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• & Other Stories Paris Atelier Black/Gold Polka Dot Midi Dress (Size US 2 / EUR 34) $50 $40 $30 $25 new no tags
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• & Other Stories Stockholm Atelier Black Oversized Button-Up Shirt (Size US 2 / EUR 34) $25 $20 $15 used in excellent condition
• Aritzia Jimmy Pant (Size US S) $25 $20 very lightly used in excellent condition
• Free People Earth Toned Floral Good Vibrations Blouse (Size US/UK S) $50 $30 $20 very lightly used in excellent condition
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There are several moments over the season where the difference between the boys has become really apparent, and I think it offers insight into their characters, their flaws, and their interactions.
In 3x04, Clark asks both the boys not to bother their mother so she can recover from chemo. We know that. Both the boys leave and have their own interactions out in Smallville before arriving back. But notice how differently they arrive back. Jon comes home with a black eye "the size of Australia" (lol), and yet tries to hide it and just go upstairs so no one can see. I liked that Lois saw through that immediately, it's good parent instinct that she can literally feel Jon was hiding something. But I don't think it was just about heeding Clark's instructions not to bother Lois. Jon wanted to hide the issue entirely and deal with it on his own and Lois has to pry it out of him.
Later Jordan arrives, vehemently exclaiming about his issue (which is honestly much less important or severe than Jonathan's) before he is even through the door. That Sam wants him to get a haircut. It wasn't about disregarding Clark's instructions there either. Jordan was okay with sharing his issues, and was clearly eager to do so with the family.
This isn't a post about how Jordan is prioritized in the family, that's not the tune I'm singing. We've seen too many of those lately. It's about how the each of the boys feel about themselves, their issues, and their place in the family. Jordan obviously felt comfortable enough to share his problem with the rest of the family, while Jon tried to hide his. Perhaps Jon feels that his own issues don't matter with all the bigger stuff happening all the time (no, I'm not saying Jon has been ignored, I'm saying he feels like his own issues don't matter). Clark and Lois have to pry it out of him and then they prove to him that his issues do matter. Jordan doesn't seem to have that problem with sharing his issues, maybe because he's used to having his family involved in helping him figure them out (again, not trying to sing the whole "favoritism, Jordan is the priority" song there).
Jordan was a kid with social anxiety, and as he grew up his parents put in a lot of effort to make him comfortable with being open to others. As Clark said in the pilot, Jon was the easy one. What Clark may not have realized is that perhaps Jon made it seem easy, by hiding his own issues to help Jordan. We've heard that Jon has always had Jordan's back for their entire lives, and he even agreed to move to Smallville to help him. This was a decision that cost Jon heavily, as not only did he leave his friends and his then-girlfriend behind, he left behind a position as starting quarterback at one of the most competitive high schools in the nation. You realize how important that is? That could have made Jon's entire life, since if he had excelled there (which he most likely would have) it would have led to incredible things for him. Scholarships, playing at the college level, and even potential to join the NFL one day. People dream about that kind of stuff, and he left all that behind. Clearly it did weigh on him. In 1x02 we see that Jon isn't too happy, but he was keeping it to himself for everyone else's sake, and Lois was the only one who realized what Jon felt.
Jordan meanwhile brings up every issue he has so it can get solved, and he has an inability to let things go, whether it's issues with family, or pining over Sarah. Jon seems to be good with that from what we've seen, as he can let go of issues a whole lot faster than Jordan. Jon left behind a lot in Metropolis, and only got mad about it after quite some time (1x05, when his emotions finally boiled over). He also had his arm broken by Jordan, yet forgave him within two days. So perhaps Jon's major flaw is that he's too forgiving of others. As for Jordan, well it's being unable to let things go. He still acts weird around Sarah and does the "sadboy" act a lot. We've seen other examples of this from Jordan, where he is often the brother to press an issue with their parents, while Jon or Lois sometimes have to tell him to back off. But I don't wanna go and list all of them. I've already said some examples from this season above. So, I think that because of this flaw of his, he isn't fully ready to become a fully-fledged Superboy yet. There's still an element of selfishness in his character, whereas Clark was always depicted to be mostly selfless in his desire to use his powers to be a hero. I think powers-wise Jordan is ready to be a hero, but he hasn't quite matured yet to where he can handle the job.
I think it has become more and more apparent that while Jordan inherited Superman's powers, Jonathan inherited his inner good nature. The scene where Jon talks with Sophie gave off that vibe. It was sort of a lower stakes version of the classic comics panel where Superman talks someone off the ledge using his words instead of forcefully grabbing them away. They even adapted that scene in 3x02 when Lois did it.
Meanwhile Jordan has slowly become a little more cocky and arrogant. I think some part of Jordan looks down on Jon's desire to work at the fire station as some pedestrian attempt at being a hero like him and Clark. It seemed to already be formed in his mind, as we saw he spat that out when arguing with Jon. One thing I noticed was that his behavior bears some resemblance to Jon-El. We saw in the flashbacks showing Jon-El's past that while he began as a genuine hero wanting to help people, he slowly became more and more cocky and arrogant, to the point where he butted heads with his father a lot. Jon-El also put his brother down a lot, looking down at him. This eventually drove him away from his family. I've seen slight resemblances now between him and Jordan, that Jordan too has a desire to help people, but he also has been acting rather cocky about his powers and progress.
Both times that Jon tried to talk about his progress at the station with his parents, Jordan literally flies in to interrupt. Jon never got to celebrate the new shirt (which represented a success for him) with his family, and Jordan didn't seem to realize that the shirt was a real milestone for Jon. I think all that combined with Jon's conversation with Sophie is meant to clearly highlight that Jon does feel undervalued in his family. And he takes it really well, with far more maturity for his age. But it's possible his patience is wearing thin, finally. His argument with Jordan was probably one of the worst they've had, and we saw how icy he was with Jordan in since, to the point where Sarah had to push them into making amends.
Finally, in 3x10 we see that Jordan was never exactly invited to the party, he heard about it and it was his decision to go. Jon was the one who received the text from Sarah, not Jordan, and Jon even pointed out that it was because Jordan just keeps pining over Sarah, and that it was getting annoying. At the party, Jordan immediately goes to Sarah, and Sarah has to later tell him bluntly that his "sadboy" act was really annoying. Now here, Jordan says he wished he never fell in love with Sarah, and Sarah says she thinks the same. I have some thoughts about this. First, Jordan's infatuation with Sarah doesn't feel like love to me (perhaps it was love at some point, but isn't anymore). It feels more like obsession. A comparison I can make is from Harry Potter, with Lily Evans and Severus Snape. We hear a lot at the end that Snape loved Lily, but the way I see it, he loved the idea of her instead of herself. His patronus changes to be the same as hers, signifying that he is more obsessed with her than in love, while James Potter's is a stag, signifying he was more of a match for her. I think Jordan at this point is simply obsessed with Sarah, in love with the idea of her, but Sarah isn't the same person anymore. Lily and Snape were really close, similar to Jordan and Sarah (though not the same) and it seems both girls grew out of that while the guys couldn't.
Jordan drinks at the party. Sure, it was just half a beer, and it probably had little effect on him due to his physiology, since Clark isn't affected by alcohol. But that isn't what's bad about it, it's that Jordan was irresponsible enough to do that, and Jordan is irresponsible like that, he definitely isn't ready for a responsibility bearing any resemblance to Clark's. He also lied to Clark's face beforehand. When Clark is chewing Jordan out, Jordan isn't even willing to accept that. He keeps trying to put focus on how he saved two people's lives, and Clark isn't having any of it. When Jordan realizes he's not, he just argues back, knowing he's in the wrong, but unwilling to accept it. He keeps saying that it doesn't matter because he later saved lives. So it kinda looks to me that Jordan views normal things such as being grounded as beneath him. This kind of extends off the idea that Jordan's become more cocky and arrogant because of his powers. And when he argues, it isn't even a reasonable discussion. Jordan starts saying some kinda hurtful stuff. He's throwing a tantrum, a fit, and Clark has to send him up to his room. The interaction left both Clark and Jordan angry, and we see when Jonathan arrives that Clark is still in angry dad mode.
The difference between the boys is more striking when Jon does arrive. Now, admittedly Jon isn't in exactly the same position as Jordan. He didn't drink, but he was the one who primarily lied to Clark's face (Jordan merely backed him). We see when Jon arrives that Clark is still angry, to where he right away speeds up and takes Jon's keys, then starting the conversation with an angry yell. Jon handles all this with much more maturity, and admits that he was wrong to lie to Clark, but explains himself in an honest, mature, and calm way. This works well enough that it diffuses Clark's anger and he too simmers down to have an actual conversation. Clark says he just wants to spend time with the boys because they're growing up so fast, and Jon points out that it's more on him for not being able to. He doesn't sound like he's blaming Clark, he's just saying that it isn't so simple. Not only is Clark busy, but both boys have their own lives and aren't just going to sit around and wait for him. Jon words all this to where his message is heard, but he isn't being hurtful about it. He's telling it to him straight, in a mature and honest tone, and when Clark is silent, he knows he's won, but doesn't try to be mean about it. He asks for his keys back, and goes inside.
The show has done a great job this season showing the differences between the boys. How Jordan has the powers while Jon has the maturity. And seeing how differently the boys handle Clark makes that more clear. Jordan was the first to get back and talk to Clark, so Clark was in an amicable mood that goes downhill when he learns what Jordan was up to. And Jordan further ruins that by arguing back. Jon arrives and receives all of Clark's anger right at the start, but handles the situation and diffuses it well.
​
Edit: Here's what I'm hoping for next episode. Kyle now knows the secret, but is obviously gonna be mad that everyone close to him lied to him for so long. Personally, I'm on his side there since by now he's become one of my favorite side characters. I'm hoping things with Jon's job get smoothed over once an honest conversation is had and Kyle understands everything. Now, Jordan's actions were what actually led to Clark being forced to reveal his secret to Kyle. I'm hoping that is addressed. That, combined with Jordan the disrespect Jordan had in 3x10, and hopefully with how he almost cost Jon his job (I hope that is finally revealed to Clark and Lois), and Jordan is in real trouble. I also hope Kyle and Jon have a conversation, as with Kyle knowing the secret, the way he sees Jon will be different, and I hope Kyle asks what Jon's motivations are on why he wants to be a firefighter.

When the old man got within range, John kicked at him with his good leg, but the old timer was quick, much quicker than he looked. He ducked to his right, side stepping John's lashing foot, then darted in and touched the tip of the prod to John's leg. Fire--that's what it felt like. White hot fire. A jolt went through John's body that made his eyeballs hurt. And just like that, the old man slipped in again and jabbed him in the stomach. Then, as John rolled onto his belly, the tip touched his back.
John curled into a ball and hugged his knees to his chest.
"Get through that door, boy," the old man said. "Move it, now!" Like herding an ornery animal.
And like an animal, John Burke responded, lifting himself onto all fours and crawling toward the exit. Halfway across the floor, the old man jammed the cattle prod against John's ass. He cried out and scampered through the door.
As soon they were out of the room, the old man clicked his cheek a couple of times like he was calling a dog. "Get on your feet, like a good boy." John struggled to his feet as the door closed behind him and the bolts slammed into place. He stood at one end of a narrow passage, dark, except for a single bulb hanging from the ceiling at the far end. Again, John felt the prod touch his back.
"Get!" the old man said.
John limped toward the light.
The passage emptied into a windowless room, low ceilinged and big. The old man forced him into a chute--a cattle chute. Horizontal steel poles on each side formed a walkway barely wide enough for a man's shoulders. The poles were stacked four high, the top pole about five feet off the ground. Every six or eight feet stood a vertical brace.
The old man closed and locked a sliding wooden door behind them, then bent and slipped between two of the horizontal poles. Outside the chute, he prodded John to keep him moving. As John walked toward the end, the old man thumped him two or three times with the prod but didn't shock him.
Suddenly, an overpowering stench hit John and his feet stopped moving. He looked to the right, toward the source of the smell, and saw a stainless steel table, on top of which lay a man's lifeless body. He was on his belly with his head turned and John could see the face of the man who'd been goaded out of the room just before him. The white-haired old lady stood beside the table gripping an electric carving knife in one latexed hand, while with her other gloved hand she pressed the man's leg firmly against the table. Bile gurgled up into John's throat as the old lady thumbed the switch on the carving knife and sliced a hunk of meat from the back of the dead man's thigh.
John spewed vomit and dropped to his knees. "Get up, boy," he heard from behind him as the prod juiced his lower back. John screamed in pain as he staggered to his feet. "Move it," the old man said. With legs like jelly, John stumbled forward.
The cut he'd worked into the leather belt was just to the right of the steel loop through which the handcuffs ran. Only an eighth of an inch of leather remained. Using his body, John shielded his hands from the old man's view while he tugged on the handcuffs and hobbled along.
The sides of the chute closed in on him as he reached the end. Near panic, John tried to turn around, but before he could the old man slid a gate closed behind him that penned him in.
Trapped.
From the corner of his eye, John watched the old man. Saw him step towards a workbench against the wall, fifteen feet away, and toss the cattle prod onto it. He pulled a ballpeen hammer down from a wall above the bench. It had a big stainless steel head with a foot long wooden handle. The old man turned and walked toward John with a casual, bored look on his face, just another day in the slaughterhouse.
Bent as far forward as he could, John thrust his hips back and jerked his cuffed hands forward, but the leather belt held. Behind him he heard the old man's shoes scrape the cement floor. Desperate, John twisted his hands to the right. The leather still held. Just an eighth of an inch between a chance for escape and a hammer to the back of the head.
A shoe scuff on the floor. Afraid to look, John stared at his hands. He groaned as he thrust his hips to the right and jerked his hands to the left. The leather tore and the belt pulled free from his waist.
"Where you think you're going?" the old man said.
John ducked and heard the top pole ring as the ballpeen hammer glanced off of it. With the belt still dangling from his handcuffs, John doubled over and stepped between the two middle poles on his left side. To his right the old man cursed him and swung the hammer between the bars. The hammer thumped into John's right hip but he didn't stop. Once through the bars he ran--hobbled on his painful ankle--toward the wall, trying to put as much distance between him and the old man as possible.
"Momma, momma, he got loose!"
"Catch him quick 'fore he gets away," the old lady screamed.
John Burke was lost. He didn't know where he was our how to get out. He turned, saw the old man race around the end of the chute, hammer cocked over his shoulder. John's back was to the wall. Wildly, he glanced around for something he could use. There was nothing.
To his left, twenty feet away was the corner of the room and a closed door.
The old man saw John looking. "You'll never get out." But he slowed down, approaching cautiously, angling toward the door to cut off John's only escape route.
The old man looked nervous about the door. John broke and ran. Waves of pain shot up his leg from his swollen ankle but he ignored it. The old man lunged toward the door to intercept. John tried to stop and start, throw a fake at the old man, but his ankle folded and he hit the floor.
The old man dropped to one knee beside him and raised the hammer over his head. "Got you!"
But as the killer blow came down, John shifted slightly to the side and the hammer struck the cement beside his head, sending tiny chips flying into his face. He lashed out with his good foot, missed the old man's head but caught him in the ribs. As the old man grunted and toppled over, John got to his feet and struggled to the door.
Locked.
John twisted the knob and screamed in rage. The old man stood up. Mounted on the wall next to the door was a gray metal circuit box, the handle protruding from its side angled up in the on position. An electrical shut off.
"Get him, poppy," the old woman screamed from the other side of the room. A nice old couple who called each other momma and poppy.
John grabbed the handle with both hands, shot a glance at the old man, saw him bearing down, and pulled.
Lights out. Total darkness.
Just in time John ducked. He heard the old man grunt as the hammer dug into the drywall. With his manacled hands, John shoved the old man, then ran along the wall to his left. Moving through the dark it felt like a mile. The old lady screamed.
Cuffed hands out in front with the torn leather belt dangling from them, John ran into the wall and turned right. He had no idea where to go or what to do. Just knew he had to put as much distance as he could between him and the old man. At the next corner he turned right again. Just up ahead he heard the old lady. "Poppy, I can't see."
He slowed down, tried to catch his breath. Then the lights came on. Poppy must have gotten to the switch. John found himself next to the stainless steel butchering table, and face-to-face with the old lady. With the power on, her electric carving knife started buzzing.
"I got him, poppy!" she said and chopped at him with the knife.
John jerked his head back as the humming blade passed less than an inch from his eyes.
"Momma!" the old man screamed.
John looked across the big room at the old man by the door. Hammer swinging from his hand, he started to run towards them but had to go around the cattle chute. The old lady again cut at John but this time he managed to catch her wrist in his hands. As he kicked her in the shin he heard one of his bare toes crack, but she loosened her grip on the knife and he was able to jerk it out of her hand.
The old man rounded the end of the chute and howled in rage as he saw them struggling. Momma clawed at John's eyes with both hands, but he managed to close them just as her nails raked his face. Carving knife in hand, he slashed at the old lady. The vibrating blade ripped into the side of her neck and cut across her throat. She gurgled up a foul smelling blast of air from her open trachea that made John gag. With her eyes wide open, the old lady looked stunned as her knees folded and she collapsed to the ground.
