#@staff why are you determined to make me hate your website?

[claudiaeparvier]

So now tumblr is giving me the fake option of snoozing this tumblr live for a month?

[writings-of-a-daphodil]

Fire Keeper: Chapter 12

Douxie x fem reader

Chapter 1

Masterlist in bio!

Series Summary: You are Jim’s older sister who is taking a break from college and has moved back home to Arcadia. You end up joining Jim and his friends on their adventures.

Chapter 12 summary: Jim has stood his trial and you're devistated. On top of that Usurna is out to kill you. You're too weak to defend yourself, so you go to Douxie for help.

Warnings: Illness and Angst

The week had started out good. A few weeks ago you had gone on a picnic with your mom and Jim and you had had fun. Everyday after that you and Jim went out for brief walks so you could get some fresh air and talk, it was great to spend time together.

Then Monday rolled around and Jim had been convicted. You hadn’t seen him since and you were getting more and more sick. You couldn’t go to Trollmarket because you couldn’t get out of bed.

So, you had to wait for Claire or Toby to text you about what was going on. You hated not being able to do anything, you hated Kanjigar for giving you that awfull spell, and you hated that the spell had actually helped you. The spell had distracted the gumm-gumms and they hadn’t fought back, but it had given you your illness.

You checked your phone for the billionth time and saw a text from Claire: We are gonna prove Jim’s innocence, we found a changeling spy.

The text filled you with hope, but seconds later your hope deflated with Toby's text: The trial’s not going well, any chance you’ve been hiding a law degree somewhere?

You replied: I wish.

You continued to stare at your phone. It was dead silent in your room and you had given up on trying to do anything else. At first you had gone through website after website, watched video after video, and read book after trollish book on law, texting Toby notes. Apparently that hadn’t done much good.

You didn’t know what else to do other than worry.

Eventually your phone lit up with Toby calling you. “Please let these be good,” you begged, answering.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry. We lost the trial Jim’s been sentenced to exile in the Deep.”

“Not the Deep,” you mumbled, you had read about the deep and how no troll had ever come back. You faced your greatest fear down there. You didn’t know what Jim’s was, but you hoped he could overcome it.

“Y/n? Are you there?” Toby asked.

You felt a tear slip down your face. “I’m coming to Trollmarket.”

“Are you sure you’re up for that?” Toby asked. “No offense, but you haven’t been able to leave bed since Jim went on trial.”

“I’m coming,” you repeated. Your decision was made, so you carefully made your way downstairs, summoning your sword to use as support. You almost collapsed by the time you got to your car, but you made it.

One coughing fit later you were driving towards the bridge. It was a miracle you didn’t get into an accident. You used your Horngazel, and made your way down the stairs. It took you forever, and you hoped they would wait long enough for you to say goodbye to Jim.

You burst into the room and saw Toby and Claire with tear stained faces. Blinky and Aaarrrgghh were there as well, with somber expressions. The only person who wasn’t there was the one you wanted to see the most. They hadn’t waited for you.

“Y/n—” Blinky started with a pity etched on his face. You cut him off.

“No, those...they...no, no, no. This can’t be happening! They didn’t even let me say goodbye!” You barely noticed your feet leave the ground as you wailed.

“Y/n,” Claire said, putting her hand on your shoulder. You were about to push it away when your eyes cleared and you saw you were levitating everyone around you.

It was such a strong show of magic, when you realized what you were doing you collapsed immediately. Your friends yelped as they dropped to the ground. Thankfully they hadn’t been more than a few feet up in the air.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized as you struggled to push yourself into a sitting position.

“It’s fine, y/n/n,” Toby reassured. “They took Jim from us. You have every right to be angry.

You sniffed. “How did this happen? I thought you two found evidence?” You asked Claire and Blinky.

“We did, and we told Vendel, but he never showed up at the hearing,” Claire explained.

“Speaking of Vendel, I’m going to go find him,” Blinky announced.

You pushed yourself to your feet, determination giving you strength. “I’m coming too.”

Blinky helped you to the Heartstone and you arrived to silence, Vendel was nowhere to be seen.

“Vendel? Vendel where are you, you old goat?” Blinky called.

You froze when you saw a pile of rocks “Vendel!” Blinky screamed and you felt a new bout of tears come. He ran towards the pile, leaving you to stand on your own.

“Why?” You asked. This was not fair.

“No! Not you too,” Blinky mumbled and you fell to the floor in a sobbing heap. You were losing everybody. Vendel had been like a father figure to you just as Blinky had been one to Jim. It felt like all you had left in the world was your mom.

Oh! What were you going to tell your mom? She would have to know the truth even if it would break her. She deserved to know the truth and the two of you could heal together. At least you had each other.

You slowly got up from the floor. Having another coughing fit, you leaned on Vendel’s desk and saw a note with your name on it. You picked it up and began to read:

Ms. Lake,

I only write this as a last resort. I hope you never have to read this letter, but these are uncertain times.

I want you to know that you have been a fantastic student. Though you have much to learn until you get your staff, I want you to have the piece of the Heartstone inside the box on my desk. I wish you the best of luck in your life and I hope you grow to become a fantastic sorceress.

Best Wishes,

Vendel

Tears soaked the paper as you read it over and over again. Eventually you stopped and went over to the box. Opening it you saw a small piece of orange Heartstone, it was as big as your hand and you knew it would be the perfect gem for when you were ready.

You looked over to Blinky. Holding the stone close to your heart, you saw he was holding his own stone. You tilted your head at him and saw that it was an Anamnesis Stone.

“You crafty old goat,” Blinky whispered.

“I’ll call the others,” you said, your voice thick with sadness.

Soon after you hung up your phone, your friends arrived and you and Claire immediately hugged.

“First Jim, now this,” Toby said, wiping away a tear.

“Why did you leave us?” Blinky asked and his question broke your heart even more. “It was not your time.”

“Let’s use the stone, I don’t want to put it off any longer,” you announced, handing Blinky the player.

“What?” Toby asked.

Claire tilted her head. “What is it?”

“He was holding an Anamnesis stone,” Blinky explained excitedly. He put the stone in it’s player and a yellow sphere bloomed out of it.

You watched as a yellow outline of Vendel walked over to his desk. “What did you want to show us?” Blinky asked.

Suddenly Usurna appeared behind him. “There are only two agents of Gunmar, the changeling and the changeling’s master.”

Usurna held up a dagger. “How do you know this?” Vendel asked, turning around.

“Because I’m the master,” Userna grunted, stabbing Vendel. You watched in horror as he began to slowly turn to stone. It was a horrible thing to watch.

“Vendel!” Blinky exclaimed, grasping at air, unable to do anything.

You sobbed harder. “I’m sorry Vendel. I was hoping you’d live long enough to see Gunmar’s glorious return,” Userna apologized and you scowled through your tears.

Vendel groaned and fell to the floor. “Userna.”

“He used his last moments to warn us,” Blinky whispered, his voice filled with grief and gratitude.

You fell to the ground once again, but this time was different. Earlier it had just been you over exerting yourself, but this time you were beyond exhausted, emotionally and physically. You barely even had the energy to cover your mouth as you coughed.

You tried getting up again, but you couldn’t, you just fell again.

“Y/n, I believe you need to go home soon, but I fear for your life. Userna may be out to kill you as well,” Blinky said and you nodded, finally getting off the ground.

“I know a place,” you rasped. You were breathing heavily and Aaarrrgghh picked you up. “Just get me up the stairs and I’ll call someone for help.”

“Very well,” Blinky said. “Just be safe, I can't lose you, Master Jim, and Vendel all in one day.”

You nodded. “I’ll get some rest.”

“We’ll figure everything out,” Toby promised as Aaarrrgghh walked to the door.

“Stay safe guys,” you said with a cough.

Aaarrrgghh carried you up the stairs and as far out of Trollmarket as he could without getting burnt. “Thanks Aaarrrgghh, I can take it from here.”

“Y/n stay safe,” he replied and you nodded, holding in a cough.

Once he was gone you called Douxie.

“Hello darling,” Douxie said, making your face grow warm, well warmer than your fever was making it.

“I need somewhere safe to stay and you and I need to talk,” you coughed, urgency, exhaustion and grief filling your voice.

“I’ll be right there,” Douxie said. “Where are you?”

“I’m at the bridge, by my car. I can’t drive.”

“How did you drive to the canal? I thought you were sick. Are you okay?”

“I’ll explain everything later. Just come, please.”

~~~~

You were sitting on the ground, lying against your car when Douxie arrived. During the time you were waiting you had only begun to feel worse.

“Oh! Y/n, are you alright?” Douxie asked, helping you to your feet.

You coughed. “No, but I can explain later.”

“Alright,” Douxie said, and you handed him your keys. He helped you into the car and started driving.

“So...I didn’t get to hear the story before, but what happened? That girl who got me, Mindy, said that you had been looking for me.”

“Oh?” You took a drink of some water that you had in your car. Douxie seemed to sense that you weren’t ready to talk, so the rest of the ride was silent.

“Here.” Douxie offered you his hand after he parked the car. You took it gratefully and he helped you inside the bookstore. You fell into one of the chairs and made yourself comfortable.

“I’m all ears,” Douxie said, taking a seat across from you.

“I-It’s a long story and you probably already know a bit, but a couple months ago my brother Jim came across this amulet. The night he found it some trolls visited our home and I discovered I have m-magic. I-I began training with-with...an elder.” You began to sob. “Now he’s gone, murdered. I-I don’t know what to do. My brother’s gone too, they sent him to his death because he went into the Darklands a few weeks ago!”

“Oh, Y/n, it’s gonna be just fine,” Douxie consoled, patting your back.

Archie nuzzled you. “Yes, Y/n, Douxie is right.”

Your head snapped up when you heard his voice. “Archie?” You asked, looking at the cat. You hadn’t known he could talk even if you knew he was a framilier.

“He’s my framilier,” Douxie explained and you nodded, going back to crying.

“What do you need?” Douxie asked.

“I-I don’t know. I feel awful, I got sick the other night because I used dark magic to save Jim and I’m still sick and losing both my brother and my teacher on the same day hasn’t helped,” you cried, putting your face into your hands.

“Um...why don’t I get you some tea?” Douxie suggested. You felt him leave, but you continued sobbing while Archie sat by you.

Suddenly a crash snapped you back into reality. “Douxie?” Archie called and the two of you looked around the now dark book shop.

“What was that?” You wiped your eyes, trying to clear the tears away so you could see better.

“I’ll get the lights,” Archie offered and you slowly stood up. You almost collapsed back into the chair when your legs gave out, but you caught yourself on the table. You summoned your sword and once again used it as a cane.

You only took a few steps away from the table when you felt someone’s hand on your shoulder.

You screamed, twirling around you held your sword at the person’s throat. Your hand was shaking and you hoped whoever it was couldn’t see how weak you were.

“Calm down, Y/n. It’s just me,” the person said and you realized it was Douxie.

The lights flickered on and you immediately collapsed to the floor, unable to support yourself for any longer.

“Are you alright?” Douxie asked and you shook your head.

“Personally no, but we didn’t make the crash,” You explained as Archie settled into your lap. You began stroking him and it actually helped calm you down, at least a little bit. You still felt horrible, inside and out.

“Well, I didn’t make it either so something must be in here,” Douxie theorized.

You scooted closer to Douxie, holding your sword out as you heard footsteps come down the stairs. Only problem was you couldn’t actually see anybody walking.

Archie leapt out of your lap and into the air where he all of a sudden had wings and looked more dragon than cat.

“Huh,” you mumbled. You were surprised that Archie was a dragon, but reassured that he was on your side.

“Y/n, stay behind me,” Douxie said, stepping between you and the staircase. You were too tired to even bother protesting.

Douxie stood in front of you with Archie hovering by his side. The three of you stayed still, waiting for whatever had broken in to come down the stairs.  

It was dead silent in the store and you wondered why you couldn’t hear the footsteps coming down anymore.

You didn’t want to break the silence, but a coughing spell was calling you so you gave in. Your coughing turned into screams as you felt tiny claws grip your shoulder. You turned your head to look and saw a goblin.

“Waka Chaka,” it said and you flinched out of its grasp. Your fear gave you the energy to stand up and you swung your sword at the little beast, killing it. Douxie turned around to see the goblin mess on the rug and the goblins that were staring at it. You had just killed their leader.

They had probably been sent to kill you and now they had their own reasons to want you dead. This day was just getting better and better.

The goblins roared as Douxie’s wrist glowed blue and he began firing spells at them. You retreated behind the wizard, aware that you weren’t fit to battle it out with a ton of bloodthirsty goblins.

You felt horrible for not being able to do anything, but you tried your best to help. Three goblins ganged up on Archie and you managed to muster up enough energy to blast them off the framilier.

You didn’t have to help Douxie though, he was handling himself perfectly. You watched as he took down goblin after goblin, not tiring once.

Soon, the shop was covered in green and there wasn’t a goblin in sight. You fell to the floor, exhausted even though you had only killed a couple. Douxie and Archie were the real heroes of that battle.

Douxie helped you to your feet, putting your arm over his shoulder he helped you sit down again.

“I’m sorry for the mess, and the trouble,” you apologized, looking guiltily around the room.

“I’m just glad I could help,” Douxie said. “You stay here and I’ll get that tea.”

You watched as Douxie went up the stairs. “How long have you known?” Archie asked.

“Since I last came in with Enrique. I noticed that Douxie’s aura was intertwined with magic,” you explained, coughing. “How long have you known?”

“Since before, Douxie gave you that book a few months ago.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“We didn’t know if you were ready to talk about it yet,” Archie explained and you nodded. It was probably for the best that they waited til you found out.

You settled into a comfortable;e silence as you waited for Douxie, who was back in record time with the tea. “Here, it should make you feel better,” Douxie said, setting the cup in front of you. You took a drink and you immediately felt better. The sore throat and migraine you had had since you used the dark magic faded to the back of your mind, as did the other symptoms.

“Thank you, that is some tea.”

“It should help with your dark magic related illness,” Douxie informed and you smiled up at him. You noticed he was covered in scratches.

“Well, it only seems fit I should do something for you,” you said, taking his face into your hands you began to chant a healing spell. Your foreheads touched and you squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on the orange magic that was flowing from you to Douxie. After what felt like forever, you finally let go and fell back into your chair. Maybe using that much healing magic just as you were getting better wasn’t a good idea.

You took another, long, sip of tea.

Relaxing you looked back to Douxie and saw that he was blushing a bit. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

“Just, doing what I can to pay you back for saving my life,” you responded.

“Do you think you're well enough to finish your story?” Douxie asked and you nodded solemnly.

Tears slipped down your face as you began to recount everything that had happened since you discovered your magic. You described how you and your friends found the Killahead bridge and destroyed it and Bular. Then you told Douxie about how Strickler was a changeling who had sent Angor Rot after Jim.

Continuing on with your story you talked about how you had defeated Angor Rot losing Aaarrrgghh in the process. Then you told Archie and Douxie about how your brother had gone into the Darklands, alone, to rescue Enrique because he didn’t want anyone else to get hurt.

Fearful that if you slowed down your story you wouldn’t be able to finish it, you began to talk faster.

You described your trip to the Darklands to save Jim and how Kanjigar had given you the spell. Then you described everything else, bringing Douxie and Archie up to the present.

“That is quite the tale,” Douxie said, “I don’t know what I would do if I lost Merlin or Archie.”

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Wait Merlin is your master? I thought he was dead.”

“Nope, he’s just asleep,” Douxie explained, you laid your head on the table.

“I want to be asleep,” you mumbled.

~~~~

You didn’t know where you were, but it had a nice aura. You panicked for a bit then looked for other auras. Eventually you found Douxie’s and then everything came back to you.

You had gone to Douxie for help after your brother and Vendel had died. You felt your eyes well with tears. You took a few deep breaths to calm yourself down.

Sitting up you reached for your phone. The home screen was filled with notifications of missed calls and texts.

You unlocked your phone to read them, but you were interrupted by your phone ringing.

It was Jim.

You answered the phone, “Hello?”

“Y/n? It’s me, it’s Jim. I’m alive. Blinky and Aaarrrgghh said you left right before I got to the Heartstone yesterday. How are you feeling? Are you safe?” Jim asked, pushing out questions before you could answer them.

“Oh! I can’t even begin to explain how happy I am to hear you’re okay,” you cried. “I-I’m safe and I'm actually feeling much better.”

“Good,” Jim said, sounding relieved.

Now it was your turn to smother him with questions. “Are you okay? How’d you make it out of the Deep? What’s going on?”

“So to sum it up, I faced my fear and got out of the deep where I saw Usura and she said I killed Vendel. After I listened to her I went to find everyone. Blinky, Claire, and Toby were in the Heartstone and you and Aaarrrgghh had just left. After that we went to the Janus Order to find Gunmar and we battled Otto who was pretending to be Gunmar. When we found out he wasn’t Gunmar we realized Gunmar was now in Trollmarket and we would have to evacuate everyone,” Jim ranted.

“Do you need my help?” You immediately asked.

“Only if you are up for it.”

“I am.”

“Okay, I’ll text you a location. Steve and Eli are on their way to help the trolls get across a clearing.”

“I’ll be right there.” You hung up and smiled brightly at Douxie who was coming down the stairs. He was carrying a muffin and another cup of tea.

“Good news?” He asked, handing the food to you.

You nodded enthusiastically. “The best news. Why don’t I tell you about it over Coffee tomorrow?”

