#and also took notes on the major process bugs we ran into

[mademoisellesarcasme]

today i was able to get a good grade in internet setup, something that is normal to want and possible to achieve

#actually i think the tech and i were genuinely mutually charmed #she was really patient while i hunted for a coax cable in a room full of furniture #and while i fixed some router issues that were confusing and annoying #and also took notes on the major process bugs we ran into #so i hope we genuinely make the setup process easier for others soon!!

[limitlessgojo]

Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate (Ch 2)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: The First Meeting

Next Chapter: What's Your Ideal Type?

Tags: Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj, @rizzo-nero, @whoreuc

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, please mention it in the comments below ty.

CHAPTER 2: The Rebirth

You had a hard time falling asleep that night. Your mind is trying to remember the vision, but the images remain blurry. There was a faint heat lingering from the man's body pressed against yours.

‘Could we possibly be…. It’s not impossible but….’, your mind was working 10,000 miles an hour trying to think of the possibilities. There was only one thought that came to mind and it made you blush. You pulled up the covers and snuggled against your stuffed plushies and pillows. You had to pass by the library and get permission tomorrow.

At least the weaponry was amazing. Noritoshi senpai even showed you inside and pointed you to the crossbows he often practices with. ‘He must be a capable sorcerer. The way he holds himself up with such dignity was already a dead giveaway. A natural born leader huh.’ you wondered.

You fell asleep that night dreaming about a lovely Phoenix, being reborn from ashes.

◇◇◇

Noritoshi was pacing around in his room. He had passed by the library on the way back from dinner, and grabbed several books. “The Secrets of Foreseeing the Future, Vol. 1”, “Alternate and Parallel Worlds”, “Past Lives: A Study”, and “The Life and Works of Abe no Seimei".

He paced around his dorm room, looking over the book that was bothering him the most. “The Tales and True Records of Soulmates”.

He scanned through the main parts of the book. It spoke about bonding. There apparently were 2 types of bonding, emotional and physical.

When 2 halves of a whole reach a certain degree of understanding of each other, they establish what's called a half-bond or a phantom bond.

This begins to link their emotions. Intense anger, fear, joy, disgust, sorrow, and love can be felt from the very first stage. As their bond strengthens, they begin to share more emotions, as well as short strong intentions.

Intentions are used to depict a state of being. If they have a goal or a state of feeling over a particular matter, their partner can pick up on it.

The near final stage of a full bond is when they start to share physical sensations. When one gets injured, it will resound with the other.

The strongest bond is known to share special abilities and thoughts via telepathy between a fated pair.

Noritoshi's mind was definitely in overdrive. There was SO MUCH information on soulmates. But the one thing that wasn't explicitly stated was how a soulmate pair found each other.

How do soulmates confirm that they are indeed soulmates? Most of the information was based on soulmates who simply claimed to be. Then what about how they came to be?

So now he knows that soulmates are supposedly able to share emotions and feelings to a certain degree. But there was a lack of information in the book. What about visions? The vision he shared with y/n was one of a kind.

It kept discussing how the known most popular existence were the parents of Sugawara no Michizane. One of the three great vengeful spirits that is the ancestor of the Gojo clan.

He made up his mind. Taking out his phone, he dialed up his father.

Beep. “Noritoshi? It’s so late, why are you calling at this time? It best be an urgent matter.” his father gruffly answered.

“I am sorry to disturb you father. It’s just, there is a new student here in school. A First year called Tsuchimikado y/n from the Tsuchimikado clan.”

“Ahhh, them huh? Powerful group even though there are only a few of them. They don’t really talk about their techniques that much. They are descendants of Abe no Seimei and yet they kept to themselves as a minor clan of jujutsushi… So what about her?”

“She might possibly be my soulmate, but I am still confirming. Do you have any books or records on soulmates at all?”

At this, his father sat up straight in his study. “Are you serious? And what can you say to prove such claims? Do you know how rare a soulmate bond is?”

"I am aware. And I know we may not be soulmates. But I have some suspicions. If you have any info about soulmates, The Abe clan, or the Tsuchimikado clans, I would appreciate it." Noritoshi replied.

"Okay. I'll have a look and get back to you. Feel free to come by the main house this weekend. Look over the main study. There are also some records on Soulmates there."

"Thank you father. Have a good evening."

Beep.

Noritoshi sighed. He undid his hair bindings and combed out his hair. And opened the book again. He read through the table of contents in case he missed out on any major pointers.

He couldn't read the book in one sitting, because he is still reviewing for the TOEIC and improving his English.

He yawned and was about to retire to bed, remembering his promise to bring you around tomorrow, when one particular word jumped at him.

The binding process of soulmates. He quickly flipped through to the page and found out with horror that some of the pages had been torn out.

It wasn't him who did it. (Obviously). But now he has to go and tell Utahime sensei about it.

He took a closer look at the remaining few pages.

"The Binding of Soulmates. It is known to vary per pair. Some pairs found themselves to be born with a matching symbol in the inside of their arms or on their necks from birth. While others form it upon passing the first stage of -" and the page ends with a violent diagonal tear from the upper right corner to the lower left.

That's pretty much all that he can take away from the book so far. Frustrated, he decided to go to sleep. Nothing about sharing visions was mentioned so far. Maybe they weren't a fated pair after all.

But deep in his gut, Noritoshi knew that you were an important person to him. That was for sure. As he fell asleep, he shared the same dream with you. A lone Phoenix, being reborn from its ashes.

◇◇◇

The following morning, you didn't know where to meet up with Noritoshi senpai so you simply went to the same place he left you last night. On your way there, you passed by a tall robot kind of thing which spooked you. You stared at it, wondering if it was a kind of automation that serves the technical school.

To your surprise, it turned towards you and bowed while greeting, "Hello. I'm a 1st year student here at Kyoto Jujutsu Technical College. You can call me Mechamaru. Kokichi Muta is my real name, but I use robots to fight."

Your eyes widened in surprise and curiosity. "My name is Tsuchimikado Y/n, also starting here as a first year student. Pleased to meet you!" You bowed back.

“So… is your body inside that robot?” you asked him.

“No, as a result of heavenly restriction, which if you haven’t heard of yet is a means of exchange/ a binding contract, my body is elsewhere. I am controlling this robot from afar.”

Your eyes bugged, “That’s incredible! To have that much cursed energy, plus it is over such a long distance.” You were jealous as long-ranged techniques are something you try to work hard and specialise on.

“It’s not that fun being physically stuck in a basement.” Mechamaru didn’t sound too amused.

“Ah, I’m sorry about that… “ you floundered as you mentally hit yourself for being so inconsiderate.

“No need to apologize. I am used to it.” He waved it off coolly.

"You're the first other 1st year I've met Mechamaru. I wonder when the others will come. I've heard of 2 others." You wondered.

"I've already met one of them. Miwa is her name. You won't miss her with her bright blue hair." He replied. His voice was so stiff and robotic, a strange feature.

"Ohhhh I see. I'll keep that in mind!" You smiled. "I'm afraid I have somewhere to be right now, but I'll catch you around for sure! Please take care of me."

"Don't let me keep you waiting. Please also take care of me and see you around." Mechamaru waved as you ran off.

More students to meet huh. Your heart pounded in nervousness and excitement. So it was Miwa and Mechamaru so far. ‘Ugh, I’m so bad with names. I’ll surely get used to it.’ you thought to yourself.

You rounded the corner and nearly plowed through Noritoshi senpai in your haste. “Whoa there, careful,” he held his hands out in case you slipped, but you were fine. You caught yourself just before you hit his personal space.

You were surprised to see him already there, in the same clothes he was in yesterday (was that his uniform? You had yet to get yours, which had custom arrangements).

"Good morning Noritoshi-senpai!" you beamed up at him. He looked down at you amusedly, liking your bright energy. “Good morning y/n.”

Your smile grew wider upon hearing your name fall from his lips for the very first time. For a moment the both of you just stood there smiling. Then Noritoshi beckoned you to his side as you walked around the campus.

"Did you sleep well last night?" He asked.

"Ah yes, though it might take some time getting used to the dorm rooms here. But everything is pretty much convenient. Especially the kitchenettes in our rooms." You were still excited about starting classes.

“Did you have your uniform tailored to your liking?” You asked him.

“Ah yes, I requested a looser fit. I am used to wearing a kimono and wooden sandals at home. I simply requested for them to be made in a similar fashion for comfort. And it gives me enough space to hide all of my weapons.” He smiled gently down at you.

“Ahhh I see. I have also put in a request for my uniform, but I don’t have it yet.” you said.

“Well, it shouldn’t be too long now, classes start in 2 days after all.”

He brought you around the main gardens. “It’s so big,” you gaped, excited to train here. There was so much open space, it would be good for flying practice. “The other buildings are offices for the staff, and warehouses for special tools and materials.” He explained.

Then Noritoshi led you to a corridor with tons of doors. “These are the 3rd year classrooms. First and second year classrooms are upstairs. We can have a look if you’d like?” He asked.

You agreed. And on your way to the staircase, you came face to face with a man going down the stairs. He was incredibly tall and ripped. With his hair tied up, a scar racing down on his left eye, he grunted at Noritoshi in greeting.

He came down and faced you both, before addressing Noritoshi. “You ready for class? Is this a new student?”

“Of course I am. And she is a first year. Tsuchimikado Y/n.” Noritoshi introduced you and you quickly bowed in greeting. “You can call me Tsuchi san or just Tsuchi as I know my last name is long. It is very nice to meet you!”

Noritoshi noted that you didn’t offer to be addressed by your first name this time and felt weirdly happy.

“Todo Aoi, 2nd year. So… what man or woman is your ideal type?” He asked as he loomed over you menacingly. You barely came up to this man's chest.

….. What in the world are you getting into?

Fun fact: The Tsuchimikado Clan are indeed a real clan descended from the Abe Clan and Abe no Seimei the Onmyouji himself. I chose Abe no Seimei as a parallel to the three great vengeful spirits from whom the big 3 Jujutsu families are descendants of. As Abe no Seimei was also a major figure during the Heian period. But of course my story is a work of fiction so other than the onmyouji himself, everyone else is not real^^.

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

#kamo noritoshi #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk fanfic #kamo noritoshi x you #noritoshi fluff #noritoshi angst #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #kamo noritoshi x reader #soulmates au #blood bound #red strings of fate

[sfb123]

Sapere Aude - Part 5

Book: The Royal Heir

Pairing: King Liam Rys x Queen Riley Brooks

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Catch Up Here

Series Description: I developed a theory of what I think will happen in TRH Book 4, and I was encouraged by some very lovely people to turn my theory into a fic, so here it is. Basically, Riley is recruited to join the Via Imperii, this series will follow her as she joins them to try and bring them down from the inside, and all of the drama and bombshells she learns along the way. Sapere Aude is Latin for “dare to know” it seemed like an appropriate title.

Rating: PG-13 Adult language, allusions to smut (but nothing graphic), discussions of death, conspiracy, blackmail, and other adult themes.

Warning: The Royal Heir Book 3 Spoilers all over the place.

Word Count: 3,189

Notes: This is kind of a transitional chapter, no major plot movement (but there is some major Uncle Drake time, if that helps). If I had combined it with the next chapter, it would have been way too long. I promise I’m going to make up for it in the next chapter. 

As always, one love to my pre-readers @texaskitten30​ & @txemrn​, I’m surprising you both with some extra content that was not in the preread (chapter 6 got way too long, so I took the opening fluff and added it to the end of this chapter). And thank you @twinkleallnight​ for my moodboard!

Tags: Everyone is tagged below, whether or not you get notified of said tag, I guess that’s in the hands of the Tumblr gods 🤷🏻‍♀️

Riley’s eyes slowly fluttered open as she took in her surroundings, she was in an ornate bedroom that she didn’t recognize. “Oh good, you’re awake.” Mara walked toward the bed from the corner of the room where she had been sitting. 

“Mara, what happened?” Riley asked.

“You passed out, you had me worried for a moment there.” Mara poured her a glass of water from the pitcher on the nightstand. 

Memories started coming back to Riley, she remembered being at the event and taking mental note of the members in attendance. Then she remembered the speaker approaching the podium, it was Liam’s mother. Nope, that can’t be right. I had already passed out at that point. That was a dream, some weird Wizard of Oz shit. Just then, there was a knock on the door. Riley watched as Mara rushed over to the door, opening it slightly and saying something to the person on the other side. Riley tried, but she was unable to hear what was being said.

“Who was that?” Riley asked as Mara closed the door and headed back to her bedside. 

“Just someone checking on you. Tell me what you remember about what happened?” 

“Nothing really, I remember being in the room and looking around, then everything went black. I had the weirdest dream while I was out though. Liam’s mother, she was up at the podium, giving a speech.” She took in Mara’s serious expression, and started feeling uneasy again. “Mara, that was a dream...right? Liam’s mother died a long time ago.”

Mara took a deep breath, “Actually, that was not a dream, Eleanor is the leader of the Via Imperii’s Cordonian chapter.”

“But why? How? She’s been alive this whole time?” Just when I thought this couldn’t get weirder. Maybe I’m still dreaming, I haven’t woken up yet. Yeah, that’s it. She pinched her arm and quickly flinched in pain. Nope, definitely real life. Liam’s mother is alive, she has been this whole time. Liam has spent most of his life mourning a woman that not only betrayed his family, but that wasn’t even dead. How is it possible that things are still getting worse? 

“I believe that is something she is more qualified to answer herself. She is outside waiting to speak with you. Should I let her in?”

“I don’t know. What do I say? How am I supposed to act? What does one say to their dead mother-in-law that isn’t actually dead?” There was a slight tremble in her voice. “Mara, I’m freaking the fuck out here. What am I supposed to do?”

Mara sat on the side of the bed and put a comforting hand on Riley’s shoulder. “It is entirely your decision, but I promise you, things will become much more clear once you speak with her. I know this is a shock, but just listen to her.”

Riley closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths, trying to center herself. “Ok, let her in.” 

Aside from a few creases along her mouth and eyes, you would have sworn that the woman entering the room had stepped right out of the many photographs Liam had shown Riley over the years. Damn, I guess faking your death is a pretty good anti-aging cure. As Eleanor approached, Riley sat up further on the bed and leaned her back against the headboard. 

“Riley, I can’t tell you how happy I am to finally be sitting down with you. We have so much to discuss.” Eleanor took the chair from the vanity and placed it next to the bed.

Understatement of the century. “I have so many questions, I don’t even know where to start.”

“I’m sure you do dear, and I will answer all of them, but you have already been through so much tonight. You need your rest.” She patted RIley’s hand soothingly. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I would like to come by Valtoria tomorrow for brunch, we can talk then.”

“Valtoria...my Valtoria? But you’re supposed to be dead, everyone will see you. Drake will see you, he’ll know who you are.” Riley started to panic. “Eleanor is there...I mean, my Eleanor...Eleanor the second?” 

“Shh, it’s alright Riley. As much as I would love to meet my granddaughter, you are absolutely right, she and Drake can’t know that I am there. Just tell them you have a meeting, and ask Drake to take her out for a bit. Knowing him, I’m sure he’d be more than happy to take her on a little nature walk. As far as being seen, I’ve managed this long without my secret getting out. Don’t worry, I have my ways of running under the radar.”

Riley could only nod, her head still swimming with all of these thoughts and questions. Eleanor stood, giving Riley a kind goodbye and leaving the room. 

After a little more rest, and time to process the conversation she just had, Mara escorted Riley out of the estate and brought her back to Valtoria. Riley was looking forward to the comfort of being in her own home, and seeing her daughter. Eleanor was no doubt asleep already, but even just checking in on her and seeing that little face, was the most calm Riley could hope for at the moment. 

As she entered her daughter’s bedroom, she smiled to herself. Eleanor was asleep on her Uncle’s lap, while he also snored soundly, the book they were reading long forgotten on the floor in front of them. Riley gently lifted her daughter out of Drake’s arms, causing him to stir. 

“Hey Brooks. Sorry, she must have really worn me out.” He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he stood out of the oversized armchair. 

Riley gently laid her still sleeping daughter in the bed, and kissed her forehead as she tucked her in. “Trust me, if anyone understands it’s me.” She turned to her friend and gave him a hug. “Thank you so much for staying with her, Drake. I always feel better leaving her with a friend when Liam and I can’t be there.” 

The exhaustion and stress were evident in Riley’s voice. A concerned Drake nodded toward the door, signaling that they should leave Eleanor to sleep. “Are you alright? You’ve been acting weird, different, all day.” He asked as he gently shut the door behind them.

“Yea, I’m good, I promise.” Riley lied. “This event tonight, it was just one of those things that would have been so much easier with Liam. I mean, they all are, but you know what I mean.” Drake nodded as he put his arm around her shoulder and they walked toward her room. “Hey, do you mind taking Eleanor out for a bit tomorrow, like late morning-ish? I had someone tonight request a meeting, and it’s kind of time sensitive.”

“Of course, that’s what I came for. Maybe I’ll take her fishing. Would that be ok? I’d love to teach her.” 

Riley smiled at his enthusiasm, but the smile didn’t quite meet her eyes. Drake noticed. “I think that would be a great idea. I believe the gear you got her for her birthday is in the sporting shed.” 

“You know I’m not going to let this go, right? Something’s going on with you and Liam. You’re my best friends, I’m not going to just sit here and pretend something isn’t bothering you guys.”

Riley checked either side of the hallway before leading Drake into her room. As she shut the door with one hand, she raised the other to her face, signaling for Drake to be quiet. She grabbed her phone and opened the notepad app, typing a message to Drake.

Do you know how to check for bugs?

Drake furrowed his brows and nodded his head. 

Do it. 

Drake did a full sweep of the room and the balcony, and returned to Riley, who was now sitting on the bench at the end of her bed. “Alright, we’re good. Now what the hell is going on?”

She explained about the Via Imperii to Drake. She didn’t tell him everything, and she definitely didn’t tell him that Liam’s mother is alive, or that that was the meeting she was taking tomorrow. Drake listened intently to everything, his only interruption was a ‘fucking Neville’ when she was telling him about the other members. She told him that one of the higher ups from the organization wanted to meet with her tomorrow, not a lie, and that’s why she wanted him to take Eleanor out of the estate for a while. 

Everything that had happened since she and Liam stepped out of the palace doors that morning suddenly made sense to Drake. And it now made sense why Liam had asked him to go with them instead of Maxwell. He wanted protection for his family, not just someone to keep them company. 

“Ok, so who else knows? What can I do?”

“Liam wanted to wait until we had some more information to tell anyone else. I know I probably should have waited to talk to him first, but tonight was awful Drake, just so damn awful. And I can’t call Liam and tell him, because I don’t know if they’re listening to our calls, and I can’t keep it all to myself for another 48 hours.” She sighed deeply and ran a hand through her hair. “He just didn’t want us accidentally telling someone that was part of it. I’m so sorry we didn’t tell you. It’s not that we didn’t think we could trust you. It’s just, finding out his mother was involved, it hit him hard, Drake. I think he just feels so betrayed by her, it’s making him extra cautious of our inner circle.”

Drake pulled her into a hug and held her close. “Hey, it’s alright, I totally get it. If I found out something like that, I mean, I can’t even imagine.”

As they separated, Riley let out a yawn. “I should probably at least try to get some sleep. Thanks Drake, for everything.”

“Yea, of course. You guys are my family, I’ll always be here. You sure you’ll be alright?”

Riley nodded and walked him to the door. They said their good nights, and Drake headed down the hall to his room, while Riley shut the door and changed into her pajamas. She laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. She spent most of the night wondering what Eleanor would say to her tomorrow, and listing out all of the questions she was going to ask. She was grateful that she was given a chance to gather her thoughts before having to go too deep with her. She would finally be able to walk into a Via Imperii interaction prepared. Or so she hoped. 

Riley never got a good night's sleep when she and Liam were apart. She had grown accustomed to falling asleep in his arms, and no weighted blanket on the planet could replicate that feeling. The emptiness of her bed, combined with the events of the night before, and Riley wasn’t sure anything that happened over the last couple of hours could even be considered sleep. She nodded off a couple of times, but every time the REM cycle started to kick in, she would see Liam’s mother and be jolted awake. Finally, she couldn’t take the tossing and turning any longer, so she got out of bed and decided to work with Gladys to make preparations for their meeting. 

Before she did that, she wanted to go get Eleanor and make sure she was up and ready for her fishing date with Uncle Drake. As she entered her daughter’s bedroom, she saw Eleanor sitting at her table, with her back to the door, having a tea party with her stuffed animals. “Good morning, Princess.”

Eleanor turned and smiled, immediately running up to her and wrapping her arms around Riley. “Hi Mommy, come have tea with us!” She grabbed her mother’s hand and walked her to the small table. She moved one of the stuffed animals out of it’s chair, kissing it on the nose and placing it on the bed. “Sorry Woogie. Mommy, sit.” She pointed at the now empty chair. 

“Eleanor, remember our manners?” Riley raised an eyebrow at her. 

“Mommy sit...please?” She looked up with a questioning expression. 

“That’s my girl.”

They sat and ‘drank tea’, Eleanor explaining every moment of her evening with her uncle the night before with so much enthusiasm. Riley watched Eleanor’s arms gesture wildly as she talked about the game of hide and seek that they played. 

Eleanor stopped her story at the sound of Riley’s phone ringing, and squealed with excitement at the sight of her father’s face on the screen. “It’s Daddy, it’s Daddy!”

“Here, you answer it, he’ll be happy to see your face.” Riley swiped accept on the video call request, and handed the phone to Eleanor. 

Riley sat back and watched the two most important people in her life talking and laughing like there wasn’t a care in the world, when Riley knew that that world was actually in the process of crumbling. She made sure that Eleanor got the phone first so that she could take that time to compose herself before she talked to Liam. They would talk, but she couldn’t tell him anything about last night. Even if she could, a FaceTime call was not the way to deliver that news. She snapped out of her thought when she heard Liam from the other side of the phone.

“I love you too, princess. Can you please give the phone to Mommy?”

