eating choices.

She considered cereal, just to be lazy and rush back to her computer, but Crux was still humming, the noise similar to a snore, and it was still on the logo screen. Perfect. It left plenty of time for her to make some scrambled eggs and toast. She mouthed a song as she made her food and when it was done a few minutes later, she deposited it onto a paper plate and made her way back to her desktop.

"Good job, Crux," she said, setting her plate aside to free her hands. Old Crux wasn't useful for missions on the go; it was too heavy and complicated for travel, but most of her work from home was done on Crux. With its extensive passwords designed to give her system time to delete anything and everything if someone didn't type one of the passwords right, it was the safest place in the world for her to keep record of things without fear of someone getting a hold of it.

All prepared, Lucy munched on some of her eggs, opening a document to write on and adding some information from her last job. Nobody required her reports, but she kept careful track of everything she did, from who sent her the job (Nab) to how much she got for it (10,000 jewel) to what she had to do (hack into some CEO's computer and send along the incriminating files to his now ex-wife's new business and then erasing all of it from existence) to how long it had taken (roughly three days, most of which had been spent erasing all of it from some websites that pushed her from performing a slightly illegal act to an entirely illegal act).

It wasn't a fun objective, but the jewel was worth it, especially since her rent was coming up soon. Very soon, she thought with a grimace, her eyes falling to the calendar where one week from today was circled in green ink. She didn't have quite enough and she didn't know if there was anything else for her to do in that short amount of time. Hacking wasn't as easy as it looked on television -- it required dedication, patience,

Lucy tapped her nails on the desk, shoveling a bite of eggs into her mouth, doing a mental tally of how much she had received in the last few weeks. Definitely, definitely -- one of her jobs had paid her quite a bit to hack to disable a security system long enough for one of their hand-selected thieves to steal a priceless harp and run for it. Lucy pumped the air, relieved, and whirled around in her seat to face Plue, a medium sized, white haired dog that eyed her with something like amusement. "Ugh, can you imagine if I hadn't done that job? I was worried about working with someone, but without it, I would be about 10,000 jewel short!"

Plue barked and then growled.

She frowned, turning in her seat to face him. "No, she didn't, I think I would remember that, Plue!"

He growled again.

"Definitely not, she wouldn't- OH NO, SHE DID!" Lucy eyes had landed on the computer screen, where her meticulous notes told her plain as day where a 35,000-jewel job was dropped down to 15,000. In the notes along the side, she could read the simple IDIOT in green text in a tab labeled notes. Lucy dropped her forehead onto the table, narrowly avoiding a collision course with her plate of eggs and wailed. "She only paid me half!"

Plue wagged his tail.

Lucy shot him a look. "Don't look so smug. If I get kicked out, so do you."

He whined.

"That's what I thought. C'mon, buddy, we're going for a walk and we need to move fast."

...

If there was one thing that Lucy hated about her lifestyle -- other than the fact that it was entirely unethical -- was how little she could predict the shortcomings for it. Nobody told her the day she ran away from her father would end up with her put those long hours spent learning the craft under a hand-selected tutor's eyes to good use, but not by creating top of the line security in a constantly changing market. No, she was using every skill and bit of knowledge to worm her way through each of those security measures her father loved. It was a fun job usually, her own pickiness kept her from straying too far down the wrong moral spectrum, but the money was few and far between no matter what she did.

It, perhaps, didn't help that her job had very specific requirements. She was a hacker, damn it, not the person who handled fighting people like a beater and not adept at adopting personas like a grifter and she couldn't pull off the dedication of a thief. Even in this technological age, most jobs required something of the other three and Lucy didn't really want to learn how to do any of them. Well, not to the same extent as others who fine-tuned the craft as well as she did hacking.

Sometimes she wondered if the lifestyle change from heiress to Thief (capital T because it wasn't the same thing as thief), but then she imagined her father fuming in his large, loveless manor as he tried to keep her betrothed in the dark and the hassle was worth the freedom.

"Come on, Plue, we're almost there," she said, trying to sound cheerful for both their sake's as she led him down a dimly lit street at midnight.