“It’s a da-plan,” Douxie said, smiling.

~~~~

It felt amazing to be out of the house again and the woods had so much fresh air. It was the perfect place for your first mission after your illness. The tea had healed you greatly, but the fresh air would help you even more.

You  pulled your car over and made your way to the clearing. Steve and Eli had already arrived with a bunch of yellow umbrellas.

“Hey,” you greeted and Steve turned to you.

“Who are you?” He asked, glaring.

“I’m Jim’s sister,” you stated, taking an umbrella.

“Oh, so you know all about the creepers?” The other kid asked and you recalled his name was Eli.

“Yep.”

“Cool,” Eli whispered and you smiled.

“So are you some kind of Trollhunter too?” Steve asked and you laughed at his hostile attitude.

“Actually no, I’m a sorceress,” you explained. The three of you chatted as the sun set and you managed to get all the trolls hidden in the woods. Afterwards you sat and talked while you waited for Jim.

Suddenly a bunch of trolls appeared in the clearing and you jumped up, immediately beginning to look for your brother.

You pushed past the crowd of trolls and you found him with Claire. Yo noticed she looked weak, almost how you had when you first used dark magic.

“Thanks guys I owe you,” Jim said as Steve and Eli pushed past you.

Steve smirked. “Yeah, Big time.”

“Maybe you can start by answering a few thousand questions,” Eli prompted.

Jim shook his head. “We’ll talk, later.”

“Yes!”—Eli exclaimed and he and Steve fist bumped.

You turned to Claire. “What happened?”

“We opened a portal,” She explained, coughing.

“What you did was over exert yourself. I’ll bring you some tea tomorrow. It should help.”

“Thank you, Y/n.”

“Of course Claire.” You gave an exhausted smile and then turned to Blinky.

Blinky sighed, devastated. “Our home is gone. Vendel is dead. Who will lead us now?”

“His Staff?” Blinky asked after Jim held it out to him.

“Your staff,” Jim corrected.

“Master Jim,” Blinky mumbled, shying away. He glanced around the clearing and all the trolls kneeled. When he looked at you, you nodded encouragingly.

Aaarrrgghh gently nudged Blinky. “Don’t make it weird.”

Blinky took the staff. “What now Blink?”Toby asked.

Blinky turned to face everyone. “We survived another day. But these forests are not secure. We will wait until midnight and seek safe haven. Gunmar will not give up. And he’ll have an army. But we will do our best to win this fight!”

Everyone cheered and you hugged Jim. Things were still bad and your grief was overwhelming, but you were hopeful for the future.

****

Voila, I hope you like it and I’m sorry for so much angst, but the next few chapters are going to be happy. I’m really excited to write the next two chapters and I have been for a really long time. Anyways, there will be a half chapter out tomorrow and I’m gonna try to post chapter 13 Friday! Have a great night/day and stay safe!

P.S. if you want to be on the taglist feel free to ask. I hope it works and please message me if it doesn’t.

[chris-evans-indian-fanfic]

A Joint Effort

One-Shot

Description: Sam and Bucky are hesitant and unhappy to fulfill the task at hand.

Warning: None

Queen @jtargaryen18 reached 4k followers! Congratulations Jamie 🎉🎈💃🏻🎊!! This one-shot is my entry for her 4K celebration writing challenge. Click here to participate!

My Main Masterlist

I don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but Tumblr and AO3, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.

…

"You are Captain America!" Bucky exclaimed. 

"And you are the Winter Soldier!" Sam retorted.

"I was the Winter Soldier! Am not anymore and you know that!" hissed Bucky. 

Sam raised his hands, "I did it last time. I am not going to do it again."

"Sam please," Bucky tried to plead with him, "Please don't make me do this. I was tortured by Hydra for decades."

"So? Dude you wrecked my car!" Sam argued aggressively.

"That was one time! ONE TIME!" Bucky raised a finger, "And my mind was being controlled." 

"Whatever man. You gotta do it," Sam pushed the tools towards Bucky.

He whimpered, "She won't talk to me if I do that to her! Remember last year, when it was your turn? She didn't even look at you for 3 months after that! What if my baby decides to hate me now?" wondered Bucky with a slight pout.

Sam folded his hands in resolution, "Then she will join the long list of people who detest you."

As Bucky kept on grumbling, Sam pushed a book towards him. "Look, I don't want to do this either, but we gotta do it for her. That's what the doctor said last time, remember? He said it's supposed to be an annual thing."

"But she hates it," Bucky tried to urge Sam, "She hates it when we do that to her. I mean just look at her right now, she's sleeping so peacefully."

Both the superheros walked towards the door and gazed into the next room, where a beautiful, graceful, furry feline was peacefully sleeping on the couch.

"How am I supposed to wake her up and give her a bath? Especially when it's torturous for her? Sam, that's inhuman," he feebly tried to argue.

Sam almost melted at the thought. Almost. 

Shaking his head, he squared his shoulders and said with determination, "You need to do this. We have to bathe her once every year. That's what the vet said. Now," he placed a book in Bucky's hand, "There are detailed instructions on how to give her a bath, complete with precautionary steps, guidelines and a blueprint of the tower in case she makes a run for it.'

Bucky squinted his eyes at him, "Your plan didn't work last time Sam."

"Of course it did!"

"Sam, the hospital staff thought you had been attacked by a wild animal," Bucky reminded him. 

Sam scoffed, "Not my fault you brought a cat from Wakanda! I mean, why didn't you just get one of your goats?"

"Gerald didn't want to come because Fiona was pregnant. And he had spent his entire life with Fiona and his parents at that farm, so I didn't want to separate him from his family," Bucky replied sincerely. 

Sam's eyes went as wide as teacup saucers. Slowly, he blinked twice and asked him, "Gerald?"

Bucky nodded, "The male goat, or buck, as they are usually called."

"... didn't want to leave Fiona?" Sam repeated slowly.

"Yeah, his wife, who is obviously a female goat, or a doe, as they are called," supplied Bucky as if it was obvious.

Sam still looked bewildered, so Bucky repeated, this time slowly, "Fiona was pregnant. And Gerald had-"

"No no. I heard you the first time," Sam interrupted him, "I was just having a hard time  processing all that information."

Bucky shrugged in response. Then an idea popped into his head, "I really miss Gerald these days. He was such a nice goat you know? All he ever-"

"Oh hell no! You are not going to emotionally blackmail me with your steel blue puppy eyes!" Sam exclaimed as Bucky gave up in defeat.

"Okay how about this? We do it together. I will lure her in with snacks, and lock the door. You prepare the tub and wash her while I hold her back and keep feeding her treats," suggested Bucky, "What do you think?"

Sam pondered for a moment, "Yeah okay. That could work."

Over the next hour, both the superheros bent over the book, outlining the new plan and jotting down the course of action.

Finally when they were ready, Bucky gently woke up Mrs Marshmallow. The white, soft and adorable feline opened her large eyes and yawned at him, looking a bit disgruntled to have been awoken from her sleep. But as soon as Bucky kept her favorite treats in front of her, she stretched and snacked on them.

Bucky kept placing treats on the ground in the form of a trail, so that Mrs Marshmallow followed him till they reached the entrance of the bathroom. He tentatively placed one last piece of treat inside the bathroom, and as soon as Mrs Marshmallow entered, Sam closed the door and locked it. 

Slowly chewing her food, Mrs Marshmallow looked up at the two of them, then took in her surroundings. 

"Meow?" 

"Sorry baby, but you need a bath," Bucky told her.

"Meeeow!"

"I know baby, but we have to give you a bath. I am truly sorry honey but we have no choice," Bucky tried to reason with her.

"Meeeeeow! Meeeow!! Meeeeoooww!"

"Okay miss that kind of language will not be tolerated in this house," Sam scolded her as he picked her up and placed her in the tub.

The nightmare that ensued in the next 2 hours will probably haunt Sam and Bucky for the rest of their lives. 

A drenched Bucky opened the bathroom door and out walked a disgusted, and freshly washed Mrs Marshmallow, her tail swishing in annoyance and mistrust as she headed for the door of the apartment.

Soaked with soap and water, Sam went ahead and opened it for her as Bucky followed the pair, limping on his way.

Thanks to the commotion caused in the bathroom, quite a small crowd of people had gathered outside their apartment at the Avengers/Stark Tower.

Fury screamed and jumped aside as Mrs Marshmallow left the apartment and went towards Wanda. "Awww what did they do to you kitten?" she cooed at the feline.

"Meooooow!"

Wanda gasped sarcastically, "Oh my God! Are you serious? We need to talk about this over catnip. C'mon," she led the cat towards her room, laughing all the way as Maria glared at Sam and Bucky.

"Are you kidding me?" Maria asked them, "Both of you are buff superheros. You fight terrorists, aliens and God knows what for a living! And you couldn't bathe a small cat?"

"Small cat?!" Fury looked at Maria with shock and fear, "Did you see the size of that monster?"

"Mrs Marshmallow is not a monster," both Sam and Bucky said in unison.

Maria rolled her eyes, "Just because one cat clawed out your eye that doesn't mean every cat is a monster."

"Wait…" muttered Bucky.

"WHAT?!" exclaimed Sam.

"Maria!" Fury said in a threatening tone.

She smirked and walked away, leaving the three men in uncomfortable silence.

"Sooooo-" Sam started to say, but Fury cut him off. "Not. A. Word. Am I clear?" Fury growled.

As soon as he left, both the men doubled down giggling, but immediately regretted it. 

"Oww!" 

"Ugh!" 

"Let's head towards the med bay," Bucky suggested, limping towards Sam.

Sam nodded, "What do you know about Fury's eye?"

"All I have ever heard are urban myths and rumours," admitted Bucky, "It is said that back when he was still an agent at S.H.I.E.L.D, he met Captain Marvel and her pet cat, who was an alien. Giant tentacles would come out from the cat's mouth and swallow entire vehicles, jets, and even people! Some people say that it was the same cat that scratched out his eye."

"I wonder if any of it is true," Sam thought. 

2 WEEKS LATER, Mrs Marshmallow was still sour with Sam and Bucky. Both the gentlemen tried to shower her with her favourite food, toys and what not. Still, there was no swaying the feline. Unknown to them, she was seeking revenge.

And so one night, when Bucky was fast asleep, Mrs Marshmallow entered his room stealthily and looked for his vibranium arm. He often removed it before sleeping and kept it on the chair besides his dresser. She slowly went towards the arm, and opened her mouth. Large, thick tentacles emerged from her mouth and grabbed the arm. The tentacles retracted back in her orifice as she swallowed the whole vibranium arm without flinching her eyes. 

She then turned towards Sam's room and swallowed the compact bag that contained his giant metal wings.

Bucky woke up a few hours later and immediately noticed his missing arm. "Sam! SAM! Where is my arm?" he shouted as he looked for him in the apartment.

Sam emerged from the kitchen with a bowl, whisking the pancake batter, "What's wrong? You need a hand?" he snickered. 

"Yes I need my hand!" Bucky showed him his shoulder stump, "Where did you hide it?"

"Hide what?"

"My arm! Ugh! Sam I am not in the mood for games!"

"And I am not playing any!" Sam defended himself, "I know I have hidden your arm in the past, and I know I have even laughed at you about it for days, because it's always hilarious, but-"

"I am checking your room," Bucky snapped and entered Sam's room. 

He came out a few minutes later, "Sam, even your wings are gone."

Sam dropped the pancake he was about to flip, "WHAT?!" he exclaimed in shock.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y was there an unauthorised entry last night in our apartment?" Bucky asked the AI.

"No Mr Barnes," came the prompt reply.

"We need to inform Fury about the robbery and secure a perimeter," Sam supplied as they prepared to leave the apartment in a hurry, worried about a potential breach in the security system.

Both the superheros kept food and water for the cat and left. Mrs Marshmallow gladly ate her imported tuna mush in peace, relishing every bite with leisure without a care in the world.

This fic was inspired by this beautiful image created by @muffinshark 😍😍😍

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Permanent tag: @donutloverxo @notyourtypicalrose @just-one-ordinary-fangirl

Taglist for Bucky: @loustan90

Taglist open! Just comment, send an ask or message!

[mermaidcashton]

i hate to admit it

author: claire (@mermaidcashton) ship: michael clifford/reader prompt/AU: this is a gift for the wonderful @h0tsos who wanted soft, subby Michael in an enemies to lovers capacity (and i snuck some coffee shop!au in there as well, and some weebness because, well, it’s Steff and Michael) wordcount: 4k+ warnings: swearing, alcohol mentions, explicit sexual content a/n: • written for @maluminspace & @h0tsos ‘s 5sos fic writers collab (which was a gift exchange this time around) • i do not give permission for this (or any of my writing) to be reposted, by anyone, on this or any other website. please don’t do it! • title from ‘this means war’ by mariana’s trench • ‘my hero academia’ is a manga/anime series. there are references to it and a few of the characters in this but you don’t need to know anything about it to understand what’s going on.

i hate to admit it *** “So, they’re like...superheroes?” 

Luke sipped on his glass of rosé, nodding like he understood whilst making a face that showed he absolutely did not.

“Yeah, dude, pretty much!” Michael nodded along with your co-worker with so much enthusiasm he looked like one of those dogs people put on their dashboards. Except less cute. Wait, no - not cute. Definitely not cute at all. Good save, you. Couldn’t have your own internal monologue thinking you felt anything for the moron you were forced to work with 3 times a week was anything more than an annoyance you had to endure. With a butt that wouldn’t quit. Dammit, self! 

Michael took advantage of Luke showing an interest in his (and yours) favourite anime, and began bombarding him with half baked theories, predictable favourite scenes and shitty character analysis. He nearly knocked his own hat off as he flailed his hands around in an attempt at explaining the dynamics of a battle from the second season. Luke smiled politely. 

You snorted into your drink as you drained the last of it; you were definitely going to need another. If Michael started fanboying over Deku again, you were going to scream.

As you placed the empty bottle onto the wood of the coffee table, you took another glance around the apartment you were in. You’d never been up here before, despite spending a minimum of 20 hours a week in the coffee shop downstairs. But after this evening’s staff meeting tackling such issues as ‘who forgot that milk needs to be kept in the fridge overnight’ (Luke), ‘who is putting too much whipped cream on hot chocolates’ (Michael), and ‘who wrote ‘THIS COFFEE IS HOT, BUT U R HOTTER ❤ ) on a customers caramel macchiato’ (Luke again), Ashton had invited you all upstairs for a ‘employee chill’. You had been surprised a week or so into your employment when you had found out that the manager was also the owner who lived in the apartment above Screamin’ Beans; he was only in his mid twenties, but the more you’d experienced his drive and determination, the more your surprise had dwindled. Ashton really was a great guy, with one big flaw; Michael. They had been best friends for years, hence him moving into the apartment when he came back into town and the job Ashton had given him; which in your humble opinion was the equivalent of setting a monkey loose on the milk frother.   

Michael had sealed his fate with you the same day he’d started work. He arrived 10 minutes late (from upstairs), sleepy eyed and shy smiled. His fluffy blonde hair was spilling out of his beanie, and he kept biting his very pink lip bottom with sharp little teeth. The way he pronounced your name was adorable. You’d burned your hand on the espresso machine. Strike one. Things unravelled quickly after that. He was ‘too shy’ to take orders and work the register so you were stuck there all day talking to goddamn customers about why it wasn’t a good idea to have 3 pumps of every syrup while he hid behind silver machinery and dirtied way more jugs than you deemed necessary. Strike two. And then he’d dropped a latté into that ladies bag - sorry, very expensive bag. Michael had let out a ‘uuuhhh’ sound like a malfunctioning robot without moving for so long that the furious customer had stopped trying to yell at him and focused her rage on you instead. When he had eventually come to whatever passed for his senses, Michael had power walked into the employee bathroom and didn’t return until Calum arrived to join the shift and assured him the woman had left, twenty minute later. You were beyond strikes. You’d been so sure you could talk Ashton into scheduling you together as little as possible. There was no reason to put you down to work nearly every shift together, especially shifts where only two staff were on! Except, apparently there was because he kept fucking doing it. Every time you pressed Ashton on it, he’d say something about how he needed Michael ‘trained by the best’, or ‘matching availabilities’, or he thought their ‘energies combined well; auras are meshing, y’know?’ The one might have been on you for catching him as he was returning from his Vibe Check Yoga class at the studio down the street. 

He’d also emphasised that Michael needed more friends now he was back in the city, and you two had loads in common! You both liked pop punk! You’d rolled your eyes. And Italian food! A ‘tch noise. And anime! Okay, you’d bite. 

The next time you’d gone into work, you’d engaged Michael in a conversation about ‘Tokyo Ghoul’ and recommended ‘Demon Slayer’; things started to pick up. You didn’t fantasise about locking Michael in the walk-in fridge the whole shift. And then…

“You watch ‘My Hero Academia’, right?” “Uh, yeah! I love it.” “Me too! I just ordered a Todoroki tee yesterday. And another Deku one, of course; gotta rep my main man!” “Oh..cool! He’s your favourite?” Of course Michael was a basic bitch. But hey, that’s fine. Deku was fine. He was the main character, after all. And he’s a little less whiny in the recent manga issues, you guess. And the way Michael’s face was right now - open, comfortable, lit up like the 4th of July? That was good, too. His eyes were so green.  “Yeah! Who’s your favourite character?” “Well, I would die for a bunch of ‘em, but I’m a Bakugou girl at heart.” You laid a palm flat on your chest, choosing to ignore the feel of your heart beating faster than it had been five minutes ago beneath it.  Michael wrinkled his nose. “Bakugou? But he’s like...he’s so mean! And angry!”

Oh no. You’d had this conversation before. You locked eyes with Michael, hoping he could see the warning in your eyes. Don’t do it, ho.

“Like, he’d probably make a better villain than hero!”

“You okay, boo?” Calum slid into the space on the couch beside you, holding out a fresh beer for you to take. “You look deep in thought.”

You hummed and accepted the bottle from him, letting go of your train of thought as you caught sight of Luke trying to prove he could get his overly long leg behind his head. Michael and Ashley F. were both actively trying to avoid getting kicked in the face with a sparkly boot, whilst Ashton was just monitoring the situation very intently; you’re not entirely sure when he last blinked. 

You snorted again as Luke’s foot slotted into place in a position you were 85% sure he would not be able to get out of again without assistance, possibly from the emergency services.

“I’m fine. Gotta be one of us capable of thinking here, y’know.” You teased, looking sidelong at Calum. He laughed, rubbing a hand over his freshly shaved hair; he’d always been as easy to get along with as he was obnoxiously handsome. “Hey! You’re lucky I know you’re talking about the human pretzel over there! And I guess, your boyf-” Big brown eyes glittered at you over the hand you’d slapped over his mouth. “-fwendth.” Narrowing your own eyes at your friend, you hissed. “Shut up! I would rather die.” Calum waggled his eyebrows incessantly at you until you relented and dropped your hand. “You knew who I was talking about, though.” Ugh. Smug was not a good look on Calum. “You know, smug is not a good lo-oh fuck, is that the time?” The clock behind Calum’s head showed 8:58; your auction ended at 9:00. You fumbled into your bag for your phone, unlocking it and flicking straight to the app you needed. Phew - still the top bid. “Whatcha doin’?” Calum hooked his chin over your shoulder, blowing your hair out of his face before settling down. 

“Bidded on a really cool, limited edition figure. One of my all time favourite anime characters. The auction is about to end.” You explained,  making sure Calum could hear you other the cacophony of sounds associated with Luke trying to get his other leg behind his head. You both watched the seconds tick down, your username sitting securely by the words ‘Winning Bid’. At two seconds to nine, the page refreshed, then refreshed again; it was over.

‘Winning Bid: BIGRED69’ “Uh...what happened? That’s not you, right?” Calum asked, tilting his head to look at your face, and the rage it contained. BIGRED69. He’d done it again. 

“Uh oh, Y/N - what’s wrong?” Ashton’s voice pulled you out of your internal screaming, and you looked up at him. 

“She’s losing her weeb shit at a heavy eBay loss” Calum answered for you, nodding solemnly as he pulled away from you, giving you room to bonk him with a cushion. “Oh! That’s too bad, but that’s another thing you and Mikey have in common!” Ashton beamed. “Mikey!” Oh no. Oh no, no.

“Yeah?” Michael sloped over, getting his black boot caught on the corner of the leopard print rug as he did. Ashton caught him with an ease you suspected (knew) came from practice. “Why don’t you take Y/N to see your anime dolls? She collects them, too!” Ashton looked so pleased with himself and his suggestion for further ‘bonding’ for you and Michael, and Michael looked like he’d been force fed raw lemon at the phrase ‘anime dolls’, so you let it go on your own behalf. Except now Michael was waiting expectantly for you to follow him to his room and Calum was shoving you off of the couch to get you moving. Fuck your life. You sighed as you got up and started walking. “Fine, let’s go; you can show me your Todoroki body pillow and then we can get on with our lives.” Michael let out a small hiss like an angry kitten, his cheeks colouring a pretty pink. He spared a glance at everyone left in your wake. “I, um, don’t have a body pillow, you guys.” “Suuuuure!” You rolled your eyes, waiting for Michael to enter his bedroom so you could follow. The blonde flicked the light on and moved slightly further in so you could pass him, before shutting the door with a small ‘click’. You decided not to comment on this action, looking around at the posters on the walls and figurines on the shelves instead. You were undecided on whether or not you were going to comment on how cool a lot of Michael’s shit was. A ‘Full Metal Alchemist’ poster over his bed, a full shelf of Funko Pops from movies you loved, framed prints of album artwork by Waterparks and The Maine. Fuck. You were really aware of Michael staring at you with an almost hopeful (?) look on his face as you let your eyes travel around his room before he could show you his ‘anime dolls’. Fuck. Your stomach felt fluttery, and you thought you might have a serious problem here, before you caught sight of a very different problem on Michael’s desk. 

A rare Kirishima Eijirou statue - box signed by the voice actor - you’d been outbid on last month. By BIGRED69. What were the chances a different one was sitting by Michael’s laptop?

“So,” You said, trying to keep your voice neutral and non-murderous. “Where do you get your collectibles from?” “Forbidden Planet, Tokyo Toys, eBay…” Michael rattled off, until you interrupted him. “Where did you get that one? Looks rare - it must have been difficult!” 

“Oh! eBay! It was, but I have an app for it, so…” Michael grinned, looking pleased with himself. An app? “An automatic bidding app? You sniped me?! That’s cheating!” You squeaked; you could not believe this. It was unbelievable.

Michael blinked at you, head empty. “BIGRED69?!” You managed to make the world’s stupidest screen name sound like a terrible accusation. Which it was.

Comprehension dawned on his stupid, beautiful face all at once. “Oh my God! That was you that I’ve been fighting for this stuff? No way! But you didn’t know it was me?”

“Why the hell would I know it was you!” You threw your hands up, and Michael just stared dopily back at you.

“‘Bigred69?! Obviously I assumed you were 12!” Michael let out a squawk of protest, before folding his arms defensively across his chest.

“Clifford!” “What?” Michael’s tone became more insistent. “My last name! Clifford!” You pulled an exaggerated ‘so?!’ face, throwing your hand in the air again. 

Michael had the unmitigated gall to huff, like you were the biggest idiot in the room; like he wasn’t always the biggest idiot in every room, all rooms, ever, in the history of rooms. “Clifford the Big Red Dog!” He said, insistence heavy in the words.

You often swore you could almost hear the old internet dial up tone trilling inside Michael’s brain when customers at the coffee shop asked him such difficult questions as “What dairy alternative milks do you carry?”, “Where is the bathroom?”, and even once - you swear - “What’s your name?”. In Michael’s defence, that last one had been asked in more flirtatious-than-not tone by a brunette who clearly had some kind of vision problem (he’d been dressed more horrendously than usual that day beneath his uniform apron; was that a utility vest?!), but had fluttered her eyelashes at your idiot colleague so hard, for so long, you’d been concerned she’d be leaving without what little vision she’d arrived with. But still. Idiot. Michael, not you. And yet, now it was you with your brain puttering through the information you had with the shrill electronic sound of the 90’s in your head. “Clifford the- are you for fucking real?” This could not be real life.