As Riley took the phone, she stood from her seat, giving Eleanor a kiss on the head. “I’m going to go talk to Daddy, Finish up your tea party, Uncle Drake is going to be taking you fishing soon.”

“YAY! Fishies!”

Riley exited the room and leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath before holding the phone up to her face. “Good morning, handsome.” She smiled softly at the sight of her husband on the other end.

“Hello, beautiful. How did you sleep?” 

“Do you really need to ask? You know you’ve spoiled me all these years, I can’t fall asleep without you.” She was determined to keep the conversation light. If it veered away from that at all, she wasn’t sure she would be able to hold back. Especially with the lack of sleep she was experiencing. 

“Trust me love, I understand. I’m already on my third cup of coffee, just one more night, and we will be together again.” His eyes said everything he wasn’t able to say in that call. They were having a silent conversation about how awful the previous night had been for Riley, and how sorry he was , how badly he wanted to be there to hold her and make it all go away. 

“It’s going to be the longest night of my life, just so you know.” She sighed, checking her watch briefly. “Liam, I have to go. I had a last minute meeting come up, and I have to go get everything ready.”

Liam nodded, knowing exactly what the meeting was in reference to, or so he thought. “Of course, I have to get ready for my day as well. I will call you later on to check in. I love you Riley, I will see you tomorrow.”

“I love you too, Liam.” She ended the call, and a single tear trailed down her cheek. She wiped it away and stood up straight. She didn’t have time to break down, she had a brunch to host. 

Riley worked with Gladys to prepare the solarium for her brunch meeting. Liam had told her how much his mother loved the gardens at the palace, so she thought that this would be an appropriate setting for their meeting. Sure, the circumstances were anything but pleasant, but this was still Eleanor Rys. This woman brought Liam, her Liam, into the world. No matter what happened in this meeting, or what became of this relationship, she would be eternally grateful to this woman for giving her the love of her life. 

She impressed on Gladys the importance of privacy for this meeting, all food and beverages were to be set out ahead of their guest’s arrival, chafing dishes and coffee carafes sat on one of the tables to ensure no servers needed to enter the room. Once the door was shut, nobody was to enter until the Queen said so. Eleanor had gone this long living under the radar, Riley certainly wasn’t going to be the one to ruin her life as a dead woman. 

Once the instructions had been laid out for the staff, Riley moved to the entryway of the estate to see Drake and Eleanor off on their fishing adventure. She walked in just as Drake was handing Eleanor her mini, hot pink, fishing rod. “Here you go, kiddo. Make sure you hold it up like this, so that you don’t poke anyone while you’re walking.”

She got a mischievous gleam in her eye. One that Drake instantly recognized from the countless times it flashed across Riley’s face, right before she’d do something that drove him crazy. Eleanor turned the rod, holding it horizontally, and jabbing it into Drake’s shins. “Poke poke poke!” 

Riley burst out laughing causing Drake to snap his head in her direction, and giving Eleanor the encouragement she needed to continue her assault on her Uncle. “To be fair, you kind of asked for it. You gave her step by step instructions.”

“Of what not to do! I guess I forgot who's kid I was talking to.” He gently took the rod out of Eleanor’s hand. “Here, I’ll carry it out to the car for you princess.”

“Thank you Uncle Drake!” She ran into her mother’s arms. “Bye Mommy!”

“Bye baby girl. Be a good princess, and make sure you do everything Uncle Drake says.” She gave Eleanor one more squeeze and let her go before approaching Drake. “Thanks for doing this, I know you didn���t expect to spend the whole weekend on babysitting duty.”

“Hey, it’s nothing. I wanted to get some fishing in while I was here anyway, always nice to have a little company.” He ruffled Eleanor’s hair as his face turned more serious. “You going to be ok?”

“The image of my daughter ramming a fishing rod into your shins should be enough to get me through it.” 

“She hangs out with you too much. She needs to spend more time with Liam so she can learn that stoicism shit.” They both laughed as he pulled her into a quick hug. “We’ll be back in a few hours.”

Riley waved as they exited the estate. Yup, that’s my daughter. Taught her everything she knows. She smiled to herself at the thought. She saw Mara approach out of the corner of her eye, and turned to face her. 

“Your appointment is here ma’am, she’s waiting for you in the solarium.”

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Tags: @txemrn @texaskitten30 @kingliam2019 @anjanettexcordonia @twinkleallnight @mile9213 @kittypryde-bipride @motorcitymademadame @kat-tia801 @bebepac @gkittylove99 @khoicesbyk @jessiembruno @queenrileyrose @athena-penrose @pixie88 @eadanga @choicesficwriterscreations @iaminlovewithtrr @hopelessromanticmonie @annarenee355 @burnsoslow @shewillreadyou @imturaxamara

#choices #play choices #choices stories you play #pixelberry #choices trr #choices trh #trr/trh #trr fandom #trh fandom #trr fanfic #trh fanfic #the royal romance #the royal heir #trh book 3 #choices fic writers creations #choices the royal romance #choices the royal heir #king liam #trr king liam #trh liam #trr liam #trr mc x liam #trh mc x liam #trh king liam #trr mc #trh mc #sapere aude

[inkheart01]

The Crossover conundrum

Or the DOOM x EFTS crossover nobody but I was interested in

Alternative title: Someone builds a dimensional hole puncher and the first one thru is Doomguy

I'll edit when I have enough brainpower to make words do the pretty thing. Bonapitete. Enjoy. Here's my disaster. adios

The day started like any other, though Calle didn’t know whether to call it day, night, dawn or dusk, or everything and anything in between considering she was floating around in a giant warship in some sector of the galaxy that she had no possible way to pronounce. She took pride in knowing that she was the furthest human away from Earth. No, that was a lie. Last she had checked, Jade was on the other side of the ship. But still, the sentiment was valid.

A rough blow to her shin spurred the young woman out of her stupor. She whipped towards the culprit, who was buried half under a giant ring, deep in the guts of the mechanism. Calle didn’t know what it was and didn’t want to.

Jemma pushed herself out from the behemoth, signing for a helping hand before clambering back under, pale face stained with dirt and mousy hair slick from sweat.

Calle reached towards the nearby mess of supply’s, handing Jemma exactly what she had asked for.

Which meant that moments later, she had front row seats to watch as the girl channelled her inner high schooler and rocket out from under the ring, tossing the literal hand with all the strength and speed of a professional pitcher.

And then she came for Calle, going straight for the talkers ankles as she ran, laughing and crying in mad glee.

Almost lost in the cacophony of joy, the machine beeped loudly, once, twice, three times.

Then it screamed.

Bathing the room in a violent red glow, it sprung to life, gears and cogs churning as it wailed, beeping and flashing in a wild symphony of horror.

The two girls sprung to action, Calle slamming the button to the intercom, screaming over the chaos as Jemma lunged towards the beast, twisting knobs and levers in a mad attempt to silence it. Time seemed to drag on ph so slowly as the two battled against the towering ring, desperate to quell it before the ship tore in half from its quakes.

They almost missed the door shuddering open like a camera, an influx of children and aliens pouring into the room and into action.

Jade was still in her flight suit, and Calle briefly realised that she would have to apologise again. The self-proclaimed pilot never got to fly.

Ian raced to help Jemma with the controls alongside Rochelle and Hunter, the towering aliens orange complexion drowned out by the violent red.

The only one who seemed to sink deeper into the glow was Max, who, alongside Hayley and Bayley and Adam, took up defensive positions around the machine, guns drawn and ready for anything that emerged.

The rest, Calle, Jade, Eviee and Maeve rushed to tear into the machine but were forced back by another shudder.

Which meant that the whole of the Lazarus’ VIP crew had first-class access to the portal swirling with a sickening green, and a metal giant emerging.

Towering and frightening, the human emerged from the portal, shotgun at the ready and so impossibly imposing.

Clad in green armour, the man was a sight.

And then he charged. Far too fast for anything human, he barrelled past Jade, past Ian and Adam. Straight for the triplets standing guard.

Calle cried out a warning, unable to help as the siblings leapt aside, followed closely by the man.

And then, almost in slow motion, the door opened again, revealing the tiny shape of Emily, bathed in light. She stood with her bear clutched tight, eyes wide and searching. “Teddy?”

And the man froze, turning to the six-year-old in shock.

Taking the moment of opportunity, Max lunged, all 11feet and 4inches of alien crashing into the man like a freight train.

But the man was quicker, spinning out of the Rashikk’s way. But he didn’t account for the aliens head-tail.

Quick as a whip, the length shot forward, desperately trying to wrap around his armoured neck, but with little luck. And so Max lunged again, dodging the arm blade and pulling the man to the floor with a strength that anyone who had seen a Rashikk fight, would know was a mere fraction of their might.

And anyone who knew Max, also knew that he was just waiting for an opportunity to unleash hell.

And that presented itself in the armoured man on the floor, who, with startling strength, pushed the alien off and lunged for his Shotgun, the weapon having been knocked aside in the calamity.

But Adam was faster, nimble and quick, he scrabbled for the gun, tossing his rifle to Calle who easily slid into his place, gun aimed at the man and finger on the trigger. Adam slid under the man's arm, gun in hand as the warship lurched.

The armoured man slid, unaccustomed to Vivaane’s piloting, or the alarming nimbleness of the Lazarus, and Max took the opportunity to force the man's helmet off and knocking him out in the process.

Hours later, after the crews buzzing had died down, Captain Kalishnamara strode was not the medical wing, intent on finding out what the incident was this time.

But nothing could prepare her for what she saw when the doors opened.

Eight humans flitted around the room, Emily was perched on Max’s bed, bear in her lap as she laughed at her adopted father's antics. Eviee and Jemma, ever the scientists, were drilling into the half armoured man confined to the room, a dark robot at his side, translating. Jade, Rochelle and Ian were watching, transfixed as the Rashikk triplets tried and failed to beat Adams score for the fastest time to take apart and re-assemble a gun.

And then there was the Askiir, Maeve, the one she trusted the least, who was hovering nervously around Eviee. She had nothing against him personally, but when one gas the ability to manipulate emotions, there will always be a slight distrust, at least in her experience, Eviee seemed fine with the lanky bug.

Jade was the first to notice Kalishnamara and snapped to attention seconds before everyone else, bare the two newcomers, and Emily who was using the wrong hand, but no one held that against her, and if they did, the Lazarus fleet was always ready for a hunt.

“At ease. Alright, I’ll keep it simple. Someone’s already given me the incident report and I’ll get around to it when I have the patience”, Eviee made quick work of translating the Rashikk’s odd symphony of clicks and whistles that made up their spoken language. “All I want to know is if there is a body count”

“Not today”, Bayley answered cheekily, earning a laugh from those in the room that could understand, and leaving the last two to Waugh’s for Eviee translation.

“Good. Let’s keep it that way a little longer”, finally moving from the doorway, she stalked towards the newest members of her VIP crew, noting something peculiar in the way they communicated.

Leaning down as not to be overheard, she motioned to Jemma. “You both speak in the language of hands, yet you cannot understand each other without translations. Why is this?”. Though she was still not fluent in Jemma’s hand language, she understood enough of the basics to cobble together a sentence.

‘Different hand language. Different Home’

“I see. Thank you”. The captain rose to her full height, and the man glared, unknowingly annoyed at feeling oddly small not once, nor twice, but three times since coming through the portal. Was this what everyone else felt when he walked past?

Eviee dutifully translated the aliens oddly melodic language, a strange sound to come from creatures so adept at war.

“On behalf of the Crew and Residents, I welcome you aboard the Lazarus” the robot thanked her, introducing himself and the man. Flynn and Vega. Odd names, but who was she to judge. “I am Captain and Fleet Commander Kalishnamara. But you may call me Lisa. It is a nickname, as I am told.

“You will be regarded as VIP guests while aboard, much like everyone in this room. Please, referring from breaking any of my men why we try to get you home. Now, any questions?”

“Just one actually”, Vega spoke up, “how can you understand them?”

It took Lisa an embarrassingly long time to realise that the robot had been talking to Eviee, who was desperately hiding her laughter from the confused Captain. But still, she managed to pull her source up and reveal the thick golden band around her bicep. “Universal translator. It hurt like hell but is incredibly useful. The downside, both speaking parties have to have one to be able to communicate.”

Flynn turned to look towards Emily, who was squealing as Max and Rochelle bickered.

“What’s the diagnosis doc?”

“You want my diagnosis? Your gonna fuckin die!”

“Don’t worry about her”, Eviee waved off the giants concern. “She doesn’t have one. We’re working on an alternative”

At that same moment, Lisa turned towards Max. “I was told that no major injuries were sustained. Why are you in Ned at?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. The beds are just comfortable”

Lisa sighed as she left the room, muttering about needing a drink. Followed by Jade, Calle, Ian and Adam, the rest of the Chaos club, two aliens, a robot and a confused mountain of a man and a six-year-old and her stuffed bear.

The day ended like any other, in that the Days without Incident board was wiped clean, five new reports were written up, and the crew was abuzz. The only new thing being that the armoury was now locked, indefinitely.

#EFTS #DOOM #God these kids #its a wonder there still fucking alive #Doomguy: Sees child #Also Doomguy: The fuck is you? #G/T #If you squint #Minigiants maybe #my writing #FUCK YEAH EFTS #Escape From The Stars

[automaticworktimereports]

Quill - Narrative Science

Ets Research: Automated Scoring Of Writing Quality

Table of ContentsAssociated Press - Automated InsightsAutomated Reporting Software & Tools: Report Automation ToolAutomated Journalism - WikipediaAutomated Report Generation With Papermill: Part 1 - Practical ...Automated Generation Of Clinical Study Reports Using Sas ...

As marketers in 2020, there's one significant thing that we share: We're driven by data. No matter whether we're copywriters, social media managers, videographers, or web designers, information is crucial to assisting us figure out which jobs are effective, which methods might require more of a budget plan, and which methods we need to leave behind.

Even if you have an analytics software that tracks a project's traffic, engagements, ROI, and other KPIs, you'll likely still require to take some time to arrange these numbers, evaluate them, and develop an understandable way to report on your tasks to your group or clients. In the past, marketing companies and companies entrusted full-timers with reporting-related duties. automate dashboard.

Best Reporting Tools & Software Of 2021 ...thedigitalprojectmanager.com

This is an issue that my Cleveland-based marketing firm, PR 20/20, ran into a few years back. As part of our process, we develop monthly efficiency reports for each of our customers. When we produce them, we pull the data from HubSpot and Google Analytics. Then, we compose a report to describe the data to our colleagues, customers, and project stakeholders.

However, although they were assisting our clients, creating them was holding our group back. While our clients found the reports valuable, the process of pulling the data, examining it, and drafting the reports easily took 5 hours per client, monthly. This took our online marketers away from jobs that could have been productive in the long run, such as brainstorming originalities and strategies that could noticeably assist their customers.

Automated Journalism – Ai Applications At New York Times ...

Whenever you're trying to try out or implement a new strategy, you'll desire to investigate the subject thoroughly. For example, you'll wish to recognize your spending plan and after that check out software that fits into it. You'll also desire to identify the pros and cons of any software application you consider. This will help you much better familiarize yourself with the world of AI and which tools can actually assist you.

Prior to deciding that we wished to streamline our reporting technique, we 'd been researching AI through resources at our Marketing AI Institute. The Institute is a media company that intends to make AI more approachable for marketers. real-time progress reporting. Given that we released the business, we've released more than 400 posts on AI in marketing.

2 billion. After learning more about how AI had already streamlined lots of marketing-related procedures, we decided to explore how automation and artificial intelligence could assist us with our clients at PR 20/20. We ended up being obsessed with how smarter technology could increase revenue and reduce costs. At the same time, we found natural language generation (NLG) technology that wrote plain English automatically.

You have actually experienced NLG anytime you've utilized Gmail's Smart Compose feature. Or, when you hear Amazon's Alexa react to your voice questions. Once we discovered a possibly useful NLG software, we chose to run an experiment to see if the AI technology could partially or totally automate our efficiency report composing process.

'Automated Writing': Implications For Digital Communicators ...

Now, the next step is to look for software application that works for your service. Here are a couple of things you'll need to think about: You'll want to consider the cost of any of the software application's memberships or charges, in addition to the expense to implement it. For example, you might need to contract or hire an engineer to prepare your information and take any steps to ensure the software application works smoothly.

Be sure to comprehend what you'll need to do if something isn't working correctly so you do not incur any emergency expenses. As an online marketer, you will not wish to depend on a full-time engineer to use AI software application to run your reports. You'll wish to purchase software application that your less tech-savvy staff member can eventually get trained on and discover. automated reporting dashboards.

As you choose software, you'll also desire to track down case research studies, reviews, or user testimonials that explain how a business utilized the software to run reports or finish a similar activity. This will provide you a concept of if the item you're thinking about has a good track record or credibility in the AI software application market.

Here are two highly-regarded examples: Domo is a data visualization and reporting tool that integrates with major information and analytics platforms consisting of Google Analytics. When you link these platforms, you can utilize a dashboard to set up and generate information visualizations or reports for your clients. These visualizations include pie charts, other graphs, and word clouds.

Vphrase - Get Insights From Your Data In Natural Language

The platform provides guides on how to develop datasets or spreadsheets that its algorithms will acknowledge as well as a drag and drop guide which asks you to publish specific details such as "Regular monthly Spending plan." Here's a quick demo that shows Domo in action: This reporting software permits you to produce reports or reporting dashboards that your group and customers can edit and cross-collaborate on.

reporting tools ...opensource.com

Aside from data visualizations, you can likewise add boxes to your dashboards that show you scorecards that note whether you're striking your goals or not, in addition to filters that help you drill down on specific elements of your project. Here's a demonstration discussing how small businesses such as nonprofits can take advantage of the software application's control panel reporting features: No matter which product you choose, you'll likely require to prepare your information in a way that your software's robot or algorithm could easily recognize and evaluate - automatic report.

Plecto ApS

Address: Viby Ringvej 11, 1 tv

Phone: [phone]

Email: [email protected]

Real-time insights

The software application needed structured information in columns and rows to generate text. So, initially, we needed to pull HubSpot and Google Analytics information into spreadsheets. Due to the fact that doing this manually would take too much time and limit the prospective time saved with automation, we utilized APIs and constructed our own algorithm utilizing Google Apps Scripts to pull data into a Google Sheet.

We knew NLG software would be unlikely to deal with completely customized reports well. So, we developed a design template for these reports that didn't change each month. To develop a format for each report, we identified a set of 12 typical questions we were trying to respond to for clients each month: How much traffic concerned your site, and how does that compare to the previous month? In 2015? How engaged was last month's website traffic? What were the top traffic-driving channels? Was there fluctuation in general traffic, and if so, what caused it? How did the blog carry out last month? How engaged was blog traffic? What were the top-performing post? Existed any modifications in blog site traffic last month, and if so, what caused them? The number of goals or new contacts were generated last month? What were the leading transforming pages? Where did objectives or new contacts come from? Was there any change in overall objectives or lead volume, and if so, what was accountable? A good AI software application will either allow you to produce files or even dashboards, as your reports.

Automated Writing Evaluation - Excelsior College Owl

As soon as we 'd structured our information and established a standard report format, we needed to translate our standard report format into an NLG design template. The design template was basically a completed variation of a performance report. When the NLG software runs, this report gets copied into the NLG software. Then guidelines are applied to the copy to programmatically upgrade what's written based on the structured information offered.

------------[ 1 ]------------

Automated Reports - Jotform

Table of ContentsHow Report Automation Can Improve Your Reporting Process ...Automated Content: Can Algorithms Write Your Content For You?Automated Reports And Dashboards In R - Nandeshwar.infoSitekick - Automated Client ReportsReproducible And Automated Reporting Using Stata

The final output could be a CSV, Word, or Google Doc file. Even if you're dealing with a credible AI software application, you'll still wish to evaluate it and troubleshoot any concerns that emerge. This prevents any AI-related occurrences from happening when the tool is actively being utilized by workers or on tight due dates.

Plecto ApS

Address: Viby Ringvej 11, 1 tv

Phone: [phone]

Email: [email protected]

Real-time insights

And we eventually perfected the process to regularly produce clear, accurate automatic performance reports. If a software service provider that you work with offers a trial or discount for evaluating out their item, leverage it. This will permit you to witness first-hand if the cost of the product exceeds its benefits, or provide you time to recognize if there is a better product that you ought to be using - automatic dashboard.

When you do this, here are a few things that you'll desire to examine: The quantity of time that the software is conserving employees, or if there were any bugs, just how much time the software cost. The amount of other efficient or revenue-generating tasks your team had the ability to get made with the extra time you had.

Regulatory Tracking & Compliance ...bulalaw.com

As we tracked our brand-new automated efficiency reports, we found that our tools took a portion of the time to produce the exact same report that we took hours to produce. Furthermore, the level of detail in our client reports is now constant throughout all accounts. Prior to we implemented AI tools, the reports were just as strong as the account team's comfort level of evaluating marketing performance reports.

Associated Press - Automated Insights

The only handbook part of the procedure now involves spot-checking the data for accuracy, applying some styling, and then sending. time reports. What when took us five hours per report now takes 10 minutes. While the initial process required to be handled by numerous teammates, just one employee is needed for spot-checking.

Although our group has the ability to gain access to AI providers and professionals for our in-office experiments, other small company online marketers can likewise take benefit of this technique rather economically. Nevertheless, bear in mind that AI execution can take some time. For us, we needed to put time into building structured datasets, in addition to our Report template so that our AI software application could read our analytics and draft reports appropriately.

Total information, faster conclusions, and much better decision-making digital-era success hinges on them (real-time progress reporting). But a company with a single variation of the truth, spreadsheets filled with accurate data, is still a few rungs brief of success. One reason: management requires easy-to-digest reports that interpret the numbers. That tends to lead to cleaner analyses and crisper decision-making.

These products drill-down into ab company's database and auto-produce easy-to-understand, written reports from the same data that Microsoft Excel uses to produce graphics. A few of these fairly new AI tools also known as natural language generation, or NLG, software are variations of the same innovation that assists significant media companies produce computer-written news items.