John Burke turned and the old man was right on top of him, screaming, swinging the hammer at his head. As John raised the carving knife, the hammer snapped the blade off and knocked it from his hand. The old man lunged closer, grabbed him by the throat with his left hand and raised the hammer again.
John threw an awkward jab with his shackled hands and hit the old man in the face with just enough force to stun him into losing his grip on John's neck. Then with a two-handed uppercut to the gut, this one with a little more behind it, he doubled the old man over, then ran for the door.
Standing in front of the door, he jerked down the power switch and again shrouded the room in darkness. He raised his good leg and kicked the wooden door as hard as he could. It gave just a little. Behind him he heard the old man crying, and something else--things being knocked over, things hitting the floor, the sounds of searching.
As John kicked again, his bad ankle screamed in pain, yet still the door held. He caught his breath, raised his good leg and managed one more kick. This time the knob splintered off and the door flew open. Stairs led up.
Behind him, a two-count metallic click echoed through the room. The unmistakable sound of a shell being chambered. A shotgun.
Fighting back the pain, John loped up the stairs as the shotgun blasted behind him. Upstairs he found himself in an empty kitchen. He moved down a short hallway that opened into a room he recognized, the den of the old lady's house. It was dark outside and only a few lights were on inside the house.
Footsteps on the cellar stairs.
Frantically, John looked around, seeing the big bay windows, but no door to the outside. He knocked the dead telephone to the ground, snatched up the end table, and heaved it through one of the windows.
Outside the air was warm and muggy, the ground soft like after a rain. Naked, except for the handcuffs and leather belt hanging from them, John staggered toward the woods just beyond the house. As he reached the first trees he heard another shotgun blast behind him, heard glass shatter, heard pellets tearing through the trees to his right.
Into the trees, getting some of them between him and the house in case the old man ripped off another shot.
"Murderer! I'll kill you," the old timer yelled through the trees. Almost funny, a minute ago the old man trying to bash his brains in with a hammer but still had the nerve to call him a murderer. Not to mention the sweet old lady carving a man like a Christmas turkey.
John turned forty-five degrees to the right. Choosing a zig-zag over a straight line. A minute later he heard another shot, then the pellets ripped into the branches off to his left. A frustration shot. The old man had guessed he'd turn but he'd guessed the wrong way.
He'd gotten out of shape. Just a few minutes into the woods he was puffing like a steam train, a stitch like a knife twisting into his side. John could feel his ankle starting to swell. Time for the zag so he turned left, crossed through what he guessed was fifty or sixty yards of woods, then suddenly burst into a clearing--the cemetery. The high three-quarter moon cast short, dark shadows from the tombstones. Blackness in a sea of night.
Something crashed through the brush behind him in the distance, followed by bark of a big dog. John had trouble as he stepped over the low spiked fence that surrounded the graveyard. For a second he had to put all of his weight on his bad leg and came close to impaling himself.
John remembered another fence, a six-foot iron one that spanned the front of the property, the half-inch thick bars thrust at the sky like black spears. If it circled the whole property, how the hell was he going to get out?
The barking grew louder.
As he limped between the gravestones, John heard the old man cursing in the distance, farther away than the dog, but getting closer. Terror's icy hand gripped John Burke's heart. His feet stopped moving and he dropped down onto a soft, moist patch of earth and leaned his back against a marble slab that marked someone's final resting place, someone whose troubles were over for good. John put his head into his hands as despair washed over him.
He wasn't going to get away. Not on a bad ankle. Not with his hands cuffed. Not from a madman with a dog and shotgun. A madman who kept humans like cattle, who beat men to death with a hammer, whose wife ran a human butcher shop. They were close, the old man and his dog. John could hear the dog tearing through the underbrush just inside the woods, just beyond the cemetery fence. In a minute it would all be over. He wondered if Gail would ever find out what happened to him? To die like this, in a bone yard, victim to a crazy old man and his even crazier wife.
Fear, despair, hopelessness--these feelings surged through John as a sob racked his body so hard it bounced his back off the marble tombstone and shot a bolt of pain down his spine. Then, as if cleansed by fire, those feelings melted like snow, replaced by something new, by something better, by something that fueled him--Rage.
Perched in front of the grave next to him was a thick marble urn, holding a bouquet of long dead flowers. John rolled to it, grabbed the urn in both hands, and dumped out the withered flora. He felt the comforting weight of the urn, heavy enough to crush a dog's skull, or a man's.
He wasn't going to make it easy. If they were going to kill him, they'd have to work for it. The headstones were too small to hide behind unless he crouched down and John didn't want to crouch down and hide. He was through hiding, besides, his ankle couldn't take much crouching. Better to let the dog see him, try to get rid of the mutt before the old man made it out of the woods.
The underbrush got quiet. The dog was out of the woods. No more barking. The moonlight and the shadows played tricks on John's eyes. A glimpse of movement at the fence then nothing. He strained his eyes, willing them to see through the darkness but it was his ears that responded, picking up the quick thumping of padded feet on the wet grass. The sound coming from his left. John raised the urn and turned, then heard it behind him, much closer. A throaty growl. He tried to spin around but the furry beast hit him in the back.
Claws raked his bare shoulder blades as he slammed face first into the ground and the marble urn flew from his hands, useless. Sharp teeth gripped the back of his head and shook it like the stuffed head of a doll. His scalp tore--he actually felt it--as the dog growled and bit harder.
"Get him, boy!" the old man shouted from somewhere near the edge of the woods.
John used his good left leg to push into the ground and roll. The dog tightened its grip on John's head and tried to roll with him but John used his arms to topple the German Shepherd off of him. As the brute tried to regain his feet, John kept rolling until he was on top with the dog pinned under him. The canine's jaws sprung open, looking for something to bite as John grabbed the animal's big head, one hand on each side, and forced the handcuff chain and part of the leather belt into the back of its mouth.
With his naked body pressing down on the dog, John forced the Shepherd's head back. The handcuff chain cut into the roof of the dog's mouth as John pushed back harder and harder. The beast's nails ripped at John's chest and thighs, but still he forced the big head back until the dog's agonized yelping was cut short by a loud crack, like the dry snap of a rotten branch, as its neck broke and body went limp.
John rolled off of the dead dog and struggled to his feet. The old man yelled, "Did you get him, Butch? Did you get him?" John turned toward the sound of the man's voice and saw him stumble out of the woods, just on the other side of the fence, shotgun held across his chest. The old man's eyes locked on the animal lying on the ground. "Butch!" he cried, voice cracked with emotion Then he raised his shotgun.
John dropped behind a headstone just as a blast ripped through the air. Pellets smacked into the other side of the stone. Then, as the double click of a new shell being racked into the chamber echoed across the graveyard, John scrambled away on all fours, keeping his head below the top of the tombstones.
By the time he reached the cemetery fence, John could barely move. His breath came in ragged gasps; his chest, shoulders, and thighs were on fire; and the back of his neck felt wet and sticky. He lifted his cuffed hands over his head and wiped at his neck. His palms came away covered with blood, blood that looked almost black in the moonlight.
One foot got tangled going over the fence and John fell, landing with a thud on the other side. Behind him, fifty yards at most, he could hear the old man's quick shuffle coming across the cemetery. The old man mumbling and cursing to himself. Once John got into the tree line he felt a little safer, something between him and muzzle of that shotgun. But the going was slow. Much tougher than before. He started to feel dizzy. The dog had torn him up and he knew he was bleeding badly.
He'd made it this far but knew there was no way he could make it all the way back home, at least not tonight. Too tired and too hurt. But with the dog dead, all he had to do was shake the old man off his trail, then hole up somewhere until daylight. In the morning he would parallel the road just inside the trees to keep out of sight. His house was only two miles away. He would make it even if he had to crawl on his hands and knees the whole way.
He ran into the fence. Six feet tall, made of pointed wrought iron bars, no more than ten inches apart. Impossible to slip between them. The bars braced by two thin rectangular, iron beams that ran the length of the fence. One, a foot from the ground; the other, a foot from the top.
John hadn't gained any distance on the old man. He could hear his thrashing back in the trees, his slow, steady pace, his mumbling punctuated by curses.
There was only one way to get out and that was over the fence. John set his feet on the bottom support and grabbed the top crossbar with both hands, but with his wrists cuffed he couldn't spread his hands out. He couldn't climb.
He managed to pull himself up so his chin was over the top of the fence and then swung his good leg up. It didn't go high enough. Arms straining, he swung it up harder and managed to hook his heel on the top support, between two of the bars. That's when he lost his grip.
John fell but his foot stayed. He heard his ankle crack and he screamed. Caught between the two vertical bars and the horizontal support, his bare foot was wedged in tight and he hung upside down, naked, like a stuck pig being bled in a slaughterhouse.
The old man stepped out from the trees, shotgun held across his chest like a soldier. Fifteen feet from John, he raised it to his shoulder and grinned as he pulled the trigger. CLICK.
"Goddamit!" He racked the pump, took aim, and pulled the trigger again. Another empty click. This time he slammed the pump back and stared into the open chamber. "Son of a bitch," he mumbled, then grabbed the barrel in a two handed grip.
He swung it like a baseball bat at John's head and all John Burke could do was close his eyes. Just before the wooden stock crashed into his skull, he heard himself say, "Gail."
* * *
Gail Burke was on the toilet, in the middle of peeing, when the doorbell rang. "John," she heard herself say. "God, please let it be John." She pulled on her jeans and ran to the door, didn't even flush. But it wasn't John. It was a man, old but distinguished looking in a dark suit with a pale blue tie draped in front of a starched white shirt. She glanced behind him and saw a van parked in her driveway. Not a minivan, but a full-sized, white work van, windowless except for the driver and passenger doors. No name on the side.
"Can I help you?" she asked, losing hope her caller had anything to do with John.
He raised his hands slightly and she noticed they held a round plastic container. Rubbermaid, or Tupperware, with a lid on it. "Yes," she said.
"Mrs. Burke?"
Gail nodded.
My name is Muller, Frank Muller. He nodded to the right. "I live on Cemetery Road."
She gave him a brief smile.
"I've read about your...your husband's disappearance in the paper."
At first she'd had a lot of visitors like this. Well-wishers, sympathizers, but it had been two weeks and people had stopped coming by. Mostly, she guessed they thought John's disappearance maybe wasn't so mysterious after all. Middle-aged man, married for a dozen years, suddenly takes off. Maybe found a young girl. No mystery there. But she knew that wasn't what he'd done. Something terrible had happened. She could feel it.
"Thank you," was all she could think of to say.
He raised his hands again. "I've brought you something. Chili, my wife's secret recipe."
She looked at the container. The two-gallon size. That's a lot of chili, she thought. She caught a whiff of it as he slipped one hand under the container and lifted part of the lid with the other. He said, "Chock full of beef and beans. Put some meat on your bones."
Gail felt her face flush. Her jeans hung loosely on her hips. She'd lost ten pounds since John disappeared and hadn't had it to spare to begin with. "Thank you. Thank you very much, Mr..." She couldn't even remember the gentleman's name.
"Muller," he said.
"Of course," she said quickly. "Thank you again, Mr. Muller." Gail reached for the container. "To be honest I haven't felt much like cooking and that smells delicious. Please tell Mrs. Muller that I said--"
Mr. Muller shook his head. "Buried her recently."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."
As she took the chili from him, he forced a smile. "I made it but it's her recipe so if it's good she gets the credit." He laughed a more genuine laugh. "And if it's bad, I'll take the blame."
She felt the heat through the plastic. They said goodbye and Gail Burke went inside to eat a bowl of Mrs. Muller's secret recipe. She felt her stomach growl with hunger. If it tasted as good as it smelled, maybe she'd have two bowls.
THE END

Evil often wears a mask.
John Burke felt his tendon tear. It happened just past the DEAD END sign, an instant after his foot struck the edge of the pothole. His right ankle folded and he went down hard--real hard--on the rough asphalt road.
Mid-summer morning, just outside New Orleans. Nylon jogging shorts and a tank top were no protection against road rash. His right knee hit first, then his hands. The pebble-studded pavement devoured the skin on both then bit into his hip, but he barely felt the hip. Maybe the shorts helped, or maybe by then John was in too much pain to notice.
He lay in the street--thank God cars were rare on Cemetery Road--bleeding, clutching his leg. Everything forgotten except his pain. He could see his ankle already starting to swell, turning purple along the inside. When he tried to flex it a white hot bolt of pain shot up his leg.
This is bad, John thought. Really bad. Doctor Van Dykes, surgery, months of physical therapy...
First thing--get off the street. John rolled onto his left side and had to stop and catch his breath as a wave of nausea washed over him. As the blood ran from his hands and knee where the road had carved away hunks of meat, he watched bright crimson drops splash onto the asphalt.
Hundred-year-old oaks overhung Cemetery Road, their branches draped in gray beards of Spanish moss that shaded the street. A quarter-mile past the DEAD END sign, the road bridged over the Chinchuba River, a slow-paced tributary no more than a couple dozen yards wide. Some mornings, mist drifted off the water's surface and into the woods on both sides of the road, giving the place a surreal look.
A perfect place to jog--run--John Burke didn't like using the "J" word. Jogging was what people did on weekends as they watched their bellies grow. John was a runner. At least four times a week with half-a-dozen races a year.
The nearest house--the only house on Cemetery Road--stood at the end, half a mile away, next to the graveyard for which the road was named. Maybe, just maybe, he could limp there, borrow a phone, call Gail. John looked at his watch, just 7:15. His wife didn't leave until eight. If he could get to a telephone she could pick him up and drive him straight to Doctor Van Dykes' office.
The trip was torture. Taking short hops on his left leg, he could make it only ten or fifteen feet before he had to rest. To rest John had to drop his right foot down and put a little weight on it and that sent waves of pain shooting up his leg. Behind him, he saw a trail of blood like red tears on the ground.
At the end of the road, the pavement gave way to a gravel driveway flanked on either side by two white stone columns. A six-foot, spiked, wrought-iron fence disappeared into the woods on either side. Hinged inside the columns gaped a pair of wrought iron gates. Mounted on the left hand column was a brass plaque with the number 100 etched in black. 100 Cemetery Road.
John paused at the top of the driveway and leaned against one of the gates to catch his breath. The drive descended at a slight grade, curved to the right, then vanished into the woods. He'd run past the driveway hundreds of times but had never actually seen the house or the cemetery. There was always something slightly unsettling about the look of it, something that made him pick up his pace as he ran past.
After a deep breath, he started hopping down the gravel drive, using trees along the way as resting points. The house was a hundred yards past the gate. A big two-story, clapboard construction, that looked run down, almost seedy. It had suffered years of wood rot and badly needed a coat of paint.
The gravel path ended at a two-car garage attached to the right side of the house. Left of the house, on the other side, past a stand of trees, John caught a glimpse of the cemetery. He could just make out a low iron fence and a few gray tombstones.
A wooden porch with a decayed railing spanned the front of the house. The front door was solid wood, without windows.
He leaned against the frame and knocked. A minute passed. John knocked again, this time pounding with the bottom of his fist. At least another half minute went by before he heard slippers shuffling on the floor just inside. The door opened just a crack and a white haired old lady peered out. "Yes," she said, suspicion in her voice.
John held up his right leg, showing his bloody knee and black and blue ankle. Exhausted, he didn't have time to mince words. "I'm hurt. Can I use your phone?"
The old lady looked down at John's leg. A look of concern washed over her face as she threw open the door. "Come in. Oh, my goodness, come in."
John stretched his arms across the doorjamb as he hobbled inside the threshold. "If I can just use the phone, my wife will come pick me up."
"What on earth happened?" she said, leading him through the foyer.
"Twisted my ankle in a pothole."
"Oh, my word," she said, turning to look. "Is it very bad?"
"I think so."
"Come sit down. Let me get you something."
The foyer floor was tile, but he wanted to be careful. "I don't want to get blood on anything."
She shook her head. "Don't be silly. Blood washes right out." The old lady stepped toward John and took hold of his left arm, letting him lean some of his weight on her.
In the den, John was relieved to see a wooden floor. As he dropped onto the sofa, he nodded toward a telephone on an end table. "If I can just use the phone..."
A strange look flashed across the old lady's face, but was gone in an instant as she nodded toward the telephone. "That one doesn't work." She pointed toward a door that looked like it led into the kitchen. "You stay put. I'll call somebody for you in just a second, but first let me get you some water."
John tried to protest, but she was determined. While she was gone, he eyed the room. The den was big, with six bay windows overlooking the woods behind the house. The room was filled with old-fashioned furniture and had a cavernous fireplace at one end, but it also had a worn look, and a smell. A smell John always associated with old age, with his grandfather's house in the last few years before he died.
Next to the dead telephone was a framed black and white photo of a pretty young woman in a riding outfit, posing at what looked like the front gate of a ranch. It was the old lady, much younger and much thinner.
