I
Ms. Pillsbury-Schuester carefully places the pamphlet in front of her: So You Made An Ass Blog About Your Friends.
Tina throws her back against the chair. She crosses her arms over her chest and glares around, then stops at Mr. Schue. "Why does everyone think I put that up?"
He swivels the laptop around so she can see. It's on titansappreciatethatass.com and, to give Tina credit, there's a bewildering variety of asses there, of all shapes and sizes. All of them have at least a few likes and reblogs, but there's a definite skewing of posts towards two sets of asses in particular. Sometimes the commentary is long and detailed and goes into aspects of dimpling, girth, and plumpness. Sometimes it's just ratings. Sometimes the comment is an eloquent "DAMN."
"How much time do you have?" Sam rolls his eyes.
Tina furiously waves her hand back in his direction. "This is coming from a guy who walked down the hallways half naked on purpose in January to make everyone look at him?"
Blaine looks embarrassed for her. "Mr. Schue. Ms. Pillsbury-Schuester. We just need to talk to Tina in private. This doesn't need to go on her permanent record. I'm sure we can save everyone the trouble of a full inquiry and of course the blog will be coming down."
Tina turns on the waterworks in the blink of an eye. "Blaine! I didn't put that blog up! I swear! I learned my lesson from before, okay? I did!"
Blaine pats her awkwardly on the shoulder. "It's okay, Tina. I know you didn't mean any harm. I think." While he searches around in his pockets, Sam's nostrils flare, but there's a little pleased quirk in his lips anyway.
Tina sounds indignant and confused. "I swear I didn't do this, Blaine! Some of these posts were clearly made when we were all in Student Council meetings!" She stabs a finger towards a timestamp.
"It does seem a little too neat," Blaine admits. A thoughtful look crosses his face. Sam narrows his eyes and whispers, "Blam!"
Outside the glass that encases the office, a small blonde girl smirks as she gives the scene inside a glance that's a little too pleased. She pushes the glasses up on her nose as she prances away, her Cheerios skirt bobbing up and down.
II
Nightbird runs about the outer perimeter, pulling the curtains closed to shroud McKinley's computer lab in semi-darkness. Once completed, he, too, wraps himself in his cape and settles on a plastic chair. He broods.
"I'll re-route the encryptions." Dr. Y, that young, introspective genius, is furiously typing away. He doesn't stop talking: "Thank your dad for us, Sugar. Now we can hack into the network to find out who's in charge of ."
Blonde Chameleon, standing behind Dr. Y, mutters: "I still think Tina did it."
Asian Persuasion snaps back, "I didn't. If I did, I wouldn't have talked Sugar into buying it for us in the first place. Don't you think I'd just block you at every turn if I was?"
"I'm just happy to be part of the team." Sweet and Spicy preens her feathers.
"Guys! Look!"
Dr. Y reels back, a look of horror on his face. "I've found the source."
The glare of the computer screen reveals rows upon rows of them. "My God," Blonde Chameleon as Charlton Heston breathes in, "it's full of ass."
"Where are those pics of Blaine and Sam being hosted?" Asian Persuasion's red tassels tickle the top of Dr. Y's head.
"It doesn't say, but look – they're tied to a Friends of Josh Groban Tumblr account."
Blonde Chameleon slaps his fist into his palm. "We'll track this villain down."
The glare bounces off of Queen B's glasses. "I'll sting her like a bitch. Bzzzzz!" She's the first one to run out of the door; the rest of the Secret Society of Superheroes Club flies out behind her.
Nightbird raises his eyebrows. Something about that comment strikes him as… odd.
III
Nightbird yanks at the edge of Blonde Chameleon's jacket. Dr. Y and Sweet and Spicy are stalking an older, balding man and backing him up against the underside of the bleachers. He's wearing khakis, an expensive-looking pink dress shirt, and a frightened look. Tarantula Head, still looking a bit lost, whips around his dreads for effect. The man shrinks back. Queen B, at the head of the group, is shaking a flashlight at him.
