#should be fine… but the logo on the top left!!! what the HECK is that thing!!!

[artsy-dreamer]

Looking up art references… it’s all fun and games until you get stuck on that one very specific detail that you can’t find a good reference for ANYWHERE

#artsy talks #artist life #man XD #I’m planning some haikyuu art but I keep getting hung up on the details of #the nekoma uniform… first I couldn’t find the right font for the kanji on the jersey #but that does seem to shift around a bit in the series so the close-enough font I found #should be fine… but the logo on the top left!!! what the HECK is that thing!!! #the wiki was NO help on that one :p some weird squiggly shape with… some kind of #text under it?? I cannot find a clear reference for that ANYWHERE what on earth!!! #again I could PROBABLY get away with just drawing some squiggles #but dang it I need answers XD lol imagine how crazy it’s gonna be once I ACTUALLY #start drawing lol :p #but yeah getting stuck on that ONE reference… that has been an artist mood many times lol

[mischiefandspirits]

Titanic Beginnings

Part of the Six for the Age of One AU

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dick was excited when Bruce helped form the Justice League, babbling on about Bruce’s new friends and begging to meet them. Damian also wanted to meet the JL, but to appraise them to see if they were worthy of his father’s time and ensure they were capable of watching Batman’s back.

Not wanting the boys to get involved in the more punishing missions the JL faced, Bruce continually denied their requests.

That was ruined during a meeting a month later when Superman sheepishly admitted that his sons had also been badgering him and his wife to meet the other JL members and asked if he could bring the boys to the next meeting.

Green Arrow, Hawkgirl, Green Lantern, and Martian Manhunter appeared as resistant as Bruce. However, Wonder Woman adored children and agreed before any of them could speak up. She even offered to bring her young sister to keep them company. Aquaman agreed as well, mentioning that his apprentice could use the land experience. Flash and Black Canary were fine with it, which left the League at an even split.

At a nudge from Canary, Arrow broke the tie by reluctantly agreeing to bring his protégé.

Any ideas Batman had at keeping his boys out of it were dashed when Lantern turned to him and asked if he would also be bringing his kids. Superman sent him a look that clearly stated he would invite the boys if Batman didn’t so the Gotham vigilante nodded after giving Lantern a fierce glare.

Batman, Robin, and Serin were the first ones to the temporary headquarters the Justice League were using while Batman, Arrow, and Lantern finished the work on the space station they were retrofitting.

Before they arrived, Bruce had reminded Dick that, allies or not, only Superman knew the Bats’ identities and it was to remain that way for the time being. He had also negotiated with Damian. The boy wouldn’t challenge anyone to a fight and would abide by sparring rules with anyone who challenged him, no matter what abilities they may have. In return, the boy could assess whoever he wanted. He also allowed the boys to bring their dogs, hoping that would help keep Damian from going too far.

Titus (or Birdhound as Dick insisted despite Damian’s arguments that Great Danes weren’t hounds) had swapped out his red collar for a yellow one that matched Serin’s belt and had a tag with Serin’s logo on it. He also wore a grey ballistic vest with dark coral straps and handle. Haley (or Bitewing, a play on a character from Dick’s favorite story in Bruce’s extraterrestrial files) had a green collar with Robin’s logo hanging from it in place of her usual blue. Her vest was red with canary straps and handle.

Robin and Bitewing immediately went off to explore while Serin and Birdhound stayed at Batman’s side as he got things ready for the meeting. The boy kept an eye on the meeting room’s door, so he was the first one to notice the Supers’ arrival.

Superman was talking to his foster son when they walked in, his younger son flying over them with wide eyes. Superboy (aka nine-year-old Jonathan Kent) nearly looked like the spitting image of his father with his blue-black curls and neon blue eyes that didn’t quite look human, though his nose and lips were shaped a bit more like his mother. Meanwhile Hyper (aka fourteen-year-old Christopher Kent) only shared his foster father’s physique, his skin not having that same natural sun-kissed look while his hair was a dirty blond and his eyes were a bright amber that was just a little too close to yellow to be humanly possible. Superboy was wearing jeans, red high tops, and a Superman costume shirt that had a small red cape attached. Hyper was even more underdressed in just jeans, black tenner shoes, a yellow and blue flannel, and a black shirt. A black band wrapped around his wrist, appearing to all the world like a watch though, having helped create it, Batman knew it was a device to help Earth’s newest kryptonian keep control of the powers he’d developed on arrival.

Robin reappeared suddenly, dropping down onto Superman’s shoulders. “Heya, Kal!”

“Hello, Robin,” the man chuckled.

The twelve-year-old did a backbend so he could hold a hand out to the older boy. “Hi! You’re Hyper right? Kal’s told us about you.”

“Oh, yeah. Or K’Riss. Uh, K’Riss-El, but just K’Riss is fine,” Hyper said, accepting the hand.

“And I’m Jon!” Superboy said, dropping down in front of Batman and Serin. He smiled up at the man before holding his hand out to the other boy. “Dad’s told us about you too. Nice to meet you. I like your dog. Can I pet him?”

The eleven-year-old looked at the hand, then glanced over Superboy’s outfit. “No. What kind of attire is that for fighting crime?”

The half-kryptonian looked down at his clothes and shrugged. “I thought it looked cool.”

“It offers no protection.”

“They’re kryptonians,” Robin pointed out as he stood up on Superman’s shoulders so he could pet Bitewing, who was leaning out of a vent on the ceiling. “Their skin is better armor than the stuff we wear.”

“What if they were to lose their abilities? A shard of kryptonite would easily pass through that flimsy shirt.”

Superboy frowned and glanced back at his dad, which gave Batman time to give his son a reprimanding look and hold out his hand.

Serin scowled and palmed him a small lead case.

The Supers didn’t notice the actions, distracted by unsuccessfully trying to get Bitewing out of the vent.

“Neither of us really dressed for fighting crime,” Hyper said over Robin’s soft cackling, pulling away from the vent. “Jon’s too young for that stuff and I’m still getting my powers under control. Our superhero names are more honorary than anything.”

Clicking his tongue, Serin crossed his arms. “Heroes or not, we are in the base of a team of superheroes. You should be prepared to be attacked at any minute by any of the members’ various enemies.”

Superman aimed an incredulous look at Bruce, who shrugged.

His son wasn’t wrong.

“Hello there!” Wonder Woman called as she walked in with a teenage girl in red and black Amazonian armor.

The girl looked exactly like a fifteen-year-old version of her sister with her curly brown-black hair, warm olive skin, and dark green eyes. She gave a smile that looked a bit more forced than her sister’s, which quickly dropped away when she noticed Superman still near the vent with Robin clinging to his back. “Why is there a dog up there?”

“She likes it in there,” Batman grunted when Wonder Woman looked like she was going to try to help as well.

“She’s Robin’s,” Serin added, which did explain it if you knew Robin.

“Dogs shouldn’t be inside vents,” Wonder Woman said pointedly.

“And children shouldn’t nap in chandeliers,” Batman muttered, earning snorts from Serin and Superman. Accepting that the issue wasn’t going to be dropped, he gave Robin a look.

The boy pouted, then gave a sharp whistle. Instantly the pitbull sprung from the vent, hopping off superman’s chest, then Hyper’s shoulders, before landing on the ground as gracefully as her boy despite her missing limb. Robin dropped to the ground next to her and scratched her neck before grabbing the handle on her vest and going over to greet the Amazons.

Wonder Woman introduced her sister as Troia, who had recently left Themyscira so she could learn more about Man’s World at her sister’s side.

After respectfully greeting the sisters, Serin turned to Superboy. “See, the Amazons wear armor.”

“Well, they aren’t quite as durable as us,” Superboy shot back.

“They also don’t have a well-known weakness to a rock, yet they still understand the necessity to be prepared for battle.”

“So that one is definitely Spooky’s,” Lantern joked as he walked in with Hawkgirl.

Robin did a cartwheel into a backflip, landing in front of the two with Bitewing racing to stay by his side. He gave the heroes a wide grin, leaning cutely against the alert dog. “Hi, I’m Robin! It’s so nice to meet B’s friends! I like your wings, Ms. Hawkgirl! They’re very pretty!”

“Thank you,” she said, bemused.

Lantern gave Batman a smirk as he shook Robin’s hand. “You sure this one’s yours and not Supe’s or Wonder Woman’s?”

Robin’s grin turned sharp, then he pulled away.

A green flash lit the room and Lantern was left in just a black tanktop, Flash sweatpants, and mismatched fuzzy socks. The man yelped and looked down to find his ring missing from his hand. His gaze shot up, but Robin and Bitewing had disappeared with the light. “What the heck!?”

The boy’s laughter echoed around the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere.

“Okay, maybe he is yours.”

“Why is Lantern in his sleeping clothes?” Martian Manhunter asked as he and Aquaman came in with a young Atlantean.

“Robin stole his ring right off his hand,” Hawkgirl answered with poorly hidden laughter in her voice.

The test pilot scowled and held out his hand. His ring shot out from inside Batman’s cape. As it slid onto Lantern’s finger, returning his suit in a flicker of green, Robin and Bitewing poked their heads out of the fabric. He pointed at the smug boy. “You won’t do that again.”

“Unless I want to.”

“Kid -”

“Hey, my first idea was to come up and throat-punch you so be glad I just stole your ring,” he snickered, slipping back into the shadows. “Can’t talk bad about my family if you can’t breathe.”

“It seems the Bat’s family are as entertaining as he is,” Aquaman joked. He set his hand on the young Atlantean’s shoulder. “Speaking of family, this is my mother’s ward and my apprentice, Aqualad. Lad, this is the Justice League and their young companions.”

The boy appeared to be around fifteen with alabaster skin that was edging towards grey. His eyes were plum-colored and his hair was long and pitch black. With teeth slightly sharper than a human’s, he smiled and gave a small bow. “A pleasure. You may call me Garth.”

Baring the Bats, the group all greeted Aqualad cheerfully. Batman grunted and nodded with Serin copying his actions while Robin’s hand poked out of the cape to wave.

Before anyone could introduce themselves to the newcomers, Arrow and Canary entered with a grumpy thirteen-year-old.

Speedy had fair skin and pale red hair, alongside eyes hidden behind a domino mask like the ones Robin and Serin wore. Batman knew from his day-life that Speedy’s backstory wasn’t too far off from Robin’s. He’d gotten Oliver Queen’s attention during an archery contest so when the boy’s adopted father died, Oliver took him in.

“Are we the last ones here?” Canary asked.

“We’re still waiting on Flash,” Wonder Woman answered.

“As per usual,” Hawkgirl joked.

“Well, in the meantime,” Arrow set a hand on Speedy’s shoulder, “this is Speedy.”

“���Sup,” he said, giving a sarcastic salute.

Introductions went around. Robin took the distraction as his chance to slip out and greet Aqualad and Speedy properly. As the time for the meeting grew closer, the group got the kids settled in a room near the meeting room. Just as they were about to leave for the meeting, a steak of red shot into the room.

“Sorry I’m late,” Flash said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You’re actually on time,” Superman said. “Though you’ll have to wait to meet the kids until after the meeting.”

“About that…”

A second streak came into the room, which turned out to be a red-headed teenager. The boy was tan and freckled. When he pulled up his goggles to smile at the group, his eyes proved to be a grassy green. “Hi, there! I’m Kid Flash!”

The group turned to Flash, who was pinching the bridge of his nose. “My nephew became a speedster last week. I’m training him how to use his powers.”

“Then I’m going to be his sidekick!”

Batman held back a snort at the imploring expression Flash gave him and Superman. The kryptonian patted the speedster on the back and led him out of the room with the others following.

Behave, Batman said with a grunt, giving his boys the kind of glare that would have the JL flinching back and the criminals of Gotham fleeing.

Robin batted his eyes innocently and Serin gave a half-hearted nod.

When the meeting was through, the adults returned to find the room worse for wear.

Robin and Kid Flash were sitting cross-legged on a battered table (one of the few remaining pieces of furniture) with Bitewing draped over their laps. They were both fidgeting with the dog’s ears and tail as they happily talked about a fight the Bats had recently had with Penguin.

Serin and Troia were standing off to the side near some cracked flooring, talking about the Amazonian knife she was showing him. Superboy was sitting on the floor next to them, though he appeared more focused on the pets he was giving Birdhound.

The last three boys were standing next to a hole in the wall. The older two were inspecting the hole with guilty frowns while a snickering Speedy patted Hyper on the back, looking more relaxed despite the bruise on his cheek.

“What happened in here?” Arrow asked, all the adults except Superman and Batman looking shocked at the destruction.

“Sparring competition,” Superman answered, proving he’d kept an ear on the kids throughout the meeting.

“We locked a bunch of superpowered and vigilante children in a room together. I’m just pleased the room’s still standing,” Batman added.

Robin and Kid Flash laughed while Speedy bit down his own laughter at a look from Arrow.

Lantern slapped the archer on the back. “Lighten up. As much as I hate to admit it, Spooky’s got a point. We should have known the kids would screw around and set them up somewhere a little less fragile. So, who won?”

“Troia, technically, since Robin was disqualified after the tournament was over,” Kid Flash said.

Batman turned to Robin, who gave a wide grin. “I don’t want to know.”

“I would have won had I had my full arsenal,” Serin said petulantly.

“He was eliminated because Superboy managed to bear hug him right at the start of their go and he couldn’t squirm free before the time ended,” Robin explained.

“You utilized kryptonite in your spar with a kryptonian so I do not see why I couldn’t!”

Superman gave Batman a look and the vigilante sighed, holding out his hand.

Robin skipped forward and dropped a lead case into his palm. “For the record, I brought blue kryptonite.”

“Was that why you were disqualified?”

“No.”

I will be having a conversation with both of you when we get home, he said with a grunt and put the case in his belt.

“And how did you fare?” Aquaman asked his apprentice, coming over to set his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“I won my match against Kid Flash, but Robin proved too formidable an opponent.”

“I lost first round to Troia,” Speedy said before Arrow could ask as he and Canary came up to the teen.

“His close combat abilities could use some work, but his skills with a bow are comparable to some of our best archers,” Troia argued. “Had our arena been larger, the fight would have been much closer.”

“Yeah, Arrow’s not too good at close range either,” Canary said, earning a huff from her boyfriend. “Don’t worry, kid. I’ll show you a few tricks.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you're wondering why I put Donna in armor instead of one of the suits she wears in the comics, I ask you this: Why the flip would she want to wear some spandex suit when she could wear sick Amazonian armor? This applies to Cassie too.

And yes, Dick's treatment of Hal is a reference to a certain movie and a certain TikToker. Thanks for asking.

#batman #dick grayson #robin #damian wayne #teen titans #Robins are the Same Age AU #fanfiction #64ao1

[razorblade180]

Mother’s Day

[Twin Snowflakes]

It’s early in the morning. Weiss has just woken up to something a bit out of the ordinary. Someone had picked her outfit out already. It was an office dress; nothing too special. Except it was pure black with a glittery red belt and a slit in the dress on the left side. What made it strange though was Someone placed her black wig and red contacts next to it.

Needless to say, she was intrigued and was going to wear it. In a matter of minutes she was walking through her hallways in it.

Bleiss:Hello!? Yo, my little rugrats?.....Babe? I know one of you has to awa-

She turned the corner to see Jaune in a dashing white business suit and an over the top decorative bow on his head that was held in place by ribbon that went over his body; complete with a note.

Bleiss:Well hey there sexy. Looking a bit finer than usual.

Jaune:And you look every bit as gorgeous as the day I met you; better in fact.

Bleiss:*red* Are you going to read that note for me handsome?

Jaune:*clears throat* “Dear Mother Goose-

Bleiss:*snorts* (These kids...)

Jaune: “Happy Mother’s Day! We took deliberately or persuading dad to put on the suit you bought for him and waking up early enough to make breakfast downstairs. We’ll be out the house until dinner time. With love, you little rugrats.”

Bleiss:Should we be concerned our children basically know what we- what I like to do when we have alone time?

Jaune:You’re not exactly subtle when you’re like this.

Bleiss:I can’t help that you’re so irresistible. Though I don’t get what’s up with my suit.

Jaune:That wasn’t them. It was all me. I already said this but...

He saunters over to Bleiss who can’t help but smirk as his hand reaches for her waist and pulls her closer.

Jaune:You look really gorgeous today.

Bleiss:Isn’t breakfast waiting for us?

Jaune:That look in your eyes tell me you aren’t that hungry.

Bleiss:Not for food, no. So you gonna kiss me already or-mmph!?

Her words were cut off by a deep and loving kiss. What a good way to start the morning.

xxxx

Nora woke up and did her usual morning routine. Shower, stretching, and her workout clothes. Time to start the day. She walked over to her bed and kissed her sleeping husband on the cheek “Bye sweetie.” Nora said, before heading out of the room.

She almost made it out of her home when something caught her eye. A light from another room was coming from around the corner. The kitchen? Nora made her way towards the kitchen and hit with the glorious smell of pancakes. A hardy stack of them in heart shapes were on the counter while Valerie was washing the pan that they were made in. The girl grabbed two forks and an obscene amount of syrup.

Nora:Well whay do we have here!? Color me impressed.

Valerie:Happy Mother’s Day. How about we also make it a cheat day?

Nora:I say we are going to need a hundred more pancakes before it counts as a cheat day.

Ren:*walks in* Then I guess you need a master chef.

Nora:Oh you’re awake!

Ren:*kisses her cheek* Today is a special day.

Valerie:Let’s chow down!

Ren and Nora:Yeah!

xxxx

knock knock knock

Ruby:*opens door* Hello-

Summer:*holding a cookie jar* We know this might be a bit weird but....

Nick:*holding Roses* You’re basically like a mom to us too.

Summer and Nick:So Happy Mo-

Ruby pulls both of them into a giant hug and holds them close. The twins look a little stunned at first before hearing Ruby sniffle softly. They not wrap their arms around her in a loving embrace.

Ruby:Thank you....

xxxx

Veronica:Hey mom? Can you come here real quick and help me with some fabric?

Blake:I’m a little busy at the moment.

Veronica:*pouts* It would really be appreciated. If you could help. It would only take second.

Blake:*walking in* If it’s that easy than why- shut the fuck up!!!! Is this....!?

In that moment, Blake remembered what today was. She had been so busy with work that it crossed her mind. Even if she never forgotten, Blake would’ve been happy with a card. Instead she stood in front of an elegant kunoichi inspired outfit. The base was black win a purple haze design that went around it as if to give it a smokey look. Dark purple was also the color of the hems and sleeve cuffs with the black becoming accent on it. All topped off with a beautiful purple bow tied in the back. This alone was exceptional, but something made it better. It was....

Blake:Is this a replica of the main protagonist’s outfit from Ninjas of Love!?

Veronica:To. The. Last. Stitch.

Blake:*tearing up* Veronica this is outstanding! Wait, why are you reading-

Veronica:*red* I like the plot! Moving on... I hope you enjoy this and I don’t know if you’ll get the perfect opportunity to wear this but hey. I’m sure you’ll find an excuse.

Blake:You know I will. *hugs her* I love you.

Veronica:*purring* I know!

Yang:Hey have you seen- woah is that...?

Blake:Yeah it is!

Yang:Veronica knocked it out of the park this year.

Veronica:It’s you that’s the tricky one. *red* Your gift is a little more abstract. I know I’m usually busy and not the easiest person to deal with. I also know we don’t really spend time together that much anymore so-

Yang.*hugging her* Is someone trying to spend the entire day with me?

Veronica:If...that’s okay?

Yang:Silly kitty. It’s always going to be okay. I love you.

Veronica:I....I love you too.

xxxx

*door opens*

Nick:We’re back!

Summer:Please be decent!

Jaune:*making dinner* We’ve been decent for hours.

Summer:We never know with you two. (I’m surprised we don’t have another set of twins or something.)

Nick:Now then, did we come home to mother goose or mama duck? *smiling*

He got his answer answer in the form of long white hair coming from around the kitchen corner and rushing over to grab both him and his sister. All three falling over to the ground as they laughed and hugged each other.

Weiss:Hello my baby ducklings!

Summer and Nick:Happy Mother’s Day mom!

Weiss:It really is, isn’t it?

[Lasting Embers]

Raven:Hey, I’m going out Tai.

Tai:Before you go can you stop by Yang’s and drop off those sunflowers?

Raven:Her house is the complete opposite direction.

Tai:Just open a portal.

Raven:Fine. *opens portal* You know a present means more if-

Yang:SURPRISE!!!

Without warning, Yang comes jumping through from the other side. Tackling Raven right to the ground and hugging her. Raven’s face turns red as she notices balloons and a box with the Schnee logo; most likely some high quality dust blades.

Raven:Yang!? What are you-

Yang:Happy Mother’s Day you grouchy mama bird. *grinning*

Raven:....

Raven:*smiles* After all these years you’re as energetic as ever. Once a baby bird, always a baby bird. *hugs her*

Yang:!!?*red*

Raven:Tai where you in on this?

Tai:Duh. I’m also in on Yang’s gift.

Yang:My gift? I was just home and got a card.

Tai:*smiles* But now you’re here and not home. A lot can change in a matter of minutes.

That peeked Yang’s interest. Her and Raven stared at the portal that was still opened in curiosity before getting up and jumping through. Tai chuckled at their anticipation and went through as well.

He was rewarded with the sight of his daughter covering her mouth with amazement as she tried not to jump up and down like a kid. They were all outside, including Jaune who was smiling. As well as Yujin who was also covered in motor oiled while she posed arms crossed right next to motorcycle that looked liked Yang’s old one.

Yujin:Meet bumblebee 2.0! Built from the ground up by yours truly after months of hardwork. You have many people to think for this accomplishment since this was no blueprints for the original.

Yang:How the heck did you get so accurate! The leather even feels right!

Yujin:Someone remembers what it felt like when it ran full force into him.

Yang:No fricken way....

Yujin:Adam says you’ll personally have to fight him again if you launch this bike at anyone or off a cliff.

Yang:Damnit, no I have to thank him. That was probably his plan from the get go.

Jaune:Stop whinnying and take this thing for a spin. *tosses her a helmet*

Yang:Wanna come admire your handiwork with your dear old mom Yujin?

Yujin:Hell Yeah!

Yang:Let’s go visit Tenzen.

Yujin:*pulls out scroll* He’s a bit busy.

She flips the scroll around and plays a video from earlier today.

Tenzen:*grinning* Hey Yujin, I think my mom likes her present. What’s your opinion? *flips camera around*

Nora:*holding a sloth* This is the greatest moment that has ever happened in my entire life...! He’s so cute!!!

xxxx

(Night time)

Jacquelyn:*watering flowers*..... (Hmm, haven’t seen the kids all day. They must be planning something, or maybe they forgot. No...well, they have been busy lately.)

A frown crept up on her face. She was used to simple gifts since money was tight so that wasn’t a problem. She just wanted them to say. Jacquelyn continue to get wrapped up in her thoughts until something cool ran across the top of her forehead. She looked up to see an orbs of water in front of her. They were floating, all the water she was pouring upwards; her entire body was floating. “Huh?”

A shadow drifted over her during this clear moon lit night; shadows that had horns and cat ears. Jacquelyn looked up with big smile to see her daughters floating towards her with petals of numerous flowers following them. All of them a variety of colors that rivaled any sunset or rainbow. The two grabbed their mom and put her right in the center of it all as they held her close.

Sienna:Happy Mother’s Day to the women who brings color to our lives...

Jael:And sweeps us off our feet.

Jacquelyn:Awww you guys. This is gorgeous.

Sienna:It took us longer than we thought to find enough flowers. This is the desert after all.

Jael:Not to mention the annoying grimm, but we managed!

Jacquelyn:You could’ve just gotten me a card.

Sienna:We do that every year! This one had to be special!

Jael:Yeah, you’re the best! With your powers now your garden will be twice as big.

Jacquelyn:*tearing up* Thank you. (Heh, I almost forgot. With these two....)

Sienna and Jael:We love you!)

Jacquelyn:*crying* (I’ll never be forgotten)

The three remained floating up there enjoying the view. Not knowing a certain someone was watching from below.

Adam:*smiling*

[Premonition]

Blake:*writing*

Secretary:Uh, Mrs Belladonna? It’s time for lunch.

Blake:That’s fine, I’ll just work through it. I have to these documents done by tomorrow night.

Secretary: Ah yes, he thought you might say that. Or I guess he knew you would.

Blake:!? “Knew?”

The secretary walked in a placed a bento box on her desk before leaving. Blake put down her pen and opened it to find it filled with various sushi; cooked and uncooked. Along with heart shaped rice balls and a note. Blake smiles and read it immediately.

“Do your best to unite the world. Can’t do it on an empty stomach though. Happy Mother’s Day.”

Blake:.....

Lucas:*laying in a hammock* (I wonder...if she’ll like it? I followed dad’s instructions but that doesn’t mean she’ll like it.) Hmmm

Blake:Someone looks concerned.

Lucas:Mom!? *sits up* Shouldn’t you be working!?

Blake:It’s lunch break. I wanna spend it with my special little guy. You made way too much food for one person you know? *smiles* Almost like you wanted me to come home to share. Predict that too?

Lucas:*red* More like wishful thinking.

Blake smiled and sat next to him. She quickly learned in a kissed his cheek which made Lucas wanna curl up in embarrassment and Blake laugh.

Blake:Wish granted.

Lucas:Happy Mother’s Day mom.

Blake:Hehe, thank you.

[Rosebud]

Another day, another job well done. For the most part anyways. A couple of nevermore had taken the wind out of Ruby’s sails by launching a feather at her right ankle. Now she was walking home with a limp. Crescent rose on her back didn’t make it easier, or the fact she was going through sand. At least she had the brains to take off her heels before reaching she made it to the rough terrain. The sun was setting but no grimm scared her; at this point she did not care about making everyone of them stone. If she can get over the sand dune in front of her that is.

Ruby:(Stupid nevermore with their stupid sharp feathers. Since when do they curve through the air? That’s definitely new.) Ugh, I’m definitely taking the longest bath when I get home.

???:That sounds nice.

Ruby’s head perked up immediately. She was a bit more tired than she thought. On top of the dune was a person. Not just anybody though, herself? All she saw was a silhouette but she was definitely looking at her old clothes from Atlas. The figure stepped closer and out of the glaring sunbeam. It was Carmine, and she was looking a bit winded herself.

Ruby was thrown for a loop on why her daughter was wearing those old clothes or looked like she ran a marathon. She didn’t get a chance to ask before Carmine lifted her mother up and onto her back; carrying Ruby up the dune.

Ruby:Ummm thank you? What’s this all about.

Carmine:You’re hurt. Why wouldn’t I carry you?

Ruby:I was talking more about the outfit. You aren’t a fan of skirts or anything too fancy.

Carmine:*blushing* Yeah well, I know how much you think I look cute in them so I thought I’d pick the coolest looking one,

Ruby:Awww for me? How cute.

Carmine:This goes right back in the box after today!

Ruby:So is this my gift?

Carmine:You’re a third right. The other half you’ll see when we get to the top.

Ruby:Ooooo

A few minutes passed before Ruby got why her daughter was tired. As they reached the top Ruby saw nothing but what looked like an ocean of crimson that surrounded her house down in the distances. “Is that red sand?”

“Look closer..” Carmine said. Ruby squinted and on closer inspection Ruby realize that the red she was seeing was roses. Hundreds of roses that each shimmered faintly like raindrops being hit by sunlight. “Woah.....”

Carmine smiled confidently. “Now look at it as a whole.”

“A whole? What, is it a pic-my symbol!?” Ruby screamed in shock. The roses were postponed perfectly to recreate her symbol with the house right in the center of it all.

Ruby:How the- this is- Carmine this is amazing! I didn’t even think you could make this many roses!

Carmine:Not without dad’s help. He’s almost has burnt out as I am. I’m sure both of you though will find your second wind in time for bed though.

Ruby:*Blushing* Carmine!

Carmine:Don’t be mad because I’m right. I’ll be knocked out though so I doubt you’ll wake me or Garnet.

Ruby:What’s the third part of this present?

Carmine:He’s at home with dad making cookies.

Ruby:Fuck yeah! This day rules. Worth the injury. Thanks sweetheart. *holds on tighter* You’ve really grown up strong huh? I’m glad....

Carmine:Hehe, I... had good teachers. Happy Mother’s Day....

#rwby #rwby au #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #jaune arc #nora valkyrie #lie ren #adam taurus #taiyang xiao long #raven branwen #jael frost #jacquelyn frost #rwby whiteknight #rwby knightshade #rwby lancaster #rwby dragonslayer #rwby rosebud #rwby lasting embers #rwby twin snowflakes #bleiss schnee #rwby premonition #carmine arc rose #yujin xiao long #nicholas schnee #summer schnee #lucas belladonna #lie tenzen #rwby bmblb

[clowndaydreams]

Yan!Marvus x Reader

I hope you all like it!

“Can you pass me the potato chips?” You looked over to your companion. Marvus nodded and reached over to get said bag from his side of the couch.

“here ya go.” You grunted a quick thank you to the clown and started to dig in. You had been hanging out with Marvus all day. You still couldn’t believe how friendly you’ve gotten with the superstar since you met him at that concert you went to. It had been a few perigrees since then, but the clown had since made a habit of inviting you over randomly when he was free. You were just happy that he remembered you at all.