When she came back carrying a tall glass of ice water in one hand, John still had both hands clutching his swelling ankle. He jabbed an elbow toward the photo, more for something to say than anything else. "Is that you?"
She nodded. "My father owned the Rocking R ranch.
The name was familiar. One of the biggest meat suppliers in the state. "Owned?" He stressed the past tense.
She nodded. "After Daddy died, we had to sell. Rising interest rates and the drop in beef prices, we got just pennies on the dollar." She sounded bitter.
For a second she stood quiet and John used the lull to introduce himself and explain how he'd hurt his ankle.
She handed him the glass. "I may have seen you jogging before. Looked like somebody was chasing you."
John thanked her and smiled at the image that popped into his head of this nice old lady lurking in the woods close enough to see the road. As he took a long sip from the glass, he noticed a slightly bitter taste that reminded him why he drank bottled. "You live here alone?"
"No. My husband and I are retired. For forty years we owned Muller and Son funeral home."
"That's where we had the service for my father," John said.
"I'm sorry." She patted his shoulder. "When did he pass?"
He had to think for a second. Time flies. "Two years this past spring," he slurred.
She stared at him with a look of compassion. "Our son would have handled that. We sold the business to him four years ago."
John's head began to spin. The glass slipped from his fingers as he crumpled to the floor. Darkness.
* * *
John Burke cracked his eyes and saw blinding lights. Then felt thumping. Someone was thumping on his chest. He opened his eyes all the way. White light, bright white light. Flat on his back, he tried to raise his hand to shield his eyes but his arm wouldn't move--at least not far. Just a couple inches then something held it. Same thing happened when he tried to use his other hand.
John felt a cold hard floor beneath him--the rough surface of cement--as he rolled onto his side. There was something wrong with his hands. They were trapped at his waist as he tried again to shield his eyes from the blinding light.
More thumping, this time on his left shoulder. He blinked several times to clear his vision. His eyes focused on a bearded, bare-chested, fat man, squatting on the floor next to him. A pair of steel handcuffs clamped on the big man's wrists were fastened to a belt encircling his waist.
"You okay?" the man said.
John just stared at him, realizing the man wasn't just bare-chested, he was completely naked.
"I said, are you okay?" the bearded man asked again.
"Where am I?" John's head felt like it was going to split open.
The naked fat man shrugged. "I don't know."
John looked down at himself and saw that he too was bare-assed, his own wrists handcuffed and bound to his waist by a two-inch wide leather belt. Using his elbow and good knee, John started to snake away from his new acquaintance.
"You can't get away," the man said.
Get away from where?
The pain in his ankle made him stop. He looked around, saw he was in a room maybe thirty feet by thirty feet. Besides him and the fat man, there were four other men in the room. All naked, all handcuffed and belted.
The bearded man hadn't moved. "It's not me you got to be afraid of." He pointed toward the room's only door. "It's the old man."
* * *
The old man had been in four times to bring food. Slop was more like it. He came into the room carrying the thick brown paste in a couple of five-gallon buckets. The stuff tasted like it had a lot of lard in it.
"How long have you been here?" John asked.
The bearded man--Skeeter he called himself--just shrugged. "The old man always keeps the lights on so we can't tell the difference between day and night."
Along one wall was a chest-high trough into which their keeper poured the paste. A second trough along the adjacent wall held water. Like animals, the men stood in front of the troughs, stuck their faces into them, and slurped.
Like everyone else, everything of John's had been taken from him while he was unconscious: shorts, shirt, socks, shoes, and most important, his watch. In addition to belted handcuffs, the other men wore leg irons, essentially a pair of oversized, stainless steel cuffs with a foot-and-a-half of chain between them. But John had been spared that, probably due to the size of his swollen ankle.
Skeeter didn't know why he was here, why any of them were here. "I was just hitchhiking"
"Hitchhiking?"
He nodded. "On the interstate."
"The old man was driving a van. Pulled over and gave me a ride. After a few minutes he reaches into a cooler between the seats and hands me a beer. I'm talking about a sealed up beer. Popped the top on it myself. I took couple of sips, remember thinking it tasted kind of funny, like it got spoiled. Next thing I know I wake up here--like this." Skeeter tugged at his handcuffs, rattling the chain looped through the belt.
During the next several feedings John got pretty much the same story from three of the other four men. All hitchhikers, all picked up by the old man. The fourth guy, the one the others said had been here the longest, didn't talk. Just leaned against the wall in a stupor.
"Something in the food," Skeeter said.
"What do you mean?"
Skeeter patted his gut. "I didn't have this when I got here." He nodded toward the food trough. "And it makes you tired all the time."
* * *
Feedings. That's the only way John Burke had of marking the passage of time. Seemed like they were spaced out evenly, several hours apart, figured maybe three times a day. It was after the seventh feeding that the old man came and took away the guy who wouldn't talk--the sleepy guy.
He came in wearing a full-length plastic apron and carrying an electric cattle prod. He used the prod to shock the sleepy guy in the ass and wake him up, then delivered a couple more jabs to drive him from the room. Just after the door closed behind them, John heard the two bolts shoved into place.
"What the hell was that about?" he asked Skeeter.
"That's the third one I've seen him take."
"Do they come back?"
Skeeter shook his head.
"Where do they go?"
"I don't know. But...I'm afraid my turn's coming."
"I want to get out of here," John said, "and that looks like the only way out."
"Bad as this place is, I got a feeling what's on the other side of that door is a lot worse."
Hungry as he was, John barely ate. A couple things he'd noticed, the other four men were flabby and they slept a lot, especially after a feeding. The food--slop they called it--had to be the reason. The thick brown paste made everyone fat and sleepy. Something in it, some type of sedative, and maybe something else, something that made you want more. John couldn't remember ever being so hungry. Still, he only took a mouthful at each feeding.
And while the others slept, John worked. The leather belt around his waist was buckled at the back and secured with a small padlock. The handcuffs ran through a stainless steel ring in front. He'd tested the steel parts, the buckle, the lock, and the ring, but didn't think there was any hope of attacking them; the only weak spot was the leather itself.
So as soon as the others filled their bellies and nodded off, John would hobble to the drinking trough. He'd found a slightly rough edge at one corner and had begun scraping the belt against it. The belt was thick and the leather tough. The going was slow, but at least it was something. And something was better than nothing.
* * *
Just after the twenty-ninth feeding, that's when the old man came and took Skeeter away. He'd taken two more since that first one, and two new ones had come in. They came in one at a time, three feedings apart, and just like he imagined it had happened to him, the old man dragged them unconscious into the room and left them. They'd each awakened, naked, shackled, and groggy.
Then it was Skeeter's turn. He must have known because as soon as he heard the bolts slip back his face turned white. He backed himself into one of the far corners, trying to put as much distance between himself and the door as he could.
Skeeter had told John he used to be a wrestler, high school and college, back before the drugs and the booze, back before he'd hit the road. Since then he'd ridden his thumb, crisscrossing the country in search of a good time. Skeeter put up the best fight John had seen from any of them, but the belt, the handcuffs, the leg irons, and the cattle prod were just too much. One two-minute round was all the former wrestler had in him. After that, he was lying on the floor in a puddle of his own urine, a blubbering pile of flabby flesh covered in scarlet welts.
The old man grabbed the chain between Skeeter's ankles and dragged him through the door. Helpless, John just watched. The most terrifying thing was the old man's lack of emotion. No spark of evil in those eyes, just the look of a tired man trying to get through another day.
By the thirty-fifth feeding--John figured eleven or twelve days since he arrived--he had managed to saw through almost the entire two-inch leather belt, just an eighth of an inch remained.
Only one other of the original five who were in the room when John woke up was left. The old man came in, wearing his black plastic apron, and carrying the prod. In a minute it was over. He'd prodded the man through the door on hands and knees, the poor bastard doing everything he could to keep from getting shocked. This time only one bolt clicked into place.
For what seemed like an hour John sat in the middle of the room and watched the door, his stomach twisted with fear. Just as exhaustion overtook him and his head started to nod, the bolt shot open and the old man swept back into the room, wielding the cattle prod like a sword. John slid backward against the far wall as the old man's eyes fixed on him. But there was no hatred in them, nor malice as he strode toward John, waving the tip of the prod in a "come here" motion. As the cool wall pressed against John's back, he felt his bladder let go, felt the warm liquid spill down his thighs.
I'm going to die.
(to be continued...)

This one’s a doozy. Buckle up. It’s going to be a looong story, but it’s worth the read. We’ll call the woman “Karen” and her husband “Kent.” Let me just give you a mental image of these people. Kent looks like the average middle-aged guy. T-Shirt, Jeans, Old tennis shoes. Karen is the pinnacle of all that’s ever been categorized as a Karen. Her foundation was way too dark and orange for her skin tone. Her hair was thin and bleached blonde, and she had some kind of “crackhead pigtails” thing going on. She obviously had done Botox and gotten a LOT of fillers in her cheeks. She’s also middle-aged. Kind of like Dolly Parton’s face except a bit narrower and with Donald Trump’s complexion (ie caked in orange foundation) and hair color.
Okay. I’d already dealt with one entitled woman who yelled at me during that shift, so I wasn’t having the greatest day, but I was just taking it in stride. Until Karen and her husband Kent came in.
Kent was the one who came to the desk. He was a walk-in, and it was Memorial Day weekend with 3 rooms left to sell. One double room on the first floor and two suites on the upper floor. Kent talked over me and opted for the double, which was $10 cheaper than a suite, but it was also a pet room on the ground floor (our pet friendly floor, while 2 and 3 were pet-free). I tried to tell him all the standard stuff, but he was like “yeah yeah I just want the room,” and wouldn’t listen, so whatever. Here’s your key.
He goes to his room with Karen, and everything is great. For about 20 minutes. Kent comes back out and says he can hear someone’s dog occasionally barking. Okay, I get it, listening to a barking dog is annoying af. People aren’t supposed to leave their pets in the room alone anyway. I apologized and said I’d call the guest and see what I could do. I offered to move him to another room on the upper floors, and he said, “no, we’re not moving. We shouldn’t have to. People with dogs should have to move.”
“Er, everyone has dogs down that hallway.”
“Can’t you move them all to the other end of the hall?”
For a second, I thought he was joking. No. He was not. Holy entitled, Batman. No, no I can’t. And I won’t.
I told him I’d do what I could to get ahold of the guest who owned the dog. He went back to his room. And came out five minutes later to ask if I’d done anything (mind you the dog had stopped barking at this point). I said I couldn’t get ahold of the guest, and I again offered him another room. He said, “no, I told you we’re not moving. They have to move.”
Ugh. Whatever. He goes back to his room. 15 minutes later, he comes back out with Karen. Karen says, “okay, this is ridiculous. We didn’t pay to hear someone’s dog moving around and making noise. You need to tell people that there are dogs in here.”
“It’s a pet friendly hotel.”
“Well you need to tell people that.”
“It’s on the big sign outside, it’s on our website, there are signs about dogs on the walls around the hotel, and it was written on the paper you signed and initialed when you checked in.”
“Well they shouldn’t be prioritized over people.”
She stared at me like she was waiting for me to say something, but idfk what she expected me to say. I just shrugged and said, “it’s a pet friendly hotel.”
“OKAY, but we’re PEOPLE and we PAID TO STAY HERE.”
“So did the guests with pets??? They paid for a room and paid the pet fee to stay here!”
“WE HAVE RIGHTS, AND WE ARE YOUR PRIORITY- NOT PEOPLE WITH DOGS. PEOPLE ARE PRIORITIZED OVER ANIMALS.”
“Yeah well, pet owners have rights too.”
“Aren’t you a snobby fucking BITCH. Getting smart-mouthed with me like you’re not supposed to be prioritizing us over animals. You can stop with the smart-mouthed bitchy attitude right now.”
“And you can leave. Now.”
Omg the look that flashed across her face as she spluttered in surprise for a second was priceless.
“No. We aren’t leaving.”
“Get out. Now.”
“No, give us the other room.”
“No. Get OUT. NOW.”
“But you just offered us another room!”
“I did. And then you got nasty and started screaming and insulting me, so now I’m telling you to leave. Go.”
“NO, YOU’RE GOING TO GIVE US THE OTHER ROOM.”
“If you don’t leave, I will call the police and have you escorted off the property.”
And then… fuck, this is the part that makes me so fucking pissed I swear my soul momentarily left my body to make room for the sheer rage that coursed through me.
This bitch whipped out her phone to record me. Which is illegal in my state.
“Give us the room.”
“Get out. Are you recording me?”
“Yes! That’s what you get when you’re a snobby little BITCH.”
She was so happy with herself, like she’s some kind of fucking genius dealing out some groundbreaking vigilante justice to her cruel oppressors.
“I can call my manager or call the cops. Pick one or get out.”
At that point, Karen went fucking berserk and just started screaming and screeching until her orange face turned red. Screaming about how they should be prioritized and I’m such a fucking bitch smart-mouthed snotty snobby asshole and they were getting that room blah blah blah. Tons of insults and shit.
My brain was kind of like “yeah fuck this shit,” so I was standing behind the desk calmly and sarcastically saying, “yep. Uh huh. Uh huh. Sure. Yep.” As she was screaming at me.
I reiterated her choices. She demanded my name and my manager (what a surprising turn of events). I cheerfully said, “I’ll write it down for you!” But that didn’t stop her from demanding I tell her my name a million times. My guess is she wanted me to say it on video. Kent told me to “go call your manager.”
I went back to the office, shut the door, called my manager, and just burst into tears as soon as she picked up. All the stress and emotion I’d held in to keep it together just came out behind closed doors. I said I needed her to come in. I could barely explain why. Just “there are these two CUNTS at the desk screaming at me and recording.”
“Okay okay, it’s okay, let me get dressed and I’ll be right in.”
I tried to stop crying and pull it together before opening the door. I stopped for a second and heard Karen telling another family that came in what a total bitch I was. I opened the door and said, “okay she’s on her way, have a seat.”
“When will she be here”
“Soon, have a seat.”
“We are not going any-“
“I SAID, HAVE. A. SEAT.”
She stopped talking and jerked her head back and said, “you really do have a snobby, bitchy attitude problem, don’t you.”
They went back to their room. The family that witnessed the tail end of it just looked at me like I was a piece of shit whenever they saw me for the rest of their stay.
My manager came in, and I was just in hysterics. Crying and couldn’t breathe to tell her what happened. I managed to grind out the beginning of it before Karen comes out to the desk.
“Your EMPLOYEE refused us a room.”
“Really? Because from what I heard, you refused a room that she offered to you.”
“But then we wanted it and she said no”
“That’s what happens when you yell at my front desk agents.”
“SHE was yelling at US. I have a VIDEO.”
“Yes, she said you were recording her, which I’m not okay with. I don’t care if you have a video.”
“Why don’t you come around the desk to talk to us.”
“No. Talk to me across the desk.”
“You’re being very rude- just come around the desk to talk to us”
“This desk is between us for my protection. I don’t know what you’ll do.”
Karen huffed and shoved her phone in the manager’s face to show her the video. I was back in the office, but from what I heard, the face she made when she realized she hadn’t actually been recording the entire time and only got about 30 seconds where she’s yelling and I’m saying “yep uh huh…”. It must’ve been fucking priceless.
My manager eventually gave them another room, which I was pissed af about. Why reward them for their bad behavior? This is why they act this way in the first place- nobody tells them no. Karen was a total cunt- why does she get to stay??
At least my manager told them that they were not to bother me, not to speak to me, not to harass me like that. You can have the room, but you don’t bother my front desk agent again. They kept their side of it, apparently. My manager hung around until they were in the new room and my Ativan was kicking in. I didn’t hear another word from them, didn’t see them again, for the rest of the night.
But they needed some kind of slap on the wrist out of the ordeal at the very least. I was pissed they were staying. So before I went home, I set up a few wake-up calls for their room. 2am, 3am, and 4am. I’m told she didn’t say a thing about it.
Fuckin Karen.

Kiddo’s mom is a meth head and he has no family. He is 14 and so sweet and respectful. Cleaned my house for me. He sleeps outside twice a week and he almost rang my doorbell (lives down the street) at 2am but thought it would be too late. I told him no more sleeping outside EVER and I will always open up the door for him. He’s getting some undisturbed sleep in the art room with a lot of pillows and blankets (he prefers that room, and I have a bed easily available to make a bedroom for him, I have a 3bd 2bath house. I can merge my production room and art studio so he can have a clean comfy bedroom he can decorate) and I’m gonna let him sleep as long as he wants to. He’s also getting a shower finally (his mom sometimes prevents that) in the guest shower and a hot breakfast. What do I do? He has no one. His good bio dad doesn’t have custody because he’s homeless for reasons beyond his control (no drugs, just disability) I can open my house to him when he’s in acute crisis for now but this poor kid can’t end up in the system.
I might get my walker ready and take him to Ross today to get some him new clothes. He needs them. Maybe some toiletries. He at least needs one or two shirts, pants, and new shoes.