Automated Reporting With R Markdown

Anna Schena, a senior product manager at Story Science, another AI-generated writing toolmaker, says that "data storytelling" implies users don't have to learn how to evaluate spreadsheets or glean insights from long rows of dashboard dials. "Easy-to-understand language and one-click collaboration functions make sure that everybody in a business in fact comprehends the data, all the time," Schena states.

States Sharon Daniels, CEO of Arria: "NLG-driven, multi-dimensional stories are the development that [data-generated] visuals were years earlier. The big information issue was partly addressed with the advancement of service intelligence dashboards," she discusses. "But while visuals paint an image, they're not the total picture." Includes Daniels: "The ability to gain access to essential details in near real-time interacted as if composed by the business's leading expert, without predisposition, at an NLG writing-speed is truly astonishing - automated report writing." Deep inside analytics departments, NLG tools are getting traction.

Heitzman utilized AI-generated writing software application from Arria NLG to punch-up reports containing the graphics rendered by his propriety service intelligence (BI) software application. "We've developed narratives on enormous amounts of data to be able to immediately and clearly articulate the marketing worth we're giving our clients," Heitzman states. "The [Arria NLG] platform has actually dramatically reduced the amount of time and effort to discover insights." Brian O'Connor, lead director, advanced analytics international service services at biopharmaceutical giant AstraZeneca, boosted the graphics produced by Microsoft's Power BI.

Meanwhile, chip goliath Nvidia is enhancing its Tableau control panel with Automated Insights: "Automated Insights' Wordsmith has actually entirely changed how our group interacts with Tableau," says LaSandra Brill, head of digital planning and insights at Nvidia. "We can now ask the most essential questions straight within Tableau and receive real-time analysis from Wordsmith." IT options service provider Macrocomm includes story to its analytics program's output also: "By adding narratives to Eureka, we can produce summary findings in several languages that can be shared with stakeholders at a speed and scale not formerly possible," says Vinny Perumal, a handling director in the compnay's energies department.

Implementing Automated Reporting Solutions – What To ...

[prorevenge]

Well, you were warned not to park there...

This story happened about 15 years ago, give or take. At the time, I worked for a small industrial railroad in my city that served about twenty different industries along the docks. To get to the docks, from the yard where I would pick up the inbound (deliveries to the industries) cars, we had a mile of street trackage that ran right down the middle of a small street. Numerous bars lined the street on one side, with the river on the other side.

Because of city regulations, we were only allowed to operate along that span of track between specific hours. Typically 11 at night, to about 5 in the morning. However, since the bars were open at that time, it also meant that we had to trundle along at a crawl (usually walking pace, or just about that), and keep the locomotive on the front end of the movement. Every night I went down that street, there would typically be two or three people who had parked too close to the tracks, prompting me to have to get people to move their cars. It wasn't a major problem, just an annoyance.

Except for one guy. It seemed that every single night, I would have to stop about halfway down because this guy would always park his truck at an angle in the street, as opposed to parallel parking. (There were some angle parking spaces, but they were further down where there wasn't rails in the road.) Every single night, I'd have to head into the bar this guy owned and bug the guy to get him to move the truck. Most of the time, it'd take him a good thirty minutes to an hour to drag himself out and move the thing. This meant, of course, I was losing time that I needed to get my job done.

After months of this, I finally decided that I had enough. So, I decided to have the guy towed. Yeah... that didn't work out as well as I hoped. Turned out that the guy also had some job with the city, or the mayor's office, or some friend in either. So, no one would dare come out and tow his truck. I think I waited there a good hour before he eventually came out and moved it, even having the gall to flip me the bird as he left.

At that point, I decided that not only was I totally done with the guy, but if the chance arose; I was going to teach him a lesson he wouldn't soon forget. Nothing physical per se, just a hard learned lesson.

Couple days later, I found myself heading down the track with half a dozen heavy cars with machinery bound for the docks. As I rounded the curve and neared the place where that guy always parked, I gently applied the independent brakes on the locomotive. This would slow the heavy train, but wasn't enough to stop it outright. At least, not quickly. I waited until the very last minute, laying on the horn and applying the full brakes, bringing everything to a screeching halt in the middle of the street. As I felt the brakes begin to hold, there was this loud "THUNK" and screeching and tearing of metal as the train simply punted the truck out of the way, tearing the bed clean off it in the process.

This did not go unnoticed, as a crowd had started to gather out front of the bar when they heard the train coming. I stay in the cab, calling back to dispatch and inform them that I'd struck a parked car, and they needed to get the police, and a tow truck out to my location. All the while, I could hear this guy screaming (heard him over the sound of the locomotive no less) at the top of his lungs about how he was going to have me thrown in jail, sue the company, and all manner of things. Locking the doors, I opted to just wait in the cab for the boys in blue to arrive.

Eventually, they pop around and start taking statements. I explain the problem, noting that I couldn't (well, I could have, but it wouldn't have been a good idea) simply slam on the brakes due to the cargo I was carrying; and that the only reason I hit the truck was because it was improperly parked. I added that the gentleman had been warned in the past that something like this could happen, and had ignored the warnings.

The man, for his part, was simply livid. Hopping around, yelling at me, yelling at the cops, and just beside himself. In the end, he was ticketed for his bad parking, obstructing the passage of a train, and his truck was totaled, and he ended up on the hook for paying for it. (Truck was brand new, and not yet paid off, or so I was told.)

It took about two hours to clean up the mess, and I was (per company rules) suspended for a week during the company investigation... but honestly, it was worth it. Didn't have any problems with him from that point forward either.

(source) story by (/u/kibufox)

#prorevenge #by /u/kibufox #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

[ihaveakoreanseoul]

Shoot Out Part III

Part I  Part II

Word Count~ 3.7

Warnings- None!

Hyunjin (Stray Kids) x Reader

Juyeon (The Boyz) x Reader

Mafia! AU; Werewolf! AU

I took a moment for myself, trying to only focus on the feeling of my breaths coming in and out of my body. After I felt steady enough to perform basic functions, I changed out of my sticky mess of a shirt and grabbed a replacement out of my closet. I washed off my face and pulled my hair into a bun, figuring that washing it would be a challenge that I would leave for a later time. I cracked open the door and scurried over to my brother’s room, grabbing a plain black t-shirt for the beautiful boy sitting in my kitchen to change into.

As I walked down the stairs, I mentally prepared myself to see his face again and ignore the pesky feelings that he caused to arise in me. He was sitting at the counter, his hair freshly slicked back, as if he had tried to wash it in the sink. He was hunched over a notebook of some sort, furiously dragging the pencil across the paper, as if he was sketching something. “Hey,” I said and he jerked up, slamming the notebook closed as if trying to hide something. “I brought this shirt for you to change into. We can stick your shirt in the washer when you’re done changing and I’ll get the brownies in the oven.” Once again he responded with a grunt of agreeance and I wondered what had changed. Gone was the boy who used every possible opportunity to fluster me with a flirty comment or cocky remark, he simply behaved like he didn’t know how to act around me anymore.

After I knew he had made it up the stairs and heard the sound of a door shutting, I tiptoed over to his notebook, curious of its contents that he seemed so desperate to hide from me. I opened it up and at first glance realized that it was indeed a sketchbook and also that Hyunjin was insanely talented. The first pages were all drawings of nature scenes of some sort, with a common theme of there being wolves in the sketches, either in the foreground or peering out from behind trees that looked so real that I could almost smell the fresh scent of pine.

Knowing that he would come down soon, I quickly flipped to the later pages, hoping to locate his work in progress. I was continually skimming the pages until I came to a halt upon a face that was oh so familiar but also looked like a face I had never seen before. It was my own face, deep in thought with a pencil pressed to my lower lip. I saw my eyes, my lips, my nose, the furrow in between my brows that formed when I was deep in concentration. I knew all these pieces were drawn to perfection but I could still hardly believe the sketch was of me because it was beautiful. I had never been what I considered severely insecure about my looks but I knew where I lied on the scale of beauty and it was not like this. The way he drew me felt like a caress on my face, his pencil lightly running over my features.

Wholeheartedly shocked by my discovery, I flipped past the first sketch to see drawing after drawing of me in various states. In most I was in class, either furiously scribbling down notes or with my hand raised high and eagerness to learn in my eyes. But in some I was with friends, smiling mischievously with a glint in my eyes or with my hands waving in front of me, caught up in the magic of storytelling. I finally came to the last sketch, which was rougher than the others, with the lines drawn in an almost frantic manner. If I had questioned that Hyunjin at least had some type of feelings towards me when I was looking at the previous drawings, all those doubts disappeared immediately when I saw this one. It was a moment that had occured only minutes ago, in the midst of the food fight. I was crouched on the ground, hands reached out in surrender and my head threw back as laughter wracked my body. Somehow with only the gray of the pencil he had made my eyes look like they were sparkling from within. I knew at that moment that he cared about me, much more than he would ever let on but the question I had was in what way did he care for me? Was it the joy of companionship that made him draw me? The tingle of new friendship? Or possibly something more?

With those thoughts shaking me back into reality, I realized that he would probably be down any moment. I slammed the notebook closed and ran over to hurriedly pour the brownie batter into the prepared pan, all while my mind spun out of control. I was debating what to do about what I had seen as I reached down to put the pan in the hot oven. As I slid the brownies onto the rack I was so caught up in thought that I didn’t notice my fingers coming into contact with the scalding metal rack until pain shot through my fingers.

I shot back, shaking my hand as if it would take away the pain as I heard a call of “(Y/N)” echo through the kitchen. I looked over to see Hyunjin running toward me and as he reached me he grabbed my hand to inspect my reddening fingers. Like a nagging mother he started on with “(Y/N) you have to be more careful next time. For christ’s sake you only have one set of fingers, they won’t regrow if you burn them off.”

As he mused, he placed a hand on my back and guided me towards the sink, where he turned on cool water and ran it over my fingers, still gingerly holding my hand in his. For the first time since he had come downstairs, I looked to him and our eyes met. In a low voice I said “Thank you for taking care of me Hyunin. I promise I will be more careful next time.” Instead of looking away, we both held the gaze for a few moments that felt like an eternity and I could feel my cheeks flush under his stare. He leaned in minutely for a moment and breathed in deep like his lungs were begging for air before he said “Be more careful from now on (Y/N) or you could get burned.” Somehow I knew that he didn’t mean that the oven would burn me.

Panic coursed through me as I struggled to come to terms with all the extraordinary events that had happened in the last hour. I yanked my hand out of his and I swear I saw pain flash in his eyes for a moment. “We had better get started on the project,” I said, trying to convince myself to focus on schoolwork instead of the feelings that I was drowning in.

I sat down at the kitchen counter, spreading all the class materials out in front of me. Looking down at the rubric for the project, I let out a deep sigh. Our english teacher was known for being a harsh grader, and I was worried that this project could drop my grade down to an A-. My parents have always been a major source of pressure when it comes to grades and I knew they would be displeased with a grade like that.

I heard the noise of the chair scraping across the floor as Hyunjin sat down next to me. I began to go over the basics of the project with him and then decided it was best to discuss the novel to see if we could agree on a theme to focus on. I was shocked that when I began to throw out ideas into the mix, he responded with eloquently spoken, well thought out responses and used examples from the novel to support his statements. A few minutes into our discussion I was stammering in surprise when I finally decided to voice my confusion.

“So Hyunjin, I’ve got a question for you.” He lifted his gaze to meet mine. “Yeah?”

“I thought you slept everyday in class, how do you know all of this?”

He immediately burst into laughter. “I’d already read these novels in my free time and I’d rather sleep than listen to our teacher try to explain the beauty out of the book.”

“So I’m not the only one who gets upset every time he brings up literary devices that I’m relatively sure the author never intended to mean anything?”

“Not at all. Do you remember one of the first days in class when he tried to say that Twilight was a modern day Romeo and Juliet and as such, should be treated with more respect? That’s the first day I fell asleep.”

“Okay I have to admit, I did question his sanity a bit at that point but he is the one who writes the tests so I still try to listen.”

“Fair enough.”

For the next few hours we worked in comfortable silence. I began making the powerpoint that was necessary for the project, while Hyunjin began searching for sources to cite. I did not realize how late it was getting until I heard the familiar sound of the garage door lifting, signaling that my mom was home from work. I let of an “Oh shit,” without thinking about it. Hyunjin looked up from his work. “What’s wrong?”

“Well I hope you’re ready to meet my mom.”

“Should I be worried?”

“No, she’s one of the kindest women to grace this earth.”

“Then what’s the issue?”

“Well… when she sees that you… look like you do, she’s going to you know, bug me about it.”

A knowing smirk appeared on his face. “You mean when she sees how devastatingly handsome I am she’ll want you to date me?”

A flush came upon my cheeks as I responded. “For lack of a better way to say that… sure. Whatever makes you feel good about yourself.”

“Well then I might just appreciate your mom’s help.”

“Help in what?”

“Dating you.”

As the words left his mouth my jaw dropped open and my heart began to race but as I was about to respond, I was interrupted by the sound of the garage door opening.

“Hi mom!” I called out.

“Hi sweetie!” She responded.

It was almost as if I could see her thought process as she walked in and her eyes fell upon Hyunjin. She was shocked at how attractive he was at first and my eyes jumped to his figure to see how he was feeling about the situation. Once again I was enraptured by his enigmatic aura and captivating eyes. When I glanced back at my mom, her eyes told me that she had not missed the way I had looked at Hyunjin and it made me nervous and embarrassed in an instant. Now that she had noticed my very obvious attraction to him, I knew she would try that much harder to get us together.  

I was surprised when Hyunjin confidently strode towards my mother and reached out his hand towards her.

“Hello ma’am, I’m Hyunjin. It’s nice to meet you.”

Instead of grabbing his outstretched hand, my mother pulled him into a warm hug. “Oh you are just too cute! It’s so nice to meet you.” I saw Hyunjin’s body immediately tense, before he relaxed into the hug and reached up to awkwardly pat my mom’s back. He looked shocked by the motherly affection I was used to having, and it was kind of sweet to see him interacting with arguably the most important person in my life. When she pulled away, she turned her head towards me and said, “Have you asked him if he wants to stay for dinner?”

“No, mom I haven’t.”

“I thought I had taught you better manners, (Y/N).” She scolded, but I knew she was not actually mad at me. “Hyunjin, would you like to stay for dinner? I’m making pasta.”

“Mom I’m pretty sure he’s busy-“

“I would love to ma’am, thank you.” Hyunjin said, interrupting me. I glared at him, upset that he was beginning to fully invade my life, but he took my glare and met it with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Oh, how wonderful! (Y/N) why don’t you two go and hang out for a while. But I’ll be vacuuming in the living room, so you’ll need to go to your room,” she said mischievously, sending me an extra conspicuous wink. “Mom…” I began, bothered by the forceful way she was trying to make me confront my own feelings. But then I felt a warm and comforting hand wrap around my own as Hyunjin said, “Let’s go (Y/N), your mother must be an extremely busy woman, we don’t want to distract her.” With a sigh, I let him pull me towards the stairs and when I peered over my shoulder, I could see my mom with a hand thrown across her mouth, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

As Hyunjin led me up the stairs, his warm hand still sending tingles through my body, I had mixed feelings about the situation, simultaneously feeling excitement course through my veins, as well as a distinct sense of anxiousness. I was becoming increasingly aware as time passed that I was quickly developing feelings for Hyunjin and feelings like these are truly unfamiliar territory for me. I have never been one to quickly fall in love, letting infatuation overtake my sensibilities. My sole focus has always been schoolwork and academic success, and everything else, including romantic relationships, has fallen to the wayside.

While I was in my practically catatonic trail of thoughts, Hyunjin looked back at me for direction. “(Y/N)... (Y/N),” he called, waving a hand in front of my face to snap me out of my own head. “Yeah?” I mumbled, still slightly dazed. “Where’s your room at?”

“Oh my room?” I questioned, a flush rising on my cheeks, “Oh umm yeah… it’s just right around the corner there.” As we walked over the threshold into my room I began to move around uncomfortably. I twiddled my thumbs and shifted my weight between my feet, not sure what to do with this Adonis of a man standing in my room. To my surprise, he fearlessly launched himself onto my bed and grabbed my TV remote from the bedside table. “Do you have Netflix? We can watch something,” he said, and then proceeded to pat the bed beside him, indicating that I should sit beside him. I nodded and hesitantly walked towards my bed, delicately seating myself on the very edge of the mattress.

Hyunjin looked over to my tense figure and chuckled. He began to scoot towards me, with a knowing smirk on his face. As he moved closer, I could barely remain seated on the bed. I was on the very edge of my precarious seat when, unexpectedly, he lunged towards me, sending me careening off the bed. In an attempt to keep myself from crashing to the ground in a heap, my hands reached out and grasped onto Hyunjin’s. Unfortunately, this did not prevent my fall but instead pulled the boy who began this along with me.

As my back hit the ground, I felt my breath leave my lungs in a rush of air. Before my body had time to fully register the impact, I felt a weight coming from above. As I cracked my eyes open I realized that Hyunjin had landed on top of me, his face only inches from mine. Before I could speak his hands were framing my face and tilting back and forth as if checking for any major injuries.

“(Y/N) are you okay? I’m so sorry I should have been more careful. Where are you hurt?” Instead of telling him that I had suffered no injuries, I became flustered by his nearness. He had not yet bothered to move, and my body was all too aware of his closeness. Afraid of what semi-coherent thoughts may come out of my mouth if I spoke, I bit down on my lip to keep these stray words from coming out and embarrassing me permanently.

When Hyunjin’s eyes landed on my lip in between my teeth, I could see his eyes darken and the temperature in the room felt like it skyrocketed. Our eyes made contact and I let my lip go from between my teeth with an audible pop. With a look of manic hunger in his eyes, Hyunjin let out a sigh and a barely decipherable “Fuck it,” before his lips fell on mine.

For a moment I was stunned into stillness. It was almost as if I had forgotten how to perform all of the major functions of my body. My heart stopped beating, my breaths stopped coming, and my lips had turned to stone. Frustrated with my lack of response, Hyunjin nipped at my bottom lip, trying to coax me into returning his affections. It worked, with my lips parting in a gasp, giving him a chance to kiss me deeper. I began to mirror his movements, falling into somewhat of a rhythm. As I gained confidence, I wound my arm up around his neck, running my fingers through his silky locks. His hand moved up to caress my face, making me feel cherished. While our lips continually met, he sat up, pulling me with him and onto his lap, so that I was straddling him. As we kissed, I fell deeper and deeper into the trap that was my feelings for Hyunjin. I knew at this point that there was no going back from what had happened tonight.

At some point I forgot where I was, how long we had been kissing, and my own name. It was just so easy to fall into the kiss and let my emotions run rampant. His kiss made me feel desired and wanted but never pressured to do anything further. As our breath ran out, we finally broke apart from the kiss. When we made eye contact an uncontrollable grin came on my face, a smile so wide, my cheeks strained. His face then reflected mine as he said, “My god, (Y/N), you put the brightest star in the sky to shame.” He stopped speaking but I could see in his eyes that there was more that he wanted to say. I reached up and pushed a stray hair out of his face. “What is it?”

He looked momentarily embarrassed, as if he was caught in the act of a crime. “I just… This might be too fast but… (Y/N), would you be my girlfriend?”

It felt like I had just won the lottery, a gold medal at the Olympics, and American Idol all at once. Even though I was overwhelmingly filled with joy at his question, there was still a whisper of doubt nagging at the back of my mind. I just couldn’t help but wonder why all this way happening. Why me and why now and why so quickly? Hyunjin could get pretty much any girl he wanted at our school, whether they were taken or not, and I was by no stretch of the word the prettiest girl at our school. I wanted so badly to just believe that Hyunjin truly liked me for me but that was a notion that I could barely wrap my head around. Gathering my courage, I decided to voice my concerns, instead of cutting myself off from him.

“I just was wondering something…” I mused, peering into his chocolatey eyes from my vantage spot on his lap. I could see that my comment made him nervous and I wanted to kiss away the little wrinkles that formed between his eyebrows while he worried. “Why me? I mean you could have practically any girl you wanted and I’m… I’m me. Nothing special, just your typical nerd but with possibly too much sarcasm. And I look like-” He cut me off in the middle of my self-deprecating rant.

“You look like the most extraordinarily attractive woman I have ever, and will ever, lay my eyes on. When you smile, my heart clenches and when we kissed… that’s a feeling that I will never grow tired of. But the most beautiful parts of you are the huge brain and heart you have. I have never met anyone as intelligent as you or as kind and loyal to your friends. The only fault I could ever find in you is that you don’t see all these beautiful things about yourself that I see. (Y/N) from the moment you woke me up in class and stomped all over my asshole front that I put up, I knew you would be someone I treasured forever, either as a friend or hopefully something more.”

My eyes began to well up with tears from his heartfelt confession. I had never felt so desired and treasured as I do now. It was at this moment that I knew I had my answer. “Hyunjin, I would be so honored to be your girlfriend,” I choked out before I burst into tears. He simply pulled me into his chest while I sobbed for all the insecurities that Hyunjin had begun to assuage.

Looking back at this moment, years later, I realize that this moment, along with the next year with Hyunjin, were the happiest times in my life. I lived in a state of constant bliss as I was showered with affection and reassurance.

The height of my happiness emphasized the severity of my heartbreak, when Hyunjin disappeared one night and in the past two years, has been gone from my life but never my heart.

#kpop #kpop smut #kpop fic #kpop imagines #kpop mafia au #kpop werewolf au #mafia au #werewolf au #stray kids #stray kids imagines #the boyz #the boyz imagines #hyunjin #juyeon #skz #tbz

[grovestep]

Ghostwatch: Chapter 2 [R76]

Title: Ghostwatch Chapter: 2 - Intermission Rating: M Ao3: Click here, remember to leave kudos! Summary:  Gabe, Jack and Ana plan their next episode, and employ the help of everyone's favorite cowboy.