Currently though, you were both relaxing on the couch and watching some Slam or Get Culled episodes that he was in. Right now, a season finale was playing. He was the final challenge for that season’s top 2. They had to rap battle him and whoever fared better was the winner.  You glanced over at him. He was in his usual facepaint, but was casually wearing a neon yellow ripped tank top and matching pajama pants with some designer troll logo and ‘JUICY’ all over them. How he managed to look so hot in that would forever elude you. You snapped out of it when he started speaking again.

“u kno, i thought ricard was the better 1 outta those 2.” You pretended to glare at him.

“SPOILERS!” You jokingly huffed, lightly shoving his arm. It didn’t move, as you’d expect.

“LOL! XoD sorry fam, seen dis crap 1000 times alreddy.” Wait, then why did he let you pick this episode? Or even agree to watch this with you? If this was boring you could do something else. And as if he could read your mind, he held up a hand.

“dun worry bout dis. is chill or w/e. butt srsly, u kno who gunna win.”

“Still! I wanna watch it!” You giggled. You both watched on in silence as Marvus was brought on to surprise the contestants.

“How were they behind the scenes?” You asked as you watched the confessionals for both of the contestants.

“ricards moirail b a clown, so me n him knew each other alreddy. he wuz p chill i guess lol.”

“What about Krayaa?”

“turns out she wuz a fangirl. foamin at the mouth n erythng.”

“Really?!” You turned to him to try and see if he was lying. He looked almost bored about it all. Like you were both talking about the weather or something. You wished you could be so relaxed about meeting a rabid fangirl and somehow living to tell the tale. Seadwellers were supposed to be stronger and more durable than landdwellers. At least, that was according Polypa anyway. Huh, you had to remember to check on her later after you got home too.

“ye. she wanted 2 pail after the shoot.” Your jaw dropped. Krayaa was a seadweller! Did he have to listen to her? She could have killed him for not listening!

“Nahhh, no worries,, the contract she signed for the ep woulda had her disqualified and mah bodyguards woulda whooped her b4 she had a chance. ;op” He chuckled. “If she managed 2 get thru them, I aint no wimp.” He added, flexing his arms a little to prove his point. You almost couldn’t stop staring. He had to know what he was doing to you…right? Granted, this was a crush you had no intention of pursuing. If you were speaking honestly, Marvus was a guy who probably didn’t want commitment due to his lifestyle. Even then, he had people throwing themselves at him constantly. People his own species. People who were a lot better fitting with his general aesthetic and not some poor wandering alien that he would DM when he was high when they both should have been sleeping. Your own concepts of relationships and types of love were different. But you could dream, right? You were content with just having him as your designated hot friend anyway. …That did mean you were allowed to drool over him in your mind. As long as it doesn’t get creepy to him. Yeah. You were fine.

“u gud (Y/N)? u tryna lure snacks into ur mouth or smth?” You snapped out of your stupor.

“Ew! Gross! I don’t eat bugs like you weirdos!”

“it aint gross. literally free snacks u can catch. :o)” He laughed.

“Where I’m from they’re gross!” Granted, there were places that did eat crickets and the like on Earth, but you would never tell him that.

“dun knock it till ya try it.” He got up and left the room, returning after a moment with a small box.

“…What is that.” You had a sinking feeling you knew what it was.

“chirp grubs.” He opened it and there they were. Disgusting caramelized crickets.

“I can’t.” You shook your head.

“more 4 me lol.” You looked away as he ate a few of the crickets. You looked back at him when his palmhusk rang. It sounded like a clown horn version of one of his songs. Fitting, honestly.

He glanced at it and rolled his eyes before silencing the phone.

“Who was that?”

“thottie.”

“Oh…” He looked bored again. Not good. What could you talk to him about to keep him interested?

“Uh…You ever get tired of the fans trying to aggressively pail you?” Ok, that wasn’t the best choice for conversation. Your bad.

“i meannn….in the beginning yeah. now its kinda the norm 4 me ufeelme?”

“Yeah, I guess. Does it ever make you feel like you can’t have a relation-er, quadrant?” You assumed it would, but that would also come with fame in general, wouldn’t it? You weren’t sure. Then again, if he didn’t want-

“kinda. i think its kinda funny how i can attract psychos, fans and thots, but not my crushes.” You sat up straight. Marvus had a crush?

“Wait. You…uh…are pale or um….red? for somebody?” You didn’t have the best grasp on quadrant terms.

“lol sumtimes i forget your an alien.” He leaned back onto the couch.

“butt yeah, i have a few crushes at the mo.” He smiled, staring at the ceiling.  Few. He has more than one crush right now. That soft smile said it all. He had it bad.

“…Can you tell me who they are?” He looked over at you and looked sheepish.

“i…dun think is a gud idea.”

“Please? I have to know who the great Marvus Xoloto has a crush on.”

“u kno 1. itll be awk af :o(“ Now you had to know. Now you were thinking about whether or not Marvus had a type. What if they were all mega hot models? Wait! Did he have a crush on Chahut? They would totally have to know each other. Who else did you both know??? He heard of Cirava, but you didn’t think they talked. Who???

“…kk fine. only if u slam a faygo tho.” You gave him a look.

“Isn’t Faygo…not for non-clowns?”

“is just us. whos gunna kno?”

“You promise nobody’s gonna know?”

“on my life. u slam a faygo, n ill tell u who my flush be.” You thought it over. You remembered tasting the stuff at clown church when you went you went with Chahut that one time. Just a sip left you a bit tipsy. A whole bottle may have rendered you unable to be coherent enough to even process who his flush crush was. Would it be worth it? You felt a choice coming on. Either way you had to drink a certain amount in order to maybe try and learn this random troll’s identity. The question was, do you try and counter his offer or just slam the entire bottle and hope for the best?

…

It would be better to respect your own limits. A bunch of your friends had lectured you a few times over putting yourself out just to potentially make a friend. This would piss them off and would probably not end in your favor even if you did decide to just go with it anyway.

“How much faygo do I have to drink?”

“hm…” He got up, went to the kitchen and got a small can of Grape Faygo, a normal bottle for one and a whole 2 liter bottle. “imma b nice. u get a choice. u gotta try 2 finish the can. u get 1 q with the name if u finish the can. Smol bottle gets u 2 qs and the name n the 2L gets u as many qs as u liek. fair enough 2 u?”

…Now you wanted to chug the 2 liter. You haven’t even seen anyone try to down that other than the Grand High Blood once when you took Karako to clown church for the first time. But that guy was a clown and he is HUGE. You, not so much. But, you chose to respect yourself for once. You’d see how you felt after the small can and go from there. You picked it up, opened the can and took a deep breathe. Powers that be, let this not wreck you and let this answer be worth it. If he cops out with his answers, you would try to hurt him. You started chugging. You did your best to try and treat it like a shot like Cirava taught you so you wouldn’t taste the overly sweet flavor too much. After a moment of light agony and attempting to not drown in the soda, you reached the end of the can. You slammed it onto the coffee table and started panting. Ok, you weren’t feeling woozy like before. Maybe those tiny sips when you went to clown church helped your body get used to it.

“u gunna try the otha bottles?” You managed to shake your head. You weren’t gonna do that again. Your head started hurting. You looked over at him. Were his eyes always so vibrantly purple? Woah, now they’re flashing purple. What the heck? Was this Faygo high? You now understood why all the other clowns were so goofy after drinking a cup of this stuff. Crap, now your head was starting to hurt.

“Wh-Who….who is it..?” You started feeling like you were gonna pass out. You laid down on the couch. You needed to close your eyes. That was way too much for you. You felt Marvus pick you up into his arms.

“ye…after u wake up bb.” Wake up? Wait, did he just call you a pet name?! You were about to question him when he tilted his head.

“dangg,, u managed 2 stay awake with chuckles and faygo? ur stronger than i thought. Soz bout this babes.” His eyes became blindingly vibrant again and you blacked out.

#marvus #marvus xoloto #yandere!marvus #yandere!marvus x reader #olive fics #Let me know your thoughts!

[today-only-happens-once]

With Great Power - Chapter 7

Catch up or read on AO3 here!

Fic Summary:  Thomas Sanders is just a regular social media personality. But when he gets bit by a spider during filming one of his YouTube videos, his whole life is about to turn upside down—whether he (or the aspects of his personality) want it to or not. Platonic LAMP/CALM + Character!Thomas. Spider-Man AU.

Chapter Word Count: 3646

Chapter warnings: cursing, threats, alcohol consumption (casual and not heavy), robbery mention, please let me know if I missed anything. 

A/N: Longer chapter with a hecking lot jammed into it, but I hope it’s an okay read. Was excited about this chapter, so I hope you enjoy the ride! Finished the edits around midnight last night and decided to wait until morning to post. Edited by yours truly. All mistakes are mine. Please let me know what ya think! 

Tags: @captain-loki-xavier, @human-dictionary, @the-peculiar-bi-tch, @mining-pup, @band-be-boss-blog, @asexual-trashbag, @samathekittycat, @why-should-i-tell-youu2, @theobsessor1, @always3charcoaltea, @changeling-ash, @logical-princey, @princelogical, @crimsonshadow323, @flickering-raven, @smokeyrutilequartz, @dontbugmeimantisocial, @liz-a-bell, @black-king-white-knight, @soijusthavetoask, @analogical-mess, @marvelfangeek09, @dolphidragon, @thelowlysatsuma, @approximately12lbs-of-ducks, @vigilantvirgil

The internet personality sits on the couch in the living room of his apartment with his laptop balanced carefully on his thighs. It’s the middle of the afternoon the following day. He’d slept until almost noon, then scrolled through twitter and the news feed that was buzzing with the blurry, confusing security footage from the bank last night.

The spider logo had been visible from the way Thomas had wrapped the sweatshirt around his face, and that’s really all the public seemed to need to stir up excitement again. SPIDER-MAN MAKES A RETURN? had been the basis for nearly every headline Thomas had seen on the subject. News anchors puzzled over the bizarre footage of someone crawling on the ceiling. He’d watched a few interviews with some of the people that had gotten out safely—none of them claimed to know anything about who this “Spider-Man” might be.

Some threads on Twitter called him a “cryptid”. Others called him a “freak”. Law enforcement officials posted about how he should have left the job to professionals rather than go “vigilante”. Most called him a “hero”.

It left a weird, but not necessarily unpleasant, feeling in his stomach.

A few reports talked about the man Thomas had fought: Al Trevors, according to several news articles. He’d been a bus driver, apparently, with a wife and twin boys who were four years old. His wife is a lawyer, who had apparently advised him to not speak to the press. There had been no official statement from Trevors.

Eventually, Thomas stopped looking into the reaction to last night and instead turned his attention to the black cardstock rectangle he’d picked up. It sits beside him on the couch. On Thomas’s laptop, the cursor blinks lazily in the Google search bar.

“Thomas, are you sure this is a good idea?”

Virgil is standing in his usual space at the bottom of the stairs, his gaze narrowed at the host.

Thomas glances up at him, then back at the card. “No,” he says honestly.

Logan appears beside the staircase before Virgil can so much as open his mouth. He smooths his tie. “Virgil, you know as well as I do that Thomas buying into willful ignorance is likely only to be detrimental.”

Virgil shoots Logan a look. “Yeah, I know, Pocket Protector. I just…” he waves a hand at Thomas’s laptop. “I have a bad feeling about it. That’s all.”

Logan inclines his head. “Understandable, given the limited information we have available to us and your inclination to protect us.”

Thomas watches as Virgil glances quickly at the Logical Side. “Right…”

“However,” Logan continues, a little bit softer, “we have a responsibility. Knowing is always better than not knowing. And you know as well as I do, Virgil, that you would feel an equal level of distress—if not a more prolonged one as well—staying kept in the dark. Especially when there is a potential threat involved.”

Virgil rolls his eyes, but Thomas can see the hesitation of thought in the Anxious Side. He’s listening to Logan. “Knwoledge is our greatest weapon, huh?” he says dryly.

Logan nods once, his certainty undeterred by Virgil’s snark. “And our greatest defense.”

Virgil pauses. Then he groans, scrubbing a sweatshirt-covered hand across his eyes. “Fine, Thomas. Look it up.”

Thomas takes a breath as Logan crosses over towards the couch and sits beside him. Virgil sits on the other side. Thomas types “ekko” into the search bar and presses enter.

The first thing that pops up is a link to the YouTube video that Joan had been talking about. It’s titled “The First Warning”. The internet personality hovers his cursor over the link. The thumbnail is a blank, black screen.

Virgil doesn’t say anything, but Thomas doesn’t miss him flipping his hood up over his hair. It’s accompanying a tightening in Thomas’s stomach that makes him scroll further down the page instead of clicking on the link. He senses more than sees Logan glance disapprovingly at him, but the Logical Side doesn’t say anything.

The links below the video are a smattering of people talking about it: Twitter threads, pop culture websites that wrote articles about it, a talk show segment where they chat about it. Thomas wonders if maybe reading about it second hand would be enough.

“Thomas,” Logan says reproachfully. “While it would be better than nothing, a video is not capable of hurting you.”

“Beg to differ,” Virgil snaps.

“You’re stalling,” Logan replies flatly. “You cannot delay this forever.”

“Uh, he absolutely can.”

“Granted. But he shouldn’t.”

Thomas scrolls up quickly to the top of the page and clicks on the link before he can lose his nerve. Virgil growls and covers his face with his hands, peeking at the computer screen between his fingers. Thomas’s hands curl into loose fists against his legs. His foot taps quickly against the carpet.

The screen starts with static and a high-pitched whine. Flashes of news footage from riots, bombings, warzones. Static glitches.

It cuts out.

Thomas can just barely make out a silhouetted figure in the dark screen before a feminine voice starts speaking. “Pity, isn’t it?”

More footage, flashing so quickly that Thomas can’t decipher it all except that it’s all violent. It’s all bloody.

“It’s been long enough. It’s time for a new age to rise.”

The dark screen returns, but the figure steps forward into the minimal light. They’re in a body suit of some kind. Entirely white. It’s a sudden contrast to the dark background. The figure leans in closer to the camera.

“Some of you will see me as your hero. Others will fear me. If you’re the latter… I’m coming for you.”

It sounds like more than an empty threat. It sounds like a promise.

The video cuts out.

Thomas takes a breath and rakes a hand back through his hair. The video is playing back through his mind, trying to piece together the footage as if it might help make more sense. The words play back through Thomas’s mind. It’s time of a new age to rise. A new age of what? What did it mean that she’d be “coming for” the people who feared her?

“Virgil, are you all right?” Logan asks and Thomas almost jumps. He’d forgotten two of his Sides were sitting there beside him.

“Peachy,” Virgil growls back with the double vocalization.

“Thomas,” Logan says, “Please take a deep breath.”

The host closes his laptop and sets it on the coffee table in front of him as he sucks in some air and releases it slowly. He closes his eyes. Breathe with me, Virge, he wills. He takes in another breath and hears Virgil do the same.

Thomas opens his eyes and though Virgil still has his hood pulled up over his hair, the Anxious Side manages a faint twitch of his lips. A reassurance. Thomas nods once to him.

“What particularly was so alarming about that video?” Logan asks after a moment. “Though clearly intended to be threatening, it seems you have seen videos and movies that would warrant a stronger sense of fear than something such as that.”

Thomas swallows and clears his throat. “Virge?” He glances at Virgil on the other side of him.

“I don’t know.” The Anxious Side huffs a little, tugging on the strings of his hoodie. “Something about it just seemed… more real than a horror movie. Like she meant what she was saying, I guess.”

Logan quirks an eyebrow. “Hm. I see.” He eyes Thomas’s closed laptop before speaking again. “Under usual circumstances, I would remark how it seemed a bit over the top in terms of its dramatics. The effects and spliced footage are clearly meant to be a fear tactic with seeming little meaningful substance upon which to base that fear.”

“Aren’t you kind of commenting on that now—”

“However,” Logan continues, interrupting Thomas, “it’s connection to recent events makes me less inclined to dismiss it so easily. A fear tactic? Absolutely. But one so easily dismissed? Perhaps not.”

Thomas rubs the back of his neck, glancing between Logan and Virgil. “So what now?”

There wasn’t anything in the video that suggested a location—either for where Ekko is, or where she’d be next. Thomas didn’t really have another plan of action, and it makes his fingers twitch with a surprising restlessness. It doesn’t help that Ekko’s line about being seen as a hero keeps replaying in his mind in a way that tightens his chest a little with discomfort.

“Well,” Logan says as he adjusts the frame of his glasses, “there are several questions left unanswered, it seems. The first being what connection, if any, does Ekko have to the attempted robbery last night? The video suggests some kind of wide-scale plan, perhaps even global given the use of news footage from around the world. So what business would someone like Ekko have in Gainesville, Florida?”

That did seem unusual, Thomas has to admit. He picks up the cardstock rectangle beside his leg on the couch, rubbing his thumb over the neat white print. E K K O.

“Speaking of wide-scale plan,” Virgil adds, sounding a bit more calm but no less worried than a moment ago, “the next question is… assuming that video isn’t just some fear-inducing media stunt, what is Ekko planning?”

Thomas sighs and scrubs a hand down his face. “Maybe that’s all it really is,” he says. “Maybe she’s just trying to get attention.” He doesn’t quite believe himself, and he sees Logan and Virgil exchange a silent glance. Neither of them says anything, but the quiet that lingers in the apartment is quickly interrupted by Thomas’s ringtone.

It’s Valerie.

“Hey, Valerie,” Thomas says, hoping his voice sounds brighter than he thinks it does. In his peripheral, Thomas sees both Logan and Virgil sink out.

“Hey, Thomas!” The familiar sound of his friend’s voice helps alleviate some of the tension in his shoulders. “I was talking to Joan, Lee, and Terrence and we were thinking of having a game night since everybody’s gonna be in town. Do you wanna join?”

Thomas smiles with a sudden relief. “Sounds awesome.”

…

“Did you just throw a blue shell, Talyn?! Shit. No, no, no—”

Thomas laughs as he watches his friends play Mario Kart. Joan’s corner of the screen fills with a bright blue light. A cart slams into them as it passes, sending Joan’s cart careening off the edge of the map. Thomas laughs even harder as Terrence’s square announces his victory. Joan curses again, managing to squeak past the finish line in 6th place.

“Hey, thanks, Talyn,” Terrence comments with an amused, smug smile. Talyn gives him a small salute, snorting with laughter a moment later at the look Joan throws their way.

Thomas smiles and leans back into the couch, picking up his glass of wine and taking a small sip. Turns out, a lot of Thomas’s friends had been free tonight. Lee and Mary Lee came, as did Valerie, Joan, Talyn, Camden, Terrence, and Kenny. It felt like it had been forever since he’d last hung out with his friends without it being with the intention of working on a video. Amicable chatter and friendly argument about the best character to main on Mario Kart fills the room with a warmth and comfort that is interrupted briefly by the arrival of pizza.

Mary Lee announces a food break, causing everyone who was getting ready for another round to set their controllers down as they all break into the various kinds of pizza. It was a reprieve that the internet personality had welcomed with open arms. In fact, Thomas has almost forgotten about the events of the past 24 hours when Kenny speaks up.

“So did you guys hear about that bank last night?”

Thomas shovels a bite of pizza into his mouth to avoid having to answer. Don’t say anything, Thomas, Virgil growls in his mind. Valerie points at Kenny. “Yes! Did you see the security footage?”’

“It’s a little hard to believe it wasn’t doctored somehow,” Lee chimes in as he reaches for another piece. “They swear it isn’t, though. And some of the eyewitness accounts verified that the guy was freaking climbing on the ceiling.”

“I saw this thread on Reddit,” Camden chimes in casually, reaching for a napkin, “arguing about whether or not he should count as a ‘hero’.”

Thomas glances at him. “What’d they decide?”

Camden’s mouth quirks. “It’s Reddit. You really think they arrived at any organized consensus?”

“I think it’s a little weird that he keeps covering his face,” Mary Lee cuts in, then grimaces. “If they are a he. It’s the pronoun that little kid and the hostages were using, but I probably shouldn’t assume that.” She opens a can of Coke and takes a long swallow.

“I don’t totally get why they’re hiding their identity,” Valerie adds. “I mean, both times we’ve seen them, they’ve had half their face covered. Unless they’re doing something wrong—which I don’t think they are—why hide?”

Thomas opens his mouth, but Talyn jumps in before he has a chance to reply. Part of him is grateful.

“I mean, not everybody thinks they’re doing the right thing.” Talyn sets their slice down on the paper plate in their lap. “Besides, if they can climb on the ceiling like that, there’s totally people that would try to capture them and run experiments or some shit.”

Thomas swallows. He reaches for another slice of pizza to avoid looking at any of them, even though the sudden churning in his stomach keeps him from actually taking a bite out of it.

“Talyn’s right,” Kenny says. “Plus, if they’re trying to stop criminals, maybe they’re trying to protect their family too. So bad guys can’t use their loves ones against them.”

“Bad guys?” Lee asks, more curious that argumentative. “So you think they’re a hero?”

Kenny lifts a shoulder. “Yeah, I think so. You guys don’t?”

Thomas doesn’t hear their answers, his thoughts racing ahead of him. Kenny had been right, of course. So had Talyn. Thomas hiding his face had been a mixture of both reasons, but sitting here in a room full of his friends reminds him all over again just how much had changed. How much risk is involved in what he did last night. He hadn’t just been risking his safety, he’d been risking all of theirs, too. After all, the man had reached for the sweatshirt he’d tied haphazardly around his face, and if Thomas had been just a little bit slower on his reflex…

His family would be at risk. Everybody in this room would be at risk. Everybody Thomas ever cared about.

And if he was really going to try to figure out what the whole Ekko business was about… well, that really only put them in more danger.

“Thomas? Joan?” Valerie asks, yanking Thomas abruptly from his thoughts. “What do you think?”

Thomas takes another sip of wine and shrugs, despite his racing heartbeat. He quirks an eyebrow at Joan, willing them to answer first.

Joan adjusts the beanie on their head. “I think it’s probably too early to tell. I mean, so far it seems like he’s tried to help people in need at risk to himself. Most people would probably classify that as a hero, but it depends on what you mean by the word in the first place.”

“Classic Ravenclaw answer,” Lee chimes in lightly, causing everyone to smile.

Joan laughs a little, then grabs the nearest controller. “All right,” they say. “So who am I gonna beat at Rainbow Road?”

“Oh, you’re on, Joan,” Camden announces, grabbing his back from the floor. “Let’s go.”

“Hold on, I’m still eating pizza!”

“Eat fast, Terrence. Rainbow Road waits for nobody.”

Thomas smiles and shakes his head, gathering up the discarded paper plates and napkins. He’s silently grateful none of them remembered that Thomas never answered the question.

…

It’s nearly two in the morning when all four of his main Sides show up at the same time, startling Thomas out of his almost-asleep state. The host groans.

“Really, guys?” he grumbles, but reaches over to the nightstand and flips on the lamp light.

“Apologies, Thomas,” Logan says from his position at the foot of Thomas’s bed. “I thought it would be best to let you rest and come to you with this idea in the morning, but Roman was rather insistent.”

Thomas rubs at his eyes and sits up. “What idea?”

“Roman and I were discussing potential strategies for dealing with some of Virgil’s concerns, and the… four of us—” Thomas frowns at the odd hesitation—“came up with a solution.”

“Oh,” Thomas says, his brow pulling together. “Um… cool. What’s the idea?”

Roman is practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “A suit!”

Thomas’s confusion only deepens. “A suit?”

Virgil rolls his eyes, but it’s Logan that speaks up. “Of a sort. Not the type of suit you’re thinking, Thomas, but rather a suit designed with your specific superhuman abilities in mind that will maximize your potential while maintaining a certain level of identity protection.”

Thomas blinks a few times, then looks quizzically at Virgil. “Why?”

Virgil ducks his head a little and rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I guess…. Your friends talking earlier got me—us—thinking about how close you’d been last night for your identity getting found out. Logan agreed that we needed something better than a sweatshirt.”

“So I then consulted with Roman,” Logan chimes in, “to see what might work best.”

Roman smiles. “And we came up with a little design idea.” Roman flicks his hand towards Thomas, who gets a sudden, clear picture in his head. A full body suit. Red and blue fabric, dark-purple-nearly-black stitching. A spider silhouette stretching along his torso.

“The spider was my idea,” Patton chimes in.

Thomas looks at Patton, disbelieving. “You wanted to add a spider? I mean, don’t get me wrong, Patton. I love it. But… I would’ve thought you’d be the last person to want a spider added onto the suit.”

Patton’s mouth tugs into a small, fond smile. “Spiders do freak me out, kiddo. But… I thought it’d be a nice tribute to the first time you helped someone with your new abilities. A reminder of the good you can do.” Mikey babbling about the Ninja Turtles flickers through Thomas’s mind, doubtlessly Patton’s doing. It makes the host’s chest swell.

“It’s perfect,” Thomas says honestly.

“After consulting with Virgil,” Logan adds, “I believe I have a fabric in mind that should be able to be a useful level of durable without being too restrictive in weight or flexibility.”

Thomas’s mind is reeling with the onslaught of ideas. “Wow. You guys all worked together on this?”

Roman is rotating the image around in his mind, giving Thomas a sharpening view of each angle on the suit. He can feel Roman’s excitement thrumming with a sudden burst of creative energy. Virgil seems quieter than he’d been previously, and when Thomas looks at him, he can see the calmer look in his eyes. Patton still has that small, happy smile.

And Logan… well, Logan has something bright and electric simmering just beneath his stoic exterior. He looks invigorated, and Thomas gets the feeling there’s something else that Logan hasn’t told him about yet.

“Indeed,” Roman says in reply to Thomas’s question. “The general aesthetic was my doing, but we each had a hand in its overall design.”

Thomas sees Virgil glance over to Logan. “There’s… one more thing about the suit,” he prompts gently.

Logan flicks his hand towards Thomas and the image in his mind zooms to focus in on the wrist of the suit, breaking it open almost like a blueprint. The host closes his eyes to focus on the schematic that Logan has sketched out in his brain. Logan’s voice floats through his thoughts, providing an explanation.

“I was considering methods for which to solve Virgil’s proposed predicament from last night regarding if you had been seen prior to reaching an acceptable proximity to Al Trevors. I eventually arrived at this concept.”

“I call them Web Shooters,” Patton chimes in brightly. “Y’know, like a spider web?”

“Indeed,” Logan says. “Although spider webs are generally lightweight and easy to dismantle, so such a term may be a bit misleading. Regardless of what you call them, I think we could construct a device that would allow you to essentially project a strong adhesive substance from your wrist or hand when activated. It could be used as a rope to retrieve things, or perhaps even to use to your advantage in terms of travel.”

Roman’s voice jumps in. “You could be like freaking Tarzan.”

Logan’s voice hums, unamused. “The point is, I see several uses for this kind of device, and I think it’s worth developing.” Thomas’s mind is suddenly overtaken with a string of chemical equations running through his mind. “I’ve already begun developing a formula, although I could use a refresher given how long it has been since your experience as a chemical engineer.”

“Oh!” Patton’s voice again. Thomas opens his eyes, his bedroom and Sides coming back into focus even as Logan continues to scroll the chemical equations through his mind. “Why don’t you see if Dr. Washington could help? Remember her, Thomas?”

Thomas does. She’d been one of Thomas’s favorite professors. “It’s been a while, but I can email her.”

Patton’s grinning as Thomas reaches for his computer. “Perfect! We’ll leave ya to it, kiddo.”

When Thomas looks up again from his computer screen, all of them have sunk out. They’re excited energy radiates through his mind. He has a feeling he won’t be getting back to sleep any time soon.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #platonic lamp/calm #sanders sides au #sanders sides au fanfiction #spider-man au #with great power #wgp fic #tw cursing #tw alcohol #tw violence mention #pretty excited about this chapter #so i hope you all enjoyed it!

[fordarkisthesuede]

The Tolls of Justice - Chapter 5

It's morning brunchtime in Atlanta, and I'm servin' up a big ol’ stack of Johnny cakes with a juice reduction on the side. B)

IMPORTANT SPOILER TAGS: past mention of abuse, mental illness, gun violence, bonding over trauma

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[Chapter 5:  The Wheel Still Turns on the Upturned Chariot]

John was quite used to keeping an eye and an ear out for everything. Arkham had its share of nasty surprises in all its forms, and it paid to be well-prepared for anyone rounding the corner or prying their eyes into what they shouldn’t see.

It took him one week to learn St. Dymphna’s camera patterns. Two to learn the normal guard rotation. One-and-a-half to learn the layout.

He was not used to the impromptu schedules they seemed to make for him, however. It was like his doctor saw some psychologist’s note about how repeated structured tasks was supposed to help affirm that the patient’s reality was indeed everyone else’s reality, scratched it out with pen, tore it out of the book, and tossed it out of the window straight into the industrial-size shredder while they knocked back a beer.

Yesterday was supposed to be the day. Instead he was suddenly forced to see - more like wait around for - his Parole Officer and assigned social worker. Apparently he could not get away with saying he was adjusting fine - both of them grilled him so much after the hour of waiting a piece that he felt like he’d been seared to a fine medium-rare.