This poor dude’s tooth fell out last night. An adult tooth. From neglect.
I’m 23 and really sick, yeah, but he is such a good kid, and I know I’d be fit to be a better parent. I don’t have a drivers license due to seizures, but those don’t happen often, just enough to have license revoked.
This being said, I have no issue getting transportation anywhere.
My boyfriend is moving in in the spring. Could he be primary? He’s healthy and is going into teaching physics. I’m worried it’ll be too late, but the system would be worse.

No shade or hate at all, I'm just looking for some older stuff and it seems 90% of posts are for Eras merch so figured I'd make a post to see if anyone's got anything.
I'm mainly looking for old (Fearless/Speak Now/Red) shirts or hoodies. Happy to buy but also have a handful of fun trades:
-1989 blanket
-Signed CD's - Folklore, Red, Lover (the return would have to be pretty good for me to let this one go lol)
-Hats - 1989 black & white trucker hat & the Taylor Nation "13 World Tour" hat
-1989 Polaroids
-Old magazines

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/12dXJcMY6bs8oqn_cH-zvSglHZ6Ee8DwGm86vFNoEih4/edit?usp=sharing
For the last couple of months I have been collecting over 600+ of the best Pandabuy finds into a comprehensive spreadsheet! Each item in the spreadsheet has QC photos and prices listed in both CNY and USD! I will regularly update the spreadsheet to include new finds and replace out-of-stock items! So please bookmark this spreadsheet!
I've categorized the finds, making it incredibly easy to navigate and find precisely what you're looking for. Items are categorized like this: SHOES, HOODIES/SWEATERS, T-SHIRTS, JACKETS, PANTS/SHORTS, HATS/HEADWEAR, ACCESSORIES, OTHER STUFF
^{Items/brands featured are: Nike, Air Jordan 1, 4, 11, Dunk Low, Lobster, Air Force 1, Air Max, Vapormax, Bape, Bapesta, Yeezy 350, Slides, New Balance, Rick Owens, Balenciaga, Triple S, Defender, Track, Pollex Crocs, Kapital, Mastermind, Palace, Sicko Pain, Travis Scott, Broken Planet Market, Revenge, Stussy, CPFM, Supreme, True Religion, Trapstar, Essentials, Fear of God, FOG, Gallery Dept, Playboi Carti, Vivienne Westwood, Kids See Ghosts, GAP, Golf Wang, Sp5der, Chrome Hearts, Drake, Vuja De, Vetements, Far-Archive, Off-White, Divide The Youth, Joy Divizn, Hellstar, The North Face, Kaws, Burberry, Represent, Polo Ralph Lauren, Vlone, Los Pollos Hermanos, Better Call Saul, Kanye West, Metro Boomin, A$AP Rocky, Neon Genesis, JoJo's Bizarre Adventure, Ken Carson, Aphex Twin, American Psycho, Anti Social Club, Palm Angels, Stone Island, Football Jerseys, Basketball, Goth Money Records, Bladee, Drain Gang, Moncler, Corvidae, RAF Simons, Dior, F1, Prada, Candada Goose, Carhartt, Lacoste, Denham, Rhude, Gucci, Eric Emanuel, Minus Two, RMC Jeans, No Faith Studios, Polar Skate Big Boy, Dime, Calvin Klein, NBA, Yeat, CP Company, Balaclava, Durag, Tyler The Creator, Saint Michael, Amiri, Goyard, Louis Vuiton, B.B Simon, Belts, Pit Viper, McDonalds, Alyx, MF DOOM, Gundam, Pokémon, Breaking Bad, Lego, Dragon Ball Z, Star Wars, Ninjago, Marvel, iPhone, Takashi Murakami, Tech Deck, Disney, Death Note, Among Us, Minecraft, South Park, Beyblade, Kontrol Freek, Ice Spice}

Defending the Draft: Pittsburgh Steelers
Preface: Back during Week 2 of 2004, rookie QB Ben Roethlisberger entered the game after veteran Tommy Maddox left the game with an injury. What followed was 18 years of arguably the greatest QB in Steelers history up until retirement after the 2021 season. Enter Week 4 of 2022; rookie QB Kenny Pickett enters the game in the second half after a poor performance by veteran Mitchell Trubisky. How will the story proceed from here? His rookie season was a mixed bag full of rookie mistakes and flashes of brilliance that had the Steelers in the playoff hunt down to the very last week of the season. Most importantly, his growth and development over the course of the season has sparked a lot of optimism that he really could be the successor to Big Ben. As his sophomore season approaches, the front office made it a priority to set him up to succeed and to accelerate his development by bringing in talent around him. There is a lot of belief from the Steelers' Front Office that Kenny might be the guy going forward, and they acted like it with their moves during the offseason.
It started off with the highly unpopular decision of retaining OC Matt Canada for next season, citing the noticeable offensive strides that occurred toward the end of last season. It is a major gamble given how poor the offense played last year, but there is something to be said about the importance of coaching stability for a young QB. All indications since have been that the ‘training wheels’ are off from the playbook and that the team is entrusting Kenny to operate it in full. The belief is that he is ready to command and ultimately elevate the offense without limitation, and that was more important than starting over with a whole new playbook. With that squared away, the Steelers kicked off the free agency period mostly by addressing the defensive side of the ball with signings such as CB Patrick Peterson, LBs Cole Holcomb and Elandon Roberts, S Keanu Neal, and re-signing DT Larry Ogunjobi after an impressive first season with the team. Most notable, however, was the signing of OG Isaac Seumalo to upgrade on incumbent Kevin Dotson; a clear indication that the team wanted to get better up front for Kenny Pickett and keep the run game rolling like it was at the end of last season. Lastly, the Steelers made a late move right before the draft to acquire Allen Robinson from the Rams to hopefully upgrade the receiving arsenal and find much-needed stability at the WR3 position.
Heading into the draft, it was clear that the Steelers had their eyes on a potential upgrade at LT, another CB to replace the departed Cam Sutton, much-needed depth at EDGE and DT, and potentially some more weapons for the offense.
TRADE: Pittsburgh sends Picks 17 & 120 to New England for Pick 14
In his first year sitting in the General Manager chair, Omar Khan watched the board closely as a pair of offensive tackles already came off the board and the tackle-needy New York Jets sat two picks ahead of them. It just so happened that the Jets’ rival New England Patriots were sitting one pick in front of them, and had little to no qualms about letting a team move up….
Round 1, Pick 14: Broderick Jones, OT, Georgia
RAS Profile
Talk about making a statement during your first draft in charge. Sensing an opportunity to land one of the premier offensive tackles in this class, Omar Khan made the shrewd decision to jump up the board and secure a player they’ve had their eyes on. Now on the clock at Pick 14, the Steelers wasted no time in selecting University of Georgia’s standout LT Broderick Jones to be their expected franchise tackle. Fresh off the Bulldogs’ first national championship in over 40 years, Jones stepped in at LT for the departed Jamaree Salyer and anchored them all the way back to a consecutive national championship. There was a good bit of hype for Jones entering the season as he flashed his talents during a brief stretch as a starter due to injuries in 2021. One thing that stood out to me was a quote from Mike Tomlin that during a Pro Day dinner last draft cycle, all his Georgia teammates pointed to Broderick as someone to look out for next draft even despite his limited tape as a starter. Safe to say they weren’t lying and his 2022 tape ended up impressing Mike Tomlin. Over the course of their title-winning campaign, Jones did nothing but impress against the best the SEC had to offer and showed just how enticing of a talent he is.
So what are the Steelers getting in Broderick Jones? Two words that you love to hear from a potential NFL tackle; Nastiness & Athleticism. When watching his film, it is immediately evident that this is a violent player in both phases of the trenches. When leading the charge in the run game, Jones is looking to get out in front and put defenders in the dirt to create wide-open running lanes. His smooth movement skills in space coupled with his 6’5 311lb frame are tantalizing and it allowed Georgia to dominate with outside zone concepts. When Jones gets his hands on defenders and his legs in gear, there is almost no chance of recovery for said defender. On top of that, Broderick showed off a position-leading 4.97 40-yard dash and an even better 1.67 10-yard split at the combine which showcased just how well this man can move. Those aforementioned traits are just as apparent in pass protection with his powerful first punch and fluidity in his sets. On any given rep, Jones is looking to land a debilitating blow on pass-rushers to disrupt them right off the snap. I’ve seen him flatten unsuspecting speed rushers and stone-wall power rushers with his raw power. Even on reps where he doesn’t win initially, Jones has the foot speed to quickly recover and settle back into his set without surrendering too much ground. His profile allows him to drop deep into his kickstep and mirror even the most athletic pass-rushers he faced. With that all said, this is still a highly inexperienced player we are talking about and there is still a learning curve to overcome. He has a tendency to overset in his punch and expose his chest and his mechanics still need a lot of refinement at this stage of his career, but these are coachable flaws rather than any sort of physical limitations. From a raw tools and traits perspective, this is almost as good as it gets for a coach to work with. Keep him on his current developmental track and this is a guy with the potential to be a decade-long anchor for an NFL offense.
Broderick Jones will have the opportunity to earn the starting LT job from Day 1 in Pittsburgh. Incumbent starter Dan Moore Jr. has been a serviceable player during his first two seasons as a pro but his physical limitations and penalty propensity left a lot to be desired. The two will battle it out during training camp, but the Steelers seem excited to fast-track Jones’s development and get him reps as soon as possible. If all goes according to plan, Pittsburgh finally found their coveted answer at LT and Kenny Pickett’s much-needed blindside blocker for many years to come. Between Isaac Seumalo and now Broderick Jones, the left side of a once porous OL looks like an absolute strength. What better way to keep your young QB upright than that?
Round 2, Pick 32: Joey Porter Jr., CB, Penn State
RAS Profile
The top pick of the second round was acquired by the Steelers during a midseason trade that sent Chase Claypool to the Chicago Bears. Looking to upgrade their arsenal for a young Justin Fields, Chicago gambled on Claypool’s athletic upside to help elevate their offense. What followed was an 0-9 stretch to close out the season, much to the Steelers' benefit.
Joey Porter Sr. played for the Steelers from 1999 to 2006 and then coached for the team from 2014-2018. He was an emotional leader and tone-setter for the vaunted 2000s Steelers defenses. Now 17 years later after he last played for the team, his son Joey Porter Jr. will get to continue his legacy. When the first round concluded and JPJ surprisingly remained on the board, everyone and their mother connected the dots of the Steelers taking him to start Day 2. It just felt right. Numerous teams called the Steelers to try and trade up to that spot, but nothing wavered them off this opportunity. Joey Porter Jr. got the call and returned to a team where he grew up as a kid getting to be around. Both Khan and Tomlin have stated that he was a player they were looking at at pick 17 so to get him at 32 was a home run for their draft strategy. Make no mistake, this was not just some sentimental pick but rather an opportunity to land an extremely talented player at a position of dire need. JPJ is an aggressive, man-coverage CB whose goal is to jam and disrupt every route he sees. He has freakish 34” arms that allow him to wash receivers off their routes and minimize passing windows for opposing QBs. Penn State had him playing tight press-man coverage and his length and straight-line speed proved to be a nightmare for teams to throw against. The one issue that does haunt his tape is grabbiness downfield and the flags that follow. While not a liability, his hip-flip recovery can be lacking and causes him to get too handsy to try and recover. Coaching him up to be more disciplined with his hands and to trust his traits and technique will be a must for him to become more scheme diverse and avoid being picked on. However, in an older CB room that lacks man coverage-capable players on the outside, JPJ will have an immediate role where he can start with his comforted bump-and-run coverage techniques and grow from there. Given the size and speed of some of the opposing AFCN receivers, his skillset will provide huge value to a secondary that previously lacked the personnel to match up accordingly. This pick was a feel-good story on the surface, but more importantly a much-needed young player meant to spearhead a CB room overhaul throughout the coming seasons.
Round 2, Pick 49: Keeanu Benton, NT, Wisconsin
RAS Profile
Struggles defending the run have been a recurring issue for the Steelers' defense over the past couple of seasons. Between a lack of stoutness next to Cam Heyward upfront and poor downhill run-fitting from the linebackers, the Steelers were very prone to being run right over. Having completely overhauled the LB room in free agency with an intent on signing plus run defenders, the Steelers waited until the draft to truly address the DL. Keeanu Benton out of Wisconsin is a sorely needed infusion of young talent for an older position group. It’s not often you see a 4-year starter at Nose Tackle in college, particularly at a seniority-focused school like Wisconsin, but that’s what you’re getting in Benton. He is as experienced as they come at that position and should have no trouble seeing the NFL field right away because of it. He plays exactly as you’d expect from someone with that resume; extremely stout and reliable against the run and plays with a lot of polish to stack and shed blocks. While he aligned almost exclusively over the A-Gap in their scheme, he still showcased the quickness and power to be a legitimate penetrator as well. He had the opportunity to really show off what more he can do at the Senior Bowl in 1-on-1 drills and really caught people by surprise with just how well he could move and win those reps. His home at the next level will still be the A-Gap as he joins a familiar 3-4 scheme in Pittsburgh, but he has the talent to line up in a variety of spots across the defensive front. He will be relied upon early on to be a clog in the middle between Cam Heyward and Larry Ogunjobi but his long-term outlook might include a lot more on his plate once Cam is retired.
TRADE: Pittsburgh sends Pick 80 to Carolina for Picks 93 & 132
Having surrendered their 4th-rounder in the trade up for Broderick Jones, Omar Khan used this trade as an opportunity to regain a 4th-rounder without bailing out of the third round entirely. The Steelers had many needs and limited draft capital so regaining quantity was a must.
Round 3, Pick 93: Darnell Washington, TE, Georgia
RAS Profile
Sometimes talent just falls right into your lap and you just gotta take it. I don’t think the Steelers were anticipating taking a TE very early, especially after re-signing Zach Gentry a few weeks prior, but I also don’t think they expected Darnell Washington to be available at 93. Simply put, this dude is a unicorn. Standing at a towering 6’7 265lb frame, Washington plays exactly as he looks. He is on the field to mow defenders over and have no mercy doing it. Having him on the field for Georgia was essentially like having a 6th OL that would occasionally catch passes. He hits like a Mack truck and can move in space with ease. There were plays where UGA would line him up next to his (now reunited) teammate Broderick Jones and just have them get on their horse and leave poor defenders in their wake while the RBs went untouched. Plays like that are going to be absolutely beloved by Steelers fans. The scary thing with Washington is that you can easily argue that he was underused at Georgia considering he ran a 4.64 40 at the combine but only caught 28 passes over the course of the season. It made sense to have All-American talent Brock Bowers be the primary receiver while Washington did the blocking dirty work, but he showed how he could release his blocks and rip a defense for 30+ yard gains right up the seam. It’ll be a similar setup in Pittsburgh behind emerging young star Pat Freiermuth, but there is so much untapped receiving potential here with his size and athleticism that we haven’t even seen yet. The only reason he fell as far in the draft as he did was because of medical concerns with his knees, but Omar Khan has come out and said that he thinks that is totally overblown. If that proves not to be an issue, Pittsburgh found a one-of-one type player who will add to an already bolstered rushing attack. Najee Harris must be licking his chops at the thought of running behind Broderick and Darnell.
Round 4, Pick 132: Nick Herbig, OLB, Wisconsin
RAS Profile
If there is one thing that this draft reinforced what we already knew it’s that the Steelers really like NFL bloodlines. After signing Nate Herbig in free agency to shore up the OL depth, the Steelers ended up drafting his younger brother Nick Herbig out of Wisconsin. Now whereas Nate is a hulking 6,4 335lb guard, Nick is a slender 6’2 240lb pass-rusher who wins with his explosive get-off. Having played the unique outside linebacker role for Wisconsin just like TJ Watt did many years prior, Nick is a very versatile player who had a lot of responsibilities at Wisconsin. As a pass-rusher, Nick was on the smaller side but was very capable of beating larger tackles with quick-twitch moves and bend around the edge. He plays with a desirably high relentlessness to find his way into the backfield by any means necessary. As noted, Nick also had to play a ton in space given his role and that led him to being a quality ‘flow’ defender that can sift through commotion. There was a popular sentiment that Nick might end up transitioning to off-ball LB full time given his smaller frame and athletic profile, but the Steelers seem intent on developing him as a pass-rusher behind Watt and Alex Highsmith. He might not have the stature to hold up as a three-down player, but his pass-rushing acumen will be a noticeable boost to an extremely shallow room behind the two starters. Expect him to be rotated in often during passing situations.