The cobbled road was worn and cracked, making her stumble often in her haste, but she didn’t notice as she picked her up again, eyes focused on an ugly, green-bricked building across the street. A rickety sign of florescent red hung from proclaimed it to be the tavern Twilight Ogre. It was a sign of her desperation that she made a beeline for the door, grimacing at the custom ogre head they had for a handle. She shoved it open, the creak of the doors like a gunshot, but nobody heard over the blaring sound of some sport playing on a television in the corner. The tavern was at full capacity for a Wednesday night, but all the better for her, that would mean her target was nearby. The woman only ever came in when the place was busy.

Her eyes narrowed, fingers fisting around Plue’s leash when he strained, lips curling up in a snarl at another patron’s barking dog. A dog easily twice his size; no doubt it would be taller than her on its hindlegs. If she hadn’t been terrified at the idea of wandering down a dark street with only mace and some rudimentary self-defense skills, she wouldn’t have even brought him. The other dogs would eat Plue in a heartbeat. She pulled him away, heading for a slightly less busy corner of the tavern and crouched to rub his head, murmuring soothing words till his growls dropped to a whine.

“I know, buddy, but we’re desperate,” she said, giggling when he licked her face. She shoved him away after a final pat and straightened. She scanned the crowd, passing over the woman in the corner till the sequin on her blue bikini flashed under the lights very briefly. It was just enough to draw Lucy’s attention back to her and grin. The woman smiled back, tightening a jacket over her top once more as Lucy stepped around a few people to reach her.

“People are going to ask questions if you keep showing up here,” the woman said, nursing a glass of booze. She was average height with wavy brown hair and dark eyes. Though the smile on her face was a picture of innocence, the tilt of her head suggested thoughtfulness. Like an animal examining a new threat. “I thought you didn’t want part of this mess?”

“I don’t. Whatever you and your team are trying to do with this place is up to you, I already gave you the files,” Lucy replied exasperated. “I’m not here as competition, Cana”

Cana’s face lit up. “Well, you never know these days, I heard just the other day that the Thunder Legion cut ties with the rest of their team.” Lucy bit her tongue, trying not to get drawn into the gossip. Then, satisfied that Lucy wouldn’t be stepping in on the current job, Cana leaned forward to say, “Even heard that Phantom Lord is heading this way.”

Unable to resist, Lucy dropped into the booth beside her. Plue’s leash was loose in her hand and any other time, she would worry, but he settled himself on her feet protectively beneath the table and stared out. “No way?” She asked, gaping. “They haven’t been seen this far north since-- “

“Since that whole issue with their element team getting their asses handed to them,” Cana said, smug. Her plans were the ones that lead them to it and Lucy didn’t bother piping in about her own contribution. There were some secrets that she would take to the grave and her ties with Phantom Lord was one of them. “They must have finished licking their wounds and are looking for new territory in Bosco.”

“Or maybe a job?”

“Nah, there’s too many people out here with game already and most of us know what they can do, nobody is stupid enough to call for them. Maybe desperate, but I haven’t heard anything like that, they would have gone snooping around somewhere for me to hear,” she said, tapping the table thoughtfully. “Bosco seems like the best bet, they lost too many good players to try again and nobody is going to trust a leader that loses his entire crew.”

“True,” Lucy agreed. Then she shook her head. “I’m not here to gossip!”

“Figured, you would have been more interested in the first bit. What are you here for?”

Lucy bit her lip. It was one thing to have the epiphany in her apartment among the comfort of her home and the desperation to keep things the way they were, but in the bar, confronting her, felt a little like Lucy was selling her soul to the devil. But then it would surely be a death sentence to end up on the streets now when her father’s nose poked out of every other sanctuary. Mind made up, she settled her hands in her lap beneath the table to hide the nervous fidgeting. “I… need a job.”

Cana grimaced, lowering her drink to the table. “I don’t have any for you right now, I’d have to take a look. And I can’t ditch this job for another day or two at the soonest, maybe a week at the most.” Lucy didn’t believe in teams, but contacts were a different story. The only way to make it anywhere in the world – whether that be the vapid politics of her father’s world or the morally questionably portion of Lucy’s – was to know people.

Lucy and Cana’s friendship extended to any last-minute hacking that Cana needed at the drop of a hat and Cana passing along jobs that her own team wasn’t doing or planning to do. They were both runaways, she figured that was why they got along so well, even Cana didn’t necessarily know about the similar stories between them.

“Next week would be too late. My rent is due soon and I’d still need time to do the actual job,” Lucy whined. “You don’t have anything?”

For a moment, Cana’s face was hard and unrelenting, but then a shadow passed over her face and she grimaced, ducking her head down. “I do, but you’re not going to like it.”