As much as it infuriated him and made him want to just grab them both by the collars to make it very clear he was ‘okay’, he’d barely hung on. He’d had to clench his toes as much as possible and try to channel Bruce’s enviable ability to keep calm under pressure as he actively stopped himself from clenching his teeth or saying something he’d regret. He knew - knew - a lifetime in Arkham and a small obituary list on his record would always make people question his intentions and sanity, but it didn’t make them any less annoying, and it didn’t do that...other part of him any favors.

It might have been tamer now, but it was still there, and with every new tightly-wound ball of aggravation it was fed he could feel it start to pace. It seemed to take more and more calm-time to get it to stop lately… Heck, he could feel it now, still but almost pressed against the inside of its cage like it was waiting for something to come close enough.

But he would have to deal with it later. Today was the day. He’d had to adjust his schedule, had to account for a few extra things, but here, in the early evening before the sun completely set and Officer Kane was busy doing his ‘personal call’ to the on-duty nurse downstairs, John could make his move.

He watched the camera in the hall as he counted by tapping his fingers against his thigh. It would turn the other way - indicated by the slight shift in the lens’ focus if he could see it - in twenty seconds. He was wedged tight in the corner underneath it, having slid there and made a show of opening and closing the door so it looked like someone had gone inside.

The felt the familiar anxious thrill in his legs and sides of his head, just like when he was sneaking around Arkham. It was brighter in St. Dymphna, and had less places to hide, but at least if he got caught John wouldn’t be thrown in the hole.

Of course, they could throw him back. They could lock him up and refuse to house him again later. They could-

John shook his head. He didn’t have time to be paranoid.  

This was the time for action! For suspense! For catchy secret agent music!

He’d tapped to twenty, and the Secret Agent Man theme started to cycle in his head; he side-stepped carefully against the wall, just to make sure the camera couldn’t see him for the few steps it took to be out of the watchful eye’s range.

He walked on the sides of his feet rather than his heels, reducing the inevitable noise on the not-that-clean tile floor, and made for his target - the door halfway down the hall with the plate that read Officer Hank Kane, Parole.

John didn’t have long. Thankfully his office didn’t need any RFID card or fingerprint or anything like the more dangerous rooms in the place. Just a plain, old-fashioned lock.

And John had an old-fashioned method for unlocking.

Secret - aaagent maan, Secret - aaagent maan! He hummed to himself, sliding the lost-and-found credit card he’d been carrying around for a while into the gap between the door and the frame, and carefully angling it to wedge in-between the lock mechanism and begin to pry, bending the card out of shape. They’ve given you a number, he continued, wiggling the card’s edge into what should be the right angle and pushing, And taken away your naaame!

He pushed hard, and he twisted the knob at the same time as his finished the chorus - click.

John ducked inside the dim office and almost slammed the door shut just in time. The camera switched positions every thirty seconds - two more and he’d have to walk away like he wasn’t trying to break into the place and wait some more.

The place was just like it was yesterday, and couple have almost doubled as the Arkham Warden’s private office:  a couple of slightly-peeling filing cabinets that held useless documents John didn’t need; a bookcase with a couple of ‘law’ books and far too much football paraphernalia for the Gotham Rogues alongside several pictures of the guy’s wife and kids; a pair of wooden chairs that John swore were deliberately designed to be uncomfortable; and a boring desk with the same thin-client PC and sleek monitor as everyone else had, and yet two more family pictures, one of which had a King Charles spaniel John wanted to kidnap on principle of it being way too cute.

The tune kept playing in the background of his thoughts as he took a seat in the much-more-comfortable office chair. He made sure not to touch the arms.

Password-locked. Just as he’d thought.

John had watched very carefully as Hank typed away yesterday. It was something clearly easy for the guy to remember, because unlike some of the doctors and other staff, he didn’t dawdle over the keys or tap them lightly as they waited for their hippocampus’ reflex to kick in. He’d done the same motions several times during his last visit, which likely meant he used the same password for everything. (Dr. Song seemed to use various complex ones, if her odd typing methods were anything to go by.)

Which was good news for John, because he wasn’t sure what the password was.

He had some good guesses. It was something easy to remember, so something somewhat personal with a series of numbers at the end…so an anniversary of something was pretty likely.

John had remembered the areas of the keyboard Hank had used:   somewhere between one and four and eight and the dash sign on the top row; he’d had to use one finger to hold down the shift key for letter on the upper left, clearly not excelling at touch-typing; he was sure he hadn’t used the space or bottom row of letters, too. He had three tries to get it right before the account would get locked.

He took a moment to think.

Two distinct things in the guy’s otherwise very boring life was his family and football.

John knew the tricks to get into people’s protected FriendBook pages; he could try the anniversary of his marriage or birth of his kids, saved in a note on his phone.

Or he could look up the year the Gotham Rogues won last; it was before his time, he knew, because people wouldn’t stop hoping they’d go all the way every damn year.

Orrrr…

John flipped the keyboard over halfway with his palms. No sticky note there, unfortunately. He supposed he could poke around the desk a little more on the off-chance the guy had left it lying around carelessly like Bruce did with cash, but he was on limited time. He could risk looking and get his fingerprints all over the place, but why bother when he could just try to look it up?

Hm. Family, football, family, football…

John eyed the desk. The picture of the dog might as well have been taken by a professional photographer – it was all alone, as happy as could be, beaming up at the camera in a showy grassy yard with the perfect angle. The family portrait was a typical family photo with all the taste of Wonder Bread.

It was probably the dog, plus either the year it was adopted or the current one.

John mapped it out mentally on the keyboard. Woofles2019 seemed to fit pretty well with the pattern he remembered. It was worth a shot.

He put it in, waiting for the little wheel to finish spinning and give the ‘incorrect password’ message.

There was a soft da-ding, and John was looking right at the same outline of St. Dymphna holding the white lily to her chest that functioned as the clinic’s logo.

“Sheesh, why not just use password while you’re at it?” He snorted to himself.

John didn’t have too much time. He continued humming his little theme to himself to help count off.

He recognized the same enormous register of criminals that Bruce had access to back at the Batcave just sitting on the desktop. John was pretty sure Ian ‘Nito’ had done time for something, likely a drug habit if he’d left the facility after only a week.

At least it was a web-based registry rather than a whole program, so John could easily just delete the history there afterwards as long as he had the time. Well, if it would load fast enough…

John tapped his fingers on the mouse button gently, still keeping the rhythm as the page took it’s time to load. He wondered if Bruce ever had to deal with dumb inconveniences like this before he’d got the super-computer installed. There seemed be a few dozen guys (and non-guys, possibly) named Ian. A quick sort by crime, and the more timely Ian arrested that jumped out to John was Ian Coggs.

There was no ‘Ian Nito’ on file, but ‘Ian Coggs’ made John think of the word in-cog-nito.

It made John chuckle to himself. It was definitely the sort of thing John would do, if he were giving an alias with his own name. Well, if he could make a decent play on ‘John’ anyway. And he had decent makeup to cover his white-and-green tones.

The arrest photo taken several months ago was definitely the ‘Mr. Nito’ that John had seen, only the boring t-shirt Ian was wearing was covering up the tattoos more.

Ian Coggs, arrested for driving under the influence and possession of heroin. Notes included he had traces in his car indicating he might have had the intent to sell, but the charge didn’t stick, as there was no mass quantities in Ian’s car or apartment. He seemed to have served a short sentence and was ordered to check into a clinic.

Hmm… John took a picture of the screen with his phone, making sure to capture the last known address as clearly as possible.

John thought for a second – he could look up Ian’s patient file, too, now that he knew Ian’s full name. It was probably somewhere in some kind of share-drive.

The screen flickered, and a pop up informed him that the operating system was not licensed and please license it, would you? John rolled his eyes – a common issue with those sorts of old OS sitting on the network’s virtual machines. It was wonder they didn’t upgrade yet. The thing was practically a dinosaur.

He ignored it and did a quick search in the X-drive-marks-the-spot had Ian Coggs’ old data just sitting in a folder with his name on it. No handy doctor notes, of course, but there was a discharge form.

John skimmed it, interrupting his little background-tune with an intrigued hum. “Looks like Ian was moving to Bludhaven…”

He’d have to look up the new address later…

John was running out of time. He very quickly wiped away the last few bits of internet history on Hank’s machine and went back towards the door, counting the last couple of beats on his thigh. Three, two…

On one, John again became the ghost of Arkham’s hallways, silent and swift, leaving his tampering unnoticed as he closed the door behind him as softly as can be. Another successful heist on his mental tally; Arkham three, John…

He found himself stopping.

I’m not at Arkham anymore, he thought to himself. He blinked, staring straight down the hall.

Right. Right, it just…looked like the repainted Arkham, sometimes. Sneaking around like this just reminded him of it. That was all.

He resumed walking, clenching his hands and releasing them. He wished he had something else to touch for a bit. Just to make sure.

He reached the stairwell. He needed to get to the library on the second floor. It was open until lights-out at eleven and it was the best place he could get some privacy and a decent phone signal.

It was a short walk to the small room that smelt of overly stale cigarettes and books, with a hint of wood-polish underneath.

St. Dymphna wasn’t new. Arkham wasn’t either, not by a longshot, but at least it had a sizable selection in comparison, even if the tall metal bookcases were all kinds of dangerous. St. Dymphna had short cases, all in soft wood so no one would hurt themselves, all in a room about the size of Bruce’s master-bed-and-bath, half of which was occupied by un-squeaky tables and hushed conversations.

He casually weaseled his way towards the little stacks, pretending he belonged there as much as anyone else, and had a peek at his phone.

Four full bars – the best signal he could get.

Too bad his battery was at twelve percent.

John frowned down at the device, half wanting to break it on principle of it not behaving. He’d charged it just yesterday!

“Old fashioned way it is,” he muttered to himself.

Thankfully the reference section was always deserted. John knelt down and skimmed over the few little books of Gotham history – including one on crime statistics that probably should not be accessible to patients – and snatched the guide-to-the-state map book, feeling the weight and laminated paper cover in his hands.

John thumbed through the soft pages by flicking them like a deck of cards, and stopped right at Gotham.

He’d seen this same map before, years ago, when he was a very bored Arkham newbie who still didn’t know what Gotham was. It was a shiny thing, at the time, a beacon of freedom and mystery, a break from the madness and rust and rot of Arkham. It didn’t take long into cycling through the numerous news segments and headlines for John to realize it was a city with a criminal underbelly so obese that it was a wonder anyone could still be considered an honest citizen. It was fascinating, really, to go back as far as possible and learn just who and what had led to the then-current state of things. The power imbalances and shuffles of gangs, the creative ways people wanted to hurt each other, the things people did just to survive another day… He had hours of fun picking apart the reasoning and motives and predicting outcomes. It was a good thing to delve into when he was stuck without entertainment, which was often on his bad days.

John pulled out his phone and opened the picture he’d taken of Ian’s arrest entry:  his old place was at 511 N. Blade Street, Apt. 1005.

He traced his finger around, and North Blade Street was deep in what everyone referred to as “the Cauldron”, and naturally above South Blade Street. What highly appropriate name for roads; the Cauldron was a hotspot for the more basic criminal activities and lower gangs.

Kind of far to travel to get to the humble area of the Eastern Docks, but that was only if he still lived there. He probably did, if he was hanging around town, even if it was just temporarily. He wouldn’t put it past him to just muscle his way back in, either.

He flipped to the Bludhaven page. Ian supposedly moved to 900 Wanda Way.

Wanda Way was tucked into a tiny corner, off another road, but… There was no nine-hundred address. Wanda Way had addresses in the four-hundreds.

A four and a nine were easy to misinterpret if not written clearly, and the forms were filled out by hand and stamped by an authority figure before being scanned-and-typed in… The only question was, was it done on purpose?

Wanda Way sounded too much like “wander away”, and clearly the guy liked puns on his name, so John had the feeling he’d chosen whatever place was there just to throw everyone off.

The guy was clearly smarter than he looked…

John hummed. Now he just had to get someone to look at Ian’s old place and shake him down.

“Hey, clown,” someone said quietly, poking him in the back of the head.

John felt a surge of annoyance quick-boil his blood. Couldn’t they see he was busy? He wanted to throw the map book at the offender and start teaching them some manners.

But he grit his teeth and clenched the map a little too hard instead, blinking hard once to help push the urge away. It was still there, but he couldn’t let it out. “What?” He growled, turning around.

Mickey stood there, somewhat bewildered by…well, maybe he was actually seeing the roiling violent urge in John’s eyes. Mickey almost looked sheepish, suddenly, drawing the offending hand he’d poked John’s head with to tuck under his arms lying on the shelf. “Just tryin’ to get your attention,” he muttered, staring at him somewhat innocently with his chestnut brown eyes.

John had softened somewhat, seeing as it was only Mickey and not some new asshole trying to pick a fight. “You could always try saying my name, next time, Mick’.”

“I tried twice. You didn’t answer.”

“Third time’s the charm,” John shrugged with a little titter. “Sorry,” he added, not feeling it at all, “I just tend to get absorbed in things. What ‘cha need from little ol’ me, Mick’?”

“Just wanted to know what you were doing,” he mumbled, not looking at him.

What a terrible liar. He probably got caught with his hand in the cookie jar somewhere and wanted escape. “Miiick’, what did you dooo?” He teased, putting a hand on his hip like he was a disappointed parent.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Mm-hm. Let me guess – you said something a little too bold to someone and now they’re trying to find you.”

Mickey might as well have been sweating bullets as he turned his head to look around. “Maybe.”

John chuckled. “Who did you piss off? ‘Firecracker’ Fred? Abdul? Abdul looks like he could fight well… Ooh, was it Harper?”

“No, none o’ them.” Mickey turned back, glancing back at the front door, and suddenly ducked to the ground like he’d been shot. John heard him crawling on the floor around the case, and John could barely contain his curiosity, so he poked his head up above the shelf to see who had entered.

It was another one of the handful of women staying at the place, scanning the room with a hoity-toity sort of anger. Karen McCarthy - addicted to miscellaneous pills, wine, and pretending she was better than everyone else. John had all of two interactions with her, and disliked both of them.

“Don’t let her see me,” Mickey pleaded from the floor. John sank back down and tried to read Mickey’s face. Why on Earth was he scared of a woman less than half his weight class? Mickey grabbed onto his arm, begging like his life was on the line.

John knew that look. He’d seen it for years in Arkham - Mickey was scared out of his mind. “What did you do?” John whispered. Mickey was friendly with Devi, and seemed to keep his hands to himself. But that didn’t mean he was innocent.

“I just said that her art needed work,” he answered, his voice starting to waver. “She just…flipped out.” Mickey breathing awkwardly. “She just started yellin’, and…” His naturally tanned skin was paling more, shaken by the thought of it. “Don’t tell her I’m here. Please. ”

John didn’t have to. Hell, he could fake it and just let Karen look around all day long as Mickey found new, more entertaining places to hide.

But Mickey was clearly rattled. He hated loud noises and seemed to put up a tough-guy front with everyone. The fact that he was so scared of a middle-aged woman yelling at him that he ran away to hide suggested he might have a trauma surrounding such a thing.

If their situations were reversed, there wouldn’t be any promise of an eventual life with Bruce that would hold John back if Mickey let him be forced to confront his own traumatic experiences again.

Besides, saving him was the hero thing to do. And John could never be Bruce – not exactly – but somehow John was his hero, and who was he to let Bruce down?

“Go a few rows down and duck close to the stack,” John advised quietly. “I’ll take care of it.”

Mickey looked a little more confident as he gave a stiff nod and snuck away.

John put the map book back casually and stood, stretching his arms and craning his back like he’d been there for a while. Making himself as obvious as possible.

Sure as Batman stalked the night, John only had to turn like he was going to leave when he found Karen in his personal space, her beady eyes narrowed in determined dislike. “Where’s Mickey?” She asked, her French-tipped index finger pointing at his chin. “You know where he is?”

“Y’know, the first question really drove the point home, Karen. There’s no need to ask twice.”

Karen was trying to stand tall. Sort of hard, since she was almost two whole heads shorter than him. “Don’t get smart with me, John. Have you seen him or not?”

John gave a dramatic laugh, like he actually found the idea funny. (It helped that she was trying so hard to be fierce when John had faced the scariest people imaginable on a nearly daily basis.) It seemed to get her attention; her shrewd eyes were watching him carefully and she looked a little confused. “In here? You’re kidding, right?”

“Why would I be?” She asked haughtily, clearly thinking he was insulting her.

“The guy can barely read a street sign! He’s so macho-illiterate I doubt he knows what a library even is,” John lied, thinking back to one of the more feral inhabitants at Arkham. Karen didn’t have to know he was talking about a different guy. “He’s probably hiding out in the men’s room by the fitness joing. It’s closer to home and he’ll think you won’t have the nerve to go in there.”

Karen clicked her tongue and looked even fiercer. “Oh, I won’t have to go in to give him a piece of my mind…”

Not that you have much to work with, John thought with all the bitterness he was brewing away inside.

“Thanks,” she said dismissively as she stormed away on her pointless little mission.

“No problem,” John said with a cheerful little wave, “you stupid jerk,” he added quietly, unable to hold it in. He didn’t care if she heard or not, but they were in a library, and raising his voice any more than he already did would be rude.

Once the offending lady was gone, John strolled over to Mickey’s hiding place, finding him with his arms around his knees. “She’s gone,” he said simply. Mickey was not standing to leave. He was staring at the shelves across from him with the same sort of vacant stare that John instantly recognized as dissociative. It wouldn’t be good to just leave him there. He knelt down and waved his hand in front of his eyes. “You home in there?”

“Huh?” Mickey came back to reality. “Sorry. I…” He clammed up for a moment. “I’m not good with women.”

“Ha! You and me both, Mick’,” John joked, nudging him slightly. “You get along with Devi just fine, though.”

“She’s different,” he muttered. “She’s not like…that.”

Talk about vague. Still, if John had any guess he’d bet on… “Abusive?”

Mickey drew in on himself a little. “Yeah. She’s calm. Doesn’t yell. Doesn’t belittle anyone. Doesn’t laugh at people for nothin’.”

Ah. That explained a few things. “Sheesh, I’m two out of three, there. It’s a wonder you talk to me.”

Mickey stared at him firmly. “You’re different, too,” he stated. “And you’ve been there.”

John was perplexed, for once. He hadn’t mentioned anything of his relationship with Harley to anyone, much less in a place Mickey could’ve heard.

“I keep thinkin’ I’ll wake up and be back there,” he explained, running a hand through his short crew-cut and staring at his worn tennis shoes. “In that house. Like nothing changed…”

Ohh, that’s what he’d meant when he said he ‘got’ why John didn’t want to go back to Arkham. Mickey had lived in an abusive place he was forced to call home for a long time.

John wasn’t going to pry further. He didn’t need to. Mickey had finally cracked open like the other eggs at Arkham, and John could see the yolk swimming in its translucent goo.

Mickey was clearly thinking about that trauma now, seeing as how it was at the forefront of everything. It’s wouldn’t be very good of John to leave him on his own now, even if Karen didn’t come back.

But could he risk letting Mickey in on the big mystery? Mickey wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box, but he paid attention enough. A different point of view wouldn’t hurt, either.

“Well sitting there thinking about it all night’s not going to do you any favors,” John said with a nudge on his shoulder. “Trust me, every doc’ I’ve ever had tells me that! Ha ha!” Dial it back; that was too light-hearted. “I know something that will get your mind off it - always works for me, anyway: puzzles. And I’ve got one upstairs I could use some help on.”

“…okay.” Mickey stood by himself, clearly intent on leaving now. “I’ll get Devi, too.”

“The more, the merrier,” John shrugged. “Don’t wait up, I’ve got to make a call first.”

Mickey blinked, apparently examining him for any trace of a lie, and seemed satisfied. “Thanks, John.”

Finally, some decent recognition. “You’re welcome.”

Mickey stuck his hands in his hoodie’s pockets and walked away without another word or gesture that would indicate he had anything else to say.

So John did what he came there to do:  he pretended to be looking for something in the back rows until he seemed settled on something, and sank to the floor with his phone out.

He had to share his findings with Bruce. He couldn’t keep the knowledge of Ian Coggs’ name to himself for another day – he needed more information, but Bruce needed it even more, and surely he’d be ever-so-grateful that John had tossed a nice bundle of intel’ his way that Bruce would heap some praise onto him in beautiful voice of his.

John stared at his last message from Batman’s number.

Checking out Sionis’ place. Wish me luck.

John, of course, had wished him the best luck accompanied by ten heart emoticons. But that was last night, and there was no news on Roman Sionis suddenly being arrested or disappearing or anything like that today. So more than likely, Bruce was still looking for him...

He scrolled up a little. Apparently the guy whose charge-card was used to book the hotel room from the latest serial murder was claiming it was fraudulent charges. Naturally.

John looked at his contact list anyway. Calling Bruce on the job via his cell might interrupt him. He could try the ‘office’ - aka the Batcave - and see if he could catch him early and get him to do a tiny little search.

But he also didn’t want to bother him too much. Bruce had his plate piled high like he had the last clean one at a crowded buffet.

He could call Tiffany. She might be mad at Bruce - and somewhat rightfully so - but it didn’t mean she wouldn’t cooperate if he dangled the right bait.

Not to mention, Tiffany was less likely to be busy. He doubted they made up yet, so she probably wasn’t at the cave. He chose her cell, deciding that if she didn’t pick up, he’d try the cave next.

One...two… John gave a low little whistle as it continued to ring, the little theme song cycling back around again. Five...six…

Rustle, rustle. “...hello?”

“Hi-ya, Tiff’,” he greeted, listening for anything in the background to give away where she was, “What’cha doin’?”

“Well I was eating,” she answered somewhat grumpily, sounding like she had her mouth half-full. “You better have something good to interrupt my biryani.”

He could hear a slight hum, like a high-powered fan on a computer. There was no echo - she wasn’t in the cave. Likely at home. (Didn’t Bruce mention her sharing an apartment?) “Can you do me a teeensy favor?”

“What kind?” It wasn’t dismissive, but it wasn’t curious enough. Still, he could run with it.

“The firewall-breaching and record-lookup kind. I’d do it, but I don’t have the skills to break into records on a cell.” He tapped on his knee, choosing his next words carefully. “Which is why I’m asking you - you could break into BlackGate’s network with a screwdriver and one of those vendor-locked phones for kids.”

“I’ll have to add that to my bucket list,” she joked. A good sign. “What are you trying to break into?”

“Whatever’s at 400 Wanda Way in Bludhaven.”

Click-click-clack. “Haven’s Helping Hand?”

“Ooh-hoo, sounds legit.” Which meant Ian picked the place. He probably never set foot in it, but it was worth a look just to make sure.

“...so, what’s this for? You got a lead on our Chandis killer?”

“I wish,” John huffed, “but it is related to it. Our resident flying mammal is running around looking for B.M. and his lackeys and hasn’t had any luck; I think I’ve found one of them.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Well, since my friends here are working at places our main baddie has his sticky fingers in, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that mine was recently visited by someone who clearly takes orders from a boss; especially when I’m right down the street from the other little practices.”

“Wait, how’d you know Black Mask is involved with-?”

“Long story,” John interrupted casually, not wanting to delve into that, “Anyway, I also know the guy last lived at apartment 1105 at 511 North Blade Street. Since he’s definitely in Gotham there’s a chance he’d return to his old place.”

“Could be worth a look. Got a name?”

He couldn’t resist a good setup like that. “Why Tiff’, you know I’m called John,” he joked, giggling a little at how she must be pulling that annoyed face.

“...keep going like that and I’ll hang up on you.” She didn’t sound like she really meant it. John ticked off that little checkbox in his head.

“Okay, okay, sorry. It’s Ian Coggs - two ‘g’s.”

A bit of silence followed. John waited patiently, drumming his leg in the same rhythm as the old spy-show tune in his head.

“I’m surprised you’re not running to Bruce with this,” Tiffany mentioned.

“What, he’s not still out chasing the golden goose on top of our other two murderers’ shadows?” Of course he was. John felt it in his gut; Bruce was looking for anything, any shadow, any miniscule thing that might be a break.

“...probably.” It wasn’t quite a scoff - he could practically see her shrugging along like she was pretending very hard not to care.

“Besides, why wouldn’t I tell you? You were part of the team before me,” he said slyly.

Tiffany gave a little sputtering noise. “Doesn’t feel like it. If we swapped places, he’d let you do almost anything.”

That was a little true, but he wasn’t about to say that. He had the perfect opportunity sitting there and he wasn’t going to let it go. “Nah, he wouldn’t,” John answered, knowing there were several things he would absolutely not be allowed to do, “I mean, I might be ‘the adult’ but you’ve got more in the training department. And a better head on your shoulders; mine’s factory defective,” he finished with a giggle at his own joke.

She gave a sort of humph that he took to mean she was mildly amused. Bruce had done the same thing sometimes, with that little upturn in the corner of his lips. John wondered if it was something Tiffany had picked up from being around Bruce so often.

“Of course, you could always prove it to him,” John continued smoothly, pretending to be thinking it over, “If our guy coughs up enough, you’d practically be delivering B.M. on a silver platter.”

She was quiet; she was thinking it over. “You work near the docks; if he’s still in the Cauldron, it’d be a heck of a commute for him.”

“Hey, when the boss calls, you go anywhere.”

“True… I think it’s worth checking out.” John grinned and pumped his fist in triumph, tapping the floor with his shoes as much as he dared. Mission accomplished - he’d pulled the right strings, and now Tiffany was going to search the place for him! “Haven’s almost done cracking.”

John heard an annoying beep in his ear, souring his good mood a little; he pulled away, and sure enough the battery was at seven percent. “Hey, Tiff’, my battery’s dying and I get a pretty shitty signal everywhere else; you’ll have to text me what you find.”

“...it’s St. Dymphna, right? Which room are you in?”

Well, he didn’t expect that as a response. “Um, 308.”

“When’s lock-down?”

“Eleven...” He was pretty sure he knew what she was getting at. “There’s no fire escape or anything for you to land on, though.”

“But your window opens?”

“Yeah, a little...”

“Then it’s no problem. I can swing by in about an hour, hour and a half. I’ll be patrolling around there later anyway.”

“Well, uh, if that works for you…” He grinned to himself; a personal report, too? That could only mean he was growing on her, which meant more information on the goings-on, a happier Bruce, and one less stressful relationship for John to mull over.

Of course, she might just want to make sure he was behaving. Or seeing if she could gather any indication as to what he’d been up to and try to analyze him as much as he did everyone else… John shook the thought. Tiffany was a smart cookie, but she wasn’t on Iman or Bruce’s level of psychoanalysis. Even if she was trying to gather personal info’ on him, she wouldn’t know exactly what went on his head.

“See ya later, then, Tiff’,” he said simply, before remembering that Tiffany did not wear the same sort of armor that Bruce did, “And be careful; the guy packs heat on his right hip.”

“Thanks. Later.”

John hung up, feeling a sort of smug satisfaction. He’d be one step closer to delivering Black Mask to Batman’s doorstep and getting Dymphna cleared of any exploitive activity. And Black Mask himself would shed some light on whoever was pissed at him, solving the other puzzle that nagged at John’s already-messy mind.

Though, speaking of Dymphna and puzzles… John supposed it was time to get some other input.

*~*~*~*~*

“Look, it can’t be either of them, either,” John stressed, pointing to the map of Gotham he’d printed out a week ago on his wall, “Falcone’s dead, and when Maroni got shuffled off to the big house, half the city’s territory – these yellow flags – went up for grabs while their leftovers played follow-the-leader with a bunch of headless-”

“John,” Mickey interrupted, staring at him from John’s chair in the corner, “You’re doing it again.”

Devi flicked her butterfly knife open and closed from her spot on the floor, where she was sitting on several pillows she’d brought from her room. John likened it to chewing gum; just a little something to do to pass time. “He’s trying to say Macaroni and Fal-cone’s old running crews split up into their own groups, Mick’.”

“Then he should just say it,” Mickey muttered, crossing his arms and looking at his feet with an embarrassed scowl.

John resisted the urge to rub the bridge of his nose. “Devi, it’s Ma-roni.”

“I know what I said,” she smirked, flicking the knife open and closed again. “I like him better as a noodle.”

It was funny enough to make John chuckle, but it didn’t cool his temper. John was clearly not meant to be a teacher with how frustrated he was already getting. He didn’t know how Bruce had the patience for it. “Still. They’d normally be good contenders, but their groups are usually the kind to just get reabsorbed into other gangs, and our guy Black Mask-”

“Roman Sionis,” Devi stated, gesturing to the piece of paper John had taped up to the wall.

“- yes, him – likely picked most of the mafia’s less-loyal stragglers up. He’d provide the structure the need.” John circled the little areas he knew the loyalist parts were active in. “The ones who didn’t are a lot smaller in number now, probably still hovering around these little parts they used to haunt.”

“So what does this have to do with the ship?” Mickey asked, trying to follow John’s map marks. “You said that was Roman’s territory now.”