“It’s totally clever!” Michael asserted, continuing in earnest once you scoffed in reply. “No, listen! Because of Clifford, and also, I had red hair when I made it, and 69 is funny - it is! - and, well-” His face flushed slightly before he puffed his chest out a little, apparently deciding to commit to his defence of his screen name. “I’m big, so it works on like, loads of levels!” 

This could not be happening to you. You were decidedly not standing in the bedroom of a coworker you simultaneously couldn’t stand and also couldn’t stop thinking about kissing as you restocked the counter fridges in the evenings, as he explained that his auction site handle was a combination of a previous dye job, an insinuation about his dick and a massive fucking dog. You could not let Michael have the upper hand here, but you were floundering. So you fell into more familiar, more pathetic territory. 

“If you were called something like ‘deku-loving-loser’, then, sure - I would have known it was you!” “Who’s 12 now?!” “Uh, still you!” Okay, so this wasn’t your finest moment, but you were in it now. And you’d really wanted the Kaminari figure tonight. Michael didn’t even like him that much!

“The point is, you totally sniped me! And you get stuff about basic canon wrong! And your understanding of the characters is one dimensional! And, and...your hat is stupid!” Well, shit. In your defence, Michael’s hat was stupid. You could feel how hot your face was, and Michael’s eyes looking right at it was only making it worse. You couldn’t read his expression at all; he looked like he was searching for something, and you didn’t know what it was, or if he’d find it. You could only assume he had when he took the most decisive steps you’d ever seen him take, reaching you in two huge steps and cupping your face with both hands. Michael kissed in a way he didn’t do anything else; he felt sure and certain as he pressed his lips to yours, moving them with intent. Your brain became overtaken with television static almost immediately as you moved your mouth in time with his, opening your mouth immediately at the questioning press of his tongue. You had enough of yourself left aware to yank his stupid fucking hat off his head as you tangled your fingers in his blonde hair, Michael’s hands sliding down to clutch at your waist as you swayed with the kiss. As Michael pulled back ever so slightly, you took the opportunity to press your teeth into his plush bottom lip, the way you’d thought of doing in afternoon slumps on shift. The whine that came from deep in Michael’s throat made a split second decision for you. 

You pulled back further from Michael, yanking your top off in one go and starting in on the buttons of his black shirt before he fully registered the sight of your bra and the top of your full breasts.  

“Shit, Y/N, are you…” Michael trailed off as you pulled his sleeves down his arms, and the shirt off this body. Your eyes met his as you popped the button on his black jeans and placed your hand on his zipper. “Do you really want me to overthink this, Michael?” A moment’s pause, then he shook his head vigorously, leaning down to pull his boots off once you’d yanked his jeans to his knees. By the time he was left in his (funnily enough, black) boxer briefs, you’d discarded your own jeans and were knelt at the foot of his bed in your soft, lilac underwear. Michael’s breath hitched as his gaze drifted down your body, taking it all in under the artificial light of the room. “Get over here, Clifford…” You teased, trying not to second guess what was happening. Michael broke out of his trance and more or less threw himself onto the bed, settling his head on the pillows and pulling you on top of him for another kiss, and then another, and another. By the time you pulled back to catch your breath, your head was spinning. You braced yourself on your forearms on the bed, taking the time to admire Michael’s body beneath you. 

You’d seen the tattoos on his pale, strong arms before, but they looked different in this context; the contrast between the milky skin and dark ink made your stomach swoop. The blonde hair on his head is also a contradiction; to the dark hair on his chest and the hair trailing down his stomach and disappearing under his waistband. Your mouth felt very dry as you let your gaze continue downward, to the straining bulge beneath the fabric.

You flicked your eyes back to meet Michael’s in question, your fingers suddenly resting on the waistband of his underwear. Michael swallowed thickly, and then nodded once before fixing you with a gaze of pure anticipation. 

No use waiting around. You propped yourself up onto your knees over him and pulled on the fabric decisively, not stopping your motion until his underwear bunched up at his ankles. Holy shit.

You always knew Michael had to have at least one redeeming quality, and you’d finally found it. His cock was huge, hanging heavy and hard between his fuzzy thighs. The head was flushed the darkest pink you could ever remember seeing, and the slit was already shiny with precum. 

If a voice in your head that sounded unfortunately like Calum pressed that Michael had lots of qualities you secretly found redeeming, you ignored it in favour of getting straight to business.

“FUCK! FUCKIN-” 

Apparently, Michael hadn’t been prepared for you to take half of his impressive length into your mouth in one go. You sucked with intent, casting your eyes up to take in the sight of him. His pupils were already starting to blow, and you’d barely done anything. God, that was so sweet.

But then Michael threaded his fingers through your hair, his hand pressing ever so slightly into your scalp. The blonde wasn’t pushing down, but his grip was firm. You could feel the weight of his hand on the top of your head as you held his cock in your mouth, and that shit? Would not stand.

You grab the wrist brushing your hair a second before your other hand finds his idle one, fingers twisted loosely in the sheets. Once you’ve captured both wrists, you guide both to the same point above Michael’s hips, before slamming both into the mattress with purpose. 

If you’d had time to think about it, you’re not sure how you would have expected Michael to react. He didn’t really put out the energy of a man who’d properly fight you for control, either in a domineering way or with more of an air of fragile masculinity. Perhaps a bit of questioning but ultimately compliant as long as he got his dick sucked. But the wanton moan that kicked out of Michael’s chest as you settled into a tight grip on his wrists where you had them pinned on the sheets with intent? That was unexpected. That was interesting.   

Your mouth had remained still on his cock whilst you got his wrists pinned down, more cockwarming him than blowing him. But now you had him so pliant and under your control, it was go time. You pulled back up his cock, wrapping your lips tightly around the head of Michael’s cock, and sucked with gusto. Another groan from above you. You worked your tongue all the way around the head before pulling back enough to flick it into Michael’s sensitive slit. “Oh my fuuu- Y/N, God, I-” Michael was starting to writhe, his hairy legs rubbing into the sheets beneath you. You could feel his wrists moving along with the rest of his body, but you knew you’d made it clear you’d wanted him pinned, and he made no move to get his hand free. Good boy. You sank steadily back down Michael’s length, at least to the six inch mark, before pulling back up, hollowing your cheeks as you went. Back down a little further, then up, back to teasing the head, using your tongue. Michael couldn’t predict what you were going to do next, and it was clearly pushing all of his buttons. You could taste the precum that his cock kept kicking out into your mouth and throat, and see the flush spreading down his neck. By the time you’d pulled, drool beginning to build at the sides of your mouth, Michael was a mess, moaning as much as he was breathing. This could get addictive, you thought to yourself as you let your mouth drop to his balls, and your thumbs press into the pulse points on his wrists. You hummed before you released his left ball from your mouth with a wet pop, and that’s when Michael started begging. “Please, please, Y/N, I wanna-” he panted, cutting himself off over and over. “You’re so beautiful, lemme- God, fuck, it feels so amazing, you’re- I’ve been good, I’ll do anything, please…”

You pretend to consider his pleas as you dragged your tongue over his right ball, dipping into all the creases and leaving them wet behind you. Drawing back up onto your knees, you released one of his wrists so you could push his sweaty blonde bangs back from where it was plastered to his forehead, drinking in the vision before you. His green eyes were nearly completely black, blown out with arousal. The sheen on the skin of his face and body made him glow. His lips were chapped from his teeth tugging on them, and the pink of the matched the flush spread from his cheeks down his chest. And the wrist you were no longer restraining hadn’t moved a centimeter, still pressed firmly to the mattress. Michael was a good boy. And you knew how to treat good boys. With no preamble, you took Michael back into the wet heat of your mouth, relaxing your throat and not stopping until your nose was buried in the soft thatch of trimmed hair on his crotch. You took a moment to situate yourself and enjoy the deep whines bursting out of Michael’s throat into the quiet of his bedroom, before you began to move again, swallowing around his cock. You saw his thighs begin to tremble to the side of you before you heard him speak. “Fuck, fuck, Y/N, please, I’m gonna-” You hummed as hard as you could, pushing Michael’s wrists with that little bit more force into the bed as you did. Michael let out his loudest whine yet - bordering on a sob- as he came, shooting down your throat as he writhed beneath you. 

You swallowed everything he gave you, and when you were sure he was finished, you pulled off slowly, and gently, releasing his wrists as you stood back up on your knees.

Michael looked blissed out, staring dreamily up at you with bright, adoring eyes. He still was yet to move his hands. “Hey.” “Hi.” You smirked down at him. “I believe I heard something about you’d ‘do anything’?” You shot a quick glance at the figurine on his desk, and down at yourself. “I had some ideas…” 

collab masterlist • my masterlist

[cherrylining]

Kakuriyo Light Novel Volume 5:  Chapter 9- Where The Truth Is (PT 2.)

PT 1. 

This work was translated from this website. All credits go to 友麻碧 and 深夜读书会. I do not own anything.

Note: I literally couldn’t think of a better way to translate it, but when a character says, “hehe” it’s not “hee hee.”. It’s more like a deep chuckle. Kind of like a sound of “her her”, but less brutish. I hope y’all get what I mean lol

After this, we recouped with Ranmaru and the twins, leaving the island of Chang Dao where the ceremony had successfully taken place, returning back to Orio-ya. The time was about 7 in the morning…….

“Wow! So many living ayakashi corpses!”

Stepping into the big hall of Orio-ya, we were shocked by the strange situation.

The staff of Orio-ya were still busy with the aftermath of last night’s fireworks display, each of them basically like a corpse, dragging their wobbly feet around, with half of them falling on the ground like dead bodies. 

“Woi, you should all go rest. Wasn’t it decided that the aftermath work was given to the other bunch to help?”

“Ah…...Ranmaru-sama……”

Among them was a living monkey corpse (that was Hideyoshi) that was roaming everywhere, his eyes seemingly showing a sign of blood loss. Ranmaru strongly caught the living corpse…...no, Hideyoshi’s shoulders, making him stop in his steps. 

Hideyoshi’s brain crashed for a while, before his face slowly started to regain some life, loudly yelling: “Ranmaru-sama!”  

“The ceremony successfully ended right!”

“Yes, all was successful. You guys…...seems like you also lasted until the end.”

“Yes! This year's turnover far exceeds previous years' results! Although the sudden increase in the number of visitors has also led to various unexpected situations, but the employees of Tenjin-ya helped us out, overcoming its difficulty. However, as you can see, everyone has burned out, and all have been killed."

“Ha! This is good work!”

Ranmaru showed an expression of joy from the success.

“Hideyoshi, you led well, as expected of Orio-ya’s young master.”

“Ranmaru-sama……”

Hideyoshi looked like he was about to cry at any second, the tears swimming in his eyes, the corner of his lips trembling like waves. 

Nene once said, Hideyoshi felt like he couldn’t measure up to Ginji-san. 

But his sense of accomplishment from all his strength, and being personally recognized by Ranmaru as Orio-ya’s "young master", moved him too much to say a word.

Standing a little further away, Nene looked at Hideyoshi, and she seemed to show a relieved expression and smiled gently.

"Ah! Miss, and Ginji! Why do the both of you look like you just got out of the hot spring bath. What a good life!"

Under such a situation, front desk manager Hatori-san, still energetically asked.

I knew immediately why he was so energetic, because I saw Akatsuki falling on the inside of the counter, no difference from being dead…... probably completely enslaved by this guy.

"I was swept away by the big waves after the ceremony, but Ginji-san saved me."

"There was a simple bathhouse in the flying ship on the return trip, so we washed away the sea water there, and changed into dry clothes.”

Ginji-san wore his usual clothes.

I changed from Moonflower’s kimono back to the blue one. 

“Eh? Eh? Could it be a couple’s bath together?”

“How could that be.”

“Obviously we took turns.”

Ginji-san and I looked at each other, reciprocating: “Right?” Our every movement as if this was obvious. 

Hatori-san sighed, what was this guy even hoping for……

“Ah, right, Speaking of bathhouse, Tokihiko twisted his waist, it’s really tossing him, but it’s okay.”

“No, no matter how you say it, there’s a problem.”

So we hastened our steps towards the bathhouse. But after arriving, we realised that it had already been cleaned until not even a speck remained, with the young workers also energetically preparing the morning baths, which puzzled me. 

Then I realised, after walking towards the resting room next door……

“Woooo…...Sorry, Shizuna. To let you see this ugly side…...Wooooo!”

“Master worked too hard, and since your waist has been twisted, you must now take a good rest.”

“Wooo, sorry, sorry, Shizuna. I am too ugly……”

“Master, you have already repeated this twice.”

From the resting room came familiar voices.

Opening the door, I could see Tokihiko-san lying on the bed, and Tenjin-ya’s bathhouse master Shizuna, who was in charge of taking care of him. 

“Shizuna? So you came too.”

“Aoi-san, it’s great to see you safe and unharmed.”

Shizuna seemed to have come here as Tenjin-ya’s bathhouse master to help out. 

According to her, Tenjin-ya’s female bath was handed over to the capable assistant, Haruka.

“Shizuna……”

Not long ago, she too worked at Orio-ya.

Ranmaru looked at the ex-employee, and slightly squinted. 

Shizuna, however, stood and silently bowed her head. 

“Ranmaru-sama also looks to be unharmed. Both the bathhouse and hot springs in Orio-ya are completely renovated. It seems that both Tokihiko-san and the hot spring teachers here have worked hard to create the best environment.”

“I heard that you were also given the important job of researching the medicine spring in Tenjin-ya, Shizuran.”

“Yes, so I have prepared the medicine and patches for the master who twisted his waist…...I left a bit more, please feel free to use it at this time.”

Just as Shizuna decided to silently leave the scene, she was stopped by Tokihiko-san who called her. 

“Shizuna, are you leaving?”

“Master, we will meet again soon.”

Tokihiko-san stretched out his arm from the blanket and Shizuna sat down once again, tightly gripping the other’s hand.

The feeling that the pair of master and disciple gave out, was just like a grandfather and a daughter separating. 

At the same time, also like a pair of lovers.

“Tenjinmaru is ready to set sail.”

Shizuna only left us with this, and then first returned aboard the ship.

Tenjinmaru was stopped by the coast, which was also Orio-ya’s parking space for ships. 

The customers who came to watch the fireworks display were already leaving in the air, and it was now quiet, as if yesterday’s hustle and bustle never happened.  

“Ah, Odanna-sama.”

In front of Tenjinmaru, he stood still and stared at the ocean, his black clothes fluttering in the wind.

Odanna-sama……

I firmly pressed my hand against my chest.

I have some important questions, and I must confirm them with the Odanna.

“Hm?”

Weird, the Odanna seemed to be hugging Nobunaga in his arms. 

Nobunaga also had a handkerchief tied around his neck, with a ‘Tang’ umbrella printed on it. 

Speaking of which, I clearly remembered that the Odanna hated dogs? Or did he just get familiar with Nobunaga?

“Aoi, welcome back.”

“I, I’m back.”

“Your face looks so tired. You should go ahead and rest on the boat.”

“Uh, okay.”

I acted at quite a loss.

The Odanna seemed a little surprised... but I couldn't help staring at him with a bit of suspicion. It's all because of the facts that I had learned from Ginji-san this morning. 

“What happened, Aoi? Staring at me so seriously, bloodshot eyes are very scary.”

“So, so rude!”

It’s because I didn’t sleep all night! It’s hard to not have bloodshot eyes. 

However, with an elusive attitude, the Odanna turned towards Ginji-san. 

“Ginji, you also seemed to have done your best this time…...can you keep the agreement between us?”

“......Odanna-sama.”

With a face full of determination, Ginji-san lowered his head to the Odanna.

“Odanna-sama, thank you for your care.”

This opening statement shocked me. 

Ginji-san he, wouldn’t be considering staying at Orio-ya right……

“I hope that I can once again return to Tenjin-ya, even if I am unable to return to the position of the young master, and hope to continue to work for Tenjin-ya in the future……”

However, the request that Ginji-san made was to return to work at Tenjin-ya.

Having said that, Ginji-san’s expression was quite cheerful, just like he used to be. 

The Odanna also nodded his head with content. 

“There was no need for that. So far, the only person who can bear the position of the young master is you. Therefore, I would like to once again ask you to take up the position.”

“Odanna-sama…...but how could this be, my acts has caused a lot of problems for Tenjin-ya. How could I take up the mantle of the young master again? The employees…...will not be satisfied.”

“Really? All of Tenjin-ya has been relentlessly begging me though, wanting me to hurry up and take you back. As it should be; there are too many subordinates and too much work under your management.”

“......”

“Besides, the most important part is- that this is the ending that Aoi likes to see. Moonflower is under the jurisdiction of the young master, and she will be able to work with you in the future. Speaking of which, her staying here and refusing to go back, was because she also wanted to take you back together to Tenjin-ya. It really troubled me…...I even came over to meet her, yet she completely refused to listen to me.”

“Ah, Odanna-sama, you really dare to say that. You yourself clearly disguised yourself as a fish peddler, and then also became a tea clerk, seriously pushing it.”

“Ahahahah! Oops, it was such a pleasant time, and there really was a feeling of deepening my connection with my newlywed wife.” 

“That was an illusion, not a feeling.”

“Ahahahaha.”

Watching the Odanna laugh so happily, I instead squeaked with rage, and Ginji-san finally softly laughed. Seeing everyone smile, I couldn’t help but laugh too. 

“Ah!”

In an atmosphere like this, Nobunaga, who was originally sitting in the Odanna’s arms obediently, suddenly lithely jumped down and ran towards Ranmaru, who was watching us from afar. 

“......this dog seems to have been taken care of by you, Odanna of Tenjin-ya.”

“What kind of person can glare at someone with a dog in their arms, while at the same time thank them.”

“Don’t be bothered, because I won’t say it a second time, hurry up and take these two back with you. But I should be picking a day and visiting again in the future.”

“Hehe, I see, also……”

The Odanna walked with joy in front of Ranmaru. To be correct, he walked in front of Nobunaga, and scratched his chin. 

“It’s time to say goodbye, Nobunaga. You really are different from the other dogs, making even me, a dog-hater, fascinated by you. This handkerchief with a “Tang’ umbrella pattern, take it as a gift.”

"Ha! Even the Oni-god of Tenjinya can't parry Nobunaga's cuteness, right. As expected of our family's store dog, it's really no lie…... speaking of, this scarf is also too cute."

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh~~"

Nobunaga also put on a "really, don’t know what to do with you" face, shaking his curled up tail and melting their hearts.

This scene…...how on earth……

Ginji-san and I dazedly looked at this scene for a while, and finally couldn’t help but laugh out loud. We laughed and discussed how strange this scene was. 

“Ranmaru……is it convenient to speak?”

In the moment of a calm atmosphere, Ginji-san walked in front of Ranmaru. 

At the same time, the Odanna walked over and lightly patted my shoulder, gently urging: “Board the ship.”

He probably wanted to give Ginji-san and Ranmaru some brother bonding time. 

“Hey, Odanna-sama.”

“......hm?”

“......”

As soon as I stepped onto the deck, I stared at the Odanna’s face again. 

I always felt…… that this face was familiar. 

The first time I saw him in that photograph, I already felt that way.  

That intuition then, I already completely forgot. But…...in the end, what is he……

“Being stared at by Aoi, really isn’t good for the heart.”

“What do you mean, because my eyes are bloodshot? I’m already craving sleep so much, Odanna-sama’s face looks half blurred in my eyes.”

Involuntarily, I lied. 

Actually, I could see very clearly. 

But I don’t know why, with this appearance close by my side, I felt quite at ease.

Before, I used to feel that he was scary and hard to get close to……

“Probably because I saw him as a fish peddler?”

“Hm?”

“Nothing, just talking to myself.”

The Odanna froze for a moment. I continued to think with my arms crossed.

“Hey~~ Hey~~”

A shout came from the bottom of the ship. 

I looked down from the deck, and found the twins jumping. 

“Tsubaki Aoi, are you going back?”

“You’re not going to stay for a little longer?”

“Ahaha, this won’t work, because Moonflower hasn’t opened in a while.”

The twins stared at each other for a while. 

“Will we be able to meet again?”

“Would you cook with us again?”

They both looked a little disappointed, and asked with a slightly tilted head. 

They are two innocent, straightforward and lovely chefs. 

At the same time, they had great strength in their cooking skills. The words that they gave me before will have an equally great meaning on my culinary journey.

“Of course! Orio-ya and Tenjin-ya might be rivals, but they also have a deep fate that cannot be severed. The next time we meet, let me properly taste both of your cooking. I not only like cooking, but also really like being entertained!”

“Okay!”

“Of course!”

The twins opened their arms and waved vigorously at me.

So I waved back to them too, the two cute kids……

“Hey! Twins! What are the both of you doing, hurry up and return to take a good nap and rest!”

Not long after, the both of them were called back by Hideyoshi who was not far behind, and quickly fled the scene. 

Hideyoshi scolded and scolded, but in the end he was just worried about their bodies. This is really like his style. 

“I was really worried…...but it seems like you get along well with the staff of Orio-ya.”

The Odanna also saw everything just now. 

“Yeah. Although I initially thought they were a bunch of nasty guys, I realised that everyone was actually very kind ayakashi after understanding them better, holding a firm belief to devote their lives to this inn. Ha ha, just like everyone at Tenjin-ya.”

But this inn in this southern land bore a completely different fate from Tenjin-ya.  

“I see. Then Tenjin-ya too cannot grow soft now, or else there will be a day where our positions will be reversed. After all, they have a very keen eye and found many new selling points.”

“Hehe, it would be nice to maintain a healthy competitive relationship too. I think…...Ranmaru will not act like he did before now.”

After all, he also……

He is also just an ayakashi who loves this southern land from the bottom of his heart, and only wants to protect it. 

“Aoi.”

“Hm? What? Odanna-sama.”

“You worked hard, Aoi.”

“......”

“Even in this unfamiliar land, you still continued to persevere.”

These words riding on the sea breeze were soft like whispers, and I was touched by surprise. 

I looked up at the Odanna’s face next to me, speechless for a while. 

How do I describe this…...This feeling of being tightly gripped deep inside. 

“Aoi, what’s wrong? Are you sleepy? I’ve already prepared a guest room for you if you would like to sleep.”

“No, no! Always taking care of me like a granddaughter!”

“What’s wrong? Your face is really red, are you sick?”

The Odanna touched my forehead in a panic, leaving me unhappy with how he was treating me like a kid. 

But…...I was still very happy. Regarding his “you worked hard”.

And also towards that sentence that praised my efforts. 

For these last two weeks, I have been doing all I could within the realms of my capabilities. 

There has not been a moment where I have relaxed.

“I feel a little fever, Aoi!”

The Odanna paled like a fool. 

Because he was starting to get nervous, I pulled on his black outer coat and said, “Odanna-sama, calm down.”

“It was just pressure being released in an instant. I’m fine. I will have a good sleep later on, don’t worry about it. After all…...After two weeks, I can finally return to Tenjin-ya. I’m at ease.”

I can finally go back to Tenjin-ya. Back to the Tenjin-ya where the Odanna is, and back to the Moonflower that I created with Ginji-san.

That place has completely become a destination that can give me a peace of mind. 

“Hey, Odanna-sama…...I…...maybe owe you some kindness that I cannot not pay back.”

Even though he was probed with intriguing words, the Odanna just touched his chin and said to me, “Huh?”

“Did I do something?”

“You really know how to act stupid…...speaking of, Odanna-sama, what’s your favorite food?”

“Well, this…… it is…...just kidding, I won’t tell you, Aoi.”