Gabriel sat on the couch at Jack’s apartment, feet propped up on the coffee table and his laptop balanced on his knees. He worked on editing the Poltergeist House video while Ana and Jack bickered over the idea for the next episode. They were committed to posting a video a week, despite having jobs and classes to attend to. Sometimes, Gabe felt ran absolutely thin, but he loved his work. Filming and editing were two of Gabe’s passions.

He was thankful that he met the blond man from Indiana in one of his film courses. The guy stuck out like a sore thumb. Gabriel had figured he was a football player getting a creative arts credit in, but was pleasantly surprised when he found Jack was majoring in theater. He wasn’t a prodigy by any means, but Jack had an air about him that just commanded the camera. Ana was one of Jack’s best friends. Gabe was skeptic about how a finance major could be passionate about film (perhaps he bought into just a fewstereotypes), but Ana had a talent for special effects makeup, and never failed to impress him when they needed something bloody. She was the official co-host, and while not being as a commanding a presence as Jack, she gave as good as she got, and played one hell of a ghost.

He drummed his fingers on the touchpad of the laptop as the video processed. He felt good about the shots he managed to get, though this episode was strenuous to cut, edit and censor. He really needed to watch his copious use of the F-bomb in the moment. It only lead to more work later. It didn’t help that there was a giant purple phallus on the wall (that was not there when they checked the house).

Gabe sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face as he looked over his shoulder at Jack and Ana. Jack was gesticulating wildly, talking about Mothman.

“Jack, honey,” Ana said, her voice slow and pointed, like talking to a child. Gabe smirked. He knew Jack was in for it. “Mothman is from Virginia. We are in Los Angeles.”

“So?” Jack huffed, crossing his arms. He may as well have pouted his lip.

“So, we’d get more flack than praise for a California Mothman,” Gabe said. “Let the Virginians have their bug dude. You’re not fitting this ass in spandex.”

“Fine, then what’s your idea, huh?” Jack challenged.

Gabe stroked his goatee in thought, setting the laptop onto the coffee table. He got up to look at the idea board Jack had on the wall. It was covered in pictures, post-it notes, and push pins. They’d covered plenty of hauntings, alien encounters, the occasional cryptid.

“I don’t want another episode where one of us is the monster just yet,” he said. He ran his fingers over the corkboard, stopping at one of the images tacked there. “How about werewolves?” He pulled down the picture of a hulking, hairy beast.

Ana laughed, leaning back in her chair. “Gabe, werewolves? How is that not one of us dressing up?”

“Hear me out, pendejo,” he huffed. “There’s been reports of bizarre animal attacks up in Big Bear. It could be a two-part episode. The viewers eat that shit up.”

Jack steepled his fingers, leaning forward on his elbows. “Go on,” he said, drawing out the ‘o’ sounds.

“So, we take a trip up there. It gives me a chance to get some shots of the scenery and take a break from heavy editing,” Gabe said, going to sit with them around the kitchen table. “We get some exposition. Plant some footsteps, or pawsteps, or whatever.” He waved his hand. “Really set the mood and shit. Then we end on a cliffhanger.”

Ana still looked skeptical, her brow knit in thought. “Okay, but who will be the werewolf in the second part? It would be odd if one of us disappeared after being there for the first half.”

“We can get Jesse to do it. He’d barely need any makeup,” Gabe said.

“McCree? The guy that talks and dresses like he’s in a John Wayne film?” Jack asked incredulously. He leaned forward farther, encroaching on Gabe’s personal space. “The guy who is still undeclared in our junior year?”

“Can you name a better werewolf, Jackie? Or are you volunteering?” Gabe asked, leaning forward to challenge Jack in his space.

Jack elevated his chin, keeping eye contact with Gabe. He grit his teeth. He knew that Gabe was right, but he didn’t want to admit it. The editor drove him up a wall and challenged him at every corner. Sometimes he just wanted to punch that sly smirk off his face.

Gabe was relentless. He wanted Jack to know that just because he was gorgeous (come on, anyone with eyes could see that) and the head of the trio, he didn’t get final say in everything. Gabriel had dealt with plenty of his kind. While he wasn’t a jock, he was still that type of person that thought he could bat his stupid blue eyes and get people to conform to his will.

Ana sighed, rolling her eyes. “Are you two done posturing?” she asked, waving a hand in front of her nose. “It reeks of testosterone in here.”

“Once Jack stops being a diva,” Gabe said. He crossed his arms, eyes never leaving the blond.

“Me? A diva?” Jack said, clutching a hand over his heart. “I’m hurt, really.”

Gabe reached out and flicked Jack’s nose, making him scrunch up his face. The tension dissolved as quick as it arose.

They bickered more than she and Jack did. They were both so passionate and sure of themselves, it was natural for those energies to clash every so often. Ana loved how they could have a heated argument, then reset like nothing happened. Even if they were to beat the hell out of each other, they’d end up laughing it off.

Jack grunted, crossed his arms, and leaned back in his chair. Gabe took it as a victory. He poked his tongue out at Jack, who flipped him off.

“So, Jesse is our werewolf?” Ana asked.

“On one condition,” Jack said.

Gabe quirked an eyebrow. “Let me guess. So long as he dresses up as a werewolf and climbs into bed with you?”

Jack’s face reddened. “N-No! Why would you say something like that?” he stammered. “I was going to say so long as we can use his van to drive up there!”

Ana pulled a disgusted face. “Let me get this straight. You had an issue with Jesse coming, but you have no issue climbing into the back of his van. His van that smells like stale Pabst, cheap cigars, and In-n-Out?”

Jack put his hands up, the blush on his cheeks slowly dissipating, “Hey. If you want to use a ride service to get there, feel free. Sorry, Gabe, but your motorcycle and my shitty junker aren’t going to cut it.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t totaled your pickup,” Gabe grumbled under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Gabe said. “We leave for the forest this weekend, then.”

--

Getting Jesse on board was easy. Gabe showed up to his dorm room with a case of beer (carefully smuggled in) and a box of cigars. He knocked on the door. There was a clatter and a groan from the other side before the scruffy face of Jesse McCree peered out at him.

“Oh, hey Gabe,” he drawled. He was shirtless and clad in boxers, his cowboy hat casting his face in shadow. His eyes immediately landed on the six pack tucked under the editor’s arm. “Whatcha need this time?” he asked, opening the door to reveal his room.

It never failed to make Gabe balk. The man lived in chaos. There were clothes, beer cans, and fast food detritus everywhere. Jesse clicked his tongue, taking the beer from Gabe. “C’mon, now. You always look like yer about to implode every time ya stop by.”

“Jesse, there is a pair of underwear on the ceiling fan.”

“Oh, that there is,” Jesse said, snatching the boxers down and tossing them into the corner.

“What does your roommate think?”

“Who, Genji? Half this stuff is his,” Jesse said, kicking aside a pair of neon green boxers before plopping down on his bed. He pulled one of the cans from the plastic rings, cracking it open. He tipped the can toward Gabe. “So, what can I do for ya?”

“Well, uh…we need a werewolf for the shoot this weekend,” Gabe said, sitting beside Jesse, careful not to touch any of the stains on the sheets.

“Werewolf, huh?” Jesse stroked his beard, taking a long sip of the beer. “Dunno if a six pack a’ Blue Moon is gonna cut it.”

Gabe sighed, taking the pack of cigars out of his pocket. He threw them into Jesse’s lap. The cowboy beamed, turning the pack over in one hand. “You know me good, Reyes. You got yourselves a werewolf.”

“We also need your van.”

“Figured. Wasn’t no way Jack would have me along without my baby. How is Jackie boy doin’, anyhow?” Jesse asked, watching Gabe out of the corner of his eye.

Gabe flexed his jaw and crossed his arms. “He’s good. Still an asshole. Still stupidly good looking,” he said measuredly, unsure what Jesse was looking for.

“Sooo...you tapped that yet?”

Gabe thought he might actually combust. His face heated and he tugged his beanie down over his ears, hiding their red sheen. He glared at Jesse, who was smiling around the rim of his can.

“Fuck off,” Gabe snapped. “Jack is just an asshole friend who happens to be hot, like you.”

Jesse raised his arms and shrugged his shoulders. “I’m flattered, doll. But if you don’t, I will.”

Gabe snorted, rolling his eyes, “Jack wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole. It was hard enough convincing him to let you come.”

Jesse winked, crumpling the now empty can in one hand. “He just ain’t seen me lay on the charm.”

“Have at him, cowboy. I bet he shoots you down the first time you wink at him,” Gabe sneered.

“You got a bet,” Jesse said, punching Gabe in the arm. Gabe smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

—

The back of Jesse’s van smelled like bad decisions. The white panel van was painted with a desert mural on one side, while the other had “It’s High Noon” scrawled in towering font. The back of the van had shag carpeting that reeked, and the only seating was the front bench made of peeling red vinyl. Gabe was crammed in the back alongside Ana and their equipment. Jack was at the wheel, not trusting Jesse to get them there without a near-death experience. Jesse rode shotgun, not trusting Jack to drive his baby.

And, Gabe thought, to “lay on the charm.”

Jesse leaned close to Jack, talking in hushed tones. To Gabe’s surprise, Jack smiled and laughed.

“Gabe, you’re brooding,” Ana said, resting a hand on Gabe’s shoulder. Gabe grit his teeth, prying his eyes away from Jesse’s courting. He looked at Ana, who had one eyebrow cocked at him.

He rolled his eyes. “What? I brood. It’s what I do. When am I not brooding?”

“I can name a few instances,” she said.

Gabe held his tongue. He ran his hand across the dingy shag carpeting. He tried not to think of what was hiding in between the pieces of red fabric. He looked back at Ana. “He’s winning the bet.”

“What bet?”

Gabe cast a glance at the duo, making sure they were too busy to pay them any attention. “I bet Jesse that Jack would turn him down as soon as he even tried any of that charm shit.”

Ana rolled her eyes. “Never make a bet with that man, Gabe. He’s been gambling since he popped out of the womb.”

A sudden crooning came from the front seat. Jesse had his feet propped up on the dash, a cigar in his mouth and his head back. He belted out the lyrics to Hound Dog at the top of his lungs. Jack laughed along and tapped his fingers to the beat. Ana couldn’t help but laugh. She clapped a hand over her mouth.

Shoot me, Gabriel mouthed. He fell back onto the carpet, the film equipment prodding into his back.

“Jack, you better stop at the next scenic pull-off before Gabe melts into the shag,” Ana said over Jesse’s raucous singing.

Jack gave a thumbs-up in the rearview mirror.

When they came to a halt, Gabriel threw open the back doors, almost throwing himself over the side of the cliff that overlooked LA. He scowled at Jesse as he loped over to the edge. Gabe briefly debated pushing the cowboy off.

He decided murder wasn’t something he was prepared to go to jail for and grabbed his camera from the back of the van instead. He toyed with some of the settings before turning it on and panning across the view. If they had had more time, he would have loved to do a timelapse.

Gabe shooed McCree out of the shots, since he was supposed to be their werewolf. He got a shot of Ana leaning over the rails, looking off into the distance while her hair blew in the wind. She turned toward the camera and smiled, as though she had been caught. It made Gabe grin from ear to ear.

He panned the camera to Jack. He looked like a Boy Scout troop leader. All blond hair and blue eyes and tanned skin. He sat on the rail with his legs dangled over the side. Gabe was afraid he might fall, but the blond man had a sure grip on the rail. He leaned back on his hands and tossed Gabe a look over his shoulder. It was a cocky grin, one he was used to when they were getting into trouble.

Ana pressed into Gabe’s side and craned her head to look at the digital image projected on the camera’s screen. She smiled and pinched his side. “Your turn,” she said as she took the camera from him. Gabe shot her a glare, but didn’t argue. He disliked being on camera, but couldn’t object to making a cameo in some B-roll shots.

He leaned against the rails beside Jack. He took out a cigarette and lit it up. The smoke wraithed around his face and obscured his features. He smirked at the camera as he flicked his ashes toward Jack, who laughed and took a jab at Gabe’s shoulder. Careful not to send Jack sailing over the side, he grabbed the back of Jack’s shirt and gave him a tug. Jack lost his balance and tumbled back onto the ground. He glared up at Gabe, who was taking another drag from his cig.

Jack grabbed Gabe’s ankles and yanked them out from under him. Gabe landed on his ass with a momentous thump.

“Smoking kills!” Jack said between gasps of laughter.

“Yea, and I’ll kill you after that!” Gabe said and flicked his cigarette to the side. He grappled with jack on the ground, getting him in a headlock. Jack bit his arm, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to make Gabe wince. “Hey, that’s dirty!” he laughed, not relenting his grip.

“Like you fight clean,” Jack said through grit teeth.

“Tell me in the best editor ever and I’ll let you go,” Gabe said, unaffected by Jack’s squirming.

Jack huffed, his hands in Gabe’s arms in an attempt to pry them off. His eyes flicked up to Ana, who was still rolling. He bit the inside of his cheek and grumbled.

“What was that, Jackie?”

“You’re the best editor…” Jack said louder.

“Ever.”

“Ever,” Jack sighed and rolled his eyes.

Gabe released Jack, earning a punch to his arm. Jack rubbed his neck and laughed through his nose. Gabe gave him a shit-eating grin and flipped him off.

Jesse leaned against the van, one leg propped up while he puffed on his cigar. He watched the two tussle with an easy grin. Jesse had competition, whether Gabe realized it or not.

#r76 #reaper76 #morreyeson #overwatch #jack morrison #gabriel reyes #ana amari #Jesse McCree #Genji Shimada #overwatch fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #ghosts #cryptids #AU #alternate universe #ghost hunting AU #overwatch AU

[roslinfanatic]

Post WWSRD

So many of us listened to the podcast What Would Sharon Raydor Do?

I waited to write until today because I wanted to take time to really reflect on what Mary said, and I wanted to process my thoughts some more.

I am still really upset over Sharon being killed off. I am also still really angry.

I respect Mary so much for being so defensive about Sharon and about the show. I love how she is so defensive about the cast and wanting us to finish the series to see their work. I also love how she defended the cast and was angry that people were angry at the cast.

I'd like to say I agree. I feel like no matter what has happened or will happen none of the cast deserves our anger.

James duff does but for the right reasons.

Mary made valid points about the way Sharon died. It was James prerogative to end her how he wanted. Her dying in the middle of questioning someone is unexpected and is very true to the real world experience. People randomly drop dead all the time.

I can say that I'm not angry that Sharon died, or the actual way she died.

I'm angry because James continuously lied to the fans. He kept saying he was going to write really great stuff to show case Mary and he kept referencing how we would get to see some of the old Sharon and that didn't happen.

First off I'd like to say I was unimpressed with the writing because it was unoriginal. Mary as Laura died right after being happy and having all she wanted, Sharon died after getting everything wanted and being happy for like two seconds. Also Sharons illness and collapsing the way she did was exactly like in both versions of Beaches.

It wasn't just the writing though that really angered me it was simply down to how little of Sharon was shown. Marys acting was amazing and her talent was showcased with the death scene, and all of the collapsing she had to do. She wasn't truly showcased though.

Sharon was suppose to be the lead of the show and yet we never saw anything we wanted to. Everything was focused on Rusty and the cases. All the cases were pretty much ran by the other members of the decision and Sharon just watched. She barely contributed in my opinion.

Also her and Andy's whole relationship always bugged me. Don't get me wrong I wanted Sharon to fall in love and be happy, but its always bothered me how quickly that progressed. Andy hated her during The Closer and then seemed to do a 180 and tolerate her when she became the boss. Then all of a sudden they were dating. We never saw them date, we didn't even see them being closer at work, and then they were living together. I won't even talk about the engagement cuz we all we were all pissed at what we didn't get to see. Then the wedding that had all the hype. James talked about us finally getting what we wanted, and again he lied. We dodnt get vows or anything truly related to Sharon. We saw the bridesmaids interacting, we saw Olivia singing which was greay Marys daughter was apart of it, and we even saw the new Chief and detective interacting which I don't get why they were even there. ( side note I really love olivias music and liked her singing) i feel like this all took away from Sharon.

I also hate how much Sharon changed from her days on The Closer. I get we were getting to see a softer side of her and seeing her motherly side, but let's be real I don't see how her work persona changed so drasticslly.

Sharon was not social and was very meticulous with her cases. She was cold and distant and that was due to her place in F.I.D. after being there as long as she was there is no way she would be super social and hugging her coworkers.... not to mention by the rule book Raydor would not start dating a coworker who reported to her without major conversations about boundaries at work.

I feel like the bad ass rule book Captai was replaced by someone so different, and that we were denied the opportunity to see her again before she died. The scene with her calling out The Cheif was great but again it was 2 seconds of 2 hours. That is why I am angry and heartbroken.

I'm not angry at her death or angry that it happened when there are more episodes left. I'm angry because I feel like Captain Sharon Raydor disappeared a long time ago, and I was waiting to see her one last time.

I feel like I was cheated. I feel like my favorite character was taken from me and I never got closure. These last 4 episodes won't change that. These last four episodes will center around the death of a character who I am not mourning. I am not mourning commander raydor who was loving to everyone, super social, and who was more faith based than logical. I am mourning the loss of Captain Sharon Raydor who was a bad ass cop. She was smart as a whip and made logical decisions but had unwavering faith, had an ice cold stare that scared the crap out of you, wore amazing power suits, and had a voice that oozed power.

I am sorry for the long post again but I felt I needed to explain more in depth where my anger is coming from.

I love the show and I love Mary and all the other cast members. For me I dont think I can watch the final four episodes. Not because I don't want to support the cast but because I can't say goodbye to this version of Sharon.

I want a proper goodbye for my Captian Raydor.

#major crimes tnt #major crimes #captain sharon raydor #sharon raydor #mary mcdonnell

[sending-the-message]

A major Kentucky soft drink is made from PEOPLE by KyBlu_I_s

Yup. That's what I said. The Kentucky soft drink known as Ale8 is made of people. Liquefied filtered people. And I drink six a day. Have for years. Thousands of Kentucky natives drink this stuff everyday. Thing is, I stopped when I found their " special ingredient". Everyone else, unknowingly continued to drink people. For a while..

It was a cool May morning when I received the email It was from the Kentucky board of Health and Human Services. This is the entire email.

" To the charge of The Kentucky Office of Paranomalies,

Dear sir or ma'am, I write this to you to inform you of an atrocity. The manufacturer of Ale Eight soft drinks has been found to be using people to make their flagship beverage. Not like people make it, like its made OF people. It always has been, but it was only recently discovered.

I was this years poor gopher that was sent to the plant to take quality control and satisfaction samples from each batch in progress. The first test, I thought that I had contaminated the test vial. However when all twenty eight tests showed biologic contamination, I was convinced. I took samples to an I dependant lab and had them analyze the contents. They reported that the samples I gave to them had been made from eighty three percent human DNA, 10 percent ginger and seven percent assorted fruits. I tried to tell my superiors but they refuse to listen. The sickest part is that when I told them, they didn't act surprised. THEY KNEW. They had to have known. They simply told me that they would handle it and that I was to ignore the test results. That's it. Two hours later the office memo said that the beverage company had again passed with 100% quality and safety standard being met. It was also released to the general public that the soft drink was now all natural. How the living hell is human soft drink a natural substance??

Can you please help. Look into it, dig for the answers. Just please help us. God help us, my children used to drink that stuff.

Penny "

That was it. Attached to the email was copies of the test results and the analysts notes. They were truly disturbing. Utterly disgusting. It seems that the company owned by the original founding family was using dehydrated human bodies mixed into their purified water to add a "bracing pep'" to their product. Its been around since the 1800's, and almost certainly has always used human juice as an ingredient.

I called to my team to assemble in the bull pen. When one of my guys walked in holding an Ale 8 I almost chucked. I felt hot bitter bile rising to the back of my throat. I had a hell of a time choking it back. The officer in question was utterly shocked when I yelled at him to stop drinking that shit and pour it out.

" Sir, we all drink it. What's the problem with it now? You were..." I interrupted him to say " Yeah, I drank one last night. But today I know that there's fucking PEOPLE IN THAT SHIT!!!!!!" I yelled the last four words.

The officer first looked like a deer in the headlights, then, thinking it was a prank he started to laugh and take another drink. He stopped laughing when I jerked the glass bottle from his hand and smashed it on the floor. I pulled the email up on the large monitor, and he read it while turning ghostly white. Before he could read too much of it, he ran off. We could hear him throwing up from his quarters.

I told my men that we were going to accept this case and that we were leaving then and now. We hadn't any other choice. Like the email had said, children drink this stuff. Thousands of people drink it everyday. I have to wonder though, how did they mask the taste of us into a pop that tasted so damn good? Huh, I would have to ask them I thought.

We had no fucking clue what to expect, so we loaded for bear. We packed C-4 RDX TNT fifty caliber automatic machine guns, 9mn SMGs hand grenades flash grenades, stun guns dart guns and sedative darts and claymore mines. We were prepared to demolish the entire factory if we had to, and then fake a media release about a recall on the product. See, even if we stopped the plant from making more, millions of bottles and cans were already on shelves across the entire state, and in a few places in other states. I rode in the passenger seat as Keith drove to Winchester. I frantically typed on my lap top trying to word the media release in a manner in which relayed the gravity of the situation, without actually telling everyone they were drinking people.

We arrived at the plant and walked in the visitors entrance. " Hi! Welcome to the Ale Eight Beverage manufacturing facility! How can we help you today?" Chirped an obese red haired desk worker, as we approached. Warm,bright sunlight poured through the glass ceiling of the lobby as I tried to explain to the woman that we were federal employees, and needed to see the president of the company. She nodded and smiled as I talked, and then said " Well, if you gentlemen would just have a seat, I will ring the President and inform him he has visitors. Would you like some complimentary Ale Eights while you wait?"