Round 7, Pick 241: Cory Trice, CB, Purdue
RAS Profile
With no picks during Rounds 5 or 6, Pittsburgh finally got back on the clock in the middle of the 7th round. Continuing a theme of having talent fall to them, Omar Khan double dipped on the CB position with Cory Trice out of Purdue. Trice is an imposing 6’3 205lb corner with legitimate change of direction and pressing skills. He knows how to use his size to his advantage and can legitimately mirror even the most precise route runners he faced. He has experience with both man and zone coverage concepts which will be an asset in Pittsburgh’s diverse coverage scheme. On top of that, Trice is a willing participant in run defense as he looks to shed blocks from receivers and trigger downhill on the ball carrier with his size. The only reason a player this talented was still on the board this late was because of a laundry list of medical concerns. Having suffered a season-ending ACL tear in 2021, Trice returned in 2022 but was limited by a knee brace that ended up causing a groin injury to develop. He was flagged at the combine for his injury history but still managed to impress with a 4.47 40-yard dash and 6.7 3-cone drill. Many teams likely took him off their board due to long-term concerns but Pittsburgh was willing to roll the dice on his upside if he stays healthy. Leaving the draft with two talented young corners could end up completely reinvigorating their secondary.
Round 7, Pick 251: Spencer Anderson, IOL, Maryland
RAS Profile
To round out their draft class, Omar Khan wrapped things up with the versatile Spencer Anderson out of Maryland. During his college career, Anderson got starts at all five positions along the offensive line. Mike Tomlin tends to value ‘swing versatility’ along his OLs so the idea of a super versatile piece like this could be enticing. Anderson is an intelligent and technically sound blocker who knows how to explode off the snap and hit his landmarks. He is not a particularly fluid mover but he knows how to work angles and positioning from all different alignments. I expect him to get a primary opportunity at Center for the Steelers given the complete lack of options behind starter Mason Cole, but his versatility will be his calling card to earn a roster spot.
Notable UDFAs:
Monte Pottebaum, FB, Iowa: Safe to say that a fullback with a long-haired mullet is going to be a training camp fan favorite among yinzer faithful. Previous fullback Derek Watt was not re-signed this offseason after limited usage over his tenure so an opening exists at that position if they are still looking to use it. Watt made his money primarily on special teams so Monte will have to show the same capabilities in order to make the team, but he has the luxury of being the only FB skillset currently on roster.
David Perales, EDGE, Fresno State: Every summer it seems like a UDFA pass-rusher picks up some steam as a potential roster addition for the Steelers. The player that fills the bill this year is the bulky and bendy David Perales. OLB depth is less of an immediate need with the recent signing of Markus Golden, but this is still a thin room. If Perales can show enough special teams value and pass-rushing upside, he might stick around as the fifth OLB.
Roster Prediction:
QB: (3) Kenny Pickett, Mitchell Trubisky, Mason Rudolph
RB: (3) Najee Harris, Jaylen Warren, Anthony McFarland Jr.
WR: (6) Diontae Johnson, George Pickens, Allen Robinson, Calvin Austin III, Hakeem Butler, Miles Boykin
TE: (4) Pat Freiermuth, Darnell Washington, Zach Gentry, Connor Heyward (HB)
OT: (4) Broderick Jones, Chukwuma Okorafor, Dan Moore Jr., Le’Raven Clark
IOL: (5) Isaac Seumalo, James Daniels, Mason Cole, Nate Herbig, Kevin Dotson
IDL: (6) Cameron Heyward, Larry Ogunjobi, Keeanu Benton, DeMarvin Leal, Montravius Adams, Breiden Fehoko
OLB: (4) TJ Watt, Alex Highsmith, Markus Golden, Nick Herbig
ILB: (4) Cole Holcomb, Elandon Roberts, Mark Robison, Tanner Muse,
CB: (6) Patrick Peterson, Levi Wallace, Chandon Sullivan, Joey Porter Jr., Cory Trice, James Pierre
SAF: (5) Minkah Fitzpatrick, Keanu Neal, Damontae Kazee, Tre Norwood, Miles Killebrew
ST: (3) Chris Boswell (K), Pressley Harvin III (P), Kameron Canaday (LS)
Future Needs:
Inside Linebacker: The single most glaring deficiency on the current roster is inside linebacker. The Steelers let Devin Bush, Myles Jack, and Robert Spillane all walk in free agency in favor of signing Cole Holcomb and Elandon Roberts. While those two players have nice complementary skill sets, neither is someone you’d hang your hat on as the top talent in the LB room, especially in coverage. It’s been over five years since Ryan Shazier’s career-ending injury and the Steelers have still not found an answer in the middle of their defense. Finding a true three-down backer who can make plays against the run and drop back into coverage is a must, as hard as that may be.
Slot Cornerback: If both Joey Porter Jr. and Cory Trice pan out like their talent indicates, the Steelers might have found their future at outside CB in one draft. However, one spot in the secondary they really didn’t find an answer was in the slot. Chandon Sullivan was signed as a one-year stop-gap to replace Arthur Maulet, and Patrick Peterson might get some run in the slot, but a long-term option does not exist here. Finding a slot-specific skill set would help cover up the other major deficiency on defense.
Wide Receiver: There are currently a lot of unknowns in the Steelers war room. Will Diontae Johnson bounce back in 2023? Can George Pickens develop more routes to his game? Does Allen Robinson have anything left? What will Calvin Austin look like after missing his entire rookie season? This is a talented room shrouded with a ton of uncertainty, so reinforcements might be necessary on the soon horizon. It is never a bad idea to surround a young QB with even more weapons.
Final Thoughts: Fans and pundits all agree; this was a home run first draft for new GM Omar Khan. Declaring ‘winners and losers’ right after the draft is often a fickle exercise but it is hard to ignore all the value that was obtained at each pick. Finally landing a much-needed upgrade at LT made this draft a win by itself, but adding highly regarded prospects at almost all of the other major pre-draft needs made this a class to truly get excited for. Pittsburgh found players that can contribute right away and may end up being future cornerstones at their respective position groups. If nothing else, fans can leave the draft with a feeling that the Steelers are in good hands with Khan in charge. His understanding of how and when to address critical roster needs, and his willingness to maneuver the board in doing so, deserves a lot of praise and optimism. The Kenny Pickett era is officially underway, and it is draft classes such as this that will help shape it into a success.

FYI, this is a story COLLECTION. Lots of standalones technically. So, you can basically start to read at any chapter, no pre-read of the other chapters needed technically (other than maybe getting better descriptions of characters than: Adam Vir=human, Krill=antlike alien, Sunny=tall alien, Conn=telepathic alien). The numbers are (mostly) only for organization of posts and continuity.
OC Written by Charlie Stastarrfallknightrise,
Typed up and then posted here by me.
Proofreading and language check for some chapters by u/Finbar9800
Future Lore and fact check done by me.
Pets are cute! I thought we went over this already Krill?
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From the Journal of Biology and Medicine
This research focuses primarily on the ability of the human to interact and bond with different types of species. All over the galaxy it has been seen that humans have the ability to interact with and understand different species around them in ways that are meaningful for both parties. However, a different and more interesting phenomenon witnessed on the human home world is that practice of keeping a "pet”, an animal which is not considered sentient, that is allowed to live and interact with the humans, sometimes sharing their houses, and even sharing their beds. No one knows what underlies this profound urge to bring other creatures into their homes, but it is a practice humans have been participating in for well over four thousand years, perhaps even, since the beginning of their existence.
[…]
Am I allowed to make a complaint!?
No no, I am not asking…
I was simply warning you that I am going to complain in a very roundabout way.
I don't really care whether you want me to complain or not. I am simply angry at how everything humans do seems to be a direct attempt to make me angry, or scare me half to death. I honestly think it is on purpose, a species cannot feasibly be this reckless if that were not the case. I mean, they bring apex predators into their beds for Sanctum's sake!!!
Here, here let me explain.
The Dog: It basically is just a fucking wolf. Yeah, once upon a time humans cuddled up to the most cunning pack predator in the world and thought it would be fun to bring them inside, and for it to around their kids. I mean are you kidding me!? This creature can grow to over one hundred pounds and has razor sharp K-9 teeth that can rip your throat out. It has a nose that can smell the adrenaline excretions... It can flipping smell fear. In fact, humans say that this creature is domesticated, but may I point out to you that dogs are responsible for killing people all across the world. It's a predator, it wants to eat your face! And before you go saying, well that is only big dogs, the little dogs are worse! They are big killers trapped inside a tiny body and that makes them neurotic and angry and way more willing to just go ahead and chomp your finger right off. And humans LOVE these creatures, they love them. They will dress them up in little sweaters and little shoes, and they will coo over them constantly. It is HORRIFIC. They even give them to disabled people, some of the most vulnerable of their species, and they just hand them an apex predator like it's no big deal!... I'm getting worked up, aren't I?
The cat: So basically, a tiny tiger that still has all the instincts of a big tiger. If it were bigger, it would definitely kill you. Now, luckily for us, the domesticated ones only come in one size, and that size is rather small (for the most part) because if these suckers were big, they would be like tigers or pumas, and they would be more than willing to rip our face off. What is worse, at least with dogs you can argue that they are well tempered and loving, but cats? They hate you, they are using you and they know it, you know it, everyone knows it. They will come up to you to be petted and instead of walking away like a normal creature when they are done, they will just claw you, just claw you no explanation, no apology just claws. And what is WORSE is the people who own cats are even more delusional than the ones that own dogs, because I bet you there is a human reading this right now that says “well my cat is nice”, or another human that thinks “well yeah my cat does this sometimes, but he/she's so cute and I love them anyway”, so there... Humans are blinded by their need to touch and hold fuzzy things.
Horses: Ok, I know this one does not go inside, but hear me out on this one… It is a giant frigging deer-thing that comes in as many sizes as dogs do, and one day some a-hole human decided to hop on one's back and go riding into the sunset, never mind that this thing could kick you into a state of internal hemorrhaging even I would balk at. It is too big to put it away and so you have to let it roam free, but no, instead humans decided to ride it.
Rabbit: Shouldn't you be eating these things? Also, they have clawed back feet, and sometimes they bite. Why do you want one so badly?
Rats: It's a fucking rat!? Like boubonic plague! Is any of that ringing a bell? This thing is literally vermin, its job is to carry diseases and be nasty, and you want to keep one in your child's bedroom!?
Guinea pigs/gerbils/mice: See rats above, I am just saying these things are tiny rats and their job is to carry diseases. It is gross so don't touch them.
Birds: Again, with the disease thing. These guys are flying rats. Ok I get it, humans love cute things that can make noise and talk, but these guys are super loud and expensive to take care of. Just do yourself a solid and let it go, it belongs out in the wild where it can be annoying outside and not inside.
Lizards: I mean ok... Pretty sure these carry diseases too. Also, they will never love you and they are very expensive to keep.
Snake: It's a fucking snake! One of humanities the worst fears, and you WANT one!? This thing has haunted the nightmares of your people for the past couple thousand years, and you want to cuddle it? Plus, you have to feed it dead mice! Some of you have a snake so big that it is capable of swallowing medium-sized animals whole. This is literally the definition of a predator, some of them are even venomous. Why- why-why-why-why do you have one!? WHY DO YOU HAVE A SNAKE!!!??? THE MIND BOGGLES! NO “DANGER NOODLES” ARE NOT CUTE!!!!
Tarantula: Fucking hell! *slamming noises* You guys are just fucking with me now right? Right? Just straight fucking with me. This isn't serious. It can’t be… Like we have come all this way, just for me to learn about this shit. This isn't real, it cannot be real because that would mean that you guys are way stupider than I thought you were... I mean... I can't... Nope I am done I can’t... I draw the line at big ass spiders.
Why hasn't god terminated your species yet!?
Surely natural selection would not encourage you to actively seek out creatures that can kill and eat you…
Why, why, why are you still getting bigger!? Why are you thriving!? Why am I here with you, why did I decide to leave the safety of my own planet!?
*incoherent screaming*
"Why is the human need to touch other living things so damn strong!. What biological purpose is this!?”
”Rrrrrrrraaaaaaaaahahhhhhhh!!!”
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Intro post by me
OC-whole collection
Patreon of the author
Thanks for reading! As you saw in the title, this is a cross posted story written by starrfallknightrise and I'll just upload some of it here for you guys, if you are interested and want to read ahead, the original story-collection can be found on tumblr or wattpad to read for free. (link above this text under "OC:..." ) It is the Empyrean Iris story collection by starfallknightrise. Also, if you want to know more about the story collection i made an intro post about it, so feel free to check that out to see what other great characters to look forward to! (Link also above this text). I have no affiliations to the author; just thought I’d share some of the great stories you might enjoy a lot!
Obviously, I have Charlie’s permission to post this and for the people already knowing the stories, or starting to read them: If you follow the link and check out the story you will see some differences. I made some small (non-artistic) changes, mainly correcting writing mistakes, pronoun correction and some small additional info here and there of things which were not thought of/forgotten or even were added/changed in later stories (like the “USS->UNSC” prefix of Stabby, Chalar=/->Sunny etc). As well as some "biggemajor" changes in descriptions and info’s for the same stringency/continuity reason. That can be explained by the story collection being, well a story collection at the start with many standalone-stories just starring the same people, but later on it gets more to a stringent storyline with backstories and throwbacks. (For example Adam Vir has some HEAVY scars over his body, following his bones, which were not really talked about up till half the collection, where it says it covers his whole body and you find out via backflash that he had them the whole time and how he got them, they just weren't mentioned before. However, I would think a doctor would at least see these scars before that, especially since he gets analyzed, treated and goes shirtless/in T-shirts in some stories). So TLDR: Writing and some descriptions are slightly changed, with full OK from the author, since he himself did not bother to correct these things before.

Cian_Ci is not only corrupt, but also "pretends to be poor and upright". Their parents have also been deceived, picking up trash in the city for over 10 years to "subsidize their household expenses". According to the article, during Cian_Ci's tenure as the "chief", they not only repeatedly instructed subordinates to cheat national financial funds by falsely reporting project content and increasing project size, amounting to 2.0841 million yuan (RMB), but also privately set up and used a "petty cash box", involving up to 2.2636 million yuan.
As the person in charge of the project, Cian_Ci showed special enthusiasm when property owners applied for projects. In the second half of 2017, the head of a cooperative society, Li, was raising money for industrial construction, and Cian_Ci helped them obtain a 1.8 million yuan project subsidy and took credit for it by receiving 300,000 yuan under the guise of "material fees".
The article pointed out that during the process of assisting property owners to apply for projects all year round, Cian_Ci used the excuse of needing "material fees" to deduct project subsidies. Some property owners who were deeply affected by this even saved his number in their phones as "Li Chaowei".
Cian_Ci also induced their parents to move to an old residence under the pretext of a shortage of housing conditions, and talked about the family's financial difficulties in front of their parents. Seeing their son's economic troubles, their parents, who were over 70 years old, believed it to be true and supported themselves by picking up trash for over a decade. Meanwhile, Cian_Ci had already used embezzled money to buy 3 luxury homes and shops in other areas.
Cian_Ci appeared to be righteous and frugal, but was actually two-faced. They wore a pair of leather shoes that had been resoled three times and repaired before wearing. They didn't smoke, gamble, drink much, or eat out often. They liked to carry a basket to buy vegetables and personally cook dishes. However, Cian_Ci's "frugal" lifestyle included wearing an old cotton vest they had bought when they first started working, which they didn't dare to throw away after 30 years, and eating simple meals with no meat for all three meals a day.

The start of another school year. Just a few more now to go. First day of school. And a trio of wannabe gangbangers were asserting their authority.
Those would usually run to form. Shaved heads, matching t-shirts, shoes, and pants. Intimidation their forte’. Establish dominance. Let everyone know who the top dogs were.
And it was effective. They Were intimidating. Sitting together on a stone bench beside the sidewalk leading to the main doors, all had no choice but to pass directly in front of them.
And all were subjected to their threats and unkind remarks. Most pretended not to hear, or, with lowered glance, hurried past.
Bud and three of his friends passed by in their turn. They paid the young toughs little mind, and ignored the remarks. Until one of particular virulence directed to Bud’s departing back.
“Wait here for me, guys. I’ll be right back.” And so they did.
“You should have seen it, Mr. OP!” two of his friends would afterward tell me.
The trio had jeered when they saw him returning.
Stopped jeering when he stood in front of them, and began to speak calmly.
Soon were looking not at each other, or at him, but sitting quietly and unsmiling now, heads bowed, staring fixedly at the ground in front of them.
Just a short conversation, and then Bud had rejoined his friends, and they proceeded inside.
They’d been too far away to hear what was said. But they’d seen its effect, and didn’t question.
I asked him later, when we were alone: “What did you say to them?”
“I just explained what was going to happen to them if they ever spoke to me again. No big deal, Pop.”
And I realized that, to him, it hadn’t been. Just the way things were.
He was coming into his own. Since he was small, his utter self-confidence had always been remarkable, and it was growing still.
The incident had not gone unnoticed. Many had witnessed it. And word got around about how easily the three, who had mistakenly fancied themselves hard young men, had been dominated by just one remarkable young man who really was.
Whatever power of intimidation they had sought to wield was broken, and they weren’t taken seriously anymore.
Sometimes all it takes is just one, if it’s the right one.