“That’s my point,” John huffed, deciding it was better to try and walk the annoyance out rather than say something he’d regret, “He’s got all this territory,” he gestured to the map as he made strides to their side of the room, “all these people under him, so why kill the informant? Why leave the drugs behind and make it so obvious that it was a hit when they could’ve just stolen the ship?”

“Woah, back up a sec’, hon’,” Devi interjected, leaning forward like she was interested. “You didn’t say anything about an informant.”

He didn’t? He could have sworn… Well, it didn’t matter. He’d explain it. “Ok, so – there’s five guys in the warehouse, right?” John held up his hand to gesture along, glimpsing the green nail polish still there. “Main guy, subordinate, two guards, and Muddy. Their van explodes – from the inside – and they all race out the one door with whatever firearms they have so they can escape. The shooter snipes the guards first, then the subordinate, but the de-facto leader gets the farthest away – the shooter had to get him in the leg first,” John emphasized with a gun motion at an invisible target’s leg, “then the chest. Muddy should’ve been out before the leader, but he’s captured instead.”

“So…Muddy planted the bomb?” Mickey asked.

“Yes!” John pointed at Mickey. “Exactly! He planted the bomb, he knew to leave last so he wouldn’t get shot up like the rest, and he knew when the ship was coming in!” He paced to them, thinking. “But that’s what I don’t get – if they had a guy on the inside high up enough on the chain that he was trusted with receiving that large a package, why did they kill him? Muddy could’ve provided all kinds of information in the long run - why rely on him for this one thing when he could’ve been their main plant in the whole operation? They could’ve found the Volto and Bauta heads and taken control of the area!” He smacked the map on the wall briefly, continuing to pace as his mind churned out everything he’d been mulling over. “And even if they were done with him, why not just leave him there with the rest?!”

Devi snapped her knife closed. “John-”

“Why make it an execution?! Why give him a gangster’s death twice?!”

“John.”

“And if it was all just revenge, why didn’t they wait until they could meet Black Mask personally to kill him, too?! Hell, blow his whole house up sky-fucking-h-!”

“JOHN.”

John suddenly found himself stopped in his tracks in the middle of the room with Devi’s hands on his shoulders.

“You’re ramblin’ again,” she said, smiling gently up at him and patting his shoulders. “Just take a breath, J’.”

He wasn’t rambling, he was just talking fast and trying to get all the thoughts out that had been piled in his brain for the past several days.

...but it wasn’t worth arguing over. Devi and Mickey didn’t have his sort of brain chemistry; they wouldn’t get it. It was easier to just ‘calm down’ even if it wasn’t necessary. It’s not like it would hurt.

John breathed in and out, clenching and unclenching his fists in time for several beats. Sure enough, he did feel calmer. Not that he wanted to, but...still.

“There ya go,” Devi soothed, patting him gently. “Better?”

“Yeah,” he lied. He wasn’t, he wanted to get it all out, just say everything that had been on his mind for the past several days. Wanted to just make them sit there, a captive audience, and ask everything even if he didn’t get an answer.

“Good. You’re onto somethin’.”

John blinked. “...I am?”

Mickey hummed to himself a little in thought. “I know why.”

John felt more confused. “Why what?”

“Why they didn’t wait to meet Black Mask. You said no one in his gang has seen his face - your guy has.” Mickey said with a little shrug.

Devi gave a little ooh. “Whaddya know, Mick’, we’re on the same page,” she said brightly with an impressed tilt of her head.

That would mean the killer knew Black Mask was Roman Sionis. “But why wouldn’t they just go directly to…” The second he said it aloud it clicked. It was why they left the drugs behind, why they drilled it home it was a hit – a herring in maraschino red.  It wasn’t about strictly killing Roman, but eventually taking his place. “It’s an inside job.”

“Ya said it yourself, J’,” Devi shrugged, “Those gangs he picked up ain’t loyal. Besides, you crossed off everyone else.”

Of course. It wasn’t some rival gang, it was someone in his gang, leading them all to believe it was a rival to throw Black Mask off the scent! That stupid sign with the bodies was just another herring! John had been looking up the wrong thing for days, hunting for a shadow!

Ha ha ha ha ha!

He couldn’t help but laugh at himself. At the whole ridiculous thing. How utterly silly they’d been.

And he caught himself remembering that random laughter wasn’t something most people took kindly to a little too late. Devi was glancing between his eyes as if to guess if he was having a manic episode. Mickey was stock-still, watching him with something similar. “S-sorry,” he said, trying to cover the last bit, “It’s just funny how dumb I’ve been. I mean, really, really dumb.”

They looked a little more convinced.

John rubbed the back of his neck, trying to rub the awkward feeling away as he stared right back at Devi, trying to let her see how sane he was. “Really, I would’ve just kept going in circles without-”

John felt like everything in the world had slowed to a crawl:  a dot of red rolled over Devi’s hair where her temple was, climbing up and disappearing like it had never been there in an instant.

It was like something in him woke up – he grabbed her shoulders and pushed her forward, hearing glass shatter before they even hit the hard tiled floor.

He felt the impact in his knees. Real.

Mickey tumbled out of the chair as Devi swore and John rolled away from her to force his back against the wall between them. He heard the thud of his shoulders hitting the wall. Real.

“What the hell-” she started, losing the rest as she spied the little hole in the wall where John’s head had been seconds ago. “Ohh, what the fuck.”

John was looking at the new shattered hole in the window, hearing his heart in his ears.

Someone shot at him. Someone had a laser scope and a long-range rifle. Someone was sitting out there, waiting for him to reappear, or waiting long enough to move positions and get him while they were sitting there.

“What do we do?” Mickey asked in a less-than-steady voice as he curled his legs to his chest. “What the fuck do we do?”

Devi shifted forward, looking like she was going to crawl for it. “We’re gettin’ the fuck out, that’s-”

John grabbed Devi’s arm and pulled her back with a hard yank. “NO!” She almost smacked back against the wall. “Look at the HOLE!” John gestured slightly to the bullet hole in the wall. “It’s lower than the entry one; they can see the floor!”

“Devi,” Mickey rushed, “You have a phone; you can call the cops!”

No, there was only one ofthose that could really be trusted -

“Are you kiddin’ me? You’ve seen how that shit goes! I’m black and John was tried insane – your half-Puerto Rican ass is the only one of us that can pass for one of their crowd! They’ll kill us just for sittin’ here!”

They could call Batman, but he was out chasing Black Mask, too far to -

“Well what the fuck are we supposed to do, then?” Mickey interjected too loudly, the sound breaking John’s already fragile grip on his temper.

“Will both of you just shut up and let me THINK?!” John shouted, slamming his fists on his bruised knees.

Silence settled in, but it felt like the thing inside of John was rattling the cage.

They felt it too, surely – the flight signal had been lit in their brains, but there was nowhere for them to go. John tapped his legs with his fingers one-by-one, feeling the material of his purple slacks as they made impact. Think, think, think – what do you know for sure, John?

There was nowhere to hide. Standing was out of the question. Crawling was just as deadly. They were all like carnival ducks stuck in their stall, brightly lit under a long fluorescent bulb, just waiting for the kid with the gun to aim just right.

They hadn’t been shot yet. Either the would-be killer was waiting for them, or changing position to the wall.

They couldn’t call out for help. Anyone who came in would be shot.

But they couldn’t stay there. If the shooter was smart, they would move after a bit to re-adjust.

So they’d have to throw him off.

John stared up at the long bulb, his mind whirling…

There was the obvious solution:  one of them could risk running for the light-switch.

It was almost sickening how easily he could imagine either of them bleeding on the floor by the switch…

When he thought about it, he was used to being by himself, but he was never going to be used to being alone. With his psychosis’ voices blocked out through his anti-psychotics, he’d found he’d missed the constant company, even if they didn’t always make sense or play nice with his brain.

But here he was, with real every-day company again. The kind that did, in fact, play nice and make sense. The kind that didn’t play mind-games or threaten him or let him get too riled up just to see what he would do. The kind that wouldn’t try to kill Batman if the opportunity arose, or kill him if they thought it was necessary. They weren’t constant, but they were there, as real as he was – he could hear them breathing and feel their fear in the air.

He couldn’t treat them like they were just means to an end.

The looked at the large fluorescent bulb in the ceiling, wishing it would flicker for a few seconds like the old Arkham ones did, and felt his own lightbulb power on.

“I’ve got it!” He grinned triumphantly, slapping his legs and feeling the sweet sting it left, “We need to break the lightbulb!”

Devi shot a look at it, then at him. “With what?”

“Something hard enough to shatter the glass?” John suggested with a chuckle. He supposed they could toss her butterfly knife, but it might not be heavy enough; they’d have to hit the right point. “The chair would work.”

Mickey looked at the desk chair by his feet. He was clearly rattled, huddled in on himself and looking pale. “It’s kind of big.”

“Don’t tell me those biceps are for show,” John teased, poking his arm, “Even I can lift that.” Mickey didn’t seem convinced. “Look, Mick’, you’ve got the corner. There’s no way the shooter can see you. You just need to squat and flip it up like it’s a table,” John said, gesturing the up motion with his palms.

“Mick’,” Devi said, “he’s right. You’re closest.”

Mickey stared at them both, then at the chair, and sighed slowly through his nostrils. “I guess there’s worse ways to go,” he grumbled, pulling the chair towards him.

“You’ve got this,” John said, flashing him a thumb’s up.

Mickey sneered a bit, but he still squat down rigidly and flipped the chair up into the ceiling, hitting its mark – there was the tinkling crash of breaking glass and a buzz of shorted electricity, and John instinctively covered his head as glass rained down and the chair clattered to the floor.

When he looked back up, they were all sitting in the dark. It was almost like being back in the Old Five Point’s office, where he had hidden while the Agency poked their noses in places they shouldn’t have been.

But that was the old John. New John wasn’t scared. Angry, of course, but he was almost…

Thrilled.

Yes… Toeing the line of danger, on a rescue mission for himself and his friends…  

John giggled, feeling ridiculous by how excited he was during such risky business. “Good job, Mickey. Got it in one.”

Glass shattered and a vwoop noise followed as the shooter fired again, causing Devi to push closer to him with a shout. The shot was a little closer to the edge of the dim light coming in through the window. A red dot disappeared, as if the shooter was turning the scope on and off.

A warning - they could still see in, they weren’t going anywhere.

Like hell they weren’t.

“Mickey, can you hand me my phone?” John asked politely. Mickey pulled it down by the cord, as if he thought the shooter could see it sitting there out of view of the window, and shoved it into John’s waiting hand. “Thaaank you!”

Tiffany was already on her way there - he could just tell her to hurry up. Or send that nice drone with the laser attachment.

John tapped his foot along with the rings. It was only three this time before Tiffany picked up, and she was clearly outside somewhere, because he could hear the wind rush by.

“Hey, how far away are you?” He asked quickly, keeping his eye on the window for any glimpse of the laser sight.

“A -” the voice cut off - “minutes. Why-”

“Okay, I can barely hear you, so long story short, I’m being shot at from someone on the building opposite me and would really appreciate some help.”

He could barely hear her over the wind and occasional break in the line. He was pretty sure it sounded like a surprised “what” and then something unintelligible.

“Yeah, so I still can’t hear you. I don’t know what they look like but I’m guessing they’re on the roof, the shots are angled down.”

Another shot came through the glass, closer to the corner.

“Aaand that’s our queue to leave! Hurry, okay?!”

John hung up, knowing she’d be there fast enough, but wondering if she’d be smart enough to hit them from behind or not. Unless they had a watchguard, which they could, depending on who they were…

There was no time for thinking about that. It was time to get out before the shooter decided to move enough so they could see them in the dim streetlamp.

They definitely couldn’t just run across. The pile of glass in the middle of the floor was a hazard on top of the fact they’d be seen. They couldn’t get around the little desk, either, since it was likely visible; they’d have to press flush against the wall to go under the window.

Or...they had to completely shroud themselves in darkness.

“None of you happen to have a stapler or somethin’, do ya?” Devi asked, holding something in her lap. “I’m tryin’ to think of how we can pin this to the window….”

John was impressed for a moment, having been thinking of somehow getting the sheet from his bed or the dresser to do it, but the feeling gave way to something more like a sinking stone plummeting to the bottom of his stomach.

She had been sitting on the blanket Bruce had gotten him when he was still in Arkham. It was the first thing he’d given him when he’d been put away; a green cashmere blend so soft that John almost wondered if it wasn’t made from clouds.

John yanked it out of her hands and clutched it to himself. “You were sitting on it?”

“The floor’s cold,” Devi stated plainly, not intimidated in the slightest. “Besides, you borrow my blanket when you sit in my room.”

That was true. He couldn’t resist covering himself in something as wild as neon-orange leopard with little skulls, even if it was only for a bit. But Bruce didn’t give that to her, she didn’t clutch it around her shoulders when she wanted to remember getting it, the cute look on Bruce’s face, the utter satisfaction John felt as he got under it for the first time and thought how finally, it was warm in Arkham…

He gripped it, telling himself that Bruce could buy a hundred more in as many colors and weights as John wanted when he got out. Enough to make the biggest blanket fort possible over the biggest mountain of blankets possible.

There was no stapler or anything handy, and he couldn’t shove them in the corners of the window… But someone could hold it.

John squinted at the window. He could stretch his arm across and cover it like a curtain; the pane and exterior walls were thick enough not to be pierced with bullets.

The chair was still on the floor. He was surprised no one had come running yet, with all the noise… There was a doctor underneath his room, gone for the day, naturally… But surely one of his neighbors might have heard.

Unless they just thought he was throwing a fit and didn’t want to get involved… Fine time for them to be ignoring him.

John rolled the blanket into a thin tube and swept it over the floor, pushing the shards of glass towards the chair as much as he could, flinching as another bullet pierced the wall.

He pulled the leg of the chair towards him by his foot, moving it slowly at first just to angle it right, and then yanked it towards him as another gunshot came through. Just as he thought, they were definitely targeting motion.

“Mickey, you’re gonna have to move.”

The burlier man eyed the chair warily. “I’m not standing up on that.”

John scowled as he stood to his full height, an urge to kick him only outweighed by the knowledge that one wrong move could hurt them both far worse. “For Pete’s sake, just move over next to Devi and stop acting like you’re going to die if you twitch out of line! I’m trying to save you, here!”

Mickey frowned, opening his mouth to retort, but closed it just as soon as he’d started, settling on just glaring back and doing as he was told, shuffling as John stepped over him to the corner.

“Now, don’t move until I tell you,” he emphasized, wagging a finger at both of them, “and when you do, crawl close to the floor.”

Once he stood (somewhat wobbly) on the chair by the corner, just barely out of sight of the window, John stretched out his hand in front of him, draping the blanket over it like he was pulling out the edge of a cape to do a dramatic reveal.

Pieces of glass wedged themselves in his bare arm. He could feel blood dribble out, feel the sting of cut flesh, feel a little spike in adrenaline and a familiar stir in his core that sent a tingle in his head…

Things looked clearer, somehow. His vision was always twenty-twenty, but somehow things felt sharper, and not just because little edges were digging into him. Without thinking, he knew all this, what he was feeling right now, was all very real.

He adjusted it to cover his arm with a little less glass-digging-into-skin, and upon draping it just right, it felt like he was almost a magician, covering the trick box from the audience’s view as the assistant did the rest.

“Ladies and Gentleman, the disappearing bullets trick!” John joked as he quickly shoved his arm over the top pane of the window.

It was just long enough to cover it completely, and there came a wonderful hush in the audience.

He could feel his heart in his ribs, pounding away like it was counting off beats, waiting, waiting, waiting…

Crash!

Crash-crash-crash-crash-!

Beams of light appeared one by one like tiny spotlights as the window. John barely flinched as he counted off the sounds.

At the count of ten, it went quiet.

John waited a beat, then two, and grinned wider. “And, ohh-ho, they’re gone!” John chuckled, “What a maroon... Okay, now you guys can go.”

“...what about you?” Devi asked, not moving.

“Just go,” John brushed off, not wanting to think about possible magazine refills, “Watch the glass.”

There were no more words, just the little thuds and occasional little crunch of glass telling them they were crawling as fast as possible. John held the blanket steady, thinking as he hoped the shooter didn’t decide to pack an extra magazine.

He could he risk peeking out across the way? Was the shooter keeping a few rounds in the chamber, waiting for his face to appear? Had they given up?

He might not see anything, but if he did, he would know at least the vague height of whoever was standing on the building three or four car-lengths away with a rifle, intent on killing him for whatever reason they had.

The door opened, letting in more light from the hallway, and Devi was the first to sneak through. John spied shiny spots of blood on her arms before she disappeared from view.

Mickey scrambled out after her, similar dots visible on his palms as he stood up.

John let the blanket fall to the floor as he heard them both call out for help. The noise faded into the background as he carefully took his phone out of his pocket. The little binocular lens clipped over the camera with a plastic snap, and John breathed in, smelling copper and the spring air of May, and slid his phone’s lens over the edge of the window, zooming in further on the building in the distance.

At first, he didn’t see anything. The camera was great, but it wasn’t exactly made for night use, even with the adjustments he made to the settings. Just black on a dark building, barely lit by the streetlamp.

But he moved it around a little, trying to get the exact angle the shooter must have been at, and he saw it.

A figure in the distance, barely seen at first, just a dark shape.

And then he spotted the drone with a spotlight, flashing over the figure’s back, and John pressed the record button just in time.

The figure whirled around with their long rifle in hand and smacked the drone right out of the air and to the floor, and seemed to hit it again, a flash of light showing off their silhouette again. One more smash seemed to satisfy them, but John could see them suddenly perk up straight, as if they heard something, and then they were gone, a black blob disappearing into the night with a whirl of a…

No. Not a cape. It was as if they were wearing a long coat.

He kept watching, almost hoping he’d see them come back so he could get a proper look at their face, but instead, he saw a figure glide down to the roof, too sleek to be Batman, and seem to rush to check if the shooter was still nearby, a second drone flying from their hip to scout ahead.

“John Doe?” A voice called from the hallway, light but smokey from years of tobacco use. An orderly - Todd something-or-other. “Are you still in there?”

“Yeah,” he called back, tucking his phone back in his pocket, “I am.”

“Keep away from the window. Police are on their way. I’m staying right outside this door, you just keep talking to me.”

“You don’t need to,” John answered, hopping off the chair and stumbling slightly, crunching over bits of broken glass here and there. “The guy’s already gone.” He pulled down the pages he’d taped to his wall, not wanting anyone to start thinking he was spreading some kind of conspiracy theory, and lingered on the piece he’d written ‘Ian Coggs’ visited Stitched Up Alt.’ on.

Something wasn’t right. The way Ian had looked at him that day, like he hadn’t expected him to be there. He seemed to have reported seeing him to Black Mask, but why would they go after him? Why would they care?

What was one mentally ill guy with a forgotten past to a guy like Roman Sionis?

*~*~*~*~*

John wasn’t sure what he had expected to happen after an incident like getting shot at by a sniper in the middle of the night, but he didn’t expect to be stuck waiting in St. Dymphna’s medical center. Devi and Mickey seemed adamant about not straying too far from him, despite the lengths the active officers on duty seemed to go to, shoving John in a corner bed as the nurse picked out the glass from his arm and they attempted to ask him questions while he repeatedly told them he wouldn’t talk until his lawyer arrived.

And good ol’ Reggie had practically come running on his short, square legs. He probably smelled a lawsuit waiting to happen. That, or Batman had ‘a talk’ with him about responding to anything to do with John as fast as possible after the whole thing with Dr. Crane.

John suspected it was a combination of both.

He was expecting Bruce, though, who hadn’t shown up yet. He didn’t mind if Batman didn’t make an appearance, but what felt like half an hour into the vocal probing, he found himself really, really wanting some comfort. There was only so many distasteful looks and thinly-veiled remarks he could take, even if they weren’t all directed at him.

“I told you, I’m not movin’,” Devi repeated for the third time, sitting quite still against the back of her own bed several spots over. She had the same sort of gauze bandage as him, only she had them on both arms, and some plasters under her short sweatpants where little glass pieces had stuck to her knees.

“If you’re sure,” Dr. Farms seemed to sigh, “Your sister said she’d be on the way. We’ll keep an orderly at the door in case there’s any trouble.”

Devi snorted. “These two aren’t trouble,” she said with a shrug. “I’m not wearing this t-shirt for nothin’, you know.” She gestured to the word ‘kickass’ spelled there in glittery cursive.

Reggie was quick-reading over the statement John had made, the end of his pen trailing underneath. John had left out the part of him using his phone, of course. He wanted to just grab it out from under his pillow and call Bruce himself. “And this is all correct?” Reggie asksed, tapping the fountain pen at the end of the pad of paper.

“Yup.” John swung his legs slightly over the edge of the thin mattress, gently digging his fingers into the fabric. He couldn’t do it too hard, or it’d attract attention.

“You counted fourteen shots?”

“Yuup.”

“...and how did you know when you could let the other two leave?”

“When no more shots came through. Isn’t that obvious?”

“Hm.” Reggie tapped the cap end of the pen against the paper. “This is acceptable.”

John couldn’t back the question burning in his head. The one he didn’t want a bad answer to. “So...what happens now?”

“Standard police procedure, they’ll investigate, ask follow-up questions - the usual,” Reggie answered, “As for your continuing treatment, I believe they’re still figuring out where you’ll be staying until the police clear this up.”

“What?!” Devi leaned forward, a few of her long thin braids falling over her shoulder. “You mean he’s not stayin’ here?”

“He can’t stay in an active crime scene,” the lawyer went on in his no-nonsense voice, “Especially not when he might have been the intended victim.”

“But he’s the reason Mick’ and I are even alive!”

“That doesn’t factor into the decision,” Reggie answered coolly.

“I don’t care,” Devi slid off her bed and joined John’s, crossing her arms and giving Reggie the stink eye, “I’m not lettin’ him go to one of those shitty state homes.”

“I’m afraid that’s not up to you. It’s up to St. Dymphna and the G.C.P.D.”

Them? They had a say in this?

No. No, no, no. He knew what they were going to do. What they wanted to do. He felt his lip twitch backwards and his stomach seize as something white hot hit him.

“I’m not going back to Arkham,” John said with all the restraint on the furious being under his skin he could.

Reggie’s fingers had twitched in a flinch, and he cast a look at John. “I’ll give this to Officer Hutton and remind him of that.”

Devi watched him go with a scrutinizing squint. “You doin’ okay, there, John?”

“Ha, no!” John answered honestly, finding no need to restrain his feelings any more. He felt the other end of the mattress sink; Mickey had sat down on his other side. “Just got shot at, interrogated unnecessarily, and now…” He crossed his arms, wanting to feel something remotely comfortable as the boiling point in his started to wind down to a simmer. “I’d rather have faced that sniper with nothing but a paperclip than go back to Arkham.”

Devi put her arm around his back, pulling him into a bit of a side hug. “I’ll kick their asses if anyone tries to put you in there.”

Mickey gave a chuckle. “Ditto.” He gave John a small smirk. “They’re gonna shuffle us ‘round to who-knows-where, but I’ll be damned if I let them throw you back. Not after you saved me twice in one day.”

John felt more of his anger ebbing away. He felt more grateful than anything, but there was that nice warm feeling that came with people doing genuinely nice things for him. “I’m sorry I yelled at you guys earlier.”

Mickey shrugged. “Better than losing my head.”

“Apology accepted. But it’s no big deal,” Devi said with a knowing little smile, “I’ve looked the devil in the eyes while only wearing a thong. It’s gonna take a lot more than that for you to get under my skin.”

John felt a giggle pass over him. “Better not let a doctor hear that - they’ve got scalpels.”

“That’s awful,” Mickey said with a shake of his head.

“Speakin’ of doctors,” Devi muttered, pulling out something from her pocket and sliding it into John’s palm, “Here.”

It was her butterfly knife. John had almost forgotten how oddly nice it felt to hold one. Light, dangerous, dexterous… The rainbow sheen on the metal was cute, but the fact that she was willing to just hand it to him, all trustworthy-like, was what made him smile, and made that warm feeling grow. “You’re giving this to me?”

“Doesn’t matter where you end up - Gothamites are bound to try somethin’ with you,” Devi said with a little shrug. “Besides, you could always pick a lock with it and run away, if you had to.”

“Run away to where?” John chuckled, “Bruce’s place is pretty far from all the funny farms.”

Mickey gave a short hum of thought and pulled a card out of his wallet. “Here.”

A key card for the Lucky Hotel.

“Better than nothin’.”

“You guys…” John almost felt like he was tearing up. No, scratch that, he was. “You guys are the best.” He put both gifts away (in separate pockets, of course) and laid back to grab his phone from under the pillow. The cops were all discussing matters amongst themselves, not even glancing their way. “You know what this calls for?” He pulled the camera app up and threw his arms around both of their shoulders. “A group shot!”

“Ooh, hold on,” Devi shifted, tilting her head just right for the camera angle, and smiled. “Okay, that’s better.”

Mickey shook his head, an amused smile on his square face. “I knew you two were crazy.”

“Ha ha, like you aren’t?” John ribbed. “Smile!”

A little click, and John thought it was one of the best he’d taken. Definitely one for the album.

And then, in the moment of silence afterwards, John heard it:  the instantly recognizable voice that wove in and out of his dreams, good and bad, real and unreal.

Bruce passed through the thin wall of police and doctors with the unmistakable stride of Batman, the sight hitting John like a jolt to the heart. Confidence, determination, power – it all came through in his steps, as reassuring and steady as the sunrise. It didn’t matter if he was in street clothes or bearing a five-o’clock shadow, it was Bruce’s Batman politely telling the doctor in his ‘fuck you’ voice that he wasn’t letting him stay there a minute longer.

John felt a hand push on his back, and barely heard to little ‘go ahead’ Devi whispered to him.

He didn’t care what was in his way. He didn’t stop moving until he was right in Dr. Song and Bruce’s space, not taking his eyes off Bruce for a moment.

“John,” Dr. Song said with a slight cough, forcing his focus over to her, “Bruce has offered to take temporary guardianship of you while the state goes through its’ investigation. As you’re a ward of the state in our care, you don’t have to say-”

“Yes,” John said, noticing Bruce looking him over like he was thinking of possible injuries, “I’m saying yes.”

Dr. Song seemed to have expected that. “Your lawyer and his are talking, but I made it quite clear that your current treatment is to be followed to the letter. I still want you to report for our scheduled therapy, and you’ll still have to make the appointments set by Mr. Casselli and Officer Kane.”

“That’s fine.”

“Medicine has to be taken strictly by our current regime.”

“Of course.”

“Work hours will still have to be met, if possible.”

“Makes sense.” Dr. Song looked like she was trying to find any reason John wouldn’t agree with. “Really, doc’, you act like I’m not going to come back,” John said with a light chuckle, “I kind of need that certificate of sanity, you know.”

“I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting in to.”

Oh, believe me, I know, John thought to himself, not daring to say it aloud. “I’m sure I can handle it,” he said, sounding as confident as half of him felt.

She seemed a little more at ease. “I’ll draft up the prescriptions.”

The second she was turned away, John trapped Bruce in his arms, intent on feeling the warmth radiate from beneath his plain white button down into his chest, and suddenly felt more…vulnerable than before. He knew he was safe – he was with Bruce – but when Bruce lightly held him back and said ‘it’s okay’ in that soothing, meaningful voice, the little walls in John collapsed, and he found himself clinging onto him for life and falling for him all over again.

*~*~*~*~*

Notes:  

Congratulations, John, you officially made two new friends!!! °˖ ✧◝(○ ヮ ○)◜✧˖ ° I’m so proud of you!!!

Thank you all for your continuing support!!! *.⋆( ˘̴͈́ ॢ꒵ॢ ˘̴͈̀ )⋆.* I hope you can feel my love radiate from the screen!

As you can tell, I had a heck of a time with this chapter. Sure, it’s almost a full week later than previously thought, but look how much stuff happened! It wasn’t originally planned to be this long - but hey, John needs to bond with people, so damn it, I’m gonna write it and make it believable! I had fun making use of the “camera feature” here and adding in investigation choices and a new time-out feature. And I had loooots of fun bringing out our vigilante!Joker in John throughout! I hope I did our boy justice! I reconsidered and rewrote a lot, but I’m pretty dang happy with how much I’ve laid out so far and what this chapter’s accomplished. Especially the little things I’ve hidden in here… Heheheheehheeh!

Next time we’ll return with Bruce, who seems to have a full colony living in his house as two sides of the mystery start to come together… See you in (hopefully) two weeks!

#ttoj #the tolls of justice #Bttts s4 #telltale batman #batman the telltale series #fordarkisthesuede writes #abuse mention #mental illness #gun violence #bonding over trauma #vigilante!joker #*sniff* I'm so proud of our boy #john doe #telltale batjokes #....just a squeeze of the #juce #chapter 6 will have a nice refreshing glass of juce #;) #batjokes #my non-spoiler spoiler post was fun i'll do that again next time! #see you soon!!!! #i love you!!!!