" No. No thank you." I swear to you we all said it at the exact same time. The chubby red head looked at me, cocked her head towards the small seating area and picked up a phone and began talking in hushed tones. Every few seconds of her talking she would calmly look over at us and continue her conversation. After almost fifteen minutes, she hung the phone up, stood and walked over to us.

" Please, follow me. The president has agreed to a meeting, but its going to be a few minutes. He insists that you gentlemen take a short tour while you wait, so you can see the way we pride ourselves on the quality and taste of Ale Eight. Follow me." She said and waved a chubby hand at us to follow her, as she waddled her double wide ass down the hallway toward the factory floor.

We entered the refrigerated factory and stood there looking around as the woman yammered on about choice ingredients, filtered water, and the secret blend of fruit and special seasonings that have been the same since the first bottle was produced. About how the filters they used removed 100% of everything from the water that they ordered from a special spring in the state. In fact, everything except the ginger was sourced from right here in Kentucky. Home town pride and all!!!!..

We nodded and ohhed and ahhed in all the right places. I asked if it would be possible to zee the blending room.

" Oh, no, I am so so sorry. The blending room is completely off limits. The only people that go in there are the President and the janitors. The president comes in and adds the special fruits and spices that made up the secret portion of the secret family recipe. So, again, no. That's not at all possible." She scoffed as she waddled us towards the mixing room, where the filtered water, ginger caffeine and the secret mix were blended in huge stainless steel vats.

Again, she stopped and talked about the cleanliness if the production process, the quality of everything they used and the secret mix. Like making sure things were clean would make up for the fact that people were being added to the mix.

The tour ended in the bottling room, where assembly lines carried empty bottles, and cans to a machine that would fill, and top each one. One in every fifty cans or bottles was randomly ejected from the line for quality checks and measurements. Chubby said that's his they maintain a 100% perfect product.

My men and I gave a small polite and quiet round of applause to the workers, unsure if they knew what they were doing. We were then lead to the Presidents meeting room, where we were asked to again sit and wait. Fuck, I thought the days of " Hurry up and wait," were behind me when I left the standard tanks of the Services. Wrong. Here we sat, waiting.

"Sir.."

"Sshh!" I then types into my phone and sent a group message saying that we had no idea if the meeting room was bugged for the head sicko to hear what's said. We couldn't risk him knowing we knew. The only thing in our side was the element of surprise.

After fifteen minutes, a tall dark haired man in a black suit and thin wire glasses walked in the room, with a large, obviously fake smile, " Hello gentlemen, I am Mr. Wainscott, The great great grandson of the founder of this wonderful wonderful place. He started mixing Ale Eight in his home, selling it to locals. It took right off and was an instant Kentucky favorite."

His well practiced speech sounded like a damn commercial. It was probably. He told that story to put people at ease, and to make folks forget that they hadn't a clue what was actually in the drink.

We forced small talk for a while, and then it happened. I saw him blink. I don't mean he blinked his eyes vertically, he blinked from side to side. Like some fucking lizard. Well, close any way. When I saw that, I must have jumped or made a face, because he instantly tried to stand up and leave the room. He knew we were close to finding out what he truly was. Of course we had no fucking idea. None at all.

The man was surprisingly strong for somebody of his small stature. I mean, he was five foot eight at the tallest and weighed a hundred forty pounds max. However he was able to nearly lift me off the ground with a single punch to the ribs. I regained my footing, and pulled my right arm back and down as far as I could, preparing to deliver my hardest punch straight to this guys chin. See, what most people fail to understand, is that a good solid punch to the tip of the chin most usually results in a one punch knock out. The shock causes the brain to actually contact the skull and it hurts enough to put you out. However as my fist flew towards this guys chin, he smiles. A shit eating Cheshire cat grin. He opened his mouth and I think he would have bitten my hand off if Keith hadn't tackled him to the ground and subdued him with a healthy blast of a taser to the side of his neck.

The inhuman Mr. Wainscott laid there, unconscious with a spreading puddle of what I thought to be urine. Then I noticed it was carbonated. The thing had expelled ginger ale from his body. I was suddenly very I'll as it started to click together in my mind.

" Cuff and gag him Keith. Then tie him to the rolling chair so we can move him. Jefferies, open that window, go to my Humvee and bring the weapons. Take Haskins with you. One man won't be able to carry all them. Now go, quick."

The two men silently and very proficiently opened the window, climbed over the wall and ran to the Humvee parked about twenty feet away. They had the bags and were coming in the window in less than a minute and a half. Again, silently climbing in the room. We all grabbed our go to, Keith, a heavy ass full auto, a .243 if memory serves, personally, I wanted a bit of stealth, so I quickly spun the silencer onto the barrel of my Sig Sauer 9mm. A few of the guys perfered non lethal rounds, and decided on a shotgun that shot hard rubber balls, used for crowd control and prison riots, and some chose the damnable dart guns, loaded with sedative darts.

I got behind the chair holding the president of the company, held my pistol to the side of his neck, and started walking out. I stopped before going through the large cherry wood stained double doors that led to the hallway.

"Shit. Does anyone know where the phone junction is on the outside of the building? And Haskins, deploy the cellular interruption satellite. Now, we can't have the damn locals fucking this up. We still aren't sure what's going on here."

As Haskins set up a small quad copter drone that would fly to the roof, drop one small black box on each corner and kill cellular service, Keith informed me that he remembered the location of the landline junction, and silently carried his giant frame out the window to cut the lines.

" Keith, copy?" I whispered into the com's.

" Copy, what's up boss? I'm almost there, hold on," I could hear rustling and the sound of hard plastic breaking, followed by " got it. On my way back in".

When Keith was back inside, and Haskins drone had dropped its payload, and they had been activated, we continued out of the meeting room. It suddenly occurred to me that we had no clue where to look, and we couldn't risk anyone actually seeing us and getting away.

" Keith, Haskins, Jefferies, do we have anything that will knock all of the employees out, and allow us to remain awake?"

A second later Keith delivered a startling answer" Well, Gunney, I can do something that will put them out, but they all need to hear my voice, and you guys can't." He pauses, and points up before going on, " look, they have a P.A. system, I just need to get to the damn microphone."

I sent Haskins with Keith, to find the aforementioned PA systems microphone. The rest of us continued to the presidents office. Slowly creeping down the hallways, and making sure we went along, unseen. The office was at the end of the east wing, and we were still in the middle of the south wing. We needed to cover about two hundred feet of hallway and doors with windows, before getting to his office, unnoticed. Difficult, sure. Impossible, hell no.

We only had to subdue one person on the way. A janitor had been leaving the restroom, and caught us so as he turned and took a breath, he was shot in the neck by a sedative laden dart. He tumbled like a brick building, making a loud thud as he hit the floor, already snoring. I drug his body back into the bathroom, propped him on a toilet, closed the stall door, locked it and climbed over and jumped to the floor. We made it the rest of the way unscathed. As we entered his office the unconscious president started to wake up.

I shut the door quietly, and looked up, there was a single speaker in the room, and I shot it with my silenced pistol. Couldn't risk hearing Keith through the ear plugs we always carried. As the president started to struggle, Keith came over the com's with a whisper " Count from thirty backwards and then take the plugs out. I will count to twenty and start. If you hear me you will go out for a while. Go, now"

We obeyed. The president was still fighting his restraints as we all pressed our ear plugs into out ear canals. We counted backwards after counting to twenty, just to be sure that we didn't catch any stray words. I knew it was successful because the president stopped struggling.

A few seconds later we removed our plugs, and I sent a whisper out in the com units, "Keith, Haskins, you all good? Come back?"

" Yeah, were all good Gunney. We should have about four hours before anyone wakes up. We are on the way to the prez's office."

When they finally got to the office we started to dig through the computers, the file cabinets his desk and his briefcase. Nothing. Not a damn thing. It was at that moment that I noticed the marks on the floor of the office. In the middle of the wall was a light semi circle mark, just barely visible on the beige carpet if the office. It was apparent that there was a door hidden in the wall, and we hoped to get a few answers from whatever lay behind it. After not finding an easy way to open it, I make the call. I tell Basking to blow the damn door off with a small charge of C4.

The rest of us exit the office, as Haskins placed the charge and prepared to blow down the while fucking wall if need be. He scurried out of the office, took a knee and stuck his fingers in his ears, and we all followed suit. The explosion was audible , but not what any of us were expecting. We glanced, at one another starting to think maybe Haskins hadn't used enough plastique. Oh, he did. We opened the door, and smoke and dust billowed out in a huge choking cloud. The desk was shattered, the file cabinets busted open and the papers turned to shreds. The carpet, walls and ceiling tiles all smoldered and burned.

" Damn Haskins! Helluva job man. That poor defenseless door never stood a chance!" I said, sending a small wave of nervous laughter through the men. We walked through the new hole in the office wall into a dark room lined with acoustic foam. On one wall of the room, a dozen identical suits hung. Under the hanging suits, silver cans of some unknown pressurized gas sat, looking like shiny silver jet packs straight from a comic book illustration. On the opposite wall, was several rubber masks of the presidents face, each consisting of hair, brows, lashes, neck and even chest hair at the bottom of the neck. Beneath each mask was gloves that looked like makes hands. This wasn't the weirdest thing in there either.

In the far wall, was a medical gurney. On the gurney lay a corpse. Dead and dry, like they had been dehydrated. Almost to the point of turning to dust. Sticking from the poor woman's body were fourteen hoses and lines, each leading to a different silver collection tank. Her cause of death wasn't blatantly obvious. No stab wounds, no bullet holes, nothing. For all we knew the woman was killed by the machinery that drained her fluids.

To say that I was furious would have been a massive understatement. I was seething with an anger that was so string it hurt. I wanted blood. I walked out of the macabre room, and shook the unconscious president.

" Gunney, he won't wake up for you. I have to do it. If you want him awake, let me know."

" I want him the fuck awake Keith, now."

Keith nodded in acknowledgement, and walked to the sleeping man, and whispered something into his ear, and then abruptly slapping the man across the back of the head.

The president woke up and started fighting the cuffs, and tried to scream through his tie that had been shoved into his mouth and taped there with duct tape.

" Shut up fuck face." " The only god damned thing I want from you is answers. " I hissed, as I drug my razor sharp combat blade against the man things throat. " If I feel that you are lying to me, I will cut your fucking head off. You understand me?" Nod. " Good, if I slice your throat and take your head off, will it kill you?" Another nod. " Good. If I take off the gag, will you stay quiet?" Yet another nod.

I cut the tape, and ripped the tie from his mouth. He breathed a large sigh of relief. As I squared down to be at eye level with him. It. Whatever.

" What are you? No, wait. What is your family? I mean, you're not human, right?"

" I, we, are not from this planet. We are from a completely different universe. My father came here three hundred years ago, and I was born here. We live longer than you. I have been here, in this city for one hundred and fifty years. I am the founder of the company."

" That's where you're from. That's not WHAT YOU ARE!" I yell, and press the blade into the skin of his neck, slicing through the rubber, exposing the grey, crêpe skin underneath.

" Okay! You're species calls us the Greys. Originally we lived on a planet named Quanzta we found the earth of the other universe, quite by accident. My Father and his father crashed there as they were taking a vacation. Once they landed, they quickly noticed the atmosphere was hospitable to our type. They called for the others to send ships and family to set up colonies. See, that earth was far, far behind this one. Humans hadn't evolved yet. We took the planet as our own. Then, in an attempt to fix an atmospheric irregularity that we caused, my Father tore a small hole in space time. He and my mother gathered their slaves and servants, and escaped to this place. When they arrived they noticed that Humans were the prevalent species. We found ways to assimilate. Then, we found that something in your DNA was like a drug to us. It gives us a pleasant buzz, almost like what you feel from..what is it...pot."

I listened intently to his story, and shuddered and seethed with rage as he talked about how they accidentally discovered the fact while they dined. They fucking ate us. Then, when people became more civilized, they needed a way to continue getting high without anyone noticing. Slowly Wainscott worked his formula til it was perfect. The added human DNA would give his species a killer high, and be undetectable to us.

" How many of your kind is here Wainscott?"

" Well, see...I don't really know. When my family came here, they released their servants and slaves, and we all started to reproduce, like what you say bunnies. Would you please take thus face off if me now?"

I did. I had to admit I was curious as to what they really looked like. I was surprised at how he did look, but not because he was so fugly or whatever. They looked a lot like us, except their skin was ever so slightly scaly and grainy. He had a nose, small and puggish, not like ours. His eyes, large almond shaped black holes in his skin, with lids that shut from side to side. Internal eye lids. No lids on his face, just the internal ones. Freaky. Sharpened teeth protruded from his mouth, and a forked tongue flicked out like a snake eating a fucking bug.

" Thank you. Those things are like wearing a plastic bag on my head. We all wear them. Hell, we make them from our molted skin. The hair comes from barber shops, and salons. Now, why are you here? What have I done to garner your wrath in such a manner?"

" Dude, y'all fucking not only drank human beings, you fucking made it so that thousands of people drank the same thing. You sick fucks fed us to each other. I can not allow that to happen. Its going to stop, and now..."

" But wait, if my kind doesn't get the buzz they're looking for they'll start to kill humans for pleasure. It will get us all exterminated! You can't do this! Stop!!"

" That's fine, I will kill all if you I see."

" No, please wait, I can pa..."

His words cut short, as I slit his throat deep enough to expose the equivalent to a human spinal cord. His heart continued to pump, spurting thick green ooze that served as blood for them. It slowly started to pump less, and less, the spurts getting smaller and smaller. Then it stopped all together.

" Listen up men, his body goes to the mix room, and from there we set triggers to blow the entire place to the ground. No inhuman survivors. If you cut the neck just a tiny bit, the alien won't bleed. So check all of the workers. The ones that are human, load into a truck trailer on the docks, and pull the truck to the end of the parking lot. I gotta send the media release, sighting a contamination that got through, allowing for human waste to enter the final product before being bottled. Nobody will want to drink that. Y'all go, check for humans, evacuate them, Keith and I will place the charges."

The rest of the men ran out, two dragging the dead alien into the mixing room, as Keith and I began to set the RDX and C4 charges in strategic locations throughout the plant, insuring it would every bit be destroyed. I made a calm to SecNav, to set it up for the local fire and police departments to rule the explosion an accident, and to be sure that the company couldn't be started back.

" You know, Keith, I didn't ask if it had children or a wife...I wonder what's going to come out of the wood work after us for this?"

" Don't know, don't care Gunney. Let em come"

We quickly placed the charges, and gathered beside the rig filled with the human workers. I turned to the crew, and asked " How many were alien guys?"

After being assured all of the workers, minus the chubby redhead were human, I called for clear and hit the detonator button, causing the large factory to implode on itself in a glorious and terrifying manor.

As the police were arriving, firetrucks following, we were pulling onto the free way, heading back to the office. As we drove away, an empty glass bottle rolled out from under the seat. An ale eight bottle. It hadn't been there when we arrived...

" Keith, what the..."that's when my world went black, I was able to hear the sirens for a second, then nothing

#reddit #nosleep #scary #story

[paranoid-fighter]

Chapter 7: Gabe teaches | Jesse learns

And Jack laments

Author’s notes: 1) My apologies for the delay - between work and my own health, it’s been hard to sit and write.  2) Feedback is welcome and appreciated 3) I hope you enjoy this chapter. 

Update: Here is the table of contents for the Gabriel Reyes stories: http://paranoid-fighter.tumblr.com/overwatchReyes

Word count: 4840-ish Overwatch and all its characters and settings are property of Blizzard. Original characters belong to me. 

Reyes nodded calmly. In truth, he wanted nothing more than to scream. He wanted to tell Jesse to run far away from the base and to never look back. He wanted to keep him safe from the disaster that he and Jack were about to unleash. He wanted to spare him from the fate that he had just brought upon himself. He knew that Jesse had just signed his life away...

...and he had given him the pen.

   "Good man," Gabe said; his voice was filled with a resolve that he himself did not have. "May I see your phone, Jesse?" "My phone?" Jesse raised an eyebrow as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He handed it over to his commander without question but sputtered in surprise as Gabe quickly took the case apart and removed the battery. "Boss! What're you doing?" "Now we can talk freely." Gabriel met Jesse's gaze. "Jesse, Jack, take note of the time. Ten thirty seven on Tuesday the 24th. If anyone asks, we were discussing a drill that will be conducted upon the Blackwatch base. It will be a security drill where a red team will infiltrate the base, with the end goal of breaking into my office. Do we all understand?" "Yes." Jack nodded. "Boss, I don't--" "Jesse, memorize what I just told you. In case anyone asks what we just discussed at this time, we all need to keep to the same story." He ran a hand down his face. "What Jack and I are planning is treason, on a global scale. We're trying to keep to a specific story for now, to avoid any and all suspicion if we start getting questioned.” He gestured down to the disassembled phone. “At this point, I don't trust our phones to not be bugged." He watched as Jesse stared in horror at his phone. "If we're caught," Gabe continued, "we'll be lucky if all they do is kill us." The commander ran a hand down his tired face. "Jack will be buying us new phones - they will have only two numbers in it. We will be able to communicate with each other on those phones. Anything related to this," he waved a hand between himself and Jack, "will only be discussed on those phones. If someone sees the phone we will give you, you must let us know and then confiscate the phone. It will be used to only communicate with us or anyone else that we explicitly involve." "It should go without saying," Jack met Jesse's gaze, "that no one else knows about this, nor will they. Do not tell anyone about this unless we both tell you to involve them. This is to be handled with the utmost secrecy--" "What?!" Jesse spluttered as he looked between them. "What the fuck are you two goin' on about? Look at you! You're talkin' like spies! I don't get it. What's hap--" "Jesse," Gabe sat up in bed as he looked to the young soldier, "you know exactly what this is about. You have seen the reports on my desk, I know you have. I made sure you saw them." "Well, yeah, but..." He sat back in his chair as he tried to get his thoughts to stop spiraling. "I went from agreein' to helpin' you to findin' out about treason. I mean, I ain't a stranger to that, but..." He shook his head. "You're sayin' that all the shit Overwatch has done, that we've done, hasn't been for, y'know, the benefit of the world?" Jesse blinked at the naivety of his own words before shaking his head again. "Ain't no one free from corruption, huh?"

  "No, no they are not." Jack sighed. "I had my suspicions, but Gabriel's research just confirmed it. I was in denial, I'll admit," he did not look to his lover, "but I cannot refute it anymore. Overwatch does do some work for the betterment and protection of the world, but it also works to the favor of the men and women who ordered its creation. Blackwatch is the exact same way." He met Jesse's gaze. "I--no, we--are tired of being used. We signed our lives away to become soldiers to protect the world in which we live. We did not go through the horrors of the SEP to become pawns, nor will we continue to risk the lives of our soldiers or ourselves for anything but protecting the innocent. We did this for the betterment of the world - not to line the pockets of politicians." Jesse frowned up at Jack, thinking that the man's words sounded perfect for a press release - or an omission of guilt. "You're talkin' like you've already been caught." He looked over to Gabe. "So what're we going to do?" "For now, exactly what we have been. This isn't something that we can hastily act upon. We need proof. More proof. Completely undeniable proof. We're going to keep doing what we have been, documenting everything along the way. When we have a case that cannot be refuted, we will act." "And do... what?" "We'll release the information to the world right after we disband our armies. We will not have our forces in place when we release this information - soldiers will be scattered across the world on different 'missions' that we'll order them to go on. As soon as that information is released, we'll go into hiding. All of us." Gabe fought to keep his expression as neutral as he could; he did not want Jesse to see the fear in his eyes. "And I am afraid that we may have to spend the rest of our lives in hiding."

  Jesse saw Jack flinch but he himself only shrugged. "Not like I've not done that before." He looked between the two commanders again. "So, for now it's just business as usual?" "Yes." Jack nodded. "Gabriel and I will be discussing this more at length during the rest of his recovery. We will determine the proper course of action for us to take." "Jack, go ahead and get the phones. It’s late enough that no one should question you leaving the base for a while. Do you have enough cash on you to get them?" "Yes." He pushed himself away from the wall. "I will see you two soon." He gave a curt nod before leaving the room.

    Gabriel remained motionless until the sound of Jack's retreating feet had faded into silence.

 He reached out to his soldier. "Jesse," his voice was as unsteady as his hands, "why did you agree to this?" "Because you asked me for help. You're my commander," Jesse held Gabe's hands. "You're my boss." "You've just followed me into hell..." "At least I'll be in good company." He gave his commander a small, crooked smile. Gabriel, despite the situation, returned the smile. "Indeed." He squeezed the man's hands once more before leaning back. "I'm going to call Lori in here. There's something that I need to do and I do not want to let it wait any more. You can take your phone back, but don't put the battery back in until after Jack returns with the new phones." "Alright." He returned the pieces to his pocket as Gabe pressed the call button.

 It took only three minutes for Lori arrive.

 She threw open the door and rushed inside, followed by two other scrub-clad men. Security guards, Jesse figured, judging by the outlines of the concealed guns. He watched as Lori came to Gabe's side before shifting his gaze back to the guards. They were standing between themselves and the doorway; both men looked like they were ready to jump into action at the slightest provocation. "Gabe, what's wrong?" Lori asked as she checked his vitals. "Nothing; I'd like to leave." "You ripped your stitches just a few hours ago!" "Yes, I know." Gabe's lips quirked into a grin. "But I'd like to leave now. Is there any real reason for me to stay here?" "Yeah - for rest and recovery!" "I'd rather do that in my own bed." Lori sighed. "Pain in my ass, I swear." She shook her head. "Gabe, I don't think you should leave just yet. You need to rest. At the very least, let that course of antibiotics," she gestured to a mostly-empty IV bag, "finish up, okay?" "There's about ten minutes left in it, yeah?" "Yeah. When that's empty, give me a call and I'll discharge you. But!" She poked his chest. "You better get your ass back in here bright and early! We gotta keep those antibiotics in you if we want to cure that infection, alright?" "I'll be back here at 7 am, sharp." "Fine." She looked to the two guards. "Go on; go back to your stations." They hesitated, not moving until she began to shoo them out of the room.