“Huh! I thought I could use this atmosphere to get you to accidentally blurt it out.”

But alright, that didn’t work.

I put the truth that I had learned here in my heart. The other parts that were still hidden, I will have to unravel it by myself. No matter what will be found in the end……

“Excuse me, Odanna-sama. I spent a bit too long.”

“Ginji, have you reconciled with your brother?”

“Huh? Ahhaha, probably…...I guess. I think it should be fine now.”

Ginji-san scratched his cheek with a shy smile.

They must have had a good chat.

Ginji-san had already embarked on the ship, so the airship opened its sails leisurely. 

“Then let’s set sail, we’re going back to Tenjin-ya.”

And just like that, Tenjinmaru began to move. 

We’ve all worked hard.

Also, thank you to you all.

I’ll see you again. 

In the presence of many respectable rivals, I am finally returning to the most important place for me.

“......ah.”

The other side of the southern sea. 

Pressing between the slits of the clouds, countless rays shone down. 

The scene was so stunningly beautiful, yet brought a mysterious atmosphere at the same time……

Finally, content, I took a deep breath of this land’s scent. 

May this southern sea and all living beings in it, live in happiness. 

[aqours-remade]

Thoughts on Pillowfort so far.

I’ll do more posts when the site finally stops crapping all over the bed and works but here’s my analysis so far.

I won’t lie, I discovered tumblr when I was 18 specifically for RPing, so that does to an extent make up a big aspect of my thoughts, and I want to share it with both people who intend to be regular users and roleplayers in general.

Good aspects of pillowfort:

Community system is a feature not given by tumblr or twitter, and in an era where forums are becoming more of a niche if this takes off you’ll be able to experience forum-based interaction in addition to everything else.

Community system also gives a place to users who don’t like interacting with people heavily and so publicly like twitter and tumblr a place to use the site even if their blog itself is relatively untouched.

When you delete an OP post it deletes it from everyone else’s blog too. So if something goes bad with a post or you get embarrassed, blam! Its gone everywhere. Of course, this also means we might lose some good posts now and then...

Able to make reblogs and stuff private like on twitter.

Pillowfort’s TOS protects your intellectual property as an artist.

Built-in blocklist.

You can export your blog to your new pillowfort account.

ToS regarding harassing, callouts, mob mentality and the like specifically exists to oppress kinblr for the most part is very fair and reasonable and is specifically designed to keep the site relatively drama-free and actively punishing those who create lots of problems. People who do not like the drama associated with this website or the feeling of screwing up will be relieved by that.

When it works, the actual system for styling your post basically already has absolutely everything you could already want:

Bad aspects of pillowfort:

THE SITE DOESN’T FUCKING WORK YET YOU CAN’T USE THE WEBSITE IN ITS CURRENT STATE WITHOUT IT CRAPPING OUT EVERY 10 SECONDS.

I’m not saying that to be sarcastic or anything I genuinely cannot recommend the site in its current state until pillowfort’s team can stabilize the servers. As it is I can only recommend it if you’re determined to snag a good canon url now. It has a small anime community (rn its mostly Marvel) and not too much of a gaming community yet so... if it does take off now’s your chance to snag one-word name urls and just kinda bide your time until its actually functioning, that’s certainly an idea. I’m very happy I was able to get the dream url there that I wasn’t able to get here... but with the site Error 500ing me so much I can’t really use it.

We‘re still not 100% what the NSFW situation actually is, as the TOS is vague and there are conflicting beliefs about what .io’s policy on NSFW actually is. If you’re coming SPECIFICALLY because of the NSFW ban that’s going to be implemented I would encourage you to wait until we have 100% confirmation. Personally I like it already enough even if tumblr were to reverse the situation I think I’d use this place. I think Pillowfort really needs to come clear about this very soon, because if they don’t and people learn that “oh we can’t host NSFW after all,” despite claiming it a lot of people are gonna want their money back or at least wait until its free to use. The general belief is that as long as you don’t post NSFW in tags that doesn’t belong (like porn in #gardening) then it should be fine... so they say. We really need pillowfort to address people’s concerns, even though I think it’ll be fine, as this is a major reason why people are considering the move. The staff of pillowfort have said on twitter that they are in the process of finding a new domain. As such, as of this moment, pillowfort does not allow for nsfw. However, it will in the future. The best thing to do is be patient until then, I think the goods outweight hte bads.

Even though it’ll go away in 2019 you kinda. Gotta pay to use it right now. That’s kind of a thing.

No sideblog feature nor do I believe its planned, but I do believe the pillowfort team wants a system like the twitter app to quickly switch between full blogs.

While some people might consider this a plus, being able to add onto a post with text or photos has been a staple of both tumblr and twitter since the beginning. I see this changing as a major factor of whether or not people make the big move.

MCU, Detroit Become Human, Supernatural, and apparently hockey (and maybe Overwatch?) are the only big fandoms right now. While that already appeals to a lot of people, those of us into anime and the like have relatively few blogs from what we’ve seen. While this might change as time goes on, at least for the time being, anime and video game bloggers aren’t gonna have a lot for us. On the other hand, though? This also gives you the opportunity to make your claim as a fandom content creator.

Inability to make Communities private (right now) leaves that at potential risks of being raided.

(Minor) No custom themes it looks like, but that might be fore the better in the same vain? In your blog desc you can still link to other sites so now might be a good time to get used to listography instead of relying on custom links. To an extent you can control the colors of your blog though. Some people who hate eye-strainy themes on here or autodirect themes might actually find this a plus.

(Minor/Niche) Blogs themselves are bad for RPing if you’re into that. The forums however seem to provide an adequate place for forum-based RPing. But this would also make forum administrators responsible for upholding standards like “not jumping into other people’s RPs” and basic RP etiquette we have here. And forum-based rping would make finding RP partners outside of tags like #anime rp, #indie rp, etc to find people’s promos easier, depending on which becomes more popular. Even if you can add onto posts if you can’t trim the posts like we can on here (ty x-kit) it’d result in extremely long threads that would clog the dashboard significantly. I personally HIGHLY doubt the ability to edit other people’s posts or cut out replies will ever be a thing, so chances are RPing on pillowfort are gonna be Community-oriented and not on dash. At most people will make IC posts meant to be replied to and the like and headcanon memes while keeping actually threading in Communities, which will very well rely on the Community itself to be Not Shit.

Lacks instant messaging in its current state.

Despite the fact the bad really outweighs the good... I liked what little I could do. It genuinely feels like the only “true” tumblr alternative out there, even though its in beta. I just can’t really say much until the servers stabilize. This website is still in beta, so of course it has a lot of issues to work out, and of course it doesn’t have all the features this 11+ year old website has. I’m just stating these so people who are making the move who used this as their main website are aware of that.

I’m very excited to see this website grow, though!

[xathia-89]

Mafia AU Part 5

True to his word, the press were more than a little relentless. And to keep the whole image up, Shingen was taking me to his work now most days, and surrounded by bodyguards of course. All I was really doing was playing 'dutiful fiancée' and using my tablet to plan the wedding of course.

Then an article popped up that made me pause as I was looking through a trashy media website for some glitzy ideas.

"Shingen?" I was hesitant to disturb him during his work, but I wasn't entirely sure that he wouldn't want to wait.

"What?" He frowned, though his tone wasn't harsh. It was firm and gave me an opening. I chose to say nothing and handed my tablet over with the article displayed. It was making the claims that it wasn't a true engagement, neither of us had ever been seen sharing a kiss or a moment of passion, and it was most certainly boosting Shingen's image alone. Then a line about my 'possible connections' to the well-known mob boss, Nobunaga Oda, since I shared a similar appearance with one of his top people and a surname as well. "We'll address that," he abruptly said, his mood souring after handing me the tablet back. "Yuki will take you home, I am going to be late now."

For once, his tone wasn't directed at me. He had softened almost, and I certainly wasn't allowed anywhere alone. It was the press that were starting to irritate me more than my fiancé, they simply wanted to see everything all the time, and would turn up at any appointment we made. I felt as though I had lost every right to privacy since coming back the second I started to step outside of the manor.

Yukimura was as salty as ever it felt like. The bodyguards were always focused on my movements rather than Shingen's. He lived for the spotlight, where it terrified me. I needed the shield and protection, and at least Takeda seemed to understand that about me as he ordered them to block me from the cameras.

"Miss Toyotomi!" Was all that was being shouted as we left the building. I kept my head down, and let the guys do their jobs. Not that it stopped them from yelling things at me as I got into the car.

"Apparently some people have nothing better to do," Yukimura scoffed once we had pulled away.

"Someone wrote an accusatory article that the engagement is a fraud because we've never been caught kissing," I brought up. I wasn't sure why as I glanced out of the tinted window to watch the world go by. "He didn't look very impressed when he gave me my tablet back."

"Wait, he's staying because of an article you found?" Sanada did a double take before I brought the article up for him to read over. "Witchcraft," he spat, thrusting it back at me after glancing it over. "That would never warrant a response from Shingen," he glared at me accusingly.

"All I did was show it to him, and he decided that I was going back and he was staying late," I scoffed, narrowing my eyes at the man.

"Coincidence," Yukimura was determined to stay on his current path. "He would never do all this for a woman," I heard him mutter under his breath but gave no signs to indicate that I had heard him.

A buzz on the intercom made me jump but got my attention in the middle of the mindless internet scrolling I was doing.

"Natsuki, are you decent?" I was surprised to hear Shingen asking before entering for once.

"Yeah," I replied after a short pause and then heard my door being opened.

Shingen let himself in and sat down on the armchair that had now been installed in my 'room'. He had taken note that I appreciated the two-seater sofa, and had made a measure to incorporate some boundaries it seemed after my brief reunion with my brother. I could see he wasn't looking as calm and collected as usual, and decided that maybe giving him a slighter easier time would get me some answers as I walked over from the office space and dropped my weight into the sofa.

"Because of that lovely article you found, it's forced my hand a little," he started. "I'm not angry at you for finding it, it would have caused a lot more of a problem for us both if you hadn't really. But the press are more than a little thirsty for us; it seems," Shingen didn't seem entirely comfortable with the whole idea. "I've had to arrange a glitzy interview because otherwise, it will simply be all rumours. Someone will be attending in a few hours because it has to move fast. I believe there should be a trouser suit that you haven't been photographed in yet in the wardrobe, and I would like you to wear that, and get your hair and makeup sorted for it, please," the manners and requests instead of ordering me around were taking me off guard. "I will get Yuki to fetch you when she's due to arrive, but if you could get sorted now, I would appreciate it."

"Only because you asked nicely and told me what was going on," I replied, tilting my head slightly before the redhead stood up, and then bowed politely before leaving. The complete turn around in character was a change, it was as though he'd realised I was a person instead of a pawn before I realised that I had just agreed to attend a press interview and now had to get myself ready and presentable.

She wasn't what I was expecting in a reporter. She offered her hand only to the renown playboy, a dark brunette shade of carefully styled hair, and minimalistic make-up, paired with conservative attire. It wasn't just about how she looked was my impression, and I narrowed my eyes a little.

"Don't look so disappointed they didn't send the intern Mr Takeda," she dazzled. "Ms Yushi at your service," she politely introduced herself to me, offering the same hand and smile as I lightly shook it. "Seeing as it took this long to secure the interview, then I wasn't trusting any of my staff to complete it for me," she smiled, taking the gestured seat opposite us as her photographer carefully set up the equipment. He was a little stiff, making sure to point all of the cameras at us and then he kept adjusting the angles as though trying to account for something. "We agreed that you'd see the interview before publication," she rambled off, as I suddenly tugged Takeda down as a bullet hit the wall where his head had been moments ago.

I had ‘Ms Yushi' pinned to the floor, my legs straddling her hips while my hands were over her wrists. Kenshin was restraining the photographer, the man in a headlock before he had managed to get too far. She was a feisty one and far too much energy as I was resisted the urge to clobber her across the back of the head.

Yukimura silently took over from me, and the pair were escorted to Kenshin's part of his mansion, and I sunk back into one of the armchairs slowly. Sasuke was in command of confirming that the house was safe as Shingen ran his fingers through his hair.

"You could have let that go through straight me princess," the man broke me from my trance, an uncomfortable look on his face as he fidgeted with his tie and loosened it off. "No one would have questioned it," he frowned and leant against the ornate fireplace that took up most of the living room.

"Yeah, well," I muttered, not quite believing it myself.  I kept refusing any offer of alcohol while the redhead was tipping back several shots of whiskey, trying to figure out what had tipped me off. "The camera," I said out of nowhere, "Where's Sasuke?" I demanded, snapping and jumping out of my seat at the returning Kenshin from showing our 'guests' to their new rooms.

"He's checking the base," Shingen tried to calm me, slinging an arm around my shoulders, and trying to pull me back from the other man.

"No, he needs to be here and checking the equipment," I argued. "That bullet trajectory isn't from either of them, and it's impossible to have been shot from anywhere else without glass breaking."

Kenshin hated my instinct and logic but left to go and find the scientist as I couldn't stop the pacing I was doing out of fret. Sasuke was the calm needed as he approached the equipment with a gentleness I'd never seen before.

After what felt like an age, a cough attracted everyone's attention. The room was so tense that it could have been used to cut glaciers in half. Uesugi moved around the back of the third camera, where Sasuke had carefully disassembled the device. It was a false fit and had a single shotgun built into the flash device.

"Blind the room and kill you," I murmured to Shingen. "That's not a signature I know," I said, looking up at the intended victim.

"Someone's sending a message, did they say anything downstairs?" Shingen frowned.

"Nothing, but I haven't brought out all the big stops yet," it was the first time I'd seen a smile grace Kenshin's lips. And it chilled me to the bone as the man disappeared.

"Let's get you somewhere safe," Takeda said, patting my shoulder to bring my attention back from its current rampage in imagination land.

I wasn't sure who was more surprised when the van door opened, and Mitsunari and Nobunaga were there with Shingen. Ishida's amethyst eyes had a look of BSOD, while Nobunaga was trying to work out what this was going to cost him.

"I said I'd make it worth your time," Shingen calmly said, and gestured for me to get out of the van.

"Hideyoshi will be relieved," Oda commented as I clambered down to the floor, looking me over in the trouser suit that I hadn't been given a chance to change out of.

I was nearly toppled over and encased in the warmth that I hadn't felt or smelt in what had seemed like a lifetime. My brother had forgone all formalities and appearances, rubbing his hands up and down my back as he was muttering something about wringing someone's neck and how happy he was to see me.

Then a cough made him freeze and reluctantly let me go. Nobunaga was smirking at his subordinate's behaviour, and Takeda had a flash of something that was hidden the second he realised I was looking. We were shown through to the living room where any guests were greeted and torn to shreds.

Masamune was looking ruffled, while Mitsuhide and Ieyasu were wearing masks of stoic. Though I detected the slightest expressions of being annoyed in their eyes. All of them were studying me for any signs of harm, and my brother was definitely torn about how close to sit next to me. Technically, I was the enemy for now and tried to make things easier as I sat on the 'foreigners' seat with Shingen. The man would have passed as not being bothered, but it was the slightest crinkle of his eyes and the way that he was surveying the scenery that told me he was just as on edge as the rest of the men.

"So, what's the pleasure of this? I've seen all of the photos and reports, and a few are even claiming it's all false," Nobunaga was trying to assert his dominance.

"I came across a new signature this morning, and I'm surprised you haven't been utilising Princess to her full extent of abilities," Takeda's front was going to start cracking. "Since she saved me from an assassination this morning anyway," he shrugged as though it was nothing, while I was blushing furiously and staring at the floor to avoid the surprised expressions all around. "A single shotgun, disguised as a camera flash-"

"As if we would stoop to that level," Hideyoshi immediately interjected. "We don't use those techniques."

"He's asking because we found the backups were designed to take me out," I softly spoke. "Kenshin got the information out, that should the bullet and gun fail to go off, then I was to be taken out by a sniper when the interview was over."

The atmosphere was frozen. Shingen was gripping my hand tightly, and I realised that I had laced our fingers together in support.

"So why are you here?" Ieyasu snapped, breaking the image of an aloof man.

"Because if I didn't recognise it, and they were willing to target me, then it means that someone is looking to create a vacuum and take over for themselves," I pointed out. "It might be the time to pool resources maybe and keep an eye out for the mutual threat before you go back to trying to destroy each other." I scoffed.

The whole room was plunged into an ice age. No one wanted to move for fear of breaking the illusion that they didn't want to do this before my temper was about to get the better of me. Shingen was getting better at reading me and finally suggested to Nobunaga they go and discuss the finer terms of an agreement somewhere a little more private. Mitsunari tagged along as usual for the legal protection of Oda, before the room seemed to breathe again.

I was then the focus of several overbearing brothers it seemed, Hideyoshi on one side of me, and Masamune on the other. It was a big hug, and even Ieyasu had a slight smile on his face as he watched us from the other sofa.

"I'm fine," I laughed, one arm hooked around either male. Mitsuhide was sat with a knowing look on his face before sliding in from behind and hugging me from over the back of the sofa. "I'm fine, I promise."

"You're a clever little girl at times," it was rare to hear direct praise from Akechi as I tilted my head back. "You took my lessons about disappearing off the grid to heart at least. Even when I'm struggling to find you, then you've done very well for yourself."

"I was only found because of photographed ID cards," I weakly smiled. "And even then, it took several months, in which I managed a promotion."

Hideyoshi was sighing and resting his head on top of mine. "I never wanted you to get this involved," he muttered.

"Well, I did, and I am," I firmly replied. "I'm also an adult fully capable of making my own decisions," I reminded him. "With enough of a knack for reading people that I can pull mob lords out of the range of travelling bullets," I paused.

Masamune ruffled my hair, breaking my silent trance. "You haven't had the chance for some of my delicacies in a while, so we should head there!"

No one stood a chance of stopping the cooking fanatic and promptly lifted me off the sofa in one swift moment. My brother, Mitsuhide and Ieyasu followed because they claimed to not be able to trust Masamune to not keep his hands off me between cooking things. Nothing to do with wanting to taste his food of course.

Nobunaga tapped his fingers against the desk. Shingen was a hardened man, he had to give his opponent the credit he deserved in that respect, but that was going to make him a challenging adversary to remove later on.

"What's the plan with Princess?" He asked before he could even stop himself and then spotted the crack in the mask of the redhead. A weak spot?

"She stays with me," Takeda stated, the mask settled back into place. "The media and all social circles know her as my fiancée, it would become more than a little suspicious if she suddenly appeared with you," Oda was frowning now.

"She stays here, in exchange, you can use my right-hand man," Hideyoshi was going to be furious, but it kept his sister out of the grasps of Takeda. "If all goes well, we will swap them back."

"Fine, but any media stunt stating that she's not my fiancée or is suddenly now engaged to you then everything becomes null and void and it's a two-front war," Shingen was getting a little heated under the collar.

"I don't control Natsuki," Nobunaga calmly stated. "But I won't influence her to do anything of the sort."

"Neither you or any of your men will do anything to influence her to do anything like that," Shingen was pressing hard to close the loopholes.

Oda smirked. "I'm not you, Shingen, I will come charging straight for you after this, Natsuki has nothing to do with it."  

[incorrect-menwithsword]

socialjusticebard

Do you know where I can watch the uncut scenes? I don't speak chinese (YET. I'M LEARNING) but I would still watch it anyway...I need to compulsively pump everything having to do with this show into my veins.

According to a comment on viki apparently season 1 was cut and censored after it became popular. The first version I watched was on a Vietsub website and afaik it was the original uncut version. The one on viki was the cut one, so idk if you actually got to see season 1 cut scenes or not. (Basically in ep 8 they cut the Zhi Ming-Murong Li conversation at around 21 min mark and the iconic Jian-Bin-dressing-Qi-Zhikan scene following that).

Season 2 though I think was cut a lot before it was even aired, but the staff did release some behind the scenes.

Season 1 episode 8, the Vietsub version that I watched (answers to security questions are B C A D). 

Link: http://bilutv.com/xem-phim/thich-khach-liet-truyen-men-with-swords-2016-tap-8-3332_e36310.html

Rough translation of the Zhi Ming - Murong Li conversation at around 21m32 (bc it was so damn cute):

ZM: What do you want? Tell me, and I will get them all for you. MRL: What if I want the moon from the sky? ZM: Then... I will tell them to build a high tower in the palace! MRL: I was only joking. You shouldn’t have believed that. ZM: *turns MRL towards him, face-cupping and all* Ah Li, smile! The times I’ve seen you smile can only be counted on one hand. MRL: *awkward smile* ZM: *pouts* Ah Li has his own worries. Your smile isn’t real at all. MRL: Not everyone can live like you, Your Majesty. ZM: Then do you think I’m good like this? MRL: Very good. ZM: In my palace you can also be like that (t/n: be carefree like him)! *official brings in paperwork* Official: Your Majesty... ZM: What’s the matter? Official: The Advisor says there is something important. Please take a look. ZM: Put it down. *shoos* ZM: Ah Li, you see? My sorrow has arrived. Reading those memorials makes my head hurt. ZM: Ah Li... can you... approve those memorials for me? MRL: *reads memorial* ZM: *surprisingly reads memorial, unsurprisingly leans against MRL*

Helping-Qi-Zhikan-change scene happens at around 24m45, and it’s exactly what it looks like.

(it’s quite difficult for me to watch the Engsub version of season 1 and compare to the Vietsub version, so atm I can’t remember what other scenes were cut)

Other deleted scenes from season 2 I could find:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q-ZceIk0C4E

Yu Xiao caught Murong Li reading a letter.

YX: Who keeps sending you letters? Why aren’t you replying? YX: These birds don’t stop coming even for one day. Who could be so determined? YX: *walks up to MRL and touches him* Hey! MRL: You called me? YX: Who wrote you these letters? Why don’t I see you replying? MRL: There are types of letters that it’s better to not reply than to reply. YX: I hate that kind of excuses the most. If you’re not replying, then how can the writer’s heart be expressed? MRL: If the hearts are connected... then even when you don’t say anything, you can still understand the other’s feelings. YX: Who is the sender? You look so troubled. I want to see. *snatches letter* MRL: Your Highness! Give me back the letter! YX: Take it back yourself. MRL: *reaches, trips on his dress, falls into YX’s arms in slow motion, shoujo background everywhere* *eight million years passed* MRL: *gets up* Thank you, Your Highness. YX: *visibly flustered* Your- your letter. *gives it back*