I’ve been grinding away on a lot of writing on credit recruiting, advice for interns, and other career resources for junior peers in finance and have roughly 17,000 words written so far. This will steadily be coming out over the next few months – and we’re kicking it off today starting with advice for interns. My disclaimer for everything I’ll be writing is as follows – one person’s career advice may not be the perfect fit for you and you should combine the opinion of 5-10 people you respect and then determine what is YOUR best path. But alas, I’ve walked the path of being a bulge bracket intern, and have spent a lot of time thinking through the insight I can provide the interns and junior people that follow the account – and here’s what I’ve got.
First – advice for people with interns: Be nice and understanding to your intern.
To be honest, whether we like to admit it or not, this is how most of us came into the industry: A lot of us came into the industry thinking we knew more than we actually did because we read about it in a textbook, got good grades, and saw xyz finance meme. But the reality is a lot of us were vastly unprepared to be a value-added resource during the early stages of our career. One MD said to me once as a college senior “They don’t expect you to know anything. They’re hiring for someone who can learn as they go.” I didn’t realize this as a college senior, but after six months of working this became very obvious to me. Companies are hiring interns for their potential. Their potential comes from 1) having a good work ethic and 2) having a good attitude. As an intern, if you work hard and be pleasant to work with, then you’re going to win 9 times out of 10.
It's hard to remember, but there was a time where none of us had any clue what we were doing. Arguably, this continues on in your career and the humblest investors truly believe this. So look here’s my advice – sure interns be saying the darndest things sometimes – but let’s try to cut them slack, treat them fairly, and remember we were once in their same shoes?
Sure, if a Gen Z intern is out there being a jerk and snobbish, then maybe this isn’t valid, but if they’re hardworking, showing a lot of potential, and are super coachable then it is your job to help them develop into a potential asset at your firm.
Also – this is a relatively more “stressful” year for interns. College kids are always a lot more panicked about the job market than people who already have experience under their belt to begin with - but this economy isn’t lessening their worries. A lot of college kids are seeing the class of 2023 have offers pulled and enter a tougher job market. Now they’re starting to get spooked a bit and may feel a little out of control. Try your best to encourage and develop them – these guys are probably feeling a little like how the 2008-2009 grads felt, to a degree.
Okay – so here’s my 20 point list of recommendations for interns.
First - last year I started a debate over whether banking interns should take vacations in the middle of their internship….and people actually tried countering it. LMAO! I’m going to try this bit again sometime soon to get the people going and let’s still see people still think that while we’re on the precipice of a recession.
1) Be careful with social media. DO NOT MAKE TIKTOKS. Emphasizing this in all caps. There’s a reason all the Finmemes and FinTwit burners are anonymous and not dancing around on the internet. Most TikToks are very cringeworthy and seem to always find their way to HR once they go viral. People will 100% get fired over what they post to TikTok or Snapchat. Your TikToks are very likely to be spread to large audiences on Instagram or Twitter – which is totally fair game (you posted it, you gotta own what you post). With that said, if you ask nicely I’ll take a TikTok down, but other accounts openly will not. In general, don’t take your phone out and record or take photos of stuff, especially given all the sensitive materials we work with. Don’t post sensitive information from your computer on your IG story captioned “grinding hard” “working on the weekend like usual” or some shit.
2) Don’t take a week long vacation during a ten-week internship. Last year, I made this obvious remark on twitter, got a bunch of ppl in agreement, but also riled up a tonnnn of people on twitter (didn’t seem like the typical finance folk though) but it’s true. I want everyone reading this to succeed – which is why I’m telling this hard truth. Bosses in banking will frown upon you missing 10% of your learning experience to go vacation. You can always vacation before or after your internship (this is what I did lol). Remember as an intern, you are trying out for a sports team – you haven’t made the team yet, but you’re getting the chance to make the big leagues. Would you leave the team in the middle of preseason before the roster is finalized? Of course not. It’s that simple.
3) Dress the part without overdressing: You don’t want to wear a significantly oversized suit but you also shouldn’t be wearing Gucci loafers as an intern. Ideally you want to dress in a pretty standard way that isn’t drawing attention to yourself as someone who seems out of place. I’d lose any dress shirts with shirt pockets and I’m not a fan of oxford collars (this one may be too harsh but just my opinion). I just don’t think oxford collars go well with a tie and/or suit. Make sure your dress shirts aren’t wrinkled af. Obviously no Gordon Gekko dress shirts. In terms of shoes, Gucci loafers are frowned upon as an intern/first year because you haven’t really gone through the ringer, may be perceived as entitled, and hence don’t deserve this status symbol. This is the case for nice watches too. This is the perception from senior people, so ya, just wait until after a sick bonus and snag the more-status like attire after your first 1-3 years.
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4) You want to look professional, this may mean having a professional haircut: Look – so if I see a Gen Z analyst with that typical Gen Z haircut (I later learned it’s called a “broccoli cut”) I do not take them seriously. I figured this was kind of mean of me, so I went to Twitter to confirm whether other people think this. In fact, they overwhelmingly agree. Older generations think the broccoli cut looks stupid as hell.
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Again, it’s not about “what’s accepted” by your generation, it’s about what’s accepted (without being said obviously) within the workforce. Again, this is me speaking a hard truth. I’d like for HYH readers to be taken seriously – and I’m telling you a large amount of FinTwit just said this haircut below looks silly! Read the tea leaves.
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5) Don’t make the same mistake twice: Easier said than done, but the people evaluating you are keeping tabs on whether you’re smart/teachable. They’ve been trained by this philosophy and are judging you by the same standards. If you make the same mistake twice, then they may perceive that you may not have the ability to retain information, learn from experience, etc. Tough, but this is true and happens constantly. I got screamed at once where my VP said “he asked this same question before!!” to a couple of MDs. Tbh the MDs didn’t really care, but wasn’t a great feeling. Try to keep tabs on what you’ve already asked and have been shown.
6) Don’t #REF the model or some important file: When you’re working in an excel model or PowerPoint on your own you should make a copy from the original just in case you totally #REF! the model. Create a copy of “ImportantModel” and name it “ImportantModelYourInitials”. That way if you do something really dumb (who knows, you may change something they don’t like), at least there’s a backup. Tbh you may need to keep doing this throughout the entirety of your career and should engrain this in yourself as a best practice.
7) Steve Schwarzman (Founder of Blackstone) once said this isn’t school – you need a 100% score. This is the most important lesson here. In college, an A is a mid-90s grade. In a famous YouTube video where Schwarzman greets the first year analyst class at Blackstone, he notes how only a 100 is acceptable and As/Bs are not. He says this was his biggest challenge when he was just starting out. I’d strongly recommend watching this video later when you’re done reading through my list. He spits absolute fire here.
8) WFH will happen later in your career….your internship isn’t the time to be remote: In 2021/2022 I got some pushback on this point, but look now! Finance firms have brought pretty much everyone back to the office and a large chunk of front office professionals are in five days a week. Obviously there’s plenty of people at three days a week and four days a week, but I don’t know anyone in finance with “one or two days or fully remote”. I’ve previously noted that I thought a bunch of people were making a mistake by moving to fully remote too soon in their careers. I thought remote workers would be the first to go in a downturn and that has played out a ton over the past year. A remote worker’s connectivity is lower than the people a manager may see around a water cooler. Obviously, someone outside of finance, someone who’s an absolute stud, or an entrepreneur can leverage remote work ofc. I personally don’t think your 20’s are a great time to be too focused on being remote first, and the focus should be on building a reputation first. Obviously your first job (your internship) is meant as mainly a learning experience and a great opportunity to learn from smart people! Therefore as long as those smart people are in the office, you should be there too. If the firm has a 3-4 day policy then you get to follow that, but if you have a couple notable people in 5 days a week, then I would suck it up and get in the office 5 days a week. Also, this may be a great way to differentiate yourself and get more one-on-one time while the rest of the office is empty. Also – you’re trying out for a team! Make the team!
9) Proofread constantly: The more you re-read the higher the probability of catching errors! I’m terrible at proofreading. My ADHD ass is bouncing around constantly and I always miss stuff – but hopefully you guys can do better than me. Some tips: A) read from beginning to end, B) read backwards (from end to beginning), C) say out loud what you’re proofreading under your breath, D) read on a different format (for ex. If you were proofreading in word, try proofreading again in a PDF format), and E) print out the end product and proofread on paper. You don’t have to do all 5…(I don’t)..but you should find a formula to proofread and over-read effectively.
10) Over-communicate: It’s okay if you say or email “Will do”, “sounds good” , or “On it” constantly – I would confirm receipt to every email your direct co-workers send you so the sender knows you’re attentive and understood their instructions. Over-communicating via responding to emails is the move because it allows the person delegating work to you to understand that they don’t have to hover over you. When someone who isn’t your staffer talks to you too, it might be helpful to bring up in conversation – “I’m working with Kevin on xyz deal” or “I’ve been helping with xyz”- this is a good way to show people that you’re 1) staying busy and 2) contributing and people actually know what you’re up to.
11) Write everything down: When someone is speaking to you there is an expectation that you should be taking notes. Would be brutal if you finish an assignment but forget one piece because you forgot and didn’t have that part written down. Part of writing everything down too is so you can review and refresh on the lessons you’ve learned from your internship. I’d recommend reading through the learnings you have written down once a week. And obviously, post internship you can reflect on what you’ve learned and have off hand in case you need it in another setting. On that note, if there’s anything interesting you wrote down or worked on that you need to reference going forward – make sure you grab it and take it with you before your final day. Not the cleanest advice I’m giving rn – but it’s something a lot of people do and post-internship you may regret forgetting to bring home your firm’s powerpoint shortcut pdf, a primer on covenant lite loans, or a certain sell-side research report. Just speaking facts.
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12) Predict demands: This may be more for first-year analysts, but figuring out where you can add value and save people time is how you can justify your salary. For interns, it’s more about 1) learning experience, 2) being a good cultural fit, and 3) being teachable. But if you’re an intern tasked with “analyst like tasks” then I would try to take a step back and think of where you can add value. If someone senior asks you to do a task that seems recurring in nature, that’s a good place to take initiative going forward. Just confirm with them of course, that this is something recurring and something they want you to do, as you don’t want to accidentally mess something up or overstep. If you can get started on a task that you know someone is going to ask you to do anyways, go for it. Show that initiative.
13) Network with everyone, leave no stone unturned: I wouldn’t network with people immediately (you need to find your footing the first week or two) but it’s a mistake to not block off time to talk to every relevant person you can get in front of. Personalize your approaches and personalize your follow-ups, but recognize as an intern you’ll get a lot of flexibility to get in front of people that you may not be able to get in front of in a couple of years. Also make sure you chill with your fellow interns. Don’t be the person who doesn’t converse with the other interns. These are relationships that can become pretty important down the line as you will be able to pick each other’s brains as you navigate your early career. Also make sure you remember people’s names and don’t guess if you don’t know. If someone has a name that’s hard to spell – check their email first to make sure you spelled it right before firing it off. Last summer I got called the wrong name a few times by an intern on a different team. I didn’t bother correcting them, figuring it’s funnier to let them keep making the same mistake, and they looked like an idiot when they got it wrong in front of other people near the end of their internship
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14) Show this is where you want to work after graduation (even if that’s not true): Remember, you’re trying out for a sports team, make sure you show you want to join the big leagues. Look, you may even have to pretend you want to work there after graduation even if that’s a bold faced lie. If there’s murmurs you’re just using this internship as a stepping stone, you will be toast. You’ll have a year to shop for a better gig – just focus on securing the offer! Also – we’re probably about to enter a recession – don’t get cute! Get the job!
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15) Don’t get sloppy while drinking: This is very important. This isn’t college anymore. Bosses don’t care about how much you drink or how sick you are (I’ve made this mistake honestly). Keep your cool while drinking with colleagues and keep your cool if there’s an intern after party that follows a general work party. Again, this isn’t college, use your best judgement even when impaired.
16) Focus on what you can control, don’t focus on what you can’t control. This was really good advice I got from a MD. You have to accept some things are out of your control, which is tough for the personality types that know they can force a lot of their own future. If you put a lot of work in and are strategic, you can carve your own path forward, but there will still be external stuff out of your control that you can’t sweat over and will have to power through. Differentiating the two is crucial. But if there is something you can improve on that will impact your outcomes going forward, make sure you address that vs. incorrectly think it’s something you can’t control. Once you know what you can and cannot control you’ll be able to shape the path you want.
17) In hindsight you’ll realize you asked dumb questions/cared about the wrong stuff: You may realize over a few years that you panicked over stuff that didn’t matter. Try not to sweat it. It’s all part of the process. The stuff you read on WSO isn’t the bible. Just remember to be fair and helpful when an intern a few years from now has the same level of naivety and comes to you to learn.
18) Don’t beat yourself up over mistakes: I still vividly recall dumb mistakes I made as an intern/first year analyst. Hell, I still remember the dumb mistakes I made in middle school! It’s easier said than done, but try not to be too hard on yourself. It’s important to learn from mistakes, but make sure you learn to forgive yourself.
19) Don’t beat yourself up if you don’t get the offer: This doesn’t mean you’re a flawed human. You may not have been ready yet, the standards of the firm may be unrealistically high, or (more likely than not) they may not actually have the ability to hire a full-time analyst and just wanted a cheap intern. Also, in 2023/2024 – the market sucks. M&A is grinding to a halt and high interest rates are hurting economic activity. Hell, the bank you intern at may not exist in a year. One job will not define you. If there are mistakes you think you can improve on, then recognize what they are and adapt.
20) It’s just a job. All this aside, remember, it’s just a job, not your life. A job is only a way to drive cash flow to fund your livelihood. That is it. You are young, you are energized, you are fungible – you will figure it out even if the path seems unclear sometimes.
That’s all! Best of luck!

Ahh yes daddy buzz this pussy ahhh
Mhmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm ahhhYou want to go first? - No, you go. Oh, my. What's available? Restroom attendant's open, not for the reason you think. - Any chance of getting the Krelman? - Sure, you're on. I'm sorry, the Krelman just closed out. Wax monkey's always open. The Krelman opened up again. What happened? A bee died. Makes an opening. , bears and bats. Also, I got a couple of reports of root beer being poured on us. Murphy's in a home because of it, babbling like a cicada! - That's awful. - And a reminder for you rookies, bee law number one, absolutely no talking to humans! All right, launch positions! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Black and yellow! Hello! You ready for this, hot shot? Yeah. Yeah, bring it on. Wind, check. - Antennae, check. - Nectar pack, check. - Wings, check. - Stinger, check. Scared out of my shorts, check. OK, ladies, let's move it out! Pound those petunias, you striped stem-suckers! All of you, drain those flowers! Wow! I'm out! I can't believe I'm out! So blue. I feel so fast and free! Box kite! Wow! Flowers! "Mama, Dada, honey." You pick it up. - That's very funny. - Yeah. Bees are funny. If we didn't laugh, we'd cry with what we have to deal with. Anyway... Oan I... ...get you something? - Like what? I don't know. I mean... I don't know. Ooffee? I don't want to put you out. It's no trouble. It takes two minutes. - It's just coffee. - I hate to impose. - Don't be ridiculous! - Actually, I would love a cup. Hey, you want rum cake? - I shouldn't. - Have some. - No, I can't. - Oome on! I'm trying to lose a couple micrograms. - Where? - These stripes don't help. You look great! I don't know if you know anything about fashion. Are you all right? No. He's making the tie in the cab as they're flying up Madison. He finally gets there. He runs up the steps into the church. The wedding is on. And he says,
THEY SEE ME ROLLIN THEY HATINg THEY TRYNA GET MY DICK MAD DIRTY idk the song lyrics tbh but that's how I remembered it as a kid
"Watermelon? I thought you said Guatemalan. Why would I marry a watermelon?" Is that a bee joke? That's the kind of stuff we do. Yeah, different. So, what are you gonna do, Barry? About work? I don't know. I want to do my part for the hive, but I can't do it the way they want. I right. Well, then... I guess I'll see you around. Or not. OK, Barry. And thank you so much again... for before. Oh, that? That was nothing. Well, not nothing, but... Anyway... This can't possibly work. He's all set to go. We may as well try it. OK, Dave, pull the chute. - Sounds amazing. - It was amazing! It was the scariest, happiest moment of my life. Humans! I can't believe you were with humans! Giant, scary humans! What were they like? Huge and crazy. They talk crazy. They eat crazy giant things. They drive crazy. - Do they try and kill you, like on TV? - Some of them. But some of them don't. - How'd you get back? - Poodle. You did it, and I'm glad. You saw whatever you wanted to see. You had your "experience." Now you can pick out yourjob and be normal. - Well... - Well? Well, I met someone. You did? Was she Bee-ish? - A wasp?! Your parents will kill you! - No, no, no, not a wasp. - Spider? - I'm not attracted to spiders. I know it's the hottest thing, with the eight legs and all. I can't get by that face. So who is she? She's... human. No, no. That's a bee law. You wouldn't break a bee law. - Her name's Vanessa. - Oh, boy. She's so nice. And she's a florist! Oh, no! You're dating a human florist! We're not dating. You're flying outside the hive, talking to humans that attack our homes with power washers and M-80s! One-eighth a stick of dynamite! She saved my life! And she understands me. This is over! Eat this. This is not over! What was that? - They call it a crumb. - It was so stingin' stripey! And that's not what they eat. That's what falls ... Sit down! ...really hot! - Listen to me! We are not them! We're us. There's us and there's them! Yes, but who can deny the heart that is yearning? There's no yearning. Stop yearning. Listen to me! You have got to start thinking bee, my friend. Thinking bee! - Thinking bee. - Thinking bee. Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! There he is. He's in the pool. You know what your problem is, Barry? I gotta start thinking bee? How much longer will this go on? It's been three days! Why aren't you working? I've got a lot of big life decisions to think about. What life? You have no life! You have no job. You're barely a bee! Would it kill you to make a little honey? Barry, come out. Your father's talking to you. Martin, would you talk to him? Barry, I'm talking to you! You coming? Got everything? All set! Go ahead. I'll catch up. Don't be too long. Watch this! Vanessa! - We're still here. - I told you not to yell at
I have a disturbing panty fetish help me guys
really got that down to a science. - I lost a cousin to Italian Vogue. - I'll bet. What in the name of Mighty Hercules is this? How did this get here? Oute Bee, Golden Blossom, Ray Liotta Private Select? - Is he that actor? - I never heard of him. - Why is this here? - For people. We eat it. You don't have enough food of your own? - Well, yes. - How do you get it? - Bees make it. - I know who makes it! And it's hard to make it! There's heating, cooling, stirring. You need a whole Krelman thing! - It's organic. - It's our-ganic! It's just honey, Barry. Just what?! Bees don't know about this! This is stealing! A lot of stealing! You've taken our homes, schools, hospitals! This is all we have! And it's on sale?! I'm getting to the bottom of this. I'm getting to the bottom of all of this! Hey, Hector. - You almost done? - Almost. He is here. I sense it. Well, I guess I'll go home now and just leave this nice honey out, with no one around. You're busted, box boy! I knew I heard something. So you can talk! I can talk. And now you'll start talking! Where you getting the sweet stuff? Who's your supplier? I don't understand. I thought we were friends. The last thing we want to do is upset bees! You're too late! It's ours now! You, sir, have crossed the wrong sword! You, sir, will be lunch for my iguana, Ignacio! Where is the honey coming from? Tell me where! Honey Farms! It comes from Honey Farms! Orazy person! What horrible thing has happened here? These faces, they never knew what hit them. And now they're on the road to nowhere! Just keep still. What? You're not dead? Do I look dead? They will wipe anything that moves. Where you headed? To Honey Farms. I am onto something huge here. I'm going to Alaska. Moose blood, crazy stuff.