  Lori looked to the commander as she stood in the doorway. "Give me a call when the bag empties and I'll unhook you, okay? I shouldn't, but I know Jesse'll bring you back here if you get worse." Jesse gave a playful salute to the nurse as she closed the door.

  When the two could only hear the silence of the mostly-empty bay, Jesse looked up to his commander. "What are you gonna do?" "I want to change your duties. I want you with me at all times now. I have the feeling that I am going to be needing a body guard and I trust you more than I do anyone else." He gave a half smile. "I hope you aren't upset that we won't be announcing your new rank to the rest of the forces, though. "New rank?" "It wouldn't be right to have a sergeant standing at the side of a General, now would it?" "No...?" "Exactly. Congratulations, Major Jesse Gabriel McCree." Gabe's smile reached his eyes. Jesse mouthed the words in disbelief as he stared to his commander--no, his General. He knew Gabe hated the title, but it's what he was; Gabe wasn't just his commander...

  He was General Reyes of Blackwatch - one of the most powerful men in the world.

  Gabe watched Jesse processing this new development, all but laughing at the way he was blinking owlishly in confusion. "Jesse, when you find your feet, can you return to my room and bring me a change of clothes? I don't want to walk through the base in scrubs." "Yessir, Gener--" "Don't fucking call me that." "Sure thing, boss." "Much better." Gabe smiled as he settled himself down into the uncomfortable bed.

  His smile vanished the moment the door closed...

  Gabriel stared into the dark room as worry and guilt filled his heart; he had known that Jesse would agree to help him, had known that the kid would do anything he asked. He had held onto the vain hope that Jesse, for once in his life, would have told him no.

  He carefully drew his legs up to his chest and sighed. None of this was what he had signed up for when he had enlisted into Overwatch. He had thought he was simply going to be another grunt soldier, a standard Joe with a gun and a rucksack. He had not expected to ever rise to the point of leading troops, let alone to the point of commanding Blackwatch. And yet, he wasn't surprised that this had happened.

  He had dedicated himself to Overwatch all those years ago, just as he still did. Overwatch kept a roof over his head and food in his stomach. Hector's home had long since been sold and his mother refused to speak to him. His cousins, too, were not fond of him - he couldn't prove it, but he was certain it was because of his estranged mother. Overwatch was all that he had and he did everything he could to ensure that he wouldn't lose it.

  And yet, he chuckled darkly, funny how fast things change...

    Jesse passed Lori in the hallway and gave the frazzled woman a grin. "Take care of him," she grumbled as she gave Jesse a quick hug, "he's as ornery as they come right now." "How's that a change from the usual?" Lori gave him a half-smile as she went to go check on her other patients.

  Jesse stepped into Gabriel's room and closed the door behind him. He placed a change of clothes down on the bed and stepped back. "Want me to leave the room so you can change?" "I don't care." Gabe said as he pulled off the hospital gown. "Thanks for bringin--Jesse, what the fuck?" "What?" "These are not mine. Where the fuck did you find these?" "What?" Jesse asked, trying and failing to sound innocent. "Mijo, one of these days, I swear I'm gonna kick your ass." Reyes found himself staring down at a pair of black sweat pants with the word 'JUICY' emblazoned across the seat. He grumbled as he pulled on the pants and the shirt before sliding out of bed.

  Gabe hurried out of the infirmary, grateful that Lori was with a patient and couldn't see him. He knew that she'd demand pictures and the last thing he wanted was to have his pant-clad ass be the background on her cellphone again.

  Jesse followed behind him, grinning from ear to ear as he followed his commander - it took every ounce of willpower he didn't know he had to not wolf-whistle. Gabe might be his boss, but he could still appreciate a nice ass when he saw one...

    After a blessedly uneventful walk through the base, the pair found themselves frowning as they stood within Reyes' room. The blood had dried on the floor and the papers were still scattered across the entire room.   "Jesse, clean up the documents." He sighed as he went to fetch a towel. "Don't worry about putting them back in order right now. I'll take care of the blood." "Yessir."

  They worked quickly and silently to put Reyes' room back together. Jesse gathered the sheets and righted the upended chair as Gabriel cleaned up the dried puddle of his own blood. He did not comment on the way Reyes' hands were shaking as he saw the man's tight-lipped expression. He knew Gabe well enough to know that the man was fighting to keep his composure and he wasn't about to press the issue. If Gabe wanted to talk, he would do it on his own time.

  "He nearly killed me, Jesse."

  He just hadn't expected Gabe to talk about it now.

  "He nearly killed me." He said again. "He admitted it. He admitted he shoved me on purpose. He admitted he nearly killed me because I knew too much." Reyes was sitting on the floor, right next to the cleaned tile and the bloodied towel. "The man I love nearly killed me. I wanted to have my life with him, and he with me, and he nearly killed me." Reyes stared down at the blood on his hands - his own blood. "Jesse, I don't--I mean," he sighed, "that isn't Jack. The man you saw today? That's not Jack. I don't even know who that is, but I know that's not my Jack." He closed his eyes. "Just as I'm not his Gabriel anymore." "Boss?" Jesse's tone was low, eerily calm. "Are you honestly telling me he tried to murder you?" "Mijo, you are not allowed to leave my side right now." "What?" "For all of our sakes, you are not allowed to leave my side." "...Fine." "You're not allowed to lay a hand on him, either. Not yet." "Com--" "No, Jesse. No. Not yet." Reyes slowly pushed himself to his feet and picked up the towel. "When all this is said and done, and we're all safe, then I'll give him a ten second head start before I let you go after him. But, for now, we need him. He needs me, I need him. I need you. I need everyone to work together, because if we have any sort of rift between us, we'll all swing from the gallows." "...Fine." Jesse huffed. "Fine. But you better promise me that I'll get my licks in one day." "One day, yes. But not now." Jesse nodded, seemingly placated. "So what now?"

  "Now, I'm going to change out of these fucking sweats and we're going to go to my office." Gabe said as he made his way to his small dresser. He pulled out a pair of nondescript pants before pushing the sweats off of his hips. He went to step out of them, only to bite back a scream as he felt his newly-stitched incisions pulling. Jesse ran to his side and grabbed him, holding him steady as Gabe tried to clear the stars from his vision. He guided Gabe back to the bed and helped him sit, his young face contorted with worry as he saw Gabe paling from the pain. "Boss? Do I need to get some oxy?" "No." He hissed. "I need my wits about me. I'll take some ibuprofen, though. Eight hundred milligrams." "Sure thing." Jesse hurried into the small bathroom and began sorting through the pill bottles.

  He rejoined Gabe a moment later and handed him a large pill and a cup of water. He watched as Gabe swallowed the pill with only a sip of water before he closed his eyes. "We'll go to my office in a few minutes." His voice was thin. "At your leisure, boss."

   The two men made their way through the base, neither talking as they walked to Gabe's office. Most of the soldiers had settled in for the night, with only a few men and women milling about the halls. Jesse watched as Gabe unlocked the door to his office and followed him inside. He blinked at the alien sight of Mrs. Ramanaja's empty desk; he had half-expected her to still be there. "So, where does Mrs. Ramanaja live?" "On base." "What? Really? I never see her." "That's because she doesn't want to be seen." Gabe smiled wryly. "She's going to be a part of this too, Jesse. No way for her not to be. She sees everything we do." "But she's just a secreta--" "Before you finish that statement, do you want to know why it took me so long to find a replacement for Andrew?" "Yeah." "Because I wanted someone with a background in the Special Forces. Mrs. Ramanaja was a career soldier, but I'm not at liberty to disclose the full details or what army she served in. All you need to know is that she's a force of nature," his smile grew, "and she also makes a good cup of tea." "...understood." Jesse threw one final look over his shoulder as he followed Gabe into his office. He swore he saw the butt of a rifle strapped to the underside of the desk.

  Gabe sat at his desk and drummed his fingers on his knee as he waited for his computer to wake up. "The password changes every week," Gabe said without looking to the soldier, "every Monday morning. I'll tell you how to find the password later. For now, come here." He looked up to Jesse. "Follow what I do. If something happens to me and our operation is blown before we're ready, I want you to delete the records of this entire base. I'll show you how to do it. And I'll keep showing you until you can do it with your eyes closed." "O-okay," Jesse swallowed as he stood next to Gabe, watching as the man pulled up a terminal window and began to type. "I can't get to all of the backup copies from here," Gabe continued typing, "but I've got a contingency plan to take care of them. We'll go over that later and I'll tell you what you need to do to set that plan in motion." "Understood." Jesse's voice shook slightly. "If you can't do this, Mrs. Ramanaja can. She knows how and she knows when she'll need to do it." "Good." His tone grew a little stronger with the reassurance that he wouldn't be the only person saddled with this responsibility. He watched as Gabe began to walk him through the databases and how to navigate the tables...

   The next three days passed without much fanfare. Reyes began a new course of antibiotics and spent most of his days sick to his stomach and knitting in an attempt to keep his blood pressure down. Jesse spent his time sitting next to Reyes, talking with his commander as Reyes relayed everything he knew. Jack spent his time doing work within Reyes' office, managing both Overwatch and Blackwatch with the help of Mrs. Ramanaja.

The only interesting thing that had happened was the one thing that Jesse wasn't privy to.

  Gabe and Jack had changed their sleeping arrangements on the night they received their new phones. After plenty of arguing and a stern hand on his back, Jesse left the pair as he went to go get Reyes' medications from the clinic. When he had come back, he noticed that Reyes' room was nowhere near as crowded as it had been before. "Jack is taking a room elsewhere in the base." Gabe did not look up from his knitting. "Good." Jesse sat on the edge of the bed. "It's safer that way." "Indeed..." Gabe's tone was firm as his eyes were dour. "I am considering moving your room to be adjacent to mine. I will talk with the agents in the morning to see what we can do." "Alright." Jesse looked to the hat. "Y'really want me close, don't you?" "You do me no good as a bodyguard if you aren't here." "Yeah..."

  Gabe glanced up at the young man, his expression softening as he saw Jesse's glum face. "It's more than that, you know. I want you around me - now, more than ever." He lowered his needles. "This is a stressful time and we don't know who our enemies are. We need our allies and our family and we need them close." He nudged Jesse's leg with his foot. "Smile, mijo. We're fine for now." "How can I, boss? I mean, look at what happened! Jack nearly killed you and we're plottin' to overthrow Overwatch. Shit, next you're gonna tell me we're gonna go capture the president of England!" "England doesn't have a president." Gabe returned his gaze to his knitting. "And yes, it's bad, but right now, everything's fine." He shook his head. "Enjoy it while you can, mijo. I don't know how much longer it'll last..."

     The peace lasted for three days.

 Jesse stared down at the ball of yarn as he idly rolled it between his hands. This wasn't at all what he had expected when Reyes told him he'd be his new bodyguard, but he wasn't really complaining. He could hear the quiet hum of the ceiling fan, the gentle music that filled the room and the rhythmic clicking of Reyes' knitting needles. Jesse let his fingers comb through the unwound yarn as he exhaled. His head came to rest against the wall behind the bed. He found himself nodding off as he was soothed by the susurrus.

For right now, he knew, everything was safe.

  Here, in the quiet bedroom, there was no Blackwatch. There was no Overwatch. There were no unseen enemies, no fear and no threats of death. There were no monsters lurking in the shadows and there was nothing here that could jeopardize his life or the life of his commander.

  He glanced over to Reyes and found himself smiling. Reyes was focused on the hat he was knitting; his normally intense gaze had grown as soft as the cashmere yarn that wove between his needles.

  There was only peace here, he thought; peace and the steady sound of Reyes' knitting.

  Jesse's smile grew dewy as sleep settled itself onto his shoulders...

  He was pulled back to consciousness a moment later as a knitting needle poked his side.

  "Jesse," The young man bolted upright, his eyes wide and searching as his hand reached for the empty holster on his hip. "I did not officially change your duties so you could fall asleep beside me." "...sorry, boss," Jesse mumbled as he rubbed his eyes, "I just, uh..." He glanced down to the red yarn he still held. "I mean, can y'blame me?" Reyes chuckled as he resumed knitting. "Perhaps I should teach you how to knit. It might keep you occupied - and awake." "I dunno. I mean, if y'want me to be occupied, I could read--" "You fall asleep on your books on a regular basis." "--or I could help with the paperwork--" Reyes glanced over to him. "Are you telling me you want to do paperwork? Because that can easily be arranged." "...so, how 'bout that knitting?" Jesse turned to face Reyes, staring intently down at the needles he held. "How's this work? Hold two sticks, wiggle them a bit and then stuff appears?" "More or less." He smiled. "You're just wanting to learn so you can get away from paperwork, aren't you?" "Maybe." Reyes sat up a little straighter. "Do you really want to learn?" "Yeah." Jesse nodded. "I mean, you seem to enjoy it and I figure if you can do it for hours on end, it's gotta be pretty relaxing. Y'don't tolerate bullshit or tedious stuff for long." Gabe laughed at that. "Alright then. Go to the closet; there's a bag just inside the door. There's plenty of yarn in there and some extra needles - grab whatever yarn you want." "'kay." He did as Reyes told him and hummed to himself as he rummaged through the large bag. "Why do you have all this stuff, boss?" "Sandy gave it to me." "Did she know you knit?" "No. I didn't know how until about a week ago, actually. She gave me all of it and she taught me how to use it - she said it'd be something good for me to do while recovering." "Oh." Jesse picked up a ball of thick blue yarn and some needles before making his way back to the bed. "You're really good at it, especially since you just started." "Practice." Reyes yawned, "I can't sleep on these medications, so I knit." "Oh..." Jesse sat down beside his commander and looked up to him. "Y'know you can text me, right? I mean, I'd come keep you company if you can't sleep."  "I know, mijo, but I'll be fine." He glanced over at the yarn Jesse held and nodded. "Good, that'll be easy for you to work with. You ready?" "Yup." Jesse grinned.

    Jack ran a hand down his tired face as he made his way slowly to Reyes' room. It was only Friday, but he was utterly exhausted - he honestly didn't know how Gabe could manage the amount of drudgery with just himself and Mrs. Ramanaja. Yes, the woman was amazing at what she did, but she was just one person and Reyes was just another. How did they manage to have time to do anything besides paperwork? Hell, he had an entire clerical staff at his base and he still spent most of his day stuck behind his desk!

  He continued to grumble as he walked through the halls, his dark mood leaving him just long enough to return the salutes of the soldiers that he passed. They were respectful, at least, but Jack was still reeling from culture shock as he walked through the Blackwatch headquarters. This place was so very different from his own base. Everything at Zurich was done by the books and on a very set schedule. Here?

  He shook his head as he passed by the recreation room, trying to ignore the sounds of the Mockingbirds and the Hellcats. The Mockingbird unit was trying and apparently succeeding at defending their title of Foosball champions.

  For the tenth time that day, he swore that the Blackwatch base was nothing more than barely organized chaos...

  At long last, Jack reached Gabriel's room.

  He pushed open the door to Reyes' room and paused as he stared at the scene before him.

  Jesse and Reyes were both sitting on the bed, their backs against the headboard with knitting needles dangling from their limp hands. Jesse's head had fallen onto Reyes' shoulder; Reyes' head had come to rest on top of Jesse's. Both men were sleeping soundly with their laps covered by various balls of yarn and half-knitted pieces. Jack blinked at the sight of a poorly made blue hat on Reyes' head but remained silent as he pulled out his phone. He took a picture of the resting pair before he cleared his throat. "Look alive, gentlemen. We've got a mission to sabotage..."

#overwatch #overwatch fanfiction #overwatch reyes #overwatch mccree #overwatch trans gabe #overwatch trans jesse #trans reyes #trans mccree #jack morrison #morreyeson #reaper76 #overwatch fanfic #paranoid-fighter writes overwatch #feedback is welcomed and appreciated #jesse mccree

[ladystylestores]

B Michael, Tired of Platitudes – WWD

https://ift.tt/3khaSIi

B Michael has dressed celebrities from Cicely Tyson to Beyoncé to Brandy. He and his business and life partner, Mark-Anthony Edwards, run their luxury fashion business from a base in what used to be Manhattan’s Garment Center, before wanderlust and ever-escalating rents caused the exodus of so many fashion companies from the area. For 21 years, B Michael America has been a custom house, creating made-to-order clothes for a roster of tony clients, most U.S.-based but with a sprinkling of internationals. Now, Michael and Edwards are re-branding their company with an expansion into luxury ready-to-wear. They will employ a direct-to-consumer model, set to launch for fall 2021.

It’s not their first attempt at rtw. Over the years, Michael and Edwards, both of whom are Black, tried numerous times to go the wholesale route, but found they could not make inroads at the traditional bastions of American luxury retail. Meanwhile, an exclusive arrangement with Macy’s for a bridge collection ultimately failed. Throughout these efforts, Michael claimed to WWD, he and Edwards encountered “in-store personalities that were very clear to us were racially biased.” Edwards put it more succinctly, attributing the company’s problems with stores to racial bias, “100 percent.”

Discussing the specifics, the two men described disappointing encounters at what were for ages the cornerstones of flourishing New York-based retail — Bergdorf Goodman, Saks Fifth Avenue, Bloomingdale’s and Macy’s — encounters they discussed in detail.

RELATED STORY: B Michael America’s Founding Partners on Racial Bias at Retail

Yet they noted that retail isn’t fashion’s only seat of bias: They also named WWD and myself, which has made this piece difficult to write. (In other contexts, they referenced other journalists as well.) Our conversations resulted after Michael last month posted to Instagram an item calling me out for WWD’s anniversary book, “WWD 100 Years/100 Designers,” published in 2010. I wrote the foreword and worked with others on the edit (one arduous element of the overall arduous anniversary process).

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PLEASE SHARE! Our contributions Matter! No More Platitudes! Women’s Wear Daily (WWD) considered by many the Bible of the fashion and retail industry. Bridget Foley the current executive editor at WWD is considered by @bof one of the people shaping the global fashion industry. In researching Bridget Foley’s book about a century of style, “WWD 100 Years, 100 Designers,” executive editor Bridget Foley included only 1 Black Designer Willi Smith. Black fashion designers began to gain recognition during the late 1940s, even while still segregated within the fashion industry, works by New York-based Zelda Wynn Valdes and Ann Lowe, who created custom-made gowns for society women and celebrities such as Jackie Kennedy. Designers such as Arthur McGee, Wesley Tann, and Jon Weston worked for New York manufacturers before establishing their own businesses. We were compelled as a Black American fashion house to share after seeing this retrospect on a century of style, not seeing the contributions of Black Designers INCLUDED in the book. #blackfashiondesignersmatter @samiranasr @alexvadukul @dhwendygoodman @brookebobb

A post shared by B Michael (@bmichaelamerica) on Jun 8, 2020 at 4:58pm PDT

  After seeing the post, I e-mailed. Edwards responded and the three of us talked twice, at length.

Until recently, Michael has been relatively quiet on what it means to be a Black designer. But not anymore. Now he’s embracing a vocal leadership role in combating racism in the industry. “I’ve realized that I have to step up, that my silence is actually not good and that I have a responsibility,” he said. “I recognize that racism is an issue that is not one that I subscribe to or not one that I create. Therefore, it’s really not my problem. But I have to acknowledge its existence.” 

Perhaps to keep me from feeling too uncomfortable, Michael chose to focus our initial conversation on his retail experience. We discussed the anniversary tome in a follow-up. “The fact that a book titled ‘100 Years/100 Designers’ only had one Black designer, I just found unacceptable as a historical account in terms of the designers who have contributed to the tapestry of  American fashion or fashion,” he said. “I believe the only [Black] designer you included was Willi Smith…and so designers like Ann Lowe — you know who she is — Arthur McGee and others [were excluded]. You even mentioned a couple when we last spoke about this, that could have, from a history point of view, been in the book. I even daresay there are contemporary designers such as myself or such as a Tracy Reese or others. Because you include people like Zac Posen, whom, as an example, I consider [that] we are of the same era. Because of that, I just felt like it was a very biased perspective.”

“A biased perspective” — definitely a look-in-the-mirror moment. Michael was right; Willi Smith is the only Black designer featured in the book. I wish I recalled the process well enough to explain why Stephen Burrows, Scott Barrie and Patrick Kelly weren’t included. I can’t, nor can I defend their omissions. Michael was also correct in noting that the other designers he mentioned weren’t on the radar of those of us who worked on the book. Could one go through, designer by designer, and try to defend the lack of coverage? For example, some did mostly custom work, not WWD’s focus. Sure. Could one argue straight-faced against the premise that through WWD’s first 100 years and beyond, the most celebrated part of the fashion industry — and our coverage of it — was almost exclusively white? No. Nor can I claim that I or anyone else involved in putting the book together ever stopped during the process to say, “Where are the Black designers?” Michael said they just weren’t on our radar. I can’t argue that assessment.

Still, Michael and Edwards didn’t dwell on WWD’s and other media’s slights. Conversely, specific accounts of their retail encounters took up a good deal of time. Michael outright dismissed the contentions by those who worked for Saks, Bergdorf’s and Bloomingdale’s that his clothes were not right for their clients. “The women who buy my clothing, they buy Valentino, they buy Dior, they buy Chanel. I mean, I think those are [the stores’] customers.…They’re loyal, and they buy and wear me publicly…” he said, adding that his clients often accessorize his clothes from those stores. “How is it I’m not a brand that they feel is right for their stores? What about it is ‘not right?’”

The Red Zone: B Michael’s timeless, full-skirted silk-and-cotton dress work with the accessory du jour, a face mask.  Masato Onoda/WWD

Yet there’s far more to the B Michael story than retail rejection. As they focus on their rtw launch, the two men see a potential silver lining to the coronavirus quarantine, during which many consumers, including luxury types, have become more accustomed to online shopping than in the past. Michael’s aesthetic approach will remain the same. “This is the collection that we wanted to be in Saks and in Bergdorf’s a long time ago,” Edwards said.