Lucy slumped. “I’m desperate, but I’m still not going to become a murderer.”

“What? No! We’re Thieves, not death dealers and I wouldn’t recommend a job that bad,” Cana said, aghast. “I meant that I have a team in need of a hacker since their last one ran for it again -- and you’d be perfect for this job.”

Again? How many hackers did this team lose on a daily basis? Wait…  

“A team?” Lucy’s brow furrowed. The last one she worked on was the whole reason she was stuck here, groveling for help, and she certainly didn’t want a repeat of that mess. …you’re not going to like it. She froze, eyes widening. “Oh, no, please don’t tell me it isn’t— “

“Yup.”

How desperate was she?

Beneath the table, Plue whined and she groaned, knowing the answer.  “Shit. Fine. Whatever. What’s the job?”

…

Meetings were, in her opinion, one of the worst parts of the job. First impressions were crucial and a bad one could make or break a job when it came to meeting clients – no one wanted to add a hacker that looked as though a strong wind would knock them over, not unless they had the notoriety of Levy McGarden, a hacker who was as deadly as she was small.

First impressions were easy with clients, she had managed to charm enough of them for the brief moments of speaking that she didn’t worry. But a team? People she would be working with for an indefinite amount of time?

She blew a curled strand of blonde hair out of her face, waiting for the rest of her team to arrive. After leaving Cana the night before, she had hurried home to set up a go-bag and Plue for a few days with her neighbor before collapsing in an uneasy sleep, waiting for Cana to send her the meeting spot. She had thought going to sleep at 7pm had been early, but when the text came at midnight to meet them after dawn at the port south of the city, she had been grateful for the extra sleep.

Not so much for the rush job to get herself ready to meet them with a portion of her gear in tow. With first impressions on the mind, Lucy had curled her hair and dabbled in her too expensive for daily use make-up before tossing on a yellow jean skirt, a fitted green tank-top, and her favorite pair of brown boots. Cute yet casual and - the most important part - easy enough to sprint in. She didn’t think Cana would set her up, but she hadn’t made it this far by being so trusting.

When half an hour passed without anyone’s arrival, Lucy almost bolted with that exact panic in mind. She held herself in place, poise in her stance, hiding the rising anxiety when the murmur of voices echoed in her ears.

Good news: Cana wasn’t setting her up.

Bad news: Cana hadn’t been joking when she said her team was with him.

“Hey, I know you!” He said, a fanged grin on his face as he left behind a scowling dark-haired man. “Not sure where. Have you stolen from me before?”

“No.”

“Have I stolen from you?”

“In a way,” she answered honestly, crossing her arms. “And I was hoping Cana was joking when she said it was you.” Her sigh made the other man laugh.

“Cool,” he laughed. “No hard feelings?”

She didn’t reply. It wasn’t the first time she had worked with Natsu Dragneel – it wasn’t even the first time she had worked with him this month. A note labeled idiot stood out in her mind, though it was hard to attach that thought with the cheerful smile on his face.

It was her first time seeing him in person rather than through pictures. He was taller than her by quite a few inches with the muscles and build of someone who could easily be a beater and she admittedly found it hard to focus when he wore a vest instead of a shirt, exposing his toned stomach to the world. She tore her gaze away, narrowing her eyes on his hair instead. It was a bright pink, spiked away from his green eyes – it was the exact opposite look for someone who was a thief. Maybe that was why he sucked at it so much, she thought, remembering her docked pay.

She added, “It makes sense that I’m working with you since it’s your fault I’m in this mess anyway.”

Natsu blinked. “Eh?”

“We worked on the harp case together. You know, the one where you went against the plan. I’m short on rent now,” she said, rubbing her face.

“No way. That was you?”

“How do you remember me but not from where? There were pictures of the team before you signed on!”

“I didn’t look at it much, I was more focused on getting the harp,” he admitted, scratching his chin.

“As lovely as this reunion is, we should get down to business, we’re already running low on time and I’d rather figure this out before we get on the train,” cut in the other man. Lucy blinked, remembering the other two. The man who spoke was easily the tallest of the team, seeming to stare down at them with narrowed blue eyes and an icy frown on his face. As though he could think of better place to be than here. A woman wearing a bullet-proof vest and a skirt stood beside him, a cool look on her face and a cascade of scarlet hair falling down her back.

