“How did they find us?” Tony asked, once they’d finally gotten the last of the bodies cleaned up and flown away. It was late afternoon and both of the girls were back to sleep, Ashina snoring lightly, and Ziva was watching over them with a wistful smile, a deep sigh heaving her shoulders as Tony watched her.
They had come so close to losing everything, and he shuddered at the thought.
When Gibbs didn’t respond right away, Tony continued. “Come to think of it, how did you find us?” People always said the world was small, but geographically speaking, it was anything but. The fact that they’d been located – in just over two and a half years, it seemed – was surprising, though Tony had to admit his relief at not having to worry about Widow anymore.
“They led us to you,” was all the man said, which was almost infuriating in its complete lack of an answer, and even McGee was smart enough to pick up on it and supplement.
“We don’t really know,” McGee began, glancing over at Ziva. “We couldn’t find you on any surveillance, and we looked over every airport video for a month leading to when we discovered you were gone.” He kept his gaze trained on Ziva, noting with apprehension how she’d been apart from the conversation for the past several minutes now, too wrapped up in watching her daughters sleep. Her daughters, McGee thought to himself, pausing for a brief moment to shake his head in disbelief. That would take some getting used to. “But Widow was stupid enough not to cover their tracks, and as soon as we could tell that they were headed somewhere with a purpose, we were right behind them. We only hoped you’d be able to hold out long enough for us to get here.”
“It was… pretty close,” Tony mused, unwilling to think about what might have happened if the team hadn’t arrived when they had. As it was, his side wasn’t in the greatest shape after having been grazed by a bullet and he was pretty sure at least one of his ribs was broken, but he was lucky. “And we didn’t go to the same airport, Ziva and I. We flew out on the same night, but we didn’t travel anywhere together until we got to Brazil.”
Absently, he rubbed his side, wincing slightly at the pain his light touch caused. The other two agents – the new ones whose names he’d already forgotten – were outside, and Tony could hear them speaking to each other, though he couldn’t make out their words. It had been necessary for the team to take on newbies, of course, but he’d been a bit surprised to see the unfamiliar faces all the same.
“So now what?” Ziva asked, finally turning from her spot in the back of the cabin, her hand brushing across her cheek as she wiped the last remnant of a tear from her eyes. No one dared begrudge her this show of emotion.
“You come home,” was all Gibbs said, as though that was the simplest and most obvious solution.
saitama is frankly such a millennial icon. like. the apathetic way he acts about most things. the fact that he just wants to find a decent job so he can pay for his basic needs. how he runs from commitment. how he let a near stranger move into his house only because he promised to pay the rent. just. what an icon.
So I’m a tiny 18 y/o girl (my coworkers call me “our little girl”) and I work in this restaurant/bar, and last night (4/15) I was working behind the bar (which means tending to people who sit at the bar and bringing out drinks to the people in the restaurant). Anyway I was working the bar with my best work friend (a delightful 19 y/o gay guy who I’ll call D who has no filter to what comes out of his mouth when talking with me and never fails to compliment me on whatever he notices first, this time it was my braided hair).
So at one point one of the waitresses, J, came up to the bar (the registers are also at the bar, and it’s also where we have to put orders in) and she went on to chat with us for a bit while D made the order she just put through. We were just making small talk, and when D was done I went on the bring the drinks to these three guys, maybe in their early twenties. I was immediately uncomfortable around them, they had that predatory aura around them that some guys have. Anyway they were drinking some pretty heavy stuff, and J had forgotten something so I went back to get it and then one of them said “thanks, sweetheart” and winked. I did not appreciate that, but whatever.
Throughout the night they kept drinking, and both J and I grew more and more uncomfortable around them as they started more and more to make comments on our appearances and stuff. At one point the one that kept calling me “sweetheart” actually tried to feel my biceps after commenting that I must be getting strong arms from carrying all these heavy drinks and stuff. I froze and said something along the lines of “yeah, strong enough to do my work fast” and basically run back to the bar.
It was busy (not unusual for a Saturday, lmao) so I just threw myself back into my work and didn’t think about those guys anymore. Until the next order for their table came through, and J stopped D and me before we went on to make it. Apparently, she had heard them “joking” about how the next time I’d come by they were sure they could feel up my butt. J had given no indication that she had heard them, and when they asked her if she could make sure that “that cute girl” would bring their drinks again she hadn’t replied and just went on her way to us.
Did I mention that I kinda love my coworkers? Anyway in the weekends the owners will come by and sometimes help out when it’s really busy. So one of them was sitting at the bar and overheard J telling this to us and he looked at D and said “D, you wanna go over there and flirt as if (my name)’s life depends on it?” And D just said “fuck yeah” and went on his way. So J had to go on, and I had other orders to make, and the owner was sitting at the bar and watching D and the guys like a hawk and I don’t know what D said, but five minutes later he came back and not too much later I watched the guys leave while the owner told them “not so much fun when it happens to you, is it?”
And that is when I realized I absolutely love my place of work.
Also, please please please don’t prey on helpless servers!!!
Try to rip people off with shady flipped houses? Watch me flip your bank account.
So I don’t think this is entirely pro, but this just happened and I’m quite pleased with myself. Sorry for how long it is, I’m a wordy person.
Background: my girlfriend and I have been trying to buy a house for a month or two. Housing market where we live is tough, we don’t have a huge income, most houses sell within 24 hours, etc so it’s been a struggle. About a month and a half ago we found a house that was PERFECT. In the neighborhood we wanted, 2 bed 2 bath, at the very top of our price range but still doable, etc etc. Best part is that it’s beautifully renovated, new roof, everything is new and gorgeous! We put in an offer, but get outbid by someone else (which is crushing, if you have yet to experience that).
We mourn and then continue searching for other houses….until we get a call from our agent saying that the other buyers backed out and the seller is offering it to us first before putting it back on the market.
A quick important note here: the seller is the owner, but is also acting as his own real estate agent, and he runs his own business buying foreclosures and flipping them. This is important later.
~Legend says a Goddess watches over each clan. The Healing Goddess, Sakura, in charge of the Hatake clan was once disguised as the koi the Hatake clan has taken care of way back when Konoha was founded. Being the last of the Hatake, Sakura must take care of Kakashi in order to make sure his line continues [wink wonk]. But he has to prove himself worthy of her presence; else she becomes another clan’s Goddess.~
I also don’t know why a Goddess would hold a scalpel but I love the idea of her threatening people (Kakashi) with it when she’s pissed
Look, haven’t you noticed - the Doctor is completely off his trolley. Seriously, the man is barking mad. He basically runs away for a living, but still chose to wear that scarf. One morning, he decided it would enhance his air of personal enigma to stick a question mark handle on his umbrella. He wore converse trainers with a suit, he made a screwdriver sonic, he thinks fezzes and bow ties are cool, he hid himself away in a Medieval castle with a tank and an electric guitar, he thinks he’s in a television show and sometimes talks to the camera… oh you finish the list. Do you think, for one second, that man would look at the light on top of his disguised time machine and not think, ‘Ooh, it would be cool if it flashed.’ He’s insane, I’m telling you. You should try writing for that lunatic, it’s exhausting.
Steven Moffat, on why the TARDIS’ lamp flashes as it materializes if it’s trying to be camouflaged