B Michael America rtw will range from day to high evening, with frequent drops to ensure freshness of the site. While the partners wouldn’t divulge price points, Michael placed the collection as competitive with the major names of luxury: “In this country, you could compare us to Carolina Herrera or Oscar; if it’s a European designer, maybe Valentino…in that price range.” Prices for B Michael America’s custom offerings start at about $3,200 for a simple wool day dress — reasonable, by made-to-order standards — with evening ranging from $6,000 to upward of $20,000.

That collection, launched in 1999, was not Michael’s first fashion venture. He found entrée into the industry as a milliner, a path shared by Coco Chanel and Halston. Michael had been bitten by the fashion bug as a student at the University of Connecticut (he grew up in Durham and West Haven), and so moved on to FIT. There, he studied millinery under Prof. Ann Albrizio, who became his mentor. He was soon working with Oscar de la Renta, who eventually sponsored him for the CFDA, and with Louis Féraud. Michael also caught the attention of Nolan Miller, costumer of television’s legendary “Dynasty.” Miller enlisted Michael to craft the hats that helped define Krystle Carrington and Alexis Carrington Colby as the good diva/bad diva archetypes of Eighties power glam. During that period, Michael was creative director at Aldo Hat Corp., which he eventually left, starting his own millinery business, B Michael New York, in 1989.

Soon thereafter, the famed p.r. doyenne Eleanor Lambert approached Michael about a project. (Lambert, long a fashion institution, founded the CFDA in 1962, and was instrumental in establishing the Coty Awards, forerunner to the CFDA Awards. She died in 2003 at the age of 100.) The project for which she recruited Michael was in collaboration with the Plaza Hotel, then run by Ivana Trump; he was to design Easter hats. He accepted the gig, and recalled it fondly. “What I remember loving about it is that I did a wide-brimmed gold hat that was shown with a Carolyne Roehm [suit]; she did an orange silk shantung suit. I remember that so well. I also did a hat, I think, for the designer John Anthony.” Alas, no pictures exist that he knows of. “Unfortunately, no,” Michael said. “It was before the time we ran around taking pictures all day long.”

Michael remained close to Lambert, who encouraged him to make the crossover to a full fashion collection for fall 1999. He and Edwards launched B Michael America as a custom house, making everything in their atelier. Despite that model, with Lambert’s support and encouragement, Michael immediately started showing at New York Fashion Week, first at the Bryant Park Tents, and then as part of the migration to Lincoln Center. Over the years, he also showed at various other venues, including the New York Public Library, the Museum of Natural History and the Museum of the City of New York, always on the official calendar. 

In the realm of event dressing, Michael’s clothes have made it onto the Oscars stage twice, both in 2019, when Cicely Tyson won an honorary Oscar and Ruth E. Carter won for Best Costume Design for “Black Panther.” Obviously, ladies who know a thing or two about expressing personality through clothes appreciate Michael’s work. Colleen Atwood also wore B Michael America to the Oscars in 2010, when she was nominated for Best Costume Design for “Nine.”

As for the B Michael aesthetic, it’s about round-the-clock polish. “I’m into a very architectural kind of construction,” the designer offered. “I like using lots of seams to create detail. For me, seams and structure would be the detail more so than, say, frills and beadings and things like that. So it is very modern, it’s very timeless.”

The re-brand and the development of a rtw collection will be expensive, and the partners said they have sufficient financing in place. As the company’s majority stakeholders, they are joined by a small circle of angel investors — four women, all of whom were clients first, and one man. Kathryn Chenault, wife of former American Express chief executive officer Kenneth Chenault, their initial angel, helped bring in the others. While all of the investors are Black, Michael and Edwards consider retaining 100 percent Black ownership less important than building a company that will endure.

“What is important for us as a Black designer and brand is that we are able to build a business that will live beyond us,” Michael said. “And so for us to make an absolute statement [insisting on all-Black ownership], and negate that, I think we won’t do.”

High Glam: B Michael’s two-piece evening look in silk-and-wool brocade.  Masato Onoda/WWD

He noted that no fashion house established by a Black designer has survived its founder’s death. “You can still go buy Oscar and…Dior.…They are legendary. They have lived beyond the founding designer. That has not happened yet for a Black designer. I mean, Ann Lowe should be a brand that is viable right now but she isn’t. Patrick Kelly?”

As for whether Michael and Edwards would be open to additional investment now, the ceo responded directly. “All companies are always [looking for investment] as they scale and grow,” Edwards said. “So the answer is yes.”

The vertical, d-t-c structure of the upcoming foray into rtw makes sense in light of the dismal state of traditional retail and because of the unwelcome mat the men maintained major stores laid out for B Michael America over the course of 20 years. The problem, Michael stressed, was never with the consumer. “Ninety percent of my clientele are white,” he said. Rather, “the decision-makers who place those dresses on the rack is where the issues lie, OK?…It’s the decision-makers who decide, ‘Who are the brands we are going to support? Who are the brands that we are going to promote?’ That’s where the problem lies.”

Asked what a retailer would gain from withholding an appropriate collection from the consumer based on the designer’s race, Michael circled back to the WWD anniversary book. “When you did the book, ‘100 Years,’ what was in it for you to not include a Black designer?…The point is it was not on your radar. It’s not the way you think.”

Michael considers luxury a particularly tough arena. “As a Black designer competing with the likes of a Dior or a Valentino or Oscar, where do you put me?” he queried. “I’m not doing streetwear; I’m not doing accessories or things that are cute. I mean, I’m talking the luxury sector. And you and I can agree that there are no Black designer brands in the luxury sector.”

He drew on parallel examples from beyond fashion. “It’s a bigger picture,” he said. “It’s this concept that, as a Black artist, I can sing R&B and I can sing the blues or I can sing gospel, but I can’t sing opera. Or, if I’m a dancer, I can do hip-hop, I can do jazz, but how about ballet? So as a designer, to do a luxury collection is just — ‘What do we do with this guy?’ So I can’t answer your question because it’s not my problem.”

Another devil’s advocate query: In 1999, as B Michael America was launching, fashion —  particularly American fashion — was on the front end of what, with hindsight, seems like an overzealous youth obsession. The industry was enamored with a generation of prodigies (now mostly 40ish, and many struggling) who emerged from fashion schools or other formative cocoons to immediately found their own brands. (Also with hindsight, it was an obsession the WWD book did nothing to temper.) As he was a generation older, could Michael’s age have worked against him?

“Given the fact that I started 20 years ago, I was younger and a new name, and I had an Eleanor Lambert [supporting me] — come on,” Michael answered. He continued that today’s young people frequently stop him in the street, both those who recognize him, and those who don’t, but are struck by his personal style. “So your question, I get it, but I think your question doesn’t apply to me. I don’t think that Bergdorf’s said no to me because they said, “‘Oh, [he’s] not young enough.’ So I don’t think so.”

All of that said, Michael doesn’t think racial bias is the fashion machine’s only systemic negative. He was proud to become a member of the CFDA but ultimately found it wanting as an organization. He converted his membership status to “non-active” because “I felt, and feel, that I have not as a designer, or brand, really benefited.” Even after supporting the 2014 CFDA Awards at the “Patron” level (along with companies including American Express, Condé Nast, Hearst Magazines, Dior, HBC/Saks and Tom Ford), he found that “there was absolutely no benefit to us at all. It was as if we never did it. OK? It was as if we never participated at that level.”

  A Big Sweep: B Michael’s metallic silk brocade coat.  Masato Onoda/WWD

One of Michael’s problems with the CFDA: Anna Wintour’s influence on the organization and the greater industry. “Anna is not a designer, and yet she is part of the decisionmaking process of the CFDA and the sanctioning of who gets in and not and so on and so forth. I mean, I don’t get that,” Michael offered. “The CFDA should be a club for designers, and it should be a place where designers go and where we can meet, etc., etc. And now that is under the influence of the same system. I don’t get it.”

Edwards noted that while social media is helping to diffuse fashion’s power structure a bit, “these are just some of the experiences that we have had leading up to this moment.” He mused that such experiences are even worse for other designers, those with less structure and capital to fall back on. As a result, many “give up and walk away.”

Edwards noted, too, a lack of respect shown to  Michael by retailers during various encounters over the years. “When I [would] sit in meetings and listen to buyers who are transient, who come and go, who [would] sit in front of a veteran designer like B Michael, a CFDA member, his association with Eleanor Lambert, being handpicked by Nolan Miller to work with him and so forth and so on, and Oscar de la Renta, to then be told that ‘You’re not ready’ after decades of work and decades of partnership with the likes of Cicely Tyson and Phylicia Rashad and [others], just on and on and on and being told, ‘You’re not ready…’” he said.

At the same time, literal perceptions of luxury are changing. Alessandro Michele has brought an idiosyncratic oddness to Gucci. At LVMH Moët Hennessy Louis Vuitton, in choosing to fully back a new designer for the first time since Christian Lacroix, Bernard Arnault went not with someone skilled in the art and craft of fashion creation but with one of the most famous and coolest people on the planet, with great style and a zillion followers: Rihanna. More recently, LVMH’s Givenchy replaced a traditional designer, Clare Waight Keller, with Matthew Williams, a guy who made his name on the strength of a polished streetwear sensibility, even if he now deflects that characterization.

“[Those moves] are great in terms of conversation,” Michael said. “I’m all for it because it heightens fashion. But at the core of luxury, where the consumer lives, it’s still going to be about beautiful clothing that resonates for women with luxurious taste. I think that is what’s longstanding, I think that that is what will save the business and what will sustain the business.

“The true brands that have long-term meaning, like Chanel — a Chanel handbag, the original Coco handbag is still worth something,” he continued. “So I think it’s about that kind of luxury that I represent…I still appeal to women who are very modern, women who run businesses and run corporations and run philanthropic organizations. So it’s still about a modern-minded person, but it’s the true core of luxury that will sustain luxury.…At the end of the day, the people who live the lifestyle and have the income to support luxury, they are still looking for true luxury.”

In fact, with all of fashion talking about recalibration and slowing down, Michael said the moment is right for a company like his, with an emphasis on high quality, personal service and really knowing the customer. “The luxury consumer [today] — and even more so now that we are in a new world in real time — is a customer that is much more conscientious, who’s not just buying for the sake of buying because it’s some landmark brand. I think the customer now wants to understand the narrative of a brand. I think the fact that I am authentic and that I am a real heritage brand is what they view now as luxury.”

Central to that heritage is Michael’s role as a Black designer. Asked what the industry can do right now to encourage and support Black-led fashion businesses, he said that editorial support is essential, “in terms of getting our story out and getting our point of view out and our narrative. It’s very important. Because that then gives us the kind of collateral for a retailer to recognize us, and that retailer has to see us and look at our product and understand.”

As for retailers, “there has to be a commitment to say, ‘We’ve got to give you this chance.’ And if you feel like I’m not ready, tell me what I need to be ready, what am I missing? In other words, ‘I want your brand, but this is what I need from you.’ You have to have those kinds of conversations.” Finally, investment capital, “but capital that allows us to keep equity in our businesses.…Capital is everything, and that gives us a seat at the table. I read something the other week where 1 percent of Black businesses receive venture capital. That means it doesn’t even exist. That’s nonexistent.”

Despite what he and Edwards claim have been years of dismissive treatment by the fashion industry, Michael’s spirit is robust. He feels newly invigorated, not only to make a success of the B Michael America business as he and Edwards expand its focus to include luxury rtw, but also to take a leadership role in speaking out against racism within the industry, to inform, enlighten and keep the pressure on.

“We’ve been using the word ‘platitudes,” he said. “A lot of initiatives are taking place…a lot of people are now coming out and saying, ‘We have been wrong, and we have to do things differently.’ I am espousing that; I am embracing that. There is this moment now where we can all, myself included, say, ‘OK, let’s wipe the slate clean,’ so to speak, and, ‘What we can do differently?’ But that’s what exactly has to happen.”

The day after the deaths of legendary civil rights activists Congressman John Lewis and C.T. Vivian, Michael sent me a text. It included a photo of a handwritten note Lewis sent to him in 2000. Under the printed line “Walking With the Wind,” Lewis had written a thank you to Michael for his help on something. He finished the note, “With faith and hope, keep your eyes on the Prize.”

Michael embraces that advice. “’Walking With the Wind…keeping my eyes on the Prize!” his text read. “A cherished lesson!” 

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[halkeye]

Got a tiny little pull request on a old hubot module I created a while ago, and it reminded me I was going to talk about open source.

How did I get started with open source? Why is it important to me?

Well, need to go back a little further. I had interest in programming since I was a little kid. I started to play with basic, and my dad turned out to have a how to program in basic book (which I might even still have). My mom was always looking out for oppertunities for me.

I even managed to be the first person in my cub scouts that got the computer badge. I had written a simple program, had a bunch of inputs, asking questions, branching paths depending on what you answered, everything. Turns out the computer badge was really more about "What is a computer? What are inputs, what are outputs". Like 10 questions later I got the badge. At this point I was already starting to poke into anything I could that would be considered programming. I made dos boot disks that would have menus that would launch different games. I made basic apps that would ask you questions and play music. (I wish I made madlibs like the Girls Learning Code workshops did).

In high school 2 more big moments happened.

My mom found me a course called wizkids. It ended up teaching c++ to kids. I know I still have the notes they gave me but for the life of me I can't remember what program we made.

My dad and I went to Vancouver community college and took a very basic visual basic course. He was trying to learn how to make little programs in excel for his office, and I was happy to come along to learn.

I lucked out.

Come college I got involved with LiveJournal. I joined up because some people in a chat room started talking about it. I liked the sense of community. And the place to vent. Like the early blog posts those early LiveJournal posts were amazingly cringe worthy, but it helped keep things out of my head, and I think after moving away from it lead to more anxiety.

But quickly found out about lj_dev. LiveJournal was mostly open source. They had some of the company logic, like payment processing behind locked doors so others couldn't really compete with them, but the product itself was all open source. I lucked out, they were super friendly. I expressed interest and even had a couple tiny changes assigned to me. By the time I moved on from LiveJournal, I was actually completing bug bounties.

Now from that point onward I'll admit I don't remember the details all that clearly. Previous to GitHub, it was way harder to contribute to projects. LiveJournal used subversion, which was hard to maintain your own copy. Most of the time you would end up getting write access to the branches directory. Submitting patches still involved generating diffs most of the time. It did help me get super comfortable with diffs and the patch tool. Drupal used CVS, then Subversion, and I hear they have now gone to git.

During my time with LiveJournal, I started to self host a blog. I still used LiveJournal a lot, but liked the fun of self hosting. My first job was also in perl (I think having experience with perl, and a cheap new grad, helped me get said job). So I wrote my own blogging software. I knew the basics of mysql from work, plus was super comfortable with the inner workings of mod_perl, and perl from LiveJournal and work. It beyond sucked, but I had a lot of fun writing it.

Eventually I migrated to moveable type. It was also written in perl but had a plugin system. I wrote up a couple plugins to make cross posting to LiveJournal super easy. Whoa! people actually were using it. I put a zip file on my website because it was useful to me. I didn't expect others to use it. This was awesome. Got to meet (online) a bunch of bloggers. Got a bunch of feature requests.

Sharing is essentially second nature to me.

Eventually I got a new job, started learning php, found out about drupal, and just loved how fast it was. How modular it was. Again I started to make plugins. Apparently I wanted self hosted subversion repos to be viewable on my website. So I made a plugin that did directory and file listing. I think it mostly scraped the output of the subversion command, but it was useful to me, so I published it. Shockingly people used it. I got bug reports, feature requests. I was very proud of it. I know I was involved in a couple other plugins, but for the life of me I can't remember what they were.

Eventually I moved on again. At some point wordpress had stabilized. It was no longer being hacked every couple days. It worked well. Required way less maintenance (drupal was awesome, lean and fast, but broke everything every major release. On purpose, but broke everything). I didn't work on plugins for this. This was just it worked, but I did submit bug reports to others. Maybe made a couple local changes.

Then along came GitHub. GitHub let us host everything for free. I ended up being super lazy and retiring the subversion server I ran at home, and started to migrate most of my old projects to GitHub. I've never really had a need to keep secrets, so I didn't have a need to keep these random projects secret. They were not useful to anyone other than me. They were mostly scripts to do the simpliest of things. Posted the old muds I worked on. Posted mtljpost. So many other tiny things. I think i'm up to 200+ repos now.

With GitHub, it became super easy to do the smallest of changes. Many documentation patches. Many minor things.

"I adopted the attitude of I don't care if this is useful to you, its useful for me, so I wanted to share it"

The above is a phrase I mentioned to someone recently. I think its a pretty accurate description of my open source stuff. I've contributed major patches to projects. I did some fairly big refactoring to sonarr to add twitter support. I submitted a patch last week that just updated a link in the documentation. I've reported bugs for behaviors I couldn't figure out how to reproduce but provided as much information as I can.

To summarize, I wish I could remember way more details but:

I keep using the word lucky, and I was. I had a lot of great people help me out along the way, even just the little things of giving feedback on change requests. BradFitz got me to rewrite so many patches. He could have probably done them himself in less time, but let me learn from him, even gave me pointers on how to solve problems.

I was lucky that nobody really judged me

I was lucky I had the attitude of "I'm sharing things I care about"

Now its second nature to me. I want to help everyone I can. I volunteer when I can. I code review when I can.

I probably submit ~5 patches to open source projects every month. They are often super tiny, but I always try and help where I can, and since its more "this could be helpful" and not "you need this", then if it never gets accepted, I don't have any ego attached to it.

Cover Image by: unsplash-logo John Schnobrich

via The Nameless Site

#IFTTT #The Nameless Site

[whitelabelseoreseller]

Kindness as Currency: How Good Deeds Can Benefit Your Local Business

Posted by MiriamEllis

“To receive everything, one must open one’s hands and give.” - Taisen Deshimaru, Buddhist philosopher

A woman stands in a busy supermarket checkout line. The shopper in front of her realizes that they don’t have enough money with them to cover their purchase, so she steps in and makes up the balance. Then, when she reaches the checkout, her own receipt totals up higher than she was expecting. She doesn’t have enough left in her purse.

“No problem,” says the young clerk and swipes his own debit card to pay for her groceries.

A bystander snaps a photo and posts the story to Facebook. The story ends up on local radio and TV news. Unstructured citations for the grocery store start crackling like popcorn. National news takes notice. A scholarship foundation presents a check to the clerk. When asked how he felt about it, the clerk said:

“Personally, I think it’s undeserved attention. Because she did something so good … I felt like it was my responsibility to return the favor.”

In the process, if only for a moment in time, an everyday supermarket is transformed into a rescue operation for hope in humanity. Through the lens of local SEO, it’s also a lesson in how good deeds can be rewarded by good mentions.

Studying business kindness can be a rewarding task for any motivated digital marketing agency or local brand owner. I hope this post will be both a pick-me-up for the day, and a rallying cry to begin having deeper conversations about the positive culture businesses can create in the communities they serve.

10+ evocative examples of business kindness

“We should love people and use things, but sadly, we love things and use people,” Roger Johnson, Artisan

As a youngster in the American workforce, I ran into some very peculiar styles of leadership.

For instance, one boss gruffly told me not to waste too much time chatting with the elderly customers who especially loved buying from me...as if customer support doesn’t make or break business reputations.

And then there was the cranky school secretary who reprimanded me for giving ice packs to children because she believed they were only “trying to get attention” … as if schools don’t exist to lavish focus on the kids in their care.

In other words, both individuals would have preferred me to be less kind, less human, than more so.

Perhaps it was these experiences of my superiors taking a miserly approach to workplace human kindness that inspired me to keep a little file of outbreaks of goodwill that earned online renown. These examples beg self-reflective questions of any local business owner:

If you launched your brand in the winter, would you have opened your doors while under construction to shelter and feed housing-insecure neighbors?

If a neighboring business was struggling, would you offer them floor space in your shop to help them survive?

Would your brand’s culture inspire an employee to cut up an elder’s ham for him if he needed help? How awesome would it be if a staffer of yours had a day named after her for her kindness? Would your employees comp a meal for a hungry neighbor or pay a customer’s $200 tab because they saw them hold open a door for a differently-abled guest?

What good things might happen in a community you serve if you started mailing out postcards promoting positivity?

What if you gave flowers to strangers, including moms, on Mother’s Day?

How deeply are you delving into the season of giving at the holidays? What if, like one business owner, you opened shop on Thanksgiving just to help a family find a gift for a foster child? You might wake up to international fame on Monday morning.

What if visitors to your community had their bikes stolen on a road trip and your shop gifted them new bikes and ended up on the news?

One business owner was so grateful for his community’s help in overcoming addiction, he’s been washing their signage for free. What has your community done for you and how have you thanked them?

What if all you had to do was something really small, like replacing negative “towed at your own expense” signs by welcoming quick stop parking?

What if you, just for a day, you asked customers to pay for their purchases with kind acts?

I only know about these stories because of the unstructured citations (online references to a local business) they generated. They earned online publicity, radio, and television press. The fame for some was small and local, for others, internationally viral. Some activities were planned, but many others took place on the spur of the moment. Kindness, empathy, and gratitude, flow through them all like a river of hope, inviting every business owner to catch the current in their own way. One easy way for local business owners to keep better track of any positive mentions is by managing and monitoring reviews online with the New Moz Local.

See your online presence

Can kindness be taught in the workplace?

In Demark, schoolchildren learn empathy as a class subject. The country is routinely rated as one of the happiest in the world. At Moz, we have the TAGFEE code, which includes both generosity and empathy, and our company offers internal workshops on things like “How to be TAGFEE when you disagree.” We are noted for the kindness of our customer support, as in the above review.

According to Stanford psychologist Jamil Zaki, people “catch” cooperation and generosity from others. In his study, the monetary amount donors gave to charity went up or down based on whether they were told their peers gave much or little. They matched the generosity or stinginess they witnessed. In part two of the study, the groups who had seen others donating generously went on to offer greater empathy in writing letters to penpals suffering hard times. In other words, kindness isn’t just contagious — its impact can spread across multiple activities.