[thewaitisogre]

WEEK 4 RECAP: Trios Night October 15, 2018

This week the couples were asked to perform a trio with an all-star, a friend from home, or in Alexis and Alan’s case Maddie Ziegler. Why? Because why not. Producers are feeling frisky and concepts are being explored all at once. The takeaway tonight was Bachelor Nation is powerful and we need to make sure they vote for the right candidate this midterm election. Joe is still in the game despite his complete lack of timing and it’s thanks to his fans. Is there a point in keeping Joe still? Bachelor Nation, you’re voting for him out of brand loyalty, but at what cost? My sanity? Joe reached his peak weeks ago and it’s time to get real. Vote for Milo, Evanna, Len Goodman, anyone! Just stop voting for Joe. 

Dances

Juan Pablo featuring Melissa Rycroft | cha cha | 8 8 8

Juan Pablo and pro Cheryl were paired with All-Stars winner Melissa Rycroft.  This cha cha had a lot moments of just Juan Pablo pounding the air. We get it, you can swivel your hips. 

Tinashe featuring Amy Purdy | tango | 9 9 9

Is this a Kavanaugh hearings inspired tango? At the end the jury raised a sign that said “guilty.” I’m just saying! Here is the thing with Tinashe and other stars that come with dance experience. They come polished and trained. They can’t grow week to week because they’re already dancers. If a dancer does come on the show they need to play the game with storytelling, like Lindsey Stirling, and I don’t know what her journey is yet. Heck, Tinashe’s Willy Wonka bob gave me more to talk about than her journey. 

John featuring Joey Fatone | Argentine Tango | 7 7 7

John and Emma get assisted by Asterisk NSYNCer Joey Fatone in an Argentine Tango where they play space commanders in Ancient Greece? I’m confused by the concept. Hair caught in zipper incident aside, this was an ambitious number with too much on its plate. 

Evanna featuring Scarlett Byrn | salsa | 8 8 8

This week they’re aided by Harry Potter co-star and friend Scarlett Byrn. I knew when I saw Scarlett wrongly breaking the fourth wall that she was going to be trouble. In the package I noticed Scarlett suffers from Caucasianitis. For just 15 cents you can sponsor a patient suffering from this condition. I was hoping it wouldn’t hinder their saucy salsa, but it did. Second-runner up Janell Parrish would’ve been a great fit.

Demarcus featuring Rashad Jennings | paso doble | 7 7 8

A pretty nominal paso set on football field to a OneRepublic-sounding song. Nothing much to say, so let’s talk about Demarcus’ finger! When season 24 winner Rashad Jennings entered rehearsal Demarcus and Rashad had a greeting (that totally wasn’t practiced 27 times) so epic that Demarcus broke his finger. The good news is his finger is fine now. The even better news is surviving an injury improves your chances of winning by 12%.

Mary Lou featuring Nastia Liukin | charleston | 9 8 9

In the package Mary Lou talked about how she is having a hard time not comparing herself to others because her career depended on being perfect. “I don’t need to win the Olympics in everything I do.” Thanks for giving us a quote worthy of Pinterest. Something clicked this week for this couple and the scores were stellar. You all know how I feel about Joe, but I would understand if Mary Lou left next week because she had the breakthrough all contestants dream of.

Milo featuring Riker Lynch | salsa | 10 9 10

Dance soulmates Milo and Riker assisted Witney in a salsa very derivative of Jordan, Corbin and Lindsay’s trio salsa to Meryl and Maks’ salsa song. This could’ve gotten a perfect score if I hadn’t seen it before. 

Joe featuring Jordan Kimball | salsa | 5 5 5

While everyone else was paired with a somewhat competent dancer, Joe was paired with a Bachelor colleague who is shockingly worse than him. A second into the dance Jordan’s tareaway didn’t tare completely defeating the purpose of dancing to “I’m Too Sexy.” I guess Jordan wasn’t too sexy for his shirt. About the dance, Joe and Jordan jigged and flailed like drunk aunts doing the YMCA. Luckily, the boys provided a chemistry class safety shower to wash our eyes with. Evanna, can you spare a spell to forget this dance?

Alexis featuring Maddie Ziegler | tango | 8 8 9

This was the palate cleanser I deserved. I’m not mad at it! I liked the spins, the charisma, and the frame, but it was missing some signature tango elements. I think Alexis suffered being paired with a dancer of Maddie’s caliber. There was no way she could ever match her lines and she was upstaged. 

Bobby feauturing Lindsay Stirling | cha cha | 7 6 7

A quirky cha cha to “U Can’t Touch This.” Has MC Hammer done the show? He should. We all know he could use the money. Caroline Rhae of Sabrina The Teenage Witch fame is in the audience. She should do the show. I’m talking about everything but this dance and that’s not good. Lindsey Stirling deserved better. 

Tom Bergeron Quip of the Night

“It’s Marie Osmond all over again,” says Tom after Joey Fatone fakes fainting. Marie Osmond fainted on Dancing With The Stars.

Len Goodman Zinger of the Night

To Juan Pablo: “Your bottom is the tops.” This is not even the first time Len has made a comment about Juan Pablo’s butt.

Jeopardy

Evanna and Tinashe

Elimination

Tinashe and her partner Brandon were eliminated. 

JOE LASTED LONGER THAN TINASHE. I was heartbroken at first, but then I ate a twinkie dipped in kerosene and it numbed the pain for a bit. How could this happen? I recommend you read this article Dance Network wrote on the factors that went into this elimination. My take? Girls, get the V For Vendetta mask because we are voting for Milo and Evanna from 12,000 different VPNs. 

Observations

Joey Fatone has tape on his hat during rehearsal. It could be to cover up a logo, but I want to think he is doing research to play a railroad tramp

If I see that “Oh oh oh ozempic” commercial while watching the show one more time I s2g

They apologized for mistakenly listing the wrong number for John so I wonder who they actually voted for

“You’ve got guns but not always the ammunition.” That’s Len’s burn of the night

Evanna and Scarlett’s lighting bolt on their costume screamed “WE WERE IN HARRY POTTER DO YOU REMEMBER THAT?”

Bruno fanning Len while Len gathered his critiques about Joe’s trio 

Click here for more Dancing With The Stars Recaps.

#dancing with the stars #recap

[ephemeral-writings]

ninety-four; sehun

14. wind

sehun x reader

word count: 1.5k of something that started too long ago and barely got finished now whoops

The bleachers were filled to the brim with students, teachers, and parents alike. Everyone wanted to witness the football championship of SM High. You personally didn’t know a thing about the sport except how to win which was to run the double-pointed end ball to the other side. You weren’t even going to pretend you knew which side was your school running.

But speaking of running, you watched as the players warmed up, some running, others stretching. Player Ninety-four was especially under your radar even while you squeezed through the throngs of spectators to where your best friend was supposedly seated.

“Over here, Y/N!” You spotted Yeseul in the third row to the field, waving you over. Naturally, you checked your vicinity to see if one, was it safe to walk down the steps, and two because you felt his stare. You cursed Yeseul under your breath for shouting your name so loud. No doubt was it a sly tactic to catch his attention.

Oh Sehun, SM High senior football player and co-captain, was staring straight at you. Yeseul had caught wind, courtesy of her boyfriend Kim Minseok, that the stoic jock had taken an interest in you. You hadn’t believed her at first, brushing off the matter since there was no way Oh Sehun would suddenly find you pleasing to the eyes or charming to no end. There was just no way.

However, when you finally reached Yeseul and sat down, you looked up again, and he was still staring at you, as if his eyes had followed you through the whole journey down the metal bleachers. It wasn’t until Minseok in his matching jersey, save for the number ninety-nine etched on his back, ran up to Sehun and clapped him on the back did he look away.

“What was that?” Yeseul gasped. “He was practically undressing you with his eyes!”

An older couple who sat a row in front whipped their heads back, shooting Yeseul a scandalous look.

“Jesus frick, can you not, Seul?” When you agreed to watch the game with her, you were only interested in testing out the theory that someone as hot at Oh Sehun could be interested in you, not for an opportunity for her to embarrass you in front of the whole football team.

It took a bit of convincing to get Yeseul to shut up about your non-existing love life, and focus on her boyfriend on the field. Minseok was a great player as far as you could see. He wasn’t the largest guy but he was agile as heck. You watched as he snuck up on the guy from the opposite who had the ball clutched under his arms, and within seconds, Minseok had him tripping and toppling over. Yeseul was all for cheering for her man at the top of her lungs.

You weren’t going to deny staring at Sehun(he was part of the game, so-- yeah), and you’d be damned if you denied finding him ten thousand times more attractive. It was different than seeing the Oh Sehun in your literature class half-heartedly listen to lectures; different than him sitting in the cafeteria table amongst his teammates, and not bother to engage in their conversations. You had never seen Oh Sehun in his element-- in this element-- in which he’s passionate and driven to win.

You found yourself drooling over his physique that seemed to epitomize that of a football player-- broad shoulders, huge pecs, thick thighs. It was the middle of autumn. Were you really getting hot and bothered right now?

As the scoreboard drew closer and closer, both teams being equally good, every one watched with bated breath as player Eighty-eight from your school ran from 40 left field to the end zone on the right. One of the player from the opposite team was literally head-to-ass chasing him. However, the guy was quickly taken down by Sehun as Eighty-eight successfully made the touchdown. The crowd went roaring. After almost two hours of investing yourself in the sport, you were quick to immerse yourself in cheering along. You screamed until your throat itched.

“C’mon! Let’s go!” Yeseul grabbed your arm and weaved you out of the bleachers, dragging you to God-knows-where.

It was dark, but you picked up the sound of a mass of baritone voices cheering and the noise got clearer the more you walked. Coming to a clearing, the stadium lights blinded you momentarily, and you realized that Yeseul had released you from her grip to run to her boyfriend. Minseok whole-heartedly took her in his arms and spun her around like the princess she was. That didn’t make you feel lonely at all. All the while, all the sweaty boys in uniform couldn’t care less about the couple, and proved so when the captain, you assumed, announced a party at his house.

The mass of sweaty young men produced a evident sound of approval, as well as clangs of shoulder pads hitting against each other as some chest bumped in the air.

“Hey, Seul,” you interrupted, jabbing a thumb over your shoulder. “I’m gonna take off now.”

“What? No! You have to come with us,” she pleaded softly, but her eyes were threatening.

“Yeah, Y/N. And you know who would love you there as well?” Minseok leaned in and grinned at you suggestively. You blushed, but make no acknowledgement to what--- who he was implying.

“It’s cool. I’m a little wiped out after all, that, so I don’t think I can handle a party.” You chuckled weakly to further emphasize your fatigue. It wasn’t particularly something you wanted to spend your Friday night doing, partying with a bunch of people from your school that you don’t even know. Plus, you had a test on Tuesday that you really should be studying for.

“Ugh, fine, killjoy. You owe me a hangout this weekend, okay?” Yeseul idea of hanging out consisted of binge watching shows while painting her nails. You never understood the concept of multitasking, especially when you knew for a fact that Yeseul couldn’t understand a single word the people on screen said without reading the captions. Nevertheless, you gave her your word, and heading off in the direction you came in from. The stadium was already empty of its spectators, and remnants of the events was made obvious from the single custodian who was weaving about the bleachers, picking up the rubbish lousy people had left.

You were nearing the gate when someone’s scuffing of shoes had you turning around. Never would you have guessed that it was Sehun who was approaching you. With a short jog, he eventually stood in front of you, and being that this was the first time you ever had direct interaction with him, you were pleasantly surprised to see how much taller he was than you; you had to crane your neck to stare at the man in the eyes.

“Hey, Y/N, right?” Sehun had to mentally remind himself to come off easy, and pretending he was unsure of your name would surely do the trick.

You, on the other note, was dumbstruck that the Oh Sehun had finally decided to approach you, after what with all the teasing coming from your best friend and her boyfriend slash his teammate that had started just shy of four months ago.

Had it not been for Sehun’s sudden sneeze, you would’ve been caught staring at his handsome face for a second too long. He was doned in a grey hoodie with the school’s logo across his (broad) chest and a pair of black sweats, a combo that should’ve deemed warm enough for the autumn night, but you noted the clumped up strands of hair that stuck to his face and realized his sweat have gone cold from the chill air.

“Bless you,” you offered with a small smile. “And yes, that’s right. Did you needed something, Sehun?”

“No, I don’t. I just...Did you needed company walking home?”

It was quite an odd sight to see the infamous perpetual poker face morph into one of a more boyish nature; Sehun even had the audacity to blush.

“Isn’t there an after-party that requires the captain’s presence?” You chuckled good-naturedly.

“Co-captain, actually, and not really. They’ve had tons of party after a win and I usually bail out, and that never stopped them from partying,” Sehun explained. “Plus, I’m beat, so, yeah.”  

“Well, if that’s the case then your presence in walking me home is welcomed.”

Sehun, who had been hanging on your every word, grinned at your witty remark, and glad that you hadn’t rejected his offer. Unfortunately, before he could say something possibly clever back, his nose began to itch again.

“Bless you,” you said, unable to stop the giggles from slipping out.

“Thank you,” Sehun sheepishly scratched his temple.

“How about we stop by the cafe near here, and I buy you a drink as a thank you?”

Sehun was more than happy to oblige, and as you got to learn about Oh Sehun through an autumn trek, you figured your best friend wasn’t entirely crazy, but you were apparently. Crazy.

Crazy for Sehun, and just luckily, he was thoroughly whipped for you. 

#okay this isn't even a challenge anymore lmAO #it's just gonna be me sporadically wanting to write and using the words as prompts #okAY??? #exo #exo scenarios #sehun #sehun scenario #kpop scenarios #oh sehun #30 day challenge #fluff

[suzanneshannon]

Advice for Complex CSS Illustrations

If you were to ask me what question I hear most about front-end development, I’d say it’s“How do I get better at CSS?” And that question usually comes up to some CSS illustration I made, which is something I love to do over on CodePen.

To many, CSS is this mythical beast that can’t be tamed. This tweet from Chris made me chuckle because, although ironic, there’s a lot of truth to it. That said, what if I told you that you were only a few properties and techniques away from creating anything you wanted? The truth is that you are indeed that close.

I’ve been wanting to compose an article like this for some time, but it’s a hard topic to cover because there are so many possibilities and so many techniques that there’s often more than one way to accomplish the same thing. The same is true with CSS illustrations. There’s no right or wrong way to do it. We’re all using the same canvas. There are simply so many different tools to get those pixels on the page.

While there is no “one size fits all” approach to CSS illustration, what I can offer is a set of techniques that might help you on your journey.

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Time and practice

CSS illustration takes lots of time and practice. The more accurate you want to be and the more complicated the illustration, the longer it’s going to take. The time-consuming part isn’t usually deciding on which properties to use and how, but the tinkering of getting things to look right. Be prepared to get very familiar with the styles inspector in your browser dev tools! I also recommend trying out VisBug if you haven’t.

Two fantastic CSS artists are Ben Evans and Diana Smith. Both have recently talked about time consumption when referring to CSS illustration.

Diana’st PureCSS Gaze took her two long weekends to complete. She talks about some of her techniques here and here. “If you have the time, patience and drive, it is certainly possible,” she says.

I posted a meme-like picture about a cup and Ben’s response summed things up perfectly:

I was tempted to create this in CSS when I first saw the tweet but then thought my reply would take about a month.

It takes time!

CSS Illustration pic.twitter.com/vqpQLKTte5

— Jhey 🛠 (@jh3yy) May 10, 2020

Tracing is perfectly acceptable

We often have an idea of what it is that we want to illustrate. This article isn’t about design, after all.; it’s about taking an image and rendering it with the DOM and CSS. I’m pretty sure this technique has been around since the dawn of time. But, it’s one I’ve been sharing the last few months.

Find or create an image of what it is you want to illustrate.

Pull it into your HTML with an <img> tag.

Position it in a way that it will sit underneath your illustration.

Reduce the image opacity so that it’s still visible but not too overpowering.

Trace it with the DOM.

To my surprise, this technique isn’t common knowledge. But it’s invaluable for creating accurate CSS illustrations.

See this trick in action here:

Here’s a timelapse of creating that CSS @eggheadio 😎 Tweaked the shadows with clip-path after 🛠️ 💻 https://t.co/XhDRspwwFg via @CodePen #webdev #coding #CSS #animation #webdesign #design #creative #100DaysOfCode #HTML #Timelapse https://t.co/ZQ1hyzcoSA pic.twitter.com/iPf7ksYCGX

— Jhey 🛠 (@jh3yy) May 1, 2020

And try it out here:

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Pay attention to responsiveness

If there are two takeaway techniques to take from this article, let it be the “Tracing” one above and this next one. 

There are some fantastic examples of CSS illustration out there. But the one unfortunate thing about some of them is that they aren’t styled — or even viewable — on small screens. We live in an age where first impressions with tech are important. Consider the example of a keyboard illustrated with CSS. Someone comes across your work, opens it up on their smartphone, and they’re greeted with only half the illustration or a small section of it. They probably missed the coolest parts of the demo!

Here’s my trick: leverage viewport units for your illustrations and create your own scaled unit. 

For sizing and positioning, you either have the option of using a scaled unit or percentage. This is particularly useful when you need to use a box shadow because the property accepts viewport units but not percentages.

Consider the CSS egghead.io logo I created above. I found the image I wanted to use and popped it in the DOM with an img tag.

<image src='egghead.png'/>

img {   height: 50vmin;   left: 50%;   opacity: 0.25;   position: fixed;   top: 50%;   transform: translate(-50%, -50%); }

The height, 50vmin, is the desired size of the CSS illustration. The reduced opacity allows us to “trace” the illustration clearly as we progress.

Then, we create our scaled unit.

/**   * image dimensions are 742 x 769   * width is 742   * height is 769   * my desired size is 50vmin */ :root {   --size: 50;   --unit: calc((var(--size) / 769) * 1vmin); }

With the image dimensions in place, we can create a uniform unit that’s going to scale with our image. We know the height is the largest unit, so we use that as a base to create a fractional unit.

We get something like this:

--unit: 0.06501950585vmin;

That looks awkward but, trust me, it’s fine. We can use this to size our illustration’s container using calc().

.egg {   height: calc(769 * var(--unit));   position: relative;   width: calc(742 * var(--unit));   z-index: 2; }

If we use either percentages or our new --unit custom property to style elements within the container of our CSS illustration, we will get responsive CSS illustrations… and all it took was a few lines of math using CSS variables!

Resize this demo and you’ll see that everything stay in proportion always using 50vmin as the sizing constraint.

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Measure twice, cut once

Another tip is to measure things. Heck, you van even grab a tape measure if you’re working with a physical object!

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This may look a little funky but I measured this scene. It’s the TV combo unit I have in my lounge. Those measurements equate to centimeters. I used those to get a responsive unit based on the actual height of the TV. We can give that number — and all others — a name that makes it easy to remember what it’s for, thanks to custom properties.

:root {   --light-switch: 15;   --light-switch-border: 10;   --light-switch-top: 15;   --light-switch-bottom: 25;   --tv-bezel: 15;   --tv-unit-bezel: 4;   --desired-height: 25vmin;   --one-cm: calc(var(--desired-height) / var(--tv-height));   --tv-width: 158.1;   --tv-height: 89.4;   --unit-height: 42;   --unit-width: 180;   --unit-top: 78.7;   --tv-bottom: 114.3;   --scaled-tv-width: calc(var(--tv-width) * var(--one-cm));   --scaled-tv-height: calc(var(--tv-height) * var(--one-cm));   --scaled-unit-width: calc(var(--unit-width) * var(--one-cm));   --scaled-unit-height: calc(var(--unit-height) * var(--one-cm)); }

As soon as we calculate a variable, we can use it everywhere. I know my TV is 158.1cm wide and 89.4cm tall. I checked the manual. But in my CSS illustration, it will always scale to 25vmin.

Use absolute positioning on all the things

This one will save you a few keystrokes. More often than not, you’ll be looking to absolutely position elements. Save yourself and put this rule somewhere.

/* Your class name may vary */ .css-illustration *, .css-illustration *:after, .css-illustration *:before, .css-illustration:after, .css-illustration:before {   box-sizing: border-box;   position: absolute; }

Your keyboard will thank you!

Positioning is a tricky concept in CSS. You can read up on it in the CSS Almanac for more information on how to use it.

Or, have a play with this little positioning playground:

CodePen Embed Fallback

Stick to an approach

This is by far the hardest thing to do. How do you approach a CSS illustration? Where do you even start? Should you start with the outermost part and work your way in? That doesn’t work so well.

Odds are that you’ll try some approaches and find a better way to go about it. You’ll certainly do a little back-and-forth but, the more you practice, the better you’ll get at spotting patterns and developing an approach that works best for you.

I tend to relate my approach to how you’d go about creating a vector image where illustrations are made up of layers. Split it up and sketch it on paper if you need to. But, start from the bottom and work your way up. This tends to mean larger shapes first, and finer details later. You can always tinker with the stacking index when you need to move elements around.

Maintain a solid structure for your styles

That leads us to the structure. Try to avoid a flat DOM structure for your illustration. Keeping things atomic makes it easier to move parts of your illustration. It will also makes it much easier to show and hide parts of the illustration or even animate them later. Consider the CSS Snorlax demo. The arms, feet, head, etc. are separate elements. That made animating the arm a lot easier than if I had tried to keep things together since I could simply apply the animation to the .snorlax__arm-left class.

CodePen Embed Fallback

Here’s a timelapse shot of me creating the demo:

Attempted to put together a timelapse of the CSS Snorlax we built last night 😅 Amusing watching it back! 💻 https://t.co/vbVYmFUN5V via @CodePen#webdev #coding #HTML #CSS #webdesign #100DaysOfCode #creative #design #animation pic.twitter.com/0mJtLPRQfP

— Jhey 🛠 (@jh3yy) April 28, 2020

Handling awkward shapes

There’s a pretty good article right here on CSS-Tricks for creating shapes with CSS. But what about more “awkward” shapes, like a long curve or even an outer curve? In these scenarios, we need to think outside the box. Properties such as overflow, border-radius, and clip-path are big helpers.

Consider this CSS Jigglypuff demo. Toggle the checkbox.

CodePen Embed Fallback

That’s the key for creating curved shapes! We have an element much larger than the body with a border-radius applied. We then apply overflow: hidden to the body to cut that part off.

How might we create an outer curve? This one’s a little tricky. But a trick I like to use is a transparent element with a thick border. Then apply a border-radius and clip the excess, if required.

CodePen Embed Fallback

If you hit the toggle, it reveals the element we are using to go across that corner. Another trick might be to overlay a circle that matches the background color. This is fine until we need to change the background color. It’s OK if you have a variable or something in place for that color. But, it could make things a little harder to maintain.

clip-path is your friend

You might have noticed a couple of interesting CSS properties in that last demo, including clip-path. You’ll most likely need clip-path if you want to create complex CSS shapes. It’s especially handy for cutting off bits of elements when hiding parent box overflow doesn’t do.

Here’s a little demo I built some time ago that showcases different clip-path possibilities.

CodePen Embed Fallback

There’s also this demo that takes ideas from the “Shapes of CSS” article and re-created with clip-path.

CodePen Embed Fallback

border-radius is your other friend

You’re going to need border-radius to create curves. One uncommon trick is to use a “double” syntax. This allows you to create a horizontal and vertical radius for each corner.

Play with this demo to really appreciate the power of border-radius. I advocate using percentages across the board in order keep things responsive.

CodePen Embed Fallback

Shading techniques

You’ve got all the shapes, everything is nicely laid out, and all the right colors are in place… but something still looks off. Odds are that it’s a lack of shading.

Shading adds depth and create a realistic feel. Consider this ecreation of a Gal Shir illustration. Gal is fantastic at using shades and gradients to make beautiful illustrations. I thought it would be fun to do a recreate it and include a switch that toggles the shading to see just what a difference it makes.

CodePen Embed Fallback

Shading effects are often created with a box-shadow and background-image combination.

The key thing with these properties is that we can stack them in a comma-separated list. For example, the cauldron in the demo has a list of gradients that are being used across the body.

.cauldron {   background:     radial-gradient(25% 25% at 25% 55%, var(--rim-color), transparent),     radial-gradient(100% 100% at -2% 50%, transparent, transparent 92%, var(--cauldron-color)),     radial-gradient(100% 100% at -5% 50%, transparent, transparent 80%, var(--darkness)),     linear-gradient(310deg, var(--inner-rim-color) 25%, transparent), var(--cauldron-color); }

Note that radial-gradient() and a linear-gradient() are being used here and not always with perfectly round numeric values. Again, those numbers are just fine. In fact, you’ll spend a lot of time tweaking and tinkering with things in the style inspector.

It’s generally the same working with box-shadow. However, with that, we can also use the inset value to create tricky borders and additional depth.

.cauldron__opening {   box-shadow:     0 0px calc(var(--size) * 0.05px) calc(var(--size) * 0.005px) var(--rim-color) inset,     0 calc(var(--size) * 0.025px) 0 calc(var(--size) * 0.025px) var(--inner-rim-color) inset,     0 10px 20px 0px var(--darkness), 0 10px 20px -10px var(--inner-rim-color); }

There are certainly times where it will make more sense to go with filter: drop-shadow() instead to get the effect you want.

Lynn Fisher’s a.singlediv.com is a brilliant example of these properties in action. Have a poke around on that site and inspect some of the illustrations for great ways to use box-shadow and background-image in illustrations.

box-shadow is so powerful that you could create your entire illustration with it. I once joked about creating a CSS illustration of a dollar.

In CSS right? 😅#webdev #CSS #animation #webdesign #coding #100DaysOfCode #HTML https://t.co/VmyeySsK83

— Jhey 🛠 (@jh3yy) April 22, 2020

I used a generator to create the illustration with a single div. But Alvaro Montoro took it a little further and wrote a generator that does it with box-shadow instead.

Preprocessors are super helpful

While they aren’t required, using preprocessors can help keep your code neat and tidy. For example, Pug makes writing HTML faster, especially when it comes to using loops for dealing with a bunch of repeating elements. From there, we can scope CSS custom properties in a way that we only need to define styles once, then overwrite them where needed.

CodePen Embed Fallback

Here’s another example that demonstrates a DRY structure. The flowers are constructed with the same markup, but each has its own index class that is used to apply scoped CSS properties.

CodePen Embed Fallback

The first flower has these properties:

.flower--1 {   --hue: 190;   --x: 0;   --y: 0;   --size: 125;   --r: 0; }

It’s the first one, so all the others are based off it. Notice how the second flower is off to the right and up slightly. All that takes is assigning different values to the same custom properties:

.flower--2 {   --hue: 320;   --x: 140;   --y: -75;   --size: 75;   --r: 40; }

Animated responsive CSS Leif features in the latest CodePen Spark! ✨ For those who don’t know Animal Crossing, Leif is a green-thumbed Sloth who visits your island 🌻 Here’s a timelapse! 📹 💻 https://t.co/tkHX4nWXp7 via @CodePen pic.twitter.com/naJIrsSlYM

— Jhey 🛠 (@jh3yy) May 19, 2020

That’s it!

Go forth, use these tips, come up with your own, share them, and share your CSS masterpieces! And hey, if you have your own advice, please share that too! This is definitely the sort of thing that is learned through lots of trial and error — what works for me may look different from what works for you and we can learn from those different approaches

The post Advice for Complex CSS Illustrations appeared first on CSS-Tricks.

Advice for Complex CSS Illustrations published first on https://deskbysnafu.tumblr.com/

[recruitmentdubai]

Advice for Complex CSS Illustrations

If you were to ask me what question I hear most about front-end development, I’d say it’s“How do I get better at CSS?” And that question usually comes up to some CSS illustration I made, which is something I love to do over on CodePen.

To many, CSS is this mythical beast that can’t be tamed. This tweet from Chris made me chuckle because, although ironic, there’s a lot of truth to it. That said, what if I told you that you were only a few properties and techniques away from creating anything you wanted? The truth is that you are indeed that close.

I’ve been wanting to compose an article like this for some time, but it’s a hard topic to cover because there are so many possibilities and so many techniques that there’s often more than one way to accomplish the same thing. The same is true with CSS illustrations. There’s no right or wrong way to do it. We’re all using the same canvas. There are simply so many different tools to get those pixels on the page.

While there is no “one size fits all” approach to CSS illustration, what I can offer is a set of techniques that might help you on your journey.

CodePen Embed Fallback

Time and practice

CSS illustration takes lots of time and practice. The more accurate you want to be and the more complicated the illustration, the longer it’s going to take. The time-consuming part isn’t usually deciding on which properties to use and how, but the tinkering of getting things to look right. Be prepared to get very familiar with the styles inspector in your browser dev tools! I also recommend trying out VisBug if you haven’t.

Two fantastic CSS artists are Ben Evans and Diana Smith. Both have recently talked about time consumption when referring to CSS illustration.

Diana’st PureCSS Gaze took her two long weekends to complete. She talks about some of her techniques here and here. “If you have the time, patience and drive, it is certainly possible,” she says.

I posted a meme-like picture about a cup and Ben’s response summed things up perfectly:

I was tempted to create this in CSS when I first saw the tweet but then thought my reply would take about a month.

It takes time!