"Wait, how'd we get here?" Blonde Chameleon scratches his head. "Who's that?"
"It's Mr. Ryerson," Asian Persuasion hisses. "He was in charge of Glee, before Mr. Schue took it over. He got fired and now he sells pot. He's, like, the biggest Josh Groban fan ever."
"Something's been bothering me," Nightbird says. A contemplative look crosses his features.
"Okay, fine, I guess it wasn't Tina then. Sorry, Tina."
"Shut up, Sam!" Asian Persuasion's persuading skills are unraveling a bit.
"You do kinda have a history with the obj, obfu, obfuscation of guys and it's gotta stop!"
"It's objectification! That Tumblr has 6344 followers and they're all doing it too! You did it to yourself!"
"Objectify this!" Sam steps closer and glares at Tina, straight in the eyes. Tina just turns her back on him.
Nightbird shushes them. "Guys! Stop! Focus! Don't you think it's weird that Queen B said her?"
"When she'd say that?"
"Before we went outside, just now."
"Hey, that guy is usually here after school, not in the middle of the day," Blonde Chameleon offers.
Nightbird lowers his voice again, even though there's practically zero chance of them being overheard. "He's here to take the fall. I think we have a traitor amongst us."
A panicked look crosses Asian Persuasion's face. "Oh no, no, no, Nightbird, think about what you're saying. Becky's so sweet. She doesn't do things like this!"
"You would say that," Blonde Chameleon scoffs. "Fact: you and Becky are good friends."
Asian Persuasion tosses him another spiteful glare. But Nightbird has already taken off, cape flying wildly. By the time Asian Persuasion and Blonde Chameleon have caught up to him, he's deftly inserted himself in between Tarantula Head and Mr. Ryerson, who's sweating bullets. Tarantula Head's dreads narrowly miss smacking everyone in the faces.
"I didn't post those things," Sandy babbles. "It's not my blog."
"I know," Nightbird intones darkly. "Friends: I know the truth, and by that token it should be known that this man is not in charge of that dark instrument, .com. Mr. Ryerson is a pawn in someone else's schemes. He is a vile, reprehensible human being, but this man is innocent."
"Hey! I don't even know most of you!"
"Go now," Nightbird says sternly. "Queen B. We have a score to settle."
Sandy Ryerson doesn't spare any more glances and scrambles out of the circle. Queen B just looks cross and defiant. Her fake antennas wave about.
"I'm not sorry that I run your stupid ass blog, Gay Blaine."
"I know you're not, Becky," Nightbird says calmly, "but that wasn't right. You didn't have our permission to post our – our asses online."
"I should get to appreciate ass like everyone else!"
"I know I do," Dr. Y whispers.
"Huh?"
"Nothing," Dr. Y says casually. "Pray, continue."
"Look," Blonde Chameleon breaks in, "why don't you make another blog, Queen B? Where you post pictures of us that we know about. We can promote Glee that way!"
"For once, you have a good idea, Blonde Chameleon," Asian Persuasion smiles again, and this time, it's only a little barbed.
Queen B sniffles. "I just love you so much, Gay Blaine, Gay Sam. I wanted to do something nice for you."
"I'm not gay," Sam says, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "Why am I getting this question again?"
"I think a Glee blog is a good idea, Becky," Tina tells her. "And that blog looks – looked – so good, like a professional."
"For the record, I liked the pictures you put up of me," Sam says helpfully. He twists and turns around to peer at his own ass.
Nightbird wraps Queen B in his cloak. "What do you say, Queen B? Want to be our historian?"
"I want to do it, Nightbird. I'll change the blog."
Blaine leans down, Becky looks up, and she gives him a tender peck on the cheek.
"Is it okay if I appreciate ass a little bit?" Becky asks softly. She carefully avoids Blaine's posterior and holds him tight. Blaine smiles at her.
"We all can, Becky," Tina says archly. "We all can."