Mercedes-Benz CEO, Stephen Cannon, wanted employees to catch the kindness bug because of its profound impact on sales. He invited his workforce to join a “grassroots movement” that resulted in surprising shoppers with birthday cakes, staff rushing to remote locations with spare tires, and other memorable consumer experiences. Cannon noted:

“There is no scientific process, no algorithm, to inspire a salesperson or a service person to do something extraordinary. The only way you get there is to educate people, excite them, incite them. Give them permission to rise to the occasion when the occasion to do something arises. This is not about following instructions. It’s about taking a leap of faith.”

In a 2018 article, I highlighted the reviews of a pharmacy that made it apparent that staff wasn’t empowered to do the simplest self-determined acts, like providing a chair for a sick man who was about to fall down in a long prescription counter line. By contrast, an Inc. book review of Jill Lublin’s The Profits of Kindness states:

“Organizations that trade in kindness allow their employees to give that currency away. If you're a waitress, can you give someone a free piece of pie because the kid at the next table spilled milk on their foot? If you're a clerk in a hotel, do you have the authority to give someone a discounted rate because you can tell they've had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day?”

There may be no formula for teaching kindness, but if Zaki is right, then leadership can be the starting point of demonstrative empathy that can emanate through the staff and to its customers. How do you build for that?

A cared-for workforce for customer service excellence

You can find examples of individual employees behaving with radical kindness despite working for brands that routinely disregard workers’ basic needs. But, this hardly seems ideal. How much better to build a business on empathy and generosity so that cared-for staff can care for customers.

I ran a very quick Twitter poll to ask employees what their very most basic need is:

Unsurprisingly, the majority of respondents cited a living wage as their top requirement. Owners developing a kind workforce must ensure that staff are housing-and-food-secure, and can afford the basic dignities of life. Any brand that can’t pay its staff a living wage isn’t really operational — it’s exploitation.

Beyond the bare minimums, Mercer’s Global Talent Trends 2019 Survey of 7,300 executives, HR experts, and employees highlighted trending worker emphasis on:

Flexibility in both hours and location to create a healthy work/life balance

Ethics in company technology, practices, and transparency

Equity in pay ratios, regardless of gender

Empathy in the workplace, both internally and in having a positive societal impact with customers

It’s just not very hard to connect the dots between a workforce that has its basic and aspirational needs met, and one possessing the physical, mental and emotional health to extend those values to consumers. As I found in a recent study of my own, 70 percent of negative review resolution was driven by brands having to overcome bad/rude service with subsequent caring service.

Even at the smallest local business level, caring policies and initiatives that generate kindness are within reach, with Gallup reporting that SMBs have America’s happiest and most engaged workers. Check out Forbes list of the best small companies of 2019 and note the repeated emphasis on employee satisfaction.

Kindness as currency, with limitless growth potential

“I wanted a tangible item that could track acts of kindness. From that, the Butterfly Coin emerged.” Bruce Pedersen, Butterfly Coins

Maybe someday, you’ll be the lucky recipient of a Butterfly Coin, equipped with a unique tracking code, and gifted to you by someone doing a kind act. Then, you’ll do something nice for somebody and pass it on, recording your story amongst thousands of others around the world. People, it seems, are so eager for tokens of kindness that the first mint sold out almost immediately.

The butterfly effect (the inspiration for the name of these coins) in chaos theory holds that a small action can trigger multiple subsequent actions at a remove. In a local business setting, an owner could publicly reward an employee’s contributions, which could cause the employee to spread their extra happiness to twenty customers that day, which could cause those customers to be in a mood to tip waitstaff extra, which could cause the waitstaff to comp meals for hungry neighbors sitting on their doorsteps, and on and on it goes.

There’s an artisan in Gig Harbor, WA who rewards kindnesses via turtle figurines. There are local newspapers that solicit stories of kindness. There are towns that have inaugurated acts-of-kindness weeks. There is even a suburb in Phoenix, AZ that re-dubbed itself Kindness, USA. (I mentioned, I’ve been keeping a file).

The most priceless aspect of kindness is that it’s virtually limitless. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be quantified. The Butterfly Coin idea is attempting to track kindness, and as a local business owner, you have a practical means of parsing it, too. It will turn up in unstructured citations, reviews, and social media, if you originate it at the leadership level, and share it out from employee to customer with an open hand.

Sign up for The Moz Top 10, a semimonthly mailer updating you on the top ten hottest pieces of SEO news, tips, and rad links uncovered by the Moz team. Think of it as your exclusive digest of stuff you don't have time to hunt down but want to read!

from The Moz Blog http://tracking.feedpress.it/link/9375/12770048

#The Moz Blog

[theinjectlikes2]

Kindness as Currency: How Good Deeds Can Benefit Your Local Business

Posted by MiriamEllis

“To receive everything, one must open one’s hands and give.” - Taisen Deshimaru, Buddhist philosopher

A woman stands in a busy supermarket checkout line. The shopper in front of her realizes that they don’t have enough money with them to cover their purchase, so she steps in and makes up the balance. Then, when she reaches the checkout, her own receipt totals up higher than she was expecting. She doesn’t have enough left in her purse.

“No problem,” says the young clerk and swipes his own debit card to pay for her groceries.

A bystander snaps a photo and posts the story to Facebook. The story ends up on local radio and TV news. Unstructured citations for the grocery store start crackling like popcorn. National news takes notice. A scholarship foundation presents a check to the clerk. When asked how he felt about it, the clerk said:

“Personally, I think it’s undeserved attention. Because she did something so good … I felt like it was my responsibility to return the favor.”

In the process, if only for a moment in time, an everyday supermarket is transformed into a rescue operation for hope in humanity. Through the lens of local SEO, it’s also a lesson in how good deeds can be rewarded by good mentions.

Studying business kindness can be a rewarding task for any motivated digital marketing agency or local brand owner. I hope this post will be both a pick-me-up for the day, and a rallying cry to begin having deeper conversations about the positive culture businesses can create in the communities they serve.

10+ evocative examples of business kindness

“We should love people and use things, but sadly, we love things and use people,” Roger Johnson, Artisan

As a youngster in the American workforce, I ran into some very peculiar styles of leadership.

For instance, one boss gruffly told me not to waste too much time chatting with the elderly customers who especially loved buying from me...as if customer support doesn’t make or break business reputations.

And then there was the cranky school secretary who reprimanded me for giving ice packs to children because she believed they were only “trying to get attention” … as if schools don’t exist to lavish focus on the kids in their care.

In other words, both individuals would have preferred me to be less kind, less human, than more so.

Perhaps it was these experiences of my superiors taking a miserly approach to workplace human kindness that inspired me to keep a little file of outbreaks of goodwill that earned online renown. These examples beg self-reflective questions of any local business owner:

If you launched your brand in the winter, would you have opened your doors while under construction to shelter and feed housing-insecure neighbors?

If a neighboring business was struggling, would you offer them floor space in your shop to help them survive?

Would your brand’s culture inspire an employee to cut up an elder’s ham for him if he needed help? How awesome would it be if a staffer of yours had a day named after her for her kindness? Would your employees comp a meal for a hungry neighbor or pay a customer’s $200 tab because they saw them hold open a door for a differently-abled guest?

What good things might happen in a community you serve if you started mailing out postcards promoting positivity?

What if you gave flowers to strangers, including moms, on Mother’s Day?

How deeply are you delving into the season of giving at the holidays? What if, like one business owner, you opened shop on Thanksgiving just to help a family find a gift for a foster child? You might wake up to international fame on Monday morning.

What if visitors to your community had their bikes stolen on a road trip and your shop gifted them new bikes and ended up on the news?

One business owner was so grateful for his community’s help in overcoming addiction, he’s been washing their signage for free. What has your community done for you and how have you thanked them?

What if all you had to do was something really small, like replacing negative “towed at your own expense” signs by welcoming quick stop parking?

What if you, just for a day, you asked customers to pay for their purchases with kind acts?

I only know about these stories because of the unstructured citations (online references to a local business) they generated. They earned online publicity, radio, and television press. The fame for some was small and local, for others, internationally viral. Some activities were planned, but many others took place on the spur of the moment. Kindness, empathy, and gratitude, flow through them all like a river of hope, inviting every business owner to catch the current in their own way. One easy way for local business owners to keep better track of any positive mentions is by managing and monitoring reviews online with the New Moz Local.

See your online presence

Can kindness be taught in the workplace?

In Demark, schoolchildren learn empathy as a class subject. The country is routinely rated as one of the happiest in the world. At Moz, we have the TAGFEE code, which includes both generosity and empathy, and our company offers internal workshops on things like “How to be TAGFEE when you disagree.” We are noted for the kindness of our customer support, as in the above review.

According to Stanford psychologist Jamil Zaki, people “catch” cooperation and generosity from others. In his study, the monetary amount donors gave to charity went up or down based on whether they were told their peers gave much or little. They matched the generosity or stinginess they witnessed. In part two of the study, the groups who had seen others donating generously went on to offer greater empathy in writing letters to penpals suffering hard times. In other words, kindness isn’t just contagious — its impact can spread across multiple activities.

Mercedes-Benz CEO, Stephen Cannon, wanted employees to catch the kindness bug because of its profound impact on sales. He invited his workforce to join a “grassroots movement” that resulted in surprising shoppers with birthday cakes, staff rushing to remote locations with spare tires, and other memorable consumer experiences. Cannon noted:

“There is no scientific process, no algorithm, to inspire a salesperson or a service person to do something extraordinary. The only way you get there is to educate people, excite them, incite them. Give them permission to rise to the occasion when the occasion to do something arises. This is not about following instructions. It’s about taking a leap of faith.”

In a 2018 article, I highlighted the reviews of a pharmacy that made it apparent that staff wasn’t empowered to do the simplest self-determined acts, like providing a chair for a sick man who was about to fall down in a long prescription counter line. By contrast, an Inc. book review of Jill Lublin’s The Profits of Kindness states:

“Organizations that trade in kindness allow their employees to give that currency away. If you're a waitress, can you give someone a free piece of pie because the kid at the next table spilled milk on their foot? If you're a clerk in a hotel, do you have the authority to give someone a discounted rate because you can tell they've had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day?”

There may be no formula for teaching kindness, but if Zaki is right, then leadership can be the starting point of demonstrative empathy that can emanate through the staff and to its customers. How do you build for that?

A cared-for workforce for customer service excellence

You can find examples of individual employees behaving with radical kindness despite working for brands that routinely disregard workers’ basic needs. But, this hardly seems ideal. How much better to build a business on empathy and generosity so that cared-for staff can care for customers.

I ran a very quick Twitter poll to ask employees what their very most basic need is:

Unsurprisingly, the majority of respondents cited a living wage as their top requirement. Owners developing a kind workforce must ensure that staff are housing-and-food-secure, and can afford the basic dignities of life. Any brand that can’t pay its staff a living wage isn’t really operational — it’s exploitation.

Beyond the bare minimums, Mercer’s Global Talent Trends 2019 Survey of 7,300 executives, HR experts, and employees highlighted trending worker emphasis on:

Flexibility in both hours and location to create a healthy work/life balance

Ethics in company technology, practices, and transparency

Equity in pay ratios, regardless of gender

Empathy in the workplace, both internally and in having a positive societal impact with customers

It’s just not very hard to connect the dots between a workforce that has its basic and aspirational needs met, and one possessing the physical, mental and emotional health to extend those values to consumers. As I found in a recent study of my own, 70 percent of negative review resolution was driven by brands having to overcome bad/rude service with subsequent caring service.

Even at the smallest local business level, caring policies and initiatives that generate kindness are within reach, with Gallup reporting that SMBs have America’s happiest and most engaged workers. Check out Forbes list of the best small companies of 2019 and note the repeated emphasis on employee satisfaction.

Kindness as currency, with limitless growth potential

“I wanted a tangible item that could track acts of kindness. From that, the Butterfly Coin emerged.” Bruce Pedersen, Butterfly Coins

Maybe someday, you’ll be the lucky recipient of a Butterfly Coin, equipped with a unique tracking code, and gifted to you by someone doing a kind act. Then, you’ll do something nice for somebody and pass it on, recording your story amongst thousands of others around the world. People, it seems, are so eager for tokens of kindness that the first mint sold out almost immediately.

The butterfly effect (the inspiration for the name of these coins) in chaos theory holds that a small action can trigger multiple subsequent actions at a remove. In a local business setting, an owner could publicly reward an employee’s contributions, which could cause the employee to spread their extra happiness to twenty customers that day, which could cause those customers to be in a mood to tip waitstaff extra, which could cause the waitstaff to comp meals for hungry neighbors sitting on their doorsteps, and on and on it goes.

There’s an artisan in Gig Harbor, WA who rewards kindnesses via turtle figurines. There are local newspapers that solicit stories of kindness. There are towns that have inaugurated acts-of-kindness weeks. There is even a suburb in Phoenix, AZ that re-dubbed itself Kindness, USA. (I mentioned, I’ve been keeping a file).

The most priceless aspect of kindness is that it’s virtually limitless. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be quantified. The Butterfly Coin idea is attempting to track kindness, and as a local business owner, you have a practical means of parsing it, too. It will turn up in unstructured citations, reviews, and social media, if you originate it at the leadership level, and share it out from employee to customer with an open hand.

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Kindness as Currency: How Good Deeds Can Benefit Your Local Business

Posted by MiriamEllis

“To receive everything, one must open one’s hands and give.” - Taisen Deshimaru, Buddhist philosopher

A woman stands in a busy supermarket checkout line. The shopper in front of her realizes that they don’t have enough money with them to cover their purchase, so she steps in and makes up the balance. Then, when she reaches the checkout, her own receipt totals up higher than she was expecting. She doesn’t have enough left in her purse.

“No problem,” says the young clerk and swipes his own debit card to pay for her groceries.

A bystander snaps a photo and posts the story to Facebook. The story ends up on local radio and TV news. Unstructured citations for the grocery store start crackling like popcorn. National news takes notice. A scholarship foundation presents a check to the clerk. When asked how he felt about it, the clerk said:

“Personally, I think it’s undeserved attention. Because she did something so good … I felt like it was my responsibility to return the favor.”

In the process, if only for a moment in time, an everyday supermarket is transformed into a rescue operation for hope in humanity. Through the lens of local SEO, it’s also a lesson in how good deeds can be rewarded by good mentions.

Studying business kindness can be a rewarding task for any motivated digital marketing agency or local brand owner. I hope this post will be both a pick-me-up for the day, and a rallying cry to begin having deeper conversations about the positive culture businesses can create in the communities they serve.

10+ evocative examples of business kindness

“We should love people and use things, but sadly, we love things and use people,” Roger Johnson, Artisan

As a youngster in the American workforce, I ran into some very peculiar styles of leadership.

For instance, one boss gruffly told me not to waste too much time chatting with the elderly customers who especially loved buying from me...as if customer support doesn’t make or break business reputations.

And then there was the cranky school secretary who reprimanded me for giving ice packs to children because she believed they were only “trying to get attention” … as if schools don’t exist to lavish focus on the kids in their care.

In other words, both individuals would have preferred me to be less kind, less human, than more so.

Perhaps it was these experiences of my superiors taking a miserly approach to workplace human kindness that inspired me to keep a little file of outbreaks of goodwill that earned online renown. These examples beg self-reflective questions of any local business owner:

If you launched your brand in the winter, would you have opened your doors while under construction to shelter and feed housing-insecure neighbors?

If a neighboring business was struggling, would you offer them floor space in your shop to help them survive?

Would your brand’s culture inspire an employee to cut up an elder’s ham for him if he needed help? How awesome would it be if a staffer of yours had a day named after her for her kindness? Would your employees comp a meal for a hungry neighbor or pay a customer’s $200 tab because they saw them hold open a door for a differently-abled guest?

What good things might happen in a community you serve if you started mailing out postcards promoting positivity?

What if you gave flowers to strangers, including moms, on Mother’s Day?

How deeply are you delving into the season of giving at the holidays? What if, like one business owner, you opened shop on Thanksgiving just to help a family find a gift for a foster child? You might wake up to international fame on Monday morning.

What if visitors to your community had their bikes stolen on a road trip and your shop gifted them new bikes and ended up on the news?

One business owner was so grateful for his community’s help in overcoming addiction, he’s been washing their signage for free. What has your community done for you and how have you thanked them?

What if all you had to do was something really small, like replacing negative “towed at your own expense” signs by welcoming quick stop parking?

What if you, just for a day, you asked customers to pay for their purchases with kind acts?

I only know about these stories because of the unstructured citations (online references to a local business) they generated. They earned online publicity, radio, and television press. The fame for some was small and local, for others, internationally viral. Some activities were planned, but many others took place on the spur of the moment. Kindness, empathy, and gratitude, flow through them all like a river of hope, inviting every business owner to catch the current in their own way. One easy way for local business owners to keep better track of any positive mentions is by managing and monitoring reviews online with the New Moz Local.

See your online presence

Can kindness be taught in the workplace?

In Demark, schoolchildren learn empathy as a class subject. The country is routinely rated as one of the happiest in the world. At Moz, we have the TAGFEE code, which includes both generosity and empathy, and our company offers internal workshops on things like “How to be TAGFEE when you disagree.” We are noted for the kindness of our customer support, as in the above review.

According to Stanford psychologist Jamil Zaki, people “catch” cooperation and generosity from others. In his study, the monetary amount donors gave to charity went up or down based on whether they were told their peers gave much or little. They matched the generosity or stinginess they witnessed. In part two of the study, the groups who had seen others donating generously went on to offer greater empathy in writing letters to penpals suffering hard times. In other words, kindness isn’t just contagious — its impact can spread across multiple activities.

Mercedes-Benz CEO, Stephen Cannon, wanted employees to catch the kindness bug because of its profound impact on sales. He invited his workforce to join a “grassroots movement” that resulted in surprising shoppers with birthday cakes, staff rushing to remote locations with spare tires, and other memorable consumer experiences. Cannon noted:

“There is no scientific process, no algorithm, to inspire a salesperson or a service person to do something extraordinary. The only way you get there is to educate people, excite them, incite them. Give them permission to rise to the occasion when the occasion to do something arises. This is not about following instructions. It’s about taking a leap of faith.”

In a 2018 article, I highlighted the reviews of a pharmacy that made it apparent that staff wasn’t empowered to do the simplest self-determined acts, like providing a chair for a sick man who was about to fall down in a long prescription counter line. By contrast, an Inc. book review of Jill Lublin’s The Profits of Kindness states:

“Organizations that trade in kindness allow their employees to give that currency away. If you're a waitress, can you give someone a free piece of pie because the kid at the next table spilled milk on their foot? If you're a clerk in a hotel, do you have the authority to give someone a discounted rate because you can tell they've had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day?”

There may be no formula for teaching kindness, but if Zaki is right, then leadership can be the starting point of demonstrative empathy that can emanate through the staff and to its customers. How do you build for that?

A cared-for workforce for customer service excellence

You can find examples of individual employees behaving with radical kindness despite working for brands that routinely disregard workers’ basic needs. But, this hardly seems ideal. How much better to build a business on empathy and generosity so that cared-for staff can care for customers.

I ran a very quick Twitter poll to ask employees what their very most basic need is:

Unsurprisingly, the majority of respondents cited a living wage as their top requirement. Owners developing a kind workforce must ensure that staff are housing-and-food-secure, and can afford the basic dignities of life. Any brand that can’t pay its staff a living wage isn’t really operational — it’s exploitation.

Beyond the bare minimums, Mercer’s Global Talent Trends 2019 Survey of 7,300 executives, HR experts, and employees highlighted trending worker emphasis on:

Flexibility in both hours and location to create a healthy work/life balance

Ethics in company technology, practices, and transparency

Equity in pay ratios, regardless of gender

Empathy in the workplace, both internally and in having a positive societal impact with customers

It’s just not very hard to connect the dots between a workforce that has its basic and aspirational needs met, and one possessing the physical, mental and emotional health to extend those values to consumers. As I found in a recent study of my own, 70 percent of negative review resolution was driven by brands having to overcome bad/rude service with subsequent caring service.

Even at the smallest local business level, caring policies and initiatives that generate kindness are within reach, with Gallup reporting that SMBs have America’s happiest and most engaged workers. Check out Forbes list of the best small companies of 2019 and note the repeated emphasis on employee satisfaction.

Kindness as currency, with limitless growth potential

“I wanted a tangible item that could track acts of kindness. From that, the Butterfly Coin emerged.” Bruce Pedersen, Butterfly Coins

Maybe someday, you’ll be the lucky recipient of a Butterfly Coin, equipped with a unique tracking code, and gifted to you by someone doing a kind act. Then, you’ll do something nice for somebody and pass it on, recording your story amongst thousands of others around the world. People, it seems, are so eager for tokens of kindness that the first mint sold out almost immediately.

The butterfly effect (the inspiration for the name of these coins) in chaos theory holds that a small action can trigger multiple subsequent actions at a remove. In a local business setting, an owner could publicly reward an employee’s contributions, which could cause the employee to spread their extra happiness to twenty customers that day, which could cause those customers to be in a mood to tip waitstaff extra, which could cause the waitstaff to comp meals for hungry neighbors sitting on their doorsteps, and on and on it goes.

There’s an artisan in Gig Harbor, WA who rewards kindnesses via turtle figurines. There are local newspapers that solicit stories of kindness. There are towns that have inaugurated acts-of-kindness weeks. There is even a suburb in Phoenix, AZ that re-dubbed itself Kindness, USA. (I mentioned, I’ve been keeping a file).

The most priceless aspect of kindness is that it’s virtually limitless. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be quantified. The Butterfly Coin idea is attempting to track kindness, and as a local business owner, you have a practical means of parsing it, too. It will turn up in unstructured citations, reviews, and social media, if you originate it at the leadership level, and share it out from employee to customer with an open hand.

Sign up for The Moz Top 10, a semimonthly mailer updating you on the top ten hottest pieces of SEO news, tips, and rad links uncovered by the Moz team. Think of it as your exclusive digest of stuff you don't have time to hunt down but want to read!