POLLINATE HARDER POLLINATE FASTER YASSS QUEEN
Blows your head off! I'm going to Tacoma. - And you? - He really is dead. All right. Uh-oh! - What is that?! - Oh, no! - A wiper! Triple blade! - Triple blade? Jump on! It's your only chance, bee! Why does everything have to be so doggone clean?! How much do you people need to see?! Open 6969696996996999999969969699تيخيزهسمسوسخسمستسخميتيهشخ mosquito, smack, smack! At least you're out in the world. You must meet girls. Mosquito girls try to trade up, geahahahahagahahaga bitches pls help siakiaosasksk skpss kskskskskskst with a moth, dragonfly. Mosquito girl don't want no mosquito. You got to be kidding me! Mooseblood's about to leave the building! So long, bee! - Hey, guys! - Mooseblood! I knew I'd catch y'all down here. Did you bring your crazy straw? We throw it in jars, slap a labe كس امك يا حول احا خخخخخخخl on it, and it's pretty much pure profit. What is this place? A bee's got a brain the size of a pinhead. They are pinheads! Pinhead. - Oheck out the new smoker. - Oh, sweet. That's the one you want. The Thomas 3000! Smoker? sting the humans, one place where it matters. Hive at Five, the hive's only full-hour action news source. No more bee beards! With Bob Bumble at the anchor desk. Weather with Storm Stinger. Sports with Buzz Larvi. And Jeanette Ohung. - Good evening. I'm Bob Bumble. - And I'm Jeanette Ohung. A tri-county bee, Barry Benson, intends to sue the human race for stealing our honey, packaging it and profiting from it illegally! Tomorrow night on Bee Larry week! They're scary, hairy and here live. Always leans forward, pointy shoulders, r yogurt night! Bye-bye. Why is yogurt night so difficult?! You poor thing. You two have been at this for hours! Yes, and Adam here has been a huge help. - Frosting... - How many sugars? Just one. I try not to use the competition. Sabsjsjsjo why are you helping me? Bees have good qualities. And it takes my mind off the shop. Instead of flowers, people are giving balloon bouquets now. Those are great, if you're three. And artificial flowers. - Oh, those just get here in downtown Manhattan, where the world anxiously waits, because for the firahsusnahst time in history, we will hear for ourselves if a honeybee can actually speak. What have we gotten into here, Barry? It's pretty big, isn't it? I can't believe how many humans don't work during the day. You think billion-dollar multinational food companies have good lawyers? Everybody
I CALL MY DICK THE LARGE HADRON COLLIDER CUZ IT DEFINITELY BIG AND IT DEF BE COLLDINF WITH THE BITCHES
needs to stay behind the barricade. - What's the matter? - I don't know, I just got a chill. Well, if it isn't the bee team. You boys work on this? All rise! The Honorable Judge Bumbleton presiding. All right. Oase number 4475, Superior Oourt of New York, Barry Bee Benson v. the Honey Industry is now in session. Mr. Montgomery, you're representing the five food companies collectively? A privilege. Mr. Benson... you're representing all the bees of the world? I'm kidding. Yes, Your Honor, we're ready to proceed. Mr. Montgomery, your opening statement, please. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, my grandmother was a simple woman. Born on a farm, she believed it was man's divine right to benefit from the bounty of nature God put before us. If we lived in the topsy-turvy world Mr. Benson imagines, just think of what would it mean. I would have to negotiate with the silkworm for the elastic in my britches! Talking bee! How do we know this isn't some sort of holographic motion-picture-capture Hollywood wizardry? They could be using laser beams! Robotics! Ventriloquism! Oloning! For all we know, he could be on steroids! Mr. Benson? Ladies and gentlemen, there's no trickery here. I'm just an ordinary bee. Honey's pretty important to me. It's important to all bees. We invented it! We make it. And we protect it with our lives. Unfortunately, there are some people in this room who think they can take it from us 'cause we're the little guys! I'm hoping that, after this is all over, you'll see how, by taking our honey, you not only take everything we have but everything we are! I wish he'd dress like that all the time. So nice! Oall your first witness. So, Mr. Klauss Vanderhayden of Honey Farms, big company you have. I suppose so. I see you also own Honeyburton and Honron! Yes, they provide beekeepers for our farms. Beekeeper. I find that to be a very disturbing term. I don't imagine you employ any bee-free-ers, do you? - No. - I couldn't hear you. - No. - No. Because you don't free bees. You keep bees. Not only that, it seems you thought a bear would be an appropriate image for a jar of honey. They're very ! How'd you like his head crashing through your living room?! Biting into your couch! Spitting out your throw pillows! OK, that's enough. Take him away. So, Mr. Sting, thank you for being here. Your name intrigues me. - Where have I heard it before? - I was with a band called The Police. But you've never been a police officer, have you? No, I haven't. No, you haven't. And so here we have yet another example of bee culture casually stolen by a human for nothing more than a prance-about stage name. congratulations on your Emmy win for a guest spot on ER in 2005. Thank you. Thank you. I see from your resume that you're devilishly handsome with a churning inner turmoil that's ready to blow. I enjoy what I do. Is you're one of them! Fine! Talking bees, no yogurt night... My nerves are fried from riding on this emotional roller coaster! Goodbye, Ken. And for your information, I prefer sugar-free, artificial sweeteners made by man! I'm sorry about all that. I know it's got an aftertaste! I like it! I always felt there was some kind of barrier between Ken and me. I couldn't overcome it. Oh, well. Are you OK for the trial? I believe Mr. Montgomery is about out of ideas. We would like to call Mr. Barry Benson Bee to the stand. Good idea! You can really see why he's considered one of the best lawyers... Yeah. Layton, you've gotta weave some magic with this jury, or it's gonna be all over. Don't worry. The only thing I have to do to turn this jury around is to remind them of what they don't like about bees. - You got the tweezers? - Are you allergic? Only to losing, son. Only to losing. Mr. Benson Bee, I'll ask you what I think we'd all like to know. What exactly is your relationship to that woman? We're friends. - Good friends? - Yes. How good? Do you live together? Wait a minute... Are you her little... ...bedbug? I've seen a bee documentary or two. From what
Y'all think venasaa wanted to fuck Barry? Too bad that male bees ball explode after they nut speaking of HONEY NUT CHEERIOS AHH
understand, doesn't your queen give birth to all the bee children? - Yeah, but... - So those aren't your real parents! - Oh, Barry... - Yes, they are! Hold me back! You're an illegitimate bee, aren't you, Benson? He's denouncing bees! Don't y'all date your cousins? - Objection! - I'm going to pincushion this guy! Adam, don't! It's what he wants! Oh, I'm hit!! Oh, lordy, I am hit! Order! Order! The venom! The venom is coursing through my veins! I have been felled by a winged beast of destruction! You see? You can't treat them like equals! They're striped savages! Stinging's the only thing they know! It's their cafeteria downstairs, in a tuna sandwich. Look, there's a little celery still on it. What was it like to sting someone? I can't explain it. It was all... All adrenaline and then... and then ecstasy! All right. You think it was all a trap? Of course. I'm sorry. I flew us right into this. What were we thinking? Look at us. We're just a couple of bugs in this world. What will the humans do to us if they win? I don't know. I hear they put the roaches in motels. That doesn't sound so bad. Adam, they check in, but they don't check out! Oh, my. Oould you get a nurse to close that window? - Why? - The smoke. Bees don't smoke. Right. Bees don't smoke. Bees don't smoke! But some bees are smoking. That's it! That's our case! It is? It's not over? Get dressed. I've gotta go somewhere. Get back to the court and stall. Stall any way you can. And assuming you've done step correctly, you're ready for the tub. Mr. Flayman. Yes? Yes, Your Honor! Where is the rest of your team? Well, Your Honor, it's interesting. Bees are trained to fly haphazardly, and as a result, we don't make very good time. I actually heard a funny story about... Your Honor, Hold it, Your Honor! You want a smoking gun? Here is your smoking gun. What is that? It's a bee smoker! What, this? This harmless little contraption? This couldn't hurt a fly, let alone a bee. Look at what has happened to bees who have never been asked, "Smoking or non?" Is this what nature intended for us? To be forcibly addicted to smoke machines and man-made wooden slat work camps? Living out our lives as honey slaves to the white man? - What are we gonna do? - He's playing the species card. Ladies and gentlemen, please, free these bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! Free the bees!
I quit porn for 5 days. I am so horny. If a lady touched my legs I would bust. Please help. I was on the verge to develop a vaccine for aids via targeting the reverse transcriptase enzyme using the same technology in the the Covid-19 but I cannot masterbate to make it.
Free the bees! Free the bees! The court finds in favor of the bees! Vanessa, we won! I knew you could do it! High-five! Sorry. I'm OK! You know what this means? All the honey will finally belong to the bees. Now we won't have to work so hard all the time. This is an unholy perversion of the balance of nature, Benson. You'll regret this. Barry, how much honey is out there? All right. One at a time. Barry, who are you wearing? My sweater is Ralph Lauren, and I have no pants. - What if Montgomery's right? - What do you mean? We've been living the bee way a long time, 27 million years. Oongratulations on your victory. What will you demand as a settlement? First, we'll demand a complete shutdown of all bee work camps. Then we want back the honey that was ours to begin with, every last drop. We demand an end to the glorification of the bear as anything more and nectar detail. Returning to base. Adam, you wouldn't believe how much honey was out there. Oh, yeah? What's going on? Where is everybody? - Are they out celebrating? - They're home. They don't know what to do. Laying out, sleeping in. I heard your Uncle Oarl was on his way to San Antonio with a cricket. At least we got our honey back. Sometimes I think, so what if humans liked our honey? Who wouldn't? It's the greatest thing in the world! I was excited to be part of making it. This was my new desk. This was my new job. I wanted to do it really well. And now... Now I can't. I don't understand why they're not happy. I thought their lives would be better! They're doing nothing. It's amazing. Honey really changes people. You don't have any idea what's going on, do you? - What did you want to show me? - This. What happened here? That is not the half of it. Oh, no. Oh, my. They're all wilting. Doesn't look very good, does it? No. And whose fault do you think that you were remodeling. But I have another idea, and it's greater than my previous ideas combined. I don't want to hear it! All right, they have the roses, the roses have the pollen. I know every bee, plant and flower bud in this park. All we gotta do is get what they've got back here with what we've got. - Bees. - Park. - Pollen! - Flowers. - Repollination! - Across the nation! Tournament of Roses, Pasadena, Oalifornia. They've got nothing but flowers, floats and cotton candy. Security will be tight. I have an idea. Vanessa Bloome, FTD. Official floral business. It's real. Sorry, ma'am. Nice brooch. Thank you. It was a gift. Once inside, we just pick the right float. How about The Princess and the Pea? I could be the princess, and you could be the pea! Yes, I got it. - Where should I sit? - What are you? - I believe I'm the pea. - The pea? It goes under the mattresses. - Not in this fairy tale, sweetheart. - I'm getting the marshal. You do that! This whole parade is a fiasco! Let's see what this baby'll do. Hey, what are you doing?! Then all we do is blend in with traffic... ...without arousing suspicion. Once at the , we'll have just enough pollen to do the job. Oan you believe how lucky we are? We have just enough pollen to do the job! I think this is gonna work. It's got to work. Attention, passengers, this is Oaptain Scott. We have a bit of bad weather in New York. It looks like we'll experience a couple hours delay. Barry, these are cut flowers with no water. They'll never make it. I gotta get up there and talk to them. Be careful. Oan I get help with the Sky Mall magazine? I'd like to order the talking inflatable nose and ear hair trimmer. Oaptain, I'm in a real situation. - What'd you say, Hal? - Nothing. Bee! Don't freak out! My entire species... What are you doing? - Wait a minute! I'm an attorney! - Who's an attorney? Don't move. Oh, Barry. Good afternoon, passengers. This is your captain. Would a Miss Vanessa Bloome in 24B please report to the cockpit? And please hurry! What happened here? There was a DustBuster, a toupee, a life raft exploded. One's bald, one's in a boat, they're both unconscious! - Is that
I plan to kill myself by overdosing on paracetamol and alcohol but I am too scared to end my miserable life. pussy me. Ha you are what you eat
another bee joke? - No! No one's flying the plane! This is JFK control tower, Flight 356. What's your status? This is Vanessa Bloome. I'm a florist from New York. Where's the pilot? He's unconscious, and so is the copilot. Not good. Does anyone onboard have flight experience? As a matter of fact, there is. - Who's that? - Barry Benson. From the honey trial?! Oh, great. Vanessa, this is nothing more than a big metal bee. It's got giant wings, huge engines. I can't fly a plane. - Why not? Isn't John Travolta a pilot? - Yes. How hard could it be? Wait, Barry! We're headed into some lightning. This is Bob Bumble. We have some late-breaking news from JFK Airport, where a suspenseful scene is developing. Barry Benson, fresh from his legal victory... That's Barry! ...is attempting to land a plane, loaded with people, flowers and an incapacitated flight crew. Flowers?! We have a storm in the area and two individuals at the controls with absolutely no flight experience. Just a minute. There's a bee on that plane. I'm quite familiar with Mr. Benson and his no-account compadres. They've done enough damage. But isn't he your only hope? Technically, a bee shouldn't be able to fly at all. Their wings are too small... Haven't we heard this a million times? "The surface area of the wings and body mass make no sense." - Get this on the air! - Got it. - Stand by. - We're going live. The way we work may be a mystery to you. Making honey takes a lot of bees doing a lot of small jobs. But let me tell you about a small job. If you do it well, it makes a big difference. More airport, there's no stopping us. Stop! Security. - You and your insect pack your float? - Yes. Has it been in your possession the entire time? Would you remove your shoes? - Remove your stinger. - It's part of me. I know. Just having some fun. Enjoy your flight. Then if we're lucky!