“Fine, fine,” said Natsu. “That’s Gray and that’s Erza, they’ll be working with us on this job as well.”

Lucy froze in place. The name Gray wasn’t as familiar to her, but Erza Scarlet was a legend in her own right and it took everything in Lucy’s power not to squeal at the sight of her. She settled on a dazzling smile, hoping to convey her admiration for the woman in her handshake. Erza returned it firmly, crushing her fingers, and Lucy hid a wince, wondering what she had done to offend her already.

Then Erza smiled, a bright beautiful thing that transformed her entire face. It was hard to imagine that someone who looked so kind could beat up a squad of 100 men by herself. “We’re happy to be working with you, welcome to the team,” said Erza, releasing her hand. “I’m afraid I didn’t have time to ask Cana your name?”

“Pleasure. I’m Ashley,” Lucy said, the lie falling from her lip easily. It’s easier to use her middle name than trust them with her secret. They were thieves -- wshe didn’t know the price they would need to give her up, but she knew everyone had one. She shook her fingers, trying to regain feeling. “So, what are we doing? I wasn’t really told anything about the plan other than the fact that we aren’t going to murder anyone.”

“With Erza here, that might be a little unlikely to hope,” Gray muttered to Natsu, who nodded vigorously before seeming to realize who spoke. Lucy ignored them as they began scowling at each other, focusing on Erza instead.

“I need you to dig up everything you can on a man named Jiemma,” Erza instructed, sinking down onto the bench beside her while Lucy unfolded a notepad for notes. “We don’t know much about him, not even a last name, but he’s the current guild leader for Sabertooth.”

Lucy’s pen jolted, a blob of ink streaking across the page. Sabertooth was a well-known law firm on the outside, but everyone who was anyone knew it acted as a base of operation for a group of freelancers who did any number of jobs for money. Some within the bounds of the law, some not. It wasn’t unlike Fairy Tail, another group of freelancers, who specialized more in stealing back from other thieves; they were a bunch of Robin Hood’s. It was a mentality that Lucy could appreciate after escaping from her father’s uncompromising will, but a naïve one. People didn’t just join Fairy Tail, nobody even knew where they were headquartered. Hell, she didn’t even know people in Fairy Tail, she had only ever seen their calling card once.  

But Sabertooth… They were the only guild to be out in the open and it was well-known who the mastermind behind it was.

Lucy found her words. “How? I thought the leader was someone named Eucliffe.”

The smile dropped from Natsu’s face like a stone. The group shared an indescribable look, communicating silently with their eyes and Lucy glanced away from the uncomfortable team moment. She was aware, now more than ever, that they had been a team together for a while. Her contribution was last minute and in the dark. Her only job was to hack, to give them information – it didn’t matter who the mark was or why they were after them either.

“Never mind,” Lucy started, raising her notepad again to continue the debriefing, but Natsu cut across her.

“Sting’s the client, we’re here to clear his name and prove that Jiemma is a crackpot old fool before word gets out too far,” he explained slowly, adjusting a checkered scarf around his neck. Briefly, she caught glimpse of a large, faded scar that stretched from one half to the other, like a botched beheading, before it was covered once more. She forgot about it in the next second, biting back the urge to ask what Sting’s charges were, but half afraid that they would deny her the knowledge. Natsu, unnoticing or uncaring, continued, “It would be bad if people found out he wasn’t the master anymore.”

“Bad is an understatement,” Gray said, kicking at the ground, his hands shoved into his pocket. “Sabertooth takes the heat off all the other guilds, nobody is going to look any deeper than them if another calling card comes up, but if Jiemma changes the game for the worse like he is then people are going to dig more.” Lucy felt cold just listening to him speak; she wouldn’t be in any danger from Sabertooth, her work was too independent, but the worry in his words, so different than the emotionless drivel of his introduction, made her feel as though a target was growing on her back by the second.

“Which is why we need to know everything about him,” interrupted Erza, punching her hand into the bench. Lucy swallowed her yelp as the wood splintered under Erza’s attack in a shower of shards, but Erza paid no more mind to it than her companions. “The only other thing we know about him is a connection to Jose Porla.”

Lucy stilled, a blot growing on her paper beneath Jose’s name, trying hard to keep the shock from showing on her face. At this rate, her page would be less notes and more of an artistic statement.