CSS Illustration pic.twitter.com/vqpQLKTte5

— Jhey 🛠 (@jh3yy) May 10, 2020

Tracing is perfectly acceptable

We often have an idea of what it is that we want to illustrate. This article isn’t about design, after all.; it’s about taking an image and rendering it with the DOM and CSS. I’m pretty sure this technique has been around since the dawn of time. But, it’s one I’ve been sharing the last few months.

Find or create an image of what it is you want to illustrate.

Pull it into your HTML with an <img> tag.

Position it in a way that it will sit underneath your illustration.

Reduce the image opacity so that it’s still visible but not too overpowering.

Trace it with the DOM.

To my surprise, this technique isn’t common knowledge. But it’s invaluable for creating accurate CSS illustrations.

See this trick in action here:

Here’s a timelapse of creating that CSS @eggheadio

Tweaked the shadows with clip-path after

https://t.co/XhDRspwwFg via @CodePen #webdev #coding #CSS #animation #webdesign #design #creative #100DaysOfCode #HTML #Timelapse https://t.co/ZQ1hyzcoSA pic.twitter.com/iPf7ksYCGX

— Jhey

(@jh3yy) May 1, 2020

And try it out here:

CodePen Embed Fallback

Pay attention to responsiveness

If there are two takeaway techniques to take from this article, let it be the “Tracing” one above and this next one. 

There are some fantastic examples of CSS illustration out there. But the one unfortunate thing about some of them is that they aren’t styled — or even viewable — on small screens. We live in an age where first impressions with tech are important. Consider the example of a keyboard illustrated with CSS. Someone comes across your work, opens it up on their smartphone, and they’re greeted with only half the illustration or a small section of it. They probably missed the coolest parts of the demo!

Here’s my trick: leverage viewport units for your illustrations and create your own scaled unit. 

For sizing and positioning, you either have the option of using a scaled unit or percentage. This is particularly useful when you need to use a box shadow because the property accepts viewport units but not percentages.

Consider the CSS egghead.io logo I created above. I found the image I wanted to use and popped it in the DOM with an img tag.

<image src='egghead.png'/>

img {   height: 50vmin;   left: 50%;   opacity: 0.25;   position: fixed;   top: 50%;   transform: translate(-50%, -50%); }

The height, 50vmin, is the desired size of the CSS illustration. The reduced opacity allows us to “trace” the illustration clearly as we progress.

Then, we create our scaled unit.

/**   * image dimensions are 742 x 769   * width is 742   * height is 769   * my desired size is 50vmin */ :root {   --size: 50;   --unit: calc((var(--size) / 769) * 1vmin); }

With the image dimensions in place, we can create a uniform unit that’s going to scale with our image. We know the height is the largest unit, so we use that as a base to create a fractional unit.

We get something like this:

--unit: 0.06501950585vmin;

That looks awkward but, trust me, it’s fine. We can use this to size our illustration’s container using calc().

.egg {   height: calc(769 * var(--unit));   position: relative;   width: calc(742 * var(--unit));   z-index: 2; }

If we use either percentages or our new --unit custom property to style elements within the container of our CSS illustration, we will get responsive CSS illustrations… and all it took was a few lines of math using CSS variables!

Resize this demo and you’ll see that everything stay in proportion always using 50vmin as the sizing constraint.

CodePen Embed Fallback

Measure twice, cut once

Another tip is to measure things. Heck, you van even grab a tape measure if you’re working with a physical object!

CodePen Embed Fallback

This may look a little funky but I measured this scene. It’s the TV combo unit I have in my lounge. Those measurements equate to centimeters. I used those to get a responsive unit based on the actual height of the TV. We can give that number — and all others — a name that makes it easy to remember what it’s for, thanks to custom properties.

:root {   --light-switch: 15;   --light-switch-border: 10;   --light-switch-top: 15;   --light-switch-bottom: 25;   --tv-bezel: 15;   --tv-unit-bezel: 4;   --desired-height: 25vmin;   --one-cm: calc(var(--desired-height) / var(--tv-height));   --tv-width: 158.1;   --tv-height: 89.4;   --unit-height: 42;   --unit-width: 180;   --unit-top: 78.7;   --tv-bottom: 114.3;   --scaled-tv-width: calc(var(--tv-width) * var(--one-cm));   --scaled-tv-height: calc(var(--tv-height) * var(--one-cm));   --scaled-unit-width: calc(var(--unit-width) * var(--one-cm));   --scaled-unit-height: calc(var(--unit-height) * var(--one-cm)); }

As soon as we calculate a variable, we can use it everywhere. I know my TV is 158.1cm wide and 89.4cm tall. I checked the manual. But in my CSS illustration, it will always scale to 25vmin.

Use absolute positioning on all the things

This one will save you a few keystrokes. More often than not, you’ll be looking to absolutely position elements. Save yourself and put this rule somewhere.

/* Your class name may vary */ .css-illustration *, .css-illustration *:after, .css-illustration *:before, .css-illustration:after, .css-illustration:before {   box-sizing: border-box;   position: absolute; }

Your keyboard will thank you!

Positioning is a tricky concept in CSS. You can read up on it in the CSS Almanac for more information on how to use it.

Or, have a play with this little positioning playground:

CodePen Embed Fallback

Stick to an approach

This is by far the hardest thing to do. How do you approach a CSS illustration? Where do you even start? Should you start with the outermost part and work your way in? That doesn’t work so well.

Odds are that you’ll try some approaches and find a better way to go about it. You’ll certainly do a little back-and-forth but, the more you practice, the better you’ll get at spotting patterns and developing an approach that works best for you.

I tend to relate my approach to how you’d go about creating a vector image where illustrations are made up of layers. Split it up and sketch it on paper if you need to. But, start from the bottom and work your way up. This tends to mean larger shapes first, and finer details later. You can always tinker with the stacking index when you need to move elements around.

Maintain a solid structure for your styles

That leads us to the structure. Try to avoid a flat DOM structure for your illustration. Keeping things atomic makes it easier to move parts of your illustration. It will also makes it much easier to show and hide parts of the illustration or even animate them later. Consider the CSS Snorlax demo. The arms, feet, head, etc. are separate elements. That made animating the arm a lot easier than if I had tried to keep things together since I could simply apply the animation to the .snorlax__arm-left class.

CodePen Embed Fallback

Here’s a timelapse shot of me creating the demo:

Attempted to put together a timelapse of the CSS Snorlax we built last night

Amusing watching it back!

https://t.co/vbVYmFUN5V via @CodePen#webdev #coding #HTML #CSS #webdesign #100DaysOfCode #creative #design #animation pic.twitter.com/0mJtLPRQfP

— Jhey

(@jh3yy) April 28, 2020

Handling awkward shapes

There’s a pretty good article right here on CSS-Tricks for creating shapes with CSS. But what about more “awkward” shapes, like a long curve or even an outer curve? In these scenarios, we need to think outside the box. Properties such as overflow, border-radius, and clip-path are big helpers.

Consider this CSS Jigglypuff demo. Toggle the checkbox.

CodePen Embed Fallback

That’s the key for creating curved shapes! We have an element much larger than the body with a border-radius applied. We then apply overflow: hidden to the body to cut that part off.

How might we create an outer curve? This one’s a little tricky. But a trick I like to use is a transparent element with a thick border. Then apply a border-radius and clip the excess, if required.

CodePen Embed Fallback

If you hit the toggle, it reveals the element we are using to go across that corner. Another trick might be to overlay a circle that matches the background color. This is fine until we need to change the background color. It’s OK if you have a variable or something in place for that color. But, it could make things a little harder to maintain.

clip-path is your friend

You might have noticed a couple of interesting CSS properties in that last demo, including clip-path. You’ll most likely need clip-path if you want to create complex CSS shapes. It’s especially handy for cutting off bits of elements when hiding parent box overflow doesn’t do.

Here’s a little demo I built some time ago that showcases different clip-path possibilities.

CodePen Embed Fallback

There’s also this demo that takes ideas from the “Shapes of CSS” article and re-created with clip-path.

CodePen Embed Fallback

border-radius is your other friend

You’re going to need border-radius to create curves. One uncommon trick is to use a “double” syntax. This allows you to create a horizontal and vertical radius for each corner.

Play with this demo to really appreciate the power of border-radius. I advocate using percentages across the board in order keep things responsive.

CodePen Embed Fallback

Shading techniques

You’ve got all the shapes, everything is nicely laid out, and all the right colors are in place… but something still looks off. Odds are that it’s a lack of shading.

Shading adds depth and create a realistic feel. Consider this ecreation of a Gal Shir illustration. Gal is fantastic at using shades and gradients to make beautiful illustrations. I thought it would be fun to do a recreate it and include a switch that toggles the shading to see just what a difference it makes.

CodePen Embed Fallback

Shading effects are often created with a box-shadow and background-image combination.

The key thing with these properties is that we can stack them in a comma-separated list. For example, the cauldron in the demo has a list of gradients that are being used across the body.

.cauldron {   background:     radial-gradient(25% 25% at 25% 55%, var(--rim-color), transparent),     radial-gradient(100% 100% at -2% 50%, transparent, transparent 92%, var(--cauldron-color)),     radial-gradient(100% 100% at -5% 50%, transparent, transparent 80%, var(--darkness)),     linear-gradient(310deg, var(--inner-rim-color) 25%, transparent), var(--cauldron-color); }

Note that radial-gradient() and a linear-gradient() are being used here and not always with perfectly round numeric values. Again, those numbers are just fine. In fact, you’ll spend a lot of time tweaking and tinkering with things in the style inspector.

It’s generally the same working with box-shadow. However, with that, we can also use the inset value to create tricky borders and additional depth.

.cauldron__opening {   box-shadow:     0 0px calc(var(--size) * 0.05px) calc(var(--size) * 0.005px) var(--rim-color) inset,     0 calc(var(--size) * 0.025px) 0 calc(var(--size) * 0.025px) var(--inner-rim-color) inset,     0 10px 20px 0px var(--darkness), 0 10px 20px -10px var(--inner-rim-color); }

There are certainly times where it will make more sense to go with filter: drop-shadow() instead to get the effect you want.

Lynn Fisher’s a.singlediv.com is a brilliant example of these properties in action. Have a poke around on that site and inspect some of the illustrations for great ways to use box-shadow and background-image in illustrations.

box-shadow is so powerful that you could create your entire illustration with it. I once joked about creating a CSS illustration of a dollar.

In CSS right?

#webdev #CSS #animation #webdesign #coding #100DaysOfCode #HTML https://t.co/VmyeySsK83

— Jhey

(@jh3yy) April 22, 2020

I used a generator to create the illustration with a single div. But Alvaro Montoro took it a little further and wrote a generator that does it with box-shadow instead.

Preprocessors are super helpful

While they aren’t required, using preprocessors can help keep your code neat and tidy. For example, Pug makes writing HTML faster, especially when it comes to using loops for dealing with a bunch of repeating elements. From there, we can scope CSS custom properties in a way that we only need to define styles once, then overwrite them where needed.

CodePen Embed Fallback

Here’s another example that demonstrates a DRY structure. The flowers are constructed with the same markup, but each has its own index class that is used to apply scoped CSS properties.

CodePen Embed Fallback

The first flower has these properties:

.flower--1 {   --hue: 190;   --x: 0;   --y: 0;   --size: 125;   --r: 0; }

It’s the first one, so all the others are based off it. Notice how the second flower is off to the right and up slightly. All that takes is assigning different values to the same custom properties:

.flower--2 {   --hue: 320;   --x: 140;   --y: -75;   --size: 75;   --r: 40; }

Animated responsive CSS Leif features in the latest CodePen Spark!

For those who don’t know Animal Crossing, Leif is a green-thumbed Sloth who visits your island

Here’s a timelapse!

https://t.co/tkHX4nWXp7 via @CodePen pic.twitter.com/naJIrsSlYM

— Jhey

(@jh3yy) May 19, 2020

That’s it!

Go forth, use these tips, come up with your own, share them, and share your CSS masterpieces! And hey, if you have your own advice, please share that too! This is definitely the sort of thing that is learned through lots of trial and error — what works for me may look different from what works for you and we can learn from those different approaches

The post Advice for Complex CSS Illustrations appeared first on CSS-Tricks.

source https://css-tricks.com/advice-for-complex-css-illustrations/

from WordPress https://ift.tt/3fyrAzv via IFTTT

#web developer #web development #website developer

[artdjgblog]

Innerview: M.L. / ​University of the Arts, Philadelphia, PA

April 2008

Image: MO Fine Arts Academy Name Badge / Logo: Roman Duszek

Note: ​Interview for a design student’s art history lecture​.​

Introduction:​

I wanted to know if you would be willing to answer a few questions for me. I really like your work, because I really appreciate the super hand-done and collage quality of it. I think it’s a way of working that’s often forgotten and overlooked, but personally I really like it, and your work really appeals to me. I’m especially interested in your work with show posters, so if you would be amenable to a short interview I would really appreciate it. You can just shoot me back an e-mail, or if you prefer a phone interview that would be fine too. Thanks! ​0​1) Did you go to school for art, or are you self taught? I was fortunate to attend one of the best kept secrets in design schools at Southwest Missouri State University (SMSU) in Springfield, MO. Shortly after I left, the name was simplified to Missouri State University. (Rewind A Bit to 1996) The year before my ​F​reshm​a​n fall semester, I was selected for the first annual Missouri Fine Arts Academy, which was held on the campus of SMSU. Before my senior year of high school (back in 1996) I thought about pursuing a career in architecture design, in particular, the area of sports stadium design. Though, after several years of lying to myself that I would eventually kick my math deficiency, I got a kick in the gut that this might not be my best choice. I loved to shut myself in my room for hours at a time drawing everything from comics to sports logos to buildings and such. I loved the creative aspect of this and felt that not only might I lose some of that personal one-on-one with architecture (though, nothing short of creative, but it’s a relatively computer and technical group effort), I would be held responsible to make the designs actually “work”. Being that I was terrible at math I didn’t want to be held accountable for future building flops. So, at the Fine Arts Academy I did a little bit of re-discovering of my own wheels, as I realized that I had more to offer from my fingertips. Raised from the dirt of a farm in the middle of the mid-west, I was pretty naive to most all things having to do with graphic design, I just knew that I should head in that direction, yet not limit myself only there. And I had shown signs of graphic design earlier on by way of winning a small town logo competition for a skating rink / bowling alley in the fifth grade. I just had a hunch while in creation of the identity (they kept the original, but i still have the newspaper clipping copy depicting my original entry) that I would be chosen out of the dozen other area schools and get my creation up on that big sign. Well, come time for the grand opening of The Fun Factory, my school principal forgot to notify me or my parents that I was the celebrated one to christen the new establishment. The next week she apologized, but i didn’t really give a care as I don’t like such sanctions of attention, and I still don’t. Most kids would have been struck with disappointment by the loss of a free chance to be the first to scuff the freshly waxed lanes with boulders and the new floor with skates, but the deep gut spoilage came to me by way of finally getting to see my logo up on that sign. I was devastated. My design had been butchered. This was my earliest memory of design sabotage. How could somebody take my vision and just ruin it? I look at all things in my life to have lead me up to this point in the writing, and so I feel that early little burnt spark in my gut that day told me something important…pour yourself into your work and protect that. (Fast Forward To 1996) To shorten the story, I came back from those three weeks of Fine Arts Academy in a born-again sense within my own talents, though still unsure of how to officially tap into it like I once had before body hair and outside influences and distractions pushed “play”. Being inspired by a couple of graffiti artists that I observed at the Fine Arts Academy, I began studying the art of typography (though, I had no idea what that word meant then) by way of this whole new world of urban language. And being that I tried to keep my nose clean and lived on a farm in the middle of nowhere, I just practiced my own graffitied typography twists and turns by way of perfecting one-of-a-kind personalized locker names and special birthday certificates for my classmates and friends on cheap Wal-Mart sketchbook paper. I was never so thankful to be attached to my small school in such a way as I only had two dozen classmate name plates to hand draw and color and diecut. If I did that now, my hands would surely buckle. I didn’t need to do it then, but I saw it as an investment towards the future growth of my work, or some way to start my last year of schooling fresh. My senior year was mostly spent in my bedroom making things. All of my friends had girlfriends and I had my work to sit next to on weekend nights. I also was inspired by a new art teacher at the school named Allen Heck. He was a real artist and not just some fluke or painter who couldn’t sell work so in-turn dropped on the totem pole to teach a crummy low-budget art program. Allen had a business head and an artistic head and he meant business in a classroom that spilled creativity. Even though there were a couple of art teachers before Allen that I admired, most art classes before his were mostly afterthoughts or throwaways. Places where the jerk-off kids could goof and ruin the atmosphere for the ones who wanted to be there to learn and develop, just like at most any school, i suppose. Anyway, I found an excuse to be in Allen’s classroom as much as I could and he sorta guided me on some design paths. I also helped him teach several of the elementary classes (we had K-12 grades all under one roof) that year. At this same time I was getting really involved in devouring music and an early mining idea of combining art and music started to strike, though it wouldn’t cement until several years later. Outside of Allen’s classes I landed a logo for the local Future Farmers of America chapter, along with other little so-called “best artist in the class” projects. A title that I didn’t really think I deserved as a friend of mine was ten times the draftsman that I was. Anyway, for my not-so troubles with the Future Farmers (I wasn’t a member and I didn’t want to follow my blood line), I got a giant canvas carrying case for artwork big enough that a beefy baby calf corpse could take a nap in it (I use it now to stuff my dirty clothes in for the laundromat trips). In early 1997, my guidance counselor set-up a special solo trip for me to visit an area company that specialized in yearbook designs. I went and wasn’t completely enthused about this place that seemed to put a lock on creativity in a darkened room with eyes staring at computer screens, shuffling around items given to them, though, I lied to myself that as I would grow older, this is what I might want. It just didn’t really say “Happiness” to me though, more-so (to quote The Beatles), “Happiness is a warm gun”. Still, I decided to go on ahead with going to a college that had graphic design courses. As graduation loomed on the purple and white horizon, I began to think a bit more seriously about applying for schools to further my education. Being that I had some solid fortune at the Fine Arts Academy at Southwest Missouri State University, and being that Springfield, MO was four hours south down the black top road (far enough from everything, but not too far for a weekend visit), I registered with no time to spare. Thoughts of the Kansas City Art Institute loomed, but they were more expensive, and i felt some sort of strange magnetism to SMSU. I ended up getting in by a scrape to the only college I applied for. I had the lowest common denominator for test scores and was in the top half of my graduating class as I was 12 out of 24. That was all the requirements I needed, the deal was set. The transition from high school to college art class (like most I assume) was a little challenging for me as I soon realized that the mold I was in previously had to be broken as I wasn’t comparable to skill with my new classmates. Though, the drawing classes frustrated, yet intrigued me, I did do fairly decent in my fundamentals design classroom. And this is where I learned more about making like-minded, potential life-long friends, a skill I hadn’t perfected much since my first day of Meadville first grade. All of my friends in foundations course were annoyed with working in cutting blades and paper and such…whereas, I flourished a good reputation in those departments and at times neglected all other areas of my studies to perfect my art skills. On break one early spring morning my friends spoke of much better things to come in the coming semester. Their minds were on the computer. They couldn’t wait as they had backgrounds in computer-related image creating in their high school yearbook classes. My school had one computer until I was a senior, and then we got a baker’s dozen or so. Other than that few hour visit to the local yearbook factory, I was naive to the idea of a computer as the essential tool for the modern day graphic designer. Exhausted by their comments, anxieties swelled in me and out finally popped my ignorance to the subject, “I plan to take the direction in graphic design that is done without the computer. I’m going to take the courses that are all hands-on.” And instant mockery, was I. My friends ripped me a new one and basically said I better learn pretty quick because graphic design wasn’t conquered without the computer. This is all really quite humorous to me know (possibly to them too) as I’ve somehow managed some mild success with my hands-on design approach and most of them are staring at computers all day in jobs they dislike or not even doing graphic design at all. Later that year I found out where the design kids were stuffed as I climbed aboard a twenty minute bus ride to the small downtown area of Springfield and up an elevator zooming past vacant floors housing archives of university products and collections to the top of a five story building where the world of graphic design officially opened up to me. Did it open wide at first? That answer is a giant NO as I was still so naive to what the heck I was getting into that when my friends early-on claimed, “I can’t wait until next semester for typography class”. I said, “Cool! We get to design maps?” ​0​2) Were your areas of interest in school (artistically) the same as they are now? My artistic whatevers were put on hold the first few semester of design school. Not only that, but they were run thru the emotional and physical gambits over and over. Being thrown on a computer was very troubling for me and there was a time that I almost quit design all together because I didn’t feel a connection to the work anymore thru the screen barrier. So, I struggled to find myself again for about a year and a half. Though, at the same time the design instructors at SMSU were (and still are) old-fashioned in a sense with their training and we still did many hands-on projects. I shined more in these areas, though my work still seemed more like decorating than me trying to say something. True, design is pretty much decorating and saying something, but, I couldn’t really find myself and it felt more like doing my chores than anything else. I think it can be dangerous when the designer is hogging the avenue and only speaking for their ego or style and not client intentions. Sometimes a healthy dose of both works, sometimes not. Anyway, I just didn’t “get” what I was doing and basically was doing an incredibly OK job at fulfilling my instructor’s projects. Which is fine, but it took me a while to really enjoy design. All of the instructor’s at SMSU were (mostly still are) from Eastern Europe and Russia. This was a great experience for me as it opened me up to not only a unique education in design, but also one in culture. I felt a strange connection to this as I was somewhat foreign being an artistically-challenged kid from a farm in The Sticks, Missouri. There is an exciting mix of design and passion going on down there on the fifth floor of that building. New wheels in me started to get greased around this same time and my eyes started to open a pinch. And they really thumped when I went on a limb to attach illustration classes to my already full plate during my junior year. I was starting to get hungry and / or full…full in a sense to where I needed to get the work out of my system. It was time for me to find my voice. ​0​3) How did you get started working as a​n​ illustrator? Growing up and drawing a lot, I thought I was pretty decent at it, but nothing more special or ordinary than creating strange, graphic WWII battles and mimicking comic book characters. I even had an epic, life-sized drawing of Batman I worked on at my grandma’s almost every week after school. Sadly, I think it was thrown away recently when she moved. However, on the back burner to the drawing, there was a side of me that always did a lot of cut-outs and saving and archiving of things. I think most every kid at some point cuts things of interest from magazines and tacks them to their wall or jumbles words cut to make “cool” sayings glued on paper. My older brother and I did this a lot. Mostly, we were just never bored and always doing something and always being inspired by anything and everything. We even created our own little magazine (I still have a few issues) at my grandma’s. My grandmother was a good influence on my creative side too as we were always making homemade things there. My siblings and I recreated any event we went to or anything we watched on television / movies in our sandbox, tree house(s), forts and bedroom. I was fortunate to have a large intake of popular culture and mix that with the experience of farm life and a lot of room to play. All of this fueled my creative side to where at a younger age I had a lot of options to choose from and I enjoyed and loved them all. Though, it took me a while to re-discover this within myself in design school. I was getting deeper into school and the ever present “What do I wish to do with my life” question(s) (among other personal mind trappings and inner wrangling). This especially was asked after I signed up with other design students on several professional studio visits. Every time I would come home with an empty heart from these “creative” places that felt more like controlled meat markets than anything remotely creative. Some people thrive in certain areas and not everybody wants the same thing, but the typical trappings of community computer screen shuffling didn’t offer me much hope at all. I have always enjoyed being alone making things. I’ve also been very protective of my creations and I didn’t want to be thrown into a factory-like design setting unless it was my own to where I could do what I wanted, when I wanted and have parental rights and control. Coming back to school from these studio visits was very discouraging to me. I felt confused and as if my career path was in a box already. Around this time I toyed with the idea of taking illustration classes to help push myself a little more as I wanted to keep what little fire I had in me from burning out. However, I wasn’t confident in my illustration skills as I thought I wasn’t solid enough at regular drawing. This is a terrible mistake that I feel many students make. I sorta had to shovel deep and realize the way I created when I was younger and that really helped cultivate a new side of me as I learned how to pour myself into and out of my work again and it was fun and special. Looking back, I think mustering up the courage to find confidence in illustration helped me in the long run. Though, at times I still struggle with thinking that I’m still not good enough at particular things. The only competition I have is with myself. ​0​4) Did it take you a long time to find a working style that you are satisfied with? For the most part I advise for makers of things to stay away from the trap of a “working style”. And it’s mighty easy to stumble or choose something and milk it, which is the feeling I get from the majority of artists and designer’s portfolios. It’s easy to stick with turning over the same old tires on the same old asphalt. I realize I have a certain feel to my body of work, but each day my head’s approach to life is so different (heck each minute sometimes) that I try to trust my gut instincts. I just try to speak from my heart, which ends up in my gut sometimes. A lot of times I trust good ol’ intuition. Of course, some projects require a bit more fine tuning than others as something like a logo has more life than say, a concert poster. Even though the logo might have more of a lasting impression, I’d rather put my butter to the blank paper bread of the poster. I love to try new things and just reach and grab at whatever I have around me and in my head, marriaging that with the band and the music in some strange brew. At times it can be quite intoxicating and when you do it enough and for a long while, you end up not even thinking, rather just doing and it’s fluid and non-calculating. This is when it becomes pure, this is when design becomes true language. I’ve had some projects where I’ll be told about it from a client and I’ll immediately have a vision in my head of how it should look, and then go home and start teaching it how to walk. Items like CD packages are very similar to logos because you’ve got to really give out something that you don’t mind sticking around a while in the lock-down of identity for a product or persona. There have been a few CDs that have happened out in a matter of a couple hours. The majority though, I like to have enough time to tackle and build in three separate sessions. But, I really don’t like sitting on projects for a long time. And usually the client has more of a personal care for a CD than a poster, so it might take a three act play or teeter tottering until all sides are fixed to fancy. I’ve had a few CDs that have stretched to almost a year. Being that my work is recognizable to a hands-on aesthetic, I’m sure most think that I don’t touch a computer. This is true and not true. I try to build as much as I can by hand as I love that connection I get. The screen barrier between me getting dirty with my work has bothered me and created anxieties with my work since day one in formal design class when I was thrown on a computer to mash buttons. I do what I can by hand and then use the computer as a layout and printing tool and I use it to correct or help put the finish on some items. Most designers forget that the computer is only a tool. If I could have it my complete way, I wouldn’t use a computer at all. I have made several projects in this way, but it’s hard to do it all in this fashion anymore and I have a wide format ink jet printer to print a lot of my more complex poster works with. The computer has ruined and helped designers. But, overall I feel that if it’s treated with respect and not used as substitute brains, then a designer will truly show his or her meat and potatoes. For the most part, I get a little disappointed in the output from a vast majority of designers as it all feels far away like an afterthought that doesn’t count, or simply as a decorating kit or pre-fabricated template you buy at a craft store. But, I try to keep my disgruntled burly bears close to my own heels. As long as I am creating what needs to be created from my own little corner of the basement, then I am a pretty happy camper. Though, the computer has broken many a bulb, not only with designers, but also with attitudes toward treating the designer with respect. Maybe it’s always been this way, but it’s easy for me to think that I can throw an iPhone and hit somebody who thinks they know graphic design because they can change the colors on their myspace or blog (and I’d have to borrow their iPhone to do so). It’s great that creativity is being fused with daily interaction, in a sense, but it can get a little confusing for people. I don’t think it should be reserved for a certain few, but I feel that everybody thinks they are a graphic designer now. It’s like trying to keep the raccoons out of the patch of sweet corn. You’ve just got to find the right gauge of wire to shock the perimeter with so they will find other food to steal and nibble. And there are still those who are hungry enough to go find and get the good stuff on their own. I suppose I’ve found myself to be more in tune to old folk artists and with the mindset of the old school designers and illustrators. Folk art is as pure in art and language as cave painting and daily ancient living. I like the idea of somebody just up and making something out of the blue because they’ve got to get their story out for themselves. Last summer I went from The Museum of Modern Art to the American Folk Art Museum in New York City in an afternoon and found a more pure-incentive to making things from the folk artists than the artists and designers across the street. It was refreshing. I had been enjoying my personal study of folk art history the past four or five years, but seeing it out of the pages of a book or web site really gave it a new light. And to see that most folk art has pushed into some avenues of the mainstream is really interesting, though chokes the purity from it original conceptual intention. I find that a lot of artists and designers are just as much about making themselves as important as the work they are producing. I just have never understood this idea. So, what individuals are my art and design in kin with? There are many, and it goes beyond just one field, but here is the short list: Grandma Gibson / Jim Henson / Stanley Donwood / Lester Beall / Saul Bass / Seymour Chwast & Pushpin Studio / Paul Klee / Ivan Chermayeff / Henryk Tomaszewski / Art Chantry / Vaughn Oliver / Edward Gorey / Saul Steinberg / Bill Traylor / Ray Johnson / Eric Carle / Cy Twombly / Robert Rauschenberg / Henry Darger / Hans Schleger…to name a few. There are a few items I’ve created that I can tell don’t speak right in retrospect (and they are probably obvious to others as well). These were the ones that caught me in a bad mood, exhaustion or in a lack of time. It’s so hard not to let the daily life and emotions influence the work. And in my case I’ve never been able to just chase my dreams, as I’ve had to work full-time day jobs and at times part-time jobs on top of those, and then slide my work into late nights and weekends (and I always had a girlfriend on top of that…now, a wife). It can be a hard struggle for a healthy balance. I just try to approach it with the idea that I am a man and a man who happens to make things. I am doing what I need to be doing and working hard towards the goal of some day having all of the clocks wound on my time. I have been fortunate in my choices of day jobs. I admire those who wish to live in near-poverty designing for bands and independent projects, but there is no money in it at all and it’s easy for people to take advantage of you. I tried it for a few short stints, but got tired quickly of scraping by and relying on musician’s responsibility of paying me and I ran out of belongings to sell to pay the rent. Throwing out the few bad apple clients, I must say I can’t complain too much as I’ve been blessed with some great people to not only work with, but also to have relationships with beyond the art. Janitorial and groundskeeping had me for 5 years and I loved it. The pay isn’t great, but I was alone and within my thoughts and had time to write and actually make a few things while on the clock. Also, I was able to bring home whatever stuff I could dig out of the dumpster. I’m still chipping at a 15,000 page stack of bricked paper that I found in a dumpster 6 years ago. Currently, I am in the second year of being trapped in a cubicle as a data entryman. It’s a great job, it’s not too difficult, I work with people I know, I walk to work, I’m able to get my teeth fixed and am setting aside some money now for my future, but I don’t plan to marry it as it’s not what I need to be doing with my talents. Many days I can’t sit still because all I can think about is going home and making things. Design is a way of life for me. It’s easy for it to start to take over at times, but I’ve been working on a better balance of it by getting up at 5:00 in the morning, before the “junk” pollution of the day. I love getting up before the crickets and getting to work. Even if I’m filling up on books and movies, it’s still work for me. But, it’s not really work, it’s just what I enjoy and I kinda need it to aid survival. If a designer only puts their design mind onto paper / screen into a 9 to 5 crack, then they might want to think about looking into other lines of life work to chew on. ​0​5) Do you do a lot of self promotion, and how? I’ve been in an interesting position to where my work has been trickling word of mouth for the most part. I’ve been surrounded in positions where I’ve been around musicians a lot and in general, people have been attracted to my creations to where they too want me to make them something. With age, I don’t get out as much to shows, nor do I live with musicians anymore (thankfully). Those days were great, but that kind of lifestyle can’t be taken seriously forever. But, it helped shape me in some way. And I’ve established myself, somewhat. It still amazes me that my work is speaking in the volume that it has. It’s certainly nothing of major impact, but it means a lot to me. For many years I’ve also been at a constant with submitting large quantities of my work to yearly design magazine annuals. This breaks my bank for sure, but it’s the best way of promotion as the work gets spread around the world quickly. I have contacts in many countries who found me this way and thus, offer me entry into their books, magazines, contests or give me a shot to make something for them. The internet is a great source too, of course. Recently I’ve somehow caught a breathe of fresh air from the web currents and realize the easy importance of putting myself out there on it. It’s a strange world though, and I’m still a bit ignorant of it, but I’m becoming more comfortable. I used to not be into self-promotion much. Not only that, I just didn’t have much time with it, being weighed down by day jobs and life stuff. And I’m a believer of the work speaking for itself and letting it take time to mature and incubate. Right now I’m looking at how much weight my portfolio has gained and am seeing what alternate routes I can walk with it. I’ve always planned to be doing my best work, for me, but I’ve never really pushed it as hard until now, as the big No. 30 looms. True, I am making what I want to make, but I don’t wish to be working a full-time job much longer. I have alot more to say and in different varieties of value packs and I just need more second hands to say it in. 0​6) Lastly, because I’m interested in doing show posters, do you have any advice on positioning oneself into that market?