The other scene is Murong Li sleeptalking, addressing Yu Xiao, but also saying “What I want the most is-”. Yu Xiao took his hand.

Scenes that fans on Facebook posed:

https://www.facebook.com/thichkhachliettruyenvnfc/videos/775965339248738/

(behind the scenes, the final cut was at ~2:25. Basically ZM picked MRL up and spinned him around)

https://www.facebook.com/thichkhachliettruyenvnfc/videos/777074709137801/

(first part was also behind the scenes. I don’t remember if this scene was cut or not. The second scene that has hand-holding and ling guang calling you know who was definitely cut though.)

[dadvans]

episode two :: Yuri realizes, suddenly and terribly, he might be a little bit in love.  

Victor doesn’t even try to go to sleep.  He just lays in bed with his laptop, watching the thirty-seven takes of Yuuri trying to get “hi, I’m Yuuri Katsuki, and I’m the Bachelor” out of his mouth.

“Don’t they know who I am?” Yuuri slurs on screen.  

“Yuuri, you have to put the champagne bottle down, you have to pretend to be sober,” Phichit says off camera, all authority gone from his voice.  He’s trying not to laugh.

“Phichit,” Yuuri says, and he takes a big swig from the bottle, bubbles pouring down both sides of his lips. “You can’t tell me what to do.  I’m Yuuri Katsuki, and I’m the motherfucking Bachelor.”

Victor pushes past the canvas tarp of the production tent only to be greeted with quiet.  A dozen or so of the production staff are mingling in hushed tones, all showing varying degrees of hangover.  Mila is wearing sunglasses, despite the only light in the tent coming from several dimmed monitors, and Cao Bin is holding two greasy brown bags that smell a lot like McDonald’s breakfast, and not at all like the untouched table of fresh fruit laid outside by craft services.  Everyone smells like stale alcohol and sweat, wearing layers on layers to mask two hours sleep with no shower despite the early morning summer heat of Los Angeles .  

“Where’s Sara?” he asks, looking around.

“Puking,” Mila says.  Her voice sounds like gravel, and she takes a long, long sip of iced water.  

“Well, at least she’s here,” Victor says.  He’s mildly impressed and a little proud that no one called in or was arrested after last night.  “Could someone go get her?  Emergency producers meeting.”

Mila salutes him and ambles off to go find Sara.  Victor goes over to the production grid on the far side of the tent and starts pulling down all the cards--cards that indicate villain plots, tearful confessions, potential rivalries, coordinated confrontations, a projected final two--only to rip them up and throw them on the floor.  

“Thanks to Mr. Chulanont’s carefully planned deceit of his best friend, we have been served a curveball for a Bachelor this season,” he says, letting the scraps of cardstock flutter down past his Prada wingtips.  

Phichit tries to call out, his tone both miserable and apologetic.  “Victor--”

“I’m not mad,” Victor says, cutting him off.  “I’m excited.  We need to take last night into account moving forward, because Yuuri Katsuki doesn’t fit into any standard formula.  We need new characters.  We need unpredictable stories and unpredictable villains.  We need fresh chemistry.  I’ve had today’s entire schedule pushed back three hours so Yuuri doesn’t come back to set still drunk and we have a solid plan moving forward.”

                                                                                                                      (Yuri Plisetsky, 21, Team USA Gymnast)

Phichit pins a card to the board’s Week One column that says “YURI P. - VILLAIN” in thick, purple marker, and Victor puts a pleased finger to his lips to hide his smile.  

“No way,” Mila says.  “No one is going to buy him as the villain.”

“If we’re thinking outside the box, then there doesn’t have to be just one villain,” Phichit replies.  His is the only card on the board.  “And also, I think it’ll be a lot easier than you think.  Yuri’s PR team approached us to help with his image.”

“What?” Half the room sits up a little straighter, leans forward, drop their pens.

“That’s not public information,” Victor says, staring at Phichit curiously; he always plays his cards closer to his chest more than Victor would normally like, but it’s only because he’s working three steps ahead of everyone else.  Phichit gets off on the element of surprise as much as Victor, and maybe that’s why Victor trusts him so much.  “How did you know?”

Phichit digs his phone out of his pocket, tap tap taps a few times at the screen, and turns it around to show the rest of the room the still of a grainy film.  “Anyone who knows where to look can figure it out.  Yuri Plisetsky may be America’s Golden Boy after the medals he earned us in the last Olympics, but only because his team was working overtime to keep content like this off of mainstream news outlets and social media websites.”

He presses play.                                                                                                   

The video is poor quality, probably taken on an older model of phone, and it features someone who looks and sounds exactly like Yuri Plisetsky screaming at a Burger King employee.

“How did he make it past the psych eval?” Cao Bin asks quietly after the video ends. “He tried to whip that kid in the face with a gold medal.  Does he usually wear that everywhere?”

“There are dozens of videos like this, and they aren’t impossible to find,” Phichit says.  “It’s not a matter of if they come to the public’s attention, but when.  But let’s say he gets onto a reality program that is watched by a few million in prime time that shows him as sensitive, caring, deeply passionate-- his team gets to say in the wake of those videos going viral, ‘oh, that was when he was young.  He’s grown up since then.’”

“So, you’re saying let’s exploit and manipulate his anger issues and possibly destroy his life?” Morooka asks, incredulous.

“Nobody here is a saint,” Phichit replies. “I’m certainly not.”

“God help us all if we get on your bad side, Phichit,” Mila says, and she writes something down in her notepad and takes another drink of what Victor is beginning to suspect is definitely not water.  “Anyway, if we’re talking about people who are doing this for their image--”

                          (Jean-Jacques Leroy, 23, Aspiring Model)

“He has a girlfriend,” Mila says, and another gasp blows through the room.  She looks up to Phichit, who is still standing coolly by the board.  “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Phichit goes back to his phone and within seconds has an Instagram page pulled up.  “If he adds you to his private Insta--which let’s be honest, he adds just about anyone who finds him, because he wants the endorsement money--he’s pretty honest about his relationship status.”

“How long were you planning on keeping this to yourself, Phichit?” Victor asks, looking at him curiously, then, “Mila?”

Phichit shrugs.  Mila rolls her eyes.  “You usually give out cash incentives for manufactured drama when you get bored during Week Three.”

“Shame,” Victor says.  He hates being predictable. “What do you propose we do with this information?”

“It would be a pity if rumors started to spread on set,” Mila says, faux innocent, intent well apparent even behind her sunglasses.

“Or,” Sara says suddenly, grabbing her by the arm, excited.  “Sorry, sorry, I just--I have an idea.  We should pit him and Yuri against each other as rivals.  Use their desperation for good publicity against them.”

“Holy shit,” Mila says gently.

“Beautiful,” Phichit agrees.  

“Tell me more,” Victor says.

“We know their type.  They want to make this about them, right?  Conflicting personalities, both trying to prove something, the wrong thing--that they’re a good person--no, the best person-- and that they’re here for love.  Let’s push them to their limits and see who is willing to take more risks for the sake of their image.  We pit them against each other and let that drive the narrative.”

“You’re so evil, babe,” Mila says, and they cheers their plastic Starbucks cups that are definitely not full of iced water, Victor determines.  “Love it.”

“Are we seeing them as endgame, then?  Final two?”  Cao Bin asks.  He looks skeptical.  

“Top four, at least,” Victor replies, writing his own “J.J. - VILLAIN - 4” card and pinning it to the board.  “It would be nice to have someone in the top two who at least is pretending to be here for the rights reasons.  Ideas, anyone?”

       (Georgi Popovich, 27, former-Bachelorette contestant, single father)

“Oh, God no, can we please put him out of his misery?” Mila says, slumping back in her chair. “If we had a drinking game for every time he said ‘Anya’ or cried about his fucking kid, we’d all be dead of alcohol poisoning.”

“To be fair, after last night, I’m surprised some of us already aren’t,” Victor says.  “But yes, agreed.  The only person involved in this franchise that hasn’t unlocked his tragic backstory is the Bachelor, I’m assuming, which means that if he stays, it’s just going to be him rehashing what everyone already knows.  Let’s try to get rid of him by Week Three, and go with someone else.”

                         (Michele Crispino, 22, Medieval Times Knight)

“Please, I’m begging you,” Sara says.  “All of our lives would be easier if Mickey was getting laid on a regular basis.”

“I feel like that would be cruel to poor Yuuri,” Victor says.  Everyone on set has had to deal with Sara’s Crazy Brother at least once.  “I mean if Yuuri genuinely likes him, good for him.  But your brother is a little… intense.  I don’t want to take the chance manipulating him to the top.”

“You’re talking about him like he’s a serial killer,” Sara says.  

Everyone meaningfully does not look at her.  No one says anything.  

“Anyway,” Victor says.

                          (Minami Kenjirou, 21, Disney On Ice Performer)

“So, my brother’s a serial killer, but Minami ‘I Bought Your Old Outfit And Show Up Wearing It To Meet You’ Kenjirou isn’t a stalker,” Sara says flatly.

“I feel like it comes from a genuine place,” Phichit says.  Minami was one of his personal picks during casting.  “Like, having known Yuuri for years, I’ve met a number of his fans.  Minami’s a figure skater too, and he doesn’t have the ‘steal a lock of your hair when I’m hugging you’ vibe that a lot of Yuuri’s other fans do.”

“I’m worried he might be too innocent for Yuuri.  I think he was actually crying when Yuuri gave the rigger a lap dance last night,” Mila says.  

“Yuuri’s a lot different when he’s sober, though.  He needs someone fun and sweet like Minami,” Phichit replies.

“I realize that you’re trying to have your friend’s best interests at heart, but no one watches the Bachelor for sweet, innocent fun,” Victor says.  “Let’s table Minami and look at some other options.”

Moving on they also discuss Leo de la Iglesia (23, College Radio Director), Seung-gil Lee (24, Dance Instructor) and Guang Hong Ji (23, Preschool Teacher).  Nothing sticks.  The board still only has the two cards pinned to it.

“What about Otabek?” Cao Bin suggests.

“Otabek was good on paper, but I would rather watch paint dry,” Sara complains.  

“The guy is honestly like a Terminator,” Phichit agrees.  “What about Christophe?  He seems fun.”

“Christophe’s just here to have a good time,” Victor says.  “I don’t think he believes in monogamy.”

“For all we know, neither does Yuuri,” Mila says, leveling Phichit with a look, “since he didn’t even know this was a dating program. He looked pretty thrilled to be sandwiched between four different men all at once last night too.”

Victor sighs and puts his face in his hands, peeking at the empty board through his fingers.  Eventually he sighs, straightens himself up and says, “let’s scratch the board.  For now.  I like the Yuri-J.J. rivalry, but everything else--  I think we have to let Yuuri Katsuki happen to us instead of us happening to him.  Deeper into production we can see what narratives are naturally unfolding and pursue those.”

“You want us to do this blind?” Cao Bin asks, disbelieving.

“Yeah,” Victor says, and he realizes he’s smiling.  “Yeah.  It’ll be fun.”

The Bachelor contestants who survived the first rose ceremony arrive in a fleet of Escalades at the OC Fair, producers and crew pooling out behind them.  Even in the dry heat, there’s always something about walking into fairgrounds that makes Victor feel uncomfortably sticky all over.  As he meets up with the crew and cast who are gathering around Celestino at the fair gates, he can see the look of discomfort on nearly all of their faces save Celestino, who is ever the professional.  

“Now, I know that all of you are not here to see me,” Celestino is saying, his smile and laughter so fake and boisterous you can’t help but love him for trying so hard.  The rest of the men politely chuckle.  “We’ve got quite the event planned out today.  Your Bachelor is currently waiting for you in the giant ferris wheel, where each one of you will get to have a private one-on-one that lasts for a single rotation of the wheel; that’s ten minutes, so make your time count, because as soon as your turn is over, it’s going to be your fellow competitor’s turn to try and impress.  After every one of you has had an opportunity to sit down with the Bachelor, he will pick the five men who have made the best impression for a group date, while the rest of you will be escorted back to the mansion.  Understood?”

The men are prompted to cheer in an exaggerated way, fistpumping the air, letting whoop-whoops out with their hands cupped round their mouths, “like the Bachelor can hear you!”

There’s a production tent already set up next to the giant ferris wheel, and the crew sighs in relief stumbling inside to escape the sun and carnival smell.  Monitors are already set up with five steady cams showing Yuuri sitting with his hands in his lap in a carriage near the top of the ride.  He looks surprisingly put together, which Victor credits the emergency wardrobe and make up team he sent to Yuuri’s hotel this morning. Victor puts his headset on, mic to his mouth.

“Good afternoon, Yuuri!” he says, wincing slightly as Yuuri yelps with surprise into his own mic and jumps a foot into the air.  “Sorry, sorry, you okay?”

“Victor?” Yuuri asks, looking up at the corner cam.

“Yes!” Victor says.  He doesn’t know why it thrills him so much to have Yuuri remember his name after a night of drunken debauchery, where during the rose ceremony he had trouble remembering half of the men’s names (“Nipples,” Yuuri had called out to a shirtless Christophe, “c’mere, you get a rose”). “How are you feeling this morning?”

“I’ve thrown up twice since I’ve been on this ride,” Yuuri admits.  “Don’t worry, it’s been cleaned up.  This is a new shirt.  I brushed my teeth.  Someone brought me a vodka tonic.”

“Good,” Victor laughs, “good.  Okay, we have the men coming down toward the ferris wheel on your right.  When you get to the top of the ride we’re going to need you to stand up and wave to them.  Think you can manage that?”

“Standing?” Yuuri says, like he can’t.  It takes Victor a second to realize he’s joking. “I’ll try.”

The producers inside groan as Victor forces them outside the sanctuary of the tent to greet the contestants and shoot on the fly interviews as they wait for their turn to go up into the ferris wheel with Yuuri.  

Victor mutes his mic so he can speak through his walkie without Yuuri hearing him.  “Remember, we have two goals: find me two decent candidates for the final four, and give extra attention to Plisetsky and Leroy.  We want them to feel the pressure.  Whoever gets them to crack first gets the five thousand dollars burning a hole in my pocket.”

Phichit’s voice instantly comes on through his headset.  “Define ‘crack.’”

“Something that we can use in a promo,” Victor replies. “I’ll know it when I see it.  Surprise me.”

Guang Hong is the first contestant to get into the carriage with Yuuri.  Victor’s first impression of Guang Hong was “too innocent, must be protected at all costs, who fucked up in casting to let this sweet, naive sunbeam onto the set of The Bachelor.”  Victor is, as always, thrilled to find out he is wrong.  

“How are you?” Yuuri says, standing up to greet him and help him in with one hand.  Guang Hong doesn’t let go as they sit down across from each other.

“Afraid of heights, actually,” Guang Hong says, biting his lip and pinching his eyes shut as the ride jerks to a start.

“Oh!” Yuuri says, and he leans forward and brings his free hand to Guang Hong’s face, tilting it up. “Oh, hey, it’s okay.  Just look at me and pretend, all right?”

Victor brings up Guang Hong’s casting application while camera five directly behind Yuuri’s shoulder gets a close up of Guang Hong’s big, dark eyes opening wide and staring sweetly at Yuuri like salvation.  Guang Hong’s file has listed skydiving as one of his favorite past times.

“You smooth motherfucker,” Victor says to himself, impressed.  

Georgi starts crying halfway through the ride.  “My son just loves carnivals so much,” he says, snotting into his own shirtsleeve and wiping at his eyes.  Yuuri looks uncomfortable with no escape.

“Take a drink everyone,” Victor says into his walkie.

Mila and Sara set up a corner for on the fly interviews next to a lemonade stand, which the men flock to in the midday heat.  They manage to have Jean-Jacques (“call me J.J.,” he says with a wink) cornered, when Sara notices Minami directly behind him buying a pink lemonade, and nudges Mila in the side.  

“So, J.J.,” Mila says, taking the hint, speaking a little bit louder for Minami to hear over the noise of carnival rides and the bustle of the surrounding crowd.  “You’ve never dated a man before, have you?”

“What?” J.J asks, caught off guard.  They had been talking about his modeling career.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Sara says, sweetly.  She’s looking at Minami, who is staring at J.J.’s back with curious intent, mouth tight around the straw of his drink.  “All of your high profile relationships have been with women!  Is this a recent development in your sexuality?”

“Well, I,” J.J. sputters, fumbling for his sunglasses suddenly, even though they’re in the shade.  “Not really, uh.  No.”

“Are you concerned a lot of the men here might have more experience than you?”  Mila asks.  Her ability to feign genuine worry goes unparalleled among the production staff.  “You know, experience with other men.”

Minami’s eyes narrow behind J.J., as J.J. stops, considers the both of them for a second, and then laughs airily.  

“I don’t know what you ladies are implying,” J.J. says coolly.  “I’m here for the same reason as everyone else: to find love.  Gender has nothing to do with it.”

Minami stalks off, and Sara has to bite the corner of her mouth to contain her smile.

When Minami joins Yuuri in the carriage, he starts off apologetic.  “I think I came across too strong last night,” he says. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it!” Yuuri says gently, almost amused.  “Maybe we both need a do-over.  I’m sure I didn’t leave the best impression last night either.  I honestly--I can’t really remember much.  You’re a figure skater too, right?”

“Yes!” Minami says, his knees knocking against Yuuri’s.  He’s chosen to sit on the same side of the carriage as Yuuri instead of opposite him.  “I skate with Disney on Ice!  I was just the understudy for Olaf in the Worlds of Enchantment tour.”

“How was that?” Yuuri asks.

“Lonely,” Minami admits.  “Touring, anyway.  I always wanted to be a competitive skater like you-- I auditioned for the show before I even knew you were going to be the next Bachelor, but I was excited to find out when they announced it was you.  It felt like fate, you know?”

“That’s sweet,” Yuuri says, carefully not agreeing.

“I just want you to know I’m here for the right reasons,” Minami says, and he takes Yuuri’s balled up fists into his own hands.  “I’m here to find love.  And I’m here for you.  And also… well, I think there might be some people here for the wrong reasons.”

“Oh?” Yuuri says, looking up at him surprised.

“I just, well, maybe I shouldn’t say this,” Minami says, and he sounds so earnest, almost saccharine.  “I overhead J.J. speaking to some of the producers.  I get the feeling he’s here for his career.  He was saying he’d never um.  He’s only ever had high profile relationships with women.”

“Oh,” Yuuri says again softly.  “Well, I appreciate you for letting me know.”

In the production tent, Victor says into his walkie, “it looks like we have a contender for that five k.  I have Minami throwing Jean-Jacques under the bus, saying he’s not here for the right reasons.  Anyone else going to play?”

“The money is as good as ours,” Mila replies, her and Sara’s laughter echoing in Victor’s earpiece.  

“We’re not even halfway through the day,” Phichit chimes in almost instantly.  He sounds cheerful, which is always promising.  “And I have dibs on Plisetsky.”

“So, are you originally from Japan?” Christophe asks, stretched out languid and inviting across from Yuuri.  

“Ah, yes,” Yuuri says.  “I grew up in the south.”

“I’ve spent quite some time there myself on vacation,” Christophe says.  “I love the food.”

“Oh?” Yuuri says, perking up.  “What’s your favorite?”

“Hard to say.  There’s ramen,” Christophe says, “which I love how you’re supposed to slurp up while the noodles are hot.  Or takoyaki, maybe.  There’s nothing quite like hot, salty-sweet balls in your mouth.  I just love savoring them, holding the heat in and letting them melt on my tongue one by one.”

“Well, uh,” Yuuri says, shifting slightly. “That is how you’re supposed to eat them, I guess.”

The time the men get with Yuuri is approximately ten minutes, but it takes about twenty minutes altogether with mic and equipment checks.  It’s been over three hours by the time Yuri is supposed to have his one-on-one with Yuuri.  He’s been leaning against queue gate for at least thirty minutes with his jacket over his face doing some weird deep breathing exercises probably suggested by an anger management coach.  Phichit makes it a point to walk past him with Morooka, commenting on how hungry Yuuri must be, having been cooped up the ride since noon, it would be so sweet if one of the remaining contestants brought him something sweet.

When he turns around, Yuri’s lifted up his jacket and is staring at the funnel cake stand across from the ferris wheel.  

The ferris wheel jerks to a start again as Yuri sits down across from Yuuri.  He’s got his jacket balled up in his arms, and unfolds it to reveal a steaming funnel cake with powdered sugar melting into the dough wrapped in checkered red and white paper.  

“I figured being cooped up on this ride since noon, you might be getting hungry,” he says.

Yuuri hits the funnel cake out of his hand.  It goes flying out of the carriage to the ground below.  

“Sorry, I--” Yuuri starts, eyes wide.  He looks surprised at himself.  He says again, “sorry.”

“Uh,” Yuri replies.  “Okay.”

“I don’t know what to say, I didn’t mean to, I just--” Yuuri is saying, until all of a sudden, Victor can’t hear him.  He sees Yuuri’s mouth moving on the camera, but is getting no sound.

“Yuuri,” Victor says, turning his mic back on, “Yuuri, can you hear me?  You cut out, Yuuri.”

Yuuri stops talking and looks back up to the corner camera.  Victor can see him mouth ‘Victor?’ but can’t actually hear him.

“Shit,” he says.  “Yuuri, you’re having mic trouble, we're going to have to bring you guys back around and start over.”

“Okay?” Yuuri mouths at the camera, and Victor sighs and stands up to leave the tent and see what the fuck is going on with the audio himself.

In the carriage, Yuuri turns back to Yuri.  “It sounds like they’re bringing us back around.  I don’t think my mic is working, so they’re going to start us over.”

“Oh,” Yuri says, looking away and cracking his knuckles in his lap uncomfortably.  “You-- you’re not very good at this, are you?”

“Excuse me?” Yuuri says.

“This,” Yuri says, looking back at him and gesturing broadly with both arms.  “You completely embarrass yourself on the first night getting wasted and shamelessly crawling over anyone on set who says two words to you.  Your first reaction to someone offering you food is to literally slap it out of their hands.  Sober You looks like he’d rather be anywhere else, or maybe you’re just constipated.”

Yuuri’s eyes widen, and for a second Yuri thinks he’s about to cry.  

It’s a strange, shocking relief when he starts laughing instead.  

“You’re right,” Yuuri admits.  His smile is so sad, Yuri thinks.  “I’m a complete mess.  I didn’t even realize this was even a dating show when I signed up for it.”

“What?” Yuri doesn’t yell, but it’s an almost thing.  “How the fuck do you sign up for The Bachelor without knowing it’s a dating show?”

“I’m not from here!” Yuuri says defensively, pained laughter bubbling out his mouth like the champagne he was pounding last night.  “My friend’s a producer who suggested I do it to take a break from my career.  I just--I don’t know what you know about me.  My last competitive season just ended, and it was bad.  It was so bad, Yuri.  When my friend approached me about doing the show I was so in my own head trying to figure out if I just retire out of shame and become a hermit-- I was willing to do anything to escape that place.  I didn’t even look at the contract when I signed it.  I just wanted to get away.”

“Wow,” Yuri says.  “Your friend’s an asshole.”

“I think he means well,” Yuuri says, but he doesn’t sound offended.  Maybe he’s heard it before.  “I’m not really known for being a people person.  You were right just now, when you said I was bad at this.  I’ve never been in a relationship before.  And I really am sorry about the funnel cake-- I had gained so much weight by the time pre-production started, they’ve put me on this raw diet with the exception of clear alcohol, and--”

“Jesus Christ,” Yuri says.  They’re at the top of the wheel now, and the the sun hits Yuuri’s face just right, the deep brown of his eyes looking like something worth sinking into and under.  “And I thought I was bad.”

“What do you mean?” Yuuri asks, pushing his glasses up his nose, and Yuri is drowning, drowning, drowning.

“I, uh,” Yuri says, “I’m not really good at this either.  Being here wasn’t my idea.  My publicist thought it would be a good way to rehabilitate my image after I got in trouble earlier this year.  No offense.”