Erza brushed the dust from her gloves. Like Natsu, she seemed oblivious to Lucy’s reaction. “Eucliffe reported that he saw them hanging around together often before his fall. They were last seen in Crocus, which is where we’re heading together on the next train. How soon can you dig up everything on Jiemma and Jose?”

Lucy cleared her throat in an attempt to appear casual and hoped that Gray, with his narrowed eyes, would fall for it as easily as his companions. “Jiemma might take a little while, he might be the master of Sabertooth, but if this is recent, then he likely won’t be in any of their official files yet. I’ll need to do an independent search from the get-go. Jose Porla though… I actually know him already,” she said, her words growing sheepish when Erza frowned. Natsu’s mouth hung open, but she couldn’t tell if he was paying attention to their conversation or not.

“How?” Gray asked skeptically.

“I’ve done a job involving him before that went south, before Cana’s team took him down,” she lied, shrugging her shoulders. Gray nodded, placated. “It’s been a while, a year or two, so I’ll double check what I know, but he was quite comfortable the last time I saw him and he isn’t the type to change his routine.” Her fingers tightened around the pen, but she forced them to relax. No need to broadcast that her last encounter with Jose Porla had been only a week before she had changed her identity from Lucy Heartfilia, heiress, to Ashley, hacker.

Natsu’s eyes were too excited for her comfort. “What do you know?”

“Too much to tell you before the train gets here. You know, it’s a good thing we’re going to Crocus already. He’s based in Oaktown, but he’ll be in Crocus for business around this time, most of his type are. Might be able to take them both down before the day is up.” And she wondered, briefly, if Cana knew a lot more about Lucy than she ever confessed. After all, who would be more perfect for a job involving Jose Porla than the girl who ruined his life?

[ethereousdelirious]

Finally got around to writing that fic for @rocketsnez <3 (Fandom: M/etalocalypse, C/harles catches a cold) Warnings: Standard M/etalocalypse stuff, also C/harles kills a guy but it’s only mentioned offhand) Hope you like it, buddy! IDK I don’t want to discount my own work but I wish I could have written this better (If nothing shows up it’s because Tumblr mobile hates read more links, so try viewing it on desktop or in your browser)

7:00 am, answer emails

Charles turned on his computer, trying his hardest to ignore that sting in his throat that kicked up every time he swallowed. The light from the monitor kicked up a throbbing in his head and made his eyes ache. Charles rubbed them behind his glasses and tried to focus. Suddenly, the font on the screen seemed too small to read. He squinted and opened up email number 1 of 147. Of course, it was about a lawsuit. Charles scanned the text, trying to determine how much bribe money it would take to hush this up. His sinuses throbbed mercilessly. Charles forced himself to ignore this and kept reading.

8:00 am, phone meeting with the head of Christian Humans Organizing Against Dethklok

The phone rang for a while before Charles answered it. It was a subtle power play, his way of letting the caller know that they were never his first priority, that Charles was gifting them some of his valuable time as a favor.

The phone rang again. Charles answered it. “Offdensen here.”

“Hello, Mr. Offdensen, this is Chareth Nightsquirt of Christian Humans Organizing Against Dethklok.”

“Thank you for calling,” Charles said flatly, frowning at how rough his voice sounded and how much it hurt to talk. He made a mental note to get some tea when he had a break. “I understand you’ve successfully petitioned for…” he checked his notes, “17 different venues across the United States to not allow Dethklok to play.”

“And counting,” Nightsquirt said smugly.

“Obviously you wouldn’t have organized this meeting if you didn’t intent to negotiate.”

“That’s right. Now, we here at CHOAD are simple, god-fearing folk, but that doesn't mean there's no way to get us to change our minds. I’m sure we can--”

“You want me to bribe you,” Charles cut him off. His head hurt so badly he could feel it in his teeth and the sound of Nightsquirt’s voice in his ear wasn’t helping matters. “That’s off the table. Good day.” He hung up without waiting for a response. Bribery worked best when he was the one making the terms. It might cost more, but it would be simpler in the long run to bribe the owners of the 17 venues CHOAD had gotten through to.

8:30 am, discuss raise with Klokateer #1349 9:00 am, have Klokateer #1349’s body disposed of

The phone call had taken less time than anticipated, so Charles made himself a cup of tea with copious amounts of honey and took some painkillers. Then he buzzed in Klokateer #1349.

#1349 paused in the doorway.