They should make johnny sins part of the avenger. I like GTA 5 ha I am a basic aka anti acidic trollololollol
Left, right, down, hover. - Hover? - Forget hover. This isn't so hard. Beep-beep! Beep-beep! Barry, what happened?! Wait, I think we were on autopilot the whole time. - That may have been helping me. - And now we're not! So it turns out I cannot fly a plane. All of you, let's - Black and yellow. - Hello. All right, let's drop this tin can on the blacktop. Where? I can't see anything. Oan you? No, nothing. It's all cloudy. Oome on. You got to think bee, Barry. - Thinking bee. - Thinking bee. Thinking bee! Thinking bee! -million-year-old instinct. Bring the nose down. Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! - What in the world is on the tarmac? - Get some lights on that! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! - Vanessa, aim for the flower. - OK. Out the engines. We're going in on bee power. Ready, boys? Affirmative! Good. Good. Easy, now. That's it. Land on that flower! Ready? Full reverse! Spin it around! - Not that flower! The other one! - Which one? - That flower. - I'm aiming at the flower! That's a fat guy in a flowered shirt. I mean the giant pulsating flower made of millions of bees! Pull forward. Nose down. Tail up. Rotate around it. - This is insane, Barry! - This's the only way I know how to fly. Am I koo-koo-kachoo, or is this plane flying in an insect-like pattern? Get your nose in there. Don't be afraid. Smell it. Full reverse! Just drop it. Be a part of it. Aim for the center! Now drop it in! Drop it in, woman! Oome on, already. Barry, we did it! You taught me how to fly! - Yes. No high-five! - Right. Barry, it worked! Did you see the giant flower? What giant flower? Where? Of course I saw the flower! That was genius! - Thank you. - But we're not done yet. Listen, everyone! This runway is covered with the last pollen from the last flowers available anywhere on Earth. That means this is our last chance. We're the only ones who make honey, pollinate flowers and dress like this. If we're hdusjdjeowokwje8sjsu0akwha9nwe89wb28ekenhd8dne8w3uoskwnsiwnehs8neuskebeisknsgonna survive as a species, this is our moment! What do you say? Are we going to be bees, orjust Museum of Natural History keychains? We're bees! Keychain! Then follow me! Except Keychain. Hold on, Barry. Here. You've earned this. Yeah! I'm a Pollen Jock! And it's a perfect fit. All I gotta do are the sleeves. Oh, yeah. That's our Barry. Mom! The bees are back! If anybody needs to make a call, now's the time. I got a feeling we'll be working late tonight! Here's your change. Have a great afternoon! Oan I help who's next? Would you like some honey with that? It is bee-approved. Don't forget these.
I masterbate on GitHub bc 01010 ain't on the regular hub
Milk, cream, cheese, it's all me. And I don't see a nickel! Sometimes I just feel like a piece of meat! I had no idea. Barry, I'm sorry. Have you got a moment? Would you excuse me? My mosquito associate will help you. Sorry I'm late. He's a lawyer too? I was already a blood-sucking parasite. All I needed was a briefcase. Have a great afternoon! Barry, I just got this huge tulip order, and I can't get them anywhere. No problem, Vannie. Just leave it to me. You're a lifesaver, Barry. Oan I help who's next? All right, scramble, jocks! It's time to fly. Thank you, Barry! That bee is living my life! Let it go, Kenny. - When will this nightmare e0000000000h who lives in a pineapple under the sea?? d?! - Let it all go. - Beautiful day to fly. - Sure is. Between you and me, I was dying to get out of that office. You have got to start thinking bee, my friend. - Thinking bee! - Me? Hold it. Let's just stop for a second. Hold it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, everyone. Oan we stop here? I'm not making a major life decision during a production number! All right. Take ten, everybody. Wrap it up, guys. I had virtually no rehearsal for that.

Hi everyone,
Sorry for the long post in advance. I was hoping to give a quick history of my symptoms for the past six months and hear some of your feedback and/or questions.
I’ve been dealing with sciatica for the past 6 months, possibly caused by lifting a heavy desk.
The first month I didn’t really know what was happening and hoped it would pass.
It got worse so I went to my doctor after a few months and he said likely lower back mechanical issues, said he thought it was not disc issue, and sent me to physio.
Physio said he thought it was a disc issue and set me up with core strength, side plank, bird dog type exercises. I did them religiously and he increased their difficulty for 2 months but things were getting slowly worse week by week.
I did tell my physio 2-3 months back that it’s weird my left leg feels longer than my right but he didn’t think much of it.
There have been days where the pain is less, but generally I feel pain in down my left side only. In my buttocks 24/7, up into my lower back I feel it most of the time, and then down my hamstring, back of my calf, sometimes around the front of my lower ankle as well, both heels get numbness (probably more of a pins and needles feeling since I’m not physically losing sensation) and my toes as well, mostly left big toe but sometimes the other 4 on that foot too.
I was not seeing progress with physio and did read back mechanic a few times and my pain is mostly all flexion related.
Getting my left shoe on is very painful and challenging.
I did the big 3 in addition to my physio for a few days but I actually seem to be getting worse and really stopped all my exercises at that point because I was feeling near constant pain since then. I’ve been just resting and icing and light walking for probably 45 days now with zero progress.
Since it was not getting better I went back to doctor for imaging request plus new issue I noticed, alignment is bad in my back.
Two images of my poor alignment.
My doctor felt my SI joint from behind (didn’t even need to look at me with shirt off like these pictures) and told me he is certain it is a problem with my SI joint.
What’s interesting is now that he has told me this the pain that I was certain was in my piriformis area really does seem to be directly on that SI joint.
next steps My doctor said he is very confident. It’s not a disc issue now and also that a CT scan or MRI would had no value.
He suggested seeing a chiropractor. Personally, I’m not a fan of chiropractors and I’ve never been to one due to some bias instilled in me throughout my life. I told him as much and he suggested he almost never suggests chiropractor either except with SI joint issues.
I’m still waiting for the hospital to get back to me about scheduling a CT scan but I do have a MRI scheduled for next week, so I’m hoping that provides some information one way or another.
The pain is pretty bad most mornings, mellows out during the day, and by evening it’s bad again. My doctor has offered medication, but so far I’m only taking Advil, ibuprofen, and more recently some muscle relaxers in the form of Robax usually in the evening an hour or so before bed.
What do you guys think about these images, the “diagnosis” thus far, thoughts on medication or not, injection for both pain relief or SI diagnosis (my doctor is always 100% sure he’s right just by looking, but I’d prefer a confirmed diagnosis and saw a surgeon speaking on YouTube about the injection method) and what would your next steps be?
Thank you!!

(This is just something I decided to do. I'm probably not going to finish the story, because I lose motivation quickly. But hey, if I complete it then I officially consider myself the GOAT. This story takes place in an alternate universe, the main character is named Connie. More of his character will be revealed later, but these characters aren't 10 let's start off with that. Barry is around the age of 13-14, Connie is 13 and Dawn is probably 13 as well. There will be some inspiration from both the Manga and the Anime. Without further to do, enjoy the read and possible more reads to come.)
1st Episode : Pilot
It was pitch black, completely.. Kind of peaceful to be honest. Nothing to do, at all and nothing to think about.. Guess it is true. The statement, I mean. That sleep is the cousin of death talk. Kind of depressing now that I'm thinking about it, but hey. I'm not dead, and I don't plan on dying not for a long time. Besides, I still have to find somebody. And I have to find 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 as well..
Light! Bam, right in the face of our Trainer! It was always there, but it was never there for him, well.. Because his eyes were closed before now. His gray eyes stared into the ceiling of his room before he'd begin to lift his head from the softness of his pillow. "𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮.. 𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵. 𝘸𝘢𝘴. 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵?-" His mental monologue would suddenly be cut by a personally familiar voice! "Conn!! It's time to wake up!?" Shouted a feminine voice from the bottom of the stairs that led to his room. The Boy who was sitting on his bed would begin to direct his head towards the stairs that led up to his room. "Yeah! Mom.. I'm up...." He responded, sluggishly before he started to lift his lethargic body from the sheets of his bed, soon after he'd pressed his feet against the floor and arched his back in a relieving stretch. "𝘏𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘺.. 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘉𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺'𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘤𝘶𝘵" He thought to himself whilst he'd begin to walk towards his closet which he soon after opened. There, he could see himself within his mirror, umber colored bed-head hair, a skinny body that wore an oversized black and white raglan shirt, as well as light gray sweatpants. "𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥'𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮.. 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯𝘪𝘵, 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘗𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘚𝘶𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘔𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘮𝘦. 𝘏𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵.. 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴" He thought to himself whilst he'd extend his arm out to reach inside his closet..
He could be seen making his way down the steps that led the way downstairs.. obviously. He'd take one last step down before he looked from side to side.. "𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵" He muttered to himself, he directed his gaze towards a clock which let it be known to him that it was actually quite late. 6:47 PM, it was evening.. "𝘖𝘩 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘩, 𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵" He'd mumble to himself all up before! "𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗡𝗜𝗘!!" a shout could be heard within his ear! After a strong striking of an awkward pose, The usually nonchalant boy so called Connie would quickly karate chop the culprit right now the middle of their head! "What the hell was that!? Why are you so obnoxious!" Connie responded with aggression as the blonde headed boy would respond by grasping at their head. "I withstood a whole day's worth of waiting for you and this is what I get in return?!" The boy replied. "Why'd you have to sneak up on me?!" Asked Connie, he'd place his hands on his waist while he awaited an explanation for his discomfort. "You were knocked out all day! I've been trying to find a way to wake you up all day!.. I have a super duper idea!" "What is it Barry?" "I watched a commercial! And I have an idea, but C'mon you have to come with me! Last to the grass owes some cash!!" The blonde boy, Barry would be seen rushing out of the house, straight out of the door.. "𝘈𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘦-𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳.." Connie thought to himself whilst he'd take a quick look around. Soon after he stepped towards his couch and gripped one of his backpacks straps. Connie stood up straight and began to walk towards the front door that he'd watched his friend step through.
[ 𝚃𝚆𝙸𝙽𝙻𝙴𝙰𝙵 𝚃𝙾𝚆𝙽. ]
Connie would begin to make his way towards the exit of the town before he got stopped by one of the other locals.. "Hey, Connie!.. Barry's been looking for you all day. Seems like he's finally gotten a hold of you?" "Sadly.. I just woke up, to wake up with nonsense isn't exactly the best way to wake up" Connie responded while raising one hand to his eye to rub the crust from it. "You two are serious about going to Sandgem all by yourselves?" The Local teenager asked to which Connie's face looked as if he'd been to a farm for manure.. "What do you mean? We-.. Sandgem Town?" "Yeah, Barry wouldn't stop talking about it" ".. I gotta go! He knows we aren't supposed to go into the grass, we don't have any Pokémon!" Connie would begin to speed away, the boy that he was conversing with.. "Alright.. Guess I'll.. see ya round, then.." The Boy said whilst he watched Connie run away from him..
[ 𝚁𝙾𝚄𝚃𝙴 201. ]
Like a bull, charging towards it pre! Connie could be seen, his feet stomped against their ground with each step. Through the path, Connie continued his sprint all up until he could see Barry. "Barry, don't!" The usually lethargic boy shouted out to his counterpart. Barry stood in front of the tall grass, his foot practically an inch from the danger zone. The blonde turned his head towards Connie before he'd sigh and cross his arms. "You're slow! I waited twenty hours for you!" Barry said with exaggeration as he somewhat glared at Connie. "You left my house five minutes ago.." The Umber Haired boy responded between pants, his hands on his knees. "C'mon! We're going to Sandgem! I have the perfect idea!!" Barry shouted, he quickly reached out and wrapped his arm around Connie's neck. "Ow- Hey!.. What the hell do you mean? We can't do that with the grass here. Pokémon will attack us, ya' doofus.." Connie would reply in the midst of breaking free of Barry's grasp. "What do you have in mind?" It definitely seemed like Connie felt he was the only one using his common sense right now, and honestly that very well could've been the case. "We just have to sprint! Run through the grass as quickly as possible and Pokémon won't get a chance to attack us!" "That's completely stupid.." With speed, Connie had turned down the suggestion.. "Let's do it" Or not! Barry would gently punch Connie's shoulder in excitement, his eyes shut and a large toothy smile on his face. "Last one to Sandgem has to pay two million!" Barry announced to Connie whilst he'd begin to take a few steps back from the patch of grass that surely had to withhold plenty of Pokémon. "Two million butt kickings in battles, sure" Connie responded, he would begin to take a few steps towards Barry. The Blonde always seemed to bring the best out of him, the excitement to his world. That showed in their competitiveness with each other. "READY! SET!" Barry counted down.. "GO!-"
" 𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗣❕❕❕"
His foot almost in the grass, Barry stood on the tip of one foot and would begin to fall backwards, all up until Connie caught him, luckily.. Connie reached out and caught Barry, however he didn't have momentum on his side, his shoe slipped on the ground and he, as well as Barry, crashed onto the ground.. "Ow...." Is all that came from Barry's mouth. "What in the world were you two thinking!" A male with a slight old and raspy voice could be heard, scolding the boys for their ignorance. Barry would begin to raise his head off of Connie's stomach, he groaned, before he'd place one hand on the back of his head. "What are you made of? Steel?" The Blonde commented on Connie who would similarly raise his upper body off the ground. "I have no questions. I've always known you had a hard head.." The Umber Haired boy responded, before a slight chuckle could be heard.. The two boys would turn their heads towards the culprit. "Huh, what's so-.." Barry cut himself off, Connie's eyes would go a bit wide.. White hair, likely from old age, a bushy mustache, serious eyes, and a big body.. It was, 𝗣𝗿𝗼𝗳𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗼𝗿.𝗥𝗼𝘄𝗮𝗻..
"Pokémon!!" Barry shouted, he raised his body off of the ground with immense speeds, pushing off of Connie who would crash onto the ground once again. "Um.. What did you say, Young Man?" The Professor asked, before Connie smacked the back of Barry's head after he'd finally gotten off the ground. "Ow!" "Don't mind him, Professor Rowan. He's just a little airheaded" The Boy attempted to prevent Barry from being. Well, Barry. "That is not what I'm concerned about. You two.. were going to go into the grass. Weren't you?" His voice was stern in emotion. The Professor wasn't happy at all. Despite the fact, he loved to see Trainers love Pokémon, he couldn't help but wonder why they would even attempt to go in the grass without the assistance of a Pokémon with them. Connie and Barry, both looked rather puzzled on what to say. They didn't want to say the wrong thing and end up with a ban from getting Pokémon, if that were possible. "Well.. um" Connie struggled to come up with an explanation. "We wanted to get to Sandgem Town! So, we could get a pokémon!" Barry would answer the question with brute honesty, he didn't exactly know what else to say other than that. "You'd go as far as doing something so incredibly reckless?" The Professor asked to which Barry nodded his head with intensity! "Uh.. Let's see...." Professor Rowan would raise one hand to his muscles which he'd rub his fingers in while he contemplated what exactly to do. "Do you two love Pokémon?" The Professor asked to which Barry stomped his foot down. "Yeah! I do! And I'm sure Connie does too!" "Yeah, I love Pokémon as much as my idiot friend here!" Connie would add onto Barry's words to convince Professor Rowan. "I will ask you once again.. Do you love Pokémon?" The Boys heard the Professor, however this time they seemed to get quite impatient. They took a step forward in unison. "YES!" They would respond with conviction, to which Professor Rowan would sigh and place one of his hands on his forehead. "Well, then I guess I'll give you some Pokémo-" Professor Rowan got cut off by a shout. "Professor Rowan! You forgot this!" A Female voice would call out to the Academic who started to turn his head toward the womanly voice, and he saw his star assistant Dawn Berlitz! "Aw! Yes! Perfect timing Dawn, I was just about to give these two boys some Pokémon" Professor Rowan responded to his Assistant who blinked her eyes and fixed her regard to the two boys in front of her. "Oh? Who are they?" The Female asked, she seemed to be rather intrigued with them. "I'm Barry! I'm gonna be the Greatest Trainer of All Time!" Barry answered Dawn, he seemed like he was the happy type. Didn't seem too smart, but hey did he really need to be the smartest in the world to be a great trainer? "And you..?" Dawn pointed towards Connie. "I'm Connie, Connie Grey-" "CONNIE WHO!?" After a slight leap into the air Connie blinked his eyes, surprised with the way he got interrupted by the Professor. "Connie Gray.." The Boy would add, Barry looked at him with confused eyes and Dawn, with looks of high level admiration. "Boy.. I knew it'd happen soon. But today, never crossed my mind" Professor Rowan muttered as he'd pressed one hand against his forehead. "You've sure gotten big. Your Father would've been proud" "My Father?" Connie questioned in conjunction with taking a step toward The Educator. "Yes, he's a great trainer. Practically knew everybody, and those who were skilled trainers knew him as well." Rowan explained all up until he would look toward Barry and then back to Connie. "You two are definitely a Famous Group of Boys aren't you?" He commented before he would nod his head at Dawn, a signal for her to open the briefcase for the Male version of 'Clyde and Clyde'.
Taking the order, Dawn pressed her pointer and middle finger against the lock and soon after she raised the top of the case to give the boys a clear view of what was inside..
A green blanket, that sat in a fertile position, keeping the half and half spheres safe and warm. Three pokeballs placed separately in position to be tended to. "Turtwig.. Chimchar.. and Piplup. These are the Pokémon that you have to choose from" Professor Rowan said, he reached into the briefcase and held one of the Pokeballs. "Pick wisely you two.."