“None taken,” Yuuri says.  “It’s a relief, actually.  I feel like there’s all this pressure on me to be this outgoing, sexy, mysterious figure, and I’m just not.  Like you said, I probably look constipated half the time, I don’t even know what to say to half of these guys, or take what’s coming out of their mouth seriously.”

“Yeah?” Yuri says, curious.  “Like what?”

“I think Christophe was trying to hit on me by talking about how much he likes eating fried octopus balls,” Yuuri says.  “Another guy kept asking to see my feet.”

“Oh my God,” Yuri replies.  “For fucking real?”

“For fucking real,” Yuuri confirms, and he smiles.  It’s not his drunk smile, sloppy to one side and loose, but another kind of uninhibited that feels strangely private and wonderful for Yuri to witness.  “This has actually been the best go-around so far.”

Yuri doesn’t choke on his own tongue.  Weakly, he says, “yeah?  You’re welcome.”

They’re almost nearing the gates.  Yuri will probably have to get out, Yuuri too, and they’ll have their mic packs checked and get back in again and pretend it’s the first time.  Yuuri grabs Yuri’s hand suddenly.  “Hey,” he says.  “I know… I know you don’t want to be here.  For the reasons you’re supposed to be here anyway, but neither am I, and look-- I would like to keep you around.  Just as a friend.  It would be nice to have someone around that I didn’t have to try and pretend to impress all the time, you know?”

“Yeah,” Yuri says softly. “I know.”

They’re smiling at each other like they’re trying to hold their shared secret in their mouths as the carriage arrives at the gate.

The sky is starting to turn pink and orange by the time the one-on-one dates are ending, and the park is lighting up with spinning rainbows of colors becoming more and more defined as the sun continues to sink past the horizon.  Yuuri stands with Celestino in front of the ferris wheel, and after some stage direction, draws out his selection of five men to take on a group date: Guang Hong, Leo, Otabek, Yuri, and some guy named Chad.

“That’s the foot guy,” Yuuri whispers to Yuri as they fumble through a house of mirrors.  “I just invited him along to point him out to you.”

“What a creep,” Yuri says, absolutely not shivering when Yuuri puts two hands on his shoulder to slide past him to continue in the maze.  

They go on a half dozen rides, each time another contestant getting the opportunity to sit next to Yuuri and hold his hand too tight in the thrill of the moment.  Otabek displays terrifying proficiency at the ring toss game, and ends up winning Yuuri another stuffed bear.

“I’ll add it to my collection,” Yuuri says, vaguely remembering the one that Otabek thrust into his chest during the initial introductions.

The group is given front row access to the concert playing at the amphitheatre that night--it’s a band that none of them recognize, but they all pretend to be enthusiastic and thrilled to have the opportunity.  Yuuri has three beers and starts dancing again, but manages to keep his shirt on this time.    By the time they get back to the mansion, everyone’s shirt is cooling with sweat, stuck their skin.

“You smell rank,” Yuri tells Yuuri, helping him out of the Escalade.  “Like, really horrible.”

“Thanks,” Yuuri says laughing.  “You too.”

Yuri realizes, suddenly and terribly, he might be a little bit in love.  

Chad gets eliminated that night.  So do four other men who were brought on as filler cast.  Georgi unfortunately remains, but Victor has faith the production crew will be able to fix that within the next few days.  The biggest surprise is Yuri Plisetsky getting the first rose, despite what Victor has witnessed to be a stilted, uncomfortable dynamic between him and Yuuri.  

He offers to drive Yuuri back to his hotel again, maybe going so far as to make it seem like this is something that always happens.  Yuuri agrees, letting Victor hold the door open to the passenger seat of his Bugatti, only on the condition that Victor lets him pick the music.

“Is there something wrong with my music?” Victor asks.  No one has ever commented on his music before.  

“No, no, I love Soviet folk disco,” Yuuri says dryly, taking Victor’s phone in his hands and opening Spotify.  

“You wound me, Yuuri,” Victor says, holding a hand over his heart.  “And here, I was going to take you out for hot dogs.”

“You were not,” Yuuri says. “That would violate my apple and vodka diet.”

“I was going to treat you,” Victor sniffs. “You did so good today.  But now, I don’t know.  No one has ever criticized my music taste so cruelly before.”

“Probably because you would fire them,” Yuuri says, and it sinks in like a hundred pin pricks all at once, how right he is.  The only people Victor has left in his life are the people he hasn’t let go.

“I feel like you’re saying such cruel, heartless things because you’re hangry, so I’m not going to hold it against you,” Victor says, but when he turns to get onto the Freeway, he maybe accelerates faster than usual and takes pleasure in the way Yuuri presses his hand firmly against the door as he merges four lanes over into the HOV lane at roughly eighty miles an hour.  

When they pull up to Pink’s, Yuuri says, “I thought you were joking.”

“Why would I be joking?” Victor asks, putting the car into park and turning off the ignition.

“I’m still ten pounds off my goal weight,” Yuuri says.  “I’m still not allowed to be around a pool or have my shirt off.”

“To be fair, you already broke both rules last night,” Victor says, getting out of the car.  

Yuuri begrudgingly follows him.  “Don’t remind me.”

They order hot dogs; Yuuri orders two, a bacon chili cheese dog, and a pastrami sauerkraut dog, and gives Victor a look as if to say try and stop me and I’ll eat yours too.  They sit down between the newspaper stalls out front with their feet in the street and eat quietly while the cars pass them by.  The summer air smells warm and sweet and dusty; it smells like city, and Victor closes his eyes and sinks into it like a hot bath.  

“Oh, real food,” Yuuri moans around his chili cheese dog, leaning back and splaying himself wide on the sidewalk, each hand stretched out with a hot dog as if he were placed on some salacious hot dog crucifix.  “Let me die like this, Victor.”

“Sorry,” Victor says, looking down on him fondly.  Under the neon lights, with nacho cheese smeared down his cheek, Yuuri looks like all of Victor’s filthiest dreams come true.  He tries not to choke, but lets himself reach down and swipe at the cheese with his thumb, before bringing it to his own mouth to lick it off.  “Can’t.”

“Can’t?” Yuuri repeats.  He’d been wearing a suit during the rose ceremony, but stripped off the button-down and jacket in the car, leaving just the white undershirt on.  It’s skin tight and has ridden up just a little to show off a hairy patch of stomach, and Victor can see the delicate rise and fall of his chest when he breathes.  

He looks away.  Takes a shaky sip of soda.  “Well,” Victor says, “you have nine more weeks of shooting to complete.  Then you’re free to do whatever you like.  But it’s my job to keep you alive until then.”

“Oh,” Yuuri says, sitting back up.  He takes another big bite of hot dog, getting more cheese sauce on his face.  This time, Victor hands him a napkin.

[thecoroutfitters]

Written by Wild Bill on The Prepper Journal.

Editors Note: This is an article originally “published” by Jeffery Tucker of Liberty.me in 2012. The Prepper Journal is republishing it with some additional materials (and some pictures for flow and effect.)  I have sought the authors permission but have had no response to any inquiries. It stands on its own merit, even thought it was posted in 2012. As always, if you have information for Preppers that you would like to share and possibly receive a $25 cash award, as well as being entered into the Prepper Writing Contest AND have a chance to win one of three Amazon Gift Cards  with the top prize being a $300 card to purchase your own prepping supplies, then enter today!

“The gas gauge broke. There was no smartphone app to tell me how much was left, so I ran out. I had to call the local gas station to give me enough to get on my way. The gruff but lovable attendant arrived in his truck and started to pour gas in my car’s tank. And pour. And pour…

“Hmmm, I just hate how slow these gas cans are these days,” he grumbled. “There’s no vent on them.” That sound of frustration in this guy’s voice was strangely familiar, the grumble that comes when something that used to work but doesn’t work anymore, for some odd reason we can’t identify

I’m pretty alert to such problems these days. Soap doesn’t work. Toilets don’t flush. Clothes washers don’t clean. Light bulbs don’t illuminate. Refrigerators break too soon. Paint discolors. Lawnmowers have to be hacked. It’s all caused by idiotic government regulations that are wrecking our lives one consumer product at a time, all in ways we hardly notice.

It’s like the barbarian invasions that wrecked Rome, taking away the gains we’ve made in bettering our lives. It’s the bureaucrats’ way of reminding market producers and consumers who is in charge.

Surely, the gas can is protected. It’s just a can, for goodness sake. Yet he was right. This one doesn’t have a vent. Who would make a can without a vent unless it was done under duress? After all, everyone knows to vent anything that pours. Otherwise, it doesn’t pour right and is likely to spill.

It took one quick search. The whole trend began in (wait for it) California. Regulations began in 2000, with the idea of preventing spillage. The notion spread and was picked up by the EPA, which is always looking for new and innovative ways to spread as much human misery as possible.

An ominous regulatory announcement from the EPA came in 2007: “Starting with containers manufactured in 2009… it is expected that the new cans will be built with a simple and inexpensive permeation barrier and new spouts that close automatically.”

The government never said “no vents.” It abolished them de facto with new standards that every state had to adopt by 2009. So for the last three years, you have not been able to buy gas cans that work properly. They are not permitted to have a separate vent. The top has to close automatically. There are other silly things now, too, but the biggest problem is that they do not do well what cans are supposed to do.

And don’t tell me about spillage. It is far more likely to spill when the gas is gurgling out in various uneven ways, when one spout has to both pour and suck in air. That’s when the lawn mower tank becomes suddenly full without warning, when you are shifting the can this way and that just to get the stuff out.

There’s also the problem of the exploding can. On hot days, the plastic models to which this regulation applies can blow up like balloons. When you release the top, gas flies everywhere, including possibly on a hot engine. Then the trouble really begins. Never heard of this rule? You will know about it if you go to the local store. Most people buy one or two of these items in the course of a lifetime, so you might otherwise have not encountered this outrage.

Yet let enough time go by. A whole generation will come to expect these things to work badly. Then some wise young entrepreneur will have the bright idea, “Hey, let’s put a hole on the other side so this can work properly.” But he will never be able to bring it into production. The government won’t allow it! 

It’s striking to me that the websites and institutions that complain about government involvement in our lives never mentioned this, at least not so far as I can tell. The only sites that seem to have discussed this are the boating forums and the lawn forums. These are the people who use these cans more than most. The level of anger and vitriol is amazing to read, and every bit of it is justified.

There is no possible rationale for these kinds of regulations. It can’t be about emissions really, since the new cans are more likely to result in spills. It’s as if some bureaucrat were sitting around thinking of ways to make life worse for everyone, and hit upon this new, cockamamie rule.

These days, government is always open to a misery-making suggestion. The notion that public policy would somehow make life better is a relic of days gone by. It’s as if government has decided to specialize in what it is best at and adopt a new principle: “Let’s leave social progress to the private sector; we in the government will concentrate on causing suffering and regress.”

You are already thinking of hacks. Why not just stab the thing with a knife and be done with it? If you have to transport the can in the car, that’s a problem. You need a way to plug the vent with something.

Some boating forums have suggested drilling a hole and putting a tire stem in there and using the screw top as the way to close the hole. Great idea. Just what I wanted to do with my Saturday afternoon, hacking the gas can to make it work exactly as well as it did three years ago, before government wrecked it.

You can also buy an old-time metal can. It turns out that special regulations pertain here, too, and it’s all about the spout, which is not easy to fill. They are also unusually expensive. I’m not sure that either of these options is ideal.

 Who knew this would be a thing of beauty someday?

It fascinates me to see how these regulations give rise to market-based workarounds. I’ve elsewhere called this the speak-easy economy. The government bans something. No one likes the ban. People are determined to get on with their lives, regardless. They step outside the narrow bounds of the law.

It wouldn’t surprise me to find, for example, a sudden proliferation of heavy-duty “water cans” in 1- and 5-gallon sizes, complete with nice spouts and vents, looking almost exactly like the gas cans you could get anywhere just a few years ago. How very interesting to discover this.

Of course, this law-abiding writer would never advocate buying one of these and using it for some purpose other than what is written on the package. Doing something like that would show profound disrespect for our betters in the bureaucracies. And if I did suggest something like that, there’s no telling the trouble that it would bring down on my head.

Ask yourself this: If they can wreck such a normal and traditional item like this, and do it largely under the radar screen, what else have they mandatorily malfunctioned? How many other things in our daily lives have been distorted? If some product annoys you in surprising ways, there’s a good chance that it is not the invisible hand at work, but rather the regulatory grip that is squeezing the life out of civilization itself.”

I have include the original authors bio, without changes, but now without this comment “plain old Tucker does not respond to emails sent to plain old tucker@liberty.me.

I’m executive editor of Laissez Faire Books and the Chief Liberty Officer of Liberty.me, an innovative private society for publishing, learning, and networking. I’m the author of four books in the field of economics and one on early music. My personal twitter account @jeffreyatucker FB is @jeffrey.albert.tucker Plain old email is tucker@liberty.me

Editors Note: Republished as food for thought . Of course his comment on “leaving social progress to the private sector” has since been disproved and certainly one can make a case against gasoline spillage and fumes, but not at the expense of degrading performance. This is the result of designing and implementing solutions in a vacuum. A lot has happened since 2012, a lot of things have changed, and there has been some reversal of “the crazies” but, then again the crazies are still in charge in so many places, protected by labor laws specifically designed to keep them from being weeded out, having to face the same review as people in the private sector. So new crazies are still producing….

Apologies for the fuzzy quality of the picture, you can look for yourself.

For not just preppers, but everyone, knowledge is always our first line of defense and keeping up with the crazies is a new career. Small, medium and large businesses have employees, or staffs of employees, that do nothing but “compliance”. As a friend told me once after driving from Northern California to Southern California with an unloaded 12 gauge shotgun in his trunk, a legally purchased gift for his father, that he was sure the number of county and city laws he violated on the drive was north of 50. BTW my recently purchased gas can has a vent installed, a small hole drilled and plugged with a shaved wine cork. A good prepper will always find a way, a good prepper will always check his stash and supplies …and will also hope the NSA misses this post.

The post Something Borrowed…From the Ghost of Government Past appeared first on The Prepper Journal.

from The Prepper Journal Don't forget to visit the store and pick up some gear at The COR Outfitters. How prepared are you for emergencies? #SurvivalFirestarter #SurvivalBugOutBackpack #PrepperSurvivalPack #SHTFGear #SHTFBag

[theflynnstitute]

An Open Letter: Marriage Equality and MSHS

Dear Kerry and all Staff at Manjimup SHS,

I hope this letter finds you well. For those who may not recognise my name, I am an alumnus of MSHS, past Dux of School ‘09, Head Boy 2009, student representative on the School Board 2008-2009, and all round advocate for the quality public schooling that MSHS provides its students. I certainly would not be where I am today without the investment that MSHS and its superb teaching and support staff placed in me during my time there. And where is that? I’m currently completing my Doctor of Medicine and Masters of Public Health at the Melbourne Medical School and University of Melbourne’s School of Population and Global Health, with a view to practicing medicine in rural and remote Australia. However, I am not writing to you to tell of the 8-year adventure that has been my life following graduation from your fine institution. Rather, I am writing to express my concern over the current debate that is occurring on the issue of same-sex marriage, and the effect that this debate may be having on current MSHS students. I appreciate that this is a contentious issue for many people, and I respect that there will be a range of opinions within the MSHS community on this topic. While I will be sharing some personal anecdotes to illustrate how I have reached my own stance on this issue, my primary objective is the well-being and support of all students at Manji High. I moved to Manjimup just before the end of my 5th year in primary school. I distinctly remember my first recess break at Manji Primary, sitting with a group of new classmates as a nervous city-slicker kid, who had moved to the country to start a new chapter. Not even 2 hours into my first day at school, and I was called a ‘poofter’ by a boisterous young classmate, much to the enjoyment of the rest of the boys in the group. I didn’t even know what a poofter was, and so laughed along with the joke that was my presumed sexuality. I soon learnt that poofter was not something I wanted to be called… and so began a decade long journey of suppression and denial, the ramifications of which I still deal with today. I do not wish to portray Manjimup or MSHS as a particularly homophobic place, or community. Overall, I think that my experience growing up in Manji was a good one, and certainly has contributed in a positive way, to shaping me into the man I am today. However, like many towns across rural and regional Australia, homophobia in Manjimup was present, and was something that I had to deal with growing up in that place. More pertinent to the objectives of this letter however, are my experiences as a young, closeted, queer student at MSHS. Academically, the level of support I received at MSHS was outstanding and served as a superb foundation for both my undergraduate and postgraduate studies. However, lying behind the narrative of good academic achievement I experienced at MSHS lies a more insidious story of homophobic abuse that I experienced at the hands of my peers. “Faggot”, “poofter”, “pansy”, “homo”, “gay-boy”, “pillow-biter” were all terms that were occasionally used to refer to me in the school-yard. I was told to perform lewd homosexual acts by some of my male classmates, and on several occasions I was intimidated physically, even with teachers present in the room. Needless to say, there were numerous occasions where I did not feel safe at MSHS. While I have little doubt that these experiences contributed to the anxiety that I deal with today, I consider myself lucky to say that I survived high school relatively psychologically unscathed. The friendships that I formed at MSHS served as my haven, and it was these individuals who accepted me for the person who I was without question or suspicion, and supported me and shared in my high school journey. Of course, there were social support resources available at the school during my time there, and perhaps people will criticize me for not accessing these resources. The reality is, I did not feel safe, nor justified in accessing support from the school counsellor or chaplain. I existed in an environment that told me that what I was, was abnormal, and the treatment I was experiencing was simply a natural consequence of the ‘affliction’ I was suffering from, and something that I had to endure in silence. In some ways, I feel my devotion to my academic studies was a compensatory mechanism for the supposed homosexual flaw in my underlying character. Over the course of my university studies, I have become increasingly concerned with social justice, and in particular how it relates to health. My decision to undertake a masters of public health is emblematic of this. Public health is a discipline of health science that is concerned with the prevention of disease, disability and suffering through interventions that occur at a population level. Many who work in the public health arena speak of taking an “upstream” approach, where one assesses the broader social, political, and economic determinants that have contributed to whatever health issue Is being examined. Mental Health and suicide is an important health issue for all of Australian society, but is also one that disproportionately affects the LGBTIQA+ community. LGBTI Australians aged 16 years and over are 5-11 times more likely to attempt suicide; 16-18 times more likely to experience suicidal ideation; 2-6 times more likely to self-harm; and twice as likely to be diagnosed with a mental health condition, when compared to the general Australian population[1]. And what is fueling these disastrous outcomes? Homophobia. Be it personal, interpersonal, institutional, or cultural, homophobia creates environments where queer individuals (and even people who are simply perceived to be queer) are attacked physically and verbally, are made to question and defend their own validity, and are expected to see themselves as second class, and less deserving of the rights and privileges that are attached to being heterosexual. While personal and interpersonal homophobia is damaging and should be called out and dealt with, particularly in our schools, these acts are often the product of underlying institutional and cultural homophobia. And as a student of public health, I know that fighting this more insidious form of prejudice is where the real money is, if we have any hope of progressing Australia towards the more inclusive, “fair go” society that it professes itself to be. Policy and law, must play an important role in shaping cultural and institutional perceptions of what is acceptable and unacceptable in our secular society. In doing so, they in-turn function to mold individual perceptions, particularly for our young people. This is why the marriage equality debate is so important to me, and why I will be voting YES for marriage equality. As a young person growing up in a rural community, the concept of even being in a same-sex relationship was not something I was privy to. It wasn’t until I reached undergraduate studies at UWA that I began to explore concepts outside heteronormativity, and even then, it was a number of years until I decided to come out to my friends and family. Having marriage equality will allow young, closeted and openly-queer teenagers to see that there are options for them to have their love and relationships celebrated in the same way that their straight friends and family members do. It will help to fuel a culture of acceptance, that embraces diversity and values the collective strength of a diverse nation. While I do think that marriage equality is an inevitable legislative end, it in no way justifies the means by which our current Federal Government is using to achieve it. Using a $122 million, non-binding, non-representative postal survey to inform government policy is unprecedented, and is an example of the institutional homophobia I mentioned earlier. Homophobia that expects myself and other queer individuals to sit by while the rest of the country ”respectfully debates” the validity of our relationships, and whether we should be granted the same rights under Australian law. Because make no mistake, the campaign for same-sex marriage is not just about the label of “Marriage”. Our illustrious former PM Mr. Abbott would have us believe that same-sex couples already have the same rights under civil union legislation, however it only takes a quick google search to find the flaws in that argument. Same-sex couples experience a deficiency in rights in all manner of ways from carer-rights, Medicare and the pharmaceutical benefits scheme, to tax concessions, employee rights and superannuation [2]. The fight for same-sex marriage is a fight for these rights. The debate that has been occurring on this issue has been undeniably toxic. The ‘Honorable’ Mr. Turnbull continues to harp on about the ability of the Australian public to have a respectful debate, yet seems blind to reality of what is actually occurring. While I acknowledge that majority of Australians are capable of having a perfectly civil discussion around this issue, thanks to social media and the current speed of the media cycle, much of the content we are seeing relating to this debate is extreme, vitriolic, and often uninformed. And while I do not purport to say that the NO campaign hold exclusive claim over the extreme views seen in this debate, I do believe that it is these extreme views that sell newspapers and website clicks, and ultimately hinder our ability to have civil discussion. It is these extreme, and widely publicised views that have real ramifications for the queer community. I can say without a shadow of a doubt that the past 12 months has been the most concentrated period of homophobia that I have experienced in my (relatively short) life. Not direct homophobia, although I have been accused of spreading hate speech simply for expressing my support of same-sex marriage, but more indirect homophobia. Having to see nasty and vitriolic comments on social media, listening to hateful and ill-informed rhetoric on national news bulletins, watching TV ads that tell me I am advocating for pedophilia and radical gender theory in classrooms. This all has power. Words have power, and we (the queers) of all people know the power of words. I have seen many colleagues withdraw from social media over the course of this campaign to protect themselves from the hateful vitriol. I myself have decided to remain engaged, but have also felt the need to seek professional support during this period. And if I am finding it tough to deal with the day to day commentary that is happening in this debate, imagine what our queer youth are going through. I believe that school should be a safe haven. Not necessarily apolitical, as I believe that our youth are our dreamers and visionaries, capable of imagining a future that is better than the present, and politics is an important part of this. However, growing up these days is difficult enough without the added pressure of dealing with this ongoing debate. And it’s not just queer youth we should be concerned about. Many straight-identifying young people also support same-sex marriage, have friends that identify as queer and are having an equally distressing time having to deal with the ongoing commentary that is occurring in homes, playgrounds and other spaces around the country. I really do urge the MSHS community to draw together during this time to support all its students. While I cannot attest to the current socio-political atmosphere of MSHS or the broader Manjimup community, I do strongly urge all individuals to call out homophobia, or any other type of prejudice or discrimination as completely unacceptable. Acknowledge the divisiveness of this debate and the effects it may be having on individuals, especially our queer youth. Give people the space to express their feelings openly, and if there must be debate within the school environment, ensure that it is respectful and factually informed. Student support systems must be proactive in addressing this issue and ensuring that MSHS strives towards being an environment that is respectful and inclusive of all individuals, regardless of sexuality, race, gender, social status, physical or intellectual ability. I would love to hear what initiatives MSHS has put in place to support LGBTIQA+ students, and to hear how the school community is going in general. I am also more than happy to be contacted by any staff or students who are seeking support around this issue, or would simply like to discuss the topic or share their insight. I hope this letter has been relevant and informative to the MSHS experience, and I hope that it contributes in a constructive way to the progression of a discussion around how MSHS can best support all its students and strive towards a culture of respect, diversity and inclusion.