“Have a seat,” Charles said. Then he sneezed. Fuck.

“Bless you, sir.”

Charles ignored this. “I always hate to have to do this,” he said aloud, taking his favorite pistol from his top desk drawer. He really did hate this part. It was always a bitch getting bloodstains out of the rug. Still, better to handle things like this himself. “Asking for a raise means you’re questioning Dethklok’s authority, which means the brainwashing didn’t work all the way.” Without warning, he aimed and fired, killing #1349 instantaneously. The Klokateers outside the door had been waiting for this, and they came in to drag #1349’s body away.

Charles sniffed and rubbed absently at his nose, which was starting to run.

9:15 am, review Dethklok’s credit card statements

Though he’d never admit it, this was one of Charles’ favorite tasks. Working with people was an unpleasant necessity. At least numbers never tried to kill you.

At present, Charles was not enjoying himself. His sneezes were getting more frequent and starting to come in sets of two or three, which was never a good sign. The box of tissues on his desk was almost empty.

For one brief, wild moment, Charles let himself entertain the possibility of walking away from all this and going back to bed. It sounded nice, but everything had to get done in a timely manner and nobody else could be trusted to handle these tasks. Charles blew his nose and got back to work.

9:30 am, call the bank

As usual, there were numbers that didn’t add up, purchases that needed to be contested, unexplained taxes, duplicated documents and a whole host of other numerical oddities that would have had any other CFO in hysterics. Chares just shook his head and picked up the phone.

“Thank you for calling, Clearwater Bank,” a cool pleasant voice said.

“Hello, this is Ch-- You know what, never mind.” Charles hung up. Between his stuffed up nose and his scratchy throat, he sounded awful. No one in their right mind would take him seriously.

He sniffled and reached for a tissue, but the box was empty. He must have forgotten to throw it away when he was working on the receipts. Charles rubbed his temples and pulled out his to-do list. It was time to make some edits.

9:30 am, call the bank 10:30 am, answer emails 11:00, negotiate bribes Now, answer emails

Anything that involved talking to strangers was absolutely off the table. Charles pulled up his email and looked at the 78 messages in his inbox. His eyes started to water.

He sorted through the emails at about half his usual speed, struggling to focus on the words. He answered three and was forced to stop so he could muffle a string of sneezes into his sleeve.

Fuck-- No tissues.

Charles pressed a button on his phone to page a Klokateer. “Can you bring a box of tissues in here, please?” he slurred.

“What was that, sir?”

Charles cleared his throat. “Can you bring a box of tissues in here, please?”

“Right away, sir.”

There was that problem taken care of, at least. In the meantime, he could always use paper towels from the kitchenette, but his nose was already starting to feel chafed and just the thought of the rough material on his irritated skin was enough to make him wince.

“Sir.” The Klokateer was here with the tissues. Charles thanked and dismissed him and abruptly remembered he still had emails to answer.

He lapsed for a moment; doubled over and rested his face on the lacquered wood of his desk. Obviously he’d caught a cold, but it was just a cold. He needed to power through.

With an effort, Charles forced himself upright and got back to work.

12:00, lunch meeting with the boys

For the first time that day, Charles left the confines his office. He walked down to the conference room and was unpleasantly surprised to find only Nathan sitting there.

“Where are the others?”

Nathan gave him a blank look. “I dunno.”

“I asked you to tell them about the meeting.”

“Ohhhh, shit.” Nathan’s eyes widened. “Yeah, I forgot. Forgot to do that.”

“I can see that.” Charles rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to soothe the fierce ache that had spread from his sinuses to his ears. All he managed to do was provoke a sneezing fit that left his eyes watering.

“You look like shit,” Nathan said.

“Thank you.”

“No, really.”

“I know,” Charles sighed.

Nathan looked around. Satisfied that no one else was around, he allowed himself to be a little less of an asshole than usual. “Are you okay?”

“It’s just a cold.

“Oh, okay.” A moment’s silence. “You sure? Maybe you shouldn’t work so hard, you know, cancel some of your appointments.” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

Charles stared. “Oh. Yes. This meeting is definitely cancelled considering that we’re the only two who showed up. You can go.”

“Sweet.” Nathan stood and turned to leave but he hesitated in the doorway. “Seriously, though, take it easy.”

“Always do,” Charles said.