I tell a lot of people a similar thing that I’ve heard Quentin Tarantino say to aspiring filmmakers, (to paraphrase here) “Just go and make what you need to make and do it at whatever cost.” Just get out there and make things and get those things out, even if you go broke or worn out doing it. Catch fire and start a paper trail. I was fortunate to not only love devouring music since the day my ears could, but ended up in positions to where I was surround by musicians and / or individuals with like-minded inner ear infestations. Most importantly, I found that I could merge the things I loved into a cohesive music and art stomping ground. My last couple of college​ ​years I befriended several bands and musicians and had my own little business on the side from class, making show posters and CD packages. After four and a half years of college and exhausting all my design class options…AND ability to fail Algebra four times and even an art history course…I had a higher calling to quit spinning my own wheels and dropped college from the daily schedule, among many other things weighing me down at the time. It was gutsy, but one of the most crucially sound decisions I’ve ever made. I moved from the Bible Belt Buckle comforts of Springfield and into a big, orange, dilapidated house in the middle of a shady section of Kansas City, Missouri with a band that had become my best friends. I almost didn’t do it as my pants pockets were turned inside-out and thoughts of sticking around the family farm to save up money kept me down. I think a lot of people were very disappointed in me too for quitting school. But, my decision was made and I believe in following the heart instead of stopping up the artery. I would have been miserable to stay at home and I had bigger fields to plow and sew. And I didn’t need a piece of paper saying what I was supposed to be doing. Most importantly, only I can tell myself what I should do with me. -djg

#innerviews

[theabominableblogger]

Rewatching “Batman Returns”

*zips up coat*  Welp, it’s snowy out.  It snows a lot in this movie.  Might as well watch it cause Netflix put all the other Burton-Schumacher movies up. 

*in best Han Solo voice*  I got a bad feeling about this....

[Mr. Cobblepot stands in front of the window as his wife is giving birth in another room] *in best Pee Wee Herman voice*  PEE WEE?!?  What are you doing here?!?

YOU LOCKED THE BABY [Oswald] IN A CAGE?!?

I feel like this movie gets even more Tim Burton-y as it goes on.

*jams along to the Batman theme*

Yeah no way.  That baby’s dead.  End of movie.

Stan Winston!

So... the Batman opens with the creation of the Penguin. 

*nods*

DC Comics *ding*

[Directed by Tim Burton] Yes, we know!

Matte painting!

“Man or Myth:  Or is he?”  Bum bum BUUUUUMMMMMM!!

Hey Alfred!

Is that Felix the Cat as the logo for Shreck?

Oh my Godddd, Christopher Walken....

“Frankly, I [Shreck] cringe, Mr. Mayor.”  It needs more cowbell!

You can tell they tried to make Michelle Pfeiffer really frumpy before she put on the Catsuit

The dude who plays Schreck’s son is trying his darn best to replicate Christopher Walken’s accent

“Remind me [Shreck] to take it out on what’s-her-name.”  You had her [Selina] as your secretary for God knows how long and you don’t know her name?

Ominous red lighting...

*The clown henchmen run out of the giant present*  I SAW DOUG JONES!

I totally forgot that @actordougjones was in this movie!  Holy crap!

Ohhhh that’s an awesome shot!

I wanna be that one random clown henchman just casually walking down the street on stilts and completely ignoring everything that’s going on.

“That was very brief.  Just like all the men in my life.”

Of course there’s a graveyard in this movie.

Wait, isn’t that one sculpture the one thing that pops up in Beetlejuice?

Gotta admit, the makeup on Danny Devito looks awesome

“You [Shreck] and I [Oswald] are similar.”  You both have hair.

“What, is that [umbrella] supposed to hypnotize me [Shreck]?”  I literally just had that same thought.

Wait so if Penguin doesn’t know his human name, how do his henchmen address him?  Do they just call him “Penguin-Man” all the time?

“Honey, I’m home!  Oh, I forgot- I’m not married.”  Gotta hammer it in that she’s single

I want that black cat like now

Why does Selina have a pair of tomatoes in the window?

WHY WOULD YOU GIVE YOUR CAT MILK?!?

Why would you [Selina] even open the protected files?

Worst.  Secretary.  Ever.

Green screen!

Yep, nope, she [Selina] dead.  There should a puddle of blood around her.

Here’s a fun fact:  cats will eat your dead body.  No joke.

Those tights are covered in runs.  Selina, were you even thinking while getting dressed this morning?

So is she [Shreck] just repeating the actions that she did before Shreck tried to kill her.

“... a candlelight staff meeting for two.”  Holy crap, how did I never catch that?

WHY ARE YOU SHREDDING THE STUFFED ANIMALS?!?  ESPECIALLY THE SOCK MONKEY?!?

Though in all seriousness, if she did shred them in the sink like this, she��d only get like half of one properly shredded.  Pretty sure sink shredders don’t work like that.

Where did the random black spray paint come from?

Is that wire?

“I don’t know about you, Ms. Kitty, but I feel so much yummier.”  Who wrote the script for this?

Hi Doug Jones!

So the Penguin is on this rising duck mechanism but then he’s able to pop fully out of the sewer in the sidewalk and step out?  Did his seat have a rising platform as well?

For a Batman movie, I’m 35 minutes in, and there hasn’t been a lot of Batman.

If Penguin doesn’t know his birth name, how the heck is he gonna find his parents in the public records?

Snowwww... all the snow...

I’m digging the top hat Penguin has

Are those black roses Penguin’s putting on his parents’ grave?  Of course they are.

“I was their number one son, and they treated me like number two...”  Oh my God...

So how is Selina able to beat up dudes when she even says that this is her first time doing that?

Can’t Bruce just sit next to Shreck or something so that he doesn’t have to toss the report across the table?

Freaking Bruce’s mouth stays open the entire time Selina is in the room.  Close it before a fly goes in!

So if Shreck were “the people’s man,” shouldn’t he have let Oswald finish eating the raw fish upstairs in his den before escorting him down to the surprise?

And why is Oswald’s hideout above a public workplace?

Why would you elect Oswald mayor anyway?  Why would Gotham ever think that this was a good idea in the first place?!?

“I’d like to fill her void.”  Noooooooooooooooo......

Did Shreck just reference the Reichstag fire?  Buddy, no.....

Doggie!

Gotham looks so much smaller than it did in the first movie

*Batman programs the Batarang to hit all four people*  Whaaaattt?

Most iconic shot of the whole movie.

Where’d she get the whip?

*Catwoman starts jump roping with the whip*  I mean... same though.

Wilhelm Scream!

He [Batman] just killed that dude!

Why does the store have a functioning microwave out in the first place?  At night time?

“Meow.”  Fun story:  so my dad and my sister I were watching this on FX and my dad refused to leave the hotel for supper until after this scene because he thought this part was hilarious.

It’s [the Penguin’s umbrella] actually a helicopter... 

*instant Star Wars Rebels flashbacks*

Matte painting!

Is that actually eyeshadow Michael Keaton’s wearing underneath the cowl?

*actually turns off the volume when Oswald flirts with one of the younger voters*

“Just the pussy I’ve been looking for.”  What was the age demographic for this movie again?

*Catwoman starts giving herself a bath*  Eewwwww....

I want Selina’s coat like now.

“Who are you [Oswald]?”  The dude’s running for mayor, and you don’t know him?

“Sickos don’t scare me.  At least they’re committed.”  “Well.. yeah...”  I mean...

“I will relay the message.”  Alfred is the best wingman imaginable.

Gotta get out the rubber cowl...

So how the heck was Penguin able to break into the Batmobile if he hadn’t even seen it before?

*The Ice Princess falls right on top of the fuse box*  Yeah, no, she’s dead.

*quotes the mistletoe quote*

[Catwoman literally licks Batman across the mouth]  *barely audible* Whyyyyy.....

“Let’s consummate this fiendish union.”  Nooooooo....

Now that I think about it, this movie is basically 70% one-liners and sexual innuendos

Oh, now the Batmobile detects a foreign object?

There’s a poster in the crowd that says “Oswald Means Order”

“Security?  Who let Vicki Vale into the Batcave?”  He’s [Bruce] got a point there, Alfred.

[Frequency Jammed]  Is it raspberry?

When the heck did Batman record Oswald during the Batmobile takeover?

OK guys, who brought the lettuce?  Is there always a random farmer’s market who always hangs out at important speeches for that reason only?

“Why is there always someone who brings eggs and tomatoes to a speech?!?”  Exactly!

“Did you miss me?”  Andrew Scott said it better.

“I am not a human being!  I am an animal!”  Why you gotta try and reference “The Elephant Man” like that?

Did I just hear the opening notes for “Can’t Touch This” by MC Hammer?

I like the dude in the background that has the the Leaning Tower of Pisa as part of his mask

Mask of the Red Death in the background!  And on a staircase nonetheless!

*sings* WHY SO SILENT, GOOD MONSIEURS....

I want Selina’s dress.  I don’t care that it’s probably gonna show off my scoliosis but that’s a super nice dress.

Batman even has his own customized stationary?

“Many of you won’t be coming back.”  Some of you may die, but it’s a sacrifice... I am willing to make!

*jams out to the Batman theme once again*

Fun fact:  they used actual penguins for this scene when they’re running around with firecrackers on their backs.  But not actual firecrackers because hello, what’s wrong with you?

“Estimated casualties 100,000 people.”  I think the most we’ve ever seen in this movie concerning the townspeople is like 50 or something.

Random question:  how come we never see Penguin actually swim?

*The duck boat thing drives up the stairs*  Would that even be possible?

Oh, so Batman comes out of the crash totally fine?  Dude, your cowl is freaking rubber!

*Penguins sets off the firecrackers attached to the penguins*  WHY?!?!?  YOU KNEW THAT THEY WERE STANDING LIKE TWENTY FEET AWAY FROM YOU!

*The Arctic World sign collapses*  No, not the polar bear!

*Bruce tears off the main part of his cowl* 

So how does the whole actual nine lives left?  Selina got shot in the shoulder and side, so those aren’t kill shots.  So technically, she still has four lives left instead of two.

*Bruce finds Shreck’s electrocuted corpse*  Wow, “Mars Attacks” looks horrible, you guys.

I’m pretty sure Oswald’s just spitting up green goo or something because that’s definitely not blood.

“I need a cold drink of ice water.”  Those are terrible dying words

Netflix just captioned the mourning penguin noises as “Awk Awk”

Aaawww the cat!

Why do you have the front passenger window open, Alfred?  Bruce is gonna be freezing sitting in the back.

*Catwoman looks up toward the Batsignal*  There ya go

#batman returns #the blogger reacts #Michael Keaton #batman #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #catwoman #selina kyle #michelle pfeiffer #christopher walken #Tim Burton #oswald copplepot #the penguin #Danny Devito #Stan Winston #Doug Jones

[theopentable]

Talking to kids about the way our feelings and actions play out

Our oldest child Jobe started school last week - a big deal for the whole family! For Jobe obviously - a big school full of kids and adults he hardly knows, long days five days a week, having to clean up his own chaos (his biggest surprise after the first couple of days), a bunch of new routines, homework, and all of it outside of his familiarity, away from the “nest” so to speak. It’s as big a deal for Pearl (2 and a half) probably; her comrade is somewhere else. One of the most precious things about Jobe’s first day was the joyous reunion of the siblings when we picked him up.

I can’t get anywhere near as much information as I’d like out of Jobe about the content of his days but he seems to be settling in fine. He likes school. He is super-wiped when he gets home. Heck, we’re tired from all the newness and we have a bit of an idea about things. Tiredness in our household pretty much translates into hair-brained, frantic behaviour. Difficulty listening. And frustration for everyone. Even though Jobe doesn’t seem like he cares when I start to get frustrated (usually for niggling his sister consistently until she loses it) later he might say something like, “I’m not very kind. I’m not very loving.” He’s entirely sensitive to our frustration and interprets this as a broader reflection on who he is as a kid.

Jobe’s school motto is “In omnibus caritas” which means in all things love. Jobe loves this. He thinks of the logo on his top as a heart and you can often catch him placing his hand on his heart logo. We tell him he goes to love school and that they teach him how to love there. I think this is true enough in a contemplative sense. All of life is a love school. Every day we’re learning how to love. Usually through encountering difficult things. Some of the language we use with Jobe when he’s getting frantic is to talk about his centre. If you ask Jobe what is in his centre he’ll talk about love, calmness, courage, kindness, goodness, helpfulness, and God. And so when, for example, he annoys his sister, we might say something like, “Jobe, you look as if you might be losing your centre. How can you get back to your centre?” We’re trying to affirm his inherent goodness while acknowledging that sometimes we need to do some things that help us to get back to our centre.

Another way we’ve starting to talk about what’s going on inside of us is to simplify Paul Glbert’s understanding of our affect regulation systems. This helps explain why we have hard-to-have feelings, how they’re helpful and unhelpful and how we can “get back to our centre.”

We’ve started to talk about how we have a worry system inside of us that sometimes makes us feel angry or scared or even disgusted. It’s what happens when we think we’re in some kind of trouble, like someone or something wants to hurt us or be mean to us. Everything speeds up inside us. We might use fighting faces, bodies and words. Or we might want to hide, or run away. Sometimes we just hide within ourselves and it might look like nothing is going on at all.

We also have an excitement system that kicks in when we want something quite a bit. It’s what fires up when we go to Big W to buy school shoes but we desperately want to run to the toy section. It’s what happens when we play games and we want to win and have our turn forever. It’s what is going crazy when we tear open our Christmas presents. And because we can’t always get what we want it often runs at the same time as and interacts with the worry system and turns quickly to anger, disappointment or sadness.

Neither the worry system or the excitement system is bad. They both do important jobs. They keep us safe and they help us to seek out good things. However, when they’re going berserk they stop our other really important system from working well - our calm and kind system. That one can’t work at the same as the other two when they’re really motoring. This is the system that knows how to slow down and relax, to enjoy what we have, and to be kind with others. You could also call it the cooperation system. This is really what we mean when we talk to our kids about their centre. This is where our calm, peaceful and compassionate feelings come from. When our calm and kind system is operating we think slower and make better decisions. We’re open, flexible and happy to have a go at things.

To get this system going we have to have some kind of awareness of when the other systems are calling the shots. When we’re little we’re still learning about what’s going on inside us. We’re still learning our own face and body stories. We’re learning how to pay attention to other people’s face and body stories. That’s why they need adults who can read the signs, ideally well before the explosions happen.

When our worry and excitement systems are going gangbusters we need kindness and connection to help bring our calm and kind system back online (yelling and angry faces make the worry system wilder and wilder). Dan Siegel talks about how we need to connect to redirect - connecting emotionally, right-brain to right-brain first (getting below eye level, empathetic non-verbal presence and touch, listening to and describing the emotions that are fuelling the behaviour) before we can get to the left-brain lessons and discipline.

Siegel also talks about the process where we name it to tame it (telling a story of what happened using the left-brain’s capacity for words and reasoning to make sense of their experience to help them to feel more in control. When this happens we calm and soothe the emotional storms that live in our bodies). In other words, we offer an attuned presence and that then allows us, when the calm and kind system has started to kick in, to use language. We integrate the left and right brain to bring our “up-stairs brain” back in line.

In our house we have a thinking chair. Maybe we should call it the calming chair or the centring chair because thinking is really just the fruit of returning to our centre. When we ask one of the kids to sit with us on the chair it’s because we’re starting to see those signs that are leading to a blow up. They sit on our lap. We have a bit of a cuddle. We might do some breathing together. When we’re ready we can talk about some of the things we’re noticing and what we need to think about before we can keep playing. We carry this chair everywhere we go in case things blow up (just joking. You don’t need an actual chair to do any of this.)

This basic process is how we learn, in time, to self-regulate. The adults in our world help us to do this. Over time we can learn how to find our calm without other people needing to help us as much but it is still true that for all our days loving presence and kindness are the things that sustain us and soothe us. We affect each other’s physiology. We are interconnected creatures built to thrive on kindness and affection. That’s what helps us to find our centre.

(Click on any of the bolded bits throughout if you want to follow a link to learn a bit more).

#Paul Gilbert #Dan Siegel #Emotions #Human Condition #Children

[libertariantaoist]

We’re all supposed to be outraged by alleged Russian “meddling” in the 2016  election, despite the fact that no  actual evidence of such interference has been made public. First it was  “17 intelligence agencies” supposedly confirmed that Moscow was behind the DNC/Podesta  email releases, and then it was down  to just three – with the National Security Agency modifying its judgment  to “moderate confidence.” But the media continued to make this claim, as did  the Democrats (or do I repeat myself?), and the conspiracy theorizing plowed  ahead. Yet the real meddling by foreigners in American politics has been ignored  because it doesn’t identify the right targets.

To begin with, there’s the anti-Trump “dossier”  that contained salacious details about Donald Trump, a document obtained  by Sen. John McCain, delivered to the FBI, and eventually winding up as  the subject of a White House “briefing.” This was compiled by one Christopher  Steele, a “former” MI6 agent, and commissioned by the opposition research  firm known as “Fusion GPS,” with the bill being paid by mysterious “donors.”  Steele showed the dossier to a “British  security official” before sending it off to McCain, and you can bet that  the British intelligence organization knew everything about this dossier, and  thoroughly approved, or else it wouldn’t have been put together and shopped  around Washington in the first place.

This dossier was the seed from which the “Russia-gate” investigation sprouted  – oh, but that kind of foreign meddling is fine with our media and our political  class, because it didn’t originate with an “adversary,” i.e. Russia. And speaking  of “collusion,” the interplay  between the Clinton campaign and the Ukrainian government to discredit Trump  advisor Paul Manafort is also fine and dandy, because – again – the Ukrainians  are the Good Guys, as opposed to those dastardly Russkies.

Yet this is just the beginning of the story of how foreign governments have  acted to intervene in our politics and undermine the Trump administration.

I was interested to read a  piece by Glenn Greenwald in The Intercept about the latest incarnation  of the developing liberal-neoconservative merger, detailing the founding of  a new group that calls itself the “Alliance to Secure Democracy.” This hybrid  creature is a two-headed monster, with Clinton foreign policy honcho Laura Rosenberger,  who served as a key figure in the Obama administration, and Jamie Fly, the neocons’  neocon, formerly with the now defunct Foreign Policy Initiative (the reincarnation  of the infamous Project for a New American Century), at the helm.

My readers will not be surprised by the union of neoconservatives and liberal  internationalists, which has been documented in this space continuously not  only during the recent presidential campaign but also predicted  as far back as 1999 (!). So no breaking news there.

While left-leaning commentators like Greenwald are understandably upset that  the Democratic party, and its ostensibly “liberal” wing, are canoodling with  the neocons, and people like Paul Begala are ranting about how we should “bomb the  KGB,” us libertarians – and also students of history – realize that this  coming together merely replicates the history of the last cold war. Just Google  “cold war liberalism,” Glenn.

While reading Glenn’s piece, I noted a link to the Alliance to Secure Democracy’s  web site, and later went back  to click on it – and right there on the front page, in the upper left corner,  are the initials “GMF.” These also appear under the Alliance’s logo. What the  heck is this?, I wondered. I clicked – and wound up on the site of the German  Marshall Fund of the US: indeed, the Marshall Fund site hosts the Alliance site.  The headline reads: “’Alliance  for Securing Democracy’ Launches at GMF.”

Don’t be misled by the “of the US” appellation: the German Marshall Fund is  an instrument of the German government, which has subsidized  it to the tune of several million dollars since its founding. It has offices  in eight countries, including the US. And it’s not just the Germans who are  involved. Aside from the German Foreign Office, the donors include:

 Sweden’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs ($500,000-999,000)

 Japan’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs ($250,000-499,999)

 Norway’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs ($250, 499,999)

 Compagnia di San Paolo, a quasi-governmental association of Italian banking    interests ($1,000,000-1,999,999)

 The government of Montenegro ($100,000-249,999)

 Belgium’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs ($100,000-249,999)

 The Brussels Capital Region (the municipality of Brussels) ($100,000-249,999)

 Latvia’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs ($100,000-249,999)

 Romania’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs ($100,000-249,999)

 United Kingdom Foreign and Commonwealth Office ($100,000-249,999)

 Lithuania’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs ($50,000-99,999)

 Taipei Economic and Cultural Representative Office ($25,000-49,999)

 France’s Ministry of Defense ($10,000-24,9999)

And last, but hardly least, the US government contributes between $1  million and $2 million via the Department of Housing and Urban Development.  Oh, and there’s one donor listed as “Anonymous,” whose contribution is “$2 million  and beyond.” In addition, among the listed donors there are a number of foreign  foundations and trade associations with links, including financial links, to  their respective governments.

The agenda of the Alliance is clear to anyone with eyes to see: when you go  to their web site, the first thing you see under “Our Mission” is:

“Finding out what happened in the United  States in 2016 and the impact it had is important. But that is not enough.”

Of course it isn’t: the goal is to get Trump out of the White House, and, in  the process, conduct a witch-hunt on American soil that will root out “Russian  influence,” i.e. anyone who opposes the new cold war,

A puff  piece by Josh Rogin in the Washington Post fails to mention the foreign  funding issue, but does give us a clear indication of what the group’s real  goals are: “mapping” alleged Russian infiltration of the US. Trump, of course,  is at the center of that “map.” Rogin cites former top CIA official Mike Morell  – who endorsed Mrs. Clinton and called  Trump Putin’s “useful fool” – as saying:

“In a perfect world, we would have a national commission that would be looking  into exactly what happened, exactly what did the Russians do and what can we  do as a nation to defend ourselves going forward and deter Putin from ever doing  this again. We all know this is not going to happen, so things like the GMF  effort are hugely important to fill the gap.”

The Trump administration is hardly going to be setting up a “national commission”  to overthrow itself, so foreign governments will “fill the gap.” In short, “The  Resistance,” as the anti-Trump fanatics like to call themselves, is getting  help from abroad, as well as from our own Deep State.

What’s so astonishing is how brazen the whole thing is: the German Marshall  Fund isn’t hiding its relationship with the “Alliance,” which will be headquartered  in the Fund’s Washington digs. It says right there on the Alliance web site  who is footing the bill. The scale of this kind of foreign meddling in American  politics makes the Russians – who run two little-trafficked web sites, RT and  Sputnik – look like a joke, which in large part they are.

The very name of the Alliance to Secure Democracy speaks volumes– on whose  behalf is our democracy being “secured”? We aren’t told – but a look at the  long list of foreign funders tells the whole story. Our parasitic “allies,”  who operate generous welfare states while we pay for their defense and risk  war on their behalf, have every interest in “securing” a foreign policy that  puts them first and America last. Their agenda isn’t hard to discern: one can  go on the Alliance web site and listen  to Ms. Rosenberger accuse the President of the United States of “dereliction  of duty,” while comparing him unfavorably to Angela Merkel.

Although much of Trump’s “America First” foreign policy agenda – NATO is “obsolete,”  foreign wars are a drain we can’t afford, etc. – has fallen by the wayside,  the mere expression of such sentiments is enough to enrage the internationalists.  That such a man is occupying the White House is an affront to them: they cannot  let it stand. Their campaign to cleanse the American political landscape of  such sentiments is the most comprehensive – and well-funded – effort by foreign  entities on American soil to date.

The “Alliance” is a regime change operation funded by foreign governments and  corporate interests: its American servitors, such as Ms. Rosenberger and Mr.  Fly, are seemingly exempt from having to register as foreign agents. Their immunity  to the laws that govern the rest of us is a mystery, especially when one remembers  that the current President of the United States pledged to neutralize the efforts  of foreign lobbyists and start putting America first.

These fifth columnists have to be held to account: they’re foreign agents,  pure and simple, and should be treated as such. Why are they exempt from the  Foreign Agents Registration Act?

Yet registering them, and labeling them for what they are, isn’t enough. It’s  long past time to get them out of our politics, and out of our country. This  kind of brazen foreign meddling should be illegal. Foreign contributions to  political campaigns are currently against the law: extending this principle  to the post-election scene is the logical next step, and one that needs to be  taken immediately.

#justin raimondo #antiwar.com

[nemothesurvivor]

The Wedding of Fareeha Amari and Doctor Angela Ziegler

Pharmercy Appreciation Week Day 6: Wedding. @pharmercyappreciationweek

A/N about translations: Because I can't speak German or Egyptian Arabic, expect some wonky translations. On the Subject of Egyptian Arabic, the translation to English was, well, let's just say, off. As in, I have no idea what the heck is going on there. So I put the approximate English pronunciation, followed by the actual way to write the words. See the end A/N for actual translations.

"I promised you a special stream today, and I am here to deliver!" Hana exclaimed, talking into her phone. "Are you prepared to get up close and personal with Overwatch? Of course you are. And today, you get to attend a wedding." She turned the phone to face Fareeha standing next to her. "And here's the lucky bride-to-be. Well, one of them anyway." Fareeha looked at the mirror, observing Hana as she broadcast a behind-the-scenes view of the wedding. Hana wore a three-piece suit with a pink tie, her bunny logo emblazoned in the center. "Hopsotch23 wants to know who the lucky lady is. Care to say who, or do you want to keep it a surprise?"

As Fareeha turned her head, Satya pushed it back into place. "Don't move," Satya ordered as she continued to perfect Fareeha's hair. Satya was also wearing a three-piece suit, though her tie was blue and her jacket was currently hanging next to the door, next to Fareeha's dry cleaning bag.

"They know who it is," Fareeha said.

Hana waited a moment before nodding. "Yes they do. PharahIsBae wants to know if you really want to do this."

Fareeha cocked her eyebrow. "What was that name again?" she asked.

"Just answer the question," Hana said with a smile. "For your fans."