Sincerely yours,

Sebastian Kirby MSHS Fan-boy

[1]

The Statistics at a Glance: The Mental Health of Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender and Intersex People in Australia Accessible at [http://lgbtihealth.org.au/statistics/]

[2] Same-Sex: Same Entitlements Report, Australian Human Rights Commission  available at [https://www.humanrights.gov.au/publications/same-sex-same-entitlements-executive-summary]

[kyojuuros]

I seriously hate this new senstivite material bullshit on Tumblr. Like I'm 17 but it is always on for people under 18, are you shitting me? I've been in Tumblr for years there is nothing I'm afraid to see lol. Plus I still see a lot of nsfw things so like idk what they are hiding from me? And I hate that I can't turn it off if I'm under 18 like, I know what I wanna see gtfo. It's seriously ridiculous

It’s puritanical bullshit and from what I’ve heard it’s not even actually blocking nsfw stuff. I’ve heard of lgbt stuff being blocked, I’ve heard of a video of a parrot being blocked, etc... Even if it was just for the nsfw material, this is what a function like blacklist that tumblr refuses to make for its own website has always been for. This is why they’ve always asked that nsfw blogs flag themselves as such... or in my case I was force-flagged as a nsfw blog even though I don’t post it here lmao. Are people under 18 even able to see anything from a blog flagged as nsfw? I know my stuff wouldn’t show up in the tags for people with safesearch on because my blog was misflagged, but are people just not seeing my content at all because of it? I’m concerned about that. 

Anyway, even if it actually successfully blocked nsfw for minors, as long as the internet has been available to the public, minors have found porn. Okay, I discovered porn when I was like 11-12. Anyone can lie about their age. “You must be 18 to enter this site” Yep sure I’m 18! *click*. I bet you can still go to people’s blogs and see the things that are being blocked on the dash (on computer anyway). 

Also, I know that tumblr asks your age when you sign up, but they don’t ask your birthday. So how are they supposed to determine when you’re “ready” to look at this “sensitive content”? Do you just have to make a whole new blog when you’re deemed “mature enough”? That’s fucking inconvenient for anyone. Starting a new blog is like a chore after you’ve established yourself on another one. Besides the fact that you lose all of your followers that way and reestablishing that is also a task in itself, all your content goes bye-bye. No one wants to do that if they don’t have to (unless they genuinely are tired and just want to start anew again). 

I just think the whole thing is dumb. Realistically, minors always have and always will find ways around their restrictions and look for things they aren’t supposed to. It’s stupid to believe they don’t. If they want to block the content, this is what blacklist for. Tumblr should really take some notes from xkit if they want to make their website better. Instead they just keep giving the xkit people more work. I’m sure they’ll come up with a patch around it eventually. Still sucks for people who use mobile though. 

I say keep raising your voices at staff. Eventually they have to acknowledge they did us dirty. 

[cathygeha]

REVIEW

Down & Dirty by Rhenna Morgan

Men of Haven #6

One of the true pleasures in my life is finding wonderful characters that I would love to know in real life. Each and every book in this series is such a book. Who wouldn’t like to have a “family” of men who have chosen one another to be “brothers” and live by a code of honor that puts family first...no  matter what. Add to that the men are HOT and ALPHA and know what they want when they see it and you have a series I eagerly await each book that comes out to see which man will meet his mate next. AND...this time it is Axel McKee who finds Elizabeth “Lizzy” Hemmings and knows she’s the one.

We meet Lizzy as she is getting to perform with her band Falcon Black and then she meets Axel when she goes out to get the band’s payment from the club owner they have just finished playing in. The guy is a bit of a scuzz-bucket with a reputation for trying to cheat performers out of money and Axel, knowing this, steps in...and it does not go over well. So, how is Axel to woo the lady if he makes a bad impression? Call in a brother? Perhaps.

What I liked:

* Axel – what a wonderful man he is...in all ways always!

* Lizzy – a brilliant musician and so strong to be able to overcome her past!

* The relationship between Axel & Lizzy – sizzling and so mature – in more ways than one

* Seeing the family members and how they are changing

* Meeting the band members and wondering if they might have books of their own

* Well...really...just everything about the book except for…

What I did not like:

* Joffrey – I was supposed to hate him and I did and was thrilled to see he was dealt with in the perfect way.

Thank you to NetGalley, Lady Amber Publicity, HQN-Carina and the author for this wonderful book in a superb series. This is my honest review.

5 Stars

Rafflecopter Share Link:

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/share-code/MTI4YzBiMzFiYzBlNGY4ODI1NTNlZjE3YmIxM2JmOjI4OQ==/?

Title: Down & Dirty

Author: Rhenna Morgan

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Publisher: Carina Press

Publication Date: March 11th, 2019 Hosted by: Lady Amber’s PR

Blurb:

The Men of Haven: fierce passion, unyielding loyalty.

Especially when it comes to their women.

A powerful man

Axel McKee abandoned his musical career years ago in favor of becoming a power player on the music scene. His dreams of the spotlight are over—and he’s better off for it. Working with his Haven brothers and building their empire is enough for him.

One who commanded attention with nothing more than a look

And then came Lizzy. A dynamic, beautiful powerhouse of a performer unlike any he’s seen or heard before. Her presence leaps off stage and into the heart of anyone who watches her sing. Axel wants her. Wants to help her and collaborate with her… But more than anything, he wants to be with her.

And every ounce of his attention was locked on her

Two things are immediately obvious: Lizzy’s been burned before, and earning her trust will be Axel’s biggest challenge yet. If he can get this fierce, stubborn, talented woman to see the passion and care that he’s offering, he might get a chance at a new dream—sharing the spotlight with the woman he loves.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/41744227-down-dirty

Author Bio:

A native Oklahoman, Rhenna Morgan is a certified romance junkie. Whether it’s contemporary, paranormal, or fantasy you’re after, Rhenna’s stories pack romantic escape full of new, exciting worlds, and strong, intuitive men who fight to keep the women they want. For advance release news and exclusive content, sign up for her newsletter at http://RhennaMorgan.com. You'll also find all of her social links there, along with her smoking hot inspiration boards.

Author Links:

Website: http://rhennamorgan.com/

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2xoUwVu

Twitter: https://twitter.com/rhennamorgan

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8596977.Rhenna_Morgan

Rhenna’s Romantics: https://www.facebook.com/groups/685771801535970/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RhennaMorgan

Instagram: @rhennamorgan https://www.instagram.com/rhennamorgan/

Buy Links:

Rough & Tumble: http://amzn.to/2iC7Faz

Wild & Sweet: http://amzn.to/2wK3Ohy

Claim & Protect: http://amzn.to/2wK90SP

Tempted & Taken: http://amzn.to/2wAtoVS

Stand & Deliver: https://amzn.to/2CbyFoG

Down & Dirty: https://amzn.to/2UrwowA

Excerpt:

Lizzy watched.

And waited.

And tried like hell to keep the cocktail of rage, praise and outright fear mushrooming up in her chest from spewing all over the seemingly unfazed man next to her. She made it until Vic and his flat ass disappeared into the back office. By some miracle, her first words came out surprisingly restrained. “Tell me you’re a friend of Rex’s and not some stranger who not only just squarely stuck his nose right in the middle of my business, but knows enough details of my bookings to make me seriously uneasy.”

There was no hint to the smile he shot her this time, the sheer devilment behind the curve of his full lips potent enough to make the most hardened woman giggle like a little girl. “Don’t know anyone named Rex, lass, so we’re gonna have to go with door number two. Though, I wouldn’t let the fact that I knew how much you’d booked the gig for tweak you too much. Vic’s not the most creative guy. Every band that’s worth a damned gets the same deal.”

“And you know about bands and their going rates because…”

“Because I know music and I know bar owners.” He faced her fully and held out his hand. “Axel McKee.”

Damn, but the man’s voice was a weapon. Rich, deep, and made all the more intoxicating with the accent. But that was nothing compared to his presence. To the raw, masculine energy emanating off him and the startling focus behind his brilliant green eyes.

He kept his hand steady. Patiently waiting for her to take what he offered.

A crossroad moment.

How she knew it, she couldn’t say, but she felt it in her bones. Intuited the gravity of the situation the way prey recognized a predator had marked them as a target.

And yet, rather than run, she lifted her hand and pressed her palm against his.

Oh. Holy. Hell.

A shiver she didn’t have a prayer of containing moved through her and her breath hitched with all the subtlety of a woman who’d just felt a man’s lips on the back of her neck for the first time.

His fingers tightened around hers. A tangible testament that he’d felt and witnessed her response, which in itself should have mortified her. Instead the deepened connection resonated through her like a tether in the middle of straight-line wind.

“Lizzy Hemming.” The quaver in her response and the sexual rasp that went with it slapped her well-honed sense of self-preservation back into place, and she tugged her hand free with an awkward abruptness. “Though, you appear to already know that.”

“Everyone in this bar knows your name.”

“True, but not one of them saw fit to saunter over here and put my band’s income at risk.”

His smile really was a killer. Quick and loaded with mischief. “Vic’s an idiot, but he’s not that stupid. You covered a week’s worth of hourly wages for half of his staff on his cut of the door alone, and the way he’s trained his bartenders to short people on most of the drinks, you put him squarely in the black for the rest of the month. The last thing that’s gonna happen is you losing a booking.” He cocked his head the same way he had with Vic, only without the dangerous vibe behind his eyes. “Now, if you’re ready to stop playing gigs like this, that’s a whole different conversation.”

Every DEFCON alarm hardwired from past experience went off at once, blaring with enough decibels to nearly make her outwardly wince. As lead-ins went, it was a smooth one, but she’d learned the hard way what trusting smooth talkers earned you. Especially the hot ones. “How exactly is it you know Vic, but he doesn’t know you? And what do you mean, I know music?”

“I know Vic because—bad business man or not—he books good bands, and I make it my business to keep an eye out for good music in and around Texas. I know music because I love it. Have my whole life.”

“You make it your business why?”

His expression shifted. Narrowed with a shrewdness that made her feel as though he’d easily peeled away all her armor and studied the raw woman underneath. “You’re a guarded woman, Elizabeth. Why is that?”

“No one calls me Elizabeth. It doesn’t fit. Never has.”

One look. Ruthless determination behind his eyes and an uncompromising firmness to his lips. “It fits you perfectly. You’re just afraid to wear it.”

[cajunroe]

Webgott Chef/Critic AU ↳ Joseph Liebgott has only ever had three major loves in his life: family, friends, and food. It all he’s ever wanted and needed. He runs a successful restaurant and it’s popularity is growing everyday. He hasn’t been worried about a possible setback since he opened. He knows that the plates he puts out are the best because he’s doing what he does best. However, there are critics. Critics who specifically seek out places like his and look for any and every reason to destroy his life. One critic in particular, known as The Shark because of a shark pin the guy wears on his lapel, apparently has his sights set on Joe’s place and he’ll be damned if this Ivy League prick finds anything wrong with his cooking. 

Joe discovered his love of cooking when his mom had to work a double or else she’d be fired. So, Joe makes dinner for his little brothers and sisters with what’s in the fridge, and when he’s sees their faces light up when they take their first hesitant bite and then devour the rest, he thinks he might have some talent. He starts to cook more often when his mom has to take more and more shifts at work. Each time is something new or different that he thought of or wanted to try. Then he starts doing the grocery shopping after school. Then his siblings start requesting dishes or newfound favorites. Then, on Joe’s birthday when he finishes making his own three-tiered birthday cake, his whole family calls him into the living room. When they hand him a sealed white envelope he doesn’t know what to expect. He opens it to find an acceptance letter to the culinary arts academy he wanted to apply to. 

“We applied for you.” His mother says when he just stares at the paper.

“T-they needed a demonstration, transcripts, and a bunch of other shit, how?”

“Believe it or not, your leftovers are better than a lot of fresh meals, I got you transcripts and you had several glowing recommendations sent in.”

Joe smiles and blinks back his tears.

“Time for cake.”

Three years later and Joe has his own restaurant, backed by his family and large group of friends. 

Joe puts his heart and soul into his cooking and loves the joy and happiness that he’s able to bring to strangers through his life’s work.

On an ordinary Tuesday night, Grant burst into the kitchen from the front of the house and whistles for Joe’s attention.

“What is it Chuckie? I’m a little busy here. Tal! Garnish and send it out!”

“I told you to stop calling me that Lieb and I think he’s here.”

Joe’s head shot up. The most renowned critic in all of San Francisco was possibly about to dine in his restaurant. He could make or break any establishment and Joe had worked too long and too hard for some college boy to ruin him.

“He wearin’ the pin?”

Grant nodded his head. No one really knew what the critic looked like, only that he wore a shark pin to the restaurants he reviewed.

“Alright, make sure you serve him. Be nice, but not too much. That pretentious prick hates when servers are too pushy.”

“You got it.” Grant said before he left.

Joe turned to his staff, “Alright boys, one customer ain’t gonna ruin us. Let’s go! Tal get started on those apps! Skip, how are the desserts? Babe, get moving on those steaks! Come on people, this ain’t opening night!” There’s a resounding chorus of, “Yes chef!”, and Lieb smiles. 

David Webster didn’t necessarily enjoy being a food critic. Yes, he got paid to eat food, but sometimes he felt less than accomplished, void of purpose, no matter how popular his blog was. So when he’s told several hundred times to try Easy Company, he looks into it. Owned by one Joseph Liebgott, it’s been open for three years and it’s kept steady business but has been gaining traction since a featured spot on a Food Network show. There’s no specific cuisine set and it’s the first thing that grabs his attention.

No pictures, that’s…interesting.

A new menu each night.

Tricky and expensive, but impressive.

Friendly and attentive staff.

Always a plus, given the industry.

Lastly, from the plethora of online reviews, it’s worth the heftier price tag.

He stares at the blank page of his novel and sighs.

Now’s as good a time as any.

Web sighs as he pushes himself away from his desk, places his pin on his lapel, and makes a reservation for late that night.

The true testament of a great restaurant is the experience an hour right before they close.

The restaurant is nice and surprises him when he walks in. He’s seated immediately and given the day’s menu before the waiter leaves him for kitchen. Probably to tell the chef that he’s here so they can wine and dine him literally.

He’s not left waiting for long.

“Have you had enough time to look over the menu?”

“Yes, I’ll have the special of the night and a scotch, neat, please.”

“Right away, sir.”

Web pulls out his phone and starts the live posting of the night, determined to do his best to find any fault or exceptionality.

Joe hates critics. He doesn’t understand the reason they even have a job. How does someone else’s experience of a place determine what your own was going to be like? What kind of indecisive person lets some stranger’s opinion stop them from enjoying something amazing? Also, why was this fuck in his restaurant?

“He wants the special and a scotch, neat.” Grant tells him as his puts in the order.

“Neat? Who is this asshole?” Joe laughs as starts the order.

Babe jumps in as he plates a perfectly cooked steak, “He’s a Harvard grad, got a degree in literature. He hasn’t published anything yet, but is working on book about sharks. Name’s David Webster and he’s actually pretty nice once you get to know him.”

Half the kitchen stops and looks at Babe.

“How the hell you know all that?” Joe asks.

“He’s friends with Gene. I didn’t know that’s who you were talking about until you mentioned the pin.”

Babe goes back to cooking like he didn’t just drop a bomb full of knowledge on them.

There’s a crash at the bar and Grant runs back out to the front of the house.

“How was everything, sir?”

Web was surprised, the food was remarkable and he’s never had such a profound response to any other meal he’s eaten. Now he understood why people fell in love with food, why people chose this career for a living, why a good meal could bring a unique happiness to someone’s life.

“Would it be possible to speak with the chef?”

The waiter’s, Charles as his embroidered shirt states, eyes widen and then give him a polite smile.

“Let me go check for you.”

“Yo Lieb, he, uh, wants to talk to you.”

“What the fuck for?”

“I didn’t ask, you said to be nice.”

Joe sighs and wipes the sweat from his forehead.

“Yeah, thanks for that.”

Joe takes a deep breath before pushing open the kitchen door.

“You asked to see me?”

Web looks up from his final review post he was writing and looks up to see a rather annoyed looking chef looking down at him.

“Yes, I did.”

“What for?”

“I wanted to say that I love your food.”

Lieb folded his arms, attempting to look unimpressed but still appreciating the praise from someone so well-known.

“Really?”

“Yes, I can see why you do what you do. I can see why you love it. I mean, my potatoes were a little over seasoned, but it didn’t ruin my meal.”

“Ov—Over seasoned?!”

Joe looked at the handsome – wait, no, pretentious – face of the critic and was so not entranced by the sharp blue eyes.

Web looked around the restaurant where some other guests were looking at them and then back at the chef.

“Yes? Like I said, it didn’t ruin the meal. I want t—.”

“Look Harvard, I don’t care what you want. You know what I want? I want you to leave. I don’t care what you post on your little website or shit, I don’t care. Just leave and don’t come back.”

Web narrowed his eyes, anger boiling inside him, and moved to get up in front of the chef.

Joe caught the scent of the critic as he stood up in front of him and it reminded him of a day at the beach. It was soothing in a way that immediately annoyed him because of the man it was attached to.

It was only then that Web caught onto the Harvard comment.

“Wait, how do you know I went to Harvard?”

That caught Joe off-guard, he didn’t catch that he let that slip.

“What?”

Playing dumb had worked for him many times before.

“Harvard. You called me Harvard. How did you know?”

“You got that look about you, shark boy.”

Son of a bitch.

Sometimes Joe should learn when to shut his mouth.

Web grabbed Joe’s arm and pulled him outside the restaurant much to Joe’s loud and vulgar protests.

“How do you know who I am?”

“I have my sources.”

Web gave him an exasperated look.

“Please, you do not have sources. How do you know?”

Joe licked his lips and Web’s eye couldn’t help but follow the movement for some reason.

“My friend Babe’s boyfriend, Gene, is a friend of yours.”

“Wait, this is where Edward works?”

“Edward? Jesus, Web, only his ma calls him that.”

David flinched at the nickname.

“Please don’t call me that.”

“What, Web?”

He didn’t flinch this time but narrowed his eyes again.

“Yes, that.”

“You’d rather be called Harvard or shark boy?”

“I’d rather be called David.”

“Well, Web, this has been nice and all but I’ve gotta get back. So not nice seeing ya.”

Web grabbed his arm again before he reached the door.

“You know my name, can I at least know yours?”

“It’s Joe, Joe Liebgott.”

Web’s mouth opens and closes for half a minute.

“You okay there?”

“Y-yeah, I just didn’t know you were the head chef as well as the owner.”

“Yeah, I’m a regular Renaissance Man.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, Lieb.”

Joe smiled as looked back at Web to see a mixed expression of enjoyment, annoyance, and longing? on the taller man’s face and it made him stop and do something stupid.

“Did you have dessert?”

It was worth asking just to see the confused look on Web’s face.

“What?”

“I said did you have dessert? Do they teach you to listen at Harvard?”

“No I didn’t and no, they don’t.”

“Well you can’t write a proper review if you don’t have dessert, right?”

Web smiled, “I guess I can’t. Is that an invitation?”

“It’s a demand.”

“Lead the way then, sir.”

Neither of them missed the hitch in Joe’s breath as they entered the restaurant.

Joe had Web sit at a chair in the kitchen while the rest of the staff finished the closing of the restaurant.

“You all can go home, I’ll finish here. We’re closed tomorrow anyway.”

The handful of staff still there shouted out quick thanks before running out of the door.

“So what do you want Web?”

Joe handed over a menu and finished cleaning the counters while Web decided.

“I haven’t had a strawberry shortcake since I was a kid. I’m a bit nervous though, what makes it ‘adult’?”

“The strawberries are soaked in an almond liqueur and the sauce in made with strawberry vodka.”

“That’s sounds perfect.”

Web’s phone rang and it was the ringtone of his editor.

“Sorry, I have to get this.”

Joe didn’t even answer, already focused on making the dessert.

He stepped through the door of the kitchen and watched Joe through the window.

“Yeah?”

“What’s taking so long for the final review?”

“I haven’t finished yet.”

Web watched the dance that Joe was performing effortlessly while he cooked.

“What do you mean? The restaurant closed twenty minutes ago. You’re on thin ice already Webster.”

The nasally voice from Sobel was grating on Web’s nerves.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

“I know, sir. I’ll get in it, right away.”

“You better, or you’re done.”

His boss hung up before he could respond.

He went back into the kitchen and sat down with a long sigh.

“Boss that bad, huh?”

“Something like that.”

Joe watched the pound cake bake then started the sauce.

“So how does a Harvard grad, with a degree in literature, become a food critic?”

Web smiled, “Believe it or not, it’s very difficult to do what you really want.”

“Not for me.” Joe laughs and if Web wasn’t so fascinated by the man, he might’ve been angry.