[batterymonster2021]

How to build your creative confidence | David Kelley

New Post has been published on https://hititem.kr/how-to-build-your-creative-confidence-david-kelley-3/

How to build your creative confidence | David Kelley

Translator: Timothy Covell Reviewer: Morton Bast I desired to speak to you at present about inventive self belief. I’m going to method back in the 0.33 grade at Oakdale tuition in Barberton, Ohio. I recall someday my exceptional buddy Brian was working on a assignment. He used to be making a horse out of the clay our teacher saved underneath the sink. And at one point, one of the most women that was once sitting at his desk, seeing what he used to be doing, leaned over and mentioned to him, "that’s horrible. That doesn’t look anything like a horse." And Brian’s shoulders sank. And he wadded up the clay horse and he threw it back within the bin. I not ever noticed Brian do a venture like that ever again. And i ponder how in most cases that happens, you recognize? It looks as if when I tell that story of Brian to my category, a number of them want to come up after type and inform me about their equivalent expertise, how a trainer shut them down, or how a scholar was above all cruel to them.And then some style of opt out of considering of themselves as creative at that point. And that i see that opting out that happens in childhood, and it moves in and becomes extra ingrained, even, by the time you get to adult lifestyles. So we see quite a lot of this. When now we have a workshop or when now we have consumers in to work with us side by using part, eventually we get to the point within the method that’s sort of fuzzy or unconventional. And finally, these giant-shot executives whip out their BlackBerrys and they say they must make fairly important phone calls, and they head for the exits.And they’re just so uncomfortable. When we monitor them down and ask them what’s going on, they are saying anything like, "i am simply now not the inventive form." but we know that is now not proper. If they stick with the system, in the event that they stick with it, they become doing amazing matters. And they shock themselves at simply how innovative they and their groups particularly are. So i’ve been looking at this worry of judgment that we’ve got, that you do not do things, you are afraid you’re going to be judged; if you don’t say the correct ingenious factor, you’re going to be judged.And that i had a fundamental breakthrough, when I met the psychologist Albert Bandura. I do not know if Albert Bandura, however in the event you go to Wikipedia, it says that he’s the fourth most important psychologist in history — you understand, like Freud, Skinner, someone and Bandura. (Laughter) Bandura is 86 and he nonetheless works at Stanford. And he’s only a beautiful man. So I went to look him, considering he’s simply labored on phobias for a long time, which i am very occupied with.He had developed this manner, this, type of, methodology, that ended up curing men and women in an extraordinarily brief period of time, like, in 4 hours. He had a tremendous healing rate of men and women who had phobias. And we talked about snakes — I do not know why — we pointed out snakes and worry of snakes as a phobia. And it was quite enjoyable, fairly fascinating. He instructed me that he’d invite the test discipline in, and he’d say, "you already know, there’s a snake in the next room and we’re going to go in there." To which, he mentioned, most of them answered, "Hell no! I’m no longer entering into there, most likely if there is a snake in there." but Bandura has a step-by means of-step method that used to be super victorious. So he’d take humans to this two-approach replicate watching into the room the place the snake was. And he’d get them comfy with that. Then by way of a sequence of steps, he’d move them they usually’d be standing in the doorway with the door open, and they’d be looking in there. And he’d get them at ease with that.And then many more steps later, little one steps, they’d be within the room, they’d have a leather glove like a welder’s glove on, and so they’d finally touch the snake. And after they touched the snake, the whole lot was great. They have been cured. Correctly, the whole thing used to be higher than satisfactory. These men and women who had lifelong fears of snakes have been saying things like, "look how wonderful that snake is." and so they had been holding it in their laps. Bandura calls this approach "guided mastery." i like that time period: guided mastery.And something else happened. These persons who went through the method and touched the snake ended up having much less anxiousness about different things of their lives. They tried harder, they persevered longer, they usually were more resilient within the face of failure. They only won a brand new self assurance. And Bandura calls that confidence "self-efficacy," the feel that you could alternate the world and that you could acquire what you set out to do.Well, meeting Bandura was once quite cathartic for me, given that i noticed that this noted scientist had documented and scientifically validated some thing that we have seen occur for the last 30 years: that we could take persons who had the worry that they weren’t ingenious, and we would take them by means of a sequence of steps, kind of like a sequence of small successes, and they turn worry into familiarity. And they shock themselves. That transformation is strong. We see it on the d.Tuition always. Persons from all exclusive forms of disciplines, they suppose of themselves as handiest analytical. And they are available in and they go through the