Fareeha started to nod, Satya quickly holding her head still. "I've never been more sure of anything."

Angela sat on a bench in the ballroom, across from Genji and Zenyatta, both of whom were wearing two piece suits. "That is a lovely dress, Doctor," Zenyatta said. The dress being discussed was a high top, floor length white dress with 3/4 sleeves.

"Thank you," Angela said, looking at her dress for the thousandth time today. "Hana put me in touch with a seamstress in South Korea who made her professional outfits. She made it just how I wanted."

"It's your weddin'," Jess said, walking between Angela and Zenyatta. "No sense in settlin' for less." Angela glared at Jesse. "Sumthin' wrong, Angel?" he asked. Angela pointed at Jesse's cowboy hat. "I'll take it off for the ceremony," he said. "Promise."

"Why are you even wearing that hat in a suit?" Angel asked, shaking her head.

Jesse sat down in the front row, stretching his arms out as far as he could. "I always have my hat," Jesse said with a grin. "'Sides, with everyone around here in suits 'cept you, it helps me feel special."

"For a man with a bounty on his head, I would imagine you would want to blend in," Genji said. "Though I have to wonder. Dr. Ziegler, why did you ask everyone to wear suits?" He leaned back and gestured to his clothing for emphasis.

Angela stood before twirling. "I've always dreamed of a wedding where everyone wore suits, except for me," she said. "Now only if Jesse would take off the hat."

Jesse smirked. "I think Fareeha wouldn't mind me wearin' it."

Bastion beeped in surprise as Emily barged the room. "C'mon loves!" she exclaimed. "Don't want to be late for your own wedding, do ya?"

"What?" Fareeha asked, trying to stand.

"Sit!" Satya ordered, slamming Fareeha back into the chair, then holding her down as she squirmed. "We are not going to be late." Fareeha stopped squirming, but didn't relax. Satya then turned her head to face Emily. "I have perfectly timed how long each preparation will take," she said. "We are still on schedule."

"But the wedding starts less than an hour," Emily said, pointing at her watch.

"Does it?" Hana asked, pointing to a clock on the wall.

Emily glanced between her watch and the clock on the wall. "But how did–" She interrupted her thought with a sigh. "Bloody hell Lena. That's the last time I let you borrow my watch. Sorry."

"It is fine," Satya said. Fareeha relaxed with a sigh, letting Satya look over her hair one last time. "I am finished with your hair. Hana, let us give Fareeha privacy to get dressed." Satya put on her suit jacket. "I will help you with your makeup when you are ready," she said to Fareeha before walking out the door.

"Do you want me to leave my phone here?" Hana asked. Fareeha shot Hana an emotionless stare. "That's what I thought. We'll be back in a moment with the lovely bride-to-be, but in the meantime, I'll field your questions." Hana stared intently at her phone as she and Emily walked out the door.

Fareeha was left with Bastion in the dressing room. She locked the door before pulling her dry cleaning off the hook. "Nobody comes in until I say, got that?" she asked the omnic.

Bastion beeped a confirmation as Ganymede chirped.

Lena walked into the room before plopping down next to Jesse. "What's wrong, sugarplum?" McCree asked. "It won't do t'be mopin' at a weddin'."

"I just got off the phone with Emily, and she is not happy with me," Lena said. "I borrowed her watch the other day, and all my blinking made it fast. Made her think they were running late for the wedding."

"Relax," Jesse said, patting Lena on the back. "Mistakes happen. And with Satya there, I doubt they would let time slip away." Realizing what he said–and who he said it to–he quickly added, "Uh, no offence."

"None taken," Lena said. "So, Angie, did Jesse tell you that he said it would be okay if Fareeha wore her Raptora suit to the wedding?"

Jesse watched a cheeky grin erupted on Lena's face. "You did take offence, you–" Jesse stopped mid-sentence, feeling eyes burning into the back of his skull. He slowly turned around, seeing Angela glare at him worse than when she saw his hat. "Uh, she didn't believe me," Jesse said quickly. "You know she wouldn't do that, right?" Angela continued to stare down Jesse.

"I assume it's your fault my daughter-in-law has a frown on her face," Ana said, walking down the aisle. Jesse ducked his head, hiding his face. "It's supposed to be a happy day for both of my daughters, understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jesse said. Ana held out her hand and made a simple gesture with her fingers. After briefly hesitating, Jesse handed over his hat. Ana put it on her head, tipped it at Angela, then walked off towards the entrance. Jesse watched as Ana put his hat on a hat rack before sitting down next to Reinhardt and Torbjörn. "This is cruel and unusual punishment," Jesse muttered.

"Is it as cruel or unusual as being murdered by your own brother?" Genji asked. Lena simply cleared her throat.

Angela smiled as Jesse started to backpedal. "I do wonder what Fareehali is going to wear," she wondered aloud, thinking about what Lena said. "She wanted it to be a surprise."

"Shotgun!" Hana yelled, running to the limousine waiting outside. "Wait, I need Fareeha to be on camera. Nevermind."

"It's a limo," Fareeha said. "I don’t think we're supposed to sit up front."

"Touché," Hana said.

Emily stepped past the two and opened the door. "Your chariot awaits, milady."

"Why, thank you," Fareeha said, stepping inside. Hana, Satya, and Emily followed after, with Ganymede flying in before the door shut. Bastion parked itself on a small trailer attached to the back of the limo. As the limo drove away, Emily started messaging Lena.

"So, Fareeha," Hana said, training her phone on the woman as Ganymede settled on Hana's head and toyed with her hair, "chat wants to know how you proposed to Angela."

"I suspect it was over dinner," Satya said, interrupting Fareeha. "Such a serious question requires a formal setting."

"Nah," Emily said, looking up from her phone. "I bet you went on an adventure together, and you proposed in the most picturesque of places, like on top of a mountain."

"How about we get an actual answer," Hana asked, looking between Satya and Emily, "instead of speculating one?"

Satya and Emily nodded, and all eyes turned to Fareeha. "Well, Angela and I went out on a walk around Switzerland," Fareeha said. "We stopped by the old Swiss base and paid our respects, then we visited the hospital Angela worked at before joining Overwatch. We spent the rest of the day sightseeing, and on the way back to the hotel, we stopped by a pier to watch the sunset. There, Angela asked me to marry her, and I said yes."

Everyone stared at Fareeha, dumbfounded. "Angela asked you?" Emily said at last.

"She was always better at managing the relationship," Fareeha said. "She figured out that it was the right time to ask."

"I never took you to be a passive woman," Satya said.

Fareeha crossed her arms across her chest. "Just because I am a soldier does not mean I have to be in complete control of my relationship. It takes two people to be a couple, after all."

"That," Hana said, looking at Fareeha over her phone, "makes sense actually. Dad_76 wants to know if there's going to be an after party."

"Dad 76?" Satya asked. "Is that Soldier?"

"No," Hana said, shaking her head. "That's one of the viewers. Everyone has at least a dozen fan accounts. Even Ganymede here has one." The bird chirped at the name.

"There's going to be," Fareeha said, answering the question. "Angela wants a proper wedding reception, so she's getting one. You helped set it up, remember?"

"Yeah, well the viewers don't know this," Hana said. "Since you're the star today–one of them, at least–I figured you should be the one to tell them."

"Excuse me," the driver said, using the intercom in the limo, "we will be arriving shortly."

Emily started bouncing in her seat. "Oh, I'm so excited for you!" she exclaimed. "How're you feeling, love?"

Fareeha shifted. "Nervous, actually," she said.

"No time to be nervous!" Hana exclaimed. "You've got to sweep the love of your life off her feet!"

Fareeha sat up straight and nodded, beaming.

Lena's phone buzzed. She picked it up, her face immediately turning into a giant smile. "They're pulling up right now!" she yelled.

Ana immediately ran out the door, while everyone in the chapel rushed to their seats. Zenyatta floated from his seat next to Genji to the altar, where he hovered behind a podium. Angela followed before standing in front of the podium, smoothing her dress as she did. Hana entered the room, speed walking to her seat. Emily entered shortly after, sitting down at the organ in the corner. She warmed up by playing a couple of scales, then gave a thumbs up towards Ana, who poked her head into the door. Ana nodded, then shut the doors.

Angela stood, hands folded together as she looked at the doors. Emily started playing the organ, filling the room with the Bridal Chorus. Angela smiled as the iconic music signaled for the doors to open. Satya opened the doors, carrying the bouquet down the aisle. Bastion was next, though the robot simply entered the room before stopping next to the doors. Finally, Fareeha and Ana entered.

Fareeha wore a royal blue dress, with cap sleeves and a bateau neckline, and a golden necklace and bracelets. She walked in perfect step with her mother down the aisle, a happy smile on her face. Angela, dumbstruck by Fareeha's beauty, latched onto the smile, returning it as she tried to regain her senses. Ana and Fareeha separated as the pair approached the altar, the former sitting in the front row and the latter stepping in front of the podium. "You look lovely," Angela said, holding out her hands.

"El helou bi shoof el helou (الحلو بشوف الحلو)," Fareeha said, taking Angela's hands.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Zenyatta said, raising his arms to each of the brides, "we are gathered here, not to witness the beginning of what will be, but rather what already is! We do not create this marriage, because we cannot. We can and do, however, celebrate with Fareeha Amari and Dr. Angela Ziegler the wondrous and joyful occurrence that has already taken place in their lives, and the commitment they make today.

"Fareeha and Angela, remember to treat yourselves and each other with respect, and remind yourselves often of what brought you together. Take responsibility for making the other feel safe, and give the highest priority to the tenderness, gentleness and kindness that your connection deserves. When frustration, difficulty and fear assail your relationship, as they threaten all relationships at some time or another, remember to focus on what is right between you, not just the part that seems wrong. In this way, you can survive the times when clouds drift across the face of the sun in your lives, remembering that, just because you may lose sight of it for a moment, does not mean the sun has gone away. And, if each of you takes responsibility for the quality of your life together, it will be marked by abundance and delight."

Zenyatta nodded towards Fareeha. Fareeha, acknowledging the gesture, looked Angela in the eyes and said, "Angela, I have never cared for anyone else as much as I care for you. You are the engine that powers me, the armor that protects me, and the fuel that boosts me ever higher. Without you, I am nothing, and for that reason, I promise to protect you and the world you live in."

Fareeha glanced at Zenyatta after a second of silence. Zenyatta, understanding, faced Angela and nodded towards her. Angela returned Fareeha's stare and said, "Fareehali, I cherish every moment with you. You are the wind beneath my wings and the fiery passion in my heart. My käferchen, I could not imagine a life without you, and I would risk the world if it meant you coming home." A single tear escaped from Angela. As she went to wipe it away, Fareeha pushed Angela's hand down before gently wiping the tear away. "Fareehali, I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Angela and Fareeha looked at Zenyatta, ready to continue. The monk made a motion with his hand. Bastion stomped up the aisle, holding a small pillow with two rings on it. "Wedding rings are made precious by our wearing them. Your rings say that even in your uniqueness you have chosen to be bound together. Let these rings also be a sign that love has substance as well as soul, a present as well as a past, and that, despite its occasional sorrows, love is a circle of happiness, wonder, and delight. May these rings remind you always of the vows you have taken here today." The omnic stopped near Angela and Fareeha, and they both took a ring. Ganymede chirped as Bastion stomped off to stand by the doors.

Fareeha took Angela's left hand, slipped the ring onto her finger, and said, "I give you this ring, a symbol of my love, as I give to you all that I am, and accept from you, all that you are."

Angela looked at the ring on her finger, smiling with another tear threatening to break free. It did not get the chance, as Angela composed herself before putting a ring on Fareeha's finger and said, "I give you this ring, a symbol of my love, as I give to you all that I am, and accept from you, all that you are."

Zenyatta looked at both Fareeha and Angela. They nodded. Zenyatta continued with the ceremony. "We who have come together today have heard the willingness of Fareeha Amari and Dr. Angela Ziegler to be joined in marriage. They have come of their free will and in our presence, have declared their love and commitment to each other. They have given and received a ring as a symbol of their promises. Therefore, by the power vested in me by the Shamboli Monastery, I take great pride and pleasure as I declare them spouses for life.

"You may now kiss." Fareeha and Angela wrapped their arms around each other's necks before kissing. It was a short but passionate kiss, ending with the newlyweds touching foreheads with love in their eyes."Ladies and Gentlemen, for the first time, Mrs. Fareeha Amari-Ziegler And Doctor Angela Amari-Ziegler."

Everyone stood and erupted into applause. Fareeha and Angela, hand in hand started walking down the aisle, joining their gathered compatriots. Ana stopped the pair to hug them both, whispering in Arabic. Reinhardt and Torbjörn were next, each hugging the brides while saying congratulations. Emily asked the newlyweds to throw the bouquet at her, getting a half-shocked, half-happy look from Lena. Jesse hugged them both, making a joke about being Angela's adopted brother-in-law. Genji offered his kind words next, then he held Hana's phone while she did the same. Bastion beeped and Ganymede chirped as Fareeha and Angela passed by. Satya was last, and she simply congratulated the two as she opened the door and led them to the limousines outside. Everyone else followed close behind, already talking and joking about the newlyweds. Satya opening the door of the lead limo. Fareeha and Angela got in, alone, before the door shut.

Fareeha sighed, sinking into her seat. "I don't think I've ever been that nervous in my life," she said, fiddling with Angela's ring as she talked. Angela didn't respond. Fareeha looked over, seeing pure passion in Angela's eyes. Fareeha sat up straight, allowing Angela to sit on her lap and lay on her wife.

"Ich liebe dich, käferchen," Angela said softly, leaning close to Fareeha.

"Ana bhibak, yamaem (ٲنَا بَحِبِّك, حمامة)," Fareeha replied, just as soft. She wrapped her right arm around Angela's waist while interlocking her left hand with Angela's right. Fareeha pulled her wife closer, and for the rest of the limo ride, two people were one.

Fareeha stepped out of the limousine before helping Angela out. Satya grabbed both of their arms, pulling them together with their backs towards the entrance to the garden. "What's wrong?" Angela asked, worried.

Satya pulled out a small makeup kit from her jacket pocket. "You two had too much fun," she said simply. Fareeha blushed, shock plastered on her face. Angela blushed as well, though she simply smiled. Satya touched up their makeup before escorting them to the door.

"Any particular reason you did that?" Fareeha asked, blush now gone.

"It would have bothered me until it was perfect again," Satya said. She opened the doors to the Serenity Garden. Inside, at the center of the winding rows of plants and trees, a long table stretched from one end of the courtyard to the other. Most of the wedding guests were sitting at the table, chatting about nothing. Fareeha and Angela wound their way through the garden before taking their seats at the head of the table. Satya took the seat closest to Fareeha, tapping on a small tablet.

"What do you think?" Hana said, plopping down in the seat across from Satya.

"It's better than I could've imagined it," Angela said. "The limousines, the garden, and I imagine the food as well."

"Do you take me for a cheapskate?" Hana asked. "Of course the food is high quality. Had to settle for a bargain bin DJ, but I think you'll like him."

"When we gave you our wish list," Fareeha said, "I didn't expect you to actually get everything on it. This must have cost you a fortune."

"You only get one shot at the perfect wedding, right?" Hana asked. She blinked a couple of times, worry passing over her face. "Right?"

Angela giggled as Fareeha said, "I don't think we'll be needing another wedding."

Hana visibly relaxed, muttering in Korean. "I don't think another wedding like this is in the budget for a while," she said.

"Hana, really," Fareeha said, "you didn't have to do this."

"But I wanted to," Hana insisted. "It's not like I'm spending my massive fortune on anything important, like restorative efforts in South Korea." She waved her hand dismissively. "Besides, everyone pitched in. Some more than others." Hana made a point to glare at Jesse, who was sitting at the other end of the table. Jesse waved back.

"Truly, we appreciate it," Angela said. She made a heart with her hands at Hana, with Fareeha joining in shortly after. Hana, smiling, copied the gesture.

"Hello hello!" All eyes turned to the DJ booth in the back as Lúcio waved to the gathered patrons. "I heard there was a very special event today, and I just couldn't resist joining the party. Can we get a big hand for the newlyweds?" Compared to the civil clapping earlier, everyone started cheering and yelling as the clapped, with Reinhardt's booming laugh louder than anything else. As the clapping quieted down, Lúcio said, "I have been informed that our caterers will be along shortly to take your order. Now how about we get this party started?"

Just before midnight, Fareeha looked around as she danced in a slow circle with Angela to Queen's "One Year of Love." "I think the party's over," Fareeha said.

"Why's that?" Angela asked, head laying on Fareeha's shoulder.

"Reinhardt and Torbjörn are asleep on the table," Fareeha said, "Lena, Emily, and Satya left about an hour ago, Genji and Zenyatta just left, Hana and Lúcio are watching something on Hana's phone, and my mother is sipping tea with Jesse and Ganymede."

"Our mother," Angela mumbled.

"Our mother," Fareeha agreed. "We should call it a night."

"No," Angela said.

"No?" Fareeha asked.

"I don't want this night to end."

Fareeha smiled. "I know." After a moment of silence, Fareeha swept Angela off her feet and into a bridal carry.

"What are you doing?" Angela asked, head still on her wife's shoulder.

Fareeha did not respond, instead walking over to where Lúcio and Hana were sitting. "We're calling it a night," Fareeha said.

"No, we aren’t," Angela muttered.

Lúcio nodded as he and Hana stood. "Sounds good," Lúcio said.

"No, it doesn't," Angela complained.

Lúcio shook his head as he said, "Hana and I will take care of the cleanup. You and sleepyhead here can just head home and relax."

"I'm not tired," Angela mumbled.

"You haven't take your head off me for the past twenty minutes," Fareeha said, walking away from Lúcio and towards Ana and Jesse.

"And why should I?" Angela asked.

"You shouldn't." Ana smiled when she saw her daughter and daughter-in-law approaching. She put a finger to her lips as Jesse opened his mouth. Fareeha gestured towards the passed-out Reinhardt and Torbjörn, and Ana nodded. Ana gestured towards Jesse to follow her as she stood. Jesse followed close behind, tipping his hat at Fareeha and Angela as he passed them. Ganymede, no longer getting attention from Ana or Jesse, perched on Fareeha's free shoulder.

"Where's everyone going?" Angela mumbled.

"Home," Fareeha replied, walking towards the exit. "It's late." Ganymede chirped as she flew to Bastion, who was standing by the doors. It opened them when Fareeha gestured towards them with her head. "Say good night to Bastion."

"Good night," Angela said.

Bastion beeped a response, followed by chirping from Ganymede. "They say good night," Fareeha said, walking outside.

"I didn't know you speak bird," Angela said. "Can you teach me?" Fareeha didn't reply, unsure of how to answer. "Fareehali?" Angela finally pulled her head off of Fareeha's shoulder so she could look her wife in the eyes. "Can you teach me how to speak bird?"

Fareeha hesitated a moment before saying, "If that's what you want."

"I would like that," Angela said, laying her head back down. Fareeha walked to one of the two remaining limos and struggled to open the door. The driver jumped out and ran to the door, opening it for the newlyweds. Fareeha mouthed her thanks as she climbed inside and sat Angela in a seat. After being buckled in, Angela asked, "Fareehali?"

"Yes?" Fareeha asked, sitting next to Angela.

"Was today just a dream?"

Fareeha wrapped her arm around Angela, pulling her close. "What makes you think that?"

"It was too perfect." Angela put her head onto Fareeha's shoulder. "I hope it's not a dream."

"It wasn't."

"Good. Ich liebe dich, Fareehali."

"Ana bhibak (ٲنَا بَحِبِّك), Angela."

The limo started moving down the road. Fareeha rested her head on top of Angela's, listening to her breath. "Hey, Angela," Fareeha said, leaning forward slightly. Angela was asleep, unfazed by her name or Fareeha's movement. "It can wait," Fareeha mumbled, laying her head back onto Angela's. And a short time later, Fareeha too was asleep with her wife.

Sorry if your favorite OW character didn't show up. Everyone else is off saving the world in one way or another, so not everyone could take the day off to attend the wedding.

I probably screwed up the translations. Let me know if they are wrong and I will attempt to fix them. Also, if you can assist me in how to actually translate Egyptian Arabic to English, please help. I tried. Fareehali: Swiss-Germans add -li to the end of a person's name to show affection (even though Angela doesn’t speak Swiss-German, I liked the idea). El helou bi shoof el helou (الحلو بشوف الحلو): Beauty finds beauty (from this Tumblr post: http://karkatinq.tumblr.com/post/156889448096/headcanon-that-pharah-is-the-cheesiest-girlfriend)

Ich liebe dich: I love you

käferchen: little beetle ana bhibak (ٲنَا بَحِبِّك): I love you

yamaem (حمامة): dove

#pharmercy appreciation week #pharmercy #angela ziegler #fareeha amari

[chahchani]

Creme Puffs. A Hwiyoung Scenario.

You had a special and strict routine for lunch. 1. Get out from p.e class 2. Go back go the homeroom to get wallet 3. Go to the cafeteria to buy creme puffs or banana bread and milk. 4. Come back to the homeroom with friends and eat there. It was the same routine but this was your ritual and the best part of being at school. “Ten more minutes and I get to have to my banana bread. You mumbled to yourself as you stared at cloudy sky while the others were playing soccer on the field. “Or should I eat a creme puff today..”

“They’re both sweet and sugary piggy.” Hwiyoung sat down beside you on the bench and ruffled your hair, causing you to scowl from the sudden contact. “I told you to not touch my hair!” You yelled. “Why are you yelling?!” Hwiyoung laughed, yelling back with the same volume. “Ugh, go play soccer or something. All you can do is kick well anyways.” You rolled your eyes and smirked, teasing your classmate. You wouldn’t call him a friend since you didn’t hang out with him outside of school but you two can joke around and get along well whenever you saw each-other so you could say he was somewhat nice to be around although he could get on your nerve sometimes.

“Are you doubting my kickboxing skills?” Hwiyoung scoffed, suddenly getting up to practice his moves. “Tell me who you have a problem with, I’ll take care of it.” He winked, playing around with his leg as he kicked the air a few times to show off his skills.

“I have a problem with you.” You stuck out your tongue. “Can you please beat yourself up? Leave me be and let me think about my lunch in peace.” He smiled softly, sitting right back next to you. The breeze was at a medium, strong enough to push your hair softly to one side, a few strands falling in front of your eyes but you didn’t mind. He blinked a few times in between staring then turned his head to watch the clouds as well. “Why do you like banana bread and creme puffs so much? That’s all you ever eat.” You heard him ask. Without looking at him, you shrugged. “I don’t know. It was all I ever really ate as sweets when I grew up. My mom was the best as making them. But store bought ones are good too since she’s not here anymore.” He turned to look back at you. “I’m sorry…did she leave the family to be somewhere else?” You smiled, nodding your head. “Hmm..You can say that. She went somewhere very far but in a way also very close by.” “Where is that?” He asked. He followed your finger as you pointed to the sky you’ve been staring at the whole time. Speechless for a few seconds, he smiled and admired the sky with you. “Your mom must have made some really good creme puffs I bet!” He answered with a playful but sweet tone, ruffling your hair once more. “I told you not to touch my hair!!!” You screamed. —- Excited from getting finished changing out of your gym clothes and back to your uniform, you skipped your way to your homeroom. “Creme puffs~ Creme puffs~!” You sang, making some girls in the hallway who knew you to giggle. “Hurry! I think we might get them before you do!” One of them joked. “Better not!” You laughed as you saw them running towards the cafeteria. Picking up your pace, one of the girls outside your classroom door looked at you with a frown as she saw you coming. “What’s wrong Chaeyeon?” You touched her cheek, being close with her as you did with all the other students in your class. “Ugh. For some reason the cafeteria wasn’t selling any sweets today. I guess they didn’t stock up, and I had to buy one for the class president because you know how much she likes to bully me..what do I do.”

Your heart sank, hearing the fact that there weren’t any sweets being sold today but also hearing that Chaeyeon was still getting picked on. “She’s still bullying you?” You sighed. “What does she want, seriously. Do you want me to talk to her?” “No it’s fine. Just..can you give me one of your creme puffs so I can get her off my back for now? I’ll repay u back.” Chaeyeon looked at you with puppy dog eyes as she pulled on your sleeve softly. You stared back at her cluelessly. “What do you mean? I don’t have any. I just came from gym.”

“Yes you do. I saw them on your desk when i headed in earlier to search for you.” Chaeyeon nodded. Curious, you opened the classroom door and headed Inside, Chaeyeon following right behind you. Walking up to your desk, you had realized she was right.

On your desk were a fancy set of creme puffs, very high quality ones as well. You picked them up, to read the logo on the box. It was from the famous bakery you always wanted to go to, down by the neighborhood where you were living in- but never got a chance to because everything there were really pricey. It was a set of 12 creme puffs, a pretty big set indeed and the creme puffs were larger than the store bought ones. Your eyes roam back to your desk and spotted two glass bottles of milk as well, with the same bakery logo on it and a sticky-note stuck on top of the lid. You set down your creme puffs as Chaeyeon helped herself to get one, leaving you with a ‘Thank You!’ as she left, not really minding her since you were focused on the sticky-note which you had now picked up to read. ‘My dad made some this morning for sale and I thought since you liked them so much, it’d be better to have these instead of the ones from the cafeteria. He didn’t make any banana bread but if you want, I’ll tell him to make you some next time.’-Hwiyoung

You couldn’t help but to smile. “This loser…his dad owns the bakery. How cute…”

You then spot another sticky-note attached to your textbook. ‘By now you should have read the first sticky-note. If not, it’s on your milk lid, you can’t miss it! Anyways, don’t eat the creme puffs yet! Bring them and come to the rooftop during lunch! I’ll be waiting. Just bring one milk bottle, your clumsy ass will probably trip and spill all of your creme puffs if you tried to carry everything.“

You laughed at the message. Taking the box carefully in one hand and a bottle in the other, you started to make your way out of the classroom. Walking up the stairs to get to the rooftop, your heart started to pound. “Why am I so nervous?” You whispered to yourself. “What the heck, snap out of it y/n. Lets just see what the dork wants.” It was a whole new feeling, you weren’t sure if it was something new you had just developed or just a feeling of gratitude. Either way, you felt weird but decided to not let it get to you, it was just a box of creme puffs anyways- even though they did hold a special meaning.

Opening the door to the rooftop, you had realized the clouds cleared up a bit and the sun had peeked out to make the sky look a whole lot prettier, the breeze still smoothly dancing through your hair as you came foward to a standing Hwiyoung who was waiting with his back facing towards you.

Hearing the sound of the door close from behind you, he quickly turned around with one of his hands rubbing the back of his neck with a slightly shy smile plastered on his face. Finally arriving in front of him, you saw his free hand holding a milk bottle as well.

“Your not expecting me to share are you?” You playfully wiggle your eyebrows up and down. “Depends. Are you willing to share them?” He playfully furrowed his. “If you do, I can guarantee you there will be more where that’s coming from.” “Oho~ deal.” You chuckled, walking towards the rooftop bench and gently sitting down next to him. He lifted up the box and opened the creme puffs up for you, offering you one first. Taking one, you excitingly took a bite and the taste blew you away immediately. “Wow..your dad’s really talented! No wonder they are so expensive. This is so good, I mean really good!” You looked at him with bulged eyes, him looking back with a laugh as he bit into one himself.

“Thank you. Thank you. I’ll be sure to tell him that.” “But anyhow, how did you know the cafeteria ran out of creme puffs?” “Hmm? They ran out?” Hwiyoung tilted his head and laughed. “I didn’t know that.” You smirked. “So you just brought me these because you knew I liked them?” He then broke eye contact and hesitated to answer your question. Taking a sudden drink from his milk, he cleared his throat after a few awkward coughs. “Just..since I saw you eat them everyday. Good thing I brought them right? Or you would be a sulking piggy right now.” “You make it so hard to say thank you sometimes.” You stuck your tongue once more and took another bite. “But thank you.”

“However…don’t eat just sweets every lunch time. My dad also makes really good food. I’ll bring a proper lunchbox for you, so stop eating only sweets, got it?” He returned to making eye contact and switched to a serious face expression. You shrugged, focusing on milk as you jugged it down. Wiping your mouth with your sleeve, you nodded softly. “Sure.” He smiled bright and ruffled your hair once more, feeling glad that you didn’t reject his offer. You scowled again, but he didn’t retreat his hand this time. Feeling brave at the moment, he gulped and looked at you without breaking eye contact. “What?” You asked, a little taken back. “…..Let’s go watch a movie or something!uhh-Friday! I have two tickets and I don’t want them to go to waste..you should come!” He furrowed his eyebrows again, waiting for an answer.

Your heart started to beat like crazy once more. Looking away from him and down at the creme puffs, you let out a small smile. “……Cool.” “…so that’s a yes?” Shocked from the answer, he opened his mouth slightly. Trying to hide your smile, you nodded again. “Yeah. It’s a yes.”

At that moment, you didn’t know what this feeling was. All you knew was that you didn’t hate it.

#sf9 scenario #sf9 scenarios #sf9 reaction #sf9 reactions #sf9 imagine #sf9 imagines #hwiyoung