“Well, I really want to write, but I’d also like to not be homeless, so I do this.”

“Nah, you can’t do that Web. I’m going to go out on a limb and assume you haven’t written anything substantial about sharks since you started this job?”

Web looked shocked for a minute before he nodded.

“See, doing something you hate hinders your creativity, so now you can’t focus on what you want to do.”

“So what do you suggest I do?”

“Quit.”

Web laughs loudly, “Just like that? I’m into debt up to my ears and I can barely afford my what I have.”

“What? Parents didn’t pay for college?”

“Not when I told them I was majoring in Literature instead of Law like everyone expected me to.”

“So you paid for it by yourself?”

“I got help from the government and scholarships, but yeah. They still refuse to talk to me.”

Joe made a noise of consideration.

“You’re not what I expected Web.”

Web looked up and met Lieb’s eyes.

“I could say the same thing to you, Joe. Not many chefs or owners would be doing what you are now.”

Lieb winked, “I’m not most chefs.”

He came around the counter and placed the dessert in front of Web.

Something about Joe commanded attention and David couldn’t look away, not even at the impeccable dessert he was bound to rave about.

Lieb leaned in a little too close, but he may have snuck some shots of vodka while Web took his call. He was a little too attracted to Web, a critic for pete’s sake, and it shook him.

“And this is not most desserts.”

In that moment, nothing could have pulled Web away from Joe.

ASSHOLE CALLING. ASSHOLE CALLING. THERE’S AN ASSHOLE AND HE’S CALLING.

Unless, of course, your boss calls you.

Web pulls back, swears, and answers roughly, “What is it now?”

“Webster, that is not the way you address your boss.”

Web pulls the phone away from his ear while Sobel yells.

Joe’s laughing, but looks like he just missed something great, as he pulls a large bite of the dessert onto a spoon and lift it towards David’s mouth.

Web’s mouth opened in surprise and Joe smiled as he gently fed the dessert to the other man.

The noise that ripped out of Web’s throat could, at the very least, be described as pornographic.

Joe’s eyes widened and the spoon clattered onto the counter.

Joe slid off the stool and into Web’s space, just as Web had started the raise the phone back to his ear, his boss still screaming.

Joe’s hands were slowly reaching toward Web.

The phone reached Web’s ear and he came to a conclusion.

“I quit.”

He threw his phone down on the table and met Lieb’s lips with his own. It was a little off since they were both smiling, but it was perfect.

They eventually pulled away and rested their heads against one another.

Joe whispered gently, “How was that?”

David laughed and looked into Joe’s eyes before saying, “It was a little too sweet for my taste. I like something with a little more heat.”

Joe’s eyes darkened, “I can fix that for you, David.,” and tried to capture the critic’s lips once again, but Web pulled back with a laugh.

“No, seriously Joe, put a little chili powder on this or something.”

Lieb pushed Web playfully and went to clean the last of the dishes.

“Fuck you, Web.”

David shrugged as he took another bite, “Okay, but somewhere else. You have to think of the health code violations Joe.”

The dishes crashed in the back of the kitchen and Web laughed harder.

Web took the last bite of the dessert as Joe pulled him out of the seat, “It’s a good thing I live upstairs.”

[cathrynstreich]

The Power One: The Thread that Weaves Realty ONE Group Together Through Challenging Times and Beyond

Editor’s Note: This is the cover story in the June 2020 issue of RISMedia’s Real Estate magazine. Subscribe today.

“Waking Up to Win.” It’s an everyday kind of attitude. It’s how Realty ONE Group began, and it became their rallying cry during the global pandemic caused by the coronavirus (COVID-19) in the spring. The company’s focus was not just on surviving the days when the world was closed for business, but instead, thrusting the organization and the careers of its professionals into overdrive.

Do What We Always Do COVID-19 has had devastating effects, the most tragic of which is the loss of life. With it, the fast-spreading virus also brought fear, isolation and economic turmoil. But within this calamity, we saw the best of the human spirit as people turned their grief into determination—determination to see and do good, and a determination to persevere.

How do we turn our new and uncertain environment into success? How do we make it an opportunity to rise above and be better than we were before? To be the best of the best? These are questions Realty ONE Group leadership has consistently asked in its pursuit to be one of real estate’s most revered brands.

Believing that you start every day with a determination to win, work hard, stay humble and lift each other up is an everyday attitude for the company’s employees and growing band of affiliates around the U.S. and Canada. What started as a “coolture” of caring, success and fun has led to a charge to make Realty ONE Group one of the first real lifestyle brands in the industry.

More than just providing a product or service, a lifestyle brand works to inspire, guide and motivate people, actually affecting the consumer’s way of life. That’s a big goal, but the leadership team at Realty ONE Group is determined to reach it, and their resolve has only been strengthened through this event.

Because Realty ONE Group already had a mindset to persevere and win, there was no need to pivot at the onset of the crisis. Instead, it was full steam ahead.

Faith Over Fear Kuba Jewgieniew, CEO and founder of Realty ONE Group—which is celebrating its 15th anniversary—is the son of political refugees from Poland who immigrated to the United States decades ago. As a true sign of patriotism and gratitude for the opportunity to start a new, more prosperous life, Jewgieniew’s father joined the U.S. Army and was deployed to Korea in the 1950s.

“My parents worked hard, earned their way to happy and healthy lives and always treated people with the utmost respect,” says Jewgieniew. “This country gave my parents a chance, and we will forever be grateful.”

Founder Kuba Jewgieniew’s parents emigrated from Poland.

It’s a gratitude that has always led Jewgieniew to appreciate others, just like his counterpart on the executive team, Realty ONE Group’s President, Vinnie Tracey.

“This business has always been about the people for me,” says Tracey, who in his more than 35 years in real estate has built deeply personal relationships with professionals from all brands. “When your goal is to help people succeed no matter what, the environment you’re operating in doesn’t really change that.”

That’s why, when the virus began to take hold of our world, Realty ONE Group’s leadership and staff put a new plan in motion to help its real estate professionals settle in with a “Faith-Over-Fear” mantra. The goal was not just to help agents survive the pandemic and get to the other side, but to help them be better than they’d ever been before, busting through the doors as soon as they opened again.

“Worry doesn’t change anything; it really just clouds your mind with negativity,” says Jewgieniew. “It’s like sitting in a rocking chair—there’s a lot of activity, energy and motion, but zero progress.”

Progress is what the company was determined to make during a time when others would sit, watch and wait. Not only did Realty ONE Group sell more than a dozen franchises during the pandemic, the group also hosted virtual recruiting meetings open to all real estate pros. The approach was sensitive, given the timing, but direct, clearly demonstrating the YOU-first focus that is the crux of the company’s business model.

“Our model puts more money in the agent’s pocket while still providing unparalleled support,” says Mike Clear, Realty ONE Group’s chief operating officer. “While this situation came with a new set of challenges that none of us could have anticipated, our value proposition was put on display, and the response was spectacular.”

Clear oversees Realty ONE Group’s human resources, marketing, coaching and learning, and product and development teams, all of which were instrumental in moving the company forward during the last few months with new website launches, new training and a host of new marketing assets.

“It’s not about how you manage during these times,” says Clear. “It’s about having the foresight to know there will be new opportunities ahead as a result of your current experience. And we knew we’d be more than ready.”

Trailblazing ‘Always-On’ Communication It didn’t take long—no more than 10 days, in fact, before the first stay-at-home orders began to roll out—and the company began to act, launching Zoom Town Hall meetings for real estate professionals in the morning and for broker/owners and managers in the early afternoon. By now, Zoom meetings are the norm, but Realty ONE Group was one of the first in the industry to host them and, per the company’s coolture, all real estate professionals were welcome. The calls consistently averaged between 500 and 600 for the agent Town Hall and 100 for the broker/owner and manager version.

Zoom Town Hall meetings

The Town Halls were meant to inspire and drive success, featuring experts and motivators from inside and outside the industry. One of the more popular calls, garnering more than 1,000 attendees, was a chat with U.S. Navy SEAL Rob O’Neill, who was credited with killing Osama bin Laden. His lively conversation with Jewgieniew and team was pure insight into how to persevere in traumatic situations.

But the company also showed off its true, dynamic coolture, kicking off each call with a DJ and lively music while attendees got to see the personalities of Realty ONE Group’s leadership who joined every call, every day.

“This is who we are. This is our coolture and what makes us different from the others, and we were grateful for the opportunity to let others experience it firsthand,” says Jewgieniew. “We love what we do, and we have such a respect and love for each other. We are ONE community, and I think that was more obvious now than ever.”

Seeing that its professionals were hungry for more, Realty ONE Group launched a new website called “Waking Up to Win,” which hosts daily podcasts, transcripts from all the calls, a free business plan, motivational videos, and more. The site also includes a link to Realty ONE Group’s comprehensive, proprietary learning platform, ONE University (ONE.U), so that agents outside the network can access thousands of courses and training for free for 30 days.

“We pushed the non-essential aside and became laser-focused on delivering every asset, training, guide or plan our professionals would need to keep doing business and doing business in a big way,” says Clear. “The key was to not look at a pause in real estate as downtime. If anything, we kicked it up a notch so that our agents could do the same.”

Giving—More Important Than Ever During the pandemic, many people missed out on important birthdays, anniversaries, weddings and more, but so many still found a way to celebrate. Similarly, Realty ONE Group was set to mark its 15th anniversary on May 1 with its traditional ONE Day, a company-wide day of volunteering in the community. ONE Day is just one important part of the company’s overall spirit of giving, orchestrated through its ONE Cares, 501(c)3 philanthropic arm.

ONE Day, a day to volunteer and give

But social distancing and stay-at-home orders wouldn’t deter the rapidly-growing franchisor from giving back, and so, Realty ONE Group launched a special ONE Day webpage that featured 15 ways—a nod to its 15th anniversary—to virtually make an impact and do things for others. The company then engaged its broad-reaching network to share how they’re making a difference for others using the hashtag #GiveONEBack.

“Our real estate professionals and offices are doing this every day in the communities they serve, but it’s now more important than ever to reach out and help,” says Jewgieniew. “The need continues to be great, which means we have to do more than our part to help each other, support our partners in local business and to be as charitable and gracious as we can possibly be.”

For that reason, and in honor of Mental Health Month, Realty ONE Group made a May 1st donation of $11,111 to the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI). The organization works to build better lives for the millions of Americans affected by mental illness.

The company is so very proud of its track record of giving, including another $11,111 donation last Fall to the Beverly Carter Foundation, which works to keep all real estate professionals safe. Realty ONE Group made an on-the-spot donation at the RISMedia Power Broker Dinner in November, moved by the foundation’s founder and son of Beverly Carter, Carl Carter Jr., who was being recognized that evening. The company now vows to support Carter and the foundation as much as it can and even hosted a walk/run down the Las Vegas strip during its annual ONE Summit in March to raise the visibility of the foundation.

2020 ONE Walk for the Beverly Carter Foundation

“It would be amazing to love each other more, because greed and hate are absurd,” says Jewgieniew. “We’re proud to support the Beverly Carter Foundation, as their mission is bigger than one brand. It’s about all of us. We’re all in this together, just as we are now.”

The hashtag #GiveONEBack was shared widely during May along with a short video the company produced thanking healthcare professionals and frontline workers. The two-minute video was a short story about the world needing superheroes and was narrated by an adorable collection of the children of Realty ONE Group families who ended the piece by thanking heroes around the world.

Jewgieniew at Summit 2020 in Las Vegas, Nev.

A Spirit That Thrives Jewgieniew has proven himself to be a fierce innovator and relentless entrepreneur who refuses to abide by norms or cower to challenges. His faith in himself, the company and others is endearing, but it’s also the spirit that inspires a network of more than 13,000 Realty ONE Group professionals in over 42 states and two Canadian provinces.

Combined with Tracey’s decades of real estate experience, which included the literal implosion of the housing market in 2008, and a seasoned leadership team with a diverse background, the group knew they would not be a company swallowed up by another after a potential economic collapse. Encouraged by the resilience and determination of their own franchisees, they viewed every day as an opportunity to deliver something valuable.

“We left no stone unturned when it came to coaching our offices and real estate professionals on how to conduct business virtually while preparing for an open and lively summer housing market,” says Clear. “The topics for the day were driven by the network. They asked, and we responded, finding subject matter to coach them through everything from expanding their digital footprint to budget planning.”

Each town hall also offered words of encouragement and support along with new definitions of faith like, “Finding Answers in the Heart” or “Another One.” Realty ONE Group is not a company that shies away from loving and supporting each other like family.

Jewgieniew would conclude emails to employees and managers with simple words like “a healthy mind is a healthy life.” The company avoided laying anyone off, and while thanking their team for their continued work, also encouraged its staff to find time to go outside, enjoy the sun and clean air and bonus time with their families.

It’s something Jewgieniew, and now the entire company, refers to as “The Power of ONE.”

“Sharing in each other’s successes and believing in ONE another to make the entire network stronger, better…that’s the Power of ONE,” says Jewgieniew.

Realty ONE Group can now safely say that this spirit prevails even in the most trying and isolating times.

What’s Now, What’s Next Throughout the crisis, Jewgieniew has referred to the pandemic as a reset, not making light of the devastating challenges and loss many families have faced. But it has been a reset of our lives, helping us reprioritize, hold onto the things that are near and dear, appreciate everything we have, big or small, and know that human connection is something to be cherished.

“What’s now, what’s next,” is a favorite saying of Jewgieniew, finding its way into business planning, events and even the company’s marketing. This is because it’s a constant focus for him.

Realty ONE Group’s active booth at NAR 2019

“To find the new has become my passion and almost my profession over the years,” he says. “If it has the potential to change the lives of many for the better, then I want to know about it and be involved.”

In its 15 years of tremendous growth and bucking all real estate norms as the industry’s “UNBrokerage,” Realty ONE Group has changed many lives for the better, and they’re not done yet.

“I’ve only accomplished about 5 percent of my vision for this company and for real estate,” says Jewgieniew. “As always, the future depends on what you do today, and our future couldn’t be bigger, brighter and bolder.”

To find out how you can be a part of ONE of the fastest growing real estate franchisors today, visit www.realtyonegroup.com.

Paige Tepping is RISMedia’s managing editor. Email her your real estate news ideas to paige@rismedia.com.

The post The Power One: The Thread that Weaves Realty ONE Group Together Through Challenging Times and Beyond appeared first on RISMedia.

The Power One: The Thread that Weaves Realty ONE Group Together Through Challenging Times and Beyond published first on https://thegardenresidences.tumblr.com/

[saadullah-faisal-world]

If New York City wasn’t under a strict stay-at-home order right now, protesters might be marching along Central Park. That’s where an evangelical Christian organization called Samaritan’s Purse is preparing to open a makeshift COVID-19 ward. The 60-bed emergency field hospital is composed largely of tarp-wrapped tents and will function as a respiratory unit servicing overflow patients from Mount Sinai Hospital.Some New York residents have criticized Samaritan’s Purse’s presence, citing their spotty record in the field and expressing fears that the conservative religious group’s beliefs could even open the door to substandard care or discrimination. City Mayor Bill de Blasio admitted he was “very concerned” about the operation and was sending people from his office to monitor Samaritan’s Purse.As a result, conservative Christians exploded on social media, citing the controversy as further proof that their faith is under attack by intolerant liberals and coastal elites who care little about human life.Andrew Walker, a professor at Southern Baptist Seminary, tweeted, “Cultural decadence is allowing intersectionality to determine the acceptability of emergency response.” And Peter Hasson, a Catholic editor for conservative news site The Daily Caller, tweeted, “If you’re getting mad at the people taking care of the sick during a pandemic, maybe consider the fact that you’re not the good guy in this story.”As my therapist often reminds me, the human brain is capable of understanding that two things can be true at the same time. In this case, a person can believe that the brave doctors and nurses currently deploying to Central Park to help combat this terrible virus are brave and necessary and also believe that the organization chosen to manage the work of these doctors and nurses is deeply problematic. Holding both of these ideas in your mind at the same time doesn’t make you a bad person; it demonstrates that you’re a thinking person. We’re in the midst of a public-health crisis and must take an all-hands-on-deck approach to caring for the sick.And upon closer inspection, New Yorkers have plenty of good reasons to feel uncomfortable about this new coronavirus hospital.Of chief concern is the person overseeing the Central Park ward: Samaritan’s Purse’s president and CEO Franklin Graham. He is the son of famed evangelist Billy Graham and a spiritual adviser to President Donald Trump who has a surprisingly long history of controversial comments and hate speech.Graham seems to harbor a special level of disdain for followers of Islam, which he characterizes as a “wicked and evil religion” that encourages adherents to beat their wives and murder their disobedient children. In 2015, he recommended banning all Muslims from immigrating to America and suggested our government treat them like the Japanese and German during World War II. As rationale, he argued that Muslims have “the potential to be radicalized” and participate in “killing to honor their religion and Muhammed.”That’s the man running Samaritan’s Purse’s coronavirus hospital, so yes, Muslim New Yorkers are right to be skeptical.Graham’s hate speech is also often aimed at LGBTQ people. He has called same-sex marriages “detestable” and has drummed up fear toward gays and lesbians—whom he believes should burn in hell—by claiming they want to “drag an immoral agenda into our communities.” In an article that has mysteriously disappeared from the Decision Magazine website, Graham wrote that the architect of the LGBTQ rights movement was “none other than Satan himself.” And when Vladimir Putin initiated a violent crackdown on LGBTQ rights in Russia, it sparked a wave of beatings, abduction, public humiliation and other forms of violence against sexual minorities there. Graham responded by praising Putin’s policy, lauding the authoritarian leader for “[protecting] his nation’s children from the damaging effects of any gay and lesbian agenda.”Given such history, it makes complete sense that Mount Sinai Hospital asked Samaritan’s Purse to “sign a written pledge to treat all patients equally.”Some conservative Christians have dismissed this as harassment, claiming that a scenario in which evangelicals discriminated against gays and lesbians is ridiculous to imagine. But our fair city has a long memory. We remember all the gay men who fled communities across America where evangelicals pastors condemned them as “abominations” and found safe harbor in New York. We remember that when masses of them contracted HIV/AIDS and filled our hospital beds, evangelical preachers on TV called it God’s judgment. We remember Jerry Falwell and the religious right lobbying against HIV research and relief in the '90s, leading to untold deaths.All this occurred in my lifetime, and I am only 37. So please pardon New Yorkers if they feel uneasy, given American evangelicals’ often-unacknowledged track record coupled with Graham’s comments, and want to take some minor precautions to ensure all citizens are protected. Gay, lesbian, and transgender New Yorkers are right to be skeptical.Even some conservative Christians who’ve acknowledged the disturbing nature of Graham’s comments have attacked Samaritan’s Purse’s critics for intolerance. Anyone should be able to help anyone in this time, the argument goes. It’s wrong to prevent people from serving the sick. I totally agree; but Samaritan’s Purse does not. The organization is requiring that all personnel serving in its pop-up hospital be Christians who agree to Samaritan’s Purse’s 11-point “Statement of Faith,” which includes the beliefs that non-Christians will burn in hell and that same-sex relationships are sinful.It’s unsurprising, if lamentable, that a Christian aid group would turn away a Buddhist doctor looking to help its efforts. But if a lung doctor shows up in Central Park with the knowledge and experience to save lives, she could be sent home if she happens to be a liberal Episcopalian who voted for Hillary Clinton and supports marriage equality.If it is wrong to quibble over who is fit to help save lives in the middle of a crisis, then we must admit that Samaritan’s Purse is no better than its critics. The group’s defenders are correct, however, that the organization has laudably worked to meet emergency needs in crisis regions since its founding. They have accomplished much good in places like Kosovo, Sudan, Somalia, and Darfur. But their record is not unblemished, and many in the humanitarian world have questioned the quality of some of Samaritan’s Purse’s work.After USAID gave Samaritan’s Purse a large grant to help victims of the earthquake in El Salvador, they were disturbed to learn that the Christian group “blurred the lines between church and state” by using funds to evangelize victims instead of just help them. An official with Samaritan’s Purse dismissed the criticism by claiming, “We are first a Christian organization and second an aid organization.”That wasn’t the first time such blurring occurred, however. During the first Gulf War, respected U.S. General Norman Schwarzkopf publicly criticized the group for trying to coerce American troops serving in Saudi Arabia to covertly distribute Arab-language Bibles under the guise of humanitarian work. And Samaritan’s Purse’s popular “Operation Christmas Child” has recently been drawn fire when people learned that the holiday shoeboxes given to poor children in non-Christian families around the world were stuffed with Christian evangelism materials.The vast majority of New Yorkers are not Christian, and if they find themselves wheezing for air due to COVID-19, they don’t want to be proselytized while receiving treatment. They too have reason to be skeptical of the organization’s makeshift hospital.“This is what Samaritan’s Purse does—we respond in the middle of crises to help people in Jesus’ Name. Please pray for our teams and for everyone around the world affected by the virus,” Graham declared in a press release announcing the ward.None of Samaritan’s Purse’s detractors have argued that the Central Park ward should be shuttered or that the organization be barred from offering care. And no one is casting aspersions on the many courageous health-care professionals who will put their lives at risk when this hospital opens. Most agree with the letter from Mount Sinai staff and doctors—at least one of whom is LGBTQ—that concerns about Samaritan’s Purse, while valid, must be set aside at the moment because “the higher mission at present is to preserve human life.”To this, I say “yes and.” New Yorkers can admit that Samaritan’s Purse should have a role to play in this vital work, and they can also acknowledge the many valid reasons that might make vulnerable and marginalized residents a little more than nervous.—Jonathan Merritt is a contributing writer for The Atlantic and author of Learning to Speak God from Scratch: Why Sacred Words are Vanishing—And How We Can Revive Them.Read more at The Daily Beast.Got a tip? Send it to The Daily Beast hereGet our top stories in your inbox every day. 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