procedure, our process, they construct self assurance and now they consider of themselves differently. They usually’re thoroughly emotionally serious about the truth that they walk around considering of themselves as a inventive character. So I suggestion probably the most matters i’d do today is take you via and exhibit you what this trip appears like. To me, that ride looks like Doug Dietz. Doug Dietz is a technical person.He designs giant medical imaging gear. He is worked for GE, and he is had a extremely good career. However at one factor, he had a moment of predicament. He used to be within the health facility watching at one of his MRI machines in use, when he noticed a young family, and this little woman. And that little lady was crying and was terrified. And Doug was relatively dissatisfied to study that nearly eighty percentage of the pediatric patients in this sanatorium had to be sedated in an effort to maintain his MRI desktop. And this was once really disappointing to Doug, due to the fact that earlier than this time, he was pleased with what he did. He was saving lives with this laptop. However it fairly hurt him to look the worry that this machine induced in children. About that time, he used to be on the d.Tuition at Stanford taking courses. He was once learning about our procedure, about design considering, about empathy, about iterative prototyping. And he would take this new competencies and do some thing rather distinctive. He would redesign the whole experience of being scanned. And that is what he came up with.(Laughter) He became it into an journey for the youngsters. He painted the partitions and he painted the computing device, and he received the operators retrained via people who understand children, like kid’s museum humans. And now when the child comes, it’s an experience. They usually talk to them concerning the noise and the movement of the ship. And after they come, they are saying, "adequate, you are going to enter the pirate ship, but be very nonetheless, for the reason that we do not need the pirates to find you." And the results had been super dramatic: from whatever like eighty percent of the kids desiring to be sedated, to something like 10 percentage of the youngsters desiring to be sedated.And the medical institution and GE were completely satisfied, too, because you did not ought to call the anesthesiologist at all times, and so they might put more children by way of the computer in a day. So the quantitative results have been first-class. However Doug’s outcome that he cared about have been far more qualitative. He used to be with some of the mothers waiting for her little one to come out of the scan. And when the little girl got here out of her scan, she ran up to her mother and said, "Mommy, can we come back tomorrow?" (Laughter) And so, I’ve heard Doug inform the story typically of his individual transformation and the breakthrough design that happened from it, however I’ve on no account really seen him inform the story of the little woman with out a tear in his eye. Doug’s story takes situation in a health center.I do know a factor or two about hospitals. A couple of years in the past, I felt a lump on the side of my neck. It was my flip within the MRI computing device. It used to be melanoma, it used to be the dangerous form. I was once advised I had a 40 percent hazard of survival. So even as you are sitting around with the opposite sufferers, on your pajamas, and everyone’s pale and skinny — (Laughter) you know? — and you are waiting in your flip to get the gamma rays, you feel of quite a few matters.Ordinarily, you think about: Am I going to outlive? And i notion lots about: What used to be my daughter’s existence going to be like without me? But you feel about other matters. I notion lots about: What was I put on the planet to do? What was once my calling? What will have to I do? I used to be fortunate seeing that I had lots of choices. We might been working in well being and wellness, and k-12, and the establishing world.So there were plenty of projects that I could work on. However then I made up our minds and dedicated at this factor, to the thing I most desired to do, which used to be to help as many folks as possible regain the inventive self belief they misplaced along their approach. And if I was once going to survive, that is what I desired to do. I survived, simply so you know. (Laughter) (Applause) I particularly feel that when folks acquire this self assurance — and we see it all the time at the d.College and at IDEO — that they truly start engaged on the things which can be relatively important in their lives.We see persons quit what they may be doing and go in new recommendations. We see them come up with extra interesting — and simply more — recommendations, so they are able to choose from higher recommendations. And so they just make better decisions. I do know at TED, you’re speculated to have a transformation-the-world style of factor, isn’t that — everybody has a metamorphosis-the-world thing? If there is one for me, that is it, to support this occur. So i am hoping you can become a member of me on my quest, you as, sort of, notion leaders. It will be really best when you failed to let humans divide the arena into the creatives and the non-creatives, adore it’s some God-given factor, and to have individuals have an understanding of that they are naturally inventive, and that those normal individuals must let their suggestions fly; that they should achieve what Bandura calls self-efficacy, that you can do what you got down to do, and you can attain a position of inventive self assurance and contact the snake.Thanks